Sunlight gleaming off the American flag pin on his left lapel, Andres Ramirez looks every bit the politician, exuding an official air even while posing by the campy "You are here" sign in front of the North Las Vegas Library. Smiling throughout, he seems happy, content with being noticed, recognized, paid attention to. Photo shoot complete, Ramirez walks over, introduces himself, his gaze unblinking, handshake firm yet welcoming. His amiable nature doesn't feel practiced.
Up close, Ramirez is dapper—clean-shaven, impeccably coifed, with razor-sharp creases in his black slacks. Looking younger than his 26 years, he could pass for the son of an power broker or president of the College Democrats. Seated in the back of the small library on East Civic Center Drive, he elaborates on his expansive political career: involvement in 30 political campaigns, assisting city council members (Shari Buck and Larry Weekly) a mayor (Jan Jones), a senator (Harry Reid), a governor (Bob Miller), a president (Bill Clinton) and presidential wannabes (Al Gore); lobbying on Capitol Hill; advising the state Legislature; running his own strategic-planning firm (Ramirez and Associates).
An up-and-comer, then.
Comparisons to tarnished golden boy Dario Herrera are common; both are Hispanic and both jumped into politics early. Herrera became a state legislator at 23 and county commissioner at 27 and is taller and leaner, built like a power forward, while Ramirez sports a fullback's physique. With Herrera's career stained by a corruption scandal, Ramirez is now billed as what his friend was—a "next-generation" leader in the Democratic party.
"I helped Dario meet a lot of people in D.C. I still talk to him," says Ramirez, who's about to embark on the biggest political move of his life: running for mayor of North Las Vegas.
The kid born to migrant parents who moved around every seven years, and whose neighbors in Oxnard, California, were drug dealers and gang members, is the only thing standing in the way of a third term for incumbent Michael Montandon. He claims support from the same groups that backed Herrera—unions, progressive groups and Latino activists. But organizing a campaign and competing in one are different undertakings: Just because Karl Rove can get presidents elected doesn't mean he could win the White House for himself.
Ramirez lost by a landslide in his only other political foray, a 2002 campaign for university regent. That race was about highlighting the impact tougher admissions would have on minorities, he says; this one's about winning.
"It's funny, because the house we live in—which is right inside the North Las Vegas boundary—my wife chose it because of the closet. So because of the closet, I can run for mayor," Ramirez jokes. "Seriously, I think the city of North Las Vegas is at a critical juncture that will determine its future. Are we going to be a great community, a complement to Las Vegas, or are we destined to be a bedroom community? I don't think the mayor represents all facets of the city."
But isn't that what most politicians say, that their opponents don't speak for regular people—the 9-to-5'ers, those living check to check, the disaffected?
Ramirez says firsthand experience growing up in a struggling family and in violence-wracked neighborhoods gives him a perspective Montandon doesn't have.
One immediate improvement he wants to make as mayor: Better relations among blacks and Hispanics, who combine for more than 50 percent of the population. Without open dialogue, the two communities will remain adversarial, blacks worried about Hispanic encroachment on their political clout.
"When the Arturo Cambiero Center was about to close, who stepped in to save it? Larry Weekly, an African-American politician, even though it's in [Councilman] Gary Reese's ward," Ramirez says. "One of the first things that [state assemblyman] Kelvin Atkinson, whose campaign I worked on, did was create legislation that made dealerships provide car contracts in Spanish. We can work together."
But is North Las Vegas ready for a Hispanic mayor? It wasn't ready for a black mayor, although Theron Goynes' put up a competitive fight against Montandon in 1997. "No one ever asks if white politicians can represent entire communities," Ramirez says.
Since the Hispanic vote alone won't carry him into City Hall, Ramirez plans to focus on what he sees as openings—the 55,000 new voters registered since 2001, discontent in stagnating older neighborhoods—"no major parks and few recreational amenities in mature areas while newer areas get the amenities"—and the need for voter education.
Conceding that Montandon will out-raise him ("he'll probably get half a million; all I need is $250,000 to do everything I need to do ... all the developers are going to support an incumbent mayor"), Ramirez plans to count on political experience and the connections he's been amassing since high school. In those years he did serious work for the both Clinton-Gore campaigns, spent two years in Gov. Miller's Washington, D.C., office and represented the city of Las Vegas and Harrah's Entertainment as a lobbyist. In 2001, he advised the state's Legislative redistricting effort and recently ended a two-year stint as state director for Voices for Working Families, registering more than 5,000 voters. Somewhere in there, Ramirez studied at Georgetown University (he's several credits away from a degree in international relations), had a daughter and started his own company. He's on the city's police advisory board and its Vision 2025 Committee, tasked with creating a 20-year strategic plan for North Las Vegas.
A career packed into 14 years.
"I've developed great relationships," he says, "and I don't have to hire a savvy political consultant, because that's me."
His cell phone rings.
"It's Shelley Berkley, not Barkley," he says. He hangs up. "It was a political consultant from D.C. See, I've got connections."
With the GOP's power grab on Capitol Hill, Ramirez says groups like the New Democrat Network, the Southwest Voter Registration Project and the Democratic National Committee are salivating over the possibility of a Hispanic politician to oust a Republican mayor.
Walking out of the library, folks steal glances as the well-dressed man. Their eyes ask questions: Is he famous? Is he notable?
Come April, Andres Ramirez could be the mayor of North Las Vegas, which might make him notable if not exactly famous. But what if he loses? Is it back to behind-the-scenes-work, where he made his bones?
"I don't expect to lose," he says, "But if I do, timing is everything in politics. I will keep my eyes open."