Subscribing to the theory that Las Vegas is Los Angeles in miniature—they have bad air, we have bad air; they have a hyperactive real-estate market, us, too; they have struggling schools, gangs and politicians with pliable ethics; triple ditto—it's not out of the question to ponder when Las Vegans, as Los Angelenos recently did with the election of Antonio Villaraigosa as mayor, will elect a Hispanic to lead the city.
Judging by the numbers, the answer would seem to be soon.
In 2000, Nevada joined California among the states with the highest Hispanic populations—46 percent in LA, 24 to 32 percent (the latter figure factoring in illegal immigrants) of Clark County. In a 2004 poll by www.hispaniconline.com, LA and Vegas ranked as the eighth and 10th best cities, respectively, for Hispanics. Thousands of Hispanics were registered to vote in the 2004 election cycle; estimates are there are nearly 130,000 in Nevada (most of them in Las Vegas) who are eligible to vote but haven't registered.
If this political sleeping giant ever woke up ...
But longtime activist Fernando Romero says forget the numbers—at least for now.
The state's first and only Hispanic mayor—the late Cruz Olague; victor in Henderson's 1973 race—barely garnered 2 percent in the 1999 Las Vegas mayoral race, won by some guy named Goodman. Though political upstart Andres Ramirez did respectably against two-term-incumbent North Las Vegas Mayor Michael Montandon earlier this year—garnering 41 percent of the vote despite being topped in fundraising seven to one—he was never really a threat. And with former state assemblyman, county commissioner and failed congressional candidate Dario Herrera focused on staying out of prison—ensnared in the G-Sting political corruption scandal—the pipeline seems a bit empty.
So while he'd like to see a Hispanic mayor of Las Vegas, Romero would settle for a Latino on any of the Valley city councils. He lost his bid to be the first, trumped in the 2003 Ward 3 city council race by incumbent Gary Reese.
"I feel to a great degree that some of the folks who are qualified to run don't stand much of a chance because the camaraderie (members of the) city councils show hurts (challengers). I definitely felt Goodman's support for Reese," says Romero, who contends that the Latin Chamber of Commerce backed Reese because the council was ruling on a Latin grocer's application to slaughter chickens on the premises. The chamber's executive director, Otto Merida, failed to return calls and an e-mail for comment.
"To have a Hispanic mayor," Romero says, "it will take tremendous participation on the part of the Hispanic community."
Romero sees in Ramirez the prototype Hispanic candidate who might eventually be able to stir the masses—politically savvy, charismatic and on a first-name basis with power brokers. "Hopefully, he will consider running for councilman of North Las Vegas."
Ramirez isn't interested in running just to run. It siphons political cachet, he says. He challenged Montandon because he was disgruntled with his leadership and says he will throw his name into the ballot box in the future if he feels current officeholders aren't measuring up. Part of the key to putting Hispanic candidates in City Hall, Ramirez says, is using lessons from LA (133 years between Hispanic mayors) and San Antonio (few Hispanic leaders despite a 60-percent Latino population) to create a "best-practices" approach to political mobilization. Patience is also key: Political juggernauts aren't built overnight.
"Surrounding communities have to feel comfortable with a growing Hispanic population and we have to balance those (negative) perceptions with positive ones," says Ramirez, opining that Las Vegas' vibrancy could actually work against Hispanics. "We have had low voter turnout in elections—in North Las Vegas, 13 percent, Las Vegas had 9 percent—because things in the Valley are going well. Most people have jobs and people are making more than other folks elsewhere, so there's less to complain about."
Adds James Campos, state director of the Young Hispanic Republican Association:
"We have more of an immature Hispanic community—younger and not as established or organized as the ones in LA or Phoenix or the state of New Mexico or Florida." Campos expects the 2008 presidential cycle could be a watershed moment for Hispanic voter turnout, Republican and Democratic parties deploying massive resources to court this voting bloc. "The Bush campaign showed how you can mobilize the Hispanic vote," Campos says. And the more Hispanics assuming top positions statewide—Carlos Garcia led the Clark County School District for five years, Manny Cortez was the longtime executive director the Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Authority, state Attorney General Brian Sandoval is up for a federal judgeship—the better. "It shows that we're not only a viable voting and business bloc, but also a leadership bloc."
Both Romero and Ramirez say the African-American community has significant sway over the success of Hispanic candidates. Submarined largely by a black-brown rift in his first crack at mayor in 2001, Villaraigosa forged coalitions with LA's black community over the next fours years, erasing the goodwill incumbent Mayor James Hahn inherited from his father, former County Supervisor Kenneth Hahn. Hahn the younger also angered the black community by ousting LAPD Chief Bernard Parks. So when Mexican President Vincente Fox made disparaging comments about blacks, Villaraigosa was largely insulated. One of the big successes of Ramirez's candidacy was crossover support, which he attributes to years of coalition-building with black groups in Las Vegas.
"If we united," adds Romero, "we'd be a force to be reckoned with."
A Hispanic council member or mayor would be nice and all, but Romero would like to fry bigger political fish.
"We wish he'd done more, but on many occasions he did give us an ear," Romero says of Herrera's stint on the County Commission. "It would certainly be advantageous for our community if we could once again hold a seat on the most powerful political stage in the state of Nevada."