For Puerto Ricans in the white marble halls of Albany, our time had finally come.
There I sat in New York State Assembly Speaker Mel Miller’s office at 270 Broadway on a chilly afternoon on March 1987. I was among a group of Puerto Rican legislators discussing the Somos Uno (We Are One) conference. This was to be a statewide gathering of Puerto Ricans and Latinos that would finally put our community on the map. For years, the Latino community had been referred to by the mainstream media as “a sleeping giant” only to be largely ignored and cast aside. This group of pioneering Assembly members, Angelo Del Toro (who died in December 1994), Héctor Díaz, José E. Serrano, along with me, representing Bronx Assemblyman José Rivera, were discussing with Speaker Miller and his communications director, Eric Schneiderman, details of the formulation and organization of what would emerge as the premier annual expression of Latino influence in New York State: the Somos el Futuro conference.
Speaker Mel Miller was clearly receptive to the idea. For years, he had heard Puerto Rican legislators privately complain about the underrepresentation of Latinos among elected officials, in state government jobs and within the circles of power. “If we work together, this is one way we can help the Puerto Rican community,” Miller remarked. Within a year, one of the largest Latino legislative caucuses in the country was born.
As time has passed, the origins and motivations for the conference have been recast from those of the well-intentioned Assembly members who came together on that day to, at times, deceit, manipulation and political intrigue. One interpretation is that SOMOS was a deliberate strategy by Albany power brokers to weaken the Black and Puerto Rican Legislative Caucus (BPRLC), now called the Black, Puerto Rican, Hispanic and Asian Legislative Caucus, by splintering the Puerto Ricans from this organization that was rapidly becoming more “militant” in its approach to challenging then-Gov. Mario Cuomo and the Albany power elite. Truth be told, BPRLC was never the “militant” group that revisionists have invented. It was, in fact, in many respects just as conformist in its approach as what later became the Somos el Futuro group.
The expansion of Somos el Futuro beyond its genesis in New York State to Puerto Rico has largely been attributed to political friction that emerged in 1988 as a result of Puerto Rico Gov. Rafael Hernández Colón’s decision to endorse Michael Dukakis in the Democratic primary for President, whereas New York City’s Puerto Rican legislators supported Rev. Jesse Jackson. Gov. Colón sought to repair this fissure with the stateside Puerto Rican community, making nice by offering to sponsor the conference on the island and cover its initial expenses.
Regardless of whether you believe this account, the Somos el Futuro Task Force was undoubtedly the brainchild of East Harlem Assemblyman Angelo Del Toro, who was then chair of the New York State Assembly’s Social Services committee, in conjunction with Bronx Assemblyman Héctor Díaz, who provided Del Toro with assistance and support in this endeavor. Del Toro had previously held the chairmanship of the BPRLC because he enjoyed the support of two influential African-American legislators: Deputy Speaker Arthur Eve (D-Buffalo), whose father was Dominican, and Assemblyman Al Vann (D-Brooklyn), who was the former chair of the group but saw backing del Toro as his opportunity to do “our Latin thing.”
East Harlem State Senator Olga Méndez, (who died on July 29, 2009), the first Puerto Rican woman elected to the New York Senate and to a state Legislature anywhere in the United States, had already abandoned the BPRLC because she perceived that Puerto Ricans were being treated as junior partners in these multiracial legislative caucuses.
Del Toro came up with an innovative idea, which he later explained to me. The BPRLC was composed largely of black and Puerto Rican legislators with limited white participation. The state’s gerrymandered districts tended to segregate districts in the state between either black/Latino or white majorities, and even if you were a white legislator with a large African-American constituency rarely were you an integral part of the Caucus. But what if, Del Toro envisioned, the Puerto Rican/Hispanic Legislative Task Force—since Latinos are an ethnicity and not a race—would allow white legislators to become exoticized "Latinos"—people of color—a distinction they could not receive from the black caucus?
Under Del Toro’s original formulation, if 15 percent or more of the constituents of an Assembly or Senate district were Latino, the Assembly member or Senator who represented it was automatically eligible to be a member of the Task Force. Among those who were accepted as an “honorary Latino” according to this criterion was Italian Assemblyman Vito Lopez of Brooklyn.
This conception of a more expansive Puerto Rican/Latino Legislative Task Force worked like a charm and the first SOMOS conference was a resounding success. It drew thousands of people from across the state, along with Puerto Rican politicos enjoying the support of white and black legislators looking to embrace this growing demographic.
But 27 years after its inception, what has happened to this would-be “political juggernaut” that offered so much promise for Latino political empowerment in the State of New York? Intra-group divisions, corporatization and self-interest have at times replaced what began as a purposeful, poignant political agenda and a mass mobilization of Latinos to demand proportionate power in Albany and their rightful piece of the pie from the elite chambers of government.
Following its triumphant start, SOMOS emerged as a template for empowering Latino legislators not just in New York State, but across the country; however, soon thereafter, in 1989, intra-Latino warfare erupted. Robert Calderin, the first executive director of the SOMOS conference and a member of Assemblyman Díaz’s staff, along with a group of private businessmen of questionable reputations, attempted a coup to wrest control of the conference from Del Toro in order to privatize it and generate a profit from its operation.
The ensuing battle nearly destroyed the budding conference. Del Toro held his ground and appealed for intervention by Speaker Miller, who, based on death threats made against Del Toro, offered the assemblyman state police protection and exerted his considerable influence to recognize the Del Toro faction as the only legitimate representative of the SOMOS conference.
But the damage was already done. For the rest of the decade, the SOMOS conference was never the same. Interest in the conference diminished and it evolved into one of the many conferences where baile, botella, y barraja (dancing, drinking and gambling) are the unofficial agenda. Attendance dwindled and, as time has passed, the SOMOS conference has become a post-Election Day political junket.
Our nuevo political leaders now seem more comfortable hobnobbing with Gov. Andrew Cuomo than insisting he pass the financial assistance component of the Dream Act or immigration reform, or challenging police brutality or mass incarceration in communities of color. They endorse meaningless or trifling actions and activities within the Latino community, giving them the Somos el Futuro brand in a form of marketing, while delivering few real resources or results to the people they represent. More troubling is how these Latino politicians hypocritically propose legislation knowing full well they lack the necessary support to turn these proposals into law.
Perhaps the most recent expression of this accommodationist posture is the embrace by Latino legislators of Gov. Cuomo on his recent campaign trip to Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic. Kneeling before the political throne of King Cuomo they bowed their heads in surrender with not even a pretense of opposition to some of the anti-Latino policies preserved and advanced by the increasingly conservative governor. These emissaries of Somos el Futuro were so castrated politically that they even permitted Puerto Rico’s Governor, Alejandro García-Padilla, to take the liberty of endorsing Cuomo on behalf of all Puerto Ricans in New York State. Talk about the blind leading the blind. The SOMOS legislators in essence have faded into irrelevancy.
Straight after his general election victory last year, Mayor de Blasio attended the conference in Puerto Rico pledging his support to the Latino community, all the while ignoring the Campaign for Fair Latino Representation’s protestations that the mayor had inadequate Latino representation within his own administration in City Hall.
Many of our Latino legislators, while more prepared academically than their previous counterparts, lack the community connection of their forerunners and are removed from the day-to-day realities of our barrios. Some are second-generation legislators, anointed by political machines that were never linked to the community’s struggles in the first place. The constant complaint heard in our community is that “no tienen corazón” (“They lack heart”). So disenchanted have community folks become with Somos el Futuro that when asked whether will they attend this year's conference some jokingly remark, “No, thank you. I don't drink.” Others say Somos el Futuro (We Are the Future) has evolved into “Somos Ninguno” (We Are Nobody).
This accommodating class of electeds is made up of so many compradors that even a homophobic, pro-life senator like Rubén Díaz Sr. demonstrated more heart than the rest of his Democratic colleagues. In protest, the controversial Bronx pol chose to break with banana republic politics and endorsed Cuomo’s Republican opponent, Rob Astorino. He thereby openly rejected the subservient politics of his son, Bronx Borough President Rubén Díaz Jr., who, as co-chair of the Cuomo reelection 2014 team, opted to stay the course of blind allegiance to the Democratic party.
In this cavern of darkness a glimmer of hope still exist in the SOMOS youth student programs that prepare young people for leadership positions and train them in the process of good government. But these efforts pale in the broader context of legislators sun-bathing in Puerto Rico, dancing Salsa, and chanting “Somos Leal” (“We are loyal”) in blind allegiance to the Democratic permanent government that controls our state's capital.
One need only hark back to the 2012 conference when the Civil Service Employees Association and major unions were taken aback by the cowardly posture of the Latino legislators and pulled out of the conference, accusing many legislators of “betrayal” for not supporting their legitimate demands for pension reform. Who came to the rescue and offered to cover the $72,000 conference funding shortfall? Gov. Cuomo and former Mayor Bloomberg—demonstrating once again who are the "white ventriloquists" pulling the strings of these SOMOS legislators.
So what happened to the original cast of political leaders I spoke about at the outset of this piece who orchestrated the creation of this Puerto Rican/Latino institution?
Mel Miller was removed from office on a federal fraud conviction, which was overturned on appeal. Eric Schneiderman went on to become a state senator and is currently New York State’s attorney general. José E. Serrano was elected in 1990 to represent what is now the 15th congressional district in the South Bronx, the poorest district in the United States. Twenty-four years later he is still in office. Héctor Díaz went on to become the Bronx County Clerk, retired, and today is the president of Acacia, a network of Latino-focused health providers with more than $160 million in annual revenues. José Rivera, who I represented at that historic meeting, is in his second stretch as an assemblyman. At one point he was chair of the state Legislature’s Black and Puerto Rican Caucus, the president of the Black and Latino Caucus of the New York City Council, and chairman of the Bronx Democratic Party, a position he held for six years.
When I reflect on that meeting we held in Speaker Miller's office on that memorable day 27 years ago and the sense of hope that it represented, I cannot help but express my profound disappointment in what SOMOS has become. The potential power that was in the palm of our hands has faded into oblivion and by every yardstick the Latino community is in a serious political and financial crisis.
Can Somos el Futuro be salvaged and return to its noble beginnings? Does the upcoming conference in Puerto Rico next month offer hope?
Change would require the legislators who spearhead SOMOS, like Brooklyn Assemblyman Félix Ortiz, to reengage the conference in the politics of protest and to adopt an oppositional resistance strategy that challenges the citadels of power, rather than embracing them.
Our legislators must become more than they are at current and zealously take up the defense of the grassroots Latinos stuck at the bottom of New York State’s economic well. To paraphrase Mahatma Gandhi, our Latino leadership, if they are devoted to the empowerment of our barrios, must let “the power of love overrule the love of power.”
Can this be done?
Sí, se puede.
Howard Jordan is an educator, attorney, journalist and political activist. He is a tenured professor in the Public Policy and Law Unit of the Behavioral & Social Sciences Department at Hostos Community College in the South Bronx. In the late 1980s and ’90s he served as legislative assistant to former Gov. Mario Cuomo's Advisory Committee on Hispanic Affairs and later as executive director of the New York State Assembly Task Force on Immigration, a 25-Assembly member commission addressing regional immigration issues. He is also the host of The Jordan Journal, a radio show that airs Fridays from 3-5 p.m. on WBAI 99.5 FM.