Latino Politics Have Outgrown Alatorre’s Methods

In the maze of Los Angeles City Councilman Richard Alatorre’s political and personal life, an invisible line separates people who think they are insiders from those who are really in.

Alatorre will ask for a difficult favor--putting a friend on the payroll, taking care of a buddy--something that seems to strain ethical boundaries, or violate plain good sense.

It’s a test. Alatorre may shrug it off if you turn him down. You may remain friends. But you’re out of the club’s inner circle. You failed the test.

By her account to Times reporters Robert J. Lopez and Rich Connell, Linda Ward, Alatorre’s secretary, was enough of an insider, she said, for him to repeatedly hand her between $2,000 and $3,000--”pretty much always $100 bills folded in half”--to deposit in his personal checking account.

It’s this life, on the hidden side of the Alatorre line, that has thrust the councilman into the unforgiving glare of journalistic and law enforcement investigation.

No matter how the probes turn out, life will never be the same for a man famous for taking care of his friends while, at the same time, contributing much to the recent political rise of the Latino community.

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When Alatorre was elected to the Legislature in the early ‘70s, the term “sleeping giant”--used to describe Latino political apathy--had become a cliche.

There were many reasons for this, not the least being light voting among Latinos. But another reason was pure politics. Democrats, who, on the surface, embraced all minorities, actually betrayed Latinos. The party gerrymandered heavily Democratic Latino neighborhoods, dividing them up between Anglo Democrats with political clout.

Well-meaning Latino leaders protested publicly. But Alatorre considered their press conferences and fiery speeches pointless whining.

To him, politics--like life itself--was governed by relationships. He’d learned that early, when he was a kid growing up among the gangs of East L.A. His mother made him come home from school, do homework and mow the lawn. He was student body president of Garfield High School. But he also built relationships with gang members, and those ties both protected Alatorre and helped him become a leader.

Relationships were important in Sacramento too. The Assembly was a boys club dominated by Willie Brown and his macho pals, always flying off to the big game or a weekend in the Caribbean. Alatorre--profane, witty and one of the boys--was welcomed into Willie’s inner circle and learned all of Brown’s political tricks.

When it came time to draw new legislative and congressional districts, Alatorre used his friendships to make sure there were some where Latinos could win.

His attitude was: Get it done in the back rooms, among friends, among those you can trust. Let the do-gooders make the speeches.

That was the way Alatorre saw life when he returned to Los Angeles and was elected to the City Council. He disdained public politics. He became even more profane, speaking in a style that sounded like it came straight out of the Garfield High campus.

He immediately saw the great source of power in local politics, the Metropolitan Transportation Authority, fat with federal, state and local funds to build rail lines. He got on the MTA board and soon all but ran it. Contracts for construction, and the mysterious job of consulting, were handed out to friends and political allies. The word in the rail construction business was that you had to be Alatorre’s friend.

This power included the ability to steer campaign contributions to supporters. Thus, Alatorre built a network of allies on small city councils throughout the county.

In a state that likes to brag about having no political machines, Alatorre had created one of the best.

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Now this powerful figure seems to be headed for trouble, prompting comment that the Latino political drive has been hurt. Adding fuel to such sentiment is the recent arrest of Los Angeles City Councilman Mike Hernandez for possession of cocaine.

But if you think these events have stalled the rise of Latino power, you are dead wrong.

For while Alatorre helped begin the current Latino political push, his creation has outgrown him.

Alatorre’s old-boy politics flourished in the parochial confines of Latino East L.A., fed by contracts from an MTA that was once rich, but is now on the verge of bankruptcy.

The new Latino political equation is much different.

In the first place, the Latino vote is increasing, more and more reflecting its population size and the extraordinary rise in citizenship among Latin American immigrants.

That helps Latino candidates, but not enough to win in districts where Latinos remain a minority. Knowing this, Latino candidates are running campaigns that appeal to Anglo, African American and Asian American voters.

The successful effort to create more legislative seats accessible to Latinos, ironically, was directed by a onetime Alatorre protege, state Sen. Richard Polanco, who, in his years in Sacramento, gained a vision that extended beyond East Los Angeles to encompass California as a whole.

Polanco’s efforts attained a statewide goal of much greater importance, historically, than any MTA construction contract--election of a Latino, Cruz Bustamante, as Assembly speaker.

To understand how Latino politics have changed, stop thinking of it in purely Los Angeles terms. Who cares about a Los Angeles City Council member when a Latino is speaker of the Assembly?

Time has passed Alatorre by.

His community has outgrown him.