The stealth campaign

Carlos Ramos on the campaign trail

Carlos Ramos on the campaign trail

Charlie Ramos is deep in enemy territory. Emblazoned proudly in the lobby of the Casa Boricua Senior Centre is the name of his opponent for the 32nd New York District Senate seat, Rev. Ruben Diaz, an eight-term incumbent with deep roots in Bronx politics.

Not that Ramos makes it as far as the lobby. His campaign team is politely told to come back the next day. They loiter outside for a few minutes, handing pamphlets to random people.

“I’ve been exposed to the latest technology of running campaigns, I’ve been on the other side of the aisle — basically getting people elected,” Ramos said, chewing on a Subway sandwich.

Raised in Soundview, the Nuyorican — a term he uses to describe New Yorkers of Puerto Rican heritage — launched his career in politics after spending much of his 20s in and out of prison for selling and possessing drugs, according to official records.

“I grew up in a single parent home,” the 40-year-old explained. Usually quick with a quip, he clammed up talking about his past. “It’s like you’re seeking attention, you’re missing a parent. And so you go into the streets. So, yes, I got in trouble with the law. I did what most kids in my neighborhood were doing back then, which was making money. My mother was on public assistance, and she struggled.”

Ramos and his running mates refer to themselves as insurgents: three Democratic candidates taking on the status quo in the southwest Bronx. Carmen Hernandez, a woman of the cloth who walks with a steel frame, is running for local district leader position. Israel Cruz, a community activist, is shooting for the 85th Assembly district. And Carlos “Charlie” Ramos, is a campaign worker turned state senate candidate. The three share a cramped office on Westchester Avenue, plastered with campaign posters. An old sign advertising income tax services is clearly visible over their election headquarters lettering.

As a student at City University, he worked for his opponent’s son, Ruben Diaz Jr, while the younger Diaz was a State Assemblyman. He later held jobs in voter mobilization and community organizing, most recently as the Bronx liaison for former city comptroller William Thompson. But now he faces one of the most difficult campaigns of his career — unseating Rev. Diaz, a well-known charismatic but conservative Senator.

“Anything can happen,” said Peter Rivera, long-time Assemblyman for the 76th District, who was recently joined by Ramos on-stage at Bronx Unity Day celebrations. “I don’t know if he’s going to win. It’s all a question of effort. It’s all a question of fund raising. It’s all a question of being out there. I think he’s doing some of those things that can make it a race.”

Ramos campaigning on Southern Boulevard

Ramos campaigning on Southern Boulevard

It at least looked like a race on the Southern Boulevard in Hunts Point late last week. Ramos, Hernandez, Cruz and a number of campaign volunteers walked up and down the street, shaking hands, handing out flyers, chatting in Spanish, forcing smiles when passersby refused to make eye contact — it’s a tough crowd. While Hernandez and Cruz were dressed comfortably, Ramos went all out, sporting a light blue suit, tie and slicked back hair. It might be a difficult bid for the senate seat, but he already looked the part.

It’s a bid that nearly didn’t get off the ground. Much of the lead up to the campaign was spent working with law students to fight Diaz’s court challenge to the number of signatures Ramos received to get on the ballot, he said. He won that first battle, becoming Diaz’s first primary challenger since his election in 2002.

“The mere fact we got on the ballot was a victory for us,” Ramos said. “Diaz was livid, I heard. So that was a testimony that people are looking for reform.”

But if Diaz is still livid, it was not immediately apparent. “My opponent? What opponent?” he chuckled over the phone from his office in Hunts Point. Diaz has labelled Ramos “ungrateful” in the past, saying his family gave him a second chance. “When he came out of jail nobody wants to know him. His nickname was Charlie Lump, and we gave Charlie Lump a second chance after he came out of doing two years in prison,” Diaz said.

“People are not willing to change a working senator for gay marriage,” said Diaz, who has consistently opposed lesbian and gay rights issues. “He’s just offering gay marriage, that’s all he’s offering. Gay marriage.”

With Diaz’s open opposition to gay marriage and abortion, gay groups and women’s organizations, including Planned Parenthood, the LGBT Chamber of Commerce and the Empire State Pride Agenda, have flocked to endorse Ramos.

He represents a stark contrast to the sombrero-wearing Senator, but Ramos said his campaign is broader than gay marriage. “Yes, I do support that cause and that issue,” Ramos said, “but I ran a whole laundry list of how Diaz has been voting against the interests of our community.”

Fixing housing and education in the district are at the top of Ramos’ to-do list — he speaks loftily about philosopher Paulo Freire’s theory of the “pedagogy of the oppressed” and what he calls the “banking” system of education, saying it’s all about depositing knowledge in students without the withdrawal. One of his dreams, he said, is to found an institution to train young people in the Bronx to be the political leaders in the future. “I got lucky because I worked with a lot of white liberal groups, and they taught me the craft,” he said.

White liberal groups are sending money Ramos’s way, but his campaign is operating on a shoestring. He has amassed nearly $16,000 in donations since June, amounts that came through in small amounts from all over the city and the country. His opponent’s war chest, on the other hand, includes almost $100,000 or more.

But Ramos said running a good campaign is not about the money. Unions like the Teamsters are communicating directly with their members on his behalf. “It’s their work,” said Ramos. “I don’t know how much money they’re going to spend, but I’m assuming a lot.”

It’s campaigning by stealth.

Charlie Ramos is deep in enemy territory. Emblazoned proudly in the lobby of the Casa Boricua Senior Centre is the name of his opponent for the 32nd New York District Senate seat, Rev. Ruben Diaz, an eight-term incumbent with deep roots in Bronx politics.

Not that Ramos makes it as far as the lobby. His campaign team is politely told to come back the next day. They loiter outside for a few minutes, handing pamphlets to random people.

“I’ve been exposed to the latest technology of running campaigns, I’ve been on the other side of the aisle — basically getting people elected,” Ramos said, chewing on a Subway sandwich.

Raised in Soundview, the Nuyorican — a term he uses to describe New Yorkers of Puerto Rican heritage — launched his career in politics after spending much of his 20s in and out of prison for selling and possessing drugs, according to official records.

“I grew up in a single parent home,” the 40-year-old explained. Usually quick with a quip, he clammed up talking about his past. “It’s like you’re seeking attention, you’re missing a parent. And so you go into the streets. So, yes, I got in trouble with the law. I did what most kids in my neighborhood were doing back then, which was making money. My mother was on public assistance, and she struggled.”

Ramos and his running mates refer to themselves as insurgents: three Democratic candidates taking on the status quo in the southwest Bronx. Carmen Hernandez, a woman of the cloth who walks with a steel frame, is running for local district leader position. Israel Cruz, a community activist, is shooting for the 85th Assembly district. And Carlos “Charlie” Ramos, is a campaign worker turned state senate candidate. The three share a cramped office on Westchester Avenue, plastered with campaign posters. An old sign advertising income tax services is clearly visible over their election headquarters lettering.

As a student at City University, he worked for his opponent’s son, Ruben Diaz Jr, while the younger Diaz was a State Assemblyman. He later held jobs in voter mobilization and community organizing, most recently as the Bronx liaison for former city comptroller William Thompson. But now he faces one of the most difficult campaigns of his career — unseating Rev. Diaz, a well-known charismatic but conservative Senator.

“Anything can happen,” said Peter Rivera, long-time Assemblyman for the 76th District, who was recently joined by Ramos on-stage at Bronx Unity Day celebrations. “I don’t know if he’s going to win. It’s all a question of effort. It’s all a question of fund raising. It’s all a question of being out there. I think he’s doing some of those things that can make it a race.”

It at least looked like a race on the Southern Boulevard in Hunts Point late last week. Ramos, Hernandez, Cruz and a number of campaign volunteers walked up and down the street, shaking hands, handing out flyers, chatting in Spanish, forcing smiles when passersby refused to make eye contact — it’s a tough crowd. While Hernandez and Cruz were dressed comfortably, Ramos went all out, sporting a light blue suit, tie and slicked back hair. It might be a difficult bid for the senate seat, but he already looked the part.

It’s a bid that nearly didn’t get off the ground. Much of the lead up to the campaign was spent working with law students to fight Diaz’s court challenge to the number of signatures Ramos received to get on the ballot, he said. He won that first battle, becoming Diaz’s first primary challenger since his election in 2002.

“The mere fact we got on the ballot was a victory for us,” Ramos said. “Diaz was livid, I heard. So that was a testimony that people are looking for reform.”

But if Diaz is still livid, it was not immediately apparent. “My opponent? What opponent?” he chuckled over the phone from his office in Hunts Point. Diaz has labelled Ramos “ungrateful” in the past, saying his family gave him a second chance. “When he came out of jail nobody wants to know him. His nickname was Charlie Lump, and we gave Charlie Lump a second chance after he came out of doing two years in prison,” Diaz said.

“People are not willing to change a working senator for gay marriage,” said Diaz, who has consistently opposed lesbian and gay rights issues. “He’s just offering gay marriage, that’s all he’s offering. Gay marriage.”

With Diaz’s open opposition to gay marriage and abortion, gay groups and women’s organizations, including Planned Parenthood, the LGBT Chamber of Commerce and the Empire State Pride Agenda, have flocked to endorse Ramos.

He represents a stark contrast to the sombrero-wearing Senator, but Ramos said his campaign is broader than gay marriage. “Yes, I do support that cause and that issue,” Ramos said, “but I ran a whole laundry list of how Diaz has been voting against the interests of our community.”

Fixing housing and education in the district are at the top of Ramos’ to-do list — he speaks loftily about philosopher Paulo Freire’s theory of the “pedagogy of the oppressed” and what he calls the “banking” system of education, saying it’s all about depositing knowledge in students without the withdrawal. One of his dreams, he said, is to found an institution to train young people in the Bronx to be the political leaders in the future. “I got lucky because I worked with a lot of white liberal groups, and they taught me the craft,” he said.

White liberal groups are sending money Ramos’s way, but his campaign is operating on a shoestring. He has amassed nearly $16,000 in donations since June, amounts that came through in small amounts from all over the city and the country. His opponent’s war chest, on the other hand, includes almost $100,000 or more.

But Ramos said running a good campaign is not about the money. Unions like the Teamsters are communicating directly with their members on his behalf. “It’s their work,” said Ramos. “I don’t know how much money they’re going to spend, but I’m assuming a lot.”

It’s campaigning by stealth.

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