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The newly naturalized join the native-born electorate, growing by hundreds of thousands of voters each year.
In 1994 Latinos pulled ahead of all other immigrant groups. And 150,000 Latinos turn voting age each year.
"All the pieces are in place," Gonzalez says.
Rosario Marin, a Huntington Park councilwoman and close friend of Gov. Pete Wilson, is having a hard time admitting that Republican immigration policies hurt her feelings or that they had a driving effect on Latinos voting Democratic in 1996. She is, after all, a "proud Republican" who was a featured floor speaker at the 1996 GOP convention.
She blames the media and Democrats, saying they distorted Gov. Wilson's stands on immigration. "Every time I heard the governor speak on immigration he was always very careful to say that legal immigration is good and that it was only illegal immigration he opposed," says the 38-year-old mother of three.
But after dodging for about 20 minutes, the naturalized immigrant from Mexico breaks down. "Of course it was offensive and hurtful," she says of Republican anti-immigrant rhetoric and policies. "Of course it was painful to the Latino community, and it needs to stop."
Other Republican activists, from Anglo consultants to longtime Latino Republicans, say their party must realize that it can't continue to count on a dwindling niche of older, Anglo, suburban voters; the future, demographically speaking, is with Latinos.
The co-owner of Brooklyn Tire Service in East L.A. is another "proud Republican," he announces. And like Rosario Marin, he's Latino to the marrow. Sergio Becerra is the son of immigrants from Mexico who taught him the conservative values he holds dearly to today: hard work and love of God, family, and country. The former police officer and Air Force veteran professes profound confusion as to why nearly 80 percent of Latinos voted Democratic in November.
"I find it strange with the way we are brought up, because of our values of self-reliance and family and church, that so many voted Democratic," he says.
Indeed, the Tomas Rivera Center, in a 1996 poll, has found some significant conservative streaks running through Latino public opinion. While a majority of Latinos support affirmative action, a majority also favor curfew laws and a two-year limit on welfare (including for parents with small children), and believe that ending welfare payments after two years will make things better in Latino neighborhoods.
Opinions on immigration hold to more liberal lines, but still exhibit a certain conservatism. Forty percent of those polled favor government ID cards for citizens and residents that would be required for employment and public services. Likewise, 37 percent support significantly reducing legal immigration.
East L.A. college students Lynnette and Rumaldo Salcedo are good examples of how liberal and conservative ideals coexist in the Latino community -- sometimes in the same voter. The brother and sister, whose grandparents emigrated from Mexico, both voted against Prop. 209 this year, the first year of voting for both of them. "It was going to deny me my equal opportunity," Lynnette, 19, says, sounding like a true Democrat -- which she is.
But she also voted against the state measure to legalize medical marijuana. "It would make it easier for children to get drugs," she says. And Rumaldo, 22, says he registered and began voting to affect policies like welfare reform, which he hopes will make it harder for deadbeats to get "a free ride."
So why did the community come out so passionately for Clinton and other Democratic candidates?
"This is more an expression of Latinos rejecting the Republican Party than it is a reflection of loyalty to the Democratic Party," answers Fernando Gomez-Benitez, the Northern California director of the Latino Coalition on Civil Rights.
The most celebrated recipient of the Latino vote, Rep. Loretta Sanchez (D-Garden Grove), agrees. "The Latino vote is still up for grabs," says the 36-year-old financial adviser who drew on the Latino vote in her Orange County District to defeat Rep. Bob Dornan, the extreme Republican. "The Democrats have to get smart and put together a program to keep Latinos in their court. There won't always be a Prop. 187."
Sanchez typifies many things about the new Latino clout. Her party loyalty is in flux. She was a Republican until 1994, when she switched. "I didn't like the Pat Buchanan types who said a woman should be at home pregnant and in the kitchen," she says. "It also had to do with the beginnings of the anti-immigrant movement."
Sanchez is a first-generation child of immigrants. Her parents came here from Mexico 40 years ago, but only naturalized and started voting this year -- out of reaction to the anti-immigrant rhetoric, she says.
And like many new Latino voters, she does not hold to liberal dicta. "I am a conservative Democrat," she says.
Some more left-leaning circles in the community are pushing for things like another immigration amnesty and a $7 minimum wage. Asked about such bold strokes, most of the architects and elected beneficiaries of the new voter surge respond similarly: eyes roll, lips sneer.
Some elected officials have talked about using their newfound influence to push for more English-as-a-second-language classes and a streamlining of the naturalization process, perhaps letting legal residents with a college degree including U.S. history forgo the test. But generally speaking, policies tailored specifically for the Latino community are not a high priority.
Like other Latino elected officials, Sanchez avoids special-interest topics. "The issues we talked about transcend [race]," she says of her campaign themes. "We talked about crime and schools. Everyone worries about those issues. It's more important to have food on the table than whether lesbians and gays hang in your district. It's more important to send kids to good schools than if you support a woman's right to choose."
The new member of the Congressional Latino Caucus ponders just what she owes to the Latino voters, immigrant and native-born, who she says produced about one-third of the votes for her historic victory. "Nothing more," she says, "than I owe anyone else in my district who voted for me or not."
