Minority rule

Is there a price to pay in becoming too professional? Centro Las Americas learns the hard way that flirting with Worcester's establishment can have its costs

by Kristen Lombardi

Whenever the name "Coprocla" came up last year, Centro Las Americas trustees would bristle. An acronym for Comite Pro-Rescate De Centro Las Americas (Committee for the Rescue of Centro Las Americas), Coprocla was started by 45 Latino activists intent on "helping redirect Centro," recollects Juan Gomez, two-time city-council candidate and chairman of the now disbanded committee. Coprocla took Centro board members by surprise with the first organized critique of the 20-year-old Latin-American agency's broad array of programs, ranging from job training to funeral planning. Centro, Coprocla charged, no longer served Worcester's 20,000 Hispanics and was plagued by fiscal mismanagement. Just as significantly, the committee accused the 29-member board of fostering a stern, business-like atmosphere that alienated clients and of abandoning the Latino community by allowing non-Hispanics to take over the board. More than 50 percent of the board was white -- bank executives, university officials, lawyers, and school employees. Even the Latinos serving on Centro's board weren't from Main South, Great Brook Valley, or Plumley Village. They were middle-class professionals from the suburbs. Although non-Hispanic involvement had brought the agency increased recognition and funding, Coprocla essentially accused Centro of becoming too white.

"There was a sense that Centro had lost touch with the community," says Gomez. "It's a Latino organization, and it must maintain minority control. People said the agency wasn't a friendly place anymore. Its relationship with [its clients] was faltering because of [a lack of] trust."

Surprisingly, board members never challenged Coprocla's claims, even after T&G articles revealed Centro's internal problems. Indeed, at the time, Centro managed a $1 million budget with a $55,000 deficit.

In reaction to Coprocla's charges, Centro did an about-face. After Elmer Eubanks, Centro's economic-development coordinator, was named executive director earlier this year, the board eliminated its deficit by cutting staff and services. It appointed three Worcester Latinos to its board, increasing Hispanic representation to 51 percent. And staff began responding to client complaints "as quickly as possible to avoid conflict," says Eubanks. Coprocla members, who never intended to "shut Centro down," says Gomez, have been satisfied.

It appeared Centro had managed to save face. But nowadays Latinos are again voicing dissatisfaction -- this time for the agency's inability to stand up for Hispanics' rights against city government.

Outraged by arrests this winter of three Hispanics at the Worcester Youth Center, including founder Manny Guerra and director Aldofo Arrastia, a growing number of Latinos complain that Centro failed to confront city officials with what they consider a blatant act of discrimination. "People wanted Centro to post banners and picket in front of City Hall," says Eubanks, who instead went behind-the-scenes and asked Mayor Raymond Mariano for a resolution.

The charges were eventually dismissed, but Centro's lack of visible protest struck deeply in the community. The agency has a tradition of fighting against discrimination aimed at the city's Latinos. It successfully pushed for bilingual education in Worcester public schools, translators at city hospitals, and an investigation into the death of Cristino Hernandez, who died as a result of a police beating during his arrest -- caught on video -- in 1993. But much of the advocacy Centro is noted for occurred years ago, when Gladys Rodriguez-Parker (who now runs US Rep. James McGovern's district office) headed the agency.

Today more Latinos complain that Centro cannot represent the rapidly growing Hispanic community as long as prominent white bankers and lawyers remain on its board. And many Latino activists worry the agency will sidestep conflict to protect its services. Local business owner José Perez, a candidate for school committee and longtime activist, says, Centro should be "a voice for the underprivileged and downtrodden, but [it] hasn't been that yet."

Eubanks agrees many members hesitate to take political stands because funders might rescind money or challenge the agency's non-profit status. But the inclusion of non-Hispanics has brought the agency credibility and an opportunity for behind-the-scenes advocacy, Centro supporters say. High-profile whites have also opened up funding possibilities for an agency long passed over for corporate donations.

"We don't have Latinos who are presidents of banks. We need that [kind of] rank-and-file on the board for influence," says Rodriguez-Parker.

Eubanks acknowledges the criticisms but expresses a certain exasperation with this latest grievance. "We're not as active in advocacy. But we need to define what critical issues to advocate for. We cannot push for everything under the moon."

Maybe so. But Centro is falling short of community expectations. As the board and staff prepare to celebrate the agency's 20th anniversary, Centro runs the risk of internal turmoil once again being played out in public. To avoid repeating history, Centro needs to master diplomacy by figuring out how to advocate for and serve the Latino community.

Part 2

Kristen Lombardi can be reached at klombardi[a]phx.com.