I figured out long before I rose bright and early to attend Texas House candidate Philip Cortez's blockwalking and barbecue event last Saturday that the blockwalking part would come first. But I still harbored the hope that one of the organizers might have suggested that serving the barbecue before the hike would give those of us too lazy to rise in time for the free breakfast tacos something to "work off."
No dice.
When I walk into Cortez's modest headquarters, dozens of people are socializing, awaiting their assignments. A Texas Longhorns tablecloth covers a table full of campaign swag and sign-up sheets. On the wall above the table, the famous photo Small Town in Oregon Late Fall 1959, shows John F. Kennedy listening intently to a man while Jackie sips a cup of coffee. It hangs beside a 2008 photograph of Cortez shaking hands with presidential candidate Barack Obama.
Cortez’s volunteer coordinator is on her cellphone, pacing back and forth, trying to locate the campaign credit card. Someone named Rico has it. She's been left with the task of purchasing the food for the barbecue, which promises a star attraction: the appearance of Mayor Julian Castro and his twin, state Representative and congressional candidate Joaquin Castro.
The A/C, as far as I can tell, isn't working. In the conference room, staffer Jorge Urby, a 30-year-old native of Monterrey, Mexico, explains to me how the blockwalking trail is going to work. A large screen is broadcasting CNN, and a list of polling sites is posted on the wall.
"This is it," he says. Early voting begins in a little over a week for the July 31 runoff between Cortez and Tina Torres, a well-known local attorney who ran for the 288th district court two years ago. There's a makeshift countdown sign in the hallway that reads "Early vote – 9, Election vote – 17" in blue and red marker.
Cortez's office door is open and I can see the Castro brothers and Cortez engaged in conversation.
Cortez's wife, Leticia – who ran an unsuccessful campaign for the District 4 City Council seat last year after a brief stint sitting in for her husband – helped make the breakfast tacos for the volunteers, but she isn't attending the event because she isn’t feeling well.
On Saturday mornings like these, the tacos go quickly. Cortez’s supporters – firefighters and various community groups – number close to 100 now, and the energy level is rising.
Joaquin Castro just flew in from Washington D.C. When I get a quiet moment with him, I ask why he isn't supporting Torres.
"It's nothing against her," he says, leaning casually against the wall. He’s dressed in a baby blue shirt and khakis. "I respect the work that her dad [Pete Torres] did... but that was more my mom's generation. Philip worked with my brother. He's helped with my campaign. I'm just supporting a friend."
He takes his hands out of his pockets and cracks his knuckles – audibly – one by one.
"I've been walking for about a decade," he says. He’s recognized much more often these days, but even with his famous face, the hardest part of blockwalking is getting people to open the door.
"Any idea where I can find a Cortez shirt ... maybe large?" someone shouts from across the room.
Volunteers are starting to head out to the streets.
I ask Castro what one should wear to block-walk. "Not this," he says with a chuckle as he reaches for the lapel of my lined black wool sports jacket. "You're going to have to go home and change.”
Later on, I catch up with Cortez and his mother at the barbecue. A staffer offers me a hot dog wrapped in foil.
“If you want to stick around in politics, you let them do the talking,” Cortez says from behind his desk. “Just be quiet and let them talk. It’s a respect thing.”
To his left, a Hollywood director's chair that reads Philip A. Cortez appears unused.
His mother, whose name is, coincidentally, Rose, is wearing a pink “Damas for Cortez” campaign T-shirt, which proved to be a popular item – they're all out.
“My mother taught me a lot of things. Be kind to everybody. Give back," Cortez says. "Like a Kennedy.”
Rose, a petite woman, smiles shyly.
"My grandfather had pictures of the Kennedys all over his wall," she says. She recalls Jackie Kennedy speaking Spanish (well) at a "Viva Kennedy" campaign event in Houston. The experience inspired her.
"He appointed more than 40 Latinos to his administration," Cortez reports after a quick Google search. He continues reading. "Interesting,” he says, almost under his breath. “I did not know that."
"It was the whole Camelot thing. It lifted the nation when it needed it most," Rose adds later, recalling "how thick the air was during the Cuban Missile Crisis." She was 8-years-old at the time.
Cortez, who turned 34 a week earlier, explains why he didn’t enjoy working at Time-Warner, his last corporate employer.
“I felt it wasn’t enough,” he says. “If I’m not helping others, I don’t feel complete.” His voice and face are expressionless, a sign of exhaustion perhaps from his three-hour neighborhood tour. His Fossil watch shimmers under the florescent lights.
"The mayor and I hit about 35 houses today," he says. "People were shocked to see the mayor of this town at their front door. He's turning into a little celebrity."
But it’s a tough time of year to be getting out the vote, even with a Castro or two at your side.
"It's true,” he laughs. “No one's thinking, 'Oh, I have to go vote in a Democratic primary runoff.’”
Cortez, who worked his first City Hall internship at age 19, has a particularly young-looking staff.
"It's always about the generation after you," he says.
He says one of the few things doesn't like about politics is "the negativity." He got an early heads-up on that aspect of the job while interning for former Mayor Ed Garza. "At times, the press was very vicious to him for some of his stances."
Rose, having observed the mudslinging endemic to politics (Cortez’s cousin ran for Houston's City Council), admits she initially had reservations about her son’s political ambitions.
"Whatever hurts him hurts me...but I know he's strong and he can handle it," she says.
Whether or not the Castros’ backing will push him to victory on July 31 remains to be seen. But Cortez is hungry for the next step his political career and seems willing to do all the hand-shaking, name-dropping and picture-taking necessary to get his name on the November ballot.
Just like a Kennedy.
