Activists for ACORN refuse to give up in scandal’s wake
LOS ANGELES (AP) — Armed with little more than pen and pad, ACORN organizer David Mazariegos hits inner-city streets to save his embattled employer rather than his usual mission of saving homes from foreclosure.
Mazariegos approaches Jose and Maria Rodriguez on their patio surrounded by overflowing potted plants and a Virgin of Guadelupe statue and asks if they would speak at a news conference about how ACORN saved their house.
Maria Rodriguez doesn’t hesitate.
“The only people who helped us were ACORN. We tried to negotiate with the bank, but they wouldn’t listen,” she says. “We paid $5,000 to a company to help us fix the loan. They took the money and didn’t do anything.”
As the nonprofit strives to survive the worst scandal in its 39-year history — videotapes of staffers counseling a faux pimp and prostitute how to run a brothel — the organization is doing what it does best: mobilizing low- income people. In this case, the goal is to restore the organization’s credibility.
The mobilization effort is unfolding on several fronts. People such as Rodriguez are being asked to speak up about how ACORN saved them. She and her husband also agreed to work a phone bank and bring five new people to the next community meeting. And ACORN officials say people are donating more money as they rally to the organization’s defense.
“The truth is it broke my heart,” Mazariegos said of the scandal. “But it doesn’t faze me. It was just a couple people who did this, not the organization.”
ACORN activists across the country say being the voice for the voiceless is the real story of their organization. That’s why they refuse to buckle to what they see as right-wing detractors trying to bring down the group because it teaches poor people to stand up for themselves.
Their work continues, whether it’s stopping bulldozing of flooded homes in New Orleans, building housing for the working poor in New York City or protesting teacher layoffs in Los Angeles.
“Most of us have the understanding that we can’t not do what we do,” said Tanya Harris, the New Orleans chief organizer who was featured in Spike Lee’s 2006 Katrina documentary “When the Levees Broke.” “If we’re taken out of the equation, what is to happen to those people?”
Fallout from the videotape scandal has been harsh. ACORN lost millions of dollars in federal funding and associations with institutions such as Bank of America and the U.S. Census Bureau. Several states, including California and Louisiana, are investigating the group’s operations.
In recent years, it has also weathered charges of voter-registration fraud and a $948,000 embezzlement by the founder’s brother. But the widely broadcast videotapes, recorded on hidden camera, have damaged the organization’s credibility, perhaps irreparably.
The scandal has shaken the group. ACORN has suspended its tax- preparation service and housing-assistance program. Foreclosure clients are now referred to counselors at the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development.
Yet the group continues to operate. Staffers are being retrained and procedures reviewed. They’re also trying to drum up cash. Last week, headquarters sent a fund-raising plea to field offices under the title “Will ACORN survive?” in a bid to make up the loss of some $2 million in government money. Most of the nonprofit’s $25 million annual budget, however, comes from the 500,000 active members. They’re asked to give $10 a month, but not all pay dues regularly.
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