Friday, Oct. 18, 2002 | 11 a.m.
Dario Herrera cuts through a swath of senior citizens with small talk and smiles, the way most 29-year-old men might work a hot night club.
Herrera, vying to be Nevada's first congressman in District 3, was in his element during a campaign stop late last month at the Henderson Senior Center.
"I should have brought my grass skirt," he says, eyeing both the Hawaiian band entertaining about 100 older residents and his field director hustling by with voter registration forms and Herrera literature.
As Herrera moved through the packed lunch room with a red, white and blue lei, he spoke briefly in Tagalog with a Filipino; talked baseball with a man in a Dodger hat; answered 12 people's questions about Social Security and flashed his signature killer smile to grinning widows asking if he had a girlfriend.
Sen. Harry Reid, D-Nev., says Herrera is the ideal candidate. "He's tall, dark, handsome, smart, articulate and athletic," Reid said.
Despite a sudden ascent from folding shirts at the Gap to chairing the powerful Clark County Commission by age 26, Herrera has also packed the kind of political baggage this year alone that could derail this run and others.
By all accounts, Republican Jon Porter has an edge in the race, although how big that margin is depends on which side of the aisle you ask the question.
Herrera says he thinks questions about his personal finances and a $42,000 consulting contract he obtained from the Las Vegas Housing Authority without bidding or board approval are simply "personal attacks."
He would much prefer discussing prescription drugs, Social Security and corporate scandals, but just as a potential war with Iraq takes political focus off of domestic issues, the ads about Herrera's character often keep him from his strength.
Publicity over a loan Herrera got from a man convicted of defrauding the Teamsters pension fund 30 years ago caused a major police union to pull its endorsement just as Herrera's campaign had begun recovering from a Springtime of concern over the housing contract.
"I'm far too busy to be swayed by these partisan political attacks," Herrera said in an interview with the Sun in July. "I think voters in the 3rd District deserve a campaign about issues, not one of vicious personal attacks."
Herrera calls his platform: "Dario's Nevada Families First Agenda." It is heavy with the type of Democratic Party rhetoric tailored to Nevada that plays well to union workers and senior citizens.
But Herrera isn't a cookie-cutter Democrat. He supports smaller government and has proven to be a fiscal conservative in his one term as a state Assemblyman and his one term on the commission.
At the Henderson Senior Center, Social Security is all the buzz and Herrera is quick with his stock "I will never, ever vote to privatize Social Security."
Later in the day touring the Culinary Union's training facility in downtown Las Vegas, Herrera squeezes through the hot kitchen telling workers in Spanish that he has a 100 percent voting record with unions like their's.
He puts on a "Union Yes" button, poses for pictures, hugs waitresses and sits down for a grilled ham and cheese sandwich as diners at nearby tables flip through literature Team Herrera has left.
Danny Thompson, director of the Nevada AFL-CIO, said he thinks union members will make the difference in this election.
Thompson and Co. are on the ground knocking doors and reminding union households -- which make up 23 percent of the district -- to get out the vote.
"We're behind him all the way," Thompson said. "We think this race is going to be decided in the field, not on television and not by Porter."
Here in union territory at the Culinary facility Herrera is seen as a hero. He speaks their language -- whether in English or Spanish -- and shares small talk of his being raised just like many of these trainees, without a father and without a lot of money.
Herrera was born in Miami in 1973, the son of Cuban immigrants. His father left when he was two and is now serving time in prison for a drug offense.
"I don't talk about that," Herrera said. "As far as I'm concerned, my Mom is my Mom and Dad."
Herrera's mother worked two jobs to support he and his two sisters. At Southwest Miami Senior High School, Herrera was a standout quarterback and basketball player but a disengaged student until he really started talking to his basketball coach, Tom Moore.
"He made me realize there was more to life than just sports and messing around with your friends," Herrera said. "He encouraged me to go to college."
Herrera left Miami in 1991 to attend the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, where he was a walk-on football player and founder of the Ethnic Student Council. He graduated with honors with a degree in political science and immediately put it to use. He spoke at a Hispanic leadership conference and caught Reid's eye.
"You could tell then that he had something special," Reid said. "That's why we encouraged him to run for Assembly."
Herrera won an Assembly seat at age 22, and after just one term, ran for and won election to the county commission. He met his wife, Emily, during that campaign and has been married for three years. The couple's son, Cruz, is 19-months-old.
"I guess the thing he'll remember from this campaign is that Daddy was gone a lot," Herrera said.
Campaign days are packed and a typical one will have Herrera running from tours of businesses to bingo games at assisted living centers to two hours of door-knocking. Herrera lifts his left foot to show the hole forming in the dress shoe leather.
On one day, Herrera stopped by Horizon Pines adult community for a birthday party for residents and ended up locked in a Chinese checkers match with a man he didn't really want to beat, but Herrera's competitive pride forced a best of three series.
Sheila Doucette watched the young man intently studying his next move.
"He just seems to be so sincere," Doucette said. "He seems very interested in the seniors' problems."
"He's not at all the way they portray him on TV," Horizon Pines director Libby Alexander adds.
Herrera hopes that's the impression he leaves with each person he meets.
"They can call me whatever they want to until Nov. 5, as long as on Nov. 5 they call me congressman."
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