An American Son: A Memoir

by Marco Rubio

  The Tucson border sector in Arizona is the scene of rampant illegal crossings, drug smuggling, gunrunning and human trafficking. An all-out drug war in Mexico was starting to export violence to Arizona cities. Arizonans were fed up. They wanted something done immediately to address the crisis, and state legislators had answered by passing the new immigration law.

  When I was first asked about it, I strongly criticized the law and said it raised the specter of a police state. But as I learned more about the situation in Arizona, the provisions of the law and the modifications that had been made to it, I softened my opinion. I still didn’t support state immigration laws, and I didn’t want a law like Arizona’s enacted in Florida. But I understood why Arizonans supported it. If I had been in their shoes and my state had been overrun by cross-border violence, I probably would have voted for it, too.

  Now I was getting it from all sides. The anti-illegal-immigrant crowd was upset with me because I didn’t think Florida should pass a similar law. Pro-immigrant groups denounced me for supporting the law in Arizona. I had managed to unite both sides against me.

  For a time, the Arizona law became a litmus test issue in the national debate on immigration. You were either for it or against it. Like the debate itself, there seemed to be only two acceptable positions: you were either for strictly enforcing immigration law and expelling all people who were in the country illegally or you were in favor of letting them all stay. But it’s always been hard for me to see the issue in such black-and-white terms.

  The anti-illegal-immigration side often loses perspective on the issue. But the pro-immigration crowd is also guilty of a maximalist approach. They ignore how illegal immigration unfairly affects immigrants who live here legally or are trying to immigrate here legally.

  Every year my Senate office is approached by hundreds of people who request our assistance in expediting changes to their immigration status. They’ve followed the rules, paid the necessary fees and patiently waited. It isn’t fair to them to permit millions of people to remain here who didn’t follow their example and apply for legal status. What message does that send to aspiring immigrants? It tells them they can immigrate to our country a lot quicker if they do so illegally.

  Immigration advocates also allow themselves to be manipulated politically, which is something Cuban Americans have experienced in every election. Many candidates have campaigned in Miami’s Cuban communities promising to get tough on Castro. “Cuba Libre,” they shout, and then, after they’re elected, they ignore the issue. Today, it’s common for Democratic candidates to make all sorts of unrealistic promises about immigration reform to Latinos in the hope of mobilizing their support, and once in office they fail to keep them. President Obama was elected with a substantial majority of Latino support even though John McCain was one of the most outspoken immigration reform advocates in the Republican Party. The president promised he would pass comprehensive immigration reform in his first year in office. He didn’t. He didn’t even propose a comprehensive bill despite having Democratic majorities in both houses of Congress. Why? Because the solution is a lot more complicated and harder to put together than Democrats ever concede. Also, immigration is such an effective wedge issue against Republicans, some Democrats would just as soon keep it than make the necessary concessions that could lead to a bipartisan resolution of the issue.

  Immigration reform advocates have allowed Democrats to define the debate by insisting on support for specific bills that are unlikely to become law in their current form. For example, the vast majority of Americans and my Republican colleagues support the idea behind the DREAM Act, of making a distinction for and helping undocumented students who are high academic achievers—kids who were brought to the United States when they were very young and have grown up here. They’re ready to contribute to the country’s future. They’re not in compliance with immigration law and, thus, not American citizens. But they are culturally as American as anyone else’s children. I’m sure we would find a way to keep them here if they could dunk a basketball. Why would we deport them if they’re valedictorian of their high school class?

  But the bill is too broad as currently written. It could encourage chain migration, by authorizing the relatives of students covered by the act to come here. A narrower bill would serve the same primary purpose of the DREAM Act, permit undocumented students to remain in the country and go to school without exacerbating the illegal immigration problem. The modifications necessary to assure its passage are not difficult to conceive or write into law. Nor should they trouble people on either side of the debate. But many activists refuse to concede that and denounce any opposition to the current DREAM Act as anti-immigrant. And many Democrats happily urge them on. I don’t question that many of my Democratic colleagues are sincere in their desire to help undocumented students. So am I. But I’m not so naive that I don’t recognize that some Democrats enjoy the advantage with Latino voters that Republican opposition to the bill gives them.

  There is no doubt, either, that the rhetoric and tone used by some Republican opponents of immigration reform have hurt the party with Hispanics. George W. Bush strongly supported comprehensive reform, yet his support among Latinos lagged behind his Democratic opponents’. John McCain was the chief Republican sponsor of comprehensive reform legislation, but he lost Hispanics to President Obama by more than a two to one margin. Most Hispanics have long been Democratic voters. But there are growing numbers of them who might be open to supporting Republicans. Many of them are socially conservative, and worried about the influence on their children of our hypersexualized secular pop culture. Republican support for traditional cultural values appeals to them. Many Hispanic voters who lawfully immigrated here did so for the economic opportunities available here and to escape the hardships caused by the government-dominated economies in their countries of origin. The Republican free-enterprise agenda attracts them as well. But it is very difficult to appeal to Hispanic voters for their support when they believe Republicans are trying to deport their loved ones.

  I often feel as if I live in two worlds. I get angry when I hear stories of couples from wealthy families who come to Miami from overseas in the last weeks of a pregnancy, deliver their children at Jackson Memorial so their babies are born American citizens and then leave the country and stick the American public with their hospital bills. I appreciate the frustration people have when they feel their country is being overwhelmed by illegal immigration.

  On the other hand, when I hear some people accuse immigrants of destroying the American economy and culture and stealing jobs from American citizens, it stirs my anger, too. I can’t stand to hear immigrants described in terms more appropriate to a plague of locusts than human beings. And although I believe they are a small minority, I begin to wonder if some of the people who speak so disparagingly about immigrants would be just as worked up if most of them were coming from Canada.

  I understand it is a difficult issue. It’s a law-and-order issue. But it’s also an issue about human dignity and common decency. And when we lose sight of either aspect of the issue, we harm ourselves as well as the people who wish to live here. Many people who come here illegally are doing exactly what we would do if we lived in a country where we couldn’t feed our families. If my kids went to sleep hungry every night and my country didn’t give me an opportunity to feed them, there isn’t a law, no matter how restrictive, that would prevent me from coming here. We should debate our differences on immigration with regard to all the issues that deserve our respect and attention.

  The firestorm over the immigration issue slowly died down, but the BP oil spill was an entirely different matter. Crist used his governor’s office masterfully and to full effect. It seemed as if he held a press conference every night to highlight his latest effort to save Florida’s coastline. He took well-publicized trips to affected beaches. He called for a special session of the legislature to pass an offshore drilling ban.

  My campaign was knocked off ba
lance. For over a year, our plan was a simple one. We needed to convince Republican primary voters to send someone to Washington who would stand up to President Obama and the Democratic leadership in Congress. There was no way Charlie Crist could win a primary that was defined by that aspiration. But I no longer had a primary opponent. I had general election opponents. My message had to be broader. And we hadn’t yet found one. As Memorial Day neared and another poll showed Crist ahead, some of the campaign staff became seriously worried that we were drifting.

  I took my family to the Florida Keys for a few days of rest over the holiday weekend. On Saturday morning I got a call from my sister Barbara. My father was incoherent and barely conscious. Jeanette and I raced home from the Keys and met my family at the hospital. My father’s condition looked very grim.

  Another battery of tests couldn’t confirm what was wrong. He was suffering strokelike symptoms. His mouth was turned down and his speech was slurred. The words we could manage to make out didn’t make sense.

  He improved slowly over the next few days. I spent the nights sleeping in a cot next to his bed. He kept me awake much of the night as he called out to his brothers, Papo and Emilio. He addressed them as if they were in the room. Is this what you see before you die? I wondered. Do you see your deceased relatives arrive to bring you to the afterlife?

  As it turned out, he was hallucinating, probably in reaction to the chemotherapy. He had gotten an infection from the chemo that manifested itself neurologically. We brought him home a few days later. It was clear now there would be no more chemotherapy. All we could do now was make him as comfortable as possible for however many weeks or months he had left.

  CHAPTER 34

  Dog Days of Summer

  At the time, all discipline seems cause not for joy but for pain, yet later, it brings the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who are trained by it.

  —Hebrews 12:11

  A YEAR BEFORE, I WAS BROKE, TRAILING BADLY IN THE polls and afraid. The campaign had become a predicament I couldn’t escape. I couldn’t find a way to win, or a way out. So I accepted what I believed would be my inevitable humiliation, and God used my despair to lead me to Him. Then the race turned, and I gained the upper hand. In the summer of 2010, it had turned once more. I was trailing Charlie Crist again. He had seized his opportunity and played it well. But now I saw my changing fortunes for what they were: just another test. Whether I won or lost the election wouldn’t matter as much in my life as whether I had learned to put my trust in Him.

  All around me was worry and near despair. My campaign staff, many of whom had joined the campaign only a few weeks before, complained I wasn’t showing enough leadership on the oil spill. They wanted me to spend a week in the Panhandle, matching Crist event for event. I needed a broader message, too, they advised. I couldn’t win now by being the more conservative candidate. I had to appeal more to independents.

  I wasn’t the same person I had been a year before. I wasn’t the self-reliant, worldly young man with all the answers anymore. I accepted I wouldn’t always know what I should do. But I didn’t rattle as easily, either. I still had a long way to go in my walk in faith, but I had come a long way from where I had begun. I tried to turn to God before I relied on myself. And I prayed for wisdom and the strength to accept His will.

  I realized I couldn’t command as much attention on the oil spill as the governor could. If the election was defined by the oil spill, I would lose, and I accepted it. Traveling the state trying to imitate him would be a waste of time, and counterproductive. We would be playing his game and, in effect, helping him make the election about a debate I couldn’t win.

  I believed that by Labor Day, when voters refocused on the race, their attention would return to the economy and the direction of the country. If we were ready then to win the argument about which candidate was more committed to changing the country’s direction, we would win the election. So I spent most of the summer laying out the policy ideas that would be the foundation of my argument for change in the fall. It wasn’t glamorous work. Traveling the state giving policy speeches isn’t as exciting as a full-throated battle for the heart and soul of the Republican Party. But it prepared the ground on which I would fight and win in the fall.

  We built up our organization as well: our get-out-the-vote infrastructure, our absentee ballot program, our county-level volunteer teams, all the blocking and tackling the press mostly ignores but that make a big difference on Election Day. And we raised money, building up the war chest we would need in the fall. It was tedious work, outside the media spotlight and a letdown for many who had joined us thinking they were enlisting in a nationalized campaign with national media attention. I used my football experiences as a metaphor to encourage them and myself.

  You spend the summer months getting ready for the football season by training in the gym and on the field. Before training camp even begins, and months before the first game, you spend long hours lifting weights and running conditioning drills. There are no crowds to inspire you. There are no television cameras recording off-season workouts. It’s just you and a few teammates, out on the field in the early-morning hours, grinding it out and getting stronger. That’s what we were doing that summer. All the fund-raising and policy speeches and grassroots building was the thankless grunt work that would pay off in the fourth quarter of the championship game that was still months away.

  We hit some bumps along the way. Back in 2005, I bought a house in Tallahassee with David Rivera, where I stayed while I was in the legislature and working in the capital. After I left the legislature, I allowed my part of the house to be used by others in exchange for assuming my portion of the monthly payments. Or so I had believed. In fact, complete payments hadn’t been made for several months, and there was a dispute about how much was owed each month. As soon as I found out about the problem, I called the bank to discuss it. The bank referred me to a law firm in Ft. Lauderdale that was now handling the file. When I called the law firm, they informed me they had just received the file and would call me back when they had reviewed it. But the next day, before returning my call, they initiated the first steps in the foreclosure process.

  The firm would later be sanctioned by the state of Florida for unfair practices. It was a foreclosure mill. Rather than work with home owners to settle disputes, it rushed to file foreclosures so it could collect attorneys’ fees and costs. We finally got someone at the firm to talk to me the next day. David went to the firm’s office in Broward County and paid the total amount due, including legal fees, with a cashier’s check. Disaster averted, or so I thought.

  Alex Burgos got a call from the Palm Beach Post. They had been tipped off about the filing. Alex explained there had been a dispute about how much we owed, but we had resolved it and were no longer in arrears. The story ran away. “Rubio Faces Foreclosure on Tally Home,” the headline blared.

  There was more bad news the next day. The Florida Chamber of Commerce released the findings of a new poll it had commissioned. Crist’s lead was growing. He was ten points ahead now, and the media was taking notice. Adam Smith posed the question on his blog: “Has Marco Rubio lost his mojo?” The gist of his speculation was that I had lost the energy that had once characterized my campaign. He acknowledged that part of the reason was the publicity Crist received during the oil spill. But he also thought I was struggling to make the transition from a Republican primary candidate to a general election candidate.

  There was some truth to the lost-energy speculation. It did feel like we had less energy, but not for the reasons Adam believed. There had been so much anticipation built up in the state for the primary that would help decide the national debate over the direction of the Republican Party, so there was a natural letdown when Crist pulled out of the primary. The general election was four months away. Voters naturally were less engaged. Kids were out of school and families were on vacation. And our campaign was concentrating on the unseen and less exciting work of organization
building and fund-raising. But Adam’s article reinforced the new narrative of the campaign. Charlie had turned around the race. I was off balance and struggling in a general election environment.

  The Miami Herald ran a piece that called the oil spill Charlie Crist’s “lucky charm.” As we headed into the Fourth of July, the conventional wisdom held that Charlie was back in control of the race and we were floundering. The Crist campaign took the opportunity to proclaim the return of the “happy warrior.” There would be no more attacks on me or any candidate, he promised.

  Behind the scenes, though, his campaign was still pushing story lines that would put me at a disadvantage. They tried to raise expectations for my fund-raising that they didn’t believe I could meet. They argued to reporters that since I was now the presumptive Republican nominee, I should be able to beat Crist’s record-setting first-quarter fund-raising total. If I couldn’t, then the failure was further evidence I was losing steam.

  I tried to ignore the distractions and continued raising money, rolling out our policy initiatives and building our get-out-the-vote operation. I was convinced that once voters focused on the race again, my numbers would improve. President Obama’s policies were becoming even more unpopular in Florida, and I was the only candidate who opposed them. I still had less name recognition with general election voters than Crist did, and the summer polls reflected that. That would change once I started to buy television time in the fall and introduced myself to them.

  These were the dog days of summer. The crowds at my speeches were half as big as they’d been before Crist dropped out of the primary. The press had lost much of its interest in my candidacy. It wasn’t easy to see a light at the end of the tunnel. It took patient confidence that I had not always possessed. But I did now. I sincerely believed that, by the fall, if we had done the quiet but important work we needed to do that summer, I would pull ahead again and never look back.