It's a long way down from the mayor's office on the 18th floor of San Jose City Hall to the first-floor booking center at the Santa Clara County Sheriff's Department.
The arrests of Mayor Ron Gonzales, 55, and his top aide on charges of bribery and conspiracy represent the lowest point in a political career that now looks ruined. From a once promising path that started in Sunnyvale and later led him to the podium at the Democratic National Convention, Gonzales now finds himself fighting for his reputation and to stay out of jail.
The indictment says the mayor was involved in covert actions to benefit the garbage company Norcal in changing their subcontractor's union and, in the process, issued an unnecessary $11.25 million dollars to the waste hauler. The mayor says he hasn't done anything wrong. Nevertheless, the unprecedented charges have put Gonzales and members of his team under the microscope and up against critics who say he failed to follow his father's example.
"My father, my mother, our family and I have lived in this valley for over 50 years," the mayor said at City Hall five days after he was indicted. "I think we've established a strong reputation for the name Gonzales and we're going to continue to have that strong name. What's at stake here is my reputation, my family's reputation, and the reputation of my staff."
Gonzales grew up in Sunnyvale, a town that evolved from acres of fruit orchards into a hotbed of the high-tech industry. He admired the work of his father, Bob, a devout Roman Catholic who served communion wafers to farm workers in the fields. It was Bob Gonzales who first got the mayor interested in politics by bringing him to school board meetings and trading notes with him afterwards.
Sal Alvarez, a friend of Gonzales' since before his college days at the University of California-Santa Cruz, said, "Ron was very attached to his father. His life with Bob was entrenched in the service arena. The two were inseparable."
It's a mystery to people who knew the father and son, but the mayor somehow developed a far different political philosophy. Bob Gonzales was a blue-collar social activist grounded in his community. Ron Gonzales became a white-collar, fiscally conservative, networking Silicon Valleyite. The son did not have his father's charisma. He relied on his father to reach out to the public.
After attending De Anza College and UC-Santa Cruz, Ron Gonzales became the first member of the Gonzales clan to receive a college diploma. He spent some time at the Kennedy School of Government at Harvard University, then returned home and ran for mayor of Sunnyvale in 1972. He lost by 300 votes. He tried again in 1978, running unopposed, and served as mayor of Sunnyvale from 1979-1987. Under his leadership, Sunnyvale won nationwide praise for efficient management of taxpayer money.
In 1988, he won election to the Santa Clara County Board of Supervisors. He soon found himself in the minority, outnumbered by social liberals. Gonzales was the only supervisor to reject a motion to rebuild the Valley Medical Center, upsetting many in the Latino community and other supporters of public medicine. He later floated a plan to privatize the hospital. The proposal went nowhere.
After serving two terms as supervisor -- the limit -- he cast his eyes on the mayor's seat in San Jose. Gonzales moved there and became an executive at Hewlett-Packard, Silicon Valley's iconic company. His time at HP proved to be a valuable networking forum, providing him with contacts he would rely on later.
After living in San Jose for four years, he ran for mayor. He used his ethnicity and his business savvy to win the corporate world's political support. He won the mayor's seat on his first try in 1998. Could the governor's mansion be next?
As the first Latino mayor of San Jose in modern times, he became an icon for that community, whether he wanted the role or not.
But soon after, he dropped a quote many would remember to this day. In response to a question on his status as a Latino leader he said, "I'm not a Hispanic mayor, I'm just a mayor who happens to be Hispanic."
This comment was "like a slap in the face" said Jose Montes de Oca, a community health and housing director who has known Gonzales for approximately 19 years. "It was like he was turning his back" on the Hispanic community. "We were all extremely disappointed."
The outside world didn't seem to notice. Hispanic Business Magazine named him one of the "100 Most Influential Hispanics."
Gonzales reached the pinnacle of his career on Aug. 14, 2000, when he delivered a keynote speech to the Democratic National Convention in San Diego. He represented the party's vision of the new, fiscally prudent and socially aware Democrat, one who would appeal to both mainstream and minority voters. He was a rising Latino star.
It was soon after that the star began to fall.
County Assessor Larry Stone probably knows Gonzales as well as anyone in politics. He served with Gonzales on the Sunnyvale council and has known him for 31 years.
"It is tragic to see what happened to him,'' Stone said. "He was so well-positioned for statewide office."
One month after the convention, rumors spread that Gonzales was having an affair with a woman less than half his age, a staff member in his office. Gonzales denied the accusation but in a Clinton-esque turn, later admitted he did have an affair with then 25-year-old Guisselle Nunez. She resigned three weeks later. Gonzales said he would put the affair behind him and make amends with wife, Alvina.
He didn't.
Gonzales later admitted that the affair with Nunez went on "a few months" after he had promised to cease seeing her. After 22 years of marriage, his wife filed for divorce in early August 2001. Gonzales and Nunez eventually married in September 2004.
Ever popular, Alvina Gonzales delivered votes, especially the women's vote. Some considered her more likeable than the mayor himself.
"The affair caused him to turn inward because he was being so attacked," said Terry Christensen, a political-science professor at San Jose State University. "Although he never has been the most outgoing, warm politician."
Despite the scandal, Gonzales still had Jude Barry.
Barry had known Gonzales since his early days as Sunnyvale mayor and was Gonzales' chief of staff. The two had a loyalty and confidentiality unlike any other of Gonzales' other staff members.
Together, they pushed through a successful ballot measure that promised to bring a Bay Area Rapid Transit extension to San Jose. They delivered low-income housing, after-school homework centers and shifted redevelopment money to neighborhoods.
Barry, however, left Gonzales in December 2000. The two haven't spoken in more five years.
"All they want is honesty," Barry said of San Jose's residents.
Stone said he witnessed a transformation in the mayor's abilities after Barry's departure.
"His turnaround was when he lost Jude Barry," Stone said. "Barry was perfect for Ron in office as far as staff goes. You need solid, trustworthy political people advising you. Losing Jude has been very detrimental to him. ... He is no longer getting the right advice."
Richard Robinson, a political consultant who has watched Gonzales, uses a popular line for describing Gonzales' decline:
"When he lost his father, he lost his soul. When he lost his wife, he lost his heart. When he lost Jude Barry, he lost his mind."
At the start of his first term, Gonzales' approval rating was 70 percent. Today it's at 23 percent.
Still, Gonzales has his defenders.
Dustin DeRollo, Gonzales' former deputy chief of staff, credits Gonzales for investing $100 million in neighborhood housing and tens of millions more in other new projects.
"People will try to sum up his career with" the Norcal scandal, "but they need to look at what he's accomplished since 1999," DeRollo said. "He's a good man."
However, losing Barry and his wife was just the start. Scandals erupted over Gonzales' involvement in a contract awarded to Cisco for work at the new City Hall, a project Gonzales had taken over, bloating the cost. Gonzales was accused of not telling the council all they should know and working deals behind closed doors.
That was all before his biggest headache.
With the Norcal indictment, a mayor who promised good government for the city and hope for its Latino citizens now clings to his wife's arms at news conferences.
His budget director, Joe Guerra, faces a five-year prison sentence and $54,000 fine. According to Barry and others, Guerra was the dominant personality in the office and wanted all issues or concerns to go through him.
Robinson put it bluntly: "Ron trusts Joe. Mainly because Joe gives him a lot of leeway, responsibility and power without questioning it."
Norcal, which has become known as "Garbage-gate," has also lost the mayor the support of his fellow council members. All but two have demanded his resignation.
Ron Gonzales, the defiant mayor, says he won't step down. Some would say he already has.