The nurses' unions have showed their political might recently, with
no single example quite as striking as the attack on Republican-hopeful
Meg Whitman, who ran and lost the largest self-funded candidacy in
American history, costing her $145 million.
At the height of California's recent gubernatorial race, an ad campaign
aired on Spanish-language television turned the spotlight on Whitman's
aggrieved, undocumented, Mexican-born housekeeper, Nicandra Diaz
Santillan. Diaz was fired abruptly after almost ten years of working for
Whitman. In September she sought help from a friend who knew a member of
the powerful California Nurses Association (CNA) in Oakland. The union
put Diaz in contact with two lawyers, Marc Van Der Hout, a longstanding
immigration attorney in San Francisco, and a celebrity feminist
attorney, Gloria Allred, a workplace rights litigator. They arranged for
Diaz to tell her story to the world in a live webcast news conference.
Rose Ann DeMoro, executive director of the CNA, neither confirmed nor
denied her organization's role in Diaz's case, preferring to give no
comment.
Whitman resented the campaign, alleging that Diaz was used by unions who
backed her opponent Jerry Brown (D) to engage in "the politics of
personal destruction." The appearance of CNA spokesman Chuck Idelson at
Diaz's very public news conference. Idelson refused to comment on the
issue.
During the campaign, the CNA sent 1,500 nurses to march outside the
Atherton mansion where Diaz had worked.
Despite Diaz's usefulness to the union, sources familiar with the matter
say that the housekeeper and mother of three was emotionally and
financially devastated when Whitman suddenly fired her in 2009. Diaz
decided to make her story public as she watched Whitman's campaign, in
which the politician praised herself as "tough as nails" on illegal
immigration.
There were concerns about her immigration status after Diaz decided to
go public with her story, and union insiders carefully vetted,
interviewed, and counseled her for days about the possible implications
of going public as an undocumented worker. But "she really wanted to do
it," said one source. "She was like steel."
Diaz maintains that Whitman always knew she was undocumented, and that
Whitman had even been contacted by government officials about problems
with Diaz's Social Security number. Whitman said that she hired Diaz
through an agency and always believed that she was a legal resident,
only choosing to fire her upon discovery of her illegal status.
Pollsters said that Diaz's story was one key factor that derailed
Whitman's drive. During Diaz's televised testimony, she tearfully said
that she was treated "like garbage" and was unexpectedly and coldly
fired after nine years of work with a voice mail message from Whitman
saying, "You don't know me, and I don't know you."
While Whitman has admitted no guilt, she and her husband, Dr. Griffith
Harsh, agreed to pay Diaz's claim for unpaid back wages: $5,500.
Whitman and others conservatives have called for her deportation.
However, Van Der Hout said that Diaz is pursuing an application to
become a permanent legal resident. Diaz "is not in hiding ... and she is
not fearing arrest," he said. "She has a compelling case because of her
long history in the United States and her family ties ... and I am
optimistic that she will eventually obtain lawful status."
National Nurses United published an open letter from DeMoro to Diaz
earlier this month, publicly thanking her for "your courage in taking a
difficult stand that undoubtedly changed history."