Hard-Liner on a Hard Sell : Ezell Takes Amnesty Show on the Road, Circus-Style

The best-laid schemes of monkeys and men went momentarily awry when the highest-ranking immigration official in the West traveled to Las Vegas to stand abdomen-to-shoulder with a trained orangutan.

Harold Ezell, the Western regional commissioner for the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service, had big plans this week to publicize the nation’s amnesty for illegal aliens. At a prearranged signal Tuesday, Poppi the orangutan, which entertains gamblers at the Stardust Hotel on the Strip, would “stand up for amnesty” at a suburban shopping center and hand out applications to amazed immigrants.

But when Poppi’s trainer failed to show with his star, the resourceful Ezell already had another ace up his sleeve: an Elvis Presley impersonator.

Determined to persuade suspicious and procrastinating immigrants to come forward for legalization, the INS is latching onto every available gimmick and marketing tactic. As it gears up for the final two months of its yearlong amnesty program, the agency has launched a circus-like public relations campaign that relies heavily on its own officials for success.

Few have warmed to the task like Harold Ezell, super-salesman.

In recent weeks, Ezell joined a Chinese New Year’s parade and rented an airplane to tow an amnesty banner overhead. He has donned a tire-size blue sombrero for his weekly appearances as a member of El Trio Amnistia, a jolly threesome in Western garb who tout the program during functions in Mexican-American neighborhoods. He has shown up for “Tongan Nights” at local INS offices, where officials swaddle themselves in Polynesian costumes and roast pigs to attract Pacific Island-born amnesty applicants.

“So far,” Ezell estimated, “eleven pigs have given their lives for amnesty.”

Ezell’s hard sell has provoked uneasiness and derision on both sides of the ideological spectrum. Immigrant advocates complain that his efforts ring of racism and obscure a rigid ideological stance. Conservative allies fret that Ezell is acting like a liberal, bending over too far to aid illegal aliens.

Stung by the attacks, the commissioner is determined to stump on until the program’s May 4 deadline. “We have a measly $10-million (national promotion) budget, so we have to do it ourselve1932273447an amnesty fiesta in Pomona. “It’s kind of like how the old political campaigners used to do it--seat of the pants.”

Viewed as Crucial

Such dogged salesmanship is not a typical job requirement for bureaucrats. But Ezell and other INS officials view it as a crucial part of their mission to prove that amnesty is a success. The INS’ freewheeling publicity campaign may even produce benefits that last long after amnesty ends, putting a human face on an agency more known for raids and deportations than for public service.

“We’re hoping that there will be a positive spinoff in the public perception of the agency,” said Duke Austin, INS spokesman in Washington.

But immigration experts doubt that the marketing effort will push the final number of amnesty applications much above 1.4 million--nowhere near original INS estimates of 2 million, and as high as 4 million. A separate amnesty for farm workers may legalize another 500,000 people.

“They’ll have to work hard just to get 1.3 million at this point,” said Doris Meissner, a former INS acting commissioner and analyst for the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace. In a major report issued last month, Meissner faulted the agency for failing to adequately publicize the amnesty. The current publicity campaign by agency officials is a bright spot, but comes too late, she said.

INS officials concede that no more than 1.35 million aliens will file by the May 4 deadline. By March 2, at least 1,033,184 had applied. February applications in the Western states were 20% higher than in January, but the increase is not expected to alter the program’s final figures.

Concern for Recovery

Concern over those numbers is what prompted Ezell and other top INS officials to mull over new ways of getting their message out. “We were wondering whether the program was going to recover,” Ezell admitted.

His own response was “Amnesty Month.” The ambitious plan is to use the month of March to persuade mayors in dozens of Western cities to proclaim support for amnesty, join priests and ethnic community leaders in public appeals and throw fiestas, picnics and luaus at INS legalization offices.

A glad-handing former executive of a hot dog franchise firm who prefers life on the road to being anchored behind a desk, Ezell relishes the role of public pitchman. In his five years as regional commissioner, he has convened hundreds of press conferences promoting strict control of borders and deportation of illegal aliens. He has led busloads of Kiwanis Club members and other groups on tours of U.S.-Mexico border areas and shepherded television crews through numerous factory raids.

The constant drumbeat for law enforcement enraged immigrant activists and endeared him to conservatives. But when amnesty filings plummeted last year from a high of 65,000 a week to less than 20,000, Ezell unveiled a new image--that of a federal official willing to embrace aliens as well as deport them.

Signs of change became apparent last Christmas when Ezell speeded a residency card to a 10-year-old Mexican youth who was dying of leukemia. He helped raise more than $2,500 to bury the child after he died. Several days later, Ezell released to the Catholic Church 24 Central American children and teen-agers who had been held in INS detention facilities.

Other Efforts

Ezell has not been alone among immigration officials in reaching out to illegal aliens. The Dallas INS office has been printing amnesty reminders inside tortilla packages. And in south Texas, radio stations are being shipped tapes of “Amnistia,” a Mexican waltz just recorded by INS legalization assistant Art Zuniga.

“It’s much easier for people to listen to a song than some advertisement,” said Zuniga, who worked 20 years as a migrant farm worker. “I thought about putting in a chorus but it seemed a litle dorky.”

“People! Come out of the shadows and make a new beginning, “ he croons in Spanish to the accompaniment of guitars and marimbas. “For the opportunity of amnesty will no longer be available in your lifetime. . . . “

Stakes are highest in California, which has accounted for nearly 60% of the nation’s amnesty applications. “In Los Angeles, we could have stayed in bed and got 300,000, 400,000 applicants,” Ezell said. “But if you’re going to support the program, you have to give it your all.”

Ever aware of the pressure, he makes sure he is always prepared for an instant photo opportunity or chance encounter with an immigrant. The trunk of his plush white Oldsmobile 98 is kept stocked with new videotapes explaining amnesty procedures, Statue of Liberty calendars (“We’ve printed up 100,000 in six languages”) and stacks of glossy photographs of El Trio Amnistia.

For “Amnesty Month,” Ezell boasts of having 44 pages of scheduled events. More than 170,000 flyers will be dispensed--given to kindergarten students, handed out at flea markets and attached to helium-filled balloons at swap meets. He and his top aides have handed out miniature copies of the Statue of Liberty at Korean community dinners and talked for two hours on Chinese-language radio programs.

Member of Trio

“I’ve been walking, talking, eating and sleeping amnesty for the last 19 days,” moaned Ernest Gustafson, the INS district director in Los Angeles. Gustafson, like Ezell, is a member of El Trio Amnistia.

During appearances, Gustafson wears a gaucho-style hat several sizes too small. It was given to him by the trio’s third member, Luis Roberto Gonzales, a Mexican-American disc jockey who goes by the name of El Tigre. Gonzales, who applied for amnesty last year, has, in turn, taken to wearing an INS Border Patrol agent’s cap.

The trio entertained during a recent fiesta at an INS office in Pomona. Flanked by a 24-piece mariachi band and a legalization clerk dressed in a clown costume, the disc jockey introduced Ezell as “everybody’s friend from immigration.”

Crowds are Ezell’s magnets. In elevators, at fairgrounds, in drab government waiting rooms, Ezell eagerly seeks out illegal aliens the way politicians buttonhole voters. Those who fail to recognize Ezell usually accept his greetings and head-tousling with confused smiles. They wait until he leaves, as one Pomona couple did, before asking: “Who was the gringo?”

But five years of press conferences have paid off. Most immigrants seem to know the bluff, florid-faced government man. The spectacle of an INS commissioner scribbling his name for illegal aliens might unnerve veteran critics of the agency, but when the trio stepped forward in their ill-fitting Western gear at the Pomona fiesta, they were besieged by immigrants jockeying for signatures.

“He has an honest face,” reasoned applicant Cristobal Gil.

Many immigrant advocates detect cynicism at the root of Ezell’s efforts, convinced that he will return to his rigid law enforcement posture when the program ends. Peter Schey, an attorney who represents illegal aliens in public-interest cases, expects Ezell’s pitching to produce more snickers than amnesty filings.

Credibility Questioned

“His credibility is so low in the immigrant community, he couldn’t give away free automobiles,” Schey said.

Some conservatives who once viewed Ezell as a genuine hero for his attempts to stem the flow of illegal migration now feel betrayed by him. Roger Conner, executive director of the Federation for American Immigration Reform, which lobbys for tough border controls, estimates that a fourth of his members criticize Ezell for pushing hard for amnesty.

“It’s far too much like the old circus barkers and medicine shows,” said Helen Graham, president of Californians for Population Control, a small group that supports immigration limitations.

To Ezell, the complaints from both poles is a sign that he is taking the right path. He points to recent meetings with some former enemies who have appeared to declare temporary truces with the INS--at least until amnesty ends. “At least they can’t say we’re not busting our fannies,” he said.

Last week, three priests and an organizer from the United Neighborhoods Organization, an activist group that has often confronted Ezell, sat around a table with INS officials. They had a request. Would Ezell pitch amnesty in church Masses throughout the city every Sunday until the May 4 deadline?

Despite grueling weekly 20-hour-a-day schedules lined up for the next two months, Ezell did not hesitate to answer. “We’ll be there,” he told the group.

Before the activists departed, the INS commissioner seized the moment to pitch yet again. He mentioned a little request of his own. “Do you have pictures of El Trio Amnistia? You don’t?”