Juan Ramos, former Philly Council member and Latino community leader, dies at 71

Juan Ramos, a former City Council member remembered as a “vanguard of what the civil rights movement was for the Latino community in Philadelphia,” died on Saturday.

Ramos, whose family migrated to Philadelphia from Puerto Rico in 1953, died at the age of 71 after a battle with Alzheimer’s disease, according to his family.

A proud Puerto Rican, Ramos dedicated his life to serving and uplifting marginalized communities across Philadelphia, and particularly Latino communities. In high school, he joined the Young Lords, an organization that advocated for Puerto Rican self-determination, as well as defending and providing for the community. He went on to become involved with numerous other community organizations, such as the Puerto Rican Alliance and the Laborers’ Union Local 332, and also served one term in City Council from 2004 to 2008.

No matter what he was doing with his career, Ramos’ North Star was unfailingly to help people and make their lives better.

“He saw his role, whether it was politics [or] being a union organizer or anything else, as an extension of helping people,” said Vincent Thompson, who served as Ramos’ chief of staff in the latter years of his term. “It wasn’t about superstardom for him. It was about, how do I help people have a better life?”

Ramos was 2 years old when his parents migrated to Philadelphia in 1953, coming “from basically rural poverty in Puerto Rico to urban poverty in Philadelphia,” said his younger brother, Pedro Ramos.

His family depended on social programs that served the Puerto Rican community to get by, such as Casa del Carmen. Being the oldest of five, Juan Ramos benefited from those programs the most.

His upbringing was rooted in Puerto Rican culture and identity, but it was when Ramos got to high school and connected with other Puerto Rican youth that he saw the parallels between their families’ experiences. That’s when he cofounded the Young Lords Philadelphia chapter, an organization that was founded in Chicago in the ‘60s.

“They were part of …young people now going to school and starting to become self-aware of the circumstances of the Puerto Rican community in Philadelphia, the disregard that existed,” Pedro Ramos said. “The Young Lords was born with this notion of the community defending and providing for itself. And from this group of teenagers in that era grew a Boomer generation of Puerto Rican leaders in Philadelphia.”

Juan’s parents were so concerned for his safety during his time with the Young Lords that his father used to sometimes sit outside the group’s headquarters, worried it would get firebombed (which it once was). But Ramos was too dedicated to the cause to leave the organization.

“Those were remarkable times,” Pedro Ramos said. “You hear what these young people were talking about, and how they saw the circumstances around us as things they could gain control of. And I saw that people were attracted to my brother as a leader.”

Documentary footage from his Young Lords era shows Juan Ramos speaking out against police brutality against people of color and Puerto Ricans, and the lack of support for communities in the midst of gang wars. Ramos also demonstrated against blight and housing issues, and took part in a squatters’ movement that fixed up abandoned houses in the city.

Juan ended up becoming more involved with voting issues under the mentorship of civil rights leader Muhammad Kenyatta, Pedro Ramos said. He cofounded the Puerto Rican Alliance, an organization that advocated to expand voter registration and access in Latino communities and that promoted Latino candidates.

“When you talk about the ‘70s and early ‘80s, it was just amazing people who were the vanguard of what the civil rights movement was for the Latino community in Philadelphia,” said Will Gonzalez, executive director of Ceiba.

Thompson was shocked when he received a call from Ramos asking him to serve as his chief of staff during the last 18 months of his term. In his 30s at the time, Thompson had volunteered on Ramos’ campaign, but had little political experience.

“He saw something in me back then that I didn’t see in me,” said Thompson, who is now the communications director for Councilmember Kenyatta Johnson. “I’m an African American kid from North Philly in Germantown, and he gave me an opportunity to be a chief of staff for an at-large member at a young age, and I will always be thankful for Juan.”

To Thompson, the chance that Ramos took on him is emblematic of his relentless dedication to helping people in any way he could — whether it was securing a $1.5 billion construction grant for Taller Puertorriqueño’s new building, or simply helping someone secure baby formula and diapers. And the fact that he was only the second Latino elected official in Philadelphia was significant.

“His role as our community having a voice in City Hall was amazing,” said Carmen Febo, former executive director of Taller Puertorriqueño. “If there was some kind of an administrative concern, I would reach out to him to get his guidance, where to go and how to talk to people, and he facilitated those processes. I’m sure he did that for many other people. That space, that political voice that he represented …was part of the advantage of having him there.”

The first time Gonzalez spoke to Ramos in the ‘90s, when Gonzalez — a young law student at the time — was creating a police advisory commission for the city. He needed to find people to sit on the commission, and Ramos’ looming legacy of activism in the two decades prior made him the perfect fit.

So Gonzalez went to Ramos’ house and sat on his front steps until he got home. When Gonzalez introduced himself and why he was there, Ramos promptly invited him inside to talk, and ultimately joined the commission.

Ramos wasn’t only known for his activism and community services — he also threw a great party.

During his time in City Hall, Ramos organized dominoes tournaments at Love Park, nodding to Latino culture and creating a space for people of all backgrounds to come together and enjoy each other’s company.

And in the late ‘90s and early 2000′s, Ramos would host boxing matches and serve scrumptious Puerto Rican food on the side.

“It was the warmest crowd, often arriving at his house at 9 or 10 o’clock at night,” his brother, Pedro,described. “You’d have folks from the corner and folks from City Hall, and just the most diverse crowd you’d ever see coming together to eat, watch the fights, and share in those moments.”

“Him and his wife … are the types of folks that, whether friends or strangers would knock on the door any time of day or night, they would help,” Pedro added. “That’s how they lived.”