Univision executives rarely speak to the press, and if they do so without permission they run the risk of getting hit with a five-figure fine -- if not a pink slip -- from Univision's reclusive chairman, Jerry Perenchio, who refuses to speak with reporters, according to a report in the Los Angeles Examiner. (Intriguingly, Univision, the No. 1 Spanish language television player, wants to merge with the No. 1 Spanish language radio player, yet neither company is controlled by Hispanics. This, coming on the heels of a recent poll conducted by Opiniones Latinas that discovered 87 percent of Hispanics in America are opposed to having Spanish-language media owned by non-Hispanics.)

Perenchio has dealt with creative talent his entire career, first as a Hollywood talent agent (Marlon Brando), then boxing promoter (Ali vs. Frazier), and movie producer ("Driving Miss Daisy"). In 1992 Perenchio purchased five Univision stations for $550 million and began assembling a Spanish-language media empire. Perenchio, an Italian-American, doesn't speak Spanish, but Univision has made him a billionaire two times over and catapulted him into the ranks of America's 100 wealthiest people. He lives in a 20,000-square-foot Bel-Air mansion and plays golf on his own private course overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

A Republican, Perenchio has shared a lot of that wealth with politicians and political causes. Between 1994 and 1996 he gave $400,000 to California Gov. Pete Wilson. The generosity raised eyebrows: During and after that period Wilson campaigned hard for the passage of Proposition 187, which tried to end public schooling for the children of illegal immigrants. Prop 187 was seen by most as anti-Mexican immigration, and for Perenchio to support it was considered a strange stance for the head of a Spanish-language network, the largest bulk of whose viewers have emigrated from Mexico.

More recently Perenchio flip-flopped and wrote a check for $1.5 million to support an effort to defeat California's Proposition 227, which would have abolished the state's public bilingual education system. "That was a make-up for being on the wrong side of Prop 187," says one veteran Hispanic activist. But cynics suggest Perenchio's largesse stemmed from a profit motive; his all-Spanish Univision television stations would attract more viewers if more Hispanic immigrants continued to speak Spanish.

Despite the fact that a strong majority of Hispanics vote Democratic, "There's no question that Univision is looked upon as Republican-leaning," says one political consultant who requested anonymity. "It's not seen as fair and balanced." Specifically, there have been complaints in Hispanic political circles over Univision's coverage of the Estrada nomination. "It's been biased," says one Democratic source on the Hill. "They always lead with 'hailing from Honduras,' and portraying him as the all-American story. Then there's a quick clip at the end from an opponent after a longer clip from an Estrada proponent." The Congressional Hispanic Caucus, made up of Democrats, adamantly opposed Estrada.

A Univision spokeswoman denies the charge of bias, saying the company would never use its news coverage for political purposes. Nonetheless, the network's influence is pronounced -- in major markets such as New York, Los Angeles and Chicago, Univision's nightly newscast often draws more viewers than its competitors on ABC, CBS, NBC, and Fox.

Some Univision observers see a marked similarity to Clear Channel, whose founder and CEO, Lowry Mays, is a staunch Republican, a good friend of George Bush Sr., and close to Bush's son, the president. "I see him all the time," Mays told a reporter during the 2000 presidential campaign. "His father's a friend of mine." Mays and the company have showered the party with contributions (while essentially stiffing Democrats).

Meanwhile, Texas investment banker Tom Hicks sits on the Clear Channel board. In 1998 Tom Hicks bought the Texas Rangers from a group that included President Bush; Bush pocketed $15 million off his initial investment of $605,000, most of which was borrowed.

Clear Channel is also the corporate home of Bush booster Rush Limbaugh, who spoke to company managers during a Clear Channel conference on the eve of the 2000 presidential election. According to one person who attended, Mays also addressed assembled executives about the campaign, telling them a Bush administration would be good for the radio industry and good for America.

Those remarks mirrored similar ones Hicks made during a conference call among Clear Channel's senior radio executives during the 2000 campaign. He announced that the company was going to support Bush, that everyone was encouraged to make donations, and that the legal department would be in contact with donors in order to maintain a proper roster. "Some people took out their checkbooks, but lots of people felt it was staged like a shakedown," says one knowledgeable source who requested anonymity. "To be fair, Hicks told everyone they were free to vote for whoever they wanted. But some senior people felt there was an implied pressure there, especially with the mention of the law department maintaining a roster of donors."

Clear Channel made news recently when its syndicated talk show host Glenn Beck began sponsoring "Rallies for America." The tightly choreographed events attracted tens of thousands of people, coming on the cusp of the war as the White House was struggling to garner wider support for its actions against Iraq. Critics complained that media companies with news department shouldn't be taking advocacy positions. Clear Channel insisted the events were simply pro-troops rallies, grass-roots events undertaken independently by local stations that carried Beck's program. Either way, at a time when antiwar rallies were dominating the news, Clear Channel played a key role in giving war supporters a voice by providing a turnkey service; staging the events, acquiring any necessary permits, taking care of security, assembling speakers, and of course relentlessly promoting the events on Clear Channel radio stations.

At the same time Clear Channel was promoting rallies for the war, Rep. Janice Schakowsky, D-Ill., claimed company-owned stations barred ads she wanted to purchase opposing the war in the Iraq, while at the same time limiting news coverage of war protests. A Clear Channel spokesperson did not respond to calls for comment.

Other Clear Channel players were less subtle. A company jock in Denver labeled Democratic presidential candidate Howard Dean a traitor for his antiwar stance, suggesting the Vermont governor should be shot. Musicians got the political message Clear Channel was sending. During a speech at the National Press Club last week, actor and outspoken antiwar activist Tim Robbins told reporters, "A famous middle-aged rock-and-roller called me last week to thank me for speaking out against the war, only to go on to tell me that he could not speak himself because he fears repercussions from Clear Channel. 'They promote our concert appearances,' he said. 'They own most of the stations that play our music. I can't come out against this war.'"

Recent Stories