Meet attorney Gregg Ramos, the Scene's 2008 Nashvillian of the Year

On Jan. 22, Nashvillians will go to the polls to settle—we hope—one of the most divisive issues to face the city in its recent history. That issue is the notorious "English Only" charter amendment, which would make English the city's official language for municipal services. Intended, say its proponents, to trim government and force the city's swelling immigrant population to assimilate faster—like, now—its effect on Nashville's civic workings would be largely symbolic. Critics point out, rightly, that if passed it would abolish bilingual services that Metro does not actually offer.

But other English Only opponents say its actual effects are more insidious. Civic boosters say the amendment sends an unmistakable message to overseas tourists, foreign investors and lucrative service-industry conventions: Go away. Still others argue that at the time Nashville needs money most, the special election will suck away an estimated half-million dollars. The sharpest criticism has come from the people the amendment targets: spokesmen for Nashville's many immigrant communities, a steady supply of cheap, uncomplaining labor, who take the suggestion that they're lazy ingrates as a slap in the face.

One, just one, of the many people fighting English Only is Gregg Ramos. An attorney with the firm of North, Pursell, Ramos & Jameson, with an office that overlooks both the heart of downtown Nashville and the city across the river, Ramos has used his nimble legal mind, his formidable knowledge of the law, and his experience as a second-generation American to attack the proposal from every angle. On the eve of this city-defining election, the Scene is proud to recognize Gregg Ramos as its 2008 Nashvillian of the Year.

Now here's the surprise: That's not why Ramos gets the honor. Not entirely, anyway. If fighting English Only were all it took to be Nashvillian of the Year, we'd quickly (and gladly) use up the city's reserves of trophies, plaques and engraving. The coalition gathering against the amendment can be said to encompass three basic groups: those with the most, those with the least, and those in the middle. Their ranks include university presidents and college custodians; pastors of every denomination and their parishioners; the mighty Chamber of Commerce and little-funded neighborhood organizations. Not for nothing is their broad movement affiliated under the name Nashville for All of Us.

Nor does Ramos get the nod because he's the single spokesperson for a monolithic bloc—"the face of Hispanic Nashville," or some such nonsense. Latinos make up a large segment of Nashville's population, to be sure, and growing every year. But within that "community" are factions and fractures along countless lines. Even on an issue as galvanizing as English Only, there has been disagreement among Hispanic Nashvillians over how best to oppose it, according to Nashville Hispanic Chamber of Commerce President Yuri Cunza—who says he himself has respectfully butted heads with Ramos over tactical matters.

Indeed, what makes Ramos our Nashvillian of the Year—and ironically something of a representative, however reluctantly—is what he brings to the city as an individual. The son of a Mexican immigrant, Ramos works tirelessly to make Nashville a better place for people of all races and backgrounds—whether through active participation in nonprofits as wide-ranging as United Way and the Tennessee Justice Center, or as recent board president of Catholic Charities, the humanitarian organization that helps everyone from senior citizens to immigrant newcomers, regardless of nationality.

His story makes him doubly compelling, as a man and as one single, solitary, specific member of a group frequently demonized en masse. Gregg Ramos, as you will find, is just your average baseball-loving, country-music-playing fluent English speaker—more fluent, in fact, than some English Only proponents we could name. He has woven himself into the American tapestry, so much so that Ramos, whose father initially spoke no English, has raised two college-educated children who speak little Spanish—a fact he admits with regret.

"He would shudder to hear this, but he's blazed trails for Hispanic people in Nashville," says District 6 council member Mike Jameson, Ramos' law partner and an ally in the fight against English Only. "He pulled up stakes and came here in a lowrider with chain for a steering wheel and successfully entered the practice of law in Nashville. That's not something you would have predicted in 1985."

When notified by the Scene, Gregg Ramos' response was typical. His first inclination was to say he didn't deserve the honor. His second was to spell out, in no uncertain terms, how much he detests the Scene's weekly online "Ask a Mexican" column, which he believes only reinforces the same stereotypes and prejudices as English Only. His responses told us pretty much what we'd already heard: that he's self-effacing, he has strong opinions, and he doesn't blow smoke.

"I was really not trying to feign humility," says Ramos, 53, who comes across as disarmingly soft-spoken and Eagle Scout earnest, almost to a fault. "It's just that this opposition to English Only represents the entire coalition, and it's really bigger than one individual. And the last thing I want to do is put the face of one individual on it."