Proposal to Import Workers Stirs Fears

Immigration Former braceros worry that plan might result in pay abuses and say it would fuel more moves to U.S.

By Minerva Canto

The Orange County Register

March 12, 2001

From the strawberry fields of Irvine to the power-filled halls of Washington, D.C., a proposed plan to import workers from Mexico is being praised as a possible cure for illegal immigration from south of the border.

``An effective guest-worker program can help the American economy and dramatically decrease illegal immigration and all the evils that accompany it,'' reads a statement by Republican Sen. Phil Gramm of Texas.

Such talk dredges up disturbing memories for the men who took advantage of the largest U.S.-Mexico guest-worker program in history. Memories of decades spent toiling for little in return. And fears that their past will become someone else's future.

The braceros were guest workers who came to the United States more than 50 years ago to fill a labor shortage by working in farms and helping maintain some of the nation's railroads.

The program, in place for 22 years, ended in 1964 amid a cloud of allegations that the braceros, or strong arms, were little more than indentured servants who labored in unsafe working conditions.

Now, a new program is taking shape.

President George W. Bush has endorsed a high-powered binat ional commission to study a more orderly way for Mexicans to come to the United States.

South of the border, new President Vicente Fox wants some form of amnesty for the more than 3.1 million Mexicans estimated to be in the United States illegally.

Legislation for a new program has not yet been drafted, but high-level discussions between lawmakers in both countries are expected to result in a proposal.

Braceros fret that a new program won't pay enough or offer adequate worker protections. Some of them think it will fuel more immigration.

``Everyone knows that working in the fields is hard work,'' said Jose Pedro Gamez, 71, a La Habra resident who picked everything from lemons to cotton in Arizona, California and other states from 1949 to the early 1960s. ``Many things would need to be different.''

Gamez is one of thousands of braceros still mired in a struggle to reclaim money they allege was deducted from their paychecks and never given to them.

The years-long battle for that money is but one legacy of what is now seen as a deeply flawed program. Immigrant advocates are working hard to avoid replicating those flaws in the rush to draft legislation for a new program to fill labor needs in agriculture and other industries.

``I don't think the Mexican people should suffer,'' said Elizabeth Gamez, who lives with her grandfather, ``because of what the American and Mexican government did back then.''

A PROGRAM DESIGNED TO FILL LABOR SHORTAGE

The bracero program was a marriage between the need for Mexicans to find better-paying jobs and the U.S. need to fill a labor shortage during and after World War II.

In those days, U.S.-bound trains from inner Mexican states were filled with hundreds of workers hoping for a bracero contract. It's estimated that 4.6 million contracts for work were granted under a U.S.-Mexican treaty authorizing the program that began in 1942.

Most men who heeded the call had little education. They were eager to work a job, any job, no matter how backbreaking the labor.

Santa Ana resident Juan Mendoza, who picked lettuce, beets and other California crops between 1957 and 1962, thinks lawmakers drafting the new program should place a priority on paying workers good wages.

``The truth is that the money was not enough for a family to live on. I mean, it went a long way in Mexico, but it just wasn't enough,'' said Mendoza, 62, who works in a sewing factory. ``But then again, I didn't have schooling, and the only way I could have had something better is if I had schooling.''

Gamez also had little education when, at 19, he heard about the program. He recalled crossing the border to find an employer where he could prove his worth as a worker so he could be invited to join as a bracero.

``We would tell each other, `Hurry up! Hurry up! Faster!' because we knew only the fastest workers would be picked,'' Gamez recalled.

For more than 10 years, Gamez traveled north from his home near the U.S.-Mexico border in Mexicali to labor in the hot sun, harvesting everything from cotton to melons. He thought his pay of 50 cents an hour was enough, given that a pair of Levi's cost about $2.50 at the time.

``I was lucky I was hardy back then. I didn't develop any health problems, although many fainted from the heat and work,'' Gamez said.

MANY MEXICAN workers left with nothing

Like Gamez, many other braceros and their families eventually settled permanently in the United States, which rankles critics of guest-worker programs.

Fullerton resident Isidro Lopez believes a guest- worker program would only fuel more immigration from Mexico. ``I think it's a bad idea,'' said Lopez, who picked cabbage, onions and other crops in Washington, Texas, and California after leaving Mexico in 1955. ``For one thing, how would they ensure workers' rights were protected? But you know, how is that going to help stop people from coming here illegally? The more you let them in, the more they come.''

The bracero program was supposed to discourage Mexicans from staying in the United States permanently. A clause in a work contract stated: ``The worker agrees that 10 percent of his wages may be deducted ... to be refunded to him on his return.''

That 10 percent is the money bracero workers and their families say they never received.

San Juan Capistrano resident Rosalina Plancarte thinks that money would help to care for her father, 87, a bracero for nearly 20 years. Plancarte's father returned to live in Mexico after his bracero days, but his migratory treks inspired her to immigrate to Orange County in 1986. Plancarte was just a child when the bracero program was in full swing, but she remembers well her father's long absences from their Michoacan home.

``We were very poor. We had to make our furniture out of crates. A crate would serve as a table, a set of crates would serve as a bed,'' said Plancarte, a San Juan Capistrano resident who earns a living cleaning homes. ``So when he came back, I asked him `Daddy, how come you didn't take us with you to live there?' ''

Many braceros have died. Most of the surviving workers have no pension and no retirement funds. All Gamez has to show for his bracero years is a laminated card with a somber black and white photo of himself at age 29 titled ``Alien Laborer's Identification Card.''

He believes getting back the money he earned is a long shot. Thinking of all the years he spent in the fields, his lower lip trembles as he says, ``I hope something comes of it.''