Almost 40 years ago, from September 1967 through September 1969, I was a doctoral candidate
in Agricultural Economics at Michigan State University. As a Chicano from California, I missed my family and relationships with raza. In 1969 I decided to step out of the academic groove and enlisted as a volunteer with Michigan Educational Opportunity Program, a derivative of the federally-funded programs of the Office of Educational Opportunity. My "mentor" and supervisor was Ubaldo Patino.

The "notes" which follow are from my daily log. They record the actual names and places of my job. I leave this information intact, primarily because some of the people — like Mr. Patino — deserve to be remembered for their dedication and service to migrant workers in Michigan.

I was 28 years old at the time. I had no specific vision or plans to become an "expert" on farmworkers. But this "little" experience shaped my destiny. I never discarded these notes. They traveled with me all over the world (literally) and to the University of California, Davis where I began my academic career. And they came with me to my alma mater, MSU. The fact of the matter is that I was cleaning my files at the Julian Samora Research Institute when my student assistant, Matthew Martinez, put these notes aside. He left them for me to see.

What luck! Had I merely discarded all in my files, these notes of history would have joined the piles of the forgotten past. As good fortune would have it, Danny Layne also joined our staff at JSRI. His presence and knowledge of the area introduced an important component for this paper. Danny not only knew the vicinity of the labor camps, he knew the history of the area and some of the local population in the area. In short order, our conversations led to the idea of a co-authored production, specifically, my notes from 1969 with Danny’s updates and insights of changes in places and time.

I dedicate these notes to my mentor, Ubaldo Patino, a fine man who served countless farmworkers. I also take pride in recognizing Julian Samora, who taught me to value the legacies of our people — la raza. I honor my father, Refugio Rochín, who was a farmworker from Sinaloa, Mexico, between 1924-1928 and always taught me — by his example — that farmworkers have the pride, intelligence, and determination needed to make a better life for their children.

The camp has 15, 20’x15" (or so) cabanas situated in a circular fashion. Each cabana has lighting with refrigerator, gas stove with two burners, and beds. The mattresses are all well-used and apparently dirty. None of the houses were well-cleaned before occupancy. Grease was on most panelings behind the stoves. A kitchen table and two benches provide the rest of the furnishings.

The camp grounds have some grass. There are clotheslines for family use and the water facilities are nearby. There are hoses, which serve as fire extinguishers, on both ends of camp. There is plenty of yard for recreation, which we will attempt to introduce.

After (the) informal introductions, we drove into Charlotte, 10 miles west of Eaton Rapids on M-50 to get some food stamps for the families in the camp.

Those going with us were the following:
1. Ramona Sanchez, with three dependents
2. Flora Martinez, with four dependents
3. Reyna Zeferino, with four dependents
4. Juan Guerrero, with 10 dependents
5. Arturo Aguilar, with six dependents
6. Ramon Guerrero, with six dependents
7. Antonio Aguilar, with four dependents
8. Jesus Gonzalez, with three dependents
9. Luis Torres, with six dependents

We were attended to by Mrs. Kade. She was very cooperative and took every family we presented with little questioning regarding last work and sources of income. She accepted the number of dependents without asking for birth certificates. Susie and I invited her to visit the camp with us and she was very willing to accompany us later.

Upon returning to camp we met a new arrival, Rafael Mendoza, with (his) wife and son. Since the banks were closed, we promised to take them in on Monday to purchase food stamps.

We should note that — out of the group we took for food stamps — only three could speak passable English. Two people had to sign with an "X."

We will try to teach them to spell their names.

6/29 Suzie and I drove to the camp Sunday noon to see if there were any more arrivals to take for food stamps; we soon found out there were none, except Mr. Mendoza.

The crew leader, organizer, and instructor, Frank Gonzalez, was at the camp with his wife and three or four children. Not knowing exactly who he was, I asked if he was Mr. Gonzalez and quickly explained that we were working with Mr. Patino. I’ll have to admit that our first encounter was uncertain for both of us. Mr. Gonzalez immediately stated that he knew our function and told us that we would have to be out of the camp by 8:00 every night.

Next, he asked if I was with Ruben Alfaro, a local unionizer. I assured him that I did not know the man and had no intentions of unionizing the workers. Mr. Gonzalez eventually calmed down and we sat around talking about agriculture with the workers there.

One very interesting thing discussed was "mechanization." Gonzalez felt that in a year or so, cucumbers (pickles) would be nearly 100% mechanized. Today, about one family (four people) can handle 10 acres of cucumbers at prime picking-time; machines could replace 250 pickers. Heifetz has something like 2,000 acres to pick and only needs farmworkers for 600 acres. The advent of mechanization in cucumbers is really something which promises to leave only a few jobs for those that can handle the machinery and their maintenance.

Training will be needed.

6/30 I drove out alone to the camp to take Mr. Mendoza and his wife to get food stamps in Charlotte. I took a "frisbee" — or flying saucer —and left the men playing with the thing (Frank Gonzalez mentioned that he would buy a swing set for the children if we could find someone to install a heavy-duty one). The people want recreation. Their only main source of fun is driving around Eaton Rapids.

In my discussion with the Mendozas, I found out that they joined the migrant stream three years ago. They learned of the pickle harvesting from a friend, who previously worked in Michigan fields. The situation in "the valley" of Texas seemed to force them to Michigan. A hurricane of a couple years back — Beulah — left them and others worse-off than ever.

In a way, the Mendozas looked forward to working in Michigan. They like the countryside and find the people who visit the camps to provide social services very friendly and helpful. Mrs. Mendoza said that there was no social welfare service of this kind in her part of Texas. Both were a bit apprehensive about the weather, but didn’t show any reluctance to express a willingness to find work here and settle. They will wait, though, at least a couple years until their son graduates from high school. Their aspirations for their children’s education is very great.

7/1 Suzie and I drove directly to the Eaton Rapids Community Hospital to inform them of our work, the presence of migrants in the area, and to ask them of their services. We met with Mrs. Steven who was very attentive and interested in our work. She is the Director of the business office and in charge of the paperwork we would have to deal with for emergency cases. She worked in the hospital the previous year and handled some medical cases of migrants. She made it clear that the hospital handled "emergency" cases, not stomach-aches, headaches, minor aches, and pains.

She said that the year before many of the migrant workers came into the hospital with their minor problems when they should have gone to the medical clinic. All in all, the hospital is primarily ready to handle emergency cases. Suzie and I left our names and telephone numbers, and Mr. Patino’s as well, with Mrs. Stevens so she could contact us if needed.

We met with Mrs. Fuller of the medical clinic and found her as receptive as Mrs. Stevens. The clinic is across the street from the hospital and has five doctors, each of whom shares the work in the hospital. We left the same type information with Mrs. Fuller as we did in the hospital.

Both the hospital and clinic require a form to be filled out for any treatment extended to a migrant. The forms are in the Social Services office in Charlotte and are a must for settling the problem of who pays. Last year, Frank Gonzalez, the contractor from Heifetz, was left with some bills because the forms were not filled out and signed by the migrant. Suzie and I told Steven and Fuller that we would handle the forms.

After these visits we went back to the camp.

Nearly all migrants were hoeing weeds in the field except for the Guerreros. Mrs. Gonzalez was also in the camp registering children, ages 1-13, for a summer school program to be held at the Union Street School under the guidance of Mrs. Dickinson. The program will bus children to school, feed them a light meal and provide a late snack, and give some schooling. Mrs. Gonzalez is visiting migrant camps in the vicinity including some run by her husband. She is, by the way, a Mexican from Guanajuato, Mexico, attractive, and polished.

Everything was fine in the camp as far as health went. We searched for the camp license, but couldn’t find it any place. This leads us to suspect the camp isn’t licensed — we’ll have to find this out later.

Suzie and I left a horseshoe game, primarily for entertainment, in camp for the males. We drove into Eaton Rapids and visited with the city clerk, Mr. Rule. He directed us to the Chamber of Commerce where we received a list of service organizations and members of the commerce. The Chamber is only open on Tuesday and Thursday from 9-noon. The Chamber President is a dentist — Dr. Zeller. His office is conveniently located next to the Chamber.

Back to Lansing.

7/2 Suzie Holtz and I met with Mr. Patino in Cristo Rey Community Center. At noon we drove out to a small camp just north of Potterville on Davis Highway, just off of M-100. The camp is owned by Mr. Macleod who lives just up the dirt road. There are five houses, but only two are occupied. There is the Salas family with eight people living in the house. Next door lives Domingo Salas’ daughter and her husband, with another three or four inside.

The camp is licensed, apparently clean, and fairly-well furnished. But it’s difficult at this time to make any judgements. Mr. Salas and his son-in-law were working in the fields, so we spoke with the ladies. We arranged to pick them up on Monday, July 7, to purchase food stamps in Charlotte.

This evening we met with several doctors and nurses of the Lansing community in Dr. Hewitts’ home. The meeting was the first of a project to engage doctors in servicing migrants in their camps. Basically the set-up is still informal and runs as follows: the social workers — including me — will have two major functions to perform.

One is to find out the health records of families in the camps. We will make little index cards recording sicknesses, injections, operations, visits to the doctor, complaints, etc. We will, secondly, relay this information to doctors, who will team up with the social workers and nurses and visit the camps when able. At present, it appears that the doctors have not committed themselves whole-heartedly, and it will take some effort on our part to recruit them into visiting the camps.

The few nurses that attended the meetings appeared very enthusiastic. I think that as a first step, we will try to introduce the nurses to the camps, take them around so that their expert eyes can sense what’s wrong. Next we will influence them to encourage the doctors’ participation.

In the future, it would be highly advisable to engage as many people of the medical profession to make camp visits. To paraphrase Mr. Patino — "it’s not so much that the people need actual medical attention, but they need some attention." The people are greatly honored and humbled by the appearance of doctors and just their presence cures the mental ailments of many migrants. These migrants need to feel welcome in the community and a good place to start is with the well respected medical profession.

7/5 This Saturday was sure a wonderful experience. I went to the camp to visit and to primarily teach the men how to play horseshoes. I also took with me some clothing that neighbors had given me. I found that a good tactic is to tell the men that there are some things in the car for the ladies and themselves — to go see if they could use any of the clothing. The people — about 10 of them — went to the car and, without quarreling, went through the clothing and divided it all up. This used clothing can at least serve as work clothes. But I noticed that the women have few dresses. A recommended project for large camps would be sewing lessons on simple tent-type dresses. I’m sure the ladies would participate and benefit from the dresses made.

The men threw horseshoes for a few hours and loved the game. One guy even asked me to pick him up another game for his kids. During the game, I spoke mostly with Luis Torres and a couple new arrivals — Mr. Reyes and Mr. Tafolla.

They explained to me that people were working in the Brownsville area for $2 a day, that work conditions were very poor, and any work was hard to come by. They would work occasionally, but they gave me the impression that since there were few jobs, it seemed fruitless to seek work in Texas. Thus, they anxiously awaited their trip to Michigan.

7/7 The Mexican-American migrant has one peculiar attitude — he acts and thinks in terms of two types — for himself; he assumes a dual personality. At times, the migrant takes on the character of being a pure American or U.S. citizen. This is legally correct because most migrants were born in the U.S.

In this U.S.-type character, he mixes conversation with English and talks about this country. This I noted, in particular, when we discussed discrimination. At other times, especially when an Anglo is present, the migrant tends to put on a pure Mexican front. The language reverts to his best Spanish with little use of "pocho" or "Spanglish," as Anglos refer to the language. He may pretend not to understand English.

But oftentimes there is imbalance and dissonance, or conflict, in the role the migrant has to take on. To solve such conflict he relies on silence. Mannerisms are shy and humble. The "outsider" — whether Anglo or Mexican — has to clarify by his actions which attitude the migrant will presume. Once the "outsiders" appearance or image is understood, then the migrant assumes his particular role and acts accordingly. This observation leads me to suspect that, in general, relations with the Spanish-speaking migrants, the "outsider" must make it clear what his function is and whether he will be part of the Mexican character or part of the Anglo character. Whichever front predominates, will influence the "outsider-migrant" relationship.

This Monday was full of events.

In the morning I took the Tafollas to Charlotte to purchase food stamps. Mr. Tafolla is 32 and his wife is 30. They met in a migrant camp in the state of Washington and now have seven children, all under 11 years of age. Both Tafollas have been migrants all their lives; they have little education, but want their children to complete at least high school.

In 1965 they started coming to Michigan at the invitation of Frank Gonzalez. This year, they purchased a 1969 Dodge pick-up and are concerned about fulfilling the payments on the truck.

At noon I drove to Lansing and picked up Suzie. We went on to Potterville to pick up Mrs. Salas and her step-daughter, Mrs. Longoria. They went with us to Charlotte to get food stamps. This extended family is very alert and the children are especially sharp.

One of the Salas daughters — Francis — is an honor student and was passed on to the seventh grade in Potterville. The other kids do pretty well, too. One notable feature is that they like to speak English and have the best vocabulary so-far encountered. Ana Longoria and her husband — both 20 with four children — would like to stay here and get a good job. This is one family with excellent potential.

After we purchased the food stamps, I noticed that one of the little Salas girls — Rosi — who went with us was limping. I found out that she stepped on a nail a week ago, but had received a tetanus shot. We immediately went to the clinic in Charlotte.

We soon learned that the only time shots could be authorized were on Thursdays. So we went across the street to the emergency service of the hospital. We were treated nicely, but asked to drive 10 miles south to Bellevue to get the tetanus shot from — get this — Dr. Frankenstein. He was very cooperative and accepted our word that he would get the social welfare to take care of the $8 bill (something we did the next day).

The Salas and Longoria families seemed pleased and especially happy about the stamps. We promised a visit the next day to do the small paper-work for the emergency treatment. We also got some information on free vaccinations from the clinic and will make an effort to have the kids immunized.

One interesting story was told to us by Ana. She related that her step-mother came from a very poor family that still lives in a hut, with a camp fire for a stove, near the Mexican border on the U.S. side. Get this, Ana said that these relatives were so poor that even their father sent money to help. This is a remarkable case of charity coming from people who themselves live on as little as $2,800 per year. If everyone expressed such willingness to contribute to the feeding and care of others, just think of how much better-off we would all be. But, such is life and rare is the moment when the spirit of thanksgiving hits us with such generosity as witnessed among the poor themselves.

7/8 I am more an more convinced that the cause of poverty amongst Mexican-American migrants is basically a lack of opportunity from the time of birth. Theirs in not a problem of "culture boundaries." Nor is the problem essentially or fundamentally one of poor health.

There are too many cases that prove that Mexican-American migrants are not "culturally bound." Take, for example, the Reyna family.

As Domingo Reyna tells it, his father died leaving five little ones in the care of Domingo’s mother. Domingo and his sister, Guadalupe Tafolla, — being the oldest — worked with their mother in fields since there were no other jobs available to raise the other children. Domingo and his sister proudly show the pictures of a brother in the Navy with a high school education, a sister who completed college and now teaches, and a younger brother who is in high school and was recently voted most popular student among his peers. Theirs is just one case, but there are others.

If just a little more opportunity — in the way of work with good pay — had been available, I’m sure Domingo Reyna and his sister would not be working the fields.

As it is, they have assumed a responsibility to care, in any way possible, for the others of the family and feel honored by the performance of their family.

Suzie and I spent the morning talking with this wonderful family of the Tafollas and Domingo. We learned that Mr. Tafolla is very concerned about making payments of a new Dodge pick-up. The reason they bought a new truck was for the warranty that came with the truck. This concern has made Mr. Tafolla consider staying in Michigan. He is interested in steady employment that pays well. However, he gives the impression of feeling that there is no other job for him.

His biggest fright seems to be his illiteracy. He can barely write his name. But, he’s been all over the states and wouldn’t be afraid to try a winter in Michigan if the opportunity is perceived by him to be readily available.

I can’t believe that these people are not in poor health; nearly every migrant I have talked to has mentioned passing a few days without food. In one case, Mr. Tafolla told me of begging for food amongst Blacks in the state of Washington. He said they were very generous and gave them a great boost of attention since they were working. Tafolla isn’t afraid to work and will seek out jobs first before asking for alms to feed his family.

7/9 The Mexican-American migrant is very proud and humble in his actions. Some of this pride even works against him to an extent. I know that Mr. Salas would not go for food stamps without the minimal payment involved. Little could be given to him and others for free.

But, the Mexican-American migrant also seeks self-respect that needs to be recognized and honored. They make it clear that they work for their earnings. The simple and used clothing that is given to them is taken as "work clothes" — at least they say it is. And when something is received by them, the donor receives, in turn, a warm thank you and welcome.

An aspect of this respect that they deserve was indicated to us today when Suzie and I visited with Mrs. Guerrero and her daughter-in-law.

The day before, we noticed that their children didn’t board the bus for the first day of summer school with the rest of the kids. The reason… the lady who registered the kids said she would tell the parents a day in advance of the bus’ arrival. Well, the lady didn’t carry out her advance notice and when the bus came, the Guerreros refused to send their children. Last night the registrar came out to see what was wrong and her visit provided the fulfillment of her original promise. Today, Mrs. Guerrero’s kids were on the bus and in school for the day. Mrs. Guerrero explained that, without the advance warning, she had no time to clean her kids and give them an adequate meal before they left.