Published by the Hispanic Institute of Social Issues in Phoenix, Arizona
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Son of Former "Bracero" Worker Carries on an Inheritance of Struggle
By Eduardo Barraza August 18, 2011
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Gregorio León heads the grassroots
organization called Bi-national Front
of Former Migrant Farmworkers of
Arizona, which seeks to try to
recover the savings of hundreds of
braceros that were never paid to
them by the Mexican government.
Photo by Yolie Hernandez | Barriozona
organization called Bi-national Front
of Former Migrant Farmworkers of
Arizona, which seeks to try to
recover the savings of hundreds of
braceros that were never paid to
them by the Mexican government.
Photo by Yolie Hernandez | Barriozona
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Phoenix, Arizona - Lucio Melquiades León, a Mexican farmworker
whom with his sweat watered the furrows of the planting fields of
the United States during the “Bracero Program”, died without
receiving full compensation for his hard work.
Lucio was one of the millions of Mexican workers known as
“braceros” in a time when being a migrant farmworker was an
indispensable piece to counterattack the ravages of war in the U.S.
economy.
Today, Lucio’s sons, and hundreds of braceros in Phoenix, are
seeking to recover, at least through a symbolic amount of money,
the savings that they earned bending their backs in the harvests
that kept the U.S. economy moving.
For decades, thousands of former braceros have sought and waited
in vain to receive the agreed 10 percent of their salaries that was
withheld to serve as a savings fund, to be withdrawn after their
contracts ended. Instead, the savings were illegally kept in bank
accounts of unscrupulous people who stole from these humble men
and their families their money, legitimately earned in the long and
harsh working days in the cotton, cucumber or lettuce fields.
Most former braceros are now of old age. As more time elapses, they
see the moment delayed when they can receive at least a fraction of
what they earned with dignity. Others, like Lucio, have died without
being able to reap the fruit of their labor regardless of having reaped
the fruits and vegetables that fed the American people for years
during the war, the postwar and the Cold War.
The son of Lucio Melquiades León speaks
Turned into a leader by necessity, Gregorio León fought along his
father Lucio to recover those savings that never made it to his bank
account. Gregorio inherited from his father not an amount of money
but a bilateral struggle to attempt recovering the percentage of
wages that Lucio, who died in 2002, never received.
Without his father, the savings and on an uphill path, Gregorio took
the labor struggle into his hands, and without trying, he became an
organizer of the hundreds of voices that, despite the refusal and
long delay, still keep the hope in their hearts and the pressure on
the Mexican government.
Gregorio heads a grassroots organization called Frente Binacional de
Ex-braceros de Arizona (or Bi-national Front of Former Migrant
Farmworkers of Arizona). The son of the deceased bracero
remembers the origins of what later would become a strong social
movement.
“My dad and other former braceros began this in 1998 or 1999. It
began to gain importance, but there was a very bad response from
the government; they were not taking it into consideration, there
was not a positive answer,” recalls Gregorio.
When he is asked as son of a former migrant worker for his opinion
about the embezzlement of his father’s savings, the organizer
pauses for a moment. Then he answers emphatically, as if he’s trying
to smash the government’s bad action with his words.
“It’s a mockery. It’s a mockery that they vilely stole from everybody,
and in particular in the case of my father. It’s a mockery that they
stole from them and that they don’t want to admit and pay them the
exact amount of money that they embezzled from them.”
Gregorio estimates that the Mexican government received a very
large amount of money as a result of the collective 10 percent that
was withheld from the farmworkers.
“My dad was contracted ten times,” explains Gregorio. “We calculate
that at the very least, about $50 dollars were taken from the
braceros, each time they were contracted, because they were
contracted around 45 days, and there were contracts that lasted 18
months. Therefore, at the very least, if we put it this way, it was
more than $50 dollars for each time they were contracted. That is to
say, it is a lot of money, and if there were more than four and a half
million contracted men… This money was deposited in Wells Fargo.
Wells Fargo transferred it to the Mexican government. There it
disappeared.”
Besides his financial calculations and within the context of struggle to
try to recover some of the missing savings, the leader of the Frente
Binacional del Ex-braceros de Arizona, assesses the great
contribution his father and the millions of farmworkers made to this
country during one of the most difficult times of U.S. history.
“Here in the United States, the very same president who was in
office at that time acknowledged them as the ‘sixth front of the war.’
He declared them ‘soldiers of the furrows’,” he says with pride. “If
we remember, the United States was involved in World War II. All
young men, and every person who was productively strong, were in
the war front. They needed the farmworkers urgently; they needed
labor, cheap labor, labor that was at close reach.”
When he ponders about the labor role these former braceros
represented in the U.S. society, and the unjust way the Mexican
government itself stole their savings, Gregorio leaves no doubt
about what he considers his dad and the millions of fellow farm-
workers who carried out this hard work means within a circle of
historic and human dimension.
“This is what really kept in motion the U.S. economy in those times.
Then, I consider that my dad was one of the heroes. Just like all of
his fellow braceros, they are anonymous heroes here in the U.S.
Today, unfortunately, they have denied everything to them.”
whom with his sweat watered the furrows of the planting fields of
the United States during the “Bracero Program”, died without
receiving full compensation for his hard work.
Lucio was one of the millions of Mexican workers known as
“braceros” in a time when being a migrant farmworker was an
indispensable piece to counterattack the ravages of war in the U.S.
economy.
Today, Lucio’s sons, and hundreds of braceros in Phoenix, are
seeking to recover, at least through a symbolic amount of money,
the savings that they earned bending their backs in the harvests
that kept the U.S. economy moving.
For decades, thousands of former braceros have sought and waited
in vain to receive the agreed 10 percent of their salaries that was
withheld to serve as a savings fund, to be withdrawn after their
contracts ended. Instead, the savings were illegally kept in bank
accounts of unscrupulous people who stole from these humble men
and their families their money, legitimately earned in the long and
harsh working days in the cotton, cucumber or lettuce fields.
Most former braceros are now of old age. As more time elapses, they
see the moment delayed when they can receive at least a fraction of
what they earned with dignity. Others, like Lucio, have died without
being able to reap the fruit of their labor regardless of having reaped
the fruits and vegetables that fed the American people for years
during the war, the postwar and the Cold War.
The son of Lucio Melquiades León speaks
Turned into a leader by necessity, Gregorio León fought along his
father Lucio to recover those savings that never made it to his bank
account. Gregorio inherited from his father not an amount of money
but a bilateral struggle to attempt recovering the percentage of
wages that Lucio, who died in 2002, never received.
Without his father, the savings and on an uphill path, Gregorio took
the labor struggle into his hands, and without trying, he became an
organizer of the hundreds of voices that, despite the refusal and
long delay, still keep the hope in their hearts and the pressure on
the Mexican government.
Gregorio heads a grassroots organization called Frente Binacional de
Ex-braceros de Arizona (or Bi-national Front of Former Migrant
Farmworkers of Arizona). The son of the deceased bracero
remembers the origins of what later would become a strong social
movement.
“My dad and other former braceros began this in 1998 or 1999. It
began to gain importance, but there was a very bad response from
the government; they were not taking it into consideration, there
was not a positive answer,” recalls Gregorio.
When he is asked as son of a former migrant worker for his opinion
about the embezzlement of his father’s savings, the organizer
pauses for a moment. Then he answers emphatically, as if he’s trying
to smash the government’s bad action with his words.
“It’s a mockery. It’s a mockery that they vilely stole from everybody,
and in particular in the case of my father. It’s a mockery that they
stole from them and that they don’t want to admit and pay them the
exact amount of money that they embezzled from them.”
Gregorio estimates that the Mexican government received a very
large amount of money as a result of the collective 10 percent that
was withheld from the farmworkers.
“My dad was contracted ten times,” explains Gregorio. “We calculate
that at the very least, about $50 dollars were taken from the
braceros, each time they were contracted, because they were
contracted around 45 days, and there were contracts that lasted 18
months. Therefore, at the very least, if we put it this way, it was
more than $50 dollars for each time they were contracted. That is to
say, it is a lot of money, and if there were more than four and a half
million contracted men… This money was deposited in Wells Fargo.
Wells Fargo transferred it to the Mexican government. There it
disappeared.”
Besides his financial calculations and within the context of struggle to
try to recover some of the missing savings, the leader of the Frente
Binacional del Ex-braceros de Arizona, assesses the great
contribution his father and the millions of farmworkers made to this
country during one of the most difficult times of U.S. history.
“Here in the United States, the very same president who was in
office at that time acknowledged them as the ‘sixth front of the war.’
He declared them ‘soldiers of the furrows’,” he says with pride. “If
we remember, the United States was involved in World War II. All
young men, and every person who was productively strong, were in
the war front. They needed the farmworkers urgently; they needed
labor, cheap labor, labor that was at close reach.”
When he ponders about the labor role these former braceros
represented in the U.S. society, and the unjust way the Mexican
government itself stole their savings, Gregorio leaves no doubt
about what he considers his dad and the millions of fellow farm-
workers who carried out this hard work means within a circle of
historic and human dimension.
“This is what really kept in motion the U.S. economy in those times.
Then, I consider that my dad was one of the heroes. Just like all of
his fellow braceros, they are anonymous heroes here in the U.S.
Today, unfortunately, they have denied everything to them.”
Eduardo Barraza is a journalist and writer,
Barriozona Magazine's editor, and director of
the Hispanic Insitute of Social Issues.
E-mail: editor@barriozona.com
Barriozona Magazine's editor, and director of
the Hispanic Insitute of Social Issues.
E-mail: editor@barriozona.com
