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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salaries that was withheld to serve as a savings fund, to be withdrawn after their contracts ended.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.”
Copyright © 2011 Hispanic Institute of Social Issues
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.”
Copyright © 2011 Hispanic Institute of Social Issues
| Grassroots Journalism www.barriozona.com |
Gregorio León heads the grassroots organization called Bi-national Front of Former Migrant
Farm-workers of Arizona, which seeks to try to recover the savings of hundreds of braceros that were
never paid to them by the Mexican government.
Farm-workers of Arizona, which seeks to try to recover the savings of hundreds of braceros that were
never paid to them by the Mexican government.
By Eduardo Barraza
Barriozona
August 18, 2011
Barriozona
August 18, 2011
Son of Former "Bracero" Worker Carries on an Inheritance of
Struggle
Struggle
