Category Archives: Migrants

MIGRANTS: Mexican migration at net zero

… That’s the conclusion of a Pew Hispanic Center analysis, which may prove to be good news for those immigrants who have been able to remain here. (Here’s the LA Times story.)

The center figures this net zero migration has probably been true since 2007 and is due to a variety of factors: the U.S. recession, increased deportations, threats to immigrants along the border, and others.

In conversations I’ve had with immigrants, many are saying their friends and relatives are not coming north. (Folks I’ve interviewed aren’t returning home, either.) The cost is quite high — both in cash as well as in dangers faced, as drug traffickers and criminals have learned to use immigrants as revenue streams, kidnapping them and charging their families even more than they’ve already paid.

Meanwhile, the potential payoff of a job up here is dramatically lower.

All of which may mean that those who do remain here might look to an improvement in their standard of living, as the greatest competition to a Mexican immigrant, particularly one with few skills, no English and no papers, is another just like himself.

Then there’s this — a story in La Jornada (thanks to Keith Dannemiller for the tip) saying that flows to refuges for migrants in southern Mexico have doubled, especially from places such as Veracruz, Chiapas and Tabasco, due largely to crises in Central American countries.

Interesting times….

 

 

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MIGRANTS: Salvadorans and Koreans

Yesterday I spent some time with Salvadoran immigrants as they inaugurated the corner of Pico and Vermont as Monsenor Oscar Romero Square.

An interesting exertion of the ethnic presence in an area where Latinos are the majority population, but the economic power is largely Korean.

These kinds of (I’ll call them) tensions make I think for interesting stories. The square and a hoped-for El Salvadoran Corridor down Vermont was presented to me as a way of having Salvadorans recognized, but also saying to Koreans that Salvadorans are here and to be taken into account.

Salvadorans were stung two years ago when Korean-American leaders tried to expand the official boundaries of Koreatown to include (largely Latino) Pico-Union without consulting them.

It’s unclear how forceful a square or corridor will be — but the precedent of Chinatown, Koreatown, Little Tokyo, Little Armenia, etc. is there. So Salvadorans feel they have something coming, too.

The other interesting point to come out of it, seems to me, is that the Salvadorans pushing this are, for the first time, business owners and Salvadoran-Americans, and mostly younger.

The Salvadoran community took shape in the 1980s amid lots of attention to its civil war. Nonprofits formed here to attend to the needs of the new refugees. The folks who ran these nonprofits became the public face of the Salvadoran community and have been there ever since. The business community was small and disorganized and the political class was nonexistent. (Salvadorans still have elected no one to public office in LA County.) Yet these nonprofit leaders, apparently, often clashed with each other over; occasionally the dividing lines were the same as those during the civil war. Most folks I spoke with count this as a reason why Salvadoran economic and political power has lagged here in L.A.

But that now seems to be changing, as a new generation steps forward, and seems to leave behind the divisions created by the country’s civil war (1980-92). Be interesting to watch how it unfolds.

 

 

 

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MIGRANTS: Carmen of Honduras

I was at a ceremony inaugurating the corner of Pico and Vermont as Monsenor Oscar Romero Square, and I met Carmen, who asked if I had any work for a housekeeper.

I said I didn’t, but she seemed nice, with good references, she assured me, so if you have any work for a housekeeper, let me know.

 

 

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LOS ANGELES: Virgin of the Sundown

Another in my continuing attempt to photograph all the Virgins of Guadalupe in Los Angeles — this in South L.A., on Central Avenue, I believe.

 

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LOS ANGELES: “Some weird things wash up in our city”

The LA suburb of El Segundo saw a boatload of illegal immigrants come ashore on Wednesday morning; they were taken into custody.

Boats — flat panga boats in particular (used by Mexican fishermen) — are the new transport vehicle in the coyote business. El Segundo is about as far north as I’ve heard them landing.

At first, they were landing in San Diego, then ICE got wise, and they began landing in Orange County. Crystal Cove woke up to a few launches, with footsteps in the sand.

Now they’re coming ashore well into LA County.

 

 

 

 

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MIGRANTS: A Oaxacan baker and the “The Radicalism of the American Revolution”

Juan Gutierrez, Oaxacan baker in Santa Monica

I’ve been reading The Radicalism of the American Revolution by historian Gordon Wood lately. The book talks about the ways in which colonists were breaking from dependence on each other and from Britain, from traditions of England, from old religions to a new, individualistic Great Awakening and new ways of thinking, making a living and doing business.

This break from the Old World and creation of the New has always intrigued me.

Thus I was fascinated to listen to the story of Juan Gutierrez, a Zapotec Indian from a village in Oaxaca, and the owner of Panaderia Antequera in Santa Monica, which was the first Oaxacan-owned business in the LA area when it opened in 1985 or so.

We spoke in his bakery (17th and Ocean Park) the other day.

He and his wife began baking in their house, then found the small shop that was barely surviving and took it over. With the huge population of Oaxacan Indians on LA’s west side (the reasons for which are themselves fascinating, but which I’ll go into later), business has been great almost from the start, and this has encouraged other Oaxacan Indians to start their own.

Living and doing business here, far from the traditions and customs of his village, Gutierrez has had his own awakening, new ways of viewing what’s possible.

Running a business in Santa Monica, he was at the same time dealing with the 17th Century, in the form of demands by villagers back home that he return to do what’s known as his tequio or servicio. Indian villages in Mexico require members in good standing to perform a servicio, unpaid for three years.

This communal custom goes back hundreds of years and has been essential to the functioning of Indian villages. Those who don’t perform it can have their land, houses and property confiscated.

Now, though, many villagers live in the US, with responsibilities up here. Even if they have legal residency, it’s still expensive to go home; if they do not have papers, it’s even more so to return. Plus, they no longer are thinking like the young migrants they were when they arrived from the village as teenagers.

Mr. Gutierrez noted that the village depended on remittances from paisanos in the US, who had also donated money to the annual fiesta each year and funded improvements to city hall and the local school.

He offered to pay someone to do his servicio, saying he had a family and business up here and both needed his attention.

But the village authorities, in his view motivated by envy and believing him rich because he owned a business, insisted he come personally, to be a city councilman for three years.

So for three years he lived in the Old World and the New.

More later on what happened.

 

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MIGRANTS: Curandero Carlos, Guatemalan Witch Doctor

Yesterday, I met Hermano Carlos, a curandero, or witch doctor, from Guatemala.

One of the great botanicas in all LA, his place on Pico, which is quickly becoming one of my favorite streets in town.

His place is filled with soaps to Keep Hate Away, and aerosol sprays for love, and candles, Santa Muerte, San Simon, Jesus Malverde, and every kind of icon to ward off evil and welcome good luck and happiness. A lot of it’s made in China.

He said he’s been curing people since he was 5, and came here in 1988, fleeing Guatemala’s civil war.

Initially, he had some competition from El Indio Amazonico, a strange fellow who seemed to franchise out his curing shops and had several the last time I looked. But Carlos said those shops seem to be closing, so Hermano Carlos has more business. The recession hasn’t hurt either, as more people have come to him for help finding work.

He had to interrupt our chat to read the cards of a client who happened by. More later.

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MIGRANTS: Pizza Hut Tanda

I’ve just begun a story on the large number of Oaxacan business owners you find now in Los Angeles, particularly in Pico-Union, Hollywood and Koreatown.

I remember in the late 1990s coming to LA and not seeing any of this. But Oaxacans have lost a little of their fear of business. So now there are restaurants, markets, beauty salons, bakeries, a hardware store — all mentioning their Oaxaca connection and drawing on the vast Oaxacan population in those areas.

It’s an entire business community that started without anyone walking into a  bank for a loan.

I met Ramiro, who owns a butcher shop and market on Pico.

He told me years ago he worked at Pizza Hut, where all the Mexican employees formed a tanda — an informal savings/loan network, in which each member contributes money each month, then receives a large payout a year or two later. When it came his time to get the payout, he bought a house in Inglewood not because he wanted a house but really because he wanted a garage he could control. In the garage, he started a meat truck business.

That was 10 years ago. Now he’s got three butcher shops/markets.

 

 

 

 

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BUSINESS: El Payasito – `You get into what you have to get into to survive in this country’

In large parts of the LA economic ecosystem, immigrants alone participate.

The other day I happened on El Payasito, one of the great stores in LA. It sells all that anyone needs for a Mexican birthday party.

It’s owned by an Iranian immigrant named Sam, who wouldn’t give me his last name and didn’t want to be photographed.

He was a civil engineer in Iran and left after the Iranian Revolution. He owned an auto shop with a cousin for a while. Then saw that a much larger shop had burned on Pico Blvd, in Pico-Union, bought it and was renovating the place. He put a few things out for sale, and people snapped them up.

So instead of a auto shop, it became a kind of thrift store for a few years, selling remainders. Then a salesman for a party supply shop came by and begged him to let him open up two aisles of the store to his products. Sam did and they sold immediately. He opened more aisles, and sold out again.

He renamed the store El Payasito (Little Clown) and learned some Spanish and that’s how he’s spent the last 25 years: selling candy, cups, plates, toys, tortilla holders, candles, pots, pans and a lot more from his converted body shop on Pico. Dozens of pinatas — which he gets from Tijuana, and some from LA, and are the only thing in his store not from China, apparently — hang from his ceiling.

“The Latino market is just huge,” he told me. “When they make it they spend it.”

I’m fascinated by the immigrants who’ve made a living here selling Mexicans the most intimate parts of their culture: parties, food, clothes. I wrote a story years ago for the LA Times on just this. Had I known about El Payasito then, I would have included it.

Sam’s is worthy of a Chekhov short story. An immigrant engineer, fleeing political upheaval comes to a new land and ends up selling party supplies to Mexicans. Man, I love that story.

“You get into what you have to get into to survive in this country,” he said.

 

 

 

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VIRGIN: Virgin of the Razor Wire, “Pray for Us”

Virgin of the Razor Wire, Highland Park, Los Angeles

In a back alley in Highland Park, northeast Los Angeles.

 

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STREETS: Adan, ice cream vendor

Adan, ice cream vendor, from Puebla, Mexico, Glassell Park, Los Angeles

Took this photo the other day when I was in Glassell Park, in northeast L.A.

I was asking Adan if he wasn’t afraid driving through Drew Street in Glassell Park, which had been a very frightening place, due to a gang that once controlled it. He said he’d been driving the street for three years with no problems.

I asked him if he’d mind if I took his photo. He crouched down and here it is.

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BUSINESS: An upholsterer’s revolutionary roots – Benjamin Argumedo IV

 

Gritaba Francisco Villa: ¿dónde te hallas Argumedo?
ven párate aquí adelante tú que nunca tienes miedo.

 

Today, looking for someone else, I happened upon Benjamin Argumedo IV — great-grandson of the famed Mexican revolutionary of the same name.

The original Argumedo has a famous corrido written about him and figured also in the classic song, Carabina 30-30, which Los Lobos covered a while back (quoted above). There was also a movie about him, starring ranchero singer Antonio Aguilar: La Persecucion y Muerte de Benjamin Argumedo.

As with most revolutionaries back then, his was a romantic and complicated history. An illiterate saddlemaker who rose to revolutionary fame by leading peasants to claim land they said was theirs, he later switched sides and supported the counter-revolution of Victoriano Huerta. When that failed, the new government of Venustiano Carranza sent troops after him, captured him in Durango, where the Lion of Coahuila and the Tiger of The Laguna, both of which were his nicknames, was shot by a firing squad in 1916.

His great-grandson owns a custom upholstery shop in Highland Park, where he puts life back into old sofas and easy chairs — something he learned from his late father, Benjamin Argumedo III, who started the business, Golden B.A.,  at another location. Golden being for the Golden Gate Bridge.

Ben – as IV is known –  opened his own shop three years ago and called it Golden B.A. IV. (Don’t know about you, but I see a resemblance to his great-grandfather.)

Ben’s father moved the family here in the 1950s, he told me, probably looking for a better life than they were going to find in Coahuila. They landed in  Highland Park (a neighborhood in northeast LA) in the late 1950s, when it was mostly populated by Italians and Jews. “We were the only Hispanic family around,” he told me.

Argumedo IV grew up there as Highland Park became the Latino neighborhood it is today, and has returned only occasionally to Mexico, and not at all recently due to the drug violence down there.

So many immigrants have these stunning stories tucked away in their family histories. (I’ve also met a sister of a former first lady of Cambodia and a former first lady of South Vietnam — both in the suburbs of L.A.)

You can hear the Corrido of Benjamin Argumedo here.

 

 

 

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VIRGIN: Nino’s Meat Market

Virgin of Nino's Meat Market, Avalon & 51st Street, Los Angeles

Another in my attempt to chronicle the many Virgins of Guadalupes on Los Angeles walls.

The more I do it, the more I’m struck by the way the street of south LA and of Pico-Union, Hollywood and other neighborhoods make up what amounts to a massive open-air modern art museum.

It’s an interesting time. Who knows? In 10 years, a planning-commission-like conformity may have come to these areas. But for now they’re a jangle of images, much of related to commerce, yet the overall effect is riotous color.

 

Virgin of Nino’s Meat Market, Avalon & 51st Street

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STREET: Questions for a transgender Mexican immigrant?

I’m in Chatsworth, in LA’s San Fernando Valley, to interview a transgender woman from Merida, Mexico. I’m interested in hearing a story of her transformation, which apparently took place here, and it was seeking this that she fled Mexico (fled being not too strong a word in her case, given the harassment she received).

I’ve been interested in stories of transformation for much of my journalistic life, I guess because they usually involve someone making difficult choices, traveling from one point to another in some way. Immigrant stories are endlessly interesting for that reason. Also, someone who changes over time is usually someone intent on something, perhaps even obsessed, and they are more interesting than folks who let life happen to them.

If you have a question you always wanted to ask a transgender woman, and Mexican immigrant, now’s the time to shoot it to me. Happy to hear any ideas…..

Meanwhile, sitting at a cafe in Chatsworth, porn capital of America, a troup of four gaudily attractive young women in tight mini-skirts and one unshaven guy in short hair and a shirt unbuttoned to his chest just walked by. What am I to make of them?

 

 

 

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GANGS: Where’d all the gangs go? pt. II

 

I spent some time today on Drew Street in the Glassell Park neighborhood in northeast LA.

This three three-block stretch was once one of the most dangerous spots in the city. It was essentially a closed society, and had as much to do with a Mexican village as with LA itself. It was inhabited by dozens of families from the town of Tlalchapa, Guerrero in the Tierra Caliente, a particularly violent part of southern Mexico.

Drew was the landing strip for immigrants from Tlalchapa, but even back in the town, Drew came to be known as the “Barrio Bajo” (the Low Neighborhood), as all those with aspirations came and left, leaving behind those with other intentions.

A few in particular grew up to run the drug trade on the street and their children grew into gang members. By the middle of the last decade, Drew Street was like a garrison state in some ways, where the folks on the street ran things, dense apartments provided places to hide and watch for police, and no one could move in who didn’t have some connection to the gang families in the area. (I know one person who had his rent money refunded by the gang to get him to move.) One family in particular was the shot-caller: the Leon-Reals, and especially the matriarch, Maria “La Chata” Leon.

I wrote about the family and the street after one of the family members, Danny Leon, was killed in a shootout with cops in 2008.

In the following years, the gang on Drew Street was the focus of a RICO indictment and a gang injunction. Many went to prison, including La Chata. One of the Leon Reals, Francisco, turned state’s evidence. The city seized several properties and, in an attempt at a kind of exorcism, destroyed La Chata’s house, which had a large satellite dish and was thus known as the Satellite House. It’s now a community garden.

Things are very different now on Drew. The gang still has some presence – it writes on trees and sidewalks, but by and large things are quiet, even sweet, on Drew.

Adan, an ice cream vendor, says he hasn’t had any trouble in the three years he’s been driving the street. The community garden seems full. There are no kids in hoodies lurking by the cars. The major apartment buildings are without graffiti.

I spoke with Ignacio Ramirez, who bought in 1968 and watched as the street descended into hell. He woke up to a body one morning, and a bullet hole in his door another.

He now owns four properties on Drew, even buying one of the houses the city seized due to drug activity.

“It’s getting there,” he said.

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