A legacy, once lost: Part 4
A new generation of Hispanic youth in Phoenix during the 1960s and ‘70s would emerge as a force in the struggle for fair treatment of farm workers, student rights and other social issues.
These young Americans — bold, aggressive, outspoken and proud of their Mexican heritage — chose a new label for their identity: Chicano.
This new voice of advocacy was born in California, swept into Phoenix and energized young Latinos like Alfredo Gutierrez, Tommy Espinoza, Joe Eddie and Rosie Lopez, and Terry Cruz. Today many of these activists still are leading the way in Arizona.
Older, more conservative community organizations like Alianza Hispano began to fade, replaced by new ones created to confront modern social justice challenges. These new groups included the Mexican American Student Organization (MASO), United Farm Workers (UFW), Chicanos Por La Causa (CPLC), and Valle Del Sol, among others.
The birth of MASO in 1968 at Arizona State University was heavily influenced by the farm-worker rights movement led by Yuma native Cesar Chavez.
One of the first actions by MASO involved claims of pay discrimination by Latino laundry workers at Phoenix Linen and Towel Supply Company, which had a contract with ASU. About 300 members of MASO and other student groups staged a rally and sit-in until ASU ended its supply contract with the laundry.
Off campus, MASO helped to organize the first boycott of a Phoenix high school in 1970.
At Phoenix Union High School, minority dropout rates were high, and racial conflict between Hispanic and African American students had reached crisis levels.
Parents worked with CPLC, a new social activism organization located near the old Golden Gate barrio, and with MASO to present their concerns about their children’s safety and quality of education to school administrators. When the school did not respond to parents’ satisfaction, CPLC organized a boycott in October.
After three weeks, CPLC negotiated an agreement and Latino students returned to classes. As agreed, Phoenix Union High School started bilingual classes and included Chicano materials in its curriculum.
Possibly the most turbulent Chicano organizational activity of the era was the clash between farm worker union leaders and Republican Gov. Jack Williams, who represented Arizona’s farm owners.
The UFW tried to unionize state farm workers, who often toiled in unsafe conditions, had poor housing, no insurance, and were paid lower wages for the hard work of harvesting crops.
In 1972, the state Legislature passed a law aimed at breaking union organizing. The law forbade strikes during harvest season and boycotts (like the California grape boycott) at farms and supermarkets were prohibited. Also, police could monitor union activities.
UFW leader Cesar Chavez initiated a recall campaign against Williams when the Governor signed the bill into law. He also started a 24-day fast at Sacred Heart’s Santa Rita Center in the El Campito barrio. The fast drew national attention. Civil rights activists such as Coretta Scott King, widow of Martin Luther King, Jr., and folk singer Joan Baez came to Phoenix to show support.
The recall failed, but the lessons learned by young Chicanos later led them to start Phoenix community centers, to run for and be elected to the state Legislature, and to help elect Arizona’s first Mexican American governor in 1974, Raul Castro of Nogales.
Making history to show who
we were then, and are now
The Latino community transcended cultural divides and increasingly participated in Phoenix’s politics, lifestyle and economy during the three decades from 1957 to 1975.
Because the United States was experiencing a post-war boom, Hispanics were able to enter jobs in the blue-collar industries such as manufacturing, construction, and other trades that had been closed to them. White-collar jobs also began to be filled with Hispanics.
Having won legal battles to end housing discrimination, and now earning enough to buy homes, Mexican Americans were spreading across the city to integrate neighborhoods north of Van Buren, in west Phoenix, and in south Phoenix communities.
By working through community-based, mutual aid organizations such as American Legion Post 41, Latino leaders had ended institutional segregation in Phoenix businesses, schools, and public swimming pools.
Hispanic activism near the end of 1975 foreshadowed future productive partnerships between Latino and Anglo residents, fulfilling the promise of a shared destiny and cooperative ethnic relations that existed when Phoenix became a city in 1867.
Looking back, it is clear the history of the Mexican American community pre-dates the founding of Phoenix. From its inception, Mexican American citizens participated actively in the city’s development and success.
Although the Anglo population rose rapidly in 1900 to dominate the Mexican community, Hispanics fiercely held their own and during the next century created thriving barrios, businesses, recreation, community life and churches like Immaculate Heart and Sacred Heart.
Latinos were great contributors to the evolving major industries of Phoenix. These included agriculture, mining, cattle ranching, tourism, and construction. Local Hispanics created their own weekly newspapers to convey news, politics, community life and entertainment in a culturally sensitive way, and in Spanish. In 1949, the first Spanish-language radio station, KIFN, went on the air.
During the 20th century, Latinos created mutual aid organization to help one another. From La Liga Protectora Latino to Alianza Hispano Americanato the League of United Latin American Citizens, these groups provided outlets for politics, a social life, recreation and cultural preservation of heritage.
Although Hispanics such as Enrique “Henry” Garfias held important political posts in Phoenix’s earliest years, it wasn’t until Adam Diaz was elected to Phoenix City Council that Latinos again realized direct political participation in city government.
Since that time, Hispanic citizens have stepped up to take high positions at the city of Phoenix, have been elected to the state Legislature, and have even served as governor, as Raul Castro did in 1974.
Generations of Hispanics have left their mark in Phoenix. Their history was made in their neighborhoods, in the properties and buildings where they lived, worked, prayed and played.
Phoenix native and local historian Frank Barrios, who traces his family roots to the 1890s, sums up feelings shared by many local Hispanics.
“You can’t talk about Phoenix without the huge part that was the Mexican community…And that story has never been told. If the truth be told, you couldn’t have got to where we’re at if it hadn’t been for the Mexican contribution to the city.”
‘This history should
be also taught to kids’
The long history of Latinos to the development of Phoenix may be the greatest story untold in textbooks and media. Most Valley citizens are unaware of the vital contributions that can be traced to the local Latino community.
The finest historians often point out that history books are riddled with inaccuracies, with facts bent to fit the world view of those writing the chronicles.
However, the ground-breaking Hispanic Historic Property Survey commissioned by Phoenix city government reveals a truer picture of the city’s culturally diverse past. It provides many rich details and glimpses of a vibrant Latino history formerly stored away in museum and library archives.
Documents, photos, books, and personal interviews with Latinos about the era from 1867 to 1975 show that from the earliest Mexican American pioneers — like Trinidad Escalante the “mother of Phoenix, ” to later trailblazers like city Councilman Adam Diaz — show there has always been a courageous and optimistic spirit of purpose in the city’s Latino community.
To learn more about Phoenix’s Hispanic heritage, the entire series, photos and links to the Phoenix Hispanic Historic Survey and other Latino history archives can be found at www.latinopm.com
It is no coincidence that this history project coincides with National Hispanic Heritage Month, Sept. 15 to Oct. 15. The stories presented here and in the survey clearly exemplify the American spirit, showcasing the important contributions by Latinos to the making of this nation.
Unfortunately, much of Hispanic Phoenix’s memories, historic buildings and even entire Latino neighborhoods have been forgotten or bulldozed over. As our older generations of Hispanics pass on, the opportunity diminishes for them to tell of their challenges and triumphs.
Some Latinos who lived Phoenix history have shared their sometimes happy, sometimes sad memories in the survey, putting their perspectives on it all.
“It was difficult to be a Chicano here,” Adam Diaz, 98, recalls. “We suffered through a lot of discrimination. But we brushed it off and accomplished some of our goals. We’re all right now. We’re on our way.”
He offers this advice to future leaders: “Don’t get discouraged. Discouragement is a sin. Keep going. Keep fighting the good fight.”
Alfredo Gutierrez, now 65, at one time was a young Chicano on the front lines of the struggle for social justice in the ‘60s and ‘70s.
“My own reactions to all of the changes since we launched the Chicano Movement are an emotional cauldron of joy and sadness and so much in-between,” he says.
The need to confront injustice and protect human dignity still exists, he adds.
“The thousands of youngsters graduating annually bring great joy,” Gutierrez says, adding that today’s “constant and growing staccato of raids and deportations brings great anguish.”
Rudy Domenzn, 82, who was interviewed
for the Hispanic Historical Survey, wants all to appreciate the richness that Phoenix’s Hispanic population imbues in our city.
“This history should be also taught to kids,” he says.
Future Latino generations need to understand the Latino history of Phoenix, he says, in order to foster pride and self-esteem.
Barbara Stocklin, head of the Phoenix Historic Preservation Office, shares an example of how learning of her culture’s history affected one young Latina.
“Recently, our office gave a community presentation on the Hispanic Historic Property Survey. After the presentation, a young girl - about 8 years of age - came up to me, announcing excitedly that she was going to tell her schoolmates that Trinidad Escalante Swilling — a Mexican American — was the mother of Phoenix.
“She did not think that any of her friends would know that, and she was probably right. But hopefully, not for long.”
