Tuesday, November 18, 2008

By EVE HIGHTOWER
ehightower@modbee.com

last updated: September 17, 2008 02:53:08 AM

They came to California because there was nowhere else to turn.

There was no money to be made in the fields back home, so they packed what they could, sold the rest and turned their sights toward the Golden State, where streets were paved with gold, jobs were plentiful and everyone ate well -- or so they'd heard.

Although agriculture, employment laws and the face of farmworkers have changed, this story is as true today as it was in the 1930s, when dust storms blew through the Great Plains carrying away miles of topsoil and leaving behind severe ecological and agricultural damage.

In the 1930s, "Okies" were coaxed to California by promises of work and agricultural bounty. Slowly, they put down roots in valley towns including Modesto, infusing the region's culture with evangelical religious beliefs, country music and a tireless devotion to hard work.

They left a lasting impression, but the 1930s was the first and last time a majority of farmworkers were white. Since then, the majority have been from Mexico.

Just as Okies moved to the valley and influenced the culture, so have Mexican workers. Today, the region is home to scores of taquerías selling traditional dishes and radio stations pumping out Spanish-language music.

Farmworkers not only influenced valley culture over the past 70 years, but also farming operations.

Okies demanded higher wages. Then, Mexican farmworkers led boycotts in favor of job security and better working conditions, said Professor Philip Martin, who studies migration and labor issues at the University of California at Davis.

Still, nearly 60 years after photographer Dorothea Lange and writer John Steinbeck captured the Okies' plight, many of the same problems persist, said United Farm Workers spokeswoman Vicki Adame.

"Laws don't matter unless they're followed," Adame said. "Everyone looks the other way. There's no one out there policing the fields."

That's a stretch, said Stanislaus County Farm Bureau Executive Manager Wayne Zipser. The state has

66 inspectors who make surprise farm visits three weeks a month.

When some fields are inspected, the violations reveal a scene that would have been common in the 1930s.

This summer, state labor inspectors uncovered a slew of violations during a sweep that began in Modesto and headed north over two days. Crews were using banned tools, had zero shade or safety plans, and water but no cups. Children too young to work legally were found toiling in the fields. And some workers lived in a makeshift village with more than 30 tents.

"We thought if we worked hard, we would live comfortably. But picking is never going to give you a comfortable life. As long as you pick, life is hard," Sonia Mendoza, 27, of Ceres said in Spanish.

That's a lesson farmworkers have been learning for decades, Martin said.

"I think what the 1930s showed us is the best way to help a farmworker is to get him out of agriculture. I don't think that's changed," he said.

Agriculture "is a starting point for them. Parents pick and send their kids to school and their kids get better jobs," Zipser said.

Tears well up in Francisco Mendoza's eyes when asked about his children.

"I want different work for them. I want them to study. They aren't going to do this work," said Mendoza, 38, of Hilmar, who is not related to Sonia Mendoza.

But for many farm laborers, it's the only kind of work they've known, and some prefer it, said Turlock peach grower Randy Fiorini, 54.

Miguel Chavez, 54, of Hilmar makes about $9 an hour working in almond orchards. After 37 years, he said, he still enjoys it because he likes his co-workers.

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