A Box in the Closet

 

                                                                            

His voice is still heard

     Who places government secrets, classified, confidential documents in a box in an office closet? Yup, that was my dilemma as I wrote my third novel, Death and the American Dream.

     My protagonist, Pepe Rios, suspected his boss, and newspaper publisher, Martin Algodon, of conspiring with powerful people, to not only break the backs of workers by exploiting and silencing them, but to help manipulate the political relationship between the U.S. and Mexico, keeping corrupt politicians in power. It was during the time of revolt in Mexico and thousands of Mexican migrants headed north to join family already settled in the U.S. A major complication, the United States was at war in Europe, the first one, with Germany.

     As a railroad worker, Pepe learned upon first entering the U.S., Mexican labor was in demand, particularly immigrant labor, encouraged to come north by unscrupulous North American contractors who visited Mexican villages, promising fair salaries, good working conditions, and a chance at a better life. For those who accepted, once they arrived, they found broken promises and useless contracts. It was a system closely aligned to indentured servitude and subject to Jim Crow laws, especially jobs in factories, mines, fields, and on the railroads, harsh, punishing work.

     At the turn of the 20^th century, Los Angeles, Pepe’s home, was a hotbed of political intrigue, organized crime, and rampant corruption in the highest corridors of city hall, and the old issue, management on one side, labor on the other. It was also a time of iconic political, polarizing figures with names like, Doheny, Darrow, Hearst, Otis, Goldman, Debs, and Flores Magon, among others. They all lent their words, and influence, and money, to their particular cause.

     To study about work conditions in the United States at the turn of the 20^th century was to peek into a world of brutality, abuse, and danger. Companies punished workers who demanded a fair wage, a regular workweek, work hours, over-time pay, and safer working conditions, those rights we take for granted today. the government sold the public a false belief that raising wages would ruin business and cause rampant inflation, even as war-time businesses made record profits.

     Ricardo Flores Magon, a name I’d heard only in passing, until I began researching the Mexican revolution, came up again and again, even as I read about labor wars in 1920s Los Angeles. Why hadn’t I read more about Flores Magon in Chicano education circles? UCLA history professor Juan Gomez Quinones researched him extensively and wrote a book, “Sembradores,” about Flores Magon and his influential political party, the Mexican Liberal Party (PLM). Well, we know what happens to most scholarly books. They often get buried in the basement of some university library.  

                                                                                 

For some, the revolution never ended

     A powerful figure in Mexican history, some argue an important voice behind the Mexican Revolution of 1910, Ricardo Flores Magon and his followers sought refuge in Los Angeles, where they set up shop and published their newspaper, “Regeneracion.” At the time, Los Angeles had more than twenty Spanish language newspapers, pamphlets, and newsletters. Seeking support from the United States, a country he figured supported democracy and human rights, unlike Mexico, a country ruled by caudillos, Ricardo Flores Magon was badly mistaken. The U.S. government saw him a threat and joined Mexico in its persecution of him. His potent words in support of workers’ rights were a threat to all businesses and governments.

     Ricard Flores’ Magon’s name should be as important in Chicano history as Cesar Chavez, Bert Corona, Corky Gonzalez, Reyes Tijerina, Dolores Huerta, or any other leader who fought for Chicano rights. He spent years in the U.S. moving his operation to St. Louis, Kansas, Los Angeles, and even into Canada, fleeing the long arms of both the U.S. and Mexican law. The voices of Magon, Goldman, and Debs caught the ears of thousands of workers, not only in the U.S. and Mexico, but around the world, a cry to cleanup or change corrupt governments.

     In my writer’s imagination, I had the Magonistas befriend Pepe just about the time Ricardo was jailed in Los Angeles. Pepe knew he needed to break into his boss’s office and find evidence to help Ricardo, who was being charged for sedition against the U.S. government, a treasonous action.

     Trying to follow history as closely as possible, I learned the seditious act was based on a line Ricardo had written in Regeneracion, which read, “Everywhere fists become clenched, minds become exalted, hearts beat with violence, and those who do not murmur shout, longing for the moment when their hardened hands will drop the work tools and take up the rifle that is waiting for the hero’s caress.”

     Those last words, “…when hardened hands drop work tools and take up the rifle,” the U.S. government concluded were a call for insurrection and a plot to overthrow the U.S. government, a clear act of sedition, which earned him a sentence of 25 years in Leavenworth, and, ultimately, his life, taken from him, while in prison, under suspicious conditions.

     So, as the writer, I placed Pepe late one night in his boss’s office, in a room containing a row of file cabinets. Pepe began searching the files for anything which might look important to show some proof of government conspiracy or machinations against Ricardo and the PLM party.

                                                                                         

Who hides confidential material in a closet?

     Finally, exhausted after so much searching, Pepe left the file room, went back through his boss’s office, but just before he exited, he looked back at the closet and wondered if he should look inside. Now, my confusion in creating this scene, I remember, thinking, just like Pepe, who in his right mind would keep confidential, classified government documents in a personal closet? That’s not reckless but just plain stupid. Pepe’s boss, Martin, wasn’t stupid. In fact, he was pretty damn smart, so, for sure, he’d keep anything incriminating or classified in a private safe or secure location.

     I recall writing the scene, my fingers on the computer keys, as if I was watching Pepe, go to the closet door, find it unlocked, and step inside. His flashlight losing its charge, he turns on a small overhead light. Yup, it’s a closet, clothes hanging and all the stuff a personal office closet would contain, old stacks of newspapers and junk. As he is about to exit, Pepe turns and sees it, way at the back, a box. Sure, Pepe and I both figure, probably just more junk, but I tell my protagonist, go check it out. Well, he’s got to do what I tell him, right. I’m the writer, even if sometimes he’s stubborn and wants to do it his own way. This time he listens to me.

     When he takes off the cover of the box, he finds the proverbial treasure trove of confidential documents, personal, incriminating letters, correspondence between lovers, married to important people, classified government documents, both U.S. and Mexican, “…confidential memos from the police department to companies, warnings of planned labor strikes…letters…typed on U.S. military letterhead: information about Villa’s forces…current documents about Zapata’s movement and Carranza’s plans with the U.S. administration on how to terminate Zapata and Villa. An anonymous writer located in Virginia advised that the U.S. government might want to consider killing Carranza,” the Mexican president. Pepe is nothing but astonished, as am I, all this, in a closet.

     That’s where it gets back to me, the writer, thinking, again, no, it’s dumb, placing classified, confidential government information in a personal office closet. An intelligent reader wouldn’t go for it, not even if they “suspend their willingness of disbelief” as the British poet Coleridge said.

     Martin Algodon, Pepe’s politically connected boss, isn’t an idiot. What then? Maybe I should just cut the scene and let Pepe get home to his family. I decided to keep it in. Not everyone is so smart.  Still, what kind of person would do that, leave highly confidential, classified information in a closet?

     I think I’ll turn on the news to find out.

Published by Bilingual Press, Daniel Cano's novel Death and the American Dream won 1st place in historical fiction at the 2010 International Latino Book Awards