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| 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 20th 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 20th 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.
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| 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.
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| 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
