Mexican Americans in Washington State - Graduate School - The ...

Off the Border: Mexican Americans
in Washington State
An Oral History Project
Lisa Elizondo
Michael Innis-Jiménez, Ph.D.,
Assistant Professor of American Studies
Abstract
The Chicano Movement is of utmost importance to the
history of Mexican Americans in the United States. Mexican
American activism and organization for equal educational
opportunities, the end of discrimination, farm
workers’ rights, and access to healthcare have received
little attention in historical literature. Even less wellknown
are the events that transpired in Washington state,
a region that is off the border but still decidedly important
as a hub for organization of Mexican Americans, especially
farm workers. The collection of oral histories
from farm workers, activists, and members of the Mexican
American community in Washington serves to shed light
on the under-documented events of the time, as well as
the lasting legacies which are still in place in Washington.
Two distinct communities in Western and Eastern Washington
were active during the 1960s and 1970s. Western
Washington saw students at the University of Washington
take the lead in bringing activism to the greater Seattle
community, and some of the organizations they created
are still important fixtures in the city and the state. Activists
in Eastern Washington were tuned into the plight of
the farm worker, especially in the agriculture-rich Yakima
Valley. Though activists made strides for future generations
in the realms of education and farm worker rights,
the most tangible, lasting legacies of the movement in
Washington are facilities throughout the state that have
opened up access to healthcare for many Latinos and
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low-income laborers. Oral histories collected from members
of the community, as well as from activists involved
in both the student and farm worker movements, help expand
public knowledge of organization, activism, and the
legacies of the movement that continue to impact the state
of Washington.
Introduction
Seattle, Washington is over 2,000 miles from the U.S.-Mexico border.
While the streets of Seattle may not be lined with Mexican restaurants,
taquerias, tienditas, or Spanish signage, it is the site of an important aspect
of the Mexican American experience in the United States—the fight
for equality and opportunity. The opportunities created by courageous
and devoted activists in the state of Washington propelled many Mexican
American students towards success and a promising future for themselves
and their children. I am one of those children. My parents, Epifanio and
Norma Elizondo, joined other Mexican American students in paying forward
the opportunities that they were given as they joined the fight for
equality in education, healthcare, and the fields of Washington State. I
always knew that my family had been part of the stream of migrant farm
workers, but I had never understood that our experience was common. I
perceived our extended family’s presence in Washington State to be some
kind of isolated incident. All that I had learned about Mexican Americans
had to do with my home state of Texas or the state with the largest concentration
of Mexican Americans--California. Farm worker activist César
Chávez, the undisputed national hero for Mexican Americans, has a holiday
in California, was posthumously awarded the Presidential Medal of
Freedom, and has appeared on a United States postage stamp. However,
farm worker and education activists in the state of Washington are virtually
absent from the nationally known story of the Mexican American experience.
There is no Tomás Villanueva holiday, no Ricardo García postage
stamp, and no Rogelio Riojas Elementary School. Even outside of the
realm of common knowledge, Mexican Americans in Washington State
have been excluded. F. Arturo Rosales’s Testimonio: A Documentary History
of the Mexican American Struggle for Civil Rights does not mention
the state of Washington even once as a hub for activism and the fight for
equality. 1 Dr. Rodolfo Acuña’s renowned textbook, Occupied America,
1 Rosales, F. Arturo. Testimonio: A Documentary History of the Mexican American Struggle
for Civil Rights. 1 ed. Houston: Arte Público, 2000.
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makes a one-sentence mention of Mexican Americans in Washington State
competing for jobs. 2 Dr. Erasmo Gamboa, the foremost, and perhaps the
only formally recognized, historian of Mexican Americans in Washington
State, has addressed this obscurity in his work, saying, “Northwest Chicanos
are commonly overlooked in the general discourse among historians
and other scholars interested in the Chicano-Latino experience.” 3 Gamboa’s
assertion is certainly obvious given the dearth of literature pertaining
to Mexican Americans in the state of Washington. With this in mind, I
chose to embark on a project which would allow me to fill in some of these
gaps that, even as a member of a Mexican American family who made
their home in Washington, I had not realized existed. I decided that conducting
oral interviews was the best way to be true to those who had lived
and made the history of Mexican Americans off the border. I conducted a
total of 21 interviews in Seattle, Burlington, Olympia, Granger, Wapato,
Toppenish, and Pasco. Here are their stories.
For almost all of my interviewees, the story starts in south Texas. The
overwhelming majority was born to farm worker families in the Rio
Grande Valley and surrounding areas and was raised picking cotton and
other crops to help make ends meet. Although south Texas meant a home
close to relatives throughout Texas and Mexico, poor race relations and
the availability of more work in “El Norte” pushed many families to reconsider
their residence in Texas. Interviewee Norma Calderón Elizondo
recalled her childhood working in the fields in Donna, Texas:
I didn’t remember seeing it as a racial thing. I remember
seeing it as a money thing--which they [the white
children] were swimming because they had money and
we were picking cotton because we didn’t have money.
That’s kind of how I remember seeing it until I saw the
sign at the Valverde swimming pool that said “No Mexicans
Allowed” and then I began to see it a little bit differently
than I saw it before. That it wasn’t so much a money
thing. Maybe it was more of a Mexican-White thing,
Mexican-bolillo, 4 gringo thing. Yeah, that was kind of
2 Acuña, Rodolfo. Occupied America: A History of Chicanos. 7 ed. New York: Longman,
2011.Acuña, Rodolfo. Occupied America: A History of Chicanos. 7 ed. New York: Longman,
2011.
3 Gamboa, Erasmo. “Chicanos in the Pacific Northwest: Expanding the Discourse.” America’s
Review 23, no. 3 (1995): 15-25.
4 Slang for a white person
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my first exposure to it, I think. But before that, I always
thought it was a money thing. I thought that’s why they
got to do things we didn’t get to do.
Norma’s older sister, Rosa María Calderón Espinoza, described the phenomenon
of mass migration to “El Norte”:
Yes, when we lived in the barrio growing up as young
children, we always heard the people talk about going to
El Norte. And, you would see some of the houses boarded
up, and we all knew what that meant--that ya se fueron
para El Norte. 5 We didn’t know much about the states
as young children, but we did hear them talk about Ohio,
Michigan, Indiana, Kansas, and our neighbors--like the
third house from my grandmother’s house--they boarded
up their house and they went for several months. You
could see the houses in the neighborhood that were boarded
up, and you knew that people had gone to work in the
field up North, El Norte.
Soon after witnessing the departures of these families, the Calderón family
found themselves entering the migrant stream. Their parents, Otila and
Alfonso, rode to Washington in the back of a truck with a contratista, or
labor contractor, who had encouraged them to come to Toppenish, Washington,
where they worked in the asparagus fields in the Yakima Valley.
Although some families returned to Texas during the winter as part of the
migratory cycle, a large number of them made Washington their permanent
home. Historian Dr. Erasmo Gamboa spoke of his family’s intentions
to return to Texas, and their ultimate decision to stay in the emerging
Mexican American community in Washington instead.
We stopped migrating at the beginning of the 1950s; and
we had a home on my mother’s side. But, we kept our
home in Edinburg [Texas] until about 1970. We kept paying
property taxes. The idea was that we would someday
go back, but we never went back. After 1947, we never
lived in Texas again. We visited one time as a family in
1950, and my father went to add a kitchen to the house
thinking that someday he would go back, but we never
5 “They have gone up North.”
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went back as a family after 1947. So, we stayed here.
The family grew. It was a cluster of the same people
from the same area of the Valley in Texas. They used
to call Granger “Little Edinburg,” Edinburgo, because
there were so many people, they were the same families.
A lot of the people that came from the Valley first came
to the area around Granger, and, from there, they went
to Sunnyside, Grandview, some to Prosser, Wapato, and
Toppenish.
Dr. Gamboa, like many of his peers, continued to perform farm and
agricultural work, including work in a mint distillery in eastern Washington.
Fellow migrant Esteban Zambrano also worked in the mint distillation
process, a job that he much preferred to the traditional farm labor of picking
cherries, grapes, and other fruit. Zambrano’s work continued until he
graduated from high school, at which point he was faced with difficult decisions
about his future. Most of the people I interviewed graduated from
high school in the late 1960s and early 1970s and so were all too familiar
with the death and destruction that the Vietnam War had brought to their
friends and neighbors. Esteban Zambrano was drafted and initially thought
he was going into the military, but the intervention of family friend and
activist Samuel Martinez convinced him otherwise. Zambrano said:
I was going to join the service, because I was drafted, and
most of my friends from Texas that graduated, as a matter
of fact, out of the graduating class, I think about 63 of my
friends were lost in Vietnam from the group that I was going
to school with in the 7 th grade ... Sam Martinez’s mom
and dad lived right next door to us. That’s how Sam knew
of my family and so throughout the years they became
close friends. [He told me that] this program was developing
because of the Civil Rights Movement, not just at the
University of Washington, but at colleges throughout the
United States. Sam came over and said, “Hey, what are
you going to do after?” I said, “Well, I got drafted, so I
don’t have much of a choice.” “No, no, no,” he said. So
he continued talking to me and so he sent Luis [Gamboa]
with all the paperwork for financial aid, and admissions,
and todo eso. 6 He said, “We’re going to have a Chicano
Week orientation, and we want you to come up there.”
6 Todo eso is “all of that.”
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Zambrano traveled to Seattle and took part in Chicano Week, La Semana
de la Raza, where he conversed with Mexican American migrant worker
Rogelio Riojas, who had also been drawn to the University of Washington
by eastern Washington activists. Riojas had plans to play football at a
community college in the Columbia Basin region but decided instead to
attend the University, with the encouragement of some Mexican American
students who had come to eastern Washington to recruit Mexican Americans
who had recently graduated from high school. Riojas said of the
recruiters and his subsequent decision to go to Seattle:
They told us there were opportunities at the University
of Washington; that it was a good school; that they had
Lander Hall--a Chicano hall; that we could survive academically
at the University of Washington if we worked
hard and were interested; that we should apply. Sounded
like a pretty good idea to me. Back then, these were the
choices for me in 1969: either get drafted if you didn’t go
to school--Vietnam War at that time was at its peak. A
lot of the Latino kids that were graduating were getting
drafted for the military, and a lot of the white kids were
going to school, either to a university or to a community
college, and they were getting deferments. While I was
growing up, I really didn’t know that much about the
Chicano movement or even about the Civil Rights Movement,
but I did know enough to tell me that things were
not right in the country as it pertained to minority people.
Even though I was not very educated in that area, I knew
enough, and was wise enough, to know that there were
some opportunities at the University of Washington that I
should take advantage of.
Recruiting visits like the one that precipitated Riojas’s and others’ decision
to attend the University of Washington began in 1968, when the Black
Student Union at the University of Washington, and their president, Larry
Gossett, demanded a change in what they deemed an “institutionally racist
place.” Mr. Gossett, a current member of the King County Council,
described the Black Student Union’s findings:
There were only 63 black students out of 32,000 students.
There were only four Latino students out of 32,000. There
were only two Native American students out of 32,000.
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And we found only two associate professors that were African-American
on the entire campus of the University of
Washington. We found that of the 500 academic advisors
throughout the University, not a one was a person of color--Asian,
black, Latino, or Native American. We found
that of the 3,200 classes offered in the humanities and arts
college, which is all the humanities, liberal arts studies,
that there was not one book being used in any class on Latino,
black, Native American, or Asian cultures, not only
of the U.S., but of the world. And not any books written
by, or about, people of color in that college. And we
couldn’t even find an article that was being used that had
been written by a person of color in any class during the
previous quarter, so we said this University has to change.
In order to initiate the change that they had in mind, Gossett and other
members of the Black Student Union staged a sit-in in then-University
president Dr. Charles Odegaard’s office, where they insisted on five basic
demands, including the initiation of the Equal Opportunity Program
(EOP), and negotiated with the University’s faculty senate for the implementation
of programs to meet these demands. One of these initiatives
was the recruitment of minority students from eastern Washington, especially
the Yakima Valley.
As the number of Mexican American students increased as a result
of organized and word-of-mouth recruitment efforts, students formed
the organization Movimiento Estudiantil Chicano de Aztlán, or MEChA.
MEChA became the driving force for Chicano activism on campus, with
members leading the charge in protests, petitions, and boycotts. Member
Rogelio Riojas described the importance of MEChA’s activities:
We petitioned the University to get more faculties. That
was one of the major accomplishments that we were able
to do. We had sit-ins at the president’s office. We took
over buildings. We were semi-radical. We did some stuff
that got people’s attention. As a result of that, we were
able to gain some momentum and get some faculty, which
was one of the big focuses that MEChA had. And a byproduct
of that was to do the grape boycott with César
Chávez. The majority of us could relate to him.
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Activists in Washington reached a consensus that the grape boycott was
integral to their success as an organization and that it could help establish
working relationships among racial groups on campus. Because Mexican
Americans were in the extreme minority on campus, it was essential to
build coalitions among students in order to perpetuate their cause. The
socially conscious climate of this era was helpful in uniting students for
the end goal of justice for farm workers in the workplace. Students voted
on issues in their residence halls, and so non-Union grapes were eliminated
as an option in all in-house dining facilities. The HUB, or Husky Union
Building, the University’s student center, was one of the last places on campus
that was still selling non-Union grapes. Since students had no control
over the HUB’s dining options, they approached the problem with a boycott.
Activists stood outside the building and offered their fellow students
hamburgers and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for low prices, or even
for free, as an incentive to deprive the HUB of business. As a result of organizing,
picketing, and boycotting, the University of Washington became
the first college in the United States to completely eliminate non-Union
grapes from their campus. Former graduate student, teaching assistant,
and activist Jesus “Profe” Rodriguez said that these events were not just
for informing non-Chicano students, but also for recruiting fellow Chicano
students to participate more actively in the protest process. He said:
If there were people that we knew, we would say “Hey,
let me take you out for a drink, or let me take you out
for a hamburger or whatever.” Then the hard part is when
we actually sit in and get arrested. Sometimes we tricked
them. I tricked Raul Anaya and some other people. I
said “Hey come on, let’s go to a meeting.” “What kind
of meeting?” “Well, we’re just going to meet with the
president of the University.” “What are you going to talk
about?” “Oh, don’t worry about it, it’s just going to be
about grapes or lettuce or something like that.” “Are you
sure?” “Oh yeah, no big deal.”... And they throw us in
jail. And some of those guys got mad at me. They said
“Profe! You got me in trouble, man!” I said “Look, it’s for
La Causa, 7 man, it’s not a big deal.”
7 Literally meaning “The Cause,” the term La Causa was used by those in the Chicano
movement to speak collectively about their goals and struggles to achieve them.
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Run-ins with the police and jail time were not at all foreign to activists at
the University of Washington, as many participated in sit-ins and protests
that were subject to police surveillance. Occupation of the president’s office,
sit-ins in academic building Padelford Hall, and other protests around
Seattle all resulted in police interference and arrests of activists. One sitin
that bore particular significance on community inclusivity for Mexican
Americans in Seattle was the occupation of the Beacon Hill School,
which eventually became El Centro de La Raza. 8 One of the founders of
El Centro, the late Roberto Maestas, sought out the building as a place
of welcome for Mexican Americans and all members of the community.
Maestas, a graduate student from New Mexico, taught English as a Second
Language (ESL) classes at Seattle Central Community College. 9 There,
administrators discriminated against him and scolded him for speaking
Spanish--even though that was a requirement for his job--and so Maestas
made the decision to leave the college and establish a community center
that was inclusive for all of the people of Seattle. In October of 1972,
Maestas and a delegation of students from the University of Washington,
many of whom were involved in MEChA, as well as the Chicano activist
group the Brown Berets, began a three-month occupation of the school
after city officials allowed them to explore the building as a potential
property for their community center. Although the occupation was not
always peaceful, as some conflicts arose among the large concentration
of students, activists met the ultimate goal of obtaining the building. City
officials finally agreed to rent the building to Maestas and his delegation
for $1 a year, and El Centro de La Raza was born. El Centro still remains
a fixture in the Seattle community today as a tribute to the efforts of students
from the University of Washington who envisioned it as not just a
center for Mexican Americans, “La Raza,” but as a center for all people.
University of Washington graduate and former activist Dr. Norma Zavala
talked about her experience with El Centro de La Raza in the present day:
8 The name of El Centro de La Raza literally translates to “The Center of the Race.”
9 Roberto Maestas was one of a few University of Washington students participating in the
movement to come from New Mexico. “Manitos,” as they called themselves, were also
integral to the success of the movement. Dental student Sidney Gallegos and doctoral candidate
Antonio Sánchez were especially involved in efforts to expand access to healthcare
around Seattle.
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I’ve always seen it as a place where the culture’s been.
I was at a wedding there--a Native American wedding.
Later on, I’ve always looked at it as an educational institution
because of the classes. My own children have gone
there and taken classes. I take my granddaughter back.
So, I look at it that way. I definitely know and admire that
they’re advocates for the community.
Dr. Zavala was also part of a sub-movement of El Movimiento which utilized
fine art as protest and activism. The theatre troupe El Teatro del
Piojo was not only a tool of activism on the campus of the University
of Washington, but it was also a vital link to the greater Seattle community
as well as communities in the Yakima Valley, a region from which
many student activists hailed. An offshoot of playwright Luis Valdez’s
(best known for his 1978 play, Zoot Suit) Teatro Campesino--theatre of the
farm worker, El Teatro del Piojo put on performances that were relevant
to Mexican American life in Washington and representative of the struggle
that many encountered. The unique moniker, literally meaning “the
theatre of the louse,” is an ironic play on the disparaging treatment that
Mexican American children received in school. Teachers checked them
for lice, perpetuating the stigma of being a “dirty Mexican.” Teatro directors
Tomás Ybarra-Frausto and Ruben Sierra turned this stigma on its head
and used it to mock these same teachers, administrators, and other wouldbe
oppressors. The group performed skits which included dramatizations
like someone dressed as the Grim Reaper bearing the words “Sistema Educativo,”
or “educational system,” and carried signs that said “Chale con el
draft!” 10 More realistic portrayals of situations inside the classrooms resounded
with members of the community. Teatro member Adrian Moroles
described a skit in which the group acted out the all too familiar scenario
of teachers Americanizing Mexican American students’ names:
Epi [Elizondo] was the teacher. He’d go around and say,
“What’s your name?” “Roberto.” “Okay, your name is
now Bobby.” “Ernesto.” “Your name is now Ernie.” “Maria
Dolores del Rio, your name is now Mary Pains of the
River.” “What is your name?” “Casimira Flores.” “Your
10 Loosely translated, “Quit with the draft!”
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name is now I Almost See Flowers.” 11 It was really funny,
you know, because that happened to all of us. When you
go to South Texas, the first thing they do in elementary
school is change your name. So, you have all this confusion
going on within you about how you’re ashamed of
your background. That’s the way it happened. It was a
matter of raising the consciousness of the community and
giving us pride.
Instilling this pride was essential to the sense of community on which
the Chicano movement was built. The Teatro was particularly integral
in creating this sense of community across the state, so as to maintain the
vital connection between eastern and western Washington. Although the
regions were very different in terms of infrastructure and priorities, the
two are inextricably involved. The Teatro del Piojo was not only a form of
entertainment and cultural display when it traveled to the Yakima Valley, it
also served as a recruiting tool for more student activists. Former MEChA
president Epifanio Elizondo joined the Teatro because they needed someone
to play the guitar. He became a part of the troupe after seeing them
in his hometown of Granger and soon followed them to the University
of Washington where he enrolled as a student, even deciding to pursue a
degree in drama and continuing his involvement with the Teatro del Piojo.
On campus, the Teatro called the University of Washington’s Ethnic Cultural
Theatre home. This theatre, along with the nearby Ethnic Cultural
Center, were two more results of the 1968 negotiations led by Larry Gossett
and the Black Student Union. Those two entities are still standing at
the University today, and are even due to be revamped for use by current
and future students. The Ethnic Cultural Center has wings for various
cultural groups, including Mexican Americans. The current contingent of
MEChA has its office there, and murals by former student activist and artist
Emilio Aguayo fill the walls in the room dedicated to Chicano history.
Aguayo’s mural, “Somos Aztlán,” 12 a tribute to the Chicano Movement
and its origins in the mythical Mexican American homeland, Aztlán, has
remained in the cultural center since the 1970s.
11 Intended to be a literal translation of “Casi mira” and “Flores” meaning, “She almost
sees flowers.”
12 Aztlán is the mythical homeland of Chicanos, the concept of which became popular at the
height of El Movimiento as a unifying factor for Mexican Americans. It is presumed to be
in the southwestern United States, as portrayed in the picture.
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“Somos Aztlán” in the UW Ethnic Cultural Center (Personal photo)
Although it is easy to see Seattle and, more specifically, the University
of Washington, as a hub for activist activity and sentiment, its contributions
to the Chicano movement and the fight for rights would have
been impossible without the involvement of individuals from eastern
Washington. The interplay between the two is essential to a complete
understanding of activist goals, activities, and achievement. Western and
eastern Washington are, simply put, inextricably intertwined. A simple
dichotomy can be drawn between urban and rural, but each supported the
other’s causes. The grape boycott serves as a prime example of urban
supporting rural, a symbiosis that makes perfect sense given many of the
Mexican American students’ backgrounds picking grapes and other Washington
crops like hops, asparagus, cherries, and apples. Farm workers in
eastern Washington and around the state found a hero in Tomás Villanueva.
Once hailed by the Yakima Valley Herald as “The César Chávez of
Yakima Valley,” Villanueva was integral to many types of progress around
the state. Born to a Mexican father and a Tejana13 Although it is easy to see Seattle and, more specifically, the University of Washington, as a
hub for activist activity and sentiment, its contributions to the Chicano movement and the fight
for rights would have been impossible without the involvement of individuals from eastern
Washington. The interplay between the two is essential to a complete understanding of activist
goals, activities, and achievement. Western and eastern Washington are, simply put,
inextricably intertwined. A simple dichotomy can be drawn between urban and rural, but each
supported the other’s causes. The grape boycott serves as a prime example of urban supporting
rural, a symbiosis that makes perfect sense given many of the Mexican American students’
backgrounds picking grapes and other Washington crops like hops, asparagus, cherries, and
apples. Farm workers in eastern Washington and around the state found a hero in Tomás
Villanueva. Once hailed by the Yakima Valley Herald as “The César Chávez of Yakima
Valley,” Villanueva was integral to many types of progress around the state. Born to a Mexican
father and a Tejana
mother, he worked
as a farm worker in Texas and Ohio before arriving in Washington like
13 “Somos Aztlán” in the UW Ethnic Cultural Center (Personal photo)
mother, he worked as a farm worker in Texas and Ohio before arriving in
Washington like most of his contemporaries. He held many jobs doing manual labor and
encountered many situations of injustice that instilled in him a fighting spirit. Villanueva looked
back on one encounter in particular as a catalyst for his devotion to social justice. While
working as a heavy equipment operator on the railroad in Metolius, Oregon, he was ordered to
tear down the house of an elderly man who had been deemed a disturbance to the town.
Villanueva refused because following the orders he had been given would leave the man
homeless. When he reported to the elderly man that he was quitting his job, the man encouraged
Villanueva not to quit as leaving would only result in unemployment for Tomás, and the
company would surely hire someone else to tear down the house anyway. Villanueva agreed and
13
A Texan of Mexican descent.
13 A Texan of Mexican descent.
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most of his contemporaries. He held many jobs doing manual labor and
encountered many situations of injustice that instilled in him a fighting
spirit. Villanueva looked back on one encounter in particular as a catalyst
for his devotion to social justice. While working as a heavy equipment
operator on the railroad in Metolius, Oregon, he was ordered to tear down
the house of an elderly man who had been deemed a disturbance to the
town. Villanueva refused because following the orders he had been given
would leave the man homeless. When he reported to the elderly man
that he was quitting his job, the man encouraged Villanueva not to quit as
leaving would only result in unemployment for Tomás, and the company
would surely hire someone else to tear down the house anyway. Villanueva
agreed and leveled the house as the man stood on a mound of dirt and
watched him. When the job was done, the mayor of Metolius came out to
the site and congratulated Villanueva on a job well done. Tomás Villanueva
turned to the mayor and hit him. Villanueva spoke of that experience
and the promise that he made afterwards saying, “I decided that I would
never be in a position where someone made me do something that I don’t
feel is right. I think I have kept that promise.” One way that he kept that
promise was through his activism. Being no strangers to the plight of the
farm worker, he and close friend Lupe Gamboa, a classmate at Yakima
Valley Community College, decided to investigate activist César Chávez’s
efforts to bring justice to farm work. Villanueva and Gamboa drove to
Delano, California, in the summer of 1966 and arrived at the doorstep of
the United Farm Workers (UFW) headquarters, a house which was much
less grand than they had initially imagined for such a well-known operation.
The two men knocked on the door and were surprised to be greeted
by César Chávez himself. Not knowing it was he initially, they asked to
speak with Chávez, and he identified himself and asked what Villanueva
and Gamboa were doing there. They told him that they had come to see
firsthand what the United Farm Workers and Chávez were doing, so César
Chávez extended an offer to the men to work with him in Delano for two
weeks to experience the life of a union organizer. Their job was to ride the
buses that transported farm workers to the fields and infiltrate the growers
who were bringing scabs into the fields to replace striking UFW workers.
Gamboa and Villanueva were successful in identifying the source of the
replacement workers which enabled the UFW to take action. After receiving
invaluable advice from César Chávez, Tomás Villanueva and Lupe
Gamboa returned to the Yakima Valley with a renewed sense of activism
and efficacy in the community. Chávez said to the pair, “You know, you
have all these community action programs, people who want to do something
for farm workers. They’re never going to change that unless farm
workers want to do it themselves. They have to be part of the solution.”
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Cesár Chávez (left) and Tomás Villanueva
Cesár Chávez (left) and Tomás Villanueva
(Photo from Tomás Villanueva’s personal collection)
(Photo from Tomás Villanueva’s personal collection)
illanueva took Villanueva Chávez’s took wisdom Chávez’s to heart, wisdom and to decided heart, and to decided take his to activism take his a step beyo
ly knocking activism on doors a step and beyond surveying simply people knocking about on doors what they and surveying felt needed people to be done in
munity to about promote what equality. they felt needed He created to be done the in United the community Farm Workers to promote Co-Op equal- in the Yaki
ey, a place ity. of He advocacy created the to defend United Farm farm Workers workers Co-Op against in unfair the Yakima labor Valley, practices. a He ask
bers of the place community of advocacy to buy to defend into the farm cooperative, workers against or cooperativa, unfair labor practices. for $5.00 a share,
surprisingly
He
successful,
asked members
bringing
of the
in
community
around $10,000
to buy
to
into
open
the
a
cooperative,
store as part
or
of
co-
the co-op. T
operativa, for $5.00 a share, and was surprisingly successful, bringing in
became a prime example of rural supporting urban, as Villanueva allowed students w
around $10,000 to open a store as part of the co-op. This store became a
attending, or planning to attend, the University of Washington in Seattle to work for him
prime example of rural supporting urban, as Villanueva allowed students
co-op. Students participated in a work-study program in which the University paid half
who were attending, or planning to attend, the University of Washington in
wages that the cooperativa offered them to work in the store and as social activists in
Seattle to work for him at the co-op. Students participated in a work-study
ey. Although
program
the store
in which
was
the
short
University
on money,
paid
Villanueva
half of the wages
was very
that
generous
the coopera-
with the stude
ng them well tiva over offered the them minimum to work wage in the at store the and time. as social The program activists in was the a Valley. success, enablin
tantial number of Mexican American students from the Valley to attend college in Sea
ugh the partnership that Villanueva’s co-op forged with the University’s Black Stud
n, which organized the effort. Villanueva 28 estimates that the work-study continued for th
s, with 13 students coming to work each year.

Although the store was short on money, Villanueva was very generous
with the students, paying them well over the minimum wage at the time.
The program was a success, enabling a substantial number of Mexican
American students from the Valley to attend college in Seattle through
the partnership that Villanueva’s co-op forged with the University’s Black
Student Union, which organized the effort. Villanueva estimates that the
work-study continued for three years, with 13 students coming to work
each year.
Though the cooperativa was an effective method of organizing farm
workers with a central goal and investment, Tomás Villanueva also became
heavily involved in other efforts to organize. In 1969, 1970, and
1971, he became involved in agricultural strikes around the state, and was
elected the president of the United Farm Workers of Washington State.
Villanueva was also involved in the formation of the local farm worker
radio station, KDNA, located in Granger, Washington. Villanueva’s good
friend Ricardo García was the founder of the station, which termed itself
“La Voz del Campesino,” the Voice of the Farm Worker. García, the director
of Northwest Rural Opportunities, a series of programs for farm
workers in Washington State, began doing radio broadcasts for farm workers
in northwest Washington and so was familiar with the impact that radio
could have. During his time in that region, García met activists Julio
César Guerrero and Dan Roble, who told him of a radio program, “Jardín
de los Niños,” 14 in Michigan that had been effective in informing and
organizing farm workers. García, Guerrero, Roble, and another activist
named Jorge Chacón began training farm workers to broadcast programs
for their new radio station. The group then decided to move to Seattle in
order to access the equipment necessary to expand their scope of influence.
“Hippie-controlled” radio station KRAB, which was broadcasting
out of an old fire station in Seattle, agreed to let García and the other men
use their connection to broadcast their bilingual programs. The only obstacle
was that the broadcast was accessible only to those who had a special
radio receiver. García formed a plan to buy 100 radio receivers, sell
them to restaurants and different business establishments around town,
and then buy more with the money that they made from the sale of the first
100. His plan was not necessarily successful, but their work at KRAB was
fruitful nonetheless. Guerrero and Roble were able to produce a national
Spanish-language news broadcast that was the first of its kind. The radio
organizers decided, however, that their message might be more effective
14 “Jardín de los Niños” literally translates to “Garden of the Children.”
29
Off the Border

The University of Alabama McNair Journal
and better received in the Yakima Valley, a region which was reliant on
farm work and had an abundance of workers. Ricardo García spoke of the
decision to move to the Yakima Valley and the establishment of the radio
station there.
We soon said, “The farm workers are in Yakima. What
are we doing in Seattle? So, let’s apply for a license.” So,
we applied for a license with the help of a retired FCC
lawyer that was living in Seattle--Mr. Nash. He was a retired
viejito. 15 He said, “I’ll help you, Ricardo, but you
have to promise to take me to California to meet César
Chávez.” I said, “Yeah, we’ll do that.” He had been an
FCC judge, so he knew how it worked. He submitted the
application. You have to prove to the FCC that you have
money to sustain a radio station for one year. “Do you
have the money?” “Yeah, we have the money.” “How
are you going to sustain it?” “Well, we are going to have
fundraisers, sell tamales, and have fiestas.” And, they
bought it. Before you knew it, we had a permit to construct
a radio station. That was like in ’78. It took us a
whole year of organizing the community to help us go to
the mountain, get a lease with the Yakama Nation 16 for a
piece of land over on the ridge as you go out of Yakima.
The antennas are there. We rented power drills--because
it’s all rock over there--to set the guidelines for the tower.
We purchased a second used radio tower that was 80 feet
tall. Somehow, we learned how to put it together. We
put it together with the help of some radio experts. We
bought a used transmitter from a Spokane radio station
and we took it up to the mountain and located it. After
so many weeks, we did hire an engineer. We needed
that kind of expertise. We were going to go on the air on
September 16, Dieciseis de Septiembre, 17 for the Mexicanos.
It didn’t work. The next date, Doce de octubre, el
15 Viejito is an old man.
16 The Yakama nation is the local Indian nation that owns land around the Yakima Valley.
17 Mexican Independence Day.
30

December, the guy said, “Everything’s ready, throw the switch on,” and we went
on the air at noon, December 19, 1979. So, that’s already 30 years, Off the going Border
on 31.
día when Columbus discovers America, we couldn’t do
it. The next date, el día de Guadalupana, doce de diciembre,
18 ía applied for the call letters KDNA and was granted usage of them because the previo
r of those letters had violated Federal Communications Commission guidelines and w
ed of them. The owners of that station appealed to García to cease usage of the letters, b
as adamant about keeping we’re them going because to go on the of airwaves. their significance. We couldn’t Phonetically, do KDNA
ounced “cadena,” it. which Before is we the knew Spanish it, on the word 19th for of December, “chain,” showing the guy the significance
unity links; the radio said, station “Everything’s was one ready, of those throw important the switch links on,” and in the we chain of the Mexic
rican community. went The on radio the air broadcast at noon, December bilingually 19, 1979. and provided So, that’s the community w
rtant announcements,
already
such
30
as
years,
how
going
to access
on 31.
resources to seek legal status for those fa
ers who were Mexican immigrants. Encouragement to vote, organize, and mobilize w
García applied for the call letters KDNA and was granted usage of them
al to the station’s mission as well. The station still remains in Granger, Washingto
because the previous owner of those letters had violated Federal Commu-
ng an image of the inspiration for its origins--the farm worker.
nications Commission guidelines and was stripped of them. The owners
of that station appealed to García to cease usage of the letters, but he was
The exterior of radio station KDNA in Granger, Washington
The exterior of radio station KDNA in Granger, Washington (Personal photo)
(Personal photo)
xican Independence Day.
feast of the Virgen de Guadalupe, an important religious figure in Mexican culture.
15 The feast of the Virgen de Guadalupe, an important religious figure in Mexican culture.
31

The University of Alabama McNair Journal
adamant about keeping them because of their significance. Phonetically,
KDNA is pronounced “cadena,” which is the Spanish word for “chain,”
showing the significance of community links; the radio station was one of
those important links in the chain of the Mexican American community.
The radio broadcast bilingually and provided the community with important
announcements, such as how to access resources to seek legal status
for those farm workers who were Mexican immigrants. Encouragement
to vote, organize, and mobilize was central to the station’s mission as well.
The station still remains in Granger, Washington, bearing an image of the
inspiration for its origins--the farm worker.
Much of the farm worker activism in Washington State, and around
the country, stemmed from the belief that farm workers had the right to
remain safe and healthy in the workplace. Beyond fighting to ensure farm
workers were not exposed to dangerous working conditions such as an
abundance of pesticides and tools which were known to cause fatal injuries,
community activists acknowledged the necessity of a healthcare
facility to care for these workers, regardless of their ability to pay or to
communicate with English-speaking doctors and other healthcare providers.
Western Washington’s answer to this need was the SeaMar Community
Health Centers, initially located in Seattle. Students at the University
of Washington, as well as those involved in the Northwest Chicano Health
Organization (NCHO), identified the need for a health care facility that
would cater to the underserved population in the Seattle area and formed
a committee to organize such a clinic in 1977. The founders settled on the
name SeaMar to represent the two clinics that they initially intended to
have, one in Seattle, and one in Marysville, approximately 40 miles north
of Seattle. In 1978, the committee wrote a grant to obtain the funding
necessary to secure a location for the initial clinic in South Park, Seattle.
A retiring doctor offered the committee a reasonable price for the purchase
of his clinic, and so the first facility was established. Dr. Sidney Gallegos,
a pediatric dentist who came to the University of Washington from New
Mexico to attend dental school, was one of the founding fathers of the
organization. He spoke of the decision to hire former University of Washington
student activist Rogelio Riojas as the director of SeaMar:
When I was on the board in 1978, we began to look for
a director. He was finishing his internship at a clinic up
in Wenatchee. We began to look at candidates and I said,
“Here’s a great candidate!” So, we looked at him, and we
interviewed him, and we hired him. Ever since then, he’s
been the director. But, he’s a great director. He’s done a
wonderful job with that organization.
32

Under Riojas’s leadership, SeaMar has expanded to 56 facilities, with over
1,500 employees, and has received national recognition. The organization
has also returned to its roots by granting numerous scholarships to farm
worker students who plan to attend college.
The need for a farm workers clinic in eastern Washington was just as
pressing, if not more pressing, than the need that brought about SeaMar.
Tomás Villanueva was integral in yet another community program when
he established the Yakima Valley Farm Workers Clinic. Villanueva began
involvement with the Center for Community Change in Washington, D.C.,
and went on to become a member of the advisory board. He was able to
receive some funding from the Center, as well as assistance in writing the
proposal for the clinic and transportation to Washington, D.C., to lobby.
Through his involvement with the Center for Community Change, Villanueva
met Senator Warren Magnuson, a Democrat from Washington State.
Senator Magnuson had a high level of influence in the Senate Appropriations
Committee, and so was able to secure funding for the clinic from the
United States Department of Health, Education, and Welfare (now Health
and Human Services). However, the path was not completely clear to establish
the clinic. Congresswoman Catherine May, the representative from
the district that included the Yakima Valley, opposed the formation of a
healthcare facility for farm workers and called a meeting to assess community
reaction to such a proposal. Tomás Villanueva described the hearing:
Everybody was just blasting us down--[saying] that there
was no need for it. Nobody from the agricultural industry
went except for one guy--Ed Wilmuth. He was the head
honcho for Del Monte Corporation, which in those times
was the biggest employer of farm workers in the entire
Yakima Valley, with asparagus. But I knew when you put
him in the position to talk, he just talked out of his mouth.
He never put his brain into use. I said, “Mr. Wilmuth,
it seems like everybody is talking about the need or not
need for the health clinic, and none of you guys have any
direct interest in it. You run the biggest crew in the state
of Washington farm workers. What’s your opinion?” He
just got up--he’s a big guy--and said, “Oh, farm workers
don’t need a clinic. All they need is a box of aspirin; they
have pretty strong backs.”
33
Off the Border

The University of Alabama McNair Journal
Wilmuth’s answer to the question polarized many and effectively ended
the debate. Congresswoman May withdrew her opposition which lifted
the roadblocks. The clinic was established and, like SeaMar, is still in
existence. In order to keep funding and perpetuate the clinic’s existence,
however, Tomás Villanueva had to depoliticize the clinic’s mission. His
initial vision was for the clinic as a place of advocacy and empowerment
for farm workers as well as a healthcare facility, but with so much community
opposition to César Chávez’s farm worker movement and strikes
against local business, something that Villanueva was heavily tied to, he
made the difficult decision to focus on healthcare alone. The system of
clinics has expanded to twenty locations, including three in Oregon. Although
he is still somewhat uncomfortable with his decision, Villanueva
attributes the clinics’ longevity and proliferation to the separation of activism
and healthcare.
The establishment of healthcare facilities that cater to the underserved
emerges as a tangible, lasting legacy of the Chicano Movement in the state
of Washington. Involvement in boycotts, protests, and the struggle for
educational equality were consistent for Mexican Americans across the
country, but these nationally recognized facilities continue to give to those
most in need of their care. For those asking why Washington’s story is
different from that of California or Texas, the answer lies in these legacies.
Student and farm worker activists went beyond the standard and maintained
connections across the state and among communities that strengthened
not just the Mexican American population, but the state of Washington
as a whole. Many Washingtonians know the story well. Tomás
Villanueva said of his reputation and the reputation of his fellow activists,
“Everybody knows we are giants except for us.” However, not everyone
knows, and that is the crux of this project. The omission of this story of
strength, courage, and persistence from not just the canon of Chicano history,
but of American history as well, is a grave injustice to the hard work
and accomplishments of those who worked for social justice and change
in the state of Washington.
34

Acknowledgments
This project is dedicated to those who worked tirelessly to improve
life for Mexican Americans not just in their own communities but across
the country. Their inspiration Acknowledgments drove me to see this project through, and it
is my sincere hope that I have honored their accomplishments. The list of
This project people is dedicated I interviewed to those is as who follows. worked tirelessly to improve life for Mexican
mericans not just in their own communities but across the country. Their inspiration drove me
see this project through, Raul Anaya and it is my sincere hope that I have honored their accomplishments.
he list of people I interviewed Otila L. Calderón is as follows.
Antonio Daniel
aul Anaya Norma Calderón Elizondo, R.N.
tila L. Calderón
RADM Epifanio Elizondo, Ph.D.
ntonio Daniel
orma Calderón Elizondo,
Rosa María
R.N.
Calderón Espinoza
ADM Epifanio Elizondo, Ricardo Ph.D. García
osa María Calderón Arnoldo Espinoza García
icardo García Sidney Gallegos, D.D.S.
rnoldo García Erasmo Gamboa, Ph.D.
dney Gallegos, D.D.S. Larry Gossett
rasmo Gamboa, Ph.D. Enrique Morales
arry Gossett Genoveva Morales
nrique Morales
Adrian Moroles
enoveva Morales
Alejandro Narvaez, D.D.S.
drian Moroles
lejandro Narvaez, Rogelio D.D.S. Riojas
ogelio Riojas Jesus “Profe” Rodriguez
sus “Profe” Rodriguez Antonio Sánchez, Ph.D.
ntonio Sánchez Tomás Villanueva
omás Villanueva Esteban Zambrano
steban Zambrano Norma Zavala, Ph.D.
orma Zavala, Ph.D.
35
Off the Border
Ricardo García and Tomás Villanueva in 2005,
Ricardo García and Tomás Villanueva in 2005, true giants of the movement in Washington
(Photo true from Tomás giants Villanueva’s of the movement personal collection)
in Washington
(Photo from Tomás Villanueva’s personal collection)