The Oregon Story; Agricultural Workers

Funding for production of the Oregon Story was made possible through a generous grant from the United States Department of Agriculture Rural Development. Oh I started way back in Texas. Yeah, and I kinda learned from my grandfather. [Music]. When we came to Oregon, we were the only ones that could do this stuff. So we would go out there, and ask for the haul, you know an-and make a dance, and then that everybody would get to know each other, you know? The girls would come out and ask me to make a dance, you know, because we wanna dress up. The guys have seen us in the field all dirty all the time [laughs].

They were also workers, they were a farm workers. You ready? [Musician] Yes. [Studio recorder] Tape's rolling. [music plays] [music plays] [music plays] [Narrator] Agriculture is a powerful engine of the Oregon economy. And these are the people who make it go. Hired workers who cultivate the fields, harvest crops, and process them for markets, who tend to vineyards, who

drive the vast horticultural trade, And chop Christmas trees. [sound of motor] And, in spite of mechanization and new technologies, much of Oregon agriculture is a very labor intensive business. [music plays] [Man] Agriculture is very, very important to who we are as a country. Unfortunately, the public understands the importance of the farmer but not the farm worker. [Narrator] Perhaps, more than any other group today, these men and women embody the "can do" American work ethic. [Man] They work hard at what they do. They will get up before the crack of dawn to be there. And they'll work as long as it is necessary. They will work seven days a week. [sound of chainsaw] They will not take lunch, because they know that the period to

earn is limited for them. [music plays] They will take their children out into the fields to work. They will put up with working conditions that the rest of us will not put up with. [Narrator] They do the jobs that no one else will. [Man] If agricultural work was as well paid as garbage collection, we would have people, in some cases, standing in line to get these jobs. But it is not. [Narrator] Their work is vital. These people power Oregon agriculture and it would collapse without them. [Man] They are indispensable. [Narrator] Yet their value and their contributions get scant recognition. [Man] They are the forgotten community within the larger farming sector. Out of sight, out of mind, so to speak. [Music, sound of trees rustling] [Narrator] These workers and the families and friends who follow them here are changing the face of

our state. The influx of Mexican and Mexican- American farm workers has triggered a dramatic increase in the Latino population. Hundreds of businesses and services in both urban and rural areas reflect the growing "Latinization" of Oregon. [Woman] That's called the [Spanish words]. And they all have their specialty name. [Narrator] These people bring with them an energetic spirit, a rich history, and a strong devotion to family and community. [music plays, sound of children] [dramatic music] But this growth is shadowed by poverty. Agricultural workers are among the lowest paid members of the American workforce.[dramatic music] Many hardships they faced decades ago still confront them today.

Adjusted for inflation, their wages have actually gone down. And farmworker families still live outside of mainstream society. [Man] It's not an honorable occupation. It's not a respected occupation. It's not a safe occupation. [Narrator] The average Oregon farm worker earns an annual $8,000. He and his family have no health insurance. His children are the most likely to do poorly in school. [Man] I believe that farm workers are an important part of American society, and society has a responsibility to them. Why create and sustain a third world community -- in Oregon? It doesn't make sense to me. [music plays] [Woman] I have been doing farm work since seven-years old. I came to

the United States as a two-year old child. My father was coming to this town [inadubile] before I was born. His dream was to see his family, when he had one, Speak the language of the angels -- which he thought was English. [music plays] [Woman] My father was called by a friend from Edinburg. And he told him we have work in Oregon. You want to come with us? My dad said yes. [Man] When I was working in the fields I used to see the school bus driving by and -- I used to feel kind of sad when I used to see just, a lot of just white kids riding on the bus. And then I look around. And then I used to see [inaudible] Mexican-Americans just working in the fields from sunrise to sunset. [Narrator] The Hispanic character of this workforce is a fairly recent development.

In the years before World War II, Mexican workers were scarce on Oregon farms. An interesting twist of history, given that Mexico is so close. In fact, until the mid-19th century, Mexico was just seven miles south of Ashland. [Man] There were Mexicans everywhere in Oregon. [Narrator] But following the hard fought war with Mexico, which ends in 1848, people of Mexican heritage become unwelcome in these parts. The government promotes settlement and homesteading in Oregon, but the generous land grants are not available to everyone. [Man] Well, you have to be white. Now, do Mexican people qualify as whites? Probably not. Do African Americans qualify as whites? This is the under--side of Oregon history. That tends to-- prevent other groups from establishing themselves. [music plays]

[Narrator] By the 20th century, commercial farming begins to boom here. Rivers are dammed for irrigation, sagebrush desert becomes productive crop land, miles of pipes and canals deliver water to everything from root vegetables to tree fruits. [Man] The economy is transformed. And by the nineteen -- 20s, the 1930s, people are speaking of agribusiness, in fact factories in the fields. This necessitates a very different kind of worker. [Narrator] Agribusiness requires large numbers of workers, too. But early on, the anti-Mexican feelings prevail. [Man] Agriculture relies on incredible numbers of European immigrants that are coming to the United States. Very much Greek, very much Italian, very much Polish. [Narrator] Workers from China, Japan, and the Philippines come, too. But as the need for farm labor increases, Congress is closing the gates on immigration from overseas.

[Man] So what's missing here, in this scheme, is who is going to do -- the work, once Asian immigration is restricted, and European immigration is restricted? [Narrator] American farmers don't have to look far. [Man] There is no-- barrier, or there is no restriction on Mexican immigration. They are needed to replace those groups that are no longer available from Asia and Europe. And at that point they begin to come. [Narrator] By the 1920s the population of Mexican workers in the Northwest is beginning to surge. But the trend is cut short. In 1929, when the stock market crashes. [Man] Then, the Depression. The Depression reverses that flow. In fact, if the Depression had not come along, Oregon would be even more Hispanic today than it is already. [Narrator] In Oregon,

and around the country, Mexican nationals and even Mexican American citizens are expelled, forced to leave their jobs. [Man] There is actually a formal repatriation program and upwards of half a million people are sent back to Mexico. And roughly one half of them are American citizens. Nothing like this has happened to any other group in American history. [Narrator] White migrants from the southern dustbowl States now come to work the fields and orchards of the Northwest, for a few more years at least. [sound of explosion] Until... World War II. Millions of Americans, including migrant workers, are drafted into military service. But the government calls for more farm production than ever, and the farm worker crisis begins. [Man] And, as agriculture begins to search out for laborers, it has to compete with higher paying jobs in the shipbuilding yards;

in the munitions plants. [Narrator] But Oregonians of every walk of life rise to the occasion. [music] Elaborate recruitment campaigns enlist kids and seniors for farm work. The Women's Land Army deploys throughout the state. Japanese-Americans take to the fields of Nyssa, Vale, and Ontario. Even German prisoners of war held in Eastern Oregon camps are called into service - but it's still not enough. [music] The solution is an agreement with Mexico, signed in 1942, that transforms Oregon agriculture, and ultimately Oregon itself forever. It is called the Bracero Program. [Man] Bracero, it literally means someone who works with his arms. They are not immigrants. They are not migrants. They come to the United States for a six-month contract. [Narrator] The Braceros, skilled farm hands, save American agriculture during the war years. More than 15,000 serve in Oregon. But throughout the U.S., the men are often

underpaid and badly treated. Poor working and housing conditions result in many accidents and frequent sickness. Yet, after the war, few Americans want to return to farm work. So several states extend the Bracero programs to continue bringing Mexican workers to the fields. But, with the government no longer paying for transportation, Northwest farmers can hire Mexican American migrants more cheaply. So Oregon abandons the program in 1947. Spanish is still the language of the fields, but now American citizens and legal immigrants, mostly from Texas, become Oregon's agricultural workforce. And there's one more development -- one that will have a dramatic impact on Oregon communities. [Mam] Unlike the Braceros, who come as single men, they are bringing their families, they're bringing their children. [Woman] My sister and I had to work before we went to school, run home, wash up, run to wait for the bus, go to school, come

back, [inaudible] wash clothes, and go to work again. Come back and do homework. [Narrator] By the late 1940s, Oregon is actively recruiting migrant workers from the Southwest. The extension service advises Oregon communities on ways to attract these migrant families. [Man] They sat down once a week, show a Mexican film in the Woodburn theater and you would be surprised what that does to migration, into the community. [Narrator] And, apparently, it all works. [Man] My mother's immigration certificate from Mexico. This is dated June 22nd, 1929, when she crosses the border. This is my father's permission to leave Mexico. And they get married in Texas, have the

family, and then when the call for labor from Oregon reaches Texas, they migrate into the area. And this is essentially how we got to Independence. Independence, Oregon, a few miles west of Salem, has one of the oldest Hispanic communities in the state, dating back to the Bracero years. In the town's Heritage Museum, old high school yearbooks document the evolving population. Sometime in the 1960s, darker faces with Spanish names begin to appear on the pages. [Man] Which really falls in line with the people that came during the Bracero program. If they started families, then it makes sense that their children would then be in the school system and attending high school. [music plays] [Narrator] Independence was an agricultural center famous for its hops, long before the Mexican and Mexican American workers came.

[Man] It was the hop capital of the world. As the photographs indicate, there were all kinds of people. And then I think, for some reason, for a lot of reasons, that work seemed to become looked down upon. But the work still had to continue. Right. And so that's what we have today. [music plays] Very few Anglo American people will do that kind of work. [woman speaking Spanish] [woman speaking Spanish] [Narrator] But Dominga Salinas, like the other members of her family, was willing. [Man] She came from Mission, Texas. She used to wake up very early in the morning and start cleaning around her house, cooking for the family, taking care of the family. And then, after everything was done in the house. then she had to go to the fields to work up 'till sunset. [Narrator] Tony Nuñez hopes to write a book. He left farm work long ago to start a small business and recently. he's begun to compile a history of the Latino people here.

[sound of man speaking] [Narrator] A community history bug has bitten some other local people, too. [Woman speaking] In 1958 - [Woman] They lived in a camp called ?4-D?. [Narrator] The project is called, Exploring Our Heritage. And these folks, with funding from the Oregon Humanities Council, are also gathering stories and old photographs from dozens of Hispanic townspeople. [Sound of people talking] [Man] We came to Oregon because we were working the field in California... [Narrator] A colorful cast of characters and many of their stories could easily be those of other farm workers around the state. [Man] They told us we were being hired to cut asparagus. We didn't even know what asparagus was until we got here. Even when we got here, the asparagus was just barely coming out of the ground. And we used to go and check every third day, see what it looked like. [Narrator] ?Mary and Felix Oliveros? came to Oregon as teenagers from Texas.

[Man] It was very rough. We were very poor and I don't say, starving, but we were poor. And when this offer came, at that time it sounded very nice to my mom. That's why we end up here. I can remember when we worked seven days a week and working 14, 15, 16 hours a day and I only have a little time to come and see my girlfriend at the movies for a couple of hours, an hour and a half or something. But I wasn't -- I was happy. I was not -- Yes, I was tired. You know all the work makes you tired, but I was happy. [Woman] This is my grandmother. My grandmother, oh my gosh, whenever we were out picking, Grandma was at home, by herself, making tamales, to sell tamales. Sometimes we get together now and make tamales between five of us, and we wonder how she ever did it by

herself. This is my grandfather. If we were standing or talking or playing around, kidding around, he would always say, "Okay, start working, move your hands, keep talking, but keep moving your hands." We were very fortunate. Just having my grandparents there, working with us, and everything. They would tell stories about when they were young, stories from Mexico. Here, I have a picture of my little brother, Danny. And he was born with -- I really don't know what it was. He never grew his normal size, but then he was a miracle for us. I guess Danny was the one that really showed us what life was and what love was. [Narrator] ?Mary's and Felix's? families stayed poor, though not from lack of working [Man] At that time, they used to pay us a dollar an hour. If you can work 16 hours,

You make 90, 100 dollars a week. That was good money at that time. [Narrator] Their cabins were in good condition, but not luxurious. Every morning we had to get up and put wood in the stove to keep us warm and do our cooking and everything. [Man] The outhouse, the restrooms, the showers, everything was outside. [Narrator] Yet both of the Oliveros appreciate that time of their lives. [Man] I don't think that [Man] Hard work doesn't hurt anybody. I always told my kids you know that money does not come easy, that they have to work for it. [Woman] And I guess we all wanted something better, and it was there. All we had to do was just go out there and work and get it. [Man] Some of my earliest memories, is from us going out in the fields with my family in the summers. And that work ethic, that my father had always instilled in us, he never gave up.

Just kept working and providing for us. And so when I started painting, I saw this as an opportunity to share that with everyone through my paintings. [Narrator] Felix Jr. is painting a worker in the local bean fields. When the piece is finished he'll donate it as a fundraiser for the Heritage Project. [Woman] Could you tell some story that you remember? [Narrator] ?Elena Farmecio? helps with the project, too. She's a photojournalist from Mexico City who has recently moved to Salem. [Woman] And in that time, it was difficult to cross the border? [Man] Yes. [Woman] Yes? [Man] From across [inaudible] the river. [Narrator] She interviews and photographs people like ?Monserrat?, the bean picker in the painting who came to Oregon years ago in search of work. [Woman] So even if it was really hard work, you always find that time to [Man] Yes. [Woman] to smile and to have a good time with your coworkers. [Man] I'll never get mad for my work.

Sometimes I get mad when you don't pay me but for my work, never feel mad. [Woman] He used to be in the Bracero program, in the beginning, in the Texas area. Way back then, I don't remember how many years, but probably before I was born. [Narrator] Elena is ?Monserrat's? daughter and these buildings, long deserted, were part of a camp called 4-D. She says it's one of the few original camps still standing. [Woman interviewing] In your family, who came first to Oregon? [Woman answering] My dad did that by himself, and checked it out one year, and then he went back. And then we came, well, about four years after that. [Woman interviewing] How many were in your family? [Woman answering] Ten of us. We came here with a contractor from ?Harlingen,? Texas. We came in one of those trucks. [Woman] My idea is to show in Mexico how it's alive here. Because also Mexico has an idealistic idea about how the life of the migrants here.

So that people think then, all the migrants who came here they cannot reached, they cannot have a lot their [inaudible] girlfriends, and they cannot have cars, and all the material -- things that they like to have down there, right? [People talking, sound of film rolling] [Man] Here we go. Rolling again. [music plays] [Woman] Everything started in April. With -- asparagus And then -- the strawberry, and then the pole bean. [Man] The hops. People would comment in the '40s and '50s that you could set your calendar by the arrival and departure of migrant workers. That's very different today. Today, they're not going away. That they're staying in

communities. Oregon has become a home base state for migrants. Where, actually, migrants now migrate to other places, but come back to Oregon to live. [Narrator] In agricultural areas, the local populations still swell and recede with the growing seasons. And, increasingly, workers from out of town come from Mexico. Some travel here directly, while others, like these grafting crews, follow the old migrant streams to Oregon. [Woman] They usually winter in Mexico, and then they do roses in Texas and Southern California, and citrus, and they'll do budding of apples, fruit trees up in Washington. [Narrator] These days, though, there's more year-round work available here. So many people who started out as migrants are staying put. Sometimes working in the fields until the crops are in, and finding jobs in the processing plants and packing sheds for the winter. The nursery industry, which thrives in Oregon, offers many year-round jobs.

And fruit growers manage their trees more intensively than before, requiring lots of off- season pruning and maintenance. Some workers get through the slow months by finding day labor jobs. This Portland street corner is one of the unofficial hiring halls. [sound of people, cars] Many of Oregon's Mexican workers are undocumented. At times, as much as half the agricultural workforce is not authorized to work here. [sound of woman speaking Spanish] [Woman interpreting] She was caught by the Immigration and she was sent to jail and so was her husband, but they crossed third attempt through Tijuana. [Narrator] But even if unauthorized workers want to leave at the end of the season to go back to Mexico, immigration policy discourages that -- Though inadvertently. In years past, Mexican workers would often return home during the slow months and then come back to Oregon to work.

Undocumented Mexicans still cross the border in record numbers, but today's beefed-up patrols make crossing more difficult, dangerous, and expensive. So undocumented workers, once they get here, are now more likely to stay. [Man] I used to go back and forth every ?year?, when I recently came to the United States. And a few times I was caught, and a few the times I was able to cross with no problem. [Woman speaking Spanish] [Woman interpreting] She doesn't work during the winter. I asked, "Do you plan to go back to Mexico?" "Yes. Yes, I'll go back to Mexico," she says. "If I get my immigration documentation status worked out, but, if I don't I'm just going to stay here. There's no way I'm gonna go back and forth." Because ten years ago she could run faster but now she can't run that fast. So that's what keeps her from going back. [Woman] Must have been about 13 when I first started. It was carrots and we picked them in Texas and we had to cut them.

And I always remember that I was always real careful because I hated cutting myself. [Man] This is a hop yard that has been lowered so that the pickers can get to it. [Narrator] Erasmo Gamboa has spent decades compiling the stories of Hispanic people in the Pacific Northwest. [Gamboa] One of the questions that I pose is, why Oregon? For goodness sakes. Oregon in the '40s and the '50s leaves a lot to be desired to Latinos, to a person coming from Mexico or from Texas. But one of the common responses is that in Oregon I was treated better. I was treated unlike I was treated in, say, Texas. [people arguing in Spanish] [Woman] [inaudible] We visited a whole bunch of states, we suffered from a lot of prejudice. And then in Oregon, my dad says, "You know what? They like Mexicans here. They like us here. We're staying here."

So that's really [people speaking in Spanish] why we stayed here in Oregon because of prejudism or racism is not active as it was in other states. [Narrator] Countless Latino workers have found Oregon to be an hospitable place -- most of the time. [Man] After I got out of the military, I wasn't able to find a job. So I found myself back in the fields again and I was actually working with guys that had just arrived from Mexico. And, it is something that really opened my eyes that I didn't see when I was younger. I didn't see the way that -- that people looked at us. You know, we would go into a store -- we were all -- I remember going in with these guys to get some lunch. And just the way you're treated. [Narrator] The hard worker image of farm laborers is well-established. [Man] Sure, they're the first ones out in the field. Sure, they're in their cars waiting for light to arrive. What it says, that they are very realistic about the

opportunity they have. And understand very, very well that their opportunity to work is very limited. These are not ignorant individuals. [Narrator] Compared with their prospects in Mexico, the money these workers can earn here is much better. But by U.S. standards, the pay and the conditions are bottom rung. [Man] American people, for the most part, will not do those jobs because they're low wages, the working conditions are harsh, and there's no protections. [sound of people] [Narrator] Many of these workers are U.S. citizens. Still, efforts to improve wages and working conditions often fail. One reason is that by law, farm workers are not granted some of the basic federal protections that other workers in America enjoy. [Man] In fact, in most cases, if farm workers complain about their living and working conditions, they're usually fired. [Man] Agriculture still remains one of the last of the

major industries that has not granted to its workers the right to collective bargaining -- outside of the state of California. [Narrator] Ag workers are not entitled to overtime or meal or rest breaks. Many are not eligible for unemployment benefits. [Man] Some of the hardest workers that this country has -- these workers are not afforded the same rights and benefits that everybody else has. [Narrator] Oregon, unlike many other states, does apply the minimum wage law to farm work. Even so, some workers continue to earn less. [woman] And there's people now, in this century, in this town, that I know, that come each week here, that are being paid three dollars an hour. There is -- [Man] And the problem is, we have a double standard. Our thinking is that whell then, those people don't count anyway. Right. They're just farm workers or they're just Mexicans. Does that mean that because a worker comes from another

country that we should set the standard that's based on that country? The answer is No. [Narrator] Farm work carries substantial health risks too. Research shows high rates of respiratory illness and tuberculosis in this population. Skin and eye problems go with the territory. Accidents are common and farm workers show the highest rate of toxic chemical injury in the country. Children are vulnerable to many of these risks and to others as well. [music plays] [Woman] Out in the field and hot sun, children have been lost in the cars. We are working in the crew. We'll look into the car to see our child because there was no daycare. [music plays] We went down the road. We looked into the cars. The children were fine. We go back. And by the time we come back, we didn't want to disturb the children because pretty soon it is going to be lunchtime. And then at lunchtime, -- we feed our children in the car, and her child was dead.

Hot, thirst? I don't know. But she died. [Narrator] And in the end, the work and the lifestyle simply wear people out. [Man] Most of the people that I know, they reach the age of 40, 45, and they cannot work anymore. Many of them rely on their own kids. That's why many kids drop out from high school. [Narrator] This is a hard way to make a living. So difficult, that these days the best career strategy for a farm worker is usually to do something else. Many eventually do. [Music plays] So, year after year, back in the fields, the demand for new workers never ends. Almost every discussion of agricultural workers eventually gets around to housing. It's a problem -- a big problem. [Woman] The conditions are -- I was really surprised. I didn't imagine

what conditions they are living, really. [Narrator] These people are poor, yet low-cost housing is always in short supply and the seasonal need for housing complicates things even more. So every spring, when thousands of new workers arrive in towns around the state, often with little cash, no credit or references, and searching for a decent place to rent for six months -- Well, all too often they never find it. [Woman speaking] There's reportedly ten people who sleep up here. [Narrator] These are images of Oregon farm worker housing taken by inspectors from Oregon OSHA, The Occupational Safety and Health Administration. [beeping sound, woman speaking] [Narrator] Most farmers who have workers on their land don't register the camps with OSHA, though it's required by law, because that can bring inspectors and legal headaches. [woman speaking] Sunlight that you can see coming in from the outside of the house under the sink. [Narrator] Yet the consequences for code violations, and even for illegal camps, tend to be light. Because the enforcement agencies are understaffed, and because no one really wants camps to

close and leave the workers homeless. [clicking sounds] [Woman] This is not the way they live in Mexico either. You know, even if they're really poor. They have their little house, even if it's a little piece of land or whatever, but they usually own their own houses there. It's gonna be [inaudible], it's gonna be their houses, they have something with dignity. [Narrator] She says that many of these workers are embarrassed by the conditions they live in here. [Woman] They don't say what's going on to their families. They don't talk about their reality here. [woman speaking in Spanish] [Narrator] This woman stays in a two-room mobile home near Woodburn with her husband and three children. The owner charges 500 dollars a month rent. The toilets are out back -- not unusual for farm worker housing. Examples of good housing do exist around Oregon. For instance, these cabins just a few miles away are well-built and comfortably equipped. In Nyssa,the County Housing Authority maintains these rental units for both migrant and year-

round workers. The apartments are modest at best, but affordable. And families who can get in consider themselves lucky. Nearby ?Adrian?, a Growers Association owns this camp. Every summer it houses dozens of migrant families, mostly from Texas. But ultimately, most farm workers will live in a nearby town, like here in Nyssa. Seasonal workers, especially, often pool money to rent an apartment or house and pack in several people per room. Others will simply pitch a tent somewhere, or even live in their cars. One showcase alternative to all of this is Nuevo Amanecer, Spanish for new dawn, in the city of Woodburn. Built for agricultural workers and their families, this project is run by a community organization with money from the USDA and other sources. [Man] In the city of Woodburn, we have -- we have the best farm worker housing in the country. [Men speaking in Spanish]

[Man] He says it's a big difference for his family to live here. You go to work early, works, comes back, he knows that he has a house, that's clean, you know that's comfortable. [Other man] I'm happy. [inaudible] Yeah. And my first time out. And living [inaudible] apartment. [inaudible]Good. I feel good. [Narrator] Ramon Ramirez says there's an obvious best way out of the whole farm worker housing crisis. [Ramirez] Well, the solution to that is you pay a worker a decent wage and you don't have to provide housing. Because they won't make enough money, you know, to rent or buy a home. [Narrator] But to date, renting their own means living somewhere like this mobile home court in ?Boardman.? [Ramirez] Most of the people that live in those small homes are Hispanics. Or Hispanic fire workers, or Hispanics working in potato plants.

[Narrator] And these are the neighborhoods where tens of thousands of farm workers, children -- the next wave of adult Oregonians -- are growing up. [sound of child speaking] [Young person] I remember sitting in the back of this classroom, I was in the back row, and my teacher would never acknowledge me. She would never acknowledge me. That memory still sticks with me. [speaking Spanish] [speaking Spanish] [Interpreter] I came at age 13. I couldn't attend school because I had to work; and I have been working for 30 years. [speaking Spanish] [Narrator] These days, mandatory attendance keeps more kids in school. But Oregon labor law allows 12-year olds to work in the fields as much as 40 hours a week and under some conditions children can work even longer hours or at ages as young as 9. And plenty of young children do work to put food on their families'

and our families' tables. Today's families may travel less than in years past, but their children still often struggle in school. In some Oregon school districts they drop out at a rate of more than 20 percent. Their parents' workloads may be partly to blame. [Woman] You have a lot of parents that move here and they may have only had sixth grade education. Or they may not have had a sixth grade, or any education in Mexico. So they're coming here to provide their children with opportunities and it is a struggle, many of them work two jobs. Many of them work the weekends. [speaking Spanish] [Interpreter] It's not that we are too lazy to learn to read and write. It's because the work is very tiring and we come home exhausted. Even to this day, I want to study but my exhaustion is too much. [Woman] They can't help their kids because they don't know the material. [Speaking Spanish] [Woman] And if they don't understand it because it's in another language, that makes it even more challenging. What you do notice is that if parents aren't home frequently to help their

students with homework, if the students have to go home and babysit or go do work, it's really hard for them to stay caught up in school. [Speaking Spanish] [Narrator] Most rural districts offer migrant education programs for real help to these children. But many schools remain ill-prepared for their growing numbers of Spanish speaking bicultural students. [man speaking Spanish] [Woman] There was no such thing as bilingual education at that time. [Narrator] Rebecca Oliveros says she spent most of elementary school relegated to special education classes for learning disabled students, because she had entered first grade with shaky English skills and later, in high school. [Oliveros] I didn't even find out about college until it was almost too late to apply. No one told me anything. No one spoke to me when I went into the counseling office there was one counselor who said, "Well, you're not really going to college are you? But, you know, maybe you should just get a job." Basically, was telling me I couldn't do college and then I couldn't go on. "You know you could just get married."

[Man] It's absurd. We have more Latinos in prison than we do in colleges and universities. I mean, that's a problem. [Narrator] Life in a family that's moved to Oregon to earn dollars is a far cry from family life in Mexico. [woman speaking Spanish] [Interpreter] There, the mothers really do not work. I don't know about now, but when I was there they would dedicate themselves to the children and to the house. You live poor, but only the man works. Here, we suffered less in the material sense but it is very tiring because we have to work a lot. [people talking] [Narrator] Until recently, when Gloria ?Morio? and her husband opened a grocery store, she had worked in the nearby fields and packing plants for 30 years. [woman speaking in Spanish] [Interpreter] The poor women, they could not even give their children a hug because they would get home extremely exhausted from how hard they had been worked. Drained mentally, drained of all their energy. [Woman speaking in Spanish, man speaking in Spanish]

[Woman] In Hispanic families, the kids have a lot of responsibilities. They are in two cultures. They're expected to not only fulfill everything that their family wants them to fulfill, but they're also expected to integrate perfectly into the American society. [Narrator] So on the one hand, these Boardman kids have the cards stacked against them. [laughter] On the other hand, they have Mario Magana. He's an Oregon State University extension agent who runs the 4-H program here. [man speaking in Spanish] None of his kids, though, can afford to -- in Mario's words -- grow up a steer for the state fair. [Magana] [inaudible] [inaudible] is very difficult to do, traditional for age. If you are talking about doing a cow project, you don't have land to grab a cow or to grab a sheep or to grab a goat. So it's very difficult. We don't do agricultural prize of this sort because we don't have land. [sound of music, feet tapping] [Narrator] The 4-H program in Boardman looks like this: Parents teach traditional folk dancing, [music, tapping continue, people making noise]

Or for kids who like their physical activity a little faster pace, [music, tapping continue, people cheering] There's a soccer [inaudible]. [man speaking in Spanish] The 4-H computer club is a hit, too. [Man speaking in Spanish, woman speaking in Spanish]. [Man] We start learning Microsoft Word, Microsoft PowerPoint, [sound of laughter] Microsoft Access and, little bit about Excel. [Narrator] This 4-H program is a success, but it is new and rare. [Man speaking in Spanish] Oregon only has two Latino extension agents and few other Hispanic communities have comparable programs to reach out to their kids. These days, too many kids of Mexican backgrounds are just falling through the cracks. [Woman speaking Spanish]

[Interpreter] My son loves sports. He wanted to play basketball and football all the time. Michael Jordan was his favorite player. He collected a lot of cards of the players. But he could never play. I have the uniform of the only football game he played in. He was unable to play more because of his grades -- the F's [Narrator] Struggling in his classes, and with parents unable to help, her son's interest turned to drugs. A growing problem in this community. [Woman speaking in Spanish] [Interpreter] Very quickly, they are drawn into the streets. It happens a lot here. [Woman] They're not going to get the best paying jobs. And they're going to be struggling from one job to the next and then trying to maintain their family. And the lack of education, the cycle will just repeat itself. You know, and their children will struggle just like they struggled. [Woman speaking in Spanish] [Interpreter] He ended his life at 18 years with a gunshot to the head. He left a written letter that said, "This life is very difficult."

[Man] Illiteracy and ignorance doesn't just impact the individual, it impacts all of us and it's in our own self-interest to make sure that everyone is educated, regardless of who they are, where they come from, where they live, what they aspire to, etc. Do you want people to read and write? Or do you want a sector of our society that is illiterate? [Narrator] And regardless of their citizenship or language, these students are both required and entitled to be in school and get a first rate education. [sound of students talking] [Man] Because the Constitution says that they have a right to that education. Simple as that. [music plays] [Woman] There are wax paper and wax. I forge them out of paper, typing paper, grocery bag

paper. Any kind of paper. This also has taught me about how sometimes we think that this paper bag is good for nothing. Let's crush it up and put it in the trash. And so we do with people, too. Like we have been done to us as Mexicanos, as farm workers. A napkin off our dining table, turned into a beautiful flower. I give it another chance, like I want somebody else to give me another chance so that my life can be better. [sound of painting] [Man] I think, for me, the whole reason that I paint the migrant worker paintings I do is to kind of force people to see that they do exist. But not only that they exist but that they are actually contributing to our community. [sound of truck, whistle] [Narrator] The problems that plague agricultural workers: poverty, inadequate education, poor housing, are real. But, in spite of it all, the growing

Latino population spreads a wealth of culture and tradition. [sound of cash register] And money, throughout Oregon. [people speaking, cash register sounds] [Man] Looks good. Hold it. [sound of camera shutter] Great. Now, let's go ahead and change [inaudible]. [Narrator] ?Ismael Hernandez?, who once worked in the fields, now owns a photography business in Ontario and serves on the local school board. [people speaking in Spanish, laughing] [Narrator] Maria ?Porres?, born in Mexico, came to Oregon as a farm worker's child. [People speaking in Spanish, laughter] [Narrator] So did [inaudible] Mendoza, though her family has lived in the U.S. at least 11 generations. [Chinvala Mendoza] Where have you seen a lollipop with a bag of chili powder with it? [music plays] [Narrator] Her stores and restaurants, named Su Casa, or your house, cater to Latinos of many nationalities, since people now move here from a variety of Spanish-speaking countries.

[Mendoza] It's called Su Casa for a reason. We want to feel at home. [music plays] You can see a lot of products who are really popular in the rural areas. And all those products are coming to United States because the people who came from [inaudible] areas, they are looking for those products here. In this case those cans are chiles. You know, in Mexico, the people follow a more American way. Right, American life, they want to be like Americans. So sometimes they dress in jeans, and you know, like any American here, right? But when they came here, they want to show that they are proud of their cultures, they are proud of their heritage. And they start to be more close to their own culture. [music, sound of people talking]

[Narrator] Tradition is something Eva Castellanos works hard to preserve. In her home in Nyssa, she makes the coronas that brides and young girls wear for ceremonial occasions. [Castellanos] Because this is one of their traditions. And nobody that wasn't a virgin could wear a corona of [Spanish]. Little wires dipped in wax. That's a little tiny bud of the orange bloom. [Narrator] Eva is also a curandera -- a healer who uses the methods practiced in a small Mexican village of her birth. [Castellanos] These oils are all specially made for rubbing the mommy's tummy when they're expecting a baby. [Narrator] She administers her blend of herbal medicine and spirituality -- [Castellanos speaks inaudibly] [Narrator] to hundreds of farm workers here on the eastern edge of Oregon. [Castellanos] They come first here for their blessing. They sit on their chair and the incense is burned and their blessing is given to them before they can start

to look for work. [Music, singing] [Man] There is change in the air. In Oregon. [Music, singing] [Narrator] These days, most of the states' Latinos actually live in urban areas and do not work in agriculture. But, typically, agriculture is what brought them, or their parents or their grandparents, to the Northwest. [Man] Hispanic people are going to come here. All kinds of people are going to come to this great country because there's so much opportunity. [Narrator] Recent Mexican arrivals are coming from more rural and remote areas of Mexico. Many are indigenous Indian people who speak Spanish as their second language -- if at all. People who, even in Mexico, are often outsiders.

The diversity of Oregon's Hispanic community -- like that of Oregon as a whole -- is on the rise. [Music plays] And increasing diversity brings a full plate of challenges and opportunities for everyone. [Man] We are a different Oregon. And I think we're a better Oregon. But not just because of Mexican people, or persons of Mexican descent, but because of Asian immigration, of Middle Eastern immigration, of European immigrants. I think it's a healthier state than it was, socially speaking, than it was 30 or 40 years ago. [Guitar music plays] [Man] There was a soldier. And he was one of the casualties of the Second World War, the Battle of the Bulge. He's a Mexican. And he's been to Oregon. And he writes one of his last letters. "If I

survive this war," he says, "I'm going to take everybody to Oregon. I want to build my home in Oregon." [guitar music continues] "Everywhere you look in Oregon, and everywhere you go, you're walking among the angels and the saints." That was his description of Oregon. This is a Mexican person. I believe that even for farm workers, even though they come from somewhere else, that -- these parts of the Pacific Northwest shape them, root them in place, gives them a sense of place. As it does farmers. [Music plays] [Music continues, singing]

[Singing continues] [Woman] I knew [inadible] when I was only 12-years old. The other day, we were talking about it, and I go, "Oh my gosh! I cannot believe that our kids are married to each other, when we knew each other way back when." [Man] We have invited them to come. That's exactly what has happened. And in the same way that they transform Oregon, Oregon -- sort of reinvents them. [music, singing continues] So I think that Oregon has a tendency to make us all Oregonians. [music, singing continues and ends] [Guitar music plays]

Funding for production of the Oregon Story was made possible through a generous grant from the United

States Department of Agriculture, Rural development