A Call for Dignity: Day Laborers Strike on May Day

 

A Call for Dignity:

Day Laborers Strike on May Day

On May 1, 1886, anarchists, socialists, and rank-and-file workers went on strike in Chicago, raising the stakes in a campaign that joined immigrant and native-born workers in common cause against the factory owners and bosses. The strike, which saw tens of thousands march north up Michigan Avenue, was part of a successful nation-wide movement demanding an eight-hour work day. On May 1, 2000, anarchists, socialists, and workers from a vast array of industries will take to the streets of Chicago again, in much larger numbers than in recent years, at rallying points all over the downtown area. Diverse activists will present a list of demands born of the anti-globalization, anti-capitalist movement that got a tremendous shot in the arm on the streets of Seattle last November. And if day labor organizer Jose Landaverde is successful, a majority of those protesting on International Workers' Day will be day laborers, or, as he calls them, the slaves of the new millennium. Jose Landaverde is one of those people whose passion for justice is both deeply felt and infectious, whose tolerance for injustice is just about nil. A fiery, 27-year-old radical Catholic from El Salvador, at the age of ten Landaverde suffered the murder of his parents by the Salvadoran military. He and the rest of his family were forced into the jungle, joining the FMLN (Farabundo Marti National Liberation Front) guerrilla forces out of necessity. At age 17 Landaverde himself was arrested by the military, for his work organizing among San Salvador's poor. Blindfolded, imprisoned, and tortured, upon his release Landaverde fled north to Guatemala, Mexico, and Los Angeles, where he worked for a time with a homeless organization. Restless, he moved on to Houston and then Chicago, where he came to rest at Su Casa Catholic Worker house on the southside about three years ago. Recently Landaverde worked with the Chicago Coalition for the Homeless' Latino Task Force, but he says his ideas fell outside the scope of the Coalition's work. "I wanted to create something bigger, something that respected people's dignity, something that wasn't counting people like numbers," says Landaverde, now 27. He left the Coalition, taking with him a proposal he'd developed while there, the seeds for the creation of a Latino Union. The idea? "To create consciousness in people. To get people in front of the movement. We need to develop and support leaders from the grassroots. It's time for Latinos to move." Landaverde is hard at work generating participation in the Latino Union,which has three goals, initially: support for the rights of workers; opposition to gentrification of poor communities; and the organization of one of the larger of this year's May Day rallies, the Day Labor Strike.

Somethin's goin' on. . . say the Roots, Philadelphia's acoustic hip hop band, who have played benefits for Mumia Abu-Jamal. . . In recent years, attendance at May Day events in Chicago, which after all is birthplace to International Workers Day, has rarely exceeded a few hundred souls. This year's commemorations saw over a thousand, and renewed movement around the country. Why? Dennis Dixon, who worked with the umbrella May Day Coalition and also works with Networking for Democracy, sees the renewed activity as part of a "nascent 'anti-capitalist' sentiment among people" whose wages have plummeted over the last 20 years, who see a government unwilling and unable to tackle crucial social problems. "People see the movement of capital away from areas where there are relatively high wages to places where there are no enforceable labor or environmental laws. They see the sweatshops, and we get a lot of support at our pickets at Nike and the Gap. Corporate greed is a veritable buzzword," says Dixon.

So far, the Latino Union has drawn together groups that range from churches to activist groups like Jobs with Justice and Coalition for the Homeless, as well as radical Latino organizations such as Pueblo Sin Fronteras and the Puerto Rican Cultural Center. Landaverde hopes to see over 3,000 day laborers at the Strike. Established unions, including Service Employees International Union Local 73, have endorsed the Day Laborers Strike, which will travel the same path as the historic 1886 demonstration, starting at Michigan and Balbo Avenues and proceeding north to the Tribune Plaza. Day Labor in Chicago As in 1886, one issue that ranks high on the agenda for the Day Labor Strike is the length of the work day. According to Landaverde, day laborers often work up to 16 hours in a day, in substandard conditions, without hope of union representation, without benefits of any kind. Day labor agencies deduct payroll taxes from checks, money the laborers never see and that often ends up in the agencies' bank accounts. Non-payment and partial payment of wages is not uncommon. Undocumented workers in particular have feared speaking out, for fear of deportation. "These are not people usually involved in politics, they're just hungry," says Landaverde of the day laborers, who are predominantly African-American and Latino. "They are people reduced to slavery because they are looking for food." According to needs assessments conducted by the Latino Task Force, over half of the Mexican families living in Back of the Yards are involved in day labor; over a third of the Latino families of Little Village and West Town/Humboldt Park support themselves through day labor as well. One of the day laborers who will be attending Monday's Day Labor Strike is Luis Padillas, a stocky, unassuming man who immigrated to Chicago three years ago from Mexico City. Padillas is homeless and lives at Jose Obrero shelter in Pilsen. Padillas has worked through various southside day labor agencies; sometimes he washes dishes at nearby Chinese restaurants. In either setting, getting $30 for a day's work that lasts 12 to 14 hours is the norm, for he and many people he knows. "But you can't complain, because then they treat you bad, or drop you. The day labor agencies also deduct money from your check for transportation to a job, and then the driver will demand another dollar-fifty for the ride on top of that," says Padillas, via translator. The illegal practices are bad enough, but the day labor industry is adversely affecting labor practices across the country, legally. Since the mid-1980s, the replacement of regular employees with temporary workers has mushroomed, as part of the new corporate agenda. The day labor industry saves employers a lot of money, and seriously impacts the ability of all workers to receive fair treatment and decent wages. Most day laborers would prefer full-time, traditional work if it were available, according to a report published by the U.S. Dept. of Labor's Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS) in December 1999. The average worker in a traditional, non-temporary job earned $540 a week in February of last year; the average temporary worker made $342, less than two-thirds as much. For Latinos working day labor, weekly wages were little more than half of the traditional workers' earnings, at $296. These are the official statistics; unofficially, Landaverde says that Chicago's day laborers fare far worse. Problems of Gender in Day Labor Women face additional societal, gender-based factors that exacerbate the inequalities. Those over age 40 often don't get hired, says Landaverde, because of their age. And, as always, the possibility of sexual harassment on the job multiplies for women workers who are undocumented. "Maria," who like Landaverde is Salvadoran, has lived in the Chicago area for ten years, working for half a dozen different day labor agencies. With her daughter translating, she says, "The agencies treat people badly. Verbally and in other ways. They wouldn't pay our wages sometimes." Worse, male personnel in the agency offices sexually assault young women working for the agency. "Most of the women I know of, who are assaulted, are girls from Mexico, ages 13 to 17. The male supervisors tell these girls to go get fake IDs so they can work. Then they seduce the girls, who can't report the assaults to anyone. The girls feel intimidated, and the men do things like threatening to burn down their houses." One instance witnessed by "Maria" is all too common, she says. "At Western Staff Services, at 51st and Cicero, they send people to work, and they work three or four hours, and sometimes they run out of materials. Well, I saw the men, the other personnel, treat the women workers really badly, screaming at them, chasing them around like they were animals. "I'd like to be able to put cameras in these places, so people can see how temp work is." These young women are the majority of the workers at day labor jobs in the country. According to the BLS, workers for the day labor agencies are "more likely than traditional workers to be women, under the age of 25, black, and[/or] Hispanic." Landaverde shows a mixture of anger at conditions such as "Maria" has seen, and compassion for survivors of such experiences. He sees the Day Labor Strike as part of the process of bringing such injustice to light. He and organizers of the Strike also see it as a means of calling for unions to unify in confronting day labor injustice. The strike and rally will also petition politicians and other leaders to create laws regulating day labor agencies; and propose that the city put up a million dollars for the creation of Workers Centers, to be self-managed by the workers. Workers Centers have proven to be particularly effective in recent years among women and in immigrant communities and communities of color. Asian Immigrant Women Advocates in San Francisco has developed women's leadership while also providing English classes and workshops on contract rights, labor regulations, health and safety rules, and wage and hour laws. In New York, the Latino Workers Center offers similar classes and has led successful protests against abusive employers. Anarchists, the Illinois Labor History Society, and the Day Labor Strike The Day Labor Strike is also being sponsored by the Illinois Labor History Society (ILHS), whose participation has drawn some criticism from those whose history tells them that the eight Haymarket martyrs were tried, convicted, and four of them hanged not just for their labor agitation, but for being anarchists. According to Darrell Gordon, a gay anarchist of African descent affiliated with the Autonomous Zone, the ILHS has gone to great lengths to revise the history surrounding the martyrs, who, in addition to being workers, were also revolutionary trade unionists and anarchists. "A lot of anarchists are upset that the Labor History Society is a part of this march," says Gordon. "The Labor History Society waters down who the Haymarket martyrs were." Landaverde is sympathetic to the criticism, but sees the tension as part of the process. As the movement for social justice grows in this country, certain tensions will have to be ironed out. "The anarchists are going to play a real important role" in the future, says Landaverde, who takes inspiration from the Haymarket anarchists. "They're always going to be there supporting the issues. Anarchists take a position like Jesus - fighting the structures and institutions that create top-down problems. " He adds that poor people today, particularly Latinos and African-Americans in Chicago, are living in situations similar to those faced by the immigrant communities from which the Haymarket martyrs came.

May Day 2000: A Century of No Progress? (pub. Chicago Reader)

On May 1, 1886, thousands of anarchists, socialists, and rank-and-file workers marched up Michigan Avenue to fight for an eight-hour workday.

On May 1, 2000, anarchists, socialists, and workers from a vast array of industries will take to the streets again, in much larger numbers than in recent years, at rallying points in and around the downtown area.

Dennis Dixon, who works with the umbrella May Day Coalition, sees the renewed activity as part of a “nascent anticapitalist sentiment among people.” But if Jose Landaverde gets his way, a majority of those protesting on May 1 will be day laborers.

As in 1886, the length of the workday is a primary concern. According to Landaverde, day laborers often work 16 hours a day, in substandard conditions, without hope of union representation and without benefits of any kind. He says nonpayment or partial payment of wages is not uncommon and undocumented workers can’t speak out for fear of deportation. “These are not people usually involved in politics, they’re just hungry,” says Landaverde. “They are people reduced to slavery because they are looking for food.”

According to a September survey by the Chicago Coalition for the Homeless, 75 percent of people in shelters worked at day labor, and more than 95 percent of these workers wanted a permanent full-time position. Unfortunately, they may be trapped by day labor–many agencies pay minimum wage and require their workers to sign waivers forbidding them to accept these jobs as permanent.

The Bureau of Labor Statistics says the average worker in a full-time job earns $540 a week, while the average temporary worker makes $342. For Latinos working day labor, weekly wages are $296. These are the official statistics; unofficially, Landaverde says, day laborers fare far worse.

Landaverde, a fiery, 27-year-old radical Catholic from El Salvador, hopes to attract more than 3,000 day laborers to his May 1 Day Labor Strike. Participants will march along the same route as the historic 1886 demonstration. The march kicks off at 11 AM in Grant Park at Michigan and Balbo and proceeds north to converge with other marches (see below) at Pioneer Court, 400 N. Michigan. For details, call 773-593-1800.

Other May 1 events include:

The performance poetry group I Was Born With Two Tongues and Marvin Tate’s band D-Settlement will perform at a fund-raiser for the Day Labor Strike, following a May Day discussion, beginning at 6:30 PM Sunday, April 30, at HotHouse, 31 E. Balbo. Admission is $10 to $20, on a sliding scale. Call 312-362-9707 for more.

The “Protest of Global Capital and Corporate Dominance” begins at 8 AM May 1 at the Chicago Board of Trade, LaSalle and Jackson. This rally will head east to join the Day Labor Strike at Grant Park. For information, call the Eighth Day Center for Justice at 312-641-5151.

“Global Crimes, Local Action”–a demonstration supporting amnesty for undocumented workers (recently endorsed by the AFL-CIO) and freedom for all political prisoners–begins at 11 AM at Division and Western. The march will head southeast to join a Pilsen-based amnesty march at Halsted and Grand; both groups will then join the Day Labor strike at Pioneer Court. For details, call Prairie Fire at 773-278-6706 or Pueblo Sin Fronteras at 773-772-8383; for details on the Pilsen march, call Casa Aztlan at 312-666-5508.

“Protest the U.S.-Sponsored Dirty War Against the Colombian Labor Movement” will be held at noon May 1 at the Colombian Consulate, 500 N. Michigan. Call the Colombia Labor Monitor at 773-794-2605.

A “May Day Rally for Justice,” sponsored by Neighbors Against Police Brutality, the Christian Council on Urban Affairs, and the Coalition to Protect Public Housing, is scheduled for 2:30 May 1 at Daley Plaza, Dearborn and Washington. For details, call the May Day Coalition at 773-794-5226.

 

Luck of the Irish: My Night As a Pogue

[Author's note: this is a little story about the kind of thing that happened to people in the late '80s, a time that seems long, long ago and far, far away...I thought one or two of you might enjoy it . . . David]

I was at home reading when the phone rang. It was Randy, saying that Joe Strummer was touring with the Pogues, and that the Clash guitarist might show up at Phyllis' Musical Inn after their show that night at the Vic Theater.

"Wow."

I called Sara at the restaurant where she and I worked, told her the news. She told Jim, our bartender friend. They said let's go, hurry up.

I put a Clash album on the record player. Loud. Singing "I'm so bo-o-ored with the U. S. A." at the top of my lungs as I got dressed. I put all of my five dollars in my pocket and sped over to pick up Sara and Jim.

We sauntered into Phyllis', found one empty table, and parked ourselves at it. I think we all felt like star-gazers, but what the hell, it's Joe Strummer, not Madonna. We talked amongst ourselves, occasionally looking over at the door.

A guy come over to our table from the bar, a guy named Clem. He shook our hands, saying, "Listen, I love your music. I know you guys must be pretty tired, but would you play a song for us after while?"

Sara looked at me uncomprehendingly. I racked my brain, wondering why Clem thought we were tired, let alone why he might want us to go up on stage and sing a song in the first place. I'd been sitting quietly at home only an hour before. Maybe he'd heard my crooning to the Clash album?

When I looked over at Jim, I saw mischief in his eyes, I saw his snot green plaid shirt with the top button buttoned, the black jacket and tousled hair. I thought of my own tousled hair. Suddenly it became clear as the waters of the Liffey: nestled as we were in some little dive on Division Street, Chicago, our 15 minutes of fame had just begun. We were Pogues.

Clem asked us what kind of shots we wanted. I started to see myself as Clem must have seen me. I turned discreetly towards the wall and hooked the top button of my shirt.

The back of my brain began to tingle, it formed strange, broken words I couldn't really understand. All of a sudden they came tumbling out, in some half-assed Irish brogue: "'Ave you gawt a jug of Jameson?"

Jim chimed in: "Ay, Jameson! I'll 'ave Jameson!" Sara smiled obliquely, unbelieving, saying nothing.

Clem went to fetch the bottle of whiskey, and the three of us looked at each other wide-eyed. Free shots!

We all kept hush, wondering how what was happening was happening. Jim always looks vaguely Irish, and I could feel a gap forming between my two front teeth, and Sara—Sara, my girlfriend—a groupie?

Then I couldn't remember how to spell my name, was it S-E-A-N or was it S-H-A-N-E?

We tried on our new-found accents, like trying on a pair of very stiff shoes.

People were beginning to look at us. Whispering in their neighbors' ears. When they started pointing, discreetly at first, fear crept around our table.

Clem came back with the bottle, and poured out four shots. Lucky guy!, I thought, drinking shots with the Pogues in his own bar on Division Street in the U.S.A. He poured out four more, we tossed them back.

Leaning towards Clem, I muttered, "Listen, mate, we'd love to sing a toon for yas, but our throats is a bit tyred, you know." Clem understood.

"Maybe we could sing for yas loiter," offered Jim, the shoe in his mouth slipping over the water from a brogue to a sabot. "And how's about another spill from the jug?" Clem poured out three more; Sara was slowing down.

The whiskey helped us fill out our roles a bit. We smoked like rock stars, laughed as only Pogues can laugh. People were starting to stare, but no one dared approach. Clem begged us for a tune again, but I couldn't think of even one song I knew all the worlds to. A tin whistle from hell was ringing in my ears, how could I possibly sing? Just then, Jim said to Clem, "Can't do it mate, gawt to get go-in', gawt a gig toomarra up in the Mota City."

We were off the hook for the moment. Until the band, Tribe, looked over at us, offering their guitars and drumsticks for us to use. The pressure was reaching a crescendo, and we made a beeline for the door. The phony accents couldn't hold up much longer, and all those leering fans, and now the band looking to us. . . .

We laughed hysterically as we drove towards Jim's apartment. Too bad we didn't have the nerve to carry the charade on, but we really couldn't sing. Joe Strummer hadn't shown up, but we had a good time anyways.

Then, something snapped in my head again, in a different part this time. Why the hell not carry the charade on, somewhere else? Sara looked doubtful (groupies often do), but eventually she saw the limelight, and we headed over to the Lizard Lounge.

Joe the bouncer recognized us first, our accents and tousled Pogue hair tipping him off. No cover charge for us? Great. Shots? Sure, 'ave yas got Jameson? One of the waitresses took a liking to Jim. Told him we should go to a joint called the Riptide later on, they had a four o'clock.

"A four o'clock whot?," asked Jim coyly.

Joe poured out some shots for us. We downed them and took off. Jim wanted to go to the Dearborn Social Club, in the Rush Street area, of all the unlikely places. It felt good to be normal, non-Pogues again, no one recognized us there. But those tinglings started in my brain again, and I asked the bartender if he couldn't stand us three drinks for the price of one, "You see we just gawt to 'merica, Ir-r-rish you know, don't 'ave much green. Thanks, mate." No problem.

Next stop, Exit. We considered; this was going to be a tough nut to crack. Exit people might actually know what a Pogue looks like. We sat in the car, debating. Finally I climbed out, and went up to the doorman. "Listen, Oi've gawt a Pogue with me out in the cah. We'd loike to come in, but we'd loike to keep it real low key. Alroite?"

Alright. Sara parked the car, Jim donned sunglasses. The doorman waved us in inconspicuously, waving the $5 cover charges at the same time. He saw to it that we weren't bothered during our stay, and we danced a bit to get some of the whiskey out of our systems. No one recognized us though, so we got bored and left. On the way out I slipped the guy a few bucks. "Thanks for the good work, mate."

We headed over to the Riptide in Bucktown. By now we'd had so many shots, felt so many stares piercing our veneer, stardom was wearing thin at three in the morning. Jim didn't even care that his waitress from the Lizard Lounge wasn't at the Riptide, and the folks in the bar didn't give a fuck who we were. We had to pay for our beers.

Jim started singing and yelling at the top of his lungs, slamming his beer bottle on a tabletop. Sara yawned as I half-heartedly tried to quiet Jim down. We weren't appreciated any longer, it was time to call it quits.We stumbled out to the car. I threw my beer bottle towards a dumpster, it shattered with a crash on the pavement.

Jim climbed in the back seat, and Sara turned the key in the ignition, and the engine warmed up. I heard a knock on the window; some guy and three of his buddies from the bar. He asked if we were looking for trouble. I rolled down the window to say no, puga mahon, I don't know what trouble you're talking about, but his fist bopped me on the forehead before any words, Irish or not, could get out.

Sara quickly put the care in gear, and we pulled away, leaving our assailants behind. So much for stardom, I thought, a vague throbbing working its way through the whiskey and beer in my head.

We all laughed (although I only laughed half-heartedly, otherwise it hurt), and dropped Jim off at his apartment. Sara said something about the bubble being burst. I guess that's how stardom works in America, one minute you're loved, and the next thing you know you've got a bump on the head. Jim called the next afternoon. "Better cancel Detroit, ay mate?"

"Ay."

I checked my pants pocket for money. I still had two dollars.

 

The Wicker Park
Problem:

A Proposal

--David Meyers

Yes, the closing of Hot House, Urbus Orbis, and the Busy Bee is sad. Worthy of a funeral procession like the one held early in September during the Around the Coyote festival of property. Worthy of a movement to stem the flow of gentrification?
Imagine if you'd been born and grown up in Wicker Park, and every single candy store and restaurant you'd ever known had been shut down, demolished, torched, rehabbed, gentrified. Worthy of a funeral procession? Worthy of a movement to stem the land grab that destroys homes, families, whole communities.

Here is my proposal.

Whereas:
Even the healthy aspects of bohemianism have been fouled by the agenda of real estate developers, some politicians, and some lovers of art, transformed into a cog in the engine driving Latinos and other low-income people out of Wicker Park;
Opposition to gentrification by the artist and activist newcomers to Wicker Park has taken diverse and creative forms, but have been disconnected and somewhat isolated, and in retrospect ineffective;
Displacement of Latinos and others - including newcomer artists and activists - from Wicker Park continues, and we artists and activists are part of this process and therefore partly responsible;
Displacement is taking place in other areas in Chicago, and in cities across the country;
Gentrification is in large part a manifestation of racism, and to take part in racist movements is harmful not only to the displaced and marginalized, but to the displacer, who becomes overcome with the cynicism, apathy, and inhibited creativity that would threaten a truly vital arts community;
Effects of the current invasion of urban ghettos on low-income people mirrors the (continuing) decimation and displacement of Native Americans over the past two centuries, a decimation accomplished in fact by the westward movement of common pioneers and settlers, who allowed themselves to be used as pawns of government, the wealthy, and alligiance to the reprehensible practice of "white makes right";
Life without a sense of justice, freedom, and cultural integrity and autonomy becomes boring, deathly, oppressive, and in becoming pawns we have lost our own autonomy;
All people ought to have equal access to at least the minimum necessities of living, and gentrification denies one of those necessities, fair and equal housing;

And If:
Newcomer artists and activists have an interest in stemming the flow of a racist agenda;
Our declarations of love and appreciation of humanity and other cultures are to have any meaning;
Maintaining health, home, and social bonds are deemed to be as important for one set of people as for another;
We believe that racism and its local manifestation in gentrification are a bad business to be involved in, and that our indifference to the plights of others harms our own spirits and lives;
It is possible to put respect for others and their differences into practice on a more
comprehensive scale, and become a positive force in this area;

Then:
Those of us white, European-descended people and others living in the Wicker Park/West Town/Humboldt Park/Logan Square areas come together to form a group or a group of groups dedicated to acting in concert to challenge racism and its clearest local manifestation, gentrification. This can be an opportunity to take responsibility for our place and actions in the world, as well as
generate community spirit of our own;
Newcomer activists, artists, and individuals involved with Centro Sin Fronteras, Puerto Rican Cultural Center, Autonomous Zone, Anti-Racist Action, West Town Tenants Union and other organizations as well as independent or unaffiliated artists, activists and
concerned people meet and move to action. We all come from different places, have different ideas and talents; this doesn't need to inhibit action.
Of course, this can be a multiethnic grouping, as some people of color are in somewhat the same boat. To be real, though, the coloring of the Wicker Park invasion is 96% white.
This is a call to action, not further theorizing divorced from action.
I think it's important now to resist the urge to keep on moving on, into Humboldt Park, Pilsen, wherever, and say clearly, "NO. I will no longer be manipulated like a pawn in service of a racist agenda."

You must be some island ...

 

Speaking of independence

You must be some island ...

that you fill the hearts of so many so far away
with dreams of shimmering waters and a thousand sweet fruits

It must be some magical caribbean night
that gushes salsa up to the stars and back down to Division Steet into that bombastic trombone known as Willie Colón

It must be some fancy fruit-filled pastry you concoct
that your bakery-in-exile sells out of them by ten every morning leaving hundreds without their sugar fix, with anguish and despair

It must be some forbidden pleasure
that makes so many want to pillage your land
and send you away for having known its secrets

It must be some perverse logic
that keeps sending your children far away from home
to a land that wants to vanquish them without leaving a trace

You must be some island
that your children will never stop longing
and fighting to set you free

Condos or Carrots: Land Rescue at the GreenHouse Community Garden in West Town

 

Condos or Carrots:

Land Rescue in West Town

-David Meyers

Last summer (1997), a demonstration of community support pressured Alderman Jesse Granato (1st Ward) to back off selling the city-owned land that houses the GreenHouse Garden at Thomas & Wood Streets. Organized by the GreenHouse Gardeners, the West Town land rescue effort was one of the first in recent times to successfully challenge the land-grabbing developers and their political lackeys.

The GreenHouse Gardeners, who have grown to love the land they work, demonstrated with over 30 supporters both inside and outside of the Alderman's office. They presented Granato with over 300 signatures demanding that he take the lot off the real estate market after he had put it up for sale without seeking any community input.

When Granato finally relented to the voice of the community, the Gardeners chose to have the lot turned over to the non-profit Neighbor Space organization, which will hold title to the land but leave management of the garden completely in the hands of the Gardeners. The GreenHouse Garden has effectively been preserved in perpetuity (this means forever).

Crabapples, Cherries and
Conversation

A group of activists and artists started the GreenHouse Garden almost five years ago, to grow vegetables and open conversation between the area's long-time Latino residents and the young, non-Latino people moving into the area for its cultural vibrancy. Common to both groups was an opposition to the displacement caused by rampant development.

One such conversation started last June, when a man down the street offered to let us use his water supply. A home owner for over 25 years, he later told us that when workers started digging to build a new yuppie house next door to his home, they dug underneath his house, a frame house that now sits crooked on its foundation and may have to be torn down. Intentional or not, such actions are criminal and all too typical of the displacement process.

The GreenHouse Garden's original spirit of breaking down barriers while acknowledging differences also had sort of a hip hop flavor, keep it personal / keep it real. (Unfortunately much of this flavor has been lost, or is in hibernation....) At the beginning, a few adults and a dozen kids raked up piles of broken glass and pulled weeds til their hands blistered; they exchanged knowledge about edible wild plants. Chamomile and chicory still poke up all over the place, as they do all over West Town.

One day a yuppie in full regalia of business suit and high heels stopped on the crumbling sidewalk as she walked home to her condo, looking confused by all the activity on the ragged lot. Ten-year-old Danny told her he wanted to carve totems into the upright railroad ties that surround the Garden. He told her about how many kids were involved. She didn't listen.

"Who are you with? the city?" she asked me. "No, I'm with these kids over here," I replied. She couldn't comprehend. Independent activity. Not sponsored by the city, not a do-gooder liberal empowerment project. Independent.

The GreenHouse Garden has since evolved to where it now houses a collective garden, the Diggers' Plot, as well as a few individual plots. The Diggers' Plot is modeled on the principles of self-sufficiency, self-management, and consensus, with a spirit of cooperation at its heart.
Crabapple and cherry trees dot the landscape. The cherry tree bore fruit for the first time last year, prompting dozens of people to scale its branches to reach the cherries - including a woman in her 50s. Winding paths weave through an herb and plant-tasting area, where gardeners educate neighbors about healthy organic gardening practices like resisting the use of dangerous pesticides and fertilizers that harm the environment, as well as composting.

Future Focus

A lot of powerful creative energy has gone into making the GreenHouse Garden a lovely and sustainable public gathering space. The success of the GreenHouse Garden in challenging the forces of displacement should make us allies in the diverse efforts being made by other groups and organizations to proclaim, loud and clear, that the whitening of West Town and other inner-city neighborhoods must stop.

Too many of us have gotten cynical about opposing displacement. This year, I see the GreenHouse Garden focusing much more energy on generating a challenge to the status quo in the neighborhood, as well as developing further skills in growing food.

If you'd like to join the effort by becoming a partner in the Diggers' Plot, call 773.342.7545 (this number good as of 4/30/99). If enough interest is generated, we may be able to extend our land rescue efforts beyond this lot and into other vacant lands targeted for condo development.

If you don't have the time, but would still like to contribute, garden supplies or plants (especially berry bushes) would be welcomed. You can also bring your vegetable kitchen waste to our compost pile.

Public Art and Right-Wing Politics in Logan Square

 

Public Art and Right-Wing Politics
in Logan Square 

A festive atmosphere greeted the people who assembled recently on a brisk Friday evening for a Halloween Procession at the Logan Square monument. Redmoon Theater's huge handmade puppets and fantastic fire-belching smokestacks loomed over the crowd; giant lantern heads perched high on rolling towers lined the street. Skeletons mounted on curious contraptions spun around on lawn chairs ten feet off the ground, as mythical beasts made of rice paper and bamboo coiled through the crowd.

The homespun percussion of the Jellyeye Drum Theater punctuated the air with the racket of steel drums, pounding sewer pipes, and chimes. Ghostly ghouls handed out skull-shaped maracas to the gathering crowd of several hundred.

Kids went crazy, and so did their Moms and Dads, as Redmoon and Jellyeye's fantastic display worked its magic in the 3rd Annual Halloween Lantern Procession and Spectacle in Logan Square.

But then I noticed other, more troubling things that had nothing to do with creative expression and the excitement of an outdoor festival, but had everything to do with repression.
The flashing blue lights of police cars set the tone of a state of emergency; police barricades lined the street around the monument.

A Redmoon Theater security worker told the group of people I was with to move to the other side of the police barricade; when we laughed and asked why, he said it's not a joke - just do it. The punchline came when another Redmoon volunteer arrived and told us to get back on the other side of the barricade, where we had been.

Just do what you're told, it's ART.

And then I saw what was really the most frightening part of this curious outdoor Halloween parade: 35th Ward Alderwoman Vilma Colom working the crowd, with men dressed in full army fatigues sporting Vilma Colom posters on their backs. A scary middle-school military band (wryly dubbed the Vilma Colom Death Squad Band by one onlooker) heightened the oddly repressive tone of the Community Art Event. As the parade stepped off, Colom's huge campaign banner at the very front of the procession dwarfed the Redmoon sign following her. A few people booed Colom as she passed.

In effect, I saw Redmoon and Jellyeye Theaters mount a spectacular parade that was unfortunately marred by the politicking of Vilma Colom - a notorious advocate for the whitening and gentrification of Logan Square who enjoys ties to the area's right-wing forces.

I think it's tragic to see artists associate with (and get used by) right-wing politicians, no matter how great the art. But that's what I saw this past Halloween on the streets of Logan Square.

Vilma Colom is to Logan Square what Jesse Granato is to Wicker Park/West Town: an effective tool in transforming a low-income mostly Latino neighborhood into a whitewashed haven for yuppies and their dogs.

In 1995, Colom, an ex-Republican (as if it matters), was elected amid a storm of allegations that she was involved in fraudulent absentee voting activities. The other nine candidates in the hotly-contested election held a press conference calling for an investigation of the over 1,000 absentee ballot applications submitted.

Obviously these allegations of wrongdoing did not prevent the well-connected Colom from taking office. Since then, Colom has: opposed scattered-site housing in her ward; opposed the proposed Living Wage Ordinance; opposes the very existence of a church that for 14 years has served as a homeless shelter on Mozart Street, due to pressure from yuppies; and opposed the erection of basketball hoops for kids to use at Unity Park on Kimball Street.

Colom has effectively opposed nearly every initiative benefiting low-income children and adults in Logan Square. One former resident of Logan Square, who worked as a speech pathologist at Darwin Elementary School, got the distinct impression that Colom is "anti-child" every time Colom spoke at the school. Local businessman and computer consultant Carl Davidson offers that Colom consistently aligns herself with "the most conservative and reactionary politics, with an agenda of 'divide and wreck.' She's like a mafia godfather."

Colom is clearly connected to people involved in questionable activities. In July of this year, the Chicago Tribune reported that both Colom and 33rd Ward Alderman Dick Mell offered to provide character references in support of Thomas Perez, the owner of a vending machine company convicted for failing to report $330,000 in income on his tax returns. Tellingly, Colom received a $1,000 campaign contribution from Perez; Mell has received over $5,000 from Perez in the last ten years.

Colom performs tasks in the Latino community for Dick Mell, because Mell's political machine put her in office in the newly-created Latino ward. Mell has exerted immense influence in the areas of Humboldt Park and Logan Square for years, aligning himself with right-wing Latino(a)s like Colom. Mell shares Colom's staunch opposition to all gains made by progressive and radical Latino(a)s.

Colom also enjoys the patronage of right-wing Puerto Rican real estate lawyer Gloria Chevere, who publishes a small and rabidly reactionary newspaper, El Pito. Chevere has dedicated El Pito to attacks on progressive/radical Puerto Ricans and organizations. An example of El Pito's dirty work was its attack on Jaime Delgado and the Humboldt Park Infant Mortality Reduction Initiative (HIMRI) early last year, a politically-motivated attack that helped fuel the closing of the large and effective health organization by the State.

Jaime Delgado, a prominent and respected Puerto Rican independentista and progressive, served as HIMRI's executive director at the time the agency was shut down. State Reps. Edgar Lopez and Miguel Santiago were instrumental in calling on Republican Gov. Jim Edgar to close HIMRI. Both Lopez and Santiago are affiliated with Chevere.

Now Puerto Ricans suffer the distinction of being the only ethnic group in the city with rising infant mortality rates. These rates rose in the wake of the state's closing of HIMRI's doors a year and a half ago.

Chevere has also opposed the grassroots organizing of Humboldt Park's Puerto Rican Cultural Center for years. The Center is the most staunch and effective voice in opposition to the displacement of low-income Puerto Ricans/Latinos in the area.

A man named Rafael Marrero edits Chevere's paper; recently Vilma Colom hired Marrero to work in her ward office. According to sources close to the Puerto Rican Cultural Center, Marrero is an agent provocateur who infiltrated the Center and orchestrated this year's media attack on both it and on Clemente High School; FBI agents have admitted that Marrero is working for the agency.

Marrero also orchestrated and carried out a bombing in December of 1992, hoping to pin the blame on the Center and to draw a connection between the Center and clandestine activities-a connection that the Center flatly and thoroughly denies.

So why is Vilma Colom so interested in supporting community art events such as Redmoon's Halloween Lantern Procession and Spectacle in Logan Square?

Artists, writers, and other creative types, especially white ones, have played a key role in the right-wing's attack on low-income communities and people of color. One focus of that agenda in Logan Square is to displace low-income residents living in the neighborhood. Cultural expression often gets used as veneer for this agenda.

While no yuppie is going to buy and move into a home with a crack house down the street, many artists will, sort of a "walk on the wild side". Peachy white faces make the yuppie less apprehensive. Huge profits are reaped by Developers; Latinos, African-Americans, poor whites and others face ever-more crowded conditions as they get pushed farther into the margins of mainstream culture and consciousness, into the margins of the city, less and less visible as the city bleaches.

It is a vicious process of trampling, called gentrification and visible as displacement of all who do not fit the mold of middle class or white.

What I'm troubled by here is the way non-political artists link with this right-wing agenda, wittingly or unwittingly.

The dominant European art tradition lifts the arts and artists above locality and out of time; this is an idealistic tradition removed from such mundane concerns as local politics and topics such as displacement. Issues such as displacement evidently do not directly impact such artists in obvious ways-we can simply move on to the next hip area (Hermosa? Austin? Aurora?)

I think the price of this tradition is far too high - even for the artists involved. This tradition devolves too easily into an art without content, without context or commitment, an art that is allowed freedom of expression or is even promoted by the powers-that-be, as long as it doesn't say too much.

I think this tradition also involves a refusal of empathy and compassion, a denial of responsibility bordering on complicity, a misunderstanding of politics and history.

I also think it requires the luxury of never having to care about much at all.

It may be unlikely that Colom would open the streets of Logan Square to Redmoon Theater if their performance had a heavy dose of real social commentary. But then, if we are creative, there are other ways to open streets, which are intended to be, after all, public.

If no one pays attention - including artists - Logan Square will soon go the way of Lincoln Park and Wicker Park, areas where wealthy whites have pushed out Latinos over the past few decades. This process is not natural or inevitable, but one fostered by people in positions of power such as Vilma Colom, people who are willing to sell out their communities and constituencies - and use artists in the process.

In presenting an outdoor public event like the Halloween Procession, why did Redmoon Theater and Jellyeye associate themselves with Vilma Colom? There are plenty of progressive forces in the area as well. Will artists simply continue to allow themselves to be used by forces bent on destroying poor inner-city communities? I hope not.

At Logan Square on Halloween, in the midst of wildly creative and curiously fantastic puppets - but also in the midst of police lines and army fatigues and right-wing politicking - I saw what looked like the cynicism, indifference, and nihilism at the heart of Euro-culture, billowing out of immense fantastic smoke stacks belching fire. Amid skeletons and ghouls I perceived what felt like a spiritual death, a numbness that overcomes us when we are indifferent to and ignore the realities faced by those unlike ourselves - the reality of those who suffer most from the bleaching of the inner city, of those who suffer most intimately the social, economic, and racial reality of displacement.

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David Meyers

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Local Opposition: Progressive Logan Square

One group working for positive social change in Vilma Colom's fiefdom is Progressive Logan Square (PLS). In existence for one year, PLS is a neighborhood-based political organization that seeks to impact electoral politics, and has coordinated community forums on such issues as immigrants' rights and welfare reform.

Progressive Logan Square is currently organizing support for the Humboldt Park United Methodist Church at 2120 N. Mozart - a church that has opened its doors to homeless people for 14 years, offering shelter, warm meals, and GED classes. The church and its pastor are now coming under attack by newcomer yuppies in the area, who are working with Vilma Colom to try to shut the shelter down.

Progressive Logan Square shares the same principles of the national New Party - radical democracy and a fair economy - although it is not an official branch of that party.
Progressive Logan Square can be reached by calling 773.489.2726.

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Redmoon Theater: Barriers and Bridges

Redmoon Theater founder Blair Thomas finds that making art in a community setting is a tricky thing. While acknowledging that all art takes place in a political context, he says the group decided not to engage in political discussions a few years back. What the artists of Redmoon have to offer are their skills as theatermakers, with a vision of "creating a language that can communicate across age, gender, and cultural differences," says Thomas.

Thomas also acknowledges that Redmoon's work "doesn't have a level of political offense," and swims more in the waters of contemporary mythology than in agitprop. This choice "makes us politically safe," he says. He adds that the group does have an interest in being provocative by disrupting the normal way things are, and sees the Halloween Procession as "a mardi-gras for our culture, where the world is turned upside down."

About Redmoon's decision to associate with the powers-that-be to mount the Halloween Procession in Logan Square, Thomas had this to say: "All Vilma Colom has done is put her name on our events. She gets the streets closed for us and gets the fire permits. She hasn't given us any dough."

According to Thomas, Redmoon's responsibility to the Logan Square community is "to create theater events that cherish and celebrate life." About the role of artists in displacing Latinos, he believes that action to transform that dynamic are unclear.

Skills-sharing seems to be what Redmoon does best in the community. In the group's eight years in Logan Square, its artists have conducted Kids' Free Art Classes, and is now working with foster children from all over the city to create the upcoming Redmoon Winter Pageant.

Redmoon's most successful outreach project, Dramagirls, links women artists with 20 junior high school girls at Salmon P. Chase Elementary School in a mentorship program. Dramagirls provides a safe space for girls to develop skills like singing, improvisation, and puppet-making as well as in reading and math.

You can reach Redmoon Theater at 773.388.9031.