“Skid Row” and Filipino Communities

“‘Skid Row’: Filipinos, Race and the Social Construction of Space in San Diego.” An interesting essay on San Diego’s Filipino community, by Rudy P. Guevarra, Jr.

The first real Filipino enclave that I encountered was in Stockton, CA. When attending Filipino dances there with my parents, they would sometimes eat at a Filipino (or was it Chinese?) restaurant in an area known as “skid row.” As an outsider to Stockton, the place seemed a little scarey. But inside the warmth of a Filipino cafe, the place seemed friendly, noisy, and welcoming.

The California town in which I was raised, Santa Cruz, did not have a geographically specific Filipino community. But it did have a Filipino community, probably larger than one would think. They were spread out through the neighborhoods, primarily in the working class and middle class areas of town. they had a Filipino Community Club, branches of a Filipino lodge (Caballeros de Dimas-Alang), A Filipino women’s club, a branch of a worker’s organization (Legionarios del Trabajo), and they regularly held dances and community events in the local Portuguese Hall and Moose Lodge.

After reading Sandy Lydon’s book, Chinese Gold: the Chinese in Monterey Bay Region, I learned that the strong anti-Chinese movement in Santa Cruz during the late 19th and early 20th century made it difficult for the Chinese to maintain and expand on their “Chinatown” in that area, and many ended up migrating to Watsonville, where they were more welcome, or to Salinas to work in the fields (and Salinas had the 2nd largest Chinatown in California south of San Francisco in the early 20th century), or to Monterey to work in the fishing industry (where Chinese fishing villages dotted the coast south of Monterey). Because Filipinos often gravitated to a Chinatown—which no longer existed in Santa Cruz after WWII—their population (in the sense of a physical community) became more or less invisible (to the white residents) in Santa Cruz. Still, there was a Filipino community in the tiny town of Davenport (the large Celebrado family practically made up a whole community themselves)–because many Filipino fieldworkers labored in the agricultural fields north of Santa Cruz. And during the 1960s-70s, some Filipinos arrived in Santa Cruz and worked in healthcare and in factories like Plantronics and Lipton Tea. I’m just surveying what I know about this community from my memory — but I’m thinking about looking deeper into the history of Filipinos in the Santa Cruz county area.

Still, the lack of the visible markers of an Asian “community”(clusters of Asian businesses in shopping centers or urban enclaves) doesn’t mean they are not there.

F is for the Filipino American Farmer

Aileen Suzara (Kitchen Kwento) contemplates the history of farming in her family and among Filipinos in the U.S. in “F is for the Filipino American Farmer.” I’m reminded of my mother’s constant gardening, the sounds of her puttering around outside with her rake, shovel, or hoe (rhythmic sound of metal against earth); the gurgling of the water in our pipes as she watered plants and fruit trees. Her mother, my grandmother, Matea, was a farmer in the Philippines. She grew eggplants and tomatoes, and sold them in the town market. As a child, my mother helped her out; even when she was quite old, gardening was always my mother’s joy. My father had a different relationship to farming. He came to the U.S. in 1929, and worked the agricultural fields of the western state as a migrant laborer; it was hard, tiring, thankless work, especially during the Great Depression era.

“On Community”

Raymond Williams: On Community. From a post by Thivai Abhor in his blog, Dialogic. Useful for me, as I am rethinking and rewriting my ideas on community, as initially set out in my dissertation. Yep, I really need to do that. This is also after having read “Reconceptualizing Asian American Communities” by Huping Ling, and Allyson Tintiangco-Cubales’ “Building a Community Center: Filipinas/os in San Francisco’s Excelsior Neighborhood” (from Asian America: Forming New Communities, Expanding Boundaries).

APIA Panel – Poets and the Avant Garde

I’ll be participating in the APIA Panel on Asian Pacific Islander American poetry and poetics today:

APIA AVANT GARDE

Bay Area APIA poets and the Avant Garde
Sunday, December 18, 2011, 5:00 pm, $6-$10

Panel discussion on Bay Area Asian-Pacific-Islander-American poets and the avant-garde. In this panel, authors, editors, and educators will discuss APIA poetry, and their relationships with avant-garde poetries, the historical contexts for today’s poetries, and challenges or obstacles to writing with consideration to aesthetics and ethnic identity. Participants include Jai Arun Ravine, Margaret Rhee, Eileen Tabios, Truong Tran, and Jean Vengua, and others TBA , and moderated by Barbara Jane Reyes. Venue at

Artists’ Television Access
992 Valencia Street
San Francisco, CA 94110
(415) 824-3890
ata@atasite.org

Circulating Discourses

I’ve been thinking about the relation of the U.S. Filipino newspapers to contemporary Filipino writing (1). Looking at, say, the so-called “Manong” generation and the generation of the 60s-70s, separated by a world war, it doesn’t seem useful to make a simple genealogical connection of the sort that claims direct influence by U.S. Filipino journalistic writing. However, if we think in terms of multiple, circulating discourses in both periods, some interesting relationships appear.

What were those discourses? I can begin with the pragmatic (yet often dramatic) language of journalism (drawing from the Philippines’ tradition of journalistic advocacy), which, among Filipinos was transnational, in some cases bi- or tri-lingual, concerned with both news from the Philippines, and, in the 1930s, very much concerned with local labor and civil rights issues on the West Coast, as well as independence issues.

Reports of strikes and union organizing often appeared in the Filipino newspapers, but they also dovetailed with labor journals and pamphlets of the era, propagandizing the narrative of solidarity with all workers, or in some cases, primarily with Filipino workers.

Journalism was also the language and sign of literacy among farmworkers, as well as Filipinos working in the trades. The numbers compiled in subscription drives spoke of readers. Literacy was important to Filipinos. My father–who worked in the agricultural fields and fisheries during the 1920s-30s–attended high school, but never made it to college. He was also an autodidact; I still have some of his “Teach Yourself” books on literature, economics, physics, math. I remember his satisfaction at reading the daily newspaper, the crackle of its pages, when he unfolded it and sat down to read, the pride with which he conveyed the news to his family.

The discourse of literacy existed side by side with oral discourse. Those who couldn’t read were likely read to. News (also stories, poems, essays) flowed through both channels. And, because most of the Filipinos living on the West Coast were migrant workers, the news literally flowed through channels of migrating labor. Talk-story was surely an important way of disseminating the news, and of developing the narrative of Filipinos living and working in the U.S., a life much different from that of Filipinos in the Philippines.

Some academic discourse circulated too. For some Filipino graduates on the West Coast, this had a strong sociological focus, because their white professors and mentors were encouraging sociological studies of Asians and Filipinos in the U.S. during that era. Some of their students (Trinidad Rojo, for example), began to study and write about various aspects of the Filipino experience, and U.S. Filipino newspapers published their essays.

Writerly discourse, especially during the late 1930s, was also in play. Reports of writers, new books, and anthologies in the Philippines reached the ears of Filipino writers in the U.S. who were struggling to find publishers. Some of this talk took place in cafes (such as those mentioned by Carlos Bulosan in his article, “Look at All These Women.”) Some of it occurred in letters; editor Victorio Velasco and writer Gregory San Diego often exchanged lists of potential publishers, and expressed opinions about the merits of various writers and their work.

In 1938, the formation of the progressive Philippine Writer’s League (and its affiliation with the equally progressive American Writers’ League–read: Popular Front writers such as Dos Passos, Fante, and Steinbeck, and social realism) and the former’s contest to select the ‘best’ writers in “poetry, novel, drama, history, biography, essay, and [short] story,” caused great excitement, because U.S. Filipino writers were also to be included.

Any discourse of gender in regards to the pinay tended to be limited to certain arenas (for example, beauty contests and subscription drives). But it is there in other forms, if you look for it. See, for example, Helen Rillera’s newspaper article, “The Filipina in Filipino Society” (Aside from what’s been published in oral histories, it’s difficult to know how much writing Filipinas produced in the U.S. in the early period, since their work was so seldom published in the newspapers). It seems to me that the discourse of masculinity was strongly politicized in the late 1920s-1930s (given the pressures of the migrating labor force, labor organizing, and racist legislation), framed in the male-dominated genre of newspaper writing.

Move, now, to the next generation in the 1960s-70s. Sons and daughters of farmworkers, labor contractors, service workers, union organizers, war brides, merchant seamen, and soldiers. Were these discourses still circulating? In what form?

To be continued…

1. …ever since a discussion I had with Prof. Genaro Padilla (Sept. 2011), in which he, in passing, mentioned “circulating discourses” in reference to U.S. Filipino newspapers and writing.

Asia Writes is Closing

The Asia Writes website–a great source for writing submissions, as well as freelance work–is closing due to “financial constraints.” Sorry to see it go.

Bindlestiff

Bindlestiff performing arts studio is finally (after 8 years) reopening Sept. 15 at its new location at Howard & Sixth in SF, and could use your help… Check it out their adopt-a-theater “thermometer” HERE.

ACR 74: Filipinos and Filipino Americans

Today [Aug. 22], the California State Assembly passed ACR 74, Assemblymember Luis A. Alejo’s (D-Salinas) landmark resolution apologizing for nearly 100 years of discrimination toward Filipinos and Filipino Americans.

Pinays as curators of family histories: Jeannie Cordero and Luis Agudo

A few days ago, I was lucky enough to be contacted by Luis Agudo’s granddaughter, Jeannie Cordero. Luis Agudo was the founder and editor of the Philippine Independent News (1921) in Salinas—later to be renamed the Philippines Mail (1930), which would be edited by Delfin Cruz. Agudo was also a co-founder with D.L. Marcuelo of the Three Stars, a progressive Filipino newspaper published out of Stockton California in the 1930s. While doing my research on Filipino periodicals I was especially struck by the courageous writing and activism of both Luis Agudo and D.L. Marcuelo, as well as Delfin Cruz. They were instrumental in forming the Filipino Labor Union (FLU), and in organizing major strikes in support of Filpino farmworkers in California, including the successful Salinas Lettuce Strike, and had suffered harassment from vigilantes and local police.

However, it has been difficult finding information on Marcuelo, and especially Agudo. I knew that Agudo had written and had published his testy manifesto, Filipinos Digging Their Graves, criticizing American imperialism and taking Filipinos–especially the elite class in the Philippines–to task for allowing the U.S. colonial government too much latitude over the economic affairs of the Islands. His writing had a blunt, pragmatic tone, and he, more than many, seemed very aware of the implications of the Philippines’ “benevolent” colonial relationship with the U.S.

Since the outset of Spanish occupation of the Philippines, we had been artificially brought up and we are still undergoing artificial mental development and artificial leanings and tastes under the “benevolent” tutelage of America. Our country is also undergoing artificial economic development. And what would be the inevitable outcome of all this? And what would happen with the artificially, economically developed Philippines with its artificially developed people? — Luis Agudo

The tree diagram, positioned as front matter in the book, illustrates Agudo’s view of American imperialism in the Philippines. The labels read: “(Baliti) Foreign Control” (at the center of the foliage). Branching out at the top of the tree from Foreign Control are “Dying Language,” “Dying Retail Trade,” “Dying Industry,” and “Dying Initiative.” The tree’s trunk is labeled as “Dying Nationalism.”

I also knew that he was “a trained engineer turned social critic and newspaperman” who had also been a teacher in the Philippines. But I couldn’t find a photograph of him, and had very few details of his life.

Imagine my surprise, then, to find that his granddaughter lived about 5 minutes away from me in rural Elkhorn, California! She invited me over to take a look at her collection of materials on Agudo, and I jumped at the opportunity.

After meeting up with Lala Lacuna (Helen Rillera’s daughter) and now Jeannie Cordero, I’m beginning to wonder about the role that pinays play as curators of Filipino family histories. Certainly there are pinoys who collect Filipino historical materials in the U.S., but I wonder how their collecting patterns–and the narratives that emerge in the collecting process–differ from that of pinays. In my meetings with both of these women (and even though my meeting w/Jeannie Cordero was initially about Luis Agudo), I think that there was an emphasis in our “talk-story” on the experiences of Filipinas, and how their stories are often neglected.

As with Lala Lacuna, my meeting with Jeannie Cordero took place at the dining room table, over a light meal—in this case, kinilaw, a ceviche-like dish, in this case made with sea-bass, fresh-caught, and concocted by Cordero’s husband, Michael. Very tasty.

Cordero brought out photographs and documents, and I finally got a look at Luis Agudo:

He looks like a very serious-minded young man here.

Elizabeth Shiffer

Agudo’s life seemed to have been devoted mainly to his newspapers and labor organizing struggles. Yet he was briefly married to Elizabeth Shiffer, who was part Filipino and part German. Two of their children, Luis and Manuel, died of meningitis.

I learned from Cordero that Agudo had been a printer, working in partnership with several men in Pacific Grove. One of these men was Frank Connor, later a partner in the company that published the early Philippines Mail.

Agudo eventually returned to the Philippines, and died in Baguio in 1982. In 1980, the Philippines Mail, still in operation, published a Golden Anniversary issue, dedicated to Luis Agudo. Then publisher Delfin Cruz and City Editor Frank R. Perez traveled to Baguio to interview Agudo in person.

“The Philippines Mail, at its 50th anniversary, is happy to accord Mr. Luis Agudo this highest distinction of a journalist pioneer and have his picture take the place of honor on the front page of our souvenir book.”

Jeannie Cordero’s materials about Luis Agudo and her family are priceless. They also raise many more questions, among them: What was Agudo’s background in printing, newspaper editing, and writing? What role did Frank Connor play in the publishing of The Philippines Mail? What was the actual working relationship between Agudo and Cruz, and how did Cruz come to take over editorship of the Mail? What was Elizabeth Schiffer’s story? The day-to-day processes of publishing an independent ethnic newspaper during the economic travails of the 1920s–30s are also still to be unraveled. It continues to be a fascinating journey.

Filipino American Exposition

Getting ready to teach at CSUMB (California State Univ. Monterey Bay) tomorrow. Yesterday, I stopped by the office, learned how to use their copier, picked up the student roster, met some faculty, and checked out the classroom. The last time I taught at a college, they were still using VHS players–and that wasn’t so long ago, either. This place seems fairly state-of-the-art, with built-in hookups for my laptop and whiteboards. 8 a.m. tomorrow: “Reading, Writing, and Critical Thinking.” But first — a hair trim, lunch, and a new pair of earrings.

On another front, I’m getting more deeply involved in planning for the Filipino American exposition at the Steinbeck Center in Salinas, to take place in April 2012. We’re getting 8,000 square feet–quite a large area– to use, and it will be happening more or less simultaneously with the international Steinbeck Festival to be held in the same building. This has me thinking about the intersections of U.S. Filipinos in the Depression Era with two of John Steinbeck’s books, The Grapes of Wrath, and In Dubious Battle, and his essays in The Harvest Gypsies. I suspect that the “vigilante raid” Steinbeck mentions on page 56 refers to the burning of Canete’s labor camp in Spreckels, something that I’ve written about in “Depression-era Vigilantes and Filipino Strikers in Salinas.”

Things have to get done way ahead of time for exhibits like these, so we are hustling to put it together now. I’m especially looking forward to working on the music/soundtrack and literary exhibits.

By the way, the irony of the term, “Exposition,” in relation to Filipinos is not lost on me, given that back in the early 20th century Filipinos were put on exhibit along with American Indian and other “savage tribes” in the outer ring of “reservation” areas of International Expositons, such as the St. Louis “White City” Exposition and the Panama Pacific Exposition in San Francisco. But I’m thinking that this is our turn to re-tool the term for our own purposes.