When I was a boy, my grandfather, José Chavira, told me sad and disturbing stories of growing up in southwestern Texas. Born in Shafter, Texas, in 1896, José was a U.S. citizen but was culturally Mexican. He never learned more than fragments of English. Despite their shared nationality, José regarded European Americans as alien and dangerous.
In this excerpt from my book, he recounts his early life, including the years as an itinerant cotton picker.
My grandfather would reflect on those times as bleak and filled with humiliation. “You have to understand that Gringos were free to treat us like dogs, and they did. When we got to a town we didn’t know, sometimes I would make the mistake of going into a store where Mexicans weren’t allowed. ‘Get out of here, you goddamned Mexican!’ a clerk or customer would yell. All you could do was run out and not say a word,” he continued. “If you even looked like you might cause trouble, then the cops would come, beat you, and lock you up.”
He had a brush with Texas justice after his brother Cecilio had exchanged gunfire with Sierra Blanca’s sheriff. Cecilio was a bootlegger who smuggled sotol, a potent local brew, across the border into Texas. The sheriff and a few deputies had attempted to nab Cecilio along with his cargo. Then a gunfight followed. Reportedly, Cecilio, a marksman, shot the sheriff ’s hat off his head, leaving a welt on his scalp. Cecilio managed to escape, and the sheriff was determined to find him. Instead, he came across José.
“He and his deputies grabbed me and told me to take them to Cecilio,” he said. “I really didn’t know anything about what had happened and had no idea where he was. They started yelling and punching me, and then they tied me to a post. The sheriff pistol-whipped me until blood was running down my face and onto my chest. I wouldn’t beat an animal the way they beat me.”
They went away, leaving José to broil in the desert sun. “Everyone could see me all bloody and thirsty, but they were afraid to help me because of what the sheriff might do.”
By chance, the sheriff ’s mother happened onto the scene. She asked José what had happened, and when he told her, she became angry with her son. The woman untied José and gave him some water. When her son returned, she berated him. Still, the sheriff took José to jail for more questioning.
Apparently, realizing that further grilling was useless, the sheriff freed him. “My brother Gustavo came for me, and he had a clean shirt. He had heard I was all covered in blood. You know, not long after that, the sheriff was diagnosed with fatal cancer. He committed suicide by cutting his own throat. I have always believed that God punished him for his cruelty.”
Ricardo Chavira Chicano 