The Brick People

by Alejandro Morales

  “I present to you Mr. Walter Simons, the patron,” Rosendo said, projecting his powerful voice to the back of the room. The crowd became silent and listened to Walter’s words as Rosendo translated them.

  “I have a few announcements, but first let me wish you, on behalf of my brother Joseph, his wife Laura, their son James and my father and mother and the rest of my family, a very Merry Christmas. Although we will have to leave shortly, we are very happy to be here with you this evening.”

  Rosendo led the workers in applause and continued to translate what Walter said.

  “Now the announcements. As you are aware, we have only one machine here at Simons. However, I believe that this yard will someday produce millions of brick and the sooner we install another machine, the sooner we’ll get started on reaching that goal. So we plan to set up machine, number two a few days after the New Year. We will begin to build more houses for all of you with families. I am also aware of the need for a priest and church here and for a school for your children. I intend to resolve those needs. You probably already know that we have a post office here. You can receive and mail your letters from here. You don’t have to leave our town for anything. In January, the general store will be open for business. You will be able to buy groceries and anything else you might need. If we don’t carry what you need, we’ll get it for you. A doctor will come once a month to see any worker or member of his family who is ailing. If you have any problems, please talk with your foreman, Gonzalo Pedroza. If any legal matters come up, any enforcement problems, Gonzalo is the legally designated law enforcer in Simons. Gonzalo, would you please step forward?”

  Gonzalo moved to the front of the crowd where Walter pinned a silver star to his lapel and handed over a holstered pistol and belt which he hung around his waist. Walter shook his sheriff’s hand and walked away. After the translation, Walter and family exited, followed by Rosendo. With badge and pistol, Gonzalo now stood alone by the table where the women again served food. The music and drinking began and as the night passed on to Christmas morning, the workers and their families paid their respects to Gonzalo Pedroza.

  From that moment, Simons, California, was complete for growth. Joseph was still the administrator of the family investments. Nonetheless, since the dispute over the ownership of the houses in Pasadena, two clear and powerful forces had emerged in the family. As cooperation in the business intensified, an alienation based on driving personal competition grew between the two brothers. Although Joseph, Walter, Orin Elmer and the immediate family owned the Simons Brick Company, only Joseph and Walter administered the economics and expansion plans. Joseph concentrated his energies on the Pasadena yard and considered investing in cousin John Simons’ Los Angeles yard and possibly starting another in Santa Monica. Likewise, Walter was completely involved in the expansion of the yard and town he founded in Simons. He considered the Simons project his personal toy yard and the town and people who worked and lived there his dolls, who existed only for his enjoyment and waited for his bidding.

  By the middle of February, 1906 a second water tank had been installed and the fifty new houses had running water. Machine number two was in full operation and Gonzalo had hired twenty-five more men, again all from the state of Guanajuato. His crew now numbered seventy-five. Twenty of the newly hired men were married. Not once did Gonzalo have to discipline or remind the men of the fast work pace demanded by the patron. Bricks had to be produced to fill the orders from Montebello, Whittier and Los Angeles. Walter, determined to meet small and large invoices, urged his foreman to keep the men working fourteen-hour days. The workers started at five in the morning, had a half-hour lunch at twelve and left at seven in the evening.

  During these long days, Gonzalo constantly watched over the production. As he observed the men work, he often indicated disapproval with a slow movement of his square head. One evening as Gonzalo walked by one of the large two-story brick kilns burning in the early cool night, he noticed a recently hired man sitting near a fire opening. The man stared, sitting motionless, into the light of the burning gas piped through the kiln. Gonzalo moved toward him.

  “Well, get to work!” Gonzalo yelled.

  The man turned his back to the light. He held a pad of paper with his left hand and a pencil with his right. Gonzalo recognized Epifanio Trejo, who had been employed for two weeks. Epifanio and his family came directly to Simons from El Barral, a small rancho in Guanajuato, Mexico. Startled, Epifanio did not answer.

  “What are you doing?” Gonzalo insisted.

  “I’m writing,” Epifanio answered nervously, as if he had been caught not working on company time. Nonetheless, he looked directly into the eyes of Gonzalo Pedroza.

  “You are writing?” Gonzalo, surprised and angered, interrogated Epifanio. “Why are you writing when you should be watching the burning of the kiln?”

  “My shift is over now, Meester Gonzalo. We don’t have lamps in the house. I get up and return home in the dark. We don’t have candles either, so with the light of the burning gas, I write letters.” Epifanio’s eyes confronted the foreman’s.

  “Tell me, who is so important to risk your job by writing letters?”

  Gonzalo’s words were hot and Epifanio moved away from the fire.

  “I repeat, it is not my turn to work. I write to my relatives in Mexico. I write to my brother-in-law Malaquías de León,” Epifanio explained cautiously.

  “It’s true, your shift is over. Well, tell your brother-in-law, to come to Simons, that we need more workers,” Gonzalo said as he walked away from the kiln and Epifanio Trejo. Suddenly he stopped.

  “Finish your letter. And tell your wife to come by the store tomorrow for some lamps and oil. I’ll give you a good price, so you tell her to charge it to your account,” Gonzalo said as he moved from the light into the dark, starry night.

  The same stars that had shone over the Los Angeles night dominated the morning when Walter brought William Melone to the Simons Brick Company. Hurriedly and excitedly, Walter opened the door to the office. He was accompanied by Laura Simons, who had come to prepare the letters that Walter was to dictate to government officials about the burning city of San Francisco which had been struck by a massive earthquake the day before. The devastation was complete and fires continued to ravage the city. At one o’clock in the morning, Walter had received a telegram from several city officials in San Francisco requesting that he prepare his brick-making business to work around the clock to produce material for the rebuilding of the city. Walter did not know the extent of the damage; however, from the opening phrase of the telegram, “San Francisco wiped out, burning,” he understood that a disaster had occurred in the north. He realized that a great city was being destroyed and he and his company were to participate in the reconstruction of that great city.

  Walter sent William Melone for Gonzalo. Upon their return to the office, Walter explained to Gonzalo that William was assigned the job of general superintendent. Gonzalo now had someone to answer to, and all decisions regarding hiring, firing and housing had to be cleared through William. That morning they made plans to install three more machines and to expand the brickyard in four directions.

  “By the end of May we should have eighty thousand pallets and a capacity of one hundred thousand bricks per day,” Walter said to William and Gonzalo. “We will increase our labor force to one hundred men or more. Gonzalo, you have done a good job of hiring. Hire twenty-five more, but clear them with Mr. Melone. Start working twenty-four-hour shifts. Not only the kiln tenders, but the rest of the production has to proceed day and night until we have a large surplus. I want to outproduce the other yards.”

  Gonzalo walked through the red dust of the mandala, acknowledging the men who built the racks and drying pallets, those who prepared the red clay, those who watered the wet, long, rectangular cake, those who watched the machine cut the brick, those who placed the brick on pallets to dry, those who loaded the brick on wagons, and those who pitched five or six bricks at
a time to other men who stacked the thousands of bricks into gigantic blocks. Gonzalo stood between machine number one and two and ordered the men to gather before him.

  “Starting at seven in the morning there will be two shifts: two twelve-hour shifts. The patron and the new superintendent, William Melone, want you to know that last night a disaster took place in San Francisco. The patron received a telegram notifying him that an earthquake destroyed the city, and that it is up to us to produce the brick to reconstruct the city. That is why we must work twenty-four hours. The men on my right take the first shift and those on the left take the second. Now form two groups,” Gonzalo ordered.

  “We will have fewer men on the machines. We must work harder! Well, what do you say?” he asked, knowing the response. They had only one choice and none of the men wanted to leave.

  “We are not afraid of hard work!” a worker yelled from the back of the group.

  “That’s right! We’ll give the patron all the brick he wants!” a slim man yelled and coughed.

  “Very well, the first shift starts at seven a.m. the second at seven at night.”

  Gonzalo walked through the one hundred men who discussed the earthquake. He had not gotten to know any of the men well, although he knew most by first name. He was strictly a foreman to them and not much else. He was never invited to their homes, but at times he would socialize by having a drink or playing cards. Gonzalo Pedroza, man of authority, was alone. He recognized Epifanio Trejo who listened intently, along with five other men, to Galindo Correaga, one of the older men of the crew. Galindo was speaking about one of his seven daughters who was nick-named El Eco.

  “Didn’t you hear the dogs barking, howling last night? My daughter El Eco heard them and she started in also. She was in a deep sleep when she began to describe what she saw.” Garlindo Correaga captured the attention of Gonzalo and the others who moved closer to hear about El Eco’s vision.

  “The child got up from bed. She fell to the floor and her body contorted. She spoke in English and Spanish. She felt an enormous weight on her body and said it was tons of bricks, that a whole building had fallen on her. She saw the city destroyed before her eyes. She suffered great pain which caused her to see everything clearly. Her vision penetrated the earth itself. She witnessed fire consuming the city and she heard the screams of children who burned. The earth moved, El Eco told us, the earth shook. And then she stared at the earth and told us of a plumed serpent so large, so great, that it could not fit in our mind, but she saw it all. That serpent was an energy that twisted and turned within the earth, causing great tremors. El Eco said that a part of the great serpent ran throughout the state, north and south. For a long time she did not move or speak and then it was as if she had died.

  “Oh God, I said, and then she began to cry and all the children came into the room. And there we were, all of us, crying because El Eco had gone. Suddenly her body twisted violently as if it were burning and slowly she became tranquil. But before she slept peacefully, she told us that the great serpent would twist and turn until we as a people would have the necessary children to reconstruct a homeland here in this place.”

  Galindo Correaga spoke his words with a smile. The silence which followed was broken by a man who tried to understand.

  “Your daughter is crazy. Take her to the hospital,” the man said and walked away.

  “That is enough stories; earthquakes are earthquakes and nothing more. You act like a bunch of superstitious Indians! Now get to work!” Gonzalo shouted.

  “I believe El Eco is right. In space, there exist energies that come from great distances that cause these disasters and that communicate through imbalanced people like El Eco,” Epifanio Trejo spoke with Atilano Castro in front of an enormous fired kiln.

  “It is God on earth,” Epifanio concluded.

  The sun lay low in the Southern California sky. Its light spread across the two hundred-and-fifty acre Simons Brickyard, making the earth of the mandala redder than natural. From where Gonzalo advanced to the general store, children played and mothers worked at homemaking as he passed. The images of a great plumed snake and his calling the workers superstitious Indians aroused latent emotions deep in his mind. Gonzalo and Pascuala, childless, lived comfortably in Simons, but still the deep feelings of their history rushed forth to identify and remind them where they were and who possessed the power. Gonzalo walked with hard fists, contemplating the loss of power to William Melone. A pyramid appeared in the structures of his reason and he saw himself as the third man from the top. Before this, he had answered only to Mr. Simons, but now he would have to deal with Mr. Melone who had the power to fire and throw him out of Simons. To survive and maintain his position, he had to please William Melone at all costs.

  Roberto Lacan was the first person Gonzalo saw upon entering the general store. He had given Roberto the job of managing the general store. Roberto, who could read, write and knew basic mathematics, explained the system of credit for the workers set up by Walter Simons. Roberto, a twenty-two-year-old from Guanajuato, had left his studies in Mexico City because of political harassment. He had supported Francisco I. Madero and the Flores Magon brothers, as did his father, mother and brothers, all of whom paid with their lives for the relationship. Roberto and two sisters were the only ones to survive the punishment of the Rurales in Guanajuato and the federales in Mexico City. In Mexico, as the political and economic situation deteriorated, thousands of Mexicans exited the country for the United States.

  The exclusive few who came to Simons discovered a bucolic peace and a perfect isolation from the turmoils of the world.

  Roberto was hired with the approval of Walter Simons on the condition that he keep quiet about his family and that he not stir in the workers any desire to return to Mexico. He agreed and told Gonzalo that it would be difficult to convince any Mexican living in Simons to return to the living conditions of the mother country.

  As William walked through the general store, he noted the supplies that were needed and listened to Roberto’s suggestions explained in broken English. William noticed Gonzalo’s silent presence.

  “How did they take the news?” William asked as he set pen and paper down on the counter. “Very well,” Gonzalo answered.

  “No complaints?” William smiled.

  “No.” Gonzalo watched Roberto move behind the counter.

  “Good, now let’s work them,” William said enthusiastically. “Gonzalo, the store looks real good. Smart move hiring Roberto. I’ll see you here at seven sharp. You’re doing excellent work, Gonzalo.”

  William glanced at Roberto but ignored him. He took Gonzalo by the arm.

  “Good work,” William whispered maliciously, and left Gonzalo and Roberto alone in an immense silence.

  The square face of Gonzalo had never felt the wine as warm and kind as on that evening in the middle of June in 1906. It would be a warm summer, he thought, as his house on Vail became larger. He wondered how objects, like a house, get smaller as you move away from them and how they grow as you approach them. He stopped at the front of the house. The lamps were lit. Pascuala did not like being in a dark house; consequently, she lit every lantern every night.

  Gonzalo’s house was one of the three best in Simons. It had three bedrooms instead of two, a large kitchen, living room and a very large service porch. He checked the street and saw that he was alone. He pulled from his inside coat pocket a small square mirror. Looking into it, he tugged at his moustache and pushed his hair in place. He shined his badge, unbuckled the gunbelt, and slung the holstered pistol over his shoulder. Pascuala came to mind. Three years they were married, and still their love had not engendered a child. Children were important. Pascuala, like Gonzalo, came from a large family whose women were proud, strong mothers of many sons and daughters. He opened the door and walked through the living room to the kitchen. Pascuala had prepared dinner as usual. The house was in perfect order. She heated tortillas on the hornilla on the stove.

  “B
uenas noches, Gonzalo. I’m glad you arrived early,” Pascuala said with a strong, encouraging tone of happiness.

  “Gracias.” Gonzalo, spiritually uplifted by her happy attitude, sat and she served while he ate.

  “Do you have plenty of wood?” he asked, puzzled by her mood.

  “There is enough. We have plenty of everything, thanks to you, Gonzalo.” She wrapped three tortillas in the basket on the table. “This morning when I went for water I ran into Mrs. Narvarte, Mariquita Carrillo and Dolores Correaga. They told me that more machines were going to be installed.”

  “That’s right, two more. There will be six by the end of the month,” he answered, reaching for another tortilla.