War Day
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pink silks compete with Coors and Steam Beer; enormous floun-ders served in light, bright, Muzaked restaurants; Pinot Chardon-nay and Cabernet Sauvignon; sun-bleached hair and the thick scent of Ray-Ban Coconut V Aloe.
America, in other words, ten years ago.
California today. But also: illegal immigration warnings posted on every wall and in every bus and trolley; Whitley and I on the run; holding camps and returnee camps and prison camps and four new gas chambers in San Quentin; military uniforms everywhere; black market Sony and Panasonic televisions; meatless Fridays and the wonderful red interurban trolleys; "finder" columns in the
Los Angeles Times and the San Francisco Chronicle; the Beach Boys; Meryl Streep defying the police by producing and acting in the banned play Chained.
I am dazed by California. Sometimes, walking the streets with Whitley, I get a joy in me, and I think to myself that the past is returning like a tide, and soon all will again be well. There is energy and movement here—danger too, of course—but there is a little of something else that I think is also an important component of 193
194 WARDAY
the American spirit—frivolity. Not much, I'll grant you, but it isn't dead yet.
Of course, the place is also tension-ridden. In Los Angeles, militant Asian Returnists whose native countries won't let them come back compete for barrio space with Chicanos and hundreds of thousands of illegal immigrants from the other states. The American illegals are by far the worst off. Because they are de facto criminals, they are helpless and are ruthlessly exploited. The division between rich and poor is exceedingly sharp. Beverly Hills and Nob Hill glitter with Rolls-Royces and Mercedes-Benzes.
In California, the rest of the United States is thought of as a foreign country, poverty-stricken and potentially dangerous. The local press reports it only incidentally. A bus plunge killing a hundred in Illinois will appear at the bottom of page forty of a Times
that headlines the discovery of strontium 90 in Anaheim.
It is possible to be greedy here. It is possible to be blind. Impressions:
A movie is being made at the corner of Market and Powell as we leave San Francisco—massive reflectors, Brooke Shields looking like a goddess as she steps from her air-conditioned trailer.
There are casting calls in Billboard West and The Hollywood
Reporter
Street-corner newsstands, which used to line up the porno papers, now feature half a dozen small-time political journals, state and Chicano separatist papers, the Aztlan Revolution, and
Westworld and Ecotopia, the journals of two geographical separatist movements.
In California, more than anywhere else, you hear talk of dividing the United States. "California First" and "Forget the Rest" are common T-shirt slogans.
There is also a lot of radiation paranoia. Vendors commonly advertise their fruits as "radiation-free." There are walk-in clinics where for fifteen cents you can get a whole-body scan or have objects checked. The government regularly warns people to avoid the black market because of the danger of contaminated goods from
"abroad"—which must mean the rest of the United States.
Immensely wealthy Japanese move about in tremendous Nissan limousines with curtains on the windows.
CALIFORNIA DANGERS 195
You can buy all the Japanese and English papers: Asahi Shim-
bun in Japanese, English, and Spanish editions; the London Times
and Express in English, and something called The Overseas Jour-
nal for British residents. It's all about where to get English cars fixed in California, and how to avoid the embarrassment of old-fashioned American hairstyles by going to local branches of chic London salons.
I found it difficult and dangerous to get into state government offices to obtain documents. In fact, I couldn't do it. But there were vast files of them at Berkeley, in the archives of university departments that shall go nameless. They reveal something about the inner structure of California's immigration policies.
They say more than their authors realize.
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009 1500 ZULU OCTOBER 89
FROM: CG U.S. ARMY COMMAND, Fort McPherson, Georgia
TO: 6th ARMY COMMANDER, The Presidio, San Francisco
CLASS: Confidential
Personal for CG Only
1. You are hereby authorized to deploy 7th Army personnel up to a strength of 7,600 as the Task Force for Civilian Migration Control.
2. This task force will assist federal and state governments in the control of civilian movement in Arizona, California, Colorado, Idaho. Nevada. New Mexico, and U t a h .
3. This task force will be under military command but under the general jurisdiction of federal authorities associated with migration control as per the Emergency War A c t . You are to establish appropriate interorganizational mechanisms for coordination purposes between military and government units*
4. You are reminded that the purpose of this command is to assist state governments in maintaining order and providing assistance in the distribution of food rations and other resources as part of the national recovery plan. The primary concern at present is the prevention of overpopulation of Western area states, but particularly California. You are further reminded of the temporary martial-law powers granted to the military under the E m e r -
gency War Act.
5. Task force personnel are to be deployed at critical points at your discretion, but including highway and rail traffic points and additional points where personnel and vehicular traffic r e -
quire military control. Primary traffic centers should include the following:
5.1 ARIZONA
Yuma, Highway IH-10
Junction IH-10 and H -6 0
Kingman, IH-40 and H-93
CALIFORNIA DANGERS 197
5.2 COLORADO
Fruita, IH-70
Cortez, H-666 and H-789
H-40 at Colorado-Utah border
Sterling, IH-76
5.3 IDAHO
Ashton, H-20
Coeur d'Alene, IH-90
Lewiston, H-12
Nampa, IH-80N
5.4 NEVADA
Boulder City, H-93
H-95 at California-Nevada border
Reno, IH-80
Wells, IH-80
Bridgeport, H-31
5.5 NEW MEXICO
Tucumcari, IH-40 and H-54
Gallup, IH-40 and H-66
Lordsburg, IH-10, H-70, and H-90
5.6 UTAH
Thompson, IH-70
Wendover, IH-80
St. George, IH-15
H-73 and H-50 at Nevada-Utah border
6. Personnel under your command should be instructed as to the nature and provisions of the present civilian relocation plan.
This instruction should remain current at all times as to appropriate federal/state documentation approving movement, including: (1) civilian mobility, including (la) authorized travel for individuals and/or families; (lb) relocation for same; and (lc) emergency movement authorizations; (2) military movement; and (3) U.S. government and/or foreign government personnel movement. Considerable falsification and misuse of stolen docu-
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mentation permits are occurring. Wherever possible, cross-verification via TelNEI should be utilized. This is particularly true of permits issued to government personnel*
7. You should assist in the confiscation and/or disposal of con*
traband and/or quarantined materials. Relevant provisions regarding these items and materials are as per DOD 5020.17.
8. Task force personnel will be in place by 1300 ZULU 12 October 1989.
9. This order is in effect until further notice.
END OF MESSAGE
CALIFORNIA DANGERS 199
CONFIDENTIAL BY COURIER
STATE OF CALIFORNIA
TO: GOVERNOR MARK B. CAMPBELL
FROM: Harold White, Special Assistant
DATE: 21 March 1
990
SUBJECT: Current Status of Illegal Immigration
As per your request of 15 March, I have reviewed all current migration statistics from the California Highway Department, the War Recovery Commission, and the U.S. Department of Transportation. All data suggest that California is exceeding its current immigration quotas from other parts of the U.S. by almost 550 percent!
Our best estimates are that some 1,500-1,800 persons a day enter the State, most of whom do so illegally. Our present monthly quotas, as you know, have been set by agreement with the federal government at 1,500 per month through the remainder of 1990. This figure does not include exempt positions in the technological fields, nor the temporary residence " v i s a s " issued to federal government and military personnel and foreign government staff.
The Highway Department Special Study Group believes that most illegals enter through the Arizona and Nevada corridors, which, because of their comparative uninhabited status, remain difficult to patrol. Highway Department figures project that some 40-6,0 percent of illegals enter through these corridors. Another 10 percent enter by low-flying night aircraft from multiple directions.
As a result of this influx, there is an enormous drain on all city and county services throughout the State, including water, sewage, police, and power. It has been impossible to reduce (and certainly to eliminate) the size and number of "tent cities" within the State. You will recall that the troop strength for the Highway Patrol is five times its prewar size.
Despite federal objections, the states of Oregon and Washington have implemented far-reaching statutes to reduce immigration. They are presumably acting within the provisions of the Emergency War Act, which, while it does not permit states to refuse resettlement, does provide for " c o n t r o l " and " r e g -
ulation." I am continuing conversations with the California Attorney General's Office in order to draft proposed legislation on this matter for the upcoming special session of the State legislature.
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In the meantime, you may want to consider the following "emergency"
steps authorized by the legislature and apparently permissible under the EWA:
Recommendation One: Authorize an immediate increase in State Highway Patrol troop strength by 3,000 for purposes of reinforcing border control.
Recommendation Two: Immediately authorize an investigation of special-en-try permits. You should issue a concomitant order to "freeze" such permits except as approved by you.
Recommendation Three: Direct the California National Guard to increase migration support. You may want to authorize some temporary visa control.
Recommendation Four: Place a request before the legislature asking for an additional $ 1 1 million for war relief. As permitted by the EWA, some of these monies can be used for migration control as well as for intrastate relocation.
Recommendation Five: Accelerate deportation activities by eliminating second- and third-stage appeal steps. This will no doubt produce some outcry, although it might be offset by the reduced drain on utilities and services.
Your request for recommendations for control/reduction of displaced illegals in the state will be ready by the end of the month.
The Prison Bus
Jim had noticed that San Francisco International had flights by the dozens to every imaginable destination. The idea of getting a closer look at that airport fascinated us. Quinn objected so strenuously that we had to give her the slip. But we couldn't very well visit the West Coast without obtaining a first-hand report of the condition of air travel in the area.
To make a long story short, if an illegal goes to the airport, said illegal is going to be caught.
The Immigration Police are a fearsome crew, especially when they appear out of nowhere, their dark glasses glittering, their scorpion faces expressionless, and say, "ID, please.,, We were on the concourse, passing an exhibit of new Ford Americars when it happened. We hardly even had our wallets out before there were two military police trotting over, and another three cops.
The reason? We didn't have stamped airline tickets "visible on our persons at all times," to quote the regulation.
The cop put our cards into a processor about the size of a recorder. The alarm flashed green (no doubt to con the criminal into thinking he'd passed the test and thus prevent a struggle). We were made to stand against the wall and searched. Jim's recorder 201
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and his precious box of diskettes were left alone. California actually wanted us to keep our possessions. They don't want potential deportees to leave so much as a used toothpick behind to give them a possible reason to return to the state after they have served their sentences and been ejected.
We were marched out of the airport, past the long rows of ticket counters. Japan AirLines, All-Nippon Airways, Singapore Airlines, Cathay-Pacific, Philippine Airlines, Thai Airlines, British Airways, Caledonian, Lufthansa, Alitalia, Aer Lingus, Air Prance, South African Airways, Pan Am, TWA, Delta.
You can fly from San Francisco to Tokyo ten times a week, to London, Singapore, or Paris eight times, to Bonn five times, to Taiwan four times, to Milan twice.
There is no American city except L.A. with near the service.
New York, Washington, and San Antonio are not on the schedules, of course, and most other American cities are barely there.
You cannot fly from San Francisco to Minneapolis at all, but you can go nonstop to Buenos Aires on British Airways or Pan Am, twice a week.
Just being in that airport—despite the cops and the handcuffs
—made me long for the magnificent ease of jet travel as I remember it. I even have dim recollections of flying in pre-jet days from San Antonio to Corpus Christi with my father, and the hostess handing out mint Chiclets in cellophane packets. I remember my amazement on learning we were a mile high. I feel equally amazed now that I am earthbound.
Things one took for granted never quite seem lost. I suppose it's a defense mechanism, but somewhere in the back of my mind I always assume that things will one day return to normal, which means life as it was in about 1984.
I remember when Hershey bars got bigger.
And the Ford Tempo, and Chinese restaurants with menus ten pages long, and they had it all.
I remember inflation, and how happy everybody was when it ended—and how unhappy when it started up again, right after the
'84 election.
And OPEC. I wonder if it still meets, and if the Israelis send CALIFORNIA DANGERS 2 0 3
representatives or allow their Arab client-states to continue the pretense of independent participation.
Walking along in that spit-and-polish gaggle of officers, I considered the idea of just breaking and running.
But I want to live. Badly.
Ticket clerks glanced curiously at us as we passed, and I thought of light on wings and how small the ocean seems from a jet.
I thought of the magical land of Somewhere Else.
They don't have Immigration Police Somewhere Else.
They don't have Red Zones and Dead Zones and British civil servants.
Somewhere Else the corn is always safe to eat and you don't see cattle vomiting in their pens.
They never triage Somewhere Else, and they don't write Bluegrams.
They don't love each other as Anne and I do, either, not Somewhere Else, where the sky is clean and death is a hobby of the old.
Somewhere Else they assume that they have a right to exist and do not stop to consider that it may be a privilege.
California needs the rest of America. It must not be allowed to become a separate nation. If there is such a thing as a geopolitical imperative in our present society, it is to prevent this from happening. The current California immigration laws are an affront to the very memory of the Bill of Rights—and in most parts of this country it is much more than a memory.
We were taken to a holding pen right in the airport, an airless, windowless room jammed with miserable people and booming
with fluorescent light.
We remained there, without food or water or access to counsel, for fifty hours. We slept as best we could on the black linoleum floor, entwined with the other captured.
I was the first to appear before the magistrate. He was a cheer-ful young man in a blue Palm Beach suit and one of the raffish gray panamas that California's affluent class wear nowadays.
They are gray because they are dusted with lead.
He was perhaps thirty. "Let's see, you're one of the ones dressed as a priest. Funny. This is funny too: By the power vested 204 WARDAY
in me by the state of California, I sentence you to two years at hard labor, to be followed by transportation out of state." He banged a gavel. "Next case," he said, absently shuffling papers.
My mouth was dry. I was too shocked to make a sound. Two years in prison, just like that. No jury, not even a chance to ask a question. And where was my lawyer? What the hell happened to my side?
I didn't hear Jim's sentencing, but I could see by his expression when we entered the prison bus, which was waiting at the far end of the main building, that he had been hit too. I held up my hand, indicating the number two. He nodded and held up first one finger and then another, then another.
Jim had done worse than I had; he was in for three years. Why the stiffer sentence? I found out later that he had asked the judge for a jury trial.
The bus was an old model with cyclone fencing welded into the windows. It rattled and shook along. There were ten of us, men as well as women, all handcuffed, seated on narrow steel benches.
When I realized that no guards were back here in the un-air-condi-tioned part of the bus, I began to talk.
"Maybe we can get word to someone in the federal government," I said. "Perhaps they can help."
Jim stared at me as if I had gone completely mad. "Look," he said, "I've still got my recorder and my disks. Once we get to the prison, they're going to be locked in a property room. Maybe stolen or erased."
Obviously there was no time to fool around with government officials. "So we break out of the bus. How?"
"Not too hard, it isn't very secure. I think they expect illegals to be passive. You remember how to fall?"