While the families cheered and applauded Oakley’s toast that evening, Uncle Philip stared at Albert and Louise still sitting side by side. Biting his lip, disappointed, he looked over to Allison.
The hard work did start on the Monday following the family party. Oakley, Agatha and her father began a series of meetings with accountants and financial officers representing Los Angeles, city and county, and also Sante Fe, Union Pacific and Southern Pacific railroads. All had financial interests in the project, and each entity would bear a percentage of the cost for the bridge.
Sun Construction also met with representatives from a variety of specialized construction companies that had submitted bids to build certain parts for the bridge. Material and equipment companies eagerly lined up to negotiate agreements to supply whatever Sun Construction needed. Dealing with government, public and private financial entities was easy compared to negotiating with unions that attempted to muscle their way into the yard where Sun Construction workers met before starting their day. The unions were organizing more and more workers as the federal government kept passing laws to support collective bargaining and the right of workers to join unions. Oakley despised the union representatives. Often he ignored them, and on several occasions he had them literally thrown out of the yard. Agatha became the primary contact person who dealt with the reps. To date, no union had been successful in infiltrating and organizing the employees of Sun Construction. The union people could not offer the quantity and quality of benefits that Sun Construction already gave its full-time permanent employees.
In good times, getting a job with Sun Construction had always meant relatively long-term employment. If they didn’t start with skills already mastered, they could learn a trade and get on a crew comprised of between twenty to thirty men of different skill levels. The crews were multiracial. In good economic times or bad, whether skilled or unskilled, if you were willing to work hard and learn, Sun Construction offered opportunity. The company’s reputation attracted eager workers from throughout Southern California.
One of the most attractive benefits, with which unions had never been able to compete, was that if Sun workers bought a house or a lot near the company yard on the river at Boyle Heights, the company helped to upgrade an older house or assist in building a new one. Like Jesús and Garras had done, other workers were now buying in the fast-developing Mexican section on the east side of the river. Most bought lots in Belvedere, Boyle, Brooklyn or Lincoln Heights, or further east of the Los Angeles River. The black workers tended to buy land on Central Avenue or in the Compton and Watts areas. Oakley and Agatha encouraged their employees to buy close to the yard. The farthest Oakley would send materials, trucks and equipment to build a house was to the new areas just beyond Montebello.
“Buy in the designated sections on the east side of the river. That’s where you can buy. In the other places, they don’t want mexicanos. You know that,” Oakley had reminded them while handing out envelopes with payroll checks. He was aware of the redlining that banks and the City of Los Angeles had been doing for years. His family, actually his father-in-law’s law firm, had assisted in the clandestine master development plan created by the city’s economic elites to sacrifice the east side of the river to create designated Mexican immigrant areas and industrial zones. The plan called for the Westside to be devoted to beautiful parks, recreational and residential sites for whites only. The Sun workers did exactly what Oakley suggested. They bought land very near the Boyle Heights Yard and took advantage of the company’s help to build a house. The savings went to purchase an automobile for the family.
Oakley thought of his workers and how eager they were to please him. They were always on time for work and willing to work overtime. Before he drove to the construction site on the river, he stopped to watch Franco Morretti and Albert talk to men who wanted work. When he walked out of the office, he noticed how the men formed two lines: one white and the other Mexican, black and Asian. Oakley walked out to the group.
“You don’t have to line up like that! I don’t want you to do that! Today we need …” He paused and looked over to Albert.
Whenever the construction industry took a dive, full-time permanent jobs became scarce everywhere. Unemployed workers knew of Sun’s reputation, which made it the most desirable employer in its field. Sun always attracted workers of varied skill levels, but especially unskilled laborers showed up there in great numbers, even if it was part-time or temporary work, because they believed that training there could lead to secure employment with Sun, a growing company.
“Twenty men, veinte muchachos! We’re hiring for temporary jobs. You might work for a few days, a few weeks, maybe a couple of months. Only temporary jobs today! Mr. Morretti, our foreman, will be watching how you work and, at the end of the day, he’ll let you know if we want you back.”
As Oakley drove to the construction site nearby, Albert’s face lingered in his mind. He was proud of his son, a handsome young man, successful in school and now studying engineering at USC. Only the best students got into USC, and his son was accepted with open arms. Oakley thought of the question Albert had asked one afternoon when they were alone at home. Oakley explained to his son that his grandfather was Mexican and his grandmother was Indian. He told him he should be proud of his heritage. He remembered Albert looking directly into his father’s eyes, questioning his father’s identity. There was no other answer.
“Yes, Albert, my parents were Mexican and Indian, and that makes you Mexican, Indian and Anglo.”
Albert wanted a clear, honest answer to many questions that had emerged.
“Why am I not as dark as the Mexicans who work for us? Why don’t we speak more Spanish? Why does Tío Sol speak Spanish fluently? Did my grandmother name you ‘Oakley’? Why don’t we have a Mexican last name?”
It was good for his son to know the history of his father’s family. It was good that he understood why and how his last name was not Mexican. Oakley remembered Albert’s response:
“I didn’t grow up feeling Mexican or Indian or Anglo. I don’t know how I should feel. Should I feel Mexican now? Grandma and Grandpa were just Grandma and Grandpa. They were just my grandparents.”
“Be proud of your grandparents. Be proud of who you are.”
Oakley recalled more about that conversation with his son, who spoke as a man now. He was happy that Albert concerned himself with these issues of who he was, especially during these days of so much anti-immigrant, anti-Mexican hate going around. They treated some Mexicans badly, especially the poor Chicanos coming over the border ragged and hungry, and Indians worse, he thought. Oakley remembered that a few years ago there was a lynching of a Mexican in Santa Ana, and Albert, too, was aware of that incident.
“I don’t speak Spanish that well, but I understand it. Tío Sol speaks to me in Spanish. I hear you speaking to the Mexican workers in Spanish. Mom speaks some, too.”
“Good, then it will be easy for you to learn more of the language. Nowadays it is a necessity in Los Angeles.”
Albert had to learn to live who he was, and Oakley was sure that his son and daughter both would be able to accept their identity. As a family, they were not unique. There were more and more marriages between Mexicans and non-Mexicans. With the city growing and more people of different ethnicities sharing space, intermarriages were increasing. What was unique about Oakley’s marriage was that they were wealthy and in a position to affect people. Oakley had created a construction company, and Agatha and her family made it a wealthy and an influential legal and political corporation. Oakley learned quickly from his wife about the power they possessed. She and her family controlled wealth, but perhaps, most importantly, they had accumulated knowledge about Los Angeles and its big-money movers. An unassuming nature allowed Oakley to play second fiddle to his wife. He coordinated Sun Construction, a small portion of Agatha’s family’s business and wealth. What mattered were what and who you knew, and the deep pockets you had to support your entrepren
eurship. Their time was now. Where I am, where we function, ethnicity doesn’t much matter; money erases my face, Oakley thought, while he slowly walked to the construction site.
Sections of the river bottom had been covered with cement, and Keller’s crew had diverted the water that ran downriver toward the west side of the river bed, allowing the breaking up of the concrete and the digging of the craters for the steel trestles that would be sunk one hundred feet into the earth. These pillars were bases for the siding blocks that together formed the massive foundation mold into which tons of hydroconcrete mix would be poured. The Sun Construction Company would build twelve foundation craters and molds. Upon these massive footings the bridge’s base pillars would rise over one hundred feet above the river. The crews were working at both sides of the river breaking concrete, digging deep craters, sinking heavy steel pillars—slowly, diligently, expertly working toward the center of the river. Fisher worked on the west, and MacLeash ran a crew on the east side. Oakley waved at MacLeash and carefully approached the nearest deep pit to the river’s edge. Oakley looked down and acknowledged the ten men working at the bottom, guiding the excavation, directing the steam shovel and the crane that raised large heavy scoops of earth, sand, rock and mud to a line of trucks that waited to haul the diggings away to a nearby landfill.
Sun Construction was on schedule. Fisher and MacLeash estimated a sixteen-month timeline, depending on rain. What had to be built before the rainy season were the twelve steel concrete bases. Once the bases were constructed, the crews could work above the water to build the spans and connect them from base to base across the river. MacLeash removed his hardhat and wiped his brow with a red-striped handkerchief.
“Need about five more trucks on this end. I don’t know how Gerry is doing over there. We can talk tonight if you want. The sooner I dig these pits, the happier I’m going to be. Five trucks, five more trucks!” MacLeash walked away.
From building humble river rafts to building bridges, Oakley’s history amazed him and gave him a deep satisfaction as he drove across the Los Angeles riverbed to the west side where Fisher waited.
If you are seeking, seek us with joy,
for we live in the kingdom of joy.
Do not give your heart to anything else
but to the love of those who are clear joy.
Do not go in the direction of darkness;
I tell you: suns exist.
—Rumi
PART THREE
Dear Albert,
How long do I have to wait for a letter, a card, a note from you? My questions have not been answered. These questions about you and your family are important to you and to my family. Maybe it is because they come from me that you are not eager to answer. I am sure, my beautiful Albert, that you will be forced to confront them again someday. For your own good, your own peace, you must know who you are. I ask them of you for your well-being. For me you are Albert my love, the handsome, intelligent young man who opens me up, possesses me, travels my body with his delightful tongue. Oh God, why aren’t you with me now? Why am I not with you at this moment? Now, every time we are together, we come together. When we are together there is no time for silly questions, hardly a moment for a word between us. Time can only be measured by pursuing our pleasure. There is no rest for us kissing. Kissing, caressing, licking, swallowing, holding, opening, entering, loving each other—our love and pleasure will not allow rest when we are together. I will do anything for you and I know you will do what I want, what drives me to want more, to be bold and ask for this, for that, and I scream in silence when you comply, you magnificent monster. You are worried about who you are. Don’t be troubled. Worry about our love. Let’s work to make it better.
A week ago was the last time we were together, alone for almost two hours at Griffith Park. Nobody was around. What we did became so intense, gave us so much pleasure, so much joy that I can’t forget those feelings. At night I can’t erase those sensations from my mind to sleep, and I do not want to. I begin to experience the feelings again. My God, in every way I can almost see, smell, feel, touch, taste you in me, on me, behind me, over me. My body arches from the sensation. I know I haven’t sinned. I know we have not sinned. Our life is a blessing. God wants us together.
Uncle Philip is constantly telling my parents how wrong it is for you to tutor me, for you to spend so much time with me. He does not like our friendship. He scolds Mother and Father. He yelled at them and said that you will ruin our family, that our family must be kept pure. He is so terrible saying those things! Mother defended you, Albert! She raised her voice and Father walked her away. It happened in front of all of us. Uncle Philip told Father that we should not see each other. I know that nothing will separate us. Our friendship, our love is eternal. It is the kind of love our priest talks about in church.
I can’t rest. I am having trouble studying. I open a book and it’s like opening to you. I try to read and it is like reading your body. My mind wanders to our next meeting alone. Don’t worry about my questions. We are living in modern times, with new ideas, and soon many different people will be living in the city. Things are changing rapidly. There is always something new. A new world is coming, and you and I are in the middle of it all. Our parents, our families are helping to build that new world. I am so proud of our fathers; they have made us all participants. I don’t like going to church anymore. The priest criticized and warned us about the dangers of these modern ways. He warned about learning the modern dances. I thought of the dances your Uncle Sol goes to, and I wondered if he was a sinner. I giggled at the thought of Uncle Sol being a sinner. Our priest condemned the modern style of dress. He especially scolded the women of our congregation, told them not to buy new-style dresses that hardly cover their body with scanty sheer cloth. I can’t understand why the Church criticizes all that is beautiful today. These priests are so annoying. They need to go out and live in the real world.
Albert, we are friends—in the deepest meaning of the word, we are friends. At this point in our lives we are friends who share deeply the gifts that God has given us. Albert and Louise are one, my love. Together we are whole; one part can’t live without the other. My love for you is all—nothing else counts, nothing else matters. All the things I do are solely to perpetuate my love for you, Albert, to make our lives eternal, to make our love survive forever. I don’t know how much longer we can exist like this. Now, write to me so that I can read your words at night, when we are not together, so that at least I can touch the paper you touched. Write to me, Albert, even a short note. Please write and confess your love for me.
Forever yours and only yours!
Louise
IMMIGRANTS FROM THROUGHOUT the world were arriving in Los Angeles on a daily basis, chasing myths and dreams and investing in real estate after having believed the propaganda aimed at attracting white middle-class and wealthy entrepreneurs. During the late 1920s the Mexican population on the east side of the river continued to grow, becoming a major commercial market for many non-Mexican entrepreneurs, who even in downtown stores advertised to attract Mexican shoppers to their businesses. A few even announced se habla español. La Opinión newspaper carried a variety of ads from businesses outside the Mexican areas for products aimed at their Spanish-speaking readers. Clothing, furniture, tobacco, hardware, construction tools, medicines, Hollywood films and musical instruments brought in consistent advertising revenue to Spanish-language newspapers and magazines. Making purchases became easier by offering customers the option of paying in installments or with long-term credit. Furniture, appliances, jewelry and luxury or other costly items were made available to the working classes by providing a variety of credit programs. Albert often overheard the Sun Construction workers comment on how they had purchased appliances, clothes or jewelry on an installment plan or put a gift on layaway for their girlfriends or wives. On payday they stopped at the stores to make payments. Buying on time established credit with the Anglo, Jewish and Mexican proprietors. A f
ew stores offered just about anything needed for the home, and also sold such luxuries as jewelry and expensive watches for men and women.
Albert and Louise’s interest in Mexican Los Angeles continued as, together, they explored the booming metropolis. But it was Sol, since the time he saw Albert and Louise kiss at the Plaza, who eagerly introduced them to the various sections of the city. He encouraged them not to be afraid, because the people of the many ethnic neighborhoods were good, friendly, generous and kind. Louise, like her mother, did not need much encouragement to explore the ethnic neighborhoods. Albert and Louise often accompanied Sol to eat at Mexican-owned restaurants, one located next to the Plaza and one in East Los Angeles. From Sun Construction’s Boyle Heights Yard, restaurants were at most ten to fifteen minutes away. They enjoyed lunch at El Progreso, and they often dined at La Paloma, places the owners claimed were the oldest restaurants in the city, that cooked only with one-hundred-year-old recipes for the best Mexican cuisine in Los Angeles. The restaurateurs perked up whenever they saw Sol enter the door.
Sol had a way with people. They would do anything for him.
After lunch Sol sometimes took Albert and Louise to see a Mexican movie at one of the theaters downtown, and they also went to see American-made films starring Mexican or Latin stars who worked in Hollywood. Ramón Novarro and Lupe Vélez were popular, but it was Dolores del Río who sparked the most interest among the Mexican population and Anglo movie-goers. Her success as a film star also brought attention to Mexican intellectual activity. Mexican professionals—doctors, musicians, lawyers, scientists, artists and writers—were leaving Mexico for Los Angeles in droves, in an effort to escape the violent and politically charged environment south of the border. These professionals set up studios and offices to cater not only to the Mexican residents but also to the Anglos and others who would contract them. They were business directed, not ethnically driven.
River of Angels Page 17
