Governing's April cover story: Toil and Trouble

Toil and Trouble

Illegal Immigrants and the Day-Labor Dilemma

An Interview with the Author

Governing Managing Editor Anne Jordan talked with correspondent Jonathan Walters about his experience reporting on one of the toughest, most divisive issues facing local governments.

Jonathan Walters
Photo by Bill Geiger
Jonathan Walters

What interested you most about this assignment?

I’ve been following the issue because I cover intergovernmental relations for the magazine. And it’s clear there’s a fundamental disconnection between states, localities and the feds when it comes to wrestling with illegal immigration, which cuts across all jurisdictional boundaries. There’s a diffusion of responsibility that allows the issue to just sit and fester. It seemed to be another symptom of the lack of coordination and cooperation on a really huge issue. The other thing was that the day-laborer problem seemed like it was happening to people elsewhere, but I was surprised to learn it was also right on my doorstep.

Why did you decide to focus on these particular towns in New York — Brewster, Mount Kisco, Port Chester?

After less than a week of research, I learned this was going on just an hour from where I live [in upstate New York], and that communities in close proximity were handling this in different ways. It gave me the opportunity to compare and contrast several places and approaches. It also got me thinking about the extent to which communities are tackling this issue as if it’s new to them or are looking around at what others were doing. It turns out that everyone was very tuned in to what other towns in the area were doing.

What challenges or obstacles did you face doing the on-the-ground reporting? How were they overcome?

In Brewster, there was a lack of willingness on the part of elected and some appointed officials to talk to me. So in some ways, I went to Brewster very cold. It was a matter of wandering around for a day trying to find people to talk to me. I happened into the history museum downtown where the director knew Victor Padilla [the town’s day-labor liaison] really well and had his phone number. At that point, I was hard-wired into the day-laborer community.

Brewster's Victor Padilla
Photo by Charles Steck
   Brewster's Victor Padilla

Victor was born in Puerto Rico but moved to the Bronx when he was very young. His father served in World War II and Korea. Victor did building management in the Bronx and has been in Brewster for a long time, where he also managed properties and dealt with a lot of contractors. Since he also speaks Spanish, Victor was rubbing right up against the day-laborer world. One day, he saw a deputy sheriff arresting a Spanish-speaking person and asked what was going on. The deputy told him, “Mind your own business.” Well, Victor isn’t someone you should say that to. And ever since then, he’s made it his business to reach out to the day-laborer community. And, in fact, Padilla told me he’s now good friends with that deputy. To Brewster’s credit, they have made him the point person on day labor, although his role is very informal and he does it on his own time and dime. He’s the sort of person who bridges both worlds.

Were your encounters with the day laborers what you were expecting?

The town is so small — Main Street is only about a half-mile long — so the day laborers quickly tune into the fact that you’re not from around there. And here I was, walking around with a notebook. But somehow, they got a little bit acclimated to me. I made a point of having lunch at the local Hispanic restaurant and bought water at a Latino convenience store, trying to show I wasn’t afraid of going into these places.

When they saw me with Victor, they started to open up. On the first day, I talked to three day laborers through Victor. I went back there a couple weeks later with the photographer. Both the street shots and portraits were hard to do and get. There was such suspicion and fear. If they see you openly photographing, they will scatter. We shot the street scenes from the car, and we did see groups break up and drift off. For the portraits, Victor had to call in some favors. We were in the basement of the museum setting up, and he was trying to get people to come in. He was gone a long time. Once we got the first couple of volunteers, it was easier.

Virtually none of them were fluent in English, although I think most of them understand it fairly well. But they were very shy and reluctant to speak. I know a little Spanish but didn’t want to make a fool of myself, either, so Victor stepped in and was very helpful.

Did you inquire about the immigration status of the day laborers you interviewed?

The cardinal rule is: Don’t ask. That’s the rule that all the day-laborer centers apply. Their attitude is: We provide a service. It’s understood that whoever wants to come in to take advantage of it is welcome — no questions asked. If there are individuals who have problems or want legal help, they are willing to help out. The head of the day-laborer center in Mount Kisco was even worried about identifying people by their first names.

Did your own thinking on this issue change as you worked on the story?

Yes, I went in as a little more militant on the whole immigration issue. My first reflex was that they’re here illegally and we need to deal with that through enforcement. But when you look at the numbers — 11 million undocumented immigrants — and the differences of the economics of the places they came from, you realize that this hard line is just impractical from a policy standpoint. We’ve got this phenomenon, and there’s no way just to turn off the tap. People will come here. When you get to know them, you can’t help but have a change of heart. If you’re ignorant of the people, then there’s going to be fear.

What was most heart-rending on a personal level?

It was astonishing to me the amount of time many of these men had spent away from their wives and kids — six, seven years — and the whole idea of leaving a familiar place (most of the people I interviewed are from Guatemala) and coming somewhere that’s so different. I’m struck by their bravery in doing that and the actual fact of their trying to get here — the number of hand-offs, and modes of travel, and the amount of time and money. Jose, the 18-year-old pictured on the April cover, paid “coyotes” $6,000 to bring him to the United States. They don’t pay that money up front, but over time after they get here and start working. They can’t just get to the U.S. and disappear; the pressure on them to make the payments comes from the fear of what might happen to the families they left behind.

What was the most interesting thing you learned while working on this story?

One thing that tends to get ignored, and I didn’t get into it much in Governing because we look at the policy side and government role, is that the folks who sort of skate on this are the ones doing the hiring. Who’s hiring and why? That’s the side of it that tends to get lost in the whole debate.

It was really interesting to see the variety of logos on the trucks and SUVs that drove through, and realize that there were clearly established relationships between many workers and employers. It is not a haphazard, random experience. There were guys obviously waiting for a specific person, and there is a pecking order within the day-laborer community based on skills.

This whole day-labor phenomenon is driven by hard, cold economic reality on both sides. It’s supply and demand. You’ve got this group of businesses or homeowners who love getting hardworking people for $6 to $10 an hour and immigrants who are willing to take tough jobs for pay that far exceeds what they would earn in their native country.

What do you want Governing readers to take away from this story?

If this is happening — or you think it’s going to happen — in your front yard, don’t expect the state or feds to magically step in and fix the situation. It’s really going to be up to local governments. The places that step up and deal with this in a proactive, community-wide way are better off than those who ignore it. Because of the economics, it’s not going to go away. It’s important to see how different communities are dealing with it.