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Past, present and future

A series of articles unveil our history, our heroes, and our hopes

History is traces of the past and how we look at them. -- Professor Donald Higgins

During the last century, the history of Latinos seems to have been hijacked, held hostage by those who write textbooks, popular literature, TV series and Hollywood movies.

How did that happen? The late Professor Donald Higgins, who taught classes at Glendale Community College, was fond of pointing out that history is riddled with inaccuracies, often introduced by those who are the chroniclers of events. In this way, historians reshape the past to reflect what they believe to be a true picture.

Looking back through earlier times, we can discern a cyclical tug-of-war, a repeated pushing and pulling between America and immigrants in times of acute labor needs, alternating with periods of loathing. These cycles amount to a game of “Love me, love me not” when it comes to Hispanic immigrants.

As a group, we Latinos reject the idea of being seen as monolithic, a concept that continues to dog our community. Yet we subscribe to the power of uniting behind a cause or a cure. Three well-known social service organizations – Friendly House, Chicanos Por La Causa, and Valle del Sol -- have come to symbolize this propensity for Latinos helping each other.

These groups were created to support our community, to make immigrants feel welcome, to help families stay together and, in one case, gave birth to the local Chicano movement of the 1970s. Eventually these groups extended helping hands across barriers of language and race, in recognition of the community’s increasing diversity. (In the next few months Latino Perspectives will give more detailed portraits of each of these organizations.)

In a related article, we introduce you to local leaders from the present who serve as shining examples of giving back, a trait that runs deep in the Latino community. For the last 17 years, Valle del Sol, a social service organization with a reputation for grooming the next generation of Latino leaders, has paid tribute to those who are advocates for the helpless.

Through the decades, America also has chosen to celebrate what it sees as the “good” part of Latino culture (its food and music) while exploiting our people’s longing for a better life. And as far as recalling our role in the past, well, our best work rarely sees a printed page or movie screen.

 

In LPM’s third anniversary issue, we take a closer look at pioneer times in Phoenix, when Mexicans and non-Hispanics worked closely together to establish a territorial town destined to become Arizona’s capital.

The stories are culled from the pages of a remarkable Hispanic Historic Property Survey commissioned by the city. This document holds a mirror to our past, chronicling the contributions Latinos - particularly of Mexican descent - made to Phoenix. Among present-day members of the community, it’s often repeated that the Valley of the Sun was “built on the backs of Latinos.” The survey makes it clear that this was the case, especially when it came to agriculture and commerce.

Phoenix was once a dusty hay camp. Pioneers, the majority of them male, saw an opportunity to stake a future. In our look back, it is evident there was a spirit of teamwork, a collective effort to pull a town into existence from the desert floor.

Historians have often cited Jack Swilling as the father of Phoenix. The bride by his side, however, was a respectable young Mexicana named Trinidad Escalante. She deserves as much – and possibly more – recognition for her contributions as a pioneer, a gracious hostess to travelers and strangers, a woman of faith who opened her home to others. Her perseverance and sensibility made her a good match for Swilling, whose crazy exploits were legendary.

Most historians, however, have relegated her to a footnote.

Anglos and Mexicans (made American citizens by way of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo) shared equally in the building of a future metropolis. Yet quickly, in the span of just 20 years, the number of Latinos in the Valley would fall into second-class status, forced there by politics and social discrimination.

Our early history would be set on a different path by White educators, clergy and legislators who used their authority to discriminate against us. And in subsequent chronicling of those early times by Anglo newspaper reporters and writers, the role of Latinos would be diminished, to the detriment of succeeding generations.

In an attempt to allay such disrespect, Latinos formed social organizations in defense. Beginning in the late 1890s, groups sought social and political justice for Mexican Americans. Banding together would be a tactic repeated into the next century, as prejudice and hostility would wax and wane through eras of economic prosperity and depression.

Echoes of our past haunt the Latino community still. In the vacant parcels that surround Sacred Heart Braun Center, off 16th Street and Buckeye, one can almost hear the ghostly sounds of the old barrio, neighborhoods where generations of families thrived. In others’ eyes, these streets might have looked like slums; drivers in a hurry to escape the area wouldn’t have known the resilient spirit that buoyed its inhabitants.

Now, years after mostly Latino families (6,000 people total) were told to relocate, there is a rebirth starting. There is a nice fire station, a U.S. Post Office, a beautiful car rental facility, businesses -- and a new vision. The concept calls for a mixed-use approach in which the old Sacred Church Heart would become part of a Latino-themed cultural and business park modeled on Olvera Street in Los Angeles.

While this redevelopment sounds like it would save an icon from the wrecking ball, the keepers of Sacred Heart fear Latinos’ wishes may be turned into a plan for big business profit, instead of a place where Brown cultura can be celebrated.

These defenders – Latino historians among them – know that turning loose Sacred Heart for the wrong reasons would dishonor the memory of the people who built her. If the old church were to become part of a turista trap, it would be another blow to preserving Latino history in Phoenix. The saviors of Sacred Heart need to ensure the Latino community is part of the redevelopment process, thereby guaranteeing its role in Phoenix’s future.

Our legacy in Phoenix is garnering new interest as our population continues to grow in influence. It is the Latino community’s turn to correct a flawed historical picture, to take our rightful place as citizens who will shape the future. And peering into our past can surely help Latinos in the present.

The Phoenix Museum of History is unveiling a don’t-miss exhibition around the Hispanic Historic Property Survey, titled El Espejo (The Mirror). In it viewers will see photos of pioneers with Brown faces, including Trinidad Escalante Swilling. At last, traces of our past will be displayed for all to see that the Valley of the Sun was indeed built on the backs of Latinos.