What's in a name?

What’s in a name?

The name my dad was given at birth by his parents was Afton Leroy.  But later in life (way before I was born) he would become known as “Cap” or “Cappy”.  Nobody called him Afton except his mother and father.  Even his siblings would come to call him “Cap”.  He earned the nickname and answered to it proudly from the time it was first uttered until his death in 1970.

 

A little history to explain how he earned the nickname—no---the “title” of “Cappy”.

The bracero program was introduced in 1942, a year after the U.S. entered the Second World War. The program, negotiated between the U.S. and Mexican governments, brought approximately 4.8 million Mexican contract laborers to work in the U.S., primarily as agricultural workers in California and Texas. The term “bracero” refers to those who work with their arms, from the Spanish word for arm “brazo.”

The Mexican American Bracero Agreement was signed on July 23, 1942, establishing the Mexican government as recruiters and the U.S. government as distributors of cheap and expendable labor. Mexico had declared war on the Axis powers one month before and was thus under pressure from the U.S. to help it overcome the wartime labor shortage. The majority of “braceros” were assigned to work in agriculture, though a significant minority, about one in four, were contracted to work on the railroads.

The government, newspapers and recruiters in Mexico sold the program through an intensive propaganda campaign. For example, an article titled “Impressions of a Worker,” printed in the Mexico City daily El Universal, quoted Antonio Corrales, who had allegedly just returned from working as a contract worker in California. “We work contentedly, eat with an appetite, amuse ourselves, send our families money, and even save,” he said.

He described the braceros as being “joyfully greeted by the North American farmers,” working eight-hour days in the “best possible conditions,” making exchanges of language lessons with American workers, earning abundant wages, having opportunities to save at least 25 percent of their earnings, and receiving a sympathetic welcome by Americans generally.  I'm thinking Mr. Corrales probably worked for my dad or someone like him.

This glowing picture contrasted sharply with the actual experience of most braceros.

Braceros were usually afraid to register official complaints, but they suffered from lack of consistent work, long work hours, earnings that barely covered expenses, unauthorized deductions from their pay, meager and poor-quality food rations, run-down and unsanitary housing, dangerous means of transportation, dangerous working conditions that led to disabling or fatal accidents, and even physical abuse, as well as severe racial discrimination.

As the foreman of a farm camp in the mid 1940’s, my dad was very attuned to the needs of the Mexicans that were, in some cases, being taken advantage of or at the very least being ignored in their simplest requests.  Requests like needed bathroom breaks, dietary needs and so on.  There are stories about workers arriving in the farms camps and being fed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or hard-boiled eggs with toast and other “American” type meals, when what they were used to, and preferred, was meat, pork, rice, beans and masa and tortillas.  Dad would make sure that there were plenty of those foods on hand that he would provide (at cost) to those under his supervision. 

My mom told me the particulars but I don’t remember the logistics of how he was able to do this, but the point is that no one seemed to have any complaints against my father that were widespread among other camps during the same period.  In fact, once they found out Dad was an American citizen with dual citizenship in Mexico as a consequence of being born and raised in that country, they considered him a “compadre” who could help them with their (sometimes) difficult months away from home with good conversation, good food and a relaxed work environment.  It even made many of the workers more productive than they would be normally.

   

Even though they looked upon him as a friend, they also respected him in his authority as their foreman and many of them began calling him “El Capitan”.  To his American friends and family this was shortened to “Cap” or “Cappy”, which my dad wore as a badge of pride and honor until his death.  I am proud of the way my dad was always fair and honorable to everyone he met and the respect he showed to all, regardless of their heritage or status in life.  He never aspired to be anything but kind and generous to anyone he met and I never heard anyone speak ill of him, ever.  This is not to say he never showed anger.  He certainly did, but it was usually because he saw someone being mistreated or discriminated against  in some way.

 

I can only hope to leave the same legacy of love and respect for my brothers and sisters through Christ of this world to my children and their children.