Post World War II saw a surge of union activism, particularly among CIO related organizations. (Donaldson, p. 77-78.) After making what they believed to be significant sacrifices to aid the war effort, e.g. the no strike pledge, the industrial unions sought to make up lost ground, using “wildcat strikes” and other forms of labor militancy. (Id.)
In the middle-to-later parts of the 20th century, there were still some sections of the economy where the plight of workers led to significant discord between labor and management. Perhaps the best known of those sections was in agriculture and involved the migrant farm workers. The American farm economy has long relied on migrant farm workers mostly from Mexico and other Central American nations for the labor necessary to bring crops to market. For example, in the 1940s through the early 1960s the governments of Mexico and the United States instituted the Bracero Program or guest worker program to help fill the farmer’s need for “stoop labor.” The Spanish word bracero means laborer. The Bracero Program was intended to be a legal alternative to illegal immigration, but it did not eliminate long existing abusive hiring practices and working conditions suffered by the migrant farm workers.
Woody Guthrie wrote a song regarding the migrant farm workers. The name of the song is “Deportee—The Plane Wreck at Los Gatos Canyon,” (1948), here sung by Arlo Guthrie, Woody’s son. (http://youtu.be/c2eO65BqxBE) As the title indicates, the song is about the crash of a plane that was carrying farm workers back to Mexico from the fields in California where they were picking crops. Thirty two people died in the crash: 28 Mexicans and four Americans. Guthrie was motivated to write the song after hearing a radio report of the plane crash where the dead workers were characterized only as “deportees” which he thought was impersonal and demeaning.
The crops are all in and the peaches are rott’ning,
The oranges piled in their creosote dumps;
They’re flying ’em back to the Mexican border
To pay all their money to wade back againGoodbye to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita,
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria;
You won’t have your names when you ride the big airplane,
All they will call you will be “deportees”My father’s own father, he waded that river,
They took all the money he made in his life;
My brothers and sisters come working the fruit trees,
And they rode the truck till they took down and died.Some of us are illegal, and some are not wanted,
Our work contract’s out and we have to move on;
Six hundred miles to that Mexican border,
They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves.We died in your hills, we died in your deserts,
We died in your valleys and died on your plains.
We died ‘neath your trees and we died in your bushes,
Both sides of the river, we died just the same.The sky plane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon,
A fireball of lightning, and shook all our hills,
Who are all these friends, all scattered like dry leaves?
The radio says, “They are just deportees”Is this the best way we can grow our big orchards?
Is this the best way we can grow our good fruit?
To fall like dry leaves to rot on my topsoil
And be called by no name except “deportees”
Cesar Chavez, a Mexican-American born in Yuma, Arizona, who himself worked in the fields, was the Martin Luther King, Jr. of the farm workers’ fight for respect, livable wages and human working conditions. He was a union organizer and a civil rights worker who worked among the migrant farm laborers. He founded the United Farm Workers Union (UFW). Like Martin Luther King, Jr., Cesar Chavez believed in non-violent methods to achieve his objectives. One of Chavez’ major tactics was to stage hunger strikes. On several occasions, he conducted extended “spiritual fasts.” By the late 1970s, his tactics had forced growers to recognize the UFW as the bargaining agent for 50,000 field workers in California and Florida.
In 1965, Chavez led the grape pickers in California on protest marches in an effort to obtain better wages and working conditions. The workers went on strike and instituted a boycott of table grapes. Chavez, who was an effective public speaker, brought the grape pickers’ message to other parts of the country. With it, the grape boycott expanded beyond California, even to the east coast. (Ferriss and Sandoval, eds. The Fight in the Fields: Cesar Chavez and the Farmworkers Movement, 1998.)
Many people identify the song “De Colores” with the United Farm Workers movement of the 1960s and 1970s. Here is the version sung by Joan Baez: www.youtube.com/watch?v=X55H81WzZD4
Spanish Version:
De colores, de colores
Se visten los campos en la primavera.
De colores, de colores
Son los pajaritos que vienen de afuera.
De colores, de colores
Es el arco iris que vemos lucir.Y por eso los grandes amores
De muchos colores me gustan a mí.
Y por eso los grandes amores
De muchos colores me gustan a mí.De colores, de colores
Brillantes y finos se viste la aurora.
De colores, de colores
Son los mil reflejos que el sol atesora.
De colores, de colores
Se viste el diamante que vemos lucir.Y por eso los grandes amores
De muchos colores me gustan a mí.
Y por eso los grandes amores
De muchos colores me gustan a mí.Canta el gallo, canta el gallo
Con el quiri, quiri, quiri, quiri, quiri.
La gallina, la gallina
Con el cara, cara, cara, cara, cara.
Los pollitos/polluelos, los pollitos/polluelos
Con el pío, pío, pío, pío, pí.Y por eso los grandes amores
De muchos colores me gustan a mí.
Y por eso los grandes amores
De muchos colores me gustan a mí.Jubilosos, jubilosos
Vivamos en gracia puesto que se puede.
Saciaremos, saciaremos
La sed ardorosa del Rey que no muere.
Jubilosos, jubilosos
Llevemos a Cristo un alma y mil más.Difundiendo la luz que ilumina
La gracia divina del gran ideal.
Difundiendo la luz que ilumina
La gracia divina del gran ideal.De colores, de colores
Sí, de blanco y negro y rojo y azul y castaño.
Son colores, son colores
De gente que ríe, y estrecha la mano.
Son colores, son colores
De gente que sabe de la libertad.Y por eso los grandes amores
De muchos colores me gustan a mí.
Y por eso los grandes amores
De muchos colores me gustan a mí.
English Version
In colors, in colors
The fields are dressed in the spring.
In colors, in colors
Are the little birds that come from outside.
In colors, in colors
Is the rainbow that we see shining.And that is why I love
The great loves of many colors
And that is why I love
The great loves of many colors.In colors, in colors
Brilliant and delicate is dressed the dawn.
In colors, in colors
Are the thousand gleams the sun treasures.
In colors, in colors
Is dressed the diamond we see shining.And that is why I love
The great loves of many colors.
And that is why I love
The great loves of many colors.The rooster sings, the rooster sings
With a cock-a-doodle, cock-a-doodle-doo.
The hen, the hen
With a cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck.
The chicks, the chicks
With a cheep, cheep, cheep, cheep, cheep.And that is why I love
The great loves of many colors.
And that is why I love
The great loves of many colors.Joyous, joyous
Let us live in grace since we can.
Let us quench, let us quench
The burning thirst of the King who does not die.
Joyous, joyous
Let us bring to Christ a soul and thousand more.Spreading the light that illuminates
The divine grace from the great ideal.
Spreading the light that illuminates
The divine grace from the great ideal.In colors, in colors
Yes, black and white and red and blue and brown.
All the colors, colors
From people laughing, and shaking hands.
All the colors, colors
From people who know freedom.And that is why I love
The great loves of many colors
And that is why I love
The great loves of many colors
A song describing the plight of the migrant farm worker is “Brown-Eyed Children of the Sun,” written by Daniel Valdez, Sylvia Galan, and Pedro Contreras; sung by Daniel Valdez. (http://youtu.be/eyH913Q29g0)
Up to California from Mexico you come
To the Sacramento Valley, to toil in the sun
Your wife and seven children, they’re working every one
And what will you be giving to your brown-eyed children of the sun?Your face is lined and wrinkled and your age is forty-one
Your back is bent from picking, like your dying time has come
Your children’s eyes are smiling, their lives have just begun
And what will you be giving to your brown-eyed children of the sun?You marched on Easter Sunday, to the Capitol you’ve come
To fight for union wages, and your fight has just begun
You’re a proud man, you’re a free man, and your heritage is won
And that you can be giving to your brown-eyed children of the sun!
Another Danny Valdez song about migrant workers for whom Cesar Chavez campaigned is “The Migrants’ Song.” Sung with Augustin Lin, with great emotion, it portrays the tribulations of the people who work in the fields. (https://youtu.be/CV4TOgYdkzA?list=PLUSRfoOcUe4Z2SWHoqOtIsTl6w7aKPmHM)
Up from El Centro and San Bernadino, Bakersfield, Fresno, Madero, Merced, Salinas and Stockton and to Sacramento, Santa Rosa and Redbud and back again,
One hundred thousand men,women and children, flowing the highway, the young and the old, an unending cycle of sowing and reaping, the long valley’s labor can never be done,
And see how the land yields up her treasures to man’s patient hands,
Up in the morning an hour before dawning, streteching and yawning, rubbing sleep from their eyes, with the last duster quivering and the morning breeze shivering, the sun is just lighting the eastern most skies,
Soon in the big open trucks they will travel, crowded together and crammed in like cattle, over pavement, over gravel, over dirt roads, the wheels out to the orchards, the vineyards, the fields,
And see how the land yields up her treasures to man’s patient hands,
Soon in the long rows the swift hands are toiling, the day’s growing heat and the dusty rows boiling, the sun presses down like a hot heavy hand, on the backs of the laborers that are working the land,
In the shade of the old trees on the side of the field roads, dirty and shoeless the young children play, while fathers and mothers older sisters and brothers toil on their knees in the heat of the day,
And see how the land yields up her treasures to man’s patient hands,
Down from the highway come men in brown uniforms, questioning, checking and searching and soon, one or two whose papers are not in order will be gone from the crew in the hot afternoon,
But when the sun is descended and the long day is ended, its back to the trucks wiping sweat from their eyes, tired and weary and covered all over with fruit juice and brown dust and sweat and black flies,
And see how the land yields up her treasures to man’s patient hands,
When there’s crops in the fields and grapes in the vineyards, the limbs of the orchards bow low to the ground, there’s food on the table and clothes for the children, and singing and dancing and joy all around,
But with the skies grey and iron and the icy winds whistling, frost in the fields and no work to be found, in the cold night they huddle, with hunger they struggle, until spring brings back sweetness and life to the ground,
And see how the land yields up her treasures to man’s patient hands, and see how the land yields up her treasures to man’s patient hands.
“Corrido de Cesar Chavez,” by Los Tigres del Norte is a Spanish song about Cesar Chavez with a good slide show. (http://youtu.be/M5NQdd_rvnM)
No habia quien defendiera al campesino
ni al mas minimo derecho conseguia
de las actas laborales excluidos
su derecho como humano no existiaY aunque no quieras
creeer querido amigo
esto sucedio
en los estados unidos.Pero el lider de la union de campesinos
25 dias estuvo sin comer
y tambien como lo estados vecinos
al fin tuvo California que cederY aunque no quieras
creeer querido amigo
esto sucedio
en los estados unidos.Cesar Chavez Cesar Chavez el caudillo
a quien los agricultores tienen miedo
no necesito pistolas ni cuchillos
pero sus demandas se le consedieron
24 dias en el 75
promulgar la ley agricola valieron.Pero cuando los contratos se vencian
los patrones y otras uniones se aliaron
y a los miles llevaron la policia
y con sangre de inocente los regaron.y aunque no quieras
creer querido amigo
esto sucedio
en los estaods unidos…Protestando contra los desinfectantes
Chavez hace huelga por tercera vez
por querer salvar la de sus semejantes
el su vida casi tuvo que perdery aunque no quieras
creer quierido amigo
esto sucedio
en los estados unidos.
Cesar Chavez Cesar Chavez Cesar Chavez
como Martin Luther King yo te comparo
por si tu no lo sabias ya lo sabes
tienes un lugar en el cielo apartado
y en tu honor an de cantar un dias la avez
cuando el campo ya no este contaminado…
Steve Earle’s song “Christmas Time in Washington,” (1997) (https://youtu.be/3NASicF9yTI) provides his retrospective on the state of the labor and civil rights movements in the United States at the end of the 20th Century. It summarizes some of the better known labor singer-songwriters of the past that have been included in this work: Woody Guthrie, Cisco Houston, Utah Phillips, Joe Hill, etc.
It’s Christmastime in Washington
The Democrats rehearsed
Gettin’ into gear for four more years
Things not gettin’ worse
The Republicans drink whiskey neat
And thanked their lucky stars They said, ‘He cannot seek another term
They’ll be no more FDRs’I sat home in Tennessee
Staring at the screen
With an uneasy feeling in my chest
And I’m wonderin’ what it meansChorus:
So come back Woody Guthrie
Come back to us now
Tear your eyes from paradise
And rise again somehow
If you run into Jesus
Maybe he can help you out
Come back Woody Guthrie to us nowI followed in your footsteps once
Back in my travelin’ days
Somewhere I failed to find your trail
Now I’m stumblin’ through the haze
But there’s killers on the highway now
And a man can’t get around
So I sold my soul for wheels that roll
Now I’m stuck here in this townChorus
There’s foxes in the hen house
Cows out in the corn
The unions have been busted
Their proud red banners torn
If you listen to the radio
You’d think that all was well
But you and me and Cisco know
It’s going straight to hellSo come back, Emma Goldman
Rise up, old Joe Hill
The barricades are goin’ up
They cannot break our will
Come back to us, Malcolm X
And Martin Luther King
We’re marching into Selma
As the bells of freedom ring