latino-culture-texa20260130155613

White on Brown Racism – Subtle yet real

Fri, 24 Apr 2026 14:50:20 GMT

An article by Louis Farraken published in the Nation of Islam magazine peeked my interest. Over 100 years after the end of the Civil War slavery and discrimination are still teaching and learning tools for African Americans. The topic unifies African Americans. This is how they combat the menace of White racism. By always being on the offensive.

Let’s first discuss what I think are the two most important Supreme Court decisions regarding race.

Dred Scott Decision - The Court had ruled that African Americans had no claim to freedom or citizenship.

Plessy v Ferguson - It upheld state racial segregation laws for public facilities under the doctrine of "separate but equal". "Separate but equal" remained standard doctrine in U.S. law until its repudiation in the 1954 Supreme Court decision Brown v. Board of Education.

Source: WIKIPEDIA

These Supreme Court rulings legitimized slavery and segregation. Since Supreme Court decisions can only by overturned by the Supreme Court itself, these decisions became the law of the land.

We Mexican Americans have never been slaves, yet we have been the victims of racism just like our African American brothers. Under the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, we were classified as White. However, we were treated as anything but White.

In Fort Worth, we had Katy Lake Elementary School in the Southside, M.G. Ellis in the Northside and a Mexican school near the courthouse. Those few that made it to high school had to go to Trimble Tech. It was similar in Dallas. There was Eagle Ford District 49 School and Mexican Americans had to go to Dallas (Crozier Tech) HS in downtown even though there were schools nearby. Eagle Ford District 49 and M.G. Ellis are similar in that they were also schools for poor whites.

Tony Vasquez of Tejano Gold radio recalls when he applied to go to Paschal HS in 1967 he was denied, told he had to go to Trimble Tech. He complained to the Department of Health, Education and Welfare. He was allowed to attend Paschal.

Of course, the most vivid example of White on Brown discrimination was Joe T. Garcia’s that supposedly when Whites complained because Mexicans could eat there, the restaurant put up a “No Mexicans” sign.

There were those that fought for racial equality in Fort Worth and Dallas. All Latinos owe a debt of gratitude to all those that stood up and voiced their opposition to the way we were treated. All Latinos today benefit from the work of those brave Mexican Americans that stood up.

Today we can say “Life is good in America.” It is. It wasn’t always.

Adelante!!!!!

Felix Alv arado

Editor

To Drain the Swamp in Washington

Fri, 24 Apr 2026 14:50:19 GMT

Voting is the only way to strike back.

Local elections:

Look around your neighborhood. Is your neighborhood safe?

Do you live in a blighted community?

Do you live where there are crack houses?

Is it gang infested?

Are your parks safe at night? Or are they gang, drug and prostitute infested?

Can you walk the neighborhood at night with a secure feeling?

Look at your schools.

Is it a good school?

Do you know what goes on in the school your children attend?

Is it safe for your children to walk to and from school?

Are their gangs in school?

How is the disciplinary record in your school?

Do you attend school functions?

Is your school part of the school to prison pipeline?

As a resident of Fort Worth, teacher and administrator in the FWISD I know that we have many challenges to overcome. The challenges we have have simple solutions. In the case of education parental involvement is the answer.

Yes, politicians will tell you improvements have been made. It is not about improvements, but about what has still to be done. A simple comparison between neighborhoods in Fort Worth will demonstrate the disparity in the allocation of tax dollars.

I do believe that local politicians should measure their own performance before they recommend a specific candidate to the public. It is no great victory to be elected in a district designed for a minority. Kudos to Mary Louise Garcia who ran county wide and won. The first Mexican American in over 100 years to be elected to a non-judicial county position in over 100 years. We need more politicians to show the same meddle.

Trumpism in Fort Worth.

There are many Trump supporters in Fort Worth. Constitutionally, they are entitled to worship whomever they please. But when an elected official exhibits Trump behavior and makes derogatory remarks against a racial group, there is a problem. Reportedly, Mayor Betsy Price made some derogatory remarks about African Americans. Just because Trump makes those comments does not mean that local elected politicians can do the same thing. In Fort Worth, there may be Trump supporters but they are not enough to elect anybody. As someone who has lived through the racists era, the comments by Mayor Price have the smell of racism.

Mayor Price has also decreed that Fort Worth would not be a sanctuary city. ICE has started rounding undocumented people. Supposedly, only those with major felony convictions were supposed to be deported. Today, we find out that that is not the case. Most of those rounded up today had misdemeanor convictions. For petty offenses, you can do community service ad payback. We must keep in mind that undocumented people have friends and relatives that are American citizens. We must stand in solidarity against breaking up families.

There are city elections going on right now. As you may have noticed Mayor Price has handpicked those that she wants in the city council. We cannot send “yes” people to the city council. Mayor Price has already shown how she feels about us minorities. Time to send Mayor Price a message, “We want democracy in Fort Worth”. It tine for us to stand up and be counted. We cannot let someone else make decisions for us. We can make our own decisions.

Vote. It is time for us minorities to show our collective power. It is in the VOTE.

To Drain the Swamp in Washington – You pull the plug in Fort Worth.

You may ask yourself how that is possible. Well. You start off with your local member of Congress. I mention Pete Session up around North Dallas and Plano. He has irreconcilable differences with his constituents. Who gets fired, the constituents or Sessions? You can look at your individual congressional districts and see if your member of congress has been in Washington too long. You cannot look at party label. We have gone from an era of ideology to an era of wanton racism. To answer the question, if you un-elect Trump supporters, you take away his support.

There is the issue of the Russian Connection. Apparently, there was contact between the Trump Campaign and Russian agents. The extent of the contacts remains to be solved by the FBI and Congress. The Republicans are scurrying as fast as they can to cover the tracks of their leader. Unless Trump himself addresses the issue and exonerates himself with facts we could be headed to the Richard Nixon II.

Repealing Obamacare. We know the problems. It is easier to fix the problem than experiment with a new one. Unfortunately, Americans are paying a high price for this uncertainty and internecine warfare within the Republican Party. Failure of the Republicans to repeal Obamacare the first time does not mean that it is safe. The hatred against it is too great.

Trump draws his power in Washington from his political base. He has a relatively large base in the Metroplex, especially in Tarrant County. Naturally, politicians are afraid to oppose him lest they be voted out by the base. Politicians are afraid of Trump supporters, his base of power. . This is a red state and Republicans that want to get reelected fear the Trump base. But. The number of non-Trump supporters is much bigger than Trump supporters. You have to turn out and vote against Trump supporting politicians regardless of party.

If you want to put Trump supporters in their place. Vote. If you want revenge for all Trump has said about Mexicans, Muslims, women and everybody else, vote. There is no other way. Just as I found out in the Army. Rank has more than privileges, it has power. Everyone understand power. The power is in the vote and you can put any politician in their place with your vote. This is no time to whine. There would be nothing better in our democracy than to have a change in power in congress. It would be healthy. It can be done but only you can do it. Vote.

Felix Alvarado

Editor

The Gluttony Beast

Fri, 24 Apr 2026 14:50:18 GMT

Institutions reflect the values of the electorate that created them.

There is no such thing as institutional discrimination, there is however, institutionalized discrimination.

Institutions are made up of people.

People bring all the strengths and frailties of humans.

Institutions are made up of laws accumulated over several lifetimes.

Once enacted, the laws are difficult to change. To enforce the laws institutions are created.

Su voto

Fri, 24 Apr 2026 14:50:17 GMT

Ahora que las elecciones pasaron uno tiene descansó de tanta publicidad en la televisión. Las siguientes votaciones serán para la mesa directiva del distrito escolar de Fort Worth. Los candidatos ya se están identificando. Ahora tiene la oportunidad de investigar y ver quien es la persona más calificada.

Como candidato he caminado muchas calles de Fort Worth buscando el voto. Por lo que he preguntado a muchas personas, "votas?" Las respuestas que obtuve más frecuentemente fueron, "No, mi voto no importa” Otras respuestas fueron, “No estoy registrado; y no puedo votar, fui a la cárcel". Un hombre contesto así: "yo no voto. Mi amigo lo hace todo el tiempo. Su vida no es mejor que la mía".

La mesa directiva del distrito es una elección local. Lo que quiere decir es que los candidatos y los votantes tienes que ser del distrito. La mesa es responsable por la educación de sus hijos. Uno quiere que nuestros hijos triunfen. Eso se puedo solo con una educación. Cuando los niños abandonan la escuela se convierten en una carga económica para la sociedad en términos de desempleo, encarcelamiento, asistencia económica o estampillas de comida. Cuando estos funcionarios no cumplen con sus responsabilidades los niños son los que pierden.

En elecciones locales pocas personas votan. Pocos votos muchas veces deciden quién gana y quién pierde. Su voto podría decidir quién gana o quién pierde. Así que su voto es para que sus hijos tengan una vida mejor.

La otra cosa que confunde algunos son antecedentes penales. Si han ido a la cárcel y han completado su tiempo y libertad condicional si puede votar. La forma más fácil de saber es visitar la oficina de elecciones de condado. Ellos le asistirán.

En el sistema político el voto es el único poder que tiene. Se dice “la unida hace la fuerza” Usted debe unirse o formar asociaciones de vecinos e invitar a los políticos a hablar en sus reuniones. Lo más grande el grupo lo más influyente es. En la política uno desea mantener a los buenos políticos y deshacerse de los malos. Eso es democracia en acción.

A little brown boy goes to Paris

Fri, 24 Apr 2026 14:50:15 GMT

Forks on the road.

I shall be telling tis with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

My life has been a series of forks in the road. Each one was unexpected and each one of them changed my life. The road less taken had many potholes.

I was a young 19-year-old when I took my first trip to Paris. For three days I roamed the streets of Paris enjoying myself, awed by seeing something beside the cotton fields of West Texas. Paris is a beautiful city with many historical landmarks. The landmark that I admired the most was the Eiffel Tower. I returned several more times and each time I found Paris just as enchanting as the first time, plus I got to see other attractions. It was the visit to the Moulin Rouge that stayed with me. Having seen numerous cowboy movies, I learned that it was at the Moulin Rouge where the Can-Can dance was born. Paris is still very much a part of my heart. This was not the life the little brown boy was supposed to live.

As a young boy growing up in Orange Grove Texas. there was not much to do. We grew up in a world without dreams, expectations and hope. For young Tejano children life was a bore. We young ones would gather somewhere during the day and play marbles or tops. Marbles was a winner take all. You kept all the marbles that you won. The objective of the top was to split the opponent's top down the middle. There were no playgrounds in Orange Grove. The elementary school was over a half a mile away. There was nothing to do, on either side of the railroad tracks.

The railroad tracks divided Orange Grove into two ethnicities: The east side where the Tejanos or Mexican Americans lived and the west side where German Americans lived. There was no interaction between the two groups except at school. In school there was virtually no interaction either. There were no police officers, and you never saw any kind of law enforcement officer. Crime must have been very low or nonexistent. I started first grade in Orange Grove. I spoke Spanish. There was nobody for me to speak English with. Everybody around me spoke Spanish. All the kids that I hung around with spoke Spanish.

When I went to school I could not understand anybody. My English was not there. I had control of English by second grade. There was nobody around that I could practice English with. Up until the 5th grade I attended school sporadically I went to school only when we had a break in picking cotton. In the cotton field I was the only, lonely child.

Something happened one year because train cars were parked and they were just filled with food apples oranges bananas and they also had powdered milk powdered eggs cheese. All you had to do was stand in line and get what you wanted. You didn't have to pay.

The bored life came to a halt quickly. One morning the truck was loaded with personal stuff. We were going somewhere because the house was almost empty. My father told us to get in the truck. We took off going in one direction and that was north. That's all that I knew. My father never told us where we were going. We were going north to pick cotton. My younger brother and I did as we were told, we got in. the back of the truck.

Along the way we would visit family at Port Lavaca, LaVernia, Stafford, Marlin and San Antonio. We even took time out to visit the Houston Zoo.

Lubbock had a place called las baracas (the barracks) we would stop there to rest on the way north. Empty rooms were available all you had to do was take it over. In the morning you packed up and you went your way. There was no charge whatsoever. The rooms were not comfortable, but they were free. No reservations required.

When we reached the cotton field both sides of the narrow road were lined with cars, bumper to bumper. Everyone was here picking cotton.

Our nightly entertainment was listening to Mexican radio station XEW. It was Novelas and mariachi music. On the weekends it was a typical tub bath. Then we would go downtown. While the parents shopped, we would go to the movies. The movies always had an introduction Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, Hopalong Cassidy, somebody like that and then we saw a Mexican movie. Pedro Infante, Jorge Negrete, all Mexican movie stars.

The Texas State Legislature legitimized the use of child labor during

cotton picking season. Picking cotton had a higher priority than going to

school. Many children like me were enslaved to cottonfields with no way

out.

Consequently, I received at best a very sporadic education between grades 1

and 5. Other children were not as fortunate. They were enslaved to cotton

fields until they were adults. We were all denied an education.

In North Texas, I went to school with mostly White kids. I did not make friends with the White kids, but I did not experience any discrimination either. For lunch I always ate tacos. It was a novelty to White kids. They were always inquisitive as to what I was eating. They were eager to trade their sandwiches for my tacos. Neely Ward was a one room schoolhouse out in the cotton fields near the New Mexico border. It was a one room schoolhouse with one teacher. I recall the lady taught more than one grade. There was no principal, counselor, or any type of administrative support.

One year we did what we always did, pack the truck. This year was different; When we got to our destination there was no cotton to pick. The cotton-picking machine had picked up all the cotton. The machine picked up the cotton we normally picked. We were allowed to pick up the discarded cotton; what the machine left behind. There was a 50/50 arrangement. We kept 50% of whatever a bale of cotton sold for. That was the end of our cotton-picking days. For hundreds of thousands of us cotton pickers our way of sustenance was gone. We did not return.

The cotton-picking machine changed our lifestyle. We were no longer cotton pickers. We had been replaced by technology. It was a radical change. Our lifestyle would no longer be rural. We became urban dwellers. San Antonio was our new home. Orange Grove, our winter homeland was a distant memory. With the road most taken blocked, my father took the road less traveled. That road led us to San Antonio. We had been victimized by change.

When there was no more cotton to pick my father had to decide where to resettle. His decision was to resettle in San Antonio. Without a source of income, we were in dire straits. We no longer had the extra income from child labor.

Urban dwelling was a lifestyle that was new, unknown, and mysterious. I knew that we no longer had the income from cotton picking. What I did was to walk around San Antonio and look for dumps where I could find copper, bronze and lead that to sell as scrap metal. I found all the dumps. longer had the income from cotton picking. To earn money for the family I became a scavenger. I picked the dumps dry. Whatever money I made went to my mother for food. When you are fighting for survival, you do not have time to be frightened.

The track My high school transcript has a notation that I attended 24 public schools prior to enrolling at Edgewood ISD. Neely Ward was gone like the wind, like Orange Grove just a distant memory. I was in a new education environment.

I was not so young that I did not know that we no going from dump to dump looking for copper, bronze, and lead that I could sell. Whatever money I made went to my mother for food. When you are fighting for survival, you do not have time to be frightened.

I adapted to urban life. This time I went to the same school all year. No more checking in and out of school between cotton fields. School in San Antonio was different. I did not fit well with the other students. I did not speak local pachuco (slang) language and I had a very thick Mexican accent. I was not used to the urban lifestyle. I was an outcast.

In San Antonio I went to school 6th grade at Burleson Elementary, 7 and 8 Roosevelt Junior High and 9:10 11-12 Edgewood High School. I did well in school. although I was handicapped because it was hard to make friends. I was a country boy in the middle of city folk.

San Antonio was a new world. The Spanish here was different. It was a slang called pachuco. There were gangs. The Ghost Town and the Blackjacks. Occasionally there were rumors of rumbles and students would run towards them.

I had a friend, Jacinto who was bigger than anybody else and we got along so I knew if I was with him, I was safe.

Going to school full time was a new experience for me. I started the 6th grade with Mr. Torres, my history teacher. Mr. Torres took a personal interest in my education. He wanted me to go to Keystone, a private school. I had no idea what he was talking about.

Coach Shelton, at Roosevelt JH saw me as a champion athlete. He took me to a Texas Relays in Austin so I could see all the athletes there. Of course, it's something I did not know about. None of this existed in the cotton field. Mr. Torres and Coach Shelton spoke of topics that I knew nothing about.

In the 7th grade I was one of several Guinea pigs who was passed from the 7th to the 8th grade and given algebra to see if we could cope with algebra in the eighth grade.

At Edgewood HS I tried out for the track team. On my very first try I went around once came back and I asked the coach how I had done. He looked at me and just said: “I didn't bring my calendar with me.”

I earned money by becoming a street vendor of fruits and vegetables I also helped a friend distribute the newspaper. We would start rolling the paper at midnight. We had to deliver the people by 6:00 in the morning. That caused me to miss school, occasionally. I volunteered to work the serving line at the cafeteria so I could eat free.

I was a Senior at Edgewood High School, getting ready to graduate. Mr. Campesi the band superintendent had promised me a musical scholarship to St. Mary’s or Trinity University. In high school in the band, I played trombone. My playing was good enough for the district music superintendent to assure me that I had a music scholarship to Trinity or St. Mary’s University.

From the first grade I loved going to school. It was a surreal world. I loved playing in the band. I loved hearing the A Cappella Choir. The highlight as a musician was playing a trombone solo to God of Our Fathers at the Edgewood Music Festival. That was bigger than playing Hail to the Chief for Harry Truman when he came to dedicate Roosevelt Jr High.

I joined the Naval Reserve while in high school. On Saturday’s I was in front of the TV watching Roger Staubach play for the Naval Academy. I loved the Navy. In the summer I took my first airplane ride. It was an American Airlines DC6 from San Antonio to San Diego, CA for Navy basic training. It was rough but it was a lot of fun. I had never seen a burlesque show before, but they were everywhere. And they were not off limits. I enjoyed the San Diego Zoo.

In the Navy you must know how to swim. I did not. When signaled to jump, you must jump, voluntarily. If you don't, you get thrown in and you will get thrown in until you learn how to jump in the pool on your own.

I got thrown into the water many times because I had a hard time learning to swim. Learn to float was the best I did. I did well in the Naval Reserve. Got promoted from Seaman Recruit to Seaman Apprentice on the first try. It appeared like I had a great career in the Navy.

All was going well with my education. I was getting ready to graduate. I would be the first one in my family to graduate from high school. I was called into the Dean’s office one day early in my senior year.

The Dean notified me that I was being suspended from school for playing hooky. I did not even know what the word hooky meant. I learned fast. I was skipping school. Never was I asked for a reason for not attending school. There was no attempt to call my parents. I had never gotten into any trouble all the time I went to school. I was livid. The dean had made up his mind; all he wanted me to do was sign the paperwork. How could anybody want to suspend me from school because the only days I missed was when I overslept because we were delivering the newspaper. Somehow things did not make sense. When I was picking cotton, it was okay for me to miss school. Missing school to help support the family was no longer permitted.

The Naval Reserve got involved because they wanted me to finish high school. If I did not return to school, I would be shipped to San Diego for ninety days as a punitive measure. That did not go over well with me. Since Edgewood only had one high school, I had to take the suspension, take a trip to San Diego, or walk. I walked out. I did not like the choices.

In a few days I was visited by the Army recruiter. He assured me that if I joined the Army, he could get me discharged from the Naval Reserve. I told him he had 24 hours to get me into the Army or forget about me. Twenty-four hours later I was in a Viscount jet on my way to Fort Carson, CO. My dream of a college education and a Navy career ended that night. It was my last day as an 18-year-old. I turned 19 on my way to Army basic training. My only reason for joining the Army was to get out of the predicament that I was in. Specifically, I was not going to take the suspension.

Next morning, he came for me. We went to Edgewood to get my education file. On the way out The Dean commented “He will never make it. He will be back in two weeks.” I went to the recruiting station. I took all the battery of tests I took the physical exam. I was sworn in and that evening I was on my way to Fort Carson Co. for basic training. I never looked back. I was looking at a very uncertain future.

The transition from civilian to military life started immediately when we got to Fort Carson. The most notable change was the haircut. How to march, how to fire a rifle, those things that make you a soldier, Monday through Friday we trained and rested Saturday and Sunday.

The first two weeks were dedicated to learning how to be a soldier. How to march, how to fire a rifle, those things that make you a soldier, Monday through Friday we trained and rested Saturday and Sunday. There was a local cantina where on Saturday and Sunday we would gather and go drink beer and eat pizza.

This life was totally strange. I made acquaintances but I did not make friends. In the beginning I was drinking coke when everybody else was drinking beer. It did not take long for that to change.

The Army was swift. It was the same routine every day. Have breakfast, get ready for inspection, and train on how to be an infantryman. Learn how to point the rifle the right way.

One of the briefings was from a military lawyer: There are consequences for going AWOL (Absent Without Leave). In this corner of the fort there's a fence that has a hole in it. If you go through that hole, you will never get caught. Remember in the history of the Army no one has ever gotten punished for doing something wrong. Yes, no one has ever been punished for doing something wrong. They only get punished for getting caught.

On the third week we were allowed to go downtown Colorado Springs. Someone rented a room at a hotel and a whole bunch of us stayed in that one little room, it was something new for me, a whole new experience, we went roller skating. It did not take me long to learn how to roller skate. Then we went to eat Italian food. I enjoyed walking and sightseeing.

On Sunday I went back to Fort Carson. When I was crossing the street my wallet fell out of my trousers and my papers went flying everywhere. I thought I had picked up all my papers, but I did not pick up my pass. I was asked for my pass at the main gate, and I did not have one. I was declared AWOL. My first Sergeant was called to come get me at the gate. His reply was unprintable: Let the S“******”stay the night.” That is the only night that I have ever spent behind bars.

I made it through Army basic training. Next would be AIT (advanced individual training) or what the army had assigned me to administrative school.

My life was totally changed. I made acquaintances but I did not make friends. In the beginning I was drinking coke when everybody else was drinking beer. It did not take long for that to change. The Army was swift. It was the same routine every day. Have breakfast, get ready for inspection, and train on how to be an infantryman. Learn how to point the rifle the right way.

The Army had a system of using trainees to do clean pots and pans. Especially at night we had to clean up all the pots and pans before we were released. I had to do it one day. (It was called KP “kitchen police”). I was up late doing pots and pans so when I got off I lie down in my bed and I fell asleep woke up in the morning by somebody who wanted me to go to the order the room and talk to the first Sergeant I did and the first Sergeant wanted to know how come I had been AWOL the night before when I was supposed to be doing makeup training. I was asleep in bed. That was not a good excuse. I had to get my punishment, and my punishment was to sign in every hour on the hour 24 hours a day for two weeks. I had to sign in, in person.

I was not so lucky the second time. Privates had to pull what was called Kitchen Police (KP). KP was nothing more than washing pots and pans all day and into the night until the mess hall was clean. When you left you were tired after putting in more than a sixteen-hour day. I did not check the bulletin board that night. I had makeup training that night starting at six. I did not get off until eight but that did not matter, I did not show up. The punishment this time was two weeks of signing in every hour on the hour.

Looking back, flogging would have been a more humane punishment. Imagine having to get up every night every hour on the hour to go sign in at the orderly room. The day I graduated from AIT and the period of agony was coming to an end. ******

The punishment was so harsh that trainees were taking bets that I would not last for two weeks . I survived the punishment and made it through school as a clerk typist one of about 3 or 4 that made clerk typist. I was one of them. We were all notified that we were going overseas for our next assignment. Overseas meaning Germany. The day came that we were supposed to get in a train to take us to Fort Dix NJ. We lined up outside and we must look at in the bus to go catch a train well I was in line and I was ready to catch the bus when I heard my name called. First Sergeant called me. He wanted to tell me that I had to go sign in one more time before I left because it was not 8:00am yet and I had to sign in. I signed in ran back and got in the bus and I was ready to go.

It was a sweet goodbye.

We were all boarding a train to take us to Fort Dix NJ and on to Germany. The Army had ships so the nightmare stories of people getting seasick for two weeks roamed freely. I was surprised to be taken out of the boarding line to go sign in one last time. The company had been taking bets on me. Those that bet that I would survive and those that thought I would go AWOL.

I remember one thing about the train ride to Fort Dix we stopped at a small town close to a liquor store and many people got out and went to the liquor store to buy liquor. The owner said “no” I cannot sale to you because you're all underage. Somebody explained to him that we were all going overseas. The owner said go ahead and buy. Enough to get everybody drunk for two or three days. I don't know how long the train ride was. That is the only thing I remember.

For the next three days we ate and slept on the train. Along the way the conductor would stop in small towns. We had a chance to get off the train and stretch our legs. Of course, there were always liquor stores close to the train. There was a dash to buy booze.

We made it to Fort Dix, NJ. We were told to go to the bulletin board and check to see when we were scheduled to depart. Sure enough. There were hundreds of names on the board. For whatever reason my name was not on the manifest. Everybody except me boarded the USS Patton going to Bremerhaven Germany.

I hung around the barracks for about a week with nothing to do. Finally, my name was called off for some detail. We had to go to the Chaplain’s Office. He had requested a detail. When we got there, he just told us to enjoy the day he just wanted to get us off the dirty details. Finally, my name was called. I had to go to Personnel. When I got there, I had to fill out a bunch of paperwork. Which did not take long. I had only lived in Orange Grove and San Antonio. The times that I moved around picking cotton did not count.

Went back to the barracks for the afternoon formation. The sergeant running the show told us to listen because some of had gotten shipment orders. I got out of formation and got in a running position. Someone said for me to get back into place I said my name was going to be the first called. It was. That night I got on board a military jet and we took off to Frankfurt, Germany. I also had my assignment, Hq VII Corps in Stuttgart/Moehringen.

The next leg of the trip took me to Stuttgart. The Army had its own train passenger cars. It also had tags to wear around your neck that had your destination in German. I was picked up at the train station and taken to Kelly Barracks.

It was night when I finally opened the doors to the room in the barracks that was going to be my new home. What greeted me was a loud, resounding “Hey, we got us a “N******” here”. I stood there motionless. Finally, I grabbed my bag saw an empty bunk and asked if it was taken. It was mine for the night.

Prior to joining the Army I had not experienced any type of discrimination, prejudice or racism in Texas. Faced with insults like this would get angry and fight that was the worst thing that you could do. You were going to get beat up. In the morning you would have to face the music and usually that was being pushed out of the Army for being a troublemaker.

I reported to my duty assignment to find out that the reason I was detained at Fort Dix was that I was being processed for a security clearance. I got a temporary Secret clearance; The position required a Top-Secret clearance. More paperwork that is all. I picked cotton with skunks, snakes and armadillos. They had nothing bad to say about me. I would be typing many Top-Secret plans.

Next day, I went to Personnel. The Army classified me as a clerk typist. Personnel had scheduled interviews for me. Apparently, several offices needed clerk-typists. But the highest priority was G3 (Operations, Plans, and Training). Rumors had it that clerks did not last long there. The folks at G3 Plans had their eyes on me. They prepared war plans and you had to be good to survive the punishment of typing all day at maximum speed.

But a young captain had a different idea. He worked G3 Operations and the office had several vacancies. The office had to be manned 24/7 because that was the office that was going to send everyone to war. He was by himself. Could not even go to the bathroom. He won the argument and I went to work for him. He taught me how to do his job, and we got along well together. We made a good team. Of course, the Plans people agreed to give me up on one condition. They had access to my services on demand.

Typing War Plans was exciting because I got to check the script as I was typing making minor corrects of spelling and even grammar. Bigger mistakes were more sensitive because all these college graduates did not want their boss to look at them as some inept nincompoop.

I was notified almost immediately that I had temporary access to Secret material. Once the Secret was approved, I had temporary access to Top Secret material. Once Top Secret was approved I had access to more compartmentalized material. It was having a clean record and being good at typing that got me the job. What was challenging was that here I was a Private in the US Army. Not too far removed from the cotton fields of Texas and working with all officers and all college graduates.

In Germany I was introduced to a new life United States of America. A world I had never lived before. I learned where the expression “see the big picture” comes from. We had a map on the wall and that map everybody referred to when they were writing their plans. Captains and Majors wrote the plans and I typed them. The General got briefed on the plans and he was the one who said “I buy” it or “I not buy it.” If he did not buy it, it was back to writing it again and typing it again.

It was hard work, but it was enjoyable hard work. It was not an 8-hour day. One day I asked my boss for a pass so I could go to Paris. First word out of his mouth was “no.” We talked back and forth back finally I just looked at him put the paper in front of him and said: “sign the damn thing.” He did. The little brown boy was on his way to Paris.

I had my share of harassment given my Mexican accent. Most had a lot of fun with it like; 'how are you going to get to Paris you don't know English you don't know German and you don't know French” that was nonstop. Finally, one time I looked at them all and I told them. “This is how I'm going to get to Paris, when I get in in the car I'm going to look to my left. Looking out the window is this beautiful girl. She is going to know German English and French. That's how I want to get to Paris.” dream on dream on that's all that I heard. The day I went to Paris and looked to the left and just as I had predicted there she was. That was my trip to Paris.

One night my Yankee friends told me to not make any plans for the following night, they were going to teach me English. I completely dismissed the comment. Next night when I came in and was getting ready to go out, they closed the door and put a guard at the door. There was a chair in the middle of the room. I had to sit down. The lessons began. I had to repeat every word that they said.

It was my social life that blossomed. I even met a girl friend. This would be the start of my new life. I would mature and expand my world. In my room there were Yankees and there were Rebels. The Rebels didn't really like me that much, but I was more acceptable to the Yankees, and they started inviting me to go out with them. I still had this problem with English. I would go to the mess hall to eat. Since I did not know the name of any of the food or even recognized it, I had to point to what I wanted to eat, and I would listen to the person behind me and the person in front me to see what they wanted so I could learn the terminology.

I was still not very excited by some of the crowd there because I would be in line to eat and somebody would come behind me and whisper in my ear and whisper: “N(.…….) go to the back of the line.) I just kept quiet.

The chief of staff was a Brigadier General from San Antonio. Almost every time that he was in his office he would pass by my office, sneak in and say “Good morning Private Alvarado. How are you today?” He would visit me regularly at the office to chat. Made all the officers mad because they had to stand at attention when he was in the room. During a field exercise he had to catch a helicopter to go watch a football game in Paris. As he walked out, he said “Private Alvarado, I am going to Paris to watch a football game. I am leaving you in charge”.

One morning the general staff and he asked me one question “Private Alvarado why haven't you been promoted yet?” I did not have a chance to answer that question.

It was in the Army that I would mature.

PAUSE

My Vietnam Experience

Fri, 24 Apr 2026 14:50:11 GMT

I knew when I resigned from Officer Candidate School that my next assignment would be Vietnam. I was not disappointed. Got an assignment to the 89th MP Brigade. I spent December 1966 in San Antonio with family finally January 1967 flying to Oakland the Army processing point for Vietnam. I had a friend stationed at Fort Baker California and he came by the post to pick me up and spend the day with him and his family. The fort is on the other side of the Golden Gate Bridge.

When I returned I learned that I had Charge of Quarters duty that night. Gruesome discovery. I was instructed to turn off all the lights at 10. Well. One of the soldiers that worked there did not take kindly to that so when I knocked on his door he threw the boot at me. Fortunately it bounced against the wall. I just said something like “fuck you” and kept on going.

In the morning we were processed and got on board some unknown airline chartered to take us to Vietnam. Landed at Ben Hoa. Taken to the 90th Replacement Battalion at Long Binh for processing onward. Kind of. Got there and found out that my orders had been cancelled. Seems like someone wanted to promote their man and I was going to take the billet so it was a clear send him away. Which they did. I waited for a week at the 90th waiting for someone to tell me something. Finally, this sergeant comes to me and asks me how long I had been there and what duties I had. One week and none was the answer. Wrong answer. He informed me that I was going to be Commander of the Relief. Transients did the perimeter defense and that is what I had to do. Deliver the guards to their post and make the rounds to make sure all was well. And everything the sergeant explained would have happened except for a minor detail. While he was talking to me my named was called out and I was admonished for not being in the bus. Apparently, someone was supposed to notify me to get in the bus. So I boarded the bus and off into the wild yonder we all went. Along the way I learned that I was going for an interview at Hq USARV. We parked at the transient tents and were told to visit the offices and look for a job. I started at the Personnel place and went from office to office. I was told the same thing at each place that had my specialty. Saving the billet for my soldier.

Finally I stumbled into this Master Sergeant. He just pointed at a Sergeant and told me to watch what he did because I would replace him when he left. Until then I was shuffled from one desk to another doing odd jobs. Mostly typing. Lots of it. They all knew that I was a clerk typist, they just did not know how good I was. They found out. In between I saw what the sergeant was doing. Finally the day arrived he was to leave. He called me to the window handed me a sub-machine gun and a 45 pistol with a beautiful western holster. He explained the keys. Somewhere in Saigon was this apartment. The keys were for the apartment. In the apartment was this beautiful French Vietnamese lady. She went with the apartment. He also gave me the keys to a 21/4 ton navy truck.

All this in exchange for doing people favors. Like letting them return 60 days early and getting credit for the tour. You had to spend ten months in country in order to get credit for the tour. Otherwise, you would be return to Vietnam for another tour. You did this until you got it right. Curtailing the tour by 60 days was an authority that I had and no one above me had to approve anything. I was in contact with Department of the Army in Washington and I took all my orders from them.

My title was NCOI Personnel Management Division. I had four people working for me. I knew what I had to do. I just did not know what the four under me did. I really never found out. My hands were full with just my job.

Ton Son Nhut Airbase and had to be bussed to Saigon at midnight. Not bad for traveling the most dangerous highway in Vietnam. All we had was a military police escort. A Caliber .50 mounted on the top of the jeep. We made it to Saigo n.

The Education of Mestizo Children

Fri, 24 Apr 2026 14:50:09 GMT

The Education of Mestizo Children.

By Felix Alvarado

When I started writing, I asked myself this question “How do you put Dumpty Dumpty back together again?”

I recall my personal experience getting educated in Texas as a young boy. I was one of those little brown boys that was relegated to picking cotton. I was six years old when I was picking cotton. School appeared on the horizon. We always beat the sun to the cottonfield. The mornings were always cool and pleasant. The afternoons became unbearably hot. Clouds were a welcome sight.

In the mornings I would see a yellow bus taking kids to school. In the afternoon the bus would return loaded with kids bringing them home. Always on the horizon. When the field was done and I had nothing to do it was time for me to go to school. I would get ready in the morning, grab my taco, and wait for the bus to come pick me up and take me to school. I checked myself in every time that I went to school. I also checked myself out.

Neely Ward in Morton. the most memorable school that I attended. It was a one room schoolhouse one teacher with several grades to teach. The school was out in the cotton fields. Most of the times I was the only non-White person that attended school. I never had any problems at all with any student.

The first fully functional school that I attended was Edgewood. There was a complete staff, a teacher for every subject and a cafeteria, basketball, football, band and real rest rooms. I tried all three but the only one that I was good at was band. I joined the band and played trombone. I volunteered to work the cafeteria serving line and I got to eat free.

cv the means of mobility in all three branches of the military whether it's enlisted or officer education matters. Education determines what job you qualify for and how well prepared you are for promotion. When you first interview to join the military, you take a series of tests that determine what career field you will be placed in. How well you do in these placement tests is a testament about your school and you.

The barrio is not the American Dream. There is a vast inequality between a wealthy school district and a district in the barrio. Adjusting to a White Anglo Saxon Protestant (WASP) environment has its challenges to any child from the barrio. The quality of education depends on where you live. Areas with a high White population perform better than areas with a high Mestizo population. Mestizo children are mixed Spanish and Indian.

There are historical factors that have contributed to the dismal performance of Mestizo children in school. The education of Mestizo children has historically and tragically been neglected since Spanish Colonial times.

Factors that affect the education of Mestizo children are:

1. Parents that do not, read, write or speak English.

2. In Colonial Spain skin color affected access to the education of Mestizo children.

3. Mestizo children suffered the same shortcoming in Spanish Colonial Texas, Republic of Texas and the State of Texas.

4. When Whites settled North Texas, they brought their prejudices with them. Almost all small towns have monuments dedicated to the military service of Confederate soldiers. Southerners considered non-White people to be the same as the N-word.

5. Although classified as White, Mestizo children suffered from segregation.

After the Mexican American War of 1848, North Texas was wide open for settlement. Whites were lured to North Texas by the railroad and the State . The railroad and the State were giving away tracts of land to anyone willing to settle in Texas.

As you drive around North Texas you will see reminders of the early education of White children. Small, single-room schoolhouses accommodated limited class sizes.

Families that came to Texas were small. The one book they carried was the Bible. Elementary schools were a necessity for young families. Schools provided babysitting while both parents worked. Education continued through high school and college. There was an abundance of education opportunities for Whites. In contrast, Tejano children attended mostly up to a third grade.

Not all the children suffered from education malnutrition. The children of well to do Mestizo parents could attend parochial schools and some could even go to public schools.

When we look at education we have to look at South Texas and North Texas as being separate entities. Education in South Texas has been stagnant. South Texas was the land of the Tejano. Education was always there but there was never a necessity or urgency to provide education to children. South Texas had a lot of time to get education house in order.

Child labor was not a problem. There were no jobs for children in South Texas. Although it is hard to attend school when you do not wear shoes or wear ragtag pants.

There was a piecemeal settlement of North Texas. Whites were looking for land. Confederates were fleeing the ravages of the civil war. Work on the railroad brought Mexicans to North Texas. The railroad found out very quickly that workers with their families were more productive and stayed longer. They brought their family and provided them a home. After the railroad came the coal mines. There was a large demand for experienced coal miners. Coal miners were recruited from Mexico and other countries. Incentives were higher pay, medical care and schools for children. Coal mines opened first at Bridgeport followed by Thurber. Coal miners we're also located at Lyra, Strawn, and Rock Creek. Most of the Mexicans were uneducated and could not read or write.

Birth of schools:

Pre-1848. Education was mostly for the upper class.

Post-1848. North Texas ruled by Native Americans. Eventually Whites overwhelmed Native Americans.

1880. Coal Miner Era. Almost all miners were immigrants. Education was available. Used by some. Mestizo children attended mostly to the third grade. Some became coal miners. Discovery of oil ended the need for coalminers.

When coal mining ended miners scattered North, East, surrounding counties and to the metroplex. Jobs were available in Cement City (Dallas) and meatpacking plants in Fort Worth.

1910. Disaster for South Texas. The ravages of the Mexican Revolution caused hundreds of thousands of Mexicans to cross the border back into the United States and South Texas. They were mostly low skilled and uneducated. They found work in agriculture mostly cotton. The demand for cotton pickers was so great that “braceros” were imported from Mexico.

Children were exempt from school so they could pick cotton. Picking cotton was more important than school. Every day I heard the same chant repeatedly “you do not need an education to pick cotton.” It was the mental conditioning that school was not important that was dangerous. The mental conditioning that was passed from generation to generation.

1954. Lack of foresight and planning doomed hundreds of thousands of children into ignorance.

I was little brown boy that at six years was picking cotton, I only attended school in between cotton fields. My high school transcript has a notation that I attended 24 public schools in five years.

Other children my age were not as fortunate as I was to pursue an education regardless of obstacles. If I had not pursued that education, then I too would have been ignorant. I would not have been able to help my children get their education. And my children would not have been able to help their children get an education.

Literacy is the future. In 1954 Those picking cotton could never have predicted the onset of the cotton-picking machine. No one was prepared. Scientists are working on new technology. How do we prepare the future when we don't know what the future looks like. o

That is a problem with education in Texas it was ignored for too many years and now we are paying the price. People in Cuba get a better education than we do.

In the past the wealthiest school districts have been reluctant to give up their money and the State has been reluctant to take the money also. All I can say is that there is an election coming up and this issue can only be settled in the ballot box.

We cannot go back and relive any part of the past. We cannot allow our children to relive atrocities that were committed upon us that relegated us to third world living. We Are no longer picking cotton.

This is my personal experience. I went to my very first meeting at the school where was going to teach, I sat down, and waited for the meeting to begin. A teacher comes in hurls some papers to someone and says, “I quit I'm not going to teach 9th graders.” and walks out. The next teacher comes in and says “sometimes I feel like throwing a piece of raw meat into the classroom before I go in.”

This is where I pause.

Written by Felix Alvarado who is solely responsible for all content

Henry Martinez - A Tribute to “Si se puede”

Fri, 24 Apr 2026 14:50:08 GMT

By Felix Alvarado

Henry R. Martinez Sr. has proud Mexican roots. He is the son of one of the original colonists of Cement City. His father made it to Dallas working on the railroad. When he got to Dallas he found out that they were hiring workers at the cement plant and stayed. He then got his family to come to Dallas. Cement City had the highest concentration of Mexicans in Dallas in the 1910 time period.

Henry graduated from Dallas Tech HS (Crozier Tech HS) school where most children of Mexican immigrants were sent. Children of Mexican immigrants were not permitted to attend Adamson HS or Sunset HS even though they were nearby. He attended Eagle Ford District 49 School more famous because one of its students was Bonnie Parker. Leadership is a trait he learned from his father who made it a point that his three sons have a high school education. This was during a time that few children of Mexican immigrants went beyond the third grade.

Henry Martinez began his public service in the military. He is a Korean War veteran. Henry Martinez is a consummate community organizer. His activism can be seen by a Texas historical marker at the Campo Santo de Cemento Grande; a stone monument at the Wal-Mart parking lot at Cockrell Hills Road and I30 that pays tribute to those Mexicans that arrived in 1912; and a stone monument on Singleton Blvd at the entrance to the old Eagle Ford. Cementerios Mexicanos are a testament to the disparate treatment and social isolation of the Mexicano where even after death he could not be equal to Whites.

Henry Martinez was successful in getting the Dallas ISD to change the bus routes to go into the neighborhoods and pick up the students. Prior to that children had to walk to the main street to be picked up. He also succeeded in having a school in West Dallas named after his brother Eladio Martinez. His brother was killed in action in WWII in the Philippines. Eladio Martinez Learning Center is named in honor of his brother Eladio Martinez. Eladio was the last person buried at the Campo Santo de Cemento Grande.

As President of Ledbetter Neighborhood Association Henry Martinez' biggest accomplishment was being part of the vanguard that was successful in changing Dallas city council elections from at large elections to single member districts. Minorities did not stand a chance of being elected to office in city-wide elections. His biggest detriment he had to overcome was a prevalent “no se puede” attitude.

Next issue we will learn the roots of the migration of Mexicans to North Texas.

How Evil is Socialism?

Fri, 24 Apr 2026 14:50:06 GMT

In Spain, Francisco Franco was called, El Caudillo, or El Generalisimo. Around the world he was called a dictator. He was the last surviving Fascist leader. In 1936 he led a rebellion against the legally elected leftist government of Spain. The Civil War ended in 1939 with Franco as the victor. Franco led Spain until his death in in 1975. The death of Franco frightened the Spaniards. In Germany, I could feel the apprehension of Spaniards. Under Franco Spain had been a very stable county.

With his death Spain faced a was very uncertain future. Perhaps Franco expected his dictatorship to continue after his death. His right-wing bureaucracy was still in control. Franco's designated successor was Prince Juan Carlos. Upon Franco’s death Juan Carlos became king. The future of Spain lay in the hands King Juan Carlos. It was Juan Carlos who would transition Spain from a dictatorship to a constitutional monarchy.

I visited Spanish clubs in Germany and took vacations to Spain. Something I had done since the early 60’s. I played cards with Spaniards in bars many times and I never felt the tension of living in a dictatorship. I was admonished once that I was not a Spaniard therefore, I was isolated from the political repression in Spain. From a distance, I could hear the cacophony in Spain. People were yearning for both a democracy and a return to dictatorship. A coup de etat was attempted by the Civil Guard but King Juan Carlos was having no part of it. He squelched it.

The eventual first prime minister of Spain would be Adolpho Suarez. He and Juan Carlos wiggled their way through Franco’s bureaucracy to garner support for a constitutional monarchy. A prime minister would be elected by the Spanish people, it is ironic that the Spanish people would elect a Socialist as prime minister almost 40 years after a civil war that killed thousands of Spaniards. Many Spaniards knew of the Civil War. They could see Pablo Picasso’s Guernica at the Prado Museum in Madrid. They also could see the huge cross at the Valle do los Caidos, honoring all the fallen soldiers of the Civil War. It was rumored that thousands of slaved leftists' civil war veterans were used to build the monument.

I was studying for my college degree in Spain while all this was happening. I was interested in the politics. I heard and read Felipe Gonzalez. He would be the third prime minister of Spain and he too was a Socialist. I was interested in his politics and that of his deputy Alfonso Guerra.

I could glean from their writing that Socialism coexists with capitalism. Much like capitalism coexisted with the monarchy in England. You can read Adam Smith author of The Wealth of Nations for a better understanding. You cannot have Socialism, a Monarchy, or a Republic without capitalism. A state cannot exist without capitalism. Another word for capitalism is money.

Spain under Franco was a dictatorship. After Franco's death there was a constitutional monarchy. Power shifted from the left to the right based on the will of the people. Much like England and the United States. The people decide the direction of the country.

Socialism, Monarchy, and a Republic are like triplets each with a different name. I see Republicans trying to instill fear of Socialism on the American people and I shake my head in disbelieve that educated people do not know the systems of government around the world. So, I ask myself, what kind of idiots are we choosing?

Felix Alvarado

Gastarbeiter

Fri, 24 Apr 2026 14:50:04 GMT

In the late 1950’s early 1960’s, Germany was in desperate need of low skill workers for its factories and service industry. To fill this need Germany instituted a program called gastarbeiter, guest worker. Thousands of immigrants from all over Europe responded. The immigrants came from countries like Spain economically devastated because of a brutal civil war. Most of Europe was still recovering from WWII and Germany had made the fastest recovery.

The program was well planned. The workers were recruited in their home country and came to live in facilities that were prepared for them. With its mass transportation system, transportation was not a problem. Communication was a slight problem but Spaniards were quick to pick up German and get along.

Brown on Brown Racism – It starts early, it starts at home.

Fri, 24 Apr 2026 14:50:02 GMT

Perhaps not many remember the big debate between Tony Sanchez and Dan Morales. It was mano a mano, macho a macho, it was billed as the first debate between two candidates for governor, entirely in Spanish.

Of course, it was a show, pitting a candidate that spoke Spanish against one that did not. It was a putdown. Brown on Brown discrimination has existed from the beginning of Texas. It was thoroughly logical in the time of royalty. There was a pecking order. That pecking order was passed down over generations. So much that when Anglos saw this pecking order they liked it so much they adopted it. Why change a good thing?

In a way, we were doomed from the beginning. The mayordomo was at the top of the pecking order. Anglo bosses called on the mayordomo to enforce their rules and policies. If you wanted a job, you had to please the mayordomo.

Perhaps, this explains the lack of political activism on the part of the Mexican American community of Fort Worth. With political bosses telling you what to do who to vote for, it was easier to given in than fight. Mexican Americans were used to this atmosphere, that is how things got done in Mexico. When leaders stood up to try to change things for the better there was always someone there to prevent the leader from rocking the boat.

Consequently, the Mexican American community did not develop the political skills necessary to improve education, social and economic situation. Unlike Dallas that has a vibrant Latino community Fort Worth has nothing. Dallas has the Dallas Mexican American Historical League, a museum, and a strong LULAC district. This folks is not disrespecting Fort Worth, and I am not moving to Dallas, this is reality.

What we are talking about is changing a mindset. I have been disgusted with the negative comments regarding race made by political campaigns. Brown on Brown discrimination begins at home. It can be parents forcing their child to learn Spanish. Children that do not speak English as categorized as having parents that do not want to preserve their culture. It can be parents describing others as “sellouts” or “vendidos”. Or, “se quiere hacer blanco.” There are always everybody’s favorites, oreo and coconut.

I have heard more Brown on Brown racist remarks than all the racists remarks that I was called when I first joined the Army. Leaders lead by example. Anyone trying to get elected must set the right example. The school districts need to confront the issues of children that do not speak Spanish being bullied at school. If anyone says that it does not exist they have not listened to the children. What advice do I have to give to politicians, “cut it out!”

To fight SB4 we must come together as a unified voice. We cannot allow anyone to take us for granted. Our children need to best example and leadership possible. There are no more mayordomos to control us. What do you do with politicians that don’t want to listen? You vote them out of office.

Felix Alvarado