Several days later I attended a meeting of Upward Bound investigators from Washington, D.C., and university administrators. I was strongly warned about mentioning the subject to anyone. Every current and past members of the Upward Bound staff was interviewed. In the meantime, Ralph was offered the position of Dean of the Graduate School at the University of Texas in Austin. He left immediately for Austin, but was shortly fired and from Texas went to Northridge in California. He seems to have had an honorable, scholarly career on the Pacific coast.
On July 10 I traveled to Boulder to lecture on the situation in northern New Mexico and on the history, culture and socioeconomic conditions among the Mexican‑Americans for two days to a large group of teachers brought in from nine states to be trained to work with minority groups. Just before this trip I had been recruited by the Volt Technical Corporation and Educational Projects Incorporated, the latter headed by Peter Scarth, to provide services to migrant and seasonal farm projects around the nation. I never quite trusted Volt and before the end of the year had left their employment.
On August 16 I rode the bus to Albuquerque to attend the annual conference of the Alianza. Numerous plain clothes police officers and F.B.I. agents were in attendance. I found them incredibly easy to spot. A number of young Anglo‑Communists were there also. At the conference I had the pleasure of several long talks with Richard Revere of the New Yorker. Reies Tijerina was out on bail. The entire environment was subdued but very militant.
I managed to identify and isolate the Communists and many of the police agents at the meeting. Reies Tijerina was under indictment by the federal government. The federal attorney asked and received a change of venue from Tierra Amarilla to Albuquerque. Lorenzo Tapia and Ralph Driscoll, Tijerina's lawyers, successfully challenged the Albuquerque jury list because of its lack of Spanish names. The federal judge then transferred the case to the Las Cruces Federal District, one of the most anti Mexican‑American districts in New Mexico. With jurors drawn from Little Texas in southeastern New Mexico, it would be impossible to secure a fair trial.
Right in the midst of the excitement my sister, Jerry, and her son, Stephen, came down to El Paso and visited with us for several weeks. We had the pleasure of giving them a tour of Juarez and of the interesting Mexican‑American communities east of El Paso. Our son, David, accompanied them back to Salt Lake City. Then on August 23 Ruth and I loaded our family into our station wagon and happily traveled toward Salt Lake City, where we spent the first night in my sister Jerry's home. The next day Jerry and I met with my father to discuss his autobiography. In his very early seventies, he enrolled in a class in creative writing at the University of Utah. He was a little uncertain about how to treat his marriage. After our meeting the entire family assembled at the family cabin for an enjoyable family reunion. Leaving my family at the cabin, I flew to San Francisco the next morning for the meetings of the Rural and the National Sociological Societies. I read my paper on the causes of the hostility of the Spanish‑Americans to the Forest Service in the Natural Resource Program of the Rural meetings. I enjoyed meeting Wade Andrews, John Christiansen, Lowry Nelson, James Duke, and many others. At the meetings of the National Sociological Society, Ted C. Smith and Ray Canning asked me if I were still interested in coming to the University of Utah. I answered their question with an automatic "yes". Returning to Salt Lake City, I spent several days at the cabin with my family. We left Salt Lake City on September 2.
Not wanting to return quickly to the fires of the controversies awaiting our return to El Paso, Ruth and I decided to camp at the major national parks in southern Utah. Our family enjoyed visiting and camping at Bryce, Cedar Breaks, Zion and the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. Reluctantly we drove south through Arizona. Toward evening of our first day on the road I noticed that the rain through which we were driving had become heavy. Noticing that water had started to run across the road in the washes, we stopped at the first community we encountered, Springerville. It rained hard all night. The next morning we learned that a car had been washed off the road we were traveling and its occupants drowned. I learned early that it is easy to drown in the desert. I would never continue driving once I observed heavy rain anywhere in the vicinity, especially if I saw water flowing down the arroyos.
The fall semester opened with Gary Buck, James Peterson, Thomas Carter and Barding as new faculty members. Carter, an outstanding authority on the school systems of the Southwest and the educational needs and problems of the Mexican‑Americans, came on a joint appointment with the Department of Education. I admired his commitment to the cause of the Mexican‑American student and his vast knowledge about the school systems of the Southwest. Peterson and Barding enriched out social psychology program.
Shortly after the semester began an old friend, Vincente Ximenez, called me from Washington, D.C., to let me know that the Johnson administration was organizing a conference of Mexican‑American leaders and organization delegates to be held in El Paso in conjunction with the signing of the Chamizal Treaty between the Presidents of Mexico and the United States in the spring of 1968. He invited me to speak on the land issue in New Mexico. When I asked Ximenez if the Alianza leaders had been invited, he replied that no representatives of militant organizations would be allowed to attend.
Toward the end of September I spoke on Reies Tijerina and the Alianza at a UTEP student forum. I spoke for over an hour to a filled, responsive auditorium. Much to my astonishment I noticed that several Mormon leaders, including our Bishop Gerald Pratt, were in attendance. I also noticed the presence of several John Birchers. Their presence caused me to speak a bit more militantly than I had intended. I spoke for over an hour on the causes of land loss among the Spanish‑Americans of northern New Mexico and the impact of this loss upon the economic and social life of the rural northern New Mexico communities.
Reies Tijerina, who had not received an invitation to the Mexican‑American conference in El Paso, asked me by telephone to come up to Albuquerque to meet with him and other Alianza leaders to discuss the situation in early October. I advised them to come to the conference to protest the failure of the Johnson administration to invite them. Then I continued my journey by plane to Denver to attend the annual meetings of the Rocky Mountain Social Science Association as president. Delighted with the continuous increase in attendance and in the number of disciplines participating, I spoke for the last time as president at the formal dinner, pointing out the importance of the association in breaking down discipline barriers and in overcoming the effects of cultural isolation of the many scattered schools distant from each other in the Rocky Mountain West. I had enjoyed my tenure as board member, vice president and president of the association and appreciated the many fine friends that I had made throughout the entire region.
I handed in my presentation on land grants to the office of the Interagency Council for Mexican‑American Affairs, the sponsoring agency for the Mexican‑American Conference. I then went out to the airport with the embattled Father Robert Garcia to pick up Reies L. Tijerina and the Alianza contingent. I arranged for friendly newspaper and television reporters to be there, but carefully dodged the camera. I drove them to Thomas Sinclair's apartment to meet with local Chicano leaders and then down to the Hotel del Norte. I had arranged for them to stay at the First Presbyterian Church, but Salvador Ramirez, hostile toward the Alianza and angry at not being invited to participate in the conference, sabotaged the arrangement. So we drove over to the Hotel del Norte to meet with Ernesto Galarza and Bert Corona, leaders of the Californian delegation from MAPA. They agreed to pay the Alianza's hotel bill. We also organized a counter‑conference in South El Paso at the Sacred Heart Auditorium, a Catholic parish hall, for all banned organizations.
The next morning, October 27, I dismissed my classes and then walked over to the university auditorium to hear Vice President Humphrey. He quite captured my heart and soul with the tremendous speech he gave on Mexican‑American issues. After the speech I drove downtown, had lunch, and then went over to the Cortez Hotel to present my paper on ways to resolve the land grant issue in a session chaired by Vincente Ximenez. My paper was well received. Attended other sessions until five. I encountered Junio Lopez and David Lujan from Las Vegas, New Mexico. I then went home for supper. My son, David, asked if he could accompany me to the evening debate on my recommendations. They were hotly contested by several Anglo‑American legislators from New Mexico but, much to my delight, they were approved.
The next morning David went with me to the conference. We listened to presentations on Mexican‑American problems for several hours. Buses came by in the middle of the deliberations and David and I rode with the crowd to the Airport Hilton to hear the Presidents of Mexico and the United States. With my admission to the conference prominently on my coat, David and I walked to the hotel. Much to my surprise, David was denied admission by secret servicemen because he did not have an admission plaque. Protesting strongly, I pointed out that some entire Chicano families were entering the auditorium. I left David to find Senator Yarborough or someone else to override the arrogant, brutal secret service agents when David walked up to me. A Mexican‑American family, observing the scene, put him in their midst and brought him in.
President Johnson gave a warmly‑received speech praising the Mexican‑American people and telling what his administration would do for them. Then he asked for Senator Yarborough, who was not there. It turned out that the bus bringing Yarborough and his entourage, driven by an aid of Governor Connelly, deliberately broke down on the far side of the airport and never did arrive. The President then introduced Governor Connelly, who was so persistently and enthusiastically booed by the Mexican‑American audience that he was unable to speak. Then President Ortiz of Mexico spoke, praising both President Johnson and Senator Yarborough. His speech ended with a delicate negative comment about Governor Connelly.
That night I marched in a demonstration along with Ernesto Galarza and Bert Corona from the site of the conference to the Sacred Heart Gymnasium for the counter‑conference. Galarza, Tijerina and other speakers spoke. The hall swarmed with secret service agents, F.B.I. personnel‑‑some of whom were photographing everyone on the speaker's platform or in the audience. The next day, as I finished my classes, a newspaper reporter asked me why Governor Connelly had been so booed by the Mexican‑Americans. I replied without thinking that the Mexican‑Americans simply did not like him, among other things. My comments were published throughout Texas. Retaliation came almost immediately.
On November 15 the president of the University, Joseph M. Ray, called me to his office. Dr. Ray mentioned that the mayor of El Paso, Dr. Judson Williams, Frank Erwin (the chairman of the Regents of the University of Texas System), Governor Connelly, Ralph Yarborough, and state senator Joe Christy wanted me fired. Dr. Ray asked for a chronological account of all my New Mexico activities.
I wrote out such a statement. President Ray called the governor's office in New Mexico, who supported my statement that the governor's office in Santa Fe had asked me to come to New Mexico. President Ray later wrote to me that the conservative forces in El Paso were using me as a handy weapon to force him out of office. They wanted to replace him with the incredible El Paso mayor, Judson Williams. The next day I called a number of Mexican‑American leaders around the Southwest and generated a blizzard of letters protesting my possible firing to President Ray and to the Chancellor's office.
By November 30 news of the state investigation into my New Mexican activities leaked into the New Mexican and Texas press. The Chancellor's office of the University of Texas System stated that my New Mexican activities were being investigated at the bequest of people in the New Mexico state government. The governor's office in Santa Fe, when queried about the request, said that they knew all about my activities and could not understand the reasons for the controversy. For almost ten days my name was in the headlines of the El Paso papers. I played it very cool, stating that I had confidence in the Chancellor's office and in the Board of Regents, even though I privately believed them to be scoundrels. The investigation gradually ebbed and no charges were ever brought against me. But President Ray told me that no other university would hire me even though at the moment I had job offers from Brigham Young University and the University of Utah in my pocket. More to the point, he told me that it would be doubtful if I ever received another salary increase at the University of Texas at El Paso.
The level of abuse against me and my family sharply increased. W.H. Hooten, the editor of the Green Sheet, accused me of being a supporter of North Vietnam. The charge of being a Communist or a supporter of Communist movements echoed in other publications and on the radio. My son, David was verbally abused for being my son. A similar attack was inflicted upon another son, Daniel, at a track meet.
On November 1 I was subpoenaed to appear as a defense witness for Reies Tijerina and other Alianza members on trial for assaulting forest rangers, converting government property to private use, and conspiracy to violate the law in federal Judge Howard C. Bratton's court in Las Cruces. Governor David F. Cargo first testified on the opening day of the trial. He pointed out that the people of northern New Mexico viewed the government as being a natural antagonist who never helps them out. I followed Governor Cargo to the witness stand and testified about socioeconomic conditions and the land issue. District Attorney John Quinn and Jack Love, Assistant U.S. Attorney, were permitted by the judge to try to bully me, but I fired right back at them. For fifteen days I drove to Las Cruces right after my classes to attend the trial. On November 12 Reies L. Tijerina, his brother Christobal, Alfonso Chavez, Ezequiel Dominguez, and Jerry Noll were found guilty of assaulting federal rangers and converting government property to private use. The jury was hung up on the conspiracy charge.
My parents were planning to spend the Christmas season with us, but on December 8 my father called me to say that my mother, who was 79, had died suddenly from a massive embolism in the lungs. I called Ruth and left the school. I had just arrived home when a local newspaper called to inquire about my mother's death. Much to my surprise both El Paso papers carried the obituary on their front pages. We were on the road by noon. My heart was heavy during our drive through New Mexico. My thoughts would circle first around my mother, then around the Alianza, and then on our situation in El Paso. We did not hit snow until above Gallup. Stopping for the night in Cortez, we purchased snow tires and went into Salt Lake City over snowy, dangerous roads. We stayed in my parents' home. Before and after my mother's funeral on December 15 I had many long talks with my father about his life, his marriage, and his family. He looked so terribly vulnerable that I made up my mind to accept the offered position at the University of Utah. Because of blizzards, we were unable to leave Salt Lake City for over ten days. Finally, on January 2, we were able to get away. The road was covered with patches of black ice all the way to Monticello. In Monticello itself the snow was almost up to the rooftops. We traveled behind snow plows in a caravan of cars from Monticello to Cortez. Finally, on January 27, we arrived in El Paso late at night, glad to be home. The next morning I discovered that my situation at UTEP had not improved. I was ordered by President Ray to keep a very low profile, which was not always possible given the interest of the press in my activities and the court trials in New Mexico.
The year 1968 was, for me, a year of trauma, regrets and pain. As a result, in part, of the events of 1967, we decided to leave El Paso. By so doing I left the Southwest‑‑something that I felt could never happen. Moving for me was a trail of tears that never completely ceased to fall. Why did I leave? The answer is very complex. My father was a major reason. Living alone as a widower, I felt that he needed my support. I wanted my children to know their grandparents better. My growing alienation from the dominant, conservative, almost reactionary element in the El Paso Mormon community was another. I did not want to be driven into inactivity. Furthermore, I had been grimly assured by President Ray of the University of Texas that I was persona non grata to the reactionary, authoritarian Board of Regents and Chancellor's Office of the University of Texas System and could expect little favor at their hands. I would have enjoyed the struggle with them, as I was not devoid of arms, but I could not sacrifice my family. And, finally, I could perhaps more effectively carry on my activities in New Mexico from a protected base in Utah than from an imperiled one in El Paso. Nonetheless, I paid a heavy price. I was one of the founders of the Borderlands Studies Program and had to leave it in other hands. I also had to drop out of the fight for bilingual education, anti‑poverty programs, and of the Chicano movement in the Southwest.
The political situation in northern New Mexico at the beginning of 1968 was dark and stormy. On January 2, 1968, Elogio Salazar, Rio Arriba County jailor, was brutally beaten to death in Tierra Amarilla, the county seat of Rio Arriba County. The state press exploded in outrage. The Alianza leadership was swiftly jailed, convicted of the crime by popular Anglo‑American sentiment. State and local law enforcement agencies professedly began a wide‑spread manhunt, their mouths sealed by a gag order from Judge Angel of San Miguel County. The killers were never found. Within a few days the Alianza defendants were released from jail by order of the state Supreme Court.
The entire matter still remains shrouded in mystery and many questions unanswered. Among them are the following: (1) If Elogio Salazar was such an important state witness, why did he not receive police protection in a region of growing political and ethnic tensions? (2) Why was the hunt for the killer or killers so swiftly called off? (3) Who sent the numerous private Anglo‑American and Spanish‑American investigators into Rio Arriba to investigate the killing and why were their findings kept quiet? And (4) What about Elogio Salazar's background? Were there other groups besides the Alianza that might have had reasons to kill him?
Several months after the Salazar murder a former Bernalillo County deputy sheriff named William Fellion lost his right hand and part of his right arm while placing a dynamite bomb against the wall of the Albuquerque headquarters of the Alianza. To my knowledge, he was never arrested by the Albuquerque police, although they had full knowledge of the affair. Rifle bullets were fired into the Alianza building and cars parked in front of the building were vandalized. Threats were made against the leaders and members of the Alianza. Much later, when Reies was in jail, his wife was raped and several young children brutalized by members of the Albuquerque Police Department.
All through 1968 the war in New Mexico swirled on around the Alianza and the events of 1967. Battles rumbled and roared, dying down infrequently, only to break out in renewed ferocity. Having been ordered by the university administration to keep my mouth shut, I tried to remain on the sidelines as a spectator, but this proved impossible to do. Shot and shell were constantly lobbed over the border in my direction. I returned the fire with interest. I skirmished steadily in support of my assaulted friends. Even in Utah I could not keep out of the line of fire. One of the fascinating aspects of life in New Mexico is the way that these terrific intellectual wars constantly break out with exalted, impassioned rhetoric. The fury to an outsider must resort in mayhem and slaughter. There are casualties but, suddenly, the fighting dies down when exhaustion overtakes the combatants.
Toward the end of January my good friend and ally, Father Robert Garcia, was forced by Governor Cargo (himself under fire) to resign from his position as director of the State Office of Employment Security. One investigation after another examined his records without any derogatory findings. Finally, accused of sympathy with the Alianza, he was forced out of New Mexico. Before leaving the state for an O.E.O. position in Austin, he abandoned the Catholic priesthood, marrying Linda Lee Burnside of Oakland, California, mother of two boys and stepdaughter of a prominent Santa Fe businessman, Steward Hatch.
In the spring of 1968 I came under increasing attack from the John Birch Society throughout the Southwest. Although I had learned of the presence of a John Birch element in the Mormon church, grouped presumably around a Mormon dentist, I now had confirmation of their presence by a movement within the church to besmirch my character. The poisonous rumors and accusations emanating from the John Birch Society not only influenced the attitudes of conservative business and political elites in El Paso, but they added to the general Anglo hostility aroused by my efforts to develop anti‑poverty programs and to organize poor Mexican‑Americans. As the John Birch accusations were so simplistic, so paranoid, and so incredibly stupid, I was able to escape their entrapments with ease. The presence of an intelligence source deep within the bosom of the John Birch Society was of great assistance.
The wife of a prominent, wealthy John Birch leader had taken classes at the University of Texas in El Paso, including several of my own. A woman about my own age, she often came into my office to talk about course work, politics, books, etc. She told me that she grew up in a very poor family, struggling to exist on a small farm in east Texas. Learning that she was physically attractive, she managed to get to the University of Texas with the avowed object of securing a wealthy husband. Although successful in this endeavor, she never quite lost her identification with the poor. She got into the habit of calling me late at night or early in the morning, after a few drinks, to ask what I thought about the latest John Birch rumor, such as the presence of armies of Communists in northern New Mexico, or to convey information about John Birch plots against me, my friends, or the anti‑poverty programs with which I worked.
Armed with this intelligence, I enjoyed the game of wits with the John Birchers and other conservative elements who now began to send students into my classes to tape record my lectures. They also tapped my telephone and tried to infiltrate organizations with which I was identified. At times it was not easy to separate these infiltrators from police and F.B.I. informants. For reasons I did not clearly understand, law enforcement agencies from the F.B.I. down to the local level were extremely nervous about any kind of Mexican‑American protest movement.
Knowing that I might be leaving El Paso, I redoubled my efforts to develop strong, viable Mexican‑American organizations in the community and at the university. I lectured to many LULAC and G.I. Forum groups about the need to provide leadership to the Mexican‑American community and to be especially protective and supportive of the poor and of recent Mexican immigrants. On campus I assisted a group of Mexican‑American students to form a student organization under the name of NOMAS which, within several months, became one of the most active and influential student organizations on campus.
Because of the war raging in New Mexico, I did very little consulting in that state. During the spring of 1968 my good friend, Marion Cline, and I were employed as field investigators by the Southwest Educational Laboratory in Austin to investigate the utilization of migrant labor funds by several school districts in Texas. We first went to Lockhart, Texas. I was shocked to find migrant labor funds used to hire the non‑Spanish speaking wives and daughters as teacher aids in classes of migrant children, who spoke no English. On the other hand, we did visit bilingual migrant schools that seemed to be improving educational opportunities for migrant farm worker children. The schools met six days a week, with longer school days than the average school. They were trying to provide nine months of education in five to six months. I noted that morale was high among the teaching staff that was often predominantly Mexican‑American.
I visited the Zavala Elementary School in Austin in a Chicano barrio and was even more shocked. The children marched through the halls in military formation with talking prohibited from one class to another. In the first grade the children were exuberant and teachers happy. In the fifth grade the teacher sat at her desk surrounded by a small group of English‑speaking students with whom she was interacting. The rest of the classroom was occupied by bored Spanish‑speaking students who were there because they had to be. Very little learning was taking place.
I deeply enjoyed my work with migrant farm workers and with the directors of diverse migrant and community action programs in south Texas. I learned much about the incredible mistreatment of the Mexican‑American people by local Anglo‑American law enforcement agencies and by the Texas Rangers. Among the many friends I made, three stand out: Antonio Tinajero, a union organizer; Jeffrey Franks, director of the Adult Migrant Education Project in Edinburg; and Reverend Ed Krueger, a member of the migrant ministry assigned to south Texas by the U.S. Council of Churches.
Ed told me about his experiences in working with the Migrant Farm Workers' Union in the Lower Rio Grande Valley. During the efforts to organize strikes and marches, he was picked up by a notorious captain in the Texas Rangers. The Rangers beat him up thoroughly. They then tied him across a railroad track with the promise that unless he agreed to leave Texas they would leave him to die from an approaching train. He refused to leave. Just before the train reached him they cut him loose, thoroughly beat him up again, and dumped him in Arkansas, just over the state line. The Texas Council of Churches refused to enter the case. The U.S. Council of Churches investigated and sponsored a suit against the Rangers for civil rights violation but, as I recall, nothing ever came of the suit.
Toward the end of January I received a letter from Ted Smith, offering me the position of part‑time director of the Center for the Study of Social Problems and part‑time position in the Department of Sociology. I could not receive tenure as part of the conditions of my employment, but would have to go through the regular tenure process. I hesitated about accepting the position. However, my hand was forced. Ruth and I discussed moving to Salt Lake City with our boys. They all, except David, favored the move. So, in a sudden decision, I wrote to Ted and told him I accepted the position.
The University of Utah Board of Regents did not approve the new appointments until March. I did not resign my position at UTEP nor inform anyone of my acceptance of a new position until my hand was forced on March 12, when my father called to inform me that the news of my approval, along with other new faculty members, appeared in the Deseret News. I had just hung up the phone when I received a call from a local newswire service asking me if it were true that I had accepted a position at the University of Utah. I then hastily wrote a letter to President Ray requesting a year's leave of absence without compensation. Within several hours my office was inundated by Mexican‑American students and leaders begging me not to go. I broke down into tears. Their requests devastated me emotionally.
Shortly after this I learned that President Ray had resigned his position. I was told that he had been fired for not firing me. Later I learned that this was not true. The conservative group of influential people in El Paso grouped around Mayor Williams, forced Ray out of office in the hope of replacing him with Mayor Williams. The idea collapsed. Williams tried to visit our campus but Mexican‑American students, blaming him correctly for my leaving, rioted and attacked his car. He required police protection to leave the campus and did not visit it again.
Effective end of the spring semester, I resigned my position as department chairman. Winfield Stegleich from Texas Tech was hired as my replacement. His brief stay at the university was marked by severe difficulties with Mexican‑American students (for which I was unjustly blamed) and savage turmoil within the department. One of my last acts as department chairman was to hire Karl Kraenzel from Montana and a former Jesuit priest, Patrick J. McNamara.
During the spring quarter Leonard Jiron, president of NOMAS, came into my office with surprising news. The Mexican‑American high school students at Sierra Blanca, not far from El Paso, had gone on strike. An Anglo‑American principal had beaten a Mexican‑American girl with a strap across her back for speaking Spanish during the school day. He had hit her hard enough to cut into the flesh. The students then walked out, demanding the firing of the principal and three prejudiced Anglo‑American teachers, and the hiring of Mexican‑American teachers. Apparently the high school was about fifty percent Mexican‑American. The parents supported the strike. Students and parents contacted NOMAS and PASO. We sent both mediators and a group to support the strike. The principal had a record of beating Mexican‑American students and refusing to physically punish Anglo‑American students. The strike was successful.
Jiron and I discussed the organization of a Mexican‑American student conference in El Paso, to be sponsored by NOMAS in late April. We were able to invite Father Casso, Ralph Guzman and Reies Tijerina to speak. A number of panels, including one on which I served, were organized to discuss various aspects of the current situation of Mexican‑American college students and people in the United States. Joe Rubio and Abelardo Delgado were on my panel. Reies spoke with vitality and charisma. He had become a hero to Mexican‑American youth across the United States.
Reies left El Paso after the conference and was arrested, jailed and bailed out over the weekend in New Mexico. The incredible Alfonso Sanchez, district attorney of Rio Arriba County, had called a grand jury and reinstated virtually all of the original capital charges against Reies Tijerina. Apparently double jeopardy had little meaning in New Mexico.
The American Association for the Advancement of Science, Rocky Mountain and Southwestern Divisions, met in El Paso on April 30 and May 1. During the year I had developed three sessions‑‑one in sociology, one on Mexican‑American studies, and the third on international water along the border for the Committee on Desert and Arid Zones Research. For nine months I had tried hard to pull together a program on water law involving contributions from the Inter‑Boundary Commission, the Secretaria de Recursion Hidraulicos de Mexico, and the State Engineers Office of Santa Fe. The papers delivered in both Spanish and English with a summary in the other language were published later in the Codazar series.
On May 11 I flew to Norman, Oklahoma, to participate in a Vista training program at the University of Oklahoma, my second visit to the training center in 1968. I spoke to the trainees about Mexican‑American unrest in the Southwest and the Alianza movement in New Mexico. While there I talked to several Indian students from diverse tribes in Oklahoma who mentioned the growing importance of tribal identity. I urged them to learn their tribal languages, their tribal histories, and to develop a commitment to their own people. From Norman I went on the Denver and to the Loretto Academy to participate in the meetings of the Rocky Mountain Social Science Association. I attended my last executive council meeting. I was delighted in the growth of the membership, in the development of an excellent scholarly journal, and in the prosperous financial condition of the society. It has come a long way since the 1950s.
Shortly after the spring semester ended, Ruth and I loaded a 14‑foot trailer with books and files and on June 29th started for Salt Lake City. The trip lasted three days and was a harrowing experience. I could drive no more than 35 miles an hour safely. We left David with the Dinsmoors. In Salt Lake City we deposited the books and files in my father's basement and began house hunting. For ten days we hunted for an unfurnished house through almost every neighborhood before finally finding one at 2591 Lynwood Drive, almost at the mouth of Parley's Canyon. After signing the rental agreement we drove back to El Paso, leaving Daniel with my sister, Jerry. Ruth's parents came with us to help us move. I spent a good part of the summer bringing our old house up to standards with new rugs, new paint job, etc. I really hated to leave it.
During the summer I was able to make enough money to refurbish the house and to pay for moving expenses through consulting jobs. On July 5 I flew to Denver to participate in a two‑day presentation on Mexican‑Americans and poverty to teachers attending a summer Institute for Adult Basic Education, sponsored by the Bureau of Class Instruction and the Extension Division of the University of Colorado. Vincent J. Amanna, project director, asked me to discuss urban poverty and the impact of urban poverty upon learning and education. Then, on July 15, I returned to lecture to another group of teachers.
Returning home I barely got some painting finished when I traveled to the Catholic University in Austin to again discuss Tijerina and the Alianza in New Mexico to another group of Vista trainees. I enjoyed several long talks with Bill Hale, Director of Training. Returning home to El Paso I realized that consulting fees had brought me some $2,500 for the summer.
And, finally, on August 5 I went to Denver to speak to the teachers at a teacher preparation period before the beginning of school. Manuel Andrade, from the Denver School District Office, met me at the airport. At first he was very formal, but when I began to speak Spanish he became very friendly. He told me that in spite of the rapidly‑growing Spanish‑American, Mexican‑American student enrollment in the Denver school system, there were virtually no Mexican‑American principals or counselors and only about 20 teachers in the entire school system. The next day I was taken to a school in a Spanish‑American barrio and lectured on the importance of bilingual education, appreciation and knowledge of Mexican‑American/Spanish‑American values, history and culture, and the impact of poverty upon the learning environment of Mexican‑American children.
After the completion of the summer semester, we cleaned our house thoroughly and literally cleaned each room as the Rogers, our renters, moved in. Finally, on August 31, 1968 we left. I was quite shocked at the All The Kings Men moving company. They had promised us that the move would cost us no more than $1,500, but upon weighing the van they charged us $2,500. I tried to find a manager or executive to complain to, but no one assumed any responsibility. In our experience, moving companies are a collection of thieves.
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