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A Proud Daughter of a Mexican Worker magda ramírez-castañeda The War on the Streets Around 1969, Father Colleran invited me to a small gathering of workers, mostly parishioners from Saint Vitus in the Pilsen community.1 The pastor helped get the group together. Pablo Torres was the main organizer. He later became president. His wife attended, but most of the people in the circle were men. Father Colleran was always promoting me. He arranged for me to be the speaker at several Catholic high-school-commencement ceremonies because he thought I was a good role model for young Mexican women. He believed I could inspire more of them to get involved. Father Colleran thought it made sense for me to be at those meetings because of my interest in labor justice and my position with the Fair Employment Practices Commission. Although I was a woman, I was well received because I was a student. Mexicans place a high value on education. At the time, they saw college students as people acquiring a great deal of knowledge who in the future might be teachers or other types of professionals. In Mexico, licenciados (persons who have a formal degree) are accorded a great deal of respect. In the early 1970s, we began to discuss discriminatory hiring at places like the post office and the CTA.2 APO sent letters and made phone calls requesting meetings with CTA officials but received little response. We wanted CTA to hire Mexican workers across all job classifications. The CTA was receiving millions of dollars in federal funds and was supposed to have a racially balanced work force, but they refused to be held accountable. i-xxx_1-226_Rami.indd 137 8/19/11 10:55 AM 138 . magda ramírez-castañeda The first community demonstration APO sponsored around the CTA issue was small. There were twelve people arrested, mostly nuns and priests. The second demonstration was larger. However, the third demonstration was attended by well over five hundred people.3 We formed a picket line at 18th and Ashland, a major bus route that ran through the community. Police insisted that we stay on the sidewalk and not block traffic. They harassed the demonstrators, prodding and pushing folks even though we marshals were trying our best to keep everyone moving and not obstruct traffic. It was the cops that incited the crowd with their rudeness and aggressive behavior. Police began to arrest people for not moving fast enough. A cop grabbed my arm to take me away, but a group of people pulled me back. I bit another cop when he attempted to grab me, but with the help of the crowd, I was able to escape. Others were not so fortunate, and those arrested were treated brutally. We marched down 18th Street to Loomis and Blue Island, where the three streets meet. It is the major Pilsen intersection and a place where several bus lines come together. We sat down in the middle of the intersection. Our plan was not to disrupt traffic on Ashland, but we had planned to sit down and block traffic on Blue Island. People chanted, “¿Qué queremos? ¡Trabajo! ¿Cuándo? ¡Ahora!” (What do we want? Jobs! When? Now!). Other people took over buses. We asked riders to please get off because we were not going to allow the CTA to come through the community if it was not going to hire Mexicans. The cops attacked the demonstration violently. They began beating people, wading into the crowd, swinging their clubs wildly, trying to move people sitting in the street a macanazos (with nightsticks). I saw Felipe Aguirre standing in the middle of the crowd blocking the intersection. He stood like a flag, his raised fist waving in the air. The cops beat him viciously with their batons, all over his body. They wouldn’t stop, and he just stood there like a standard, refusing to be brought down by their billy clubs. Those in the demonstration were singing, “Estamos unidos, no nos moverán” (We are united, we shall not be moved!). Many people were hurt. Blood ran down faces. More arrests were made. At some point, young people began to throw rocks, cans, even eggs at the cops, anything they could get their hands on. Missiles were flying through the air from every direction. We marched back down 18th Street to Harrison Park. People chanted, “¡Alto!¡Alto! ¡Alto! . . . ¡Alto a la Discriminación!” (Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop...

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