ICE Kills Again

When I heard about the ICE shooting of Lorenzo Salgado Araujo in Houston I was reminded of the time I moved there to do construction work. It was November 1980, and I was hoping to get some experience so I could move back north to qualify for union membership at much higher pay. 

I was hired by Joe Swartz Electric, Houston's largest residential electrical contractor, to wire houses for $5 per hour. It was backbreaking work, "production," as speed was of the essence. The houses were pretty flimsy, built on the Houston flood plain, easily damaged by the many storms that plague Houston. 

The building trades were divided by ethnicity, with "whites" doing the premier skilled work of carpentry, electrical wiring and plumbing, Latinos - Mexicans primarily, doing drywall, bricklaying (done in precast panels), roofing, and African-Americans doing cleanup. 

I was living in the Siddha Yoga ashram, which was on Garrott St., in the Montrose, Houston's gay neighborhood. When my fellow workers found out where I lived, life became dangerous. I couldn't say "I'm not gay, I'm following a guru," so I ended up quitting before getting beat up. I lost the job for being gay without being gay, another weird episode in my long, strange life.

At lunchtime various crews would congregate to eat together, and it soon became clear that the prejudice against Mexicans was intense. One guy, who apparently had recently been released from "Huntsville state prison," turned to another guy and said "Billy Bob (or some such), I just about hate a Mexican worse than I do a nigger!" It was for my benefit, having moved there from Michigan. I just laughed, which didn't please him. He also said to another guy, who had an Italian last name, "I hear you're a pretty good swimmer," meaning a wetback. 

In the middle of the same lunch session a 6 foot 5 or so chiseled Mexican-American mix guy showed up, and came straight to me, stuck out his hand, called me by name and said in a hard Texas drawl, "My name's Natividad!" Then he left. So classic. I remember it like it was today. The posturing tough guy, along with his buddies, cowered in silence. I never saw Natividad again. I wonder how his life went.

There was another guy at Joe Swartz just out of Huntsville, tied for the worst human being I have ever known. He told me the day we were sent out to do post-installation work "We have the Nazis and Klan down here to take care of things like that (black exercise of citizenship)." He likely ended up back in prison for good. His last name was Alexander, don't remember the first, in case you are curious enough to Google him. I tried, couldn't find anything. Law enforcement in Houston certainly has records of his life of crime.

Houston would be a ripe place for ICE recruits, and likely many of them are indeed native Houstonites. Huntsville also would be a ripe place for ICE recruits.

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Here's a song. Bob Dylan and Joan Baez. Bruce Springsteen. The Grateful Dead. The Doors. Another song from Bruce Springsteen. Still another from Bruce Springsteen. Live version. A message to ICE from Ireland. Carsie Blanton. Ben Grosscup. Lucinda Williams. Crowes Pasture. Mon Rovia. Mavis Staples, Kevin Morby, Nathaniel Rateliff and the Night Sweats.

Witnesses have a different story than ICE about the shooting. Witnesses always have a different story than ICE.