The Morning Crowd

NEWS Wednesday, April 11, 2012 | sierrasun.com | 5

They move with an inaudiblesway that comes from footstepsunnoticed and repeating. The

repetitions pace against dawn, into athaw of dirty streets and the flicker oflamplight.

Like birds in sudden migration, orships starting in a dim tide, theirdeparture is of no report. Just distantshadows marching before light, mak-ing quiet passage through tiredstreets, paint-chipped homes and theneighborhood’s labyrinth of warpedfencing.

The morning works itself into theroil of engines and scraping of tires. Acold sun emerges and the shadowsreveal themselves, abruptly, in animage of torn jeans, a congregation ofbeaten tennis shoes and faded jackets.They are men with sweat-stainedsweaters and callused palms, palmsleading to finger nails, nails stillwedged with yesterday’s work.

This is the morning crowd. They areillegals, day workers, immigrants.

They are the unlicensed, the undoc-umented, the unnaturalized, a proces-sion of many names strolling sleepilythrough.

The day fills with a dry cold andthey go bundled down Coon Street,down Fox Street and along the down-town bordering Lake Tahoe. It is adivided march through Kings Beachwith the men moving in small bunchestoward a 7-Eleven that squats amongtrailer homes, old motels convertedinto apartments and, of course, thelake.

Within the group is a man with ablack sweater. His face is shadowedand unshaven. His eyes colored graylike ash, and yet they are bright. Deepwrinkles score the cheeks, cut awayfrom his eyes, traverse across theplateau of his forehead.

He is joined by the others as theynear the convenience store. The mentake positions: some huddling underthe eaves of the storefront, somestanding near a bus stop tattooed in

graffiti that emits the distinct smell ofurine.

Most opt to stand along the woodfencing, and the man with the shad-owed face moves away to the edge ofthe roadway, between the 7-Elevenand the bus stop, where work truckscome with güeros — white men offer-ing work — and so he waits.

To the sound of engines, to the smellof exhaust, to the rise of dust, theystand waiting, rocking on the balls oftheir feet and talking. I move inamong them, tucked into the hood ofmy green jacket, while the man withthe ash-colored eyes stares by thecurb.

“¿Qué onda, hermano?” — How areyou, brother? — one says to another,and he holds out his fist while theother raps it lightly with the knuckles,then again with the bottom and top ofhis fist. The second pounds the hand-shake back in turn. It is done to each,to me, one by one, a solidarity inknuckles and the clashing of hands.

“Maldita chiiiing---” one of themcusses. “Such cold! Such damn cold!”

The man who swears is small, aboutfour-foot something, dressed in a bluejacket with a hood pulled so taut hisface appears to swell. His jeans haveholes and his boots are torn.

He begins to swear again, butinstead ignites into a hacking succes-sion of coughs. He starts his swearagain, but again it is futile, and hisobscenities couple with hacks that det-onate into his bloody Kleenex.

“What happened to your shoes, her-mano, are they f---ed? Did you f---them up?” asks another man in abrown jacket.

“Yes, they’re f---ed!” says the smallone. He says his boots had been tear-ing for weeks, but then, only lastweek, they’d ripped away at theseams.

“¡Estan jodido, ciento por ciento chi-iing--!” he shouts.

He begins to swear again, but an-other attack seizes him and sends him

into a stomping spin near the store’sRedbox video machine. It’s a gyrationof hacking and obscenities that leaveshis tiny figure bent and grappling forhis tissues.

I introduce myself, and when I say“Soy un periodista” — that I’m a jour-nalist — it sends their eyes wide andstretches out a silence, and that is tosay a time where my claim is weighedand judged, first individually and thencollectively.

I explain again: I’m a reporter hereto ask questions, that I do not neednames, that I’m here to speak anony-mously, no reason for alarm, no hid-den secrets. Another short silence fol-lows, another short judgment, and it’sa judgment which holds until the smallone says “You mean to say from thenewspaper?”

“Of course, stupid; do see him hold-ing a video camera?” The man inbrown says this, and they laugh whilethe small man throws a few hopelessjabs at his stomach.

When the laughing quiets, theybegin in questions. What newspaperdo you work for? What’s your name?How long have you worked here?What type of article will you write?You live nearby? Can you put my smallfriend here in the paper? He’s verypopular, ha, ha, ha, a serious ladiesman, a real papi chulo, ha, ha, ha!

But the laughter and questions fade,and again there is silence, and thistime it sticks. The mood turns and Iknow I’ve broken a type of confidence,instilled a type of suspicion. The moodspills into the parking lot. Signs arefelt or given and one by one eachmoves away. They regroup along thelow row of fence posts or at the edgeof the roadway or collect by the busstop.

Across the parking lot, the man withthe ash-colored eyes stands watching,observing it all. This is it, I think,nothing more to do now, it’s over.

But it was not over. And in fact, itwas only beginning.

By Jason Shueh • Sierra Sun

THE MORNING CROWD

Jason Shueh

Photo by Jason ShuehTwo day workers chat during a lateNovember 2011 morning in Truckee.

To the soundof engines, tothe smell ofexhaust, to

the rise of dust, they

stand waiting,

rocking onthe balls of

their feet andtalking. Imove in

among them,tucked

into the hoodof my greenjacket, whilethe man with

the ash-colored eyes

stares by the curb.

It’s a process all routine andnatural, and in this way, Iwatched the morning go.

The others made clear therewould be no answering of ques-tions, and eventually I movedtoward the man who hadwatched by the curb. He was theonly one left now. I was revealed.The boundaries had formed.

He stood by a tree at the veryedge of the road in front of apuddle that had half frozen over.I made my way across the 7-Eleven parking lot with its darkcracks, its veined creases, until Istood next to him in a dirt mixedwith dead cigarettes, old Slurpy

straws and discarded receipts.I introduced myself as before.

He did not speak, but he did notwalk away, either. A twist of theneck, a quick glance and nodwas what I got. It was a kind ofmiddle ground.

I told him my name and heshook my hand without turning.

I saw him close now. “LosAngeles” was stitched into hissweater, but the “L” was tornout. Paint had crusted into thecloth — beiges, teals, auburns,off-whites. The colors dotted andslivered out, from sweater, tojeans, to sneakers. A hood andbeanie covered his head and the

The scene could be ritual, a type of stageplay, a season populated in a climate ofinteractions that are condensed into adaily happening. Viewed from the cardashboard or across the street, it’s a

scene marked like a man-made sacrament, a tradi-tion that comes out of necessity but without anychurch or doctrine. For there is a benedictionsounding in car horns, in rumbling engines. Andthere is a choir that blasts cumbia, reggaetón andthe trill of strumming mariachis crackling out ofrusty truck radios.

There is even a reverence by the jean-suited cler-gy: conversations turning to votive whisper, whis-pers turning to silence as a truck cab opens andwork is called out: “I need two to paint, I need oneto dig.” And for the chosen, the lucky, the Eucharistof labor comes with a bread made of worn muscleand a wine of spilt sweat.

THE MORNING CROWD — PART TWO

‘They feel strange with this’By Jason Shueh • Sierra Sun

SIERRA SUNOur 140th year, No. 93 | Serving Truckee, Tahoe City, and Kings Beach communities

WEEKEND EDITION: Friday, April 13, 2012 www.sierrasun.com Free

EDITOR’S NOTE:Toward the end of

2011, former Sierra Sunreporter Jason Shuehtook on his final assign-ment — an in-depth lookat the large day workerpopulation in Truckeeand North Lake Tahoe.Weeks of shadowing andinterviews in both Englishand Spanish with theworkers themselves, cou-pled with discussions withthe public figures whowork with the populationand with those who areresponsible for enforce-ment, revealed an emo-tional anecdote that goesbeyond your typicalnewspaper report.

It’s brash and, at times,vulgar. But it’s real. Andit’s a narrative worthtelling.

Our communitiesinclude a significant dayworker labor force, peo-ple who are responsiblefor many of the luxuriesafforded to so manylocals who call LakeTahoe and Truckee home.

This is their story, thesecond in a two-part,print-first series. Part Oneran in the Wednesday,April 11, edition; theentire package will beonline next week.

tips of his hair and mus-tache were whited.

“It is not to offend you,but they feel strange withthis, they don’t feel right,”were his first words.

“Even though you’renot lying, they don’tbelieve you. And youknow, we’re not playing.We are not playing be-cause if we are found,they’ll take us from here.They don’t wish to offendyou, but it is because theyare afraid of traps andused to traps, you under-stand? For this, they haveleft.”

When he spoke, theothers watched and whis-pered among themselves.They huddled and peeredfrom the fences andcurbs, until, at a distance,a voice and jeers cameout, “Carlos, Carlos,Carlos, you’re so good fortalking today, brother!”

But Carlos ignoredthem and continued.

“I am not playingaround here, you know, Idon’t play around for my-self and for my family’ssake,” he said. And withthis, it was clear a deci-sion to speak had beenmade.

Eight years ago, Carlossaid he’d been a mechan-ic in Mexico. He’d in-spected and done mainte-nance on Coca-Cola deliv-

See CROWD, page 4

Jason Shueh

Photo by Jason ShuehA group of day workers stands outside the 7-Eleven in Kings Beach during a chilly morning in late November 2011.

GROWING YEAR-ROUNDHigh-altitude, four-season growing ispossible by this state-of-the-art growdome, sponsored by Kelly BrothersPainting of Truckee. Its first harvestwas this week, with 15 pounds of foodbeing donated to Project MANA. Checkout the story in News, page 5

Photo by Jenell Schwab

THE STORM KINGJames P. Espy was the first U.S.government official meteorologist; heproduced America’s first weather maps.Note the lack of data from the Far West.Read the story on page 7

Courtesy David Ludlum collection

BASH BROSThe Truckee baseball team, which hasnow won 11 straight games, hammersout 37 runs in a doubleheader sweepagainst Whittell. Read about the gamesin Sports & Outdoors, page 15

NEWS4 | Friday, April 13, 2012 | sierrasun.com

ery trucks in a city he did not name but said wasfilled with shoe companies and companies of ex-port. But there was violence in the city and the paywas bad — 800 pesos, or $60, a week for himself,his wife and three kids.

Need forced him to the border, San Diego, LosAngeles, until he settled picking grapes in the vine-yards of Paso Robles. There, he said, he could notstay; for while the land owners paid well, super-markets and necessities were far away. Money wentto either transportation or back to the land owners,who offered basic goods in return for their wages.

In this way, Carlos said they were given enoughto survive — but not enough to live.

Carlos said he worked a season in the vineyardsuntil his wife’s brother called him to Lake Tahoe. It

was a promise of workand he went — any-thing to escape theheat of the grapes.And this time, he said,he came with luck.

Opportunity camewith restaurant workin Kings Beach. Hecooked at the restau-rant for five years,earned enough tobring his family overthe border. And thoughthe work was hard andthe hours long, thingswent well. Yet, not allthings are meant tolast, and when theGreat Recession hit,his job went with it,and before long, hisfamily, too.

“Everything I haveleft behind me; I havelived here seven years.My family was here fortwo. They had to re-turn and now I workto support them,” hesaid. “And if I mustmove tables, I movetables, if I must paint, Ipaint. Here, I pullweeds, chop wood,clear snow, move rock,haul trash, and if theywant me to dig a hole,I dig a hole.”

After he spoke, he paused, as if to let the wordstake root, then continued, his face still to the traffic.

“I know that the economy here is poor, I knowhow the community was before, how it is now, butin the country of mine, it’s worse. You have heardin the radio, through the television, how it is inMexico. Certainly you have heard there are peopleturning up dead, people killing people, crime, somuch crime,” he said. “I worry greatly for my fami-ly and it is a weight on me to be here, but I do whatI can.”

The wind picked up and the day rolled on. Ourconversation grew into many topics. Carlos told mehow there were many undocumented who lived inapartments with three or four men to a room, howthe foolish ones waste money on lottery tickets,alcohol or drugs, but the good ones, the best ones,work with a purpose, and most for their families.He said he could survive a week on a carton ofeggs, and said he once worked on four hours ofsleep a night for three days.

Carlos spoke while the others glared and whis-pered.

He didn’t care, and as the cars passed and thedark clouds began to thicken, suddenly his posturechanged, his voice grew quiet and his tone pitchedlow and serious.

“My daughter...” he said and stopped himself withhis fists balled tightly into his pockets.

“I could not…” he began and stopped again. I waited for him to finish, but Carlos only inhaled

deeply and did not speak. Whatever he’d hoped tosay had halted in his throat. The moment went.

He took another breath, focused the darks of hispupils, then released a long sigh. It was gone. Timewent by. And when he had collected himself, hisface was deep and solemn.

“This is a good thing,” he said finally. “It is goodthat you listen because the people” — and he point-ed in gesture as if to signify the world — “theyalways keep talking.”

“We are notplayingbecause

if we arefound, they’lltake us from

here. Theydon’t wish to

offend you,but it is

because theyare afraid of

traps andused to

traps youunderstand?

For this, they have

left.”

CROWD, from page 1

THE MORNING CROWD — PART THREE‘How can we lead them to our friends?’

As the morning ebbs, Carlostalks easily about it. Everything, hesays, starts at about 6 a.m. or 7a.m., and if no job comes, thewaiting goes until 12. In winter orsummer, it is the same.

The owners at the 7-Eleven haveallowed them a place, he said, andfor this, most are grateful and re-spectful. The advantage to the spotis traffic visibility — this is magni-fied with only one road circling thelake.

“In these times we move a lot ofsnow from the roofs, in the drive-ways, in the yards,” Carlos said.“Some mornings it’s hard to wakeand everyone has their reasons.But I wake up, I think of my familyand leave trusting in God. Every-one asks things of God, and I alsoask.”

Movement among the workers issomewhat regulated, he said, if notby finance then by their own loyal-ties. Pick-up spots have informalgroup leaders, and those enteringa work spot — whether at theKings Beach 7-Eleven, at Truckee’sdowntown Beacon lot or elsewhere— can expect difficulties, not inviolence, but in questions andmaneuverings.

“I have been to Truckee, andwhat happens is I arrive and theyask me ‘Who are you? What areyou doing? Where do you comefrom?’ In Truckee they ask manyquestions,” said Carlos.

“If you come from Nevada, theyask ‘Why did you come from Ne-vada?’ And if you come from KingsBeach, they ask ‘Why did youcome from Kings Beach?’ And youknow what it is? It’s jealousy.There is so much jealousy — thereand here, too,” said Carlos, rub-

bing his foot into the gravel.“We all want work. If I earn $70

in a day, I can send perhaps $50home, and this will be somethinglike 700 pesos. My family can liveon that, and they’ll be able to eatfor a week,” he said.

Yet, lack of work is nothing com-pared to the danger of summers.Immigration operations usuallyoccur twice in the season, Carlossaid. U.S. Immigration and Cus-toms Enforcement officers comeup in white vans to the 7-Eleven.Officers jump out and everyonescatters, with men running andhiding wherever they can, he said.A phone tree alerts illegals in theneighborhood. But the unlucky aregrabbed. Usually they’ll be offereda chance to collect belongings, butsince most live four or five men toa room, this is impossible.

“How can we lead them to ourfriends?” Carlos asks.

The only advantage they have isthe lake and the snow, he pointsout. The lake creates distancebetween Sacramento, and thesnow halts traffic. Together, theyform a persuasive deterrent, hesaid.

Carlos’ explanation is interrupt-ed by the sun. The topography ofthe sky has changed.

For a slight moment above, theclouds begin to part. They floatdark and gray, go outward untilthey lather thin. The sun burnsthrough and light hits the parkinglot, glaring from car hoods, to win-dows, to hubcaps, to the polishedmetal of buildings. The reflectedconstellations shine from spot tospot, and for a brief instant, itlooks as if the light will stay.

Carlos squinted and gazed out

Who knows how long they’d been com-ing here, or the stories that had driv-en and left them here. All of it mightnever be known. But it doesn’t mat-ter. What can be known are the times

spent and gathered and lost here. Ask any of them.And if they speak truly, you will hear about the sum-mers when the work becomes ripe and the wages arefed out sometimes $10, $11 or even $12 an hour.These are the good times. But there are bad times also.

There are people who hire and don’t pay, people wholeave them stranded on the South Shore or farther.And, of course, you will hear about the horrors of win-ters and the hell they can bring, when the work freezesover and men are left desperate for months at a time.

across the street where a truck had pulledto the curb.

Against the fence, the small man in theblue jacket was still coughing into hisKleenex. His hacks could be heard faintlyfrom a distance, but the morning had dis-lodged something from him, and his coughhad lost all intensity. He talked to the manin the brown jacket, and I watched as theman gave him a small glass bottle coloredamber, like olive oil.

“Para la garganta” — For the throat —the man in brown grunted, loud enough tobe audible from the curb.

Carlos talked while cars, trucks, SUVsand mini vans entered and exited theparking lot. The 7-Eleven doors swungopen and closed. Business was quick.Occasionally, two or three of the day work-ers would vanish inside with paper cups,emerge cradling 99 cent coffee refills andchatting.

Customers avoided the day workers. Butthere were flashes when the constraints oftime and space made this physically im-possible. When this occurred, facial ex-pressions fluctuated between awkwardreluctance and indifference.

The customers pretended not to noticethem and in turn the day workers pre-tended not to notice their pretending. Itwas a trade.

Carlos paid little attention to all of it andkept his focus doggedly to the street. Itwasn’t until a silver Volvo sedan drove upthat his attention turned. The car parkedand a man exited, talking on his Black-berry. He wore thin glasses, khaki pants,an argyle sweater with a collared shirtsticking out. His brown hair was combedover and his voice was high and pitched.

The man shut his door and walkedaround to open the passenger door acrack.

His head tilted into his phone, and hisnasal voice undulated without pause.Pointing his nose to the pavement he didnot wait for the car door to open, butimmediately swiveled and made a line forthe entrance.

However, he was cut short. Two dayworkers were strolling out, coffee in hand.He was oblivious and startled when hisdownward gaze hit their tennis shoes.Immediately his conversation stopped.

He arched himself backward like a pen-dulum and his face looked as if he wastripping yet forced to smile simultaneously.

The result was comical.“Excuse me! Uh, pardon, pardon me,

pardon me,” he said, attempting to getaround. The day workers parted, smiled ateach other, continued sipping their coffeesand walked on.

Carlos did not distract himself for allthis. His attention was drawn only when asmall girl opened the Volvo’s passenger

See PART III, page 5

Photo by Jason ShuehSome days, the crowd at the Kings Beach 7-Eleven is large, depending on the amount of work available thatday.

NEWS Friday, April 13, 2012 | sierrasun.com | 5

door. She couldn’t have been more than 10. She worejeans and a thick, tan coat with a fur trim around thehood. Her small hands pushed the car door open andshe hopped out squinting.

Carlos watched as she took small steps toward the con-venience store, watched as she felt the weight of the glassdoor on her palms, watched as she pushed and entered.

Carlos stared with what seemed to be awe and a kindof distance. He hid his hands into the hollows of hispockets and looked down at the dirt, gazing at nothing.

Traffic swirled in all directions, horns blasted andbrakes squealed. Conversations rose and fell in muffledvibrations and the wind passed shrill through the pines.The din roared, but Carlos appeared to hear nothing.

Something was wash-ing ashore, a sub-merged mass suddenlyrising up. And yet fromCarlos there was onlysilence. I waited, andstill silence. Some emo-tion, some thought waswelling in him, some-thing turning visible,stark — clear.

“My daughter...” hesaid at last, and hisvoice trembled deeply.

“I could not see herfirst communion. Icould not see soccergames with my son. Orspend time with mywife. I know I am all

they have, and must provide for them. But…” he said,and his voice grew thick and his eyes, once tired anddark, shined glassy and translucent.

“It is so difficult. Just yesterday I talked with mydaughter — she will be 8 soon — and it was hard tohear her cry. She cried and cried and cried because shemissed me, because she wished that I could be therewith her and, and, I cannot,” Carlos said.

“I don’t have money. I know that if I leave I will notcome back, and what will happen to my family then?”he said.

Carlos inhaled and sighed and then inhaled oncemore.

“No! I’m not playing around,” he said firmly. “I amnot fighting here for myself, and this is the truth.”

He did not say anything more for a long time. Theman with the argyle sweater left the store followed bythe girl, and we watched them together as the Volvobacked up slowly, stopped and drove out of the parkinglot down North Lake Boulevard. Above, the clouds re-turned to gray and the sun vanished.

The morning had dissipated into afternoon, and Icould feel a cold entering from the lake.

I remembered the weather report said it might snow.“Carlos! Carlos! Carlos! ¡Que Hablador-r-r-r!” shouted

the man with the brown jacket. “Oh! How you talk!” hesaid from the curb. The whispers had erupted intoquestions now. And the questions had ignited into anervous agitation. The group was unsteady.

“Do you want to be famous, compadre?” The man inbrown went on with the others. “Do you want us to befamous? I hope you know what you speak, hermano!”

Carlos looked tired and annoyed. He silenced themwith a loud hissing sigh.

“Calm yourselves, be calm — he is not here for that.You’re overly worried. Does he look like one of them?”he said, then stared back with his brow lowered.

Silence. The group hesitated and returned to theirwhispers; meanwhile, the sky had blackened, and thefirst drops of rain began to fall.

We stood together for a time more. He talked abouthis family and about his hope to get back to a restau-rant and steady pay. For a handful of minutes, our talkwent on. But the weather had turned and the morningwas gone.

I thanked Carlos for his time. We shook hands and hethanked me again.

“Even though you might not believe it, this is a goodthing,” he said in parting.

I nodded and crossed the street. The texture of lifewent on. Traffic fired from the intersection. The rainmixed itself into snow, locomotion sifted and spilled.

I looked back and saw Carlos still waiting at the curb.A crack of exhaust struck the air. A horn blared. Ashout of wheels screeched. But Carlos did not move,and it was there I left him with his hands slung into hispockets, sliding his feet in the dirt imperceptibly, unre-markably, and yet, in a way, so very human.

— Jason Shueh left the Sierra Sun in early 2012 fora job as a reporter with the Greeley Tribune in Greeley,Colo., a sister paper of the Sierra Sun; both are owned

and operated by Swift Communications. He can bereached for comment at [email protected].

“If I earn $70 in a day, I cansend perhaps$50 home, andthis will besomething like700 pesos. My family can liveon that, andthey’ll be able toeat for a week.”

PART III, from page 4

Photo by Jenell SchwabBill Kelly of Kelly Brothers Painting, Stephanie Bloom of Project MANA and food advocate Susie Sutphin enjoy thefruits (or in this case veggies) of their labor Tuesday at the grow dome near Glenshire. Kelly hopes the greenhousewill supply Project MANA with fresh, local, sustainably grown produce during all four seasons of the year.

Local group donatesfood grown in unique structure to Project MANA

By Jenell SchwabSierra Sun

TRUCKEE — ProjectMANA’s Stephanie Bloomand local food advocateSusie Sutphin talk aboutsalad spinners andclothes dryers as Sutphinhand-washes freshly-picked greens in a smallvat.

Bloom takes a leaf fromthe basin and holds it upto admire the colorationbefore eating it. Not onlywas the leaf sustainablygrown and spectacularlyverdant, but, judging bythe way Bloom quicklysnags a second helping, itwas also absolutely deli-cious.

This week’s harvestwas the first cutting froma garden grown in a geo-desic dome (a strong,rounded structure )greenhouse on a 20-acreproperty in the JuniperHills subdivision nearGlenshire. The 15 poundsof leafy green producewas donated to ProjectMANA for distribution atTuesday’s distribution inTruckee.

The project’s master-mind, Bill Kelly, of thefamily-owned KellyBrothers Painting inTruckee, says he hopesthe starter garden willblossom into a economi-cally viable, communityfarm with the ability toprovide year-round, sus-tainably and locallygrown produce to ProjectMANA and area resi-dents.

When the operationexpands, Kelly said, heplans to donate one unitof food to Project MANAfor every two units hesells to the public.

“We are in the researchand development phaseof this right now,” Kellysaid. “Today, we provedwe can harvest.”

Growing an ideaThe idea for this project

germinated several yearsago.

As policy, Kelly BrothersPainting donates 5 percentof its profits to communitycauses. The Kelly familywas involved with ProjectMANA’s community gar-den, but Bill Kelly wantedto take the relationshipeven further.

“I’ve always tried togrow my own gardens out-side,” he said. “They areweak, and then it’s too hotor too cold. Those are thechallenges of growing inTahoe.”

Kelly began researchingmountain growing tech-niques and found aColorado-based companyselling dome kits. Heordered one, installed itand began looking for theright person or group ofpeople to help him makethe project work.

At the same time,Sutphin had an epiphany.

The Tahoe/Truckee resi-dent had been on a self-directed sabbatical in hernative state of Ohio. Heronline blog, www.food-lust.net, describes her jour-ney and begins, “I havefoodlust!”

Since 2010, she hadbeen studying permacul-ture, regenerative farming,mychorrhiza fungi andother aspects of sustainablefarming in order to developa comprehensive under-

standing of sustainablegrowing practices.

She was worried shewould never make it backto the Sierra when, oneday, she had a change ofperspective.

“I thought, I’m goinghome (to Tahoe/Truckee),and I’m not going any-where else. We all have tobe concerned about food,and non-producing regionsneed to be even more con-cerned,” she said. “That’swhen I heard about whatBill was doing.”

‘This is wherelife thrives’

The dome is a futuristic-looking structure thatallows year-round growingthrough variety of passivetechnological applications,such as wax-filledhydraulic-like instrumentsthat open and close thewindows according to tem-perature, a water cisternconnected to a system ofpipes which keeps theappropriate temperaturesat the roots of plants, and a

physical design that diffus-es sunlight throughout theinterior of the structure toprevent sunburn on indi-vidual plants.

Sutphin plans to utilize avariety of growing princi-ples and to take advantageof several ecological nichesavailable in the dome. Shewill grow plants in nutri-ent-rich water without soil,plant crops that compli-ment each others needs,and in general create anecosystem in which nutri-ents are reused and recre-ated within a repeating,sustaining system.

Planting beds in thedome are made from woodmilled onsite, and the soilis native, supplementedwith compost and materi-als generated locally.

In time, Kelly andSutphin will add bluegilland coy fish to the cistern,and byproducts from thetank will provide potentfertilizer.

The current plantingincludes a variety of greenssuch as kale, spinach andchard, as well as a fig, kiwiand pomegranate tree. Dilland chamomile are alsoflourishing.

“I imagined this placebefore I came here,” saidSutphin. “I saw a growingstructure on a hill.”

And Kelly believes inwhat he can imagine.

“This is where thingsthrive,” he said. “This iswhere life thrives.”

Harvesting in early AprilStephanieBloom ofProject MANA isworking withKelly BrothersPainting tobring fresh,local and sus-tainable pro-duce to arearesidents.

Photo by Jenell Schwab

Today, weproved we

can harvest.”

Bill Kelly

TAHOE BILTMORE LODGE/CASINOHWY. 28 • Crystal Bay, NV

(800) BILTMORE • (775) 831-0660www.tahoebiltmore.com

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Every Thursday from 5 pm to 9 pm

Enjoy a Three-Course Italian Meal for

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Red, White & Blue Slot TournamentApril 20th – 22nd

$5,000 Pirates Treasure

By Jason ShuehSierra Sun

In Truckee, they can be seenin the downtown Beaconparking lot near the inter-

section of Donner Pass Roadand Bridge Street. In NorthLake Tahoe, they stand nearthe 7-Eleven at the intersectionof Coon Street and North LakeBoulevard in Kings Beach.

They are undocumentedworkers, Latinos mostly, and,as with many communities,Tahoe/Truckee searches to finda middle ground between fed-eral immigration laws andaccommodating a significantminority population and laborforce.

According to a March 2010report from the Pew HispanicCenter, a non-partisanresearch organization inWashington, there are an esti-mated 11.2 million unautho-rized immigrants living in theUnited States.

Like many municipalitiesregionally and across thecountry, North Tahoe andTruckee are grappling withhow to interact with the influxof the undocumented laborforce.

Truckee Police and thePlacer County Sheriff’s Officehave taken an as-needed

approach when confrontingimmigration enforcement. Atthe same time, nonprofits suchas the North Tahoe FamilyResource Center in KingsBeach attempt to channelundocumented labor into posi-tive community service.

NTFRC Executive DirectorEmilio Vaca said the undocu-mented workforce — common-ly called “day workers” — hasproven, as a whole, not to be atransient population that willvanish in the near future.Therefore, it necessitates along-term approach.

“I think we need to movepast the notion that they aregoing to go away, because theyare not,” Vaca said.

Until pragmatic immigrationlegislation is agreed upon fed-erally, Vaca said the undocu-mented labor force should beallowed to integrate into cur-rent industries for which theyare already working — namelyconstruction and contractingwork.

Vaca said the familyresource center hopes to insti-tute a Labor Workforce Centerin the next five or six years, tohelp both documented andundocumented laborers findwork with local employers.

The center, which would bedependent on donations and

volunteer support, would bebased on workforce centersestablished by LUPE — LaUnión del Pueblo Entero — alabor rights group founded in1989 by labor rights activistCésar Chávez.

It would provide job place-ment, trade and leadershipskills, legal services, computerliteracy and ESL (English as aSecond Language) training.

It’s important to support un-documented labor — at leastwithin their current spheres oflabor — Vaca said, as copingmechanisms for the unem-ployed are no different wheth-er they be documented or un-documented.

“No work, from a psycholog-ical point of view, increaseschances for depression andalcohol consumption ... somehave had no work for up toeight months, sometimes a daygoes by when none of themreceive any work,” Vaca said.

In a review of funding, whilesome services of a labor centerare present at the family re-source center, Vaca said com-pletion of one will be depend-ent on financial support fromthe community over the nextfew years.

SIERRA SUNOur 140th year, No. 93 | Serving Truckee, Tahoe City, Incline Village and Kings Beach communities

Wednesday, April 11, 2012 www.sierrasun.com Free

Region takes as-needed approach

How does Truckee/Tahoework with anundocumentedlabor force?

“I think we needto move past thenotion that theyare going to goaway, becausethey are not.”

Emilio Vaca, NorthTahoe Family

Resource Center

EDITOR’S NOTE:Toward the end of 2011,

former Sierra Sun reporterJason Shueh took on hisfinal assignment — an in-depth look at the large dayworker population inTruckee and North LakeTahoe.

Weeks of shadowing andinterviews in both Englishand Spanish with the work-ers themselves, coupledwith discussions with thepublic figures who workwith the population andwith those who are respon-sible for enforcement,revealed some clarifyingfacts regarding these mem-bers of our communities —along with an emotionalanecdote that goes beyondyour typical newspaperreport.

It’s brash and, at times,vulgar. But it’s real. And it’sa narrative worth telling.

Our communities includea significant day workerlabor force, people who areresponsible for many of theluxuries afforded to somany locals who call LakeTahoe and Truckee home.

This is their story, the firstinstallment in a two-part,print-first series. Look forPart 2 in Friday’s print edi-tion; the entire package willbe online next week.

See LABOR, page 4

Photo illustration courtesy of Thinkstock.com

CAN WE LIVE WITH BEARS?In this week’s GrasshopperSoup, Bob Sweigert explainswhy he believes we can peacefully co-exist with theTahoe/Truckee black bear population — with someincredible real-life examples.Read more in Opinion, page 6

Photo courtesy Jim Kass

KEY TO THE FUTUREE.J. Belding, a member of theBechdolt family, gives a key to Judy Friedman, board president of the Tahoe CityPUD, during the Transfer ofOwnership Ceremony for the Tahoe City Golf Course last Tuesday. Read the fullstory on page 13

LOVIN’ HOMEThe Truckee softball teamfinally hosted a game in itshome town, and with positiveresults. Read about theWolverines’ big wins in Sports & Outdoors, page 16

NEWS4 | Wednesday, April 11, 2012 | sierrasun.com

Despite known day labor pick-up locations in Kings Beach andTruckee, local law enforcementwill only intervene with enforce-ment action in two cases: If theyare assisting a federal agencysuch as ICE (U.S. Immigrationand Customs Enforcement) orare applying enforcement due toa criminal incident.

“I’m an equal opportunityprovider,” said Capt. JeffAusnow of the Placer CountySheriff’s Office.

He explained that if there iscriminal activity, the sheriff’soffice will act regardless of thedocumentation status of the sus-

pect.Enforcement specifically for

resident status is a federal mat-ter, and Placer County will onlyintervene upon request of a fed-eral enforcement agency.

“It’s not a (local) law enforce-ment question,” Ausnow said.

In Truckee, enforcement oper-ations are similar.

Traditionally, the town’s un-documented workforce watchesout for itself, said Truckee PoliceCapt. Harwood Mitchell, andday workers do their best to findemployment without interferingwith local residents.

“There is some self-policing

among that group,” Mitchellsaid, referring to undocumentedworkers soliciting at the Beaconlot.

Mitchell made clear, however,to say that officers still monitorthe parking lot as they do otherneighborhoods and areas oftown, and officers do keep tabson the day workers from time totime.

“We don’t have any issueswith them; generally they’re agood bunch,” said Mitchell.

ICE enforcement operationsdo occur regularly in the region;however, specific town and citydata related to ICE enforcement

and removal operations is notavailable, due to ICE jurisdic-tional designations not corre-sponding to city and countylines.

Deportation enforcement andremoval statistics from ICE’s SanFrancisco office, serving North-ern California and Hawaii, havegradually increased from 2006to 2011, said Virginia Kice, ICEspokesperson for its westernregion.

In 2006, the San Franciscooffice reported 7,269 alienremovals; in 2011, that numbermore than doubled to a recordhigh of 19,120 removals.

As with law enforcement,town officials have taken an as-needed approach when con-fronting issues of illegal immi-gration; however, there has beenone incident which called for thetown to take action.

The incident occurred some-time in 2007, when the daylabor force had been locatednear the downtown train depotparking lot, said Vaca, when anundocumented worker entered awoman’s car, thinking she wasrequesting temporary labor,when in fact she did not. Theman — who Vaca said he laterfound out may have suffered

from a mental illness — startledthe woman.

When the man understood hiserror, he exited the vehicle; how-ever, the incident started a pub-lic campaign for the group’s relo-cation away from high traffickedareas such as the train depot.

Alex Terrazas, Truckee’s assis-tant town manager, said thetown’s response was to contractVaca — who is bilingual — tocommunicate with the group inorder to relocate the workers totheir current pick-up site at theBeacon lot.

After two months standingand speaking with the day work-

ers and new arrivals, Vaca saidhe was able to coordinate themove.

“Some of their concerns forthem was that the Beacon lotwas too far away, there waspoor visibility, but eventuallythey understood the need for themove and the Beacon lot workedout,” Vaca said.

Since the relocation, bothMitchell and Terrazas said therehave been few complaints bothfrom an enforcement and townperspective.

“We’ve gotten a call now andthen, but it seems like it’s beenworking out,” Terrazas said.

Eyeing the future, Vaca saidthe work labor center could fur-ther alleviate undocumentedcrowding at pick-up sites byallowing potential employers tocontract laborers — documentedand undocumented — throughthe center, versus the drive-upand hire locations.

Reflecting on local residentreaction, Vaca said generally res-idents are empathetic to daylaborers, so long as they keeptheir pick sites clean and arerespectful.

“For the most part, there is asense of compassion for them,”Vaca said.

‘For the most part, there is a sense of compassion...’

‘It’s not a law enforcement question’

BY THE NUMBERSBelow are statistics from

the San Francisco office ofthe U.S. Immigration andCustoms Enforcementagency, the investigative armof the Department of Home-land Security covering North-ern California and Hawaii.

Statistics are taken fromthe agency’s enforcementand removal operations dataand does not include infor-mation from HomelandSecurity Investigations (HSI)data — HSI dealing withdomestic and internationalactivities arising from the ille-gal movement includinghuman smuggling, humantrafficking, immigration ben-efit fraud and workplace hir-ing violations.

For more informationabout ICE, visit ice.gov

Fiscal Year 201119,120Total removals 12,615Convicted criminal aliens 6,505Non-criminal aliens

Fiscal Year 201015,739Total removals 9,684Convicted criminal aliens6,055Non-criminal aliens


Fiscal Year 200817,165Total removals

8,668Convicted criminal aliens 8,497Non-criminal aliens


Fiscal Year 20067,269Total removals 4,948Convicted criminal aliens 2,321Non-criminal aliens

LABOR, from page 1

Photo by Jason ShuehA group of day workers stands in the Beacon parking lot in Truckee in late November 2011. According to regional law enforcement, officers take an as-needed approach to regulating the crowds; disturbances very rarely occur.

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