Years ago when the trickle of illegals crossing the border became a flood I became alarmed. I saw what was happening: the takeover.
An online group discussed what could be done about it and set a meeting in Santa Monica at a Burger King. I'm not a joiner but I thought it would be interesting and volunteered to join the meeting.
I drove to the Burger King but there were no cranky white nativists to be seen. I drove around the block and circled the Burger King. Still no cranky white nativists, but there was a table filled with young black men.
I approached the table. "Are you here for the meeting?" "Yeah," they enthusiastically replied.
My father was the co-head of national trade union, and a frequent guest at our house was A.A. Randolph, President of the Pullman Worker’s Union, who was trying to get more blacks into AFL trade unions with my father's support. (They were not successful; high-paying trade union jobs were family legacies and ethnic enclaves.) I thought that since the Civil Rights era, things must have surely changed.
The cranky white nativists finally showed up and they were everything I expected, cranky white nativists. But I was interested in the young black men and asked them why they were there. Jobs. They were looking for what all recent immigrants looked for: construction work. The first step in The American Dream. (Everyone in California is an immigrant.)
All construction in Los Angeles is dominated by Hispanics. I was building my own home in Santa Monica and begged the contractor to hire at least a few black workers. He hired one. A "helper, “ but finally had to let him go because the Hispanics froze him out.
All white contractors in California speak Spanish, the saturation is so deep. A few of the black young men I met at the Burger King took me to a construction site in Pacific Palisades from which they had been fired. I spoke to the foreman and he was not polite. Get off the site he demanded. I refused, backed up by the young black men. The Mexican crews laid down their tools and gathered around. It became clear that if we did not leave, there would be violence.
This is the reality. The recently emigrated Irish during the Civil War rioted against the Union Army draft and lynched several blacks while almost destroying the city. Racist? Sure.
But the real fear was that freed slaves would take their jobs.
I guided my young black friends (my wife is black) to contact the LA City government (a Democrat machine) and file Civil Rights claims against the contractors. I kept track of their progress for a while (I am a writer-producer and was making a tv show and the hours were round-the-clock) but eventually lost track. In sum, nothing happened.
And there is another factor: on my own home site, nearly all the skilled Mexican workers were related. Behind them was the force and disciplined power of family. Nothing had really changed since my father’s time.
As for “the people of color” fantasy, it was yet another Democrat lie. It never existed.
Welcome to the real world. Shocking? Not really.
Years ago when the trickle of illegals crossing the border became a flood I became alarmed. I saw what was happening: the takeover.
An online group discussed what could be done about it and set a meeting in Santa Monica at a Burger King. I'm not a joiner but I thought it would be interesting and volunteered to join the meeting.
I drove to the Burger King but there were no cranky white nativists to be seen. I drove around the block and circled the Burger King. Still no cranky white nativists, but there was a table filled with young black men.
I approached the table. "Are you here for the meeting?" "Yeah," they enthusiastically replied.
My father was the co-head of national trade union, and a frequent guest at our house was A.A. Randolph, President of the Pullman Worker’s Union, who was trying to get more blacks into AFL trade unions with my father's support. (They were not successful; high-paying trade union jobs were family legacies and ethnic enclaves.) I thought that since the Civil Rights era, things must have surely changed.
The cranky white nativists finally showed up and they were everything I expected, cranky white nativists. But I was interested in the young black men and asked them why they were there. Jobs. They were looking for what all recent immigrants looked for: construction work. The first step in The American Dream. (Everyone in California is an immigrant.)
All construction in Los Angeles is dominated by Hispanics. I was building my own home in Santa Monica and begged the contractor to hire at least a few black workers. He hired one. A "helper, “ but finally had to let him go because the Hispanics froze him out.
All white contractors in California speak Spanish, the saturation is so deep. A few of the black young men I met at the Burger King took me to a construction site in Pacific Palisades from which they had been fired. I spoke to the foreman and he was not polite. Get off the site he demanded. I refused, backed up by the young black men. The Mexican crews laid down their tools and gathered around. It became clear that if we did not leave, there would be violence.
This is the reality. The recently emigrated Irish during the Civil War rioted against the Union Army draft and lynched several blacks while almost destroying the city. Racist? Sure.
But the real fear was that freed slaves would take their jobs.
I guided my young black friends (my wife is black) to contact the LA City government (a Democrat machine) and file Civil Rights claims against the contractors. I kept track of their progress for a while (I am a writer-producer and was making a tv show and the hours were round-the-clock) but eventually lost track. In sum, nothing happened.
And there is another factor: on my own home site, nearly all the skilled Mexican workers were related. Behind them was the force and disciplined power of family. Nothing had really changed since my father’s time.
As for “the people of color” fantasy, it was yet another Democrat lie. It never existed.