- Today, we are pleased to
introduce Sergio Gonzalez

as part of the Wisconsin
Historical Museum's

History Sandwiched In
lecture series.

The opinions expressed today
are those of the presenters,

and are not necessarily those

of the Wisconsin
Historical Society

or the museum's employees.

Sergio M Gonzalez is
a doctoral candidate

in the Department of History

at the University of
Wisconsin Madison.

His research and teaching
interests include labor,

working class, and
immigration history.

His primary research
focuses on the development

of Latino communities
in urban areas

in the American Midwest
with an emphasis

on the religious communities
Latino immigrants developed

in Milwaukee, Wisconsin,
throughout the 20th century.

His article,
"Interethnic Catholicism

"in the Transnational
Religious Connection:

"Milwaukee's Mexican
Mission Chapel

"of Our Lady Guadalupe,
1924-1929"

will appear in the upcoming
winter edition

of the Journal of
American Ethnic History,

and he is currently completing
a book manuscript entitled,

"Mexicans in Wisconsin"

for the Wisconsin
Historical Society Press.

So if you could
all please join me

in welcoming Sergio Gonzalez.

(audience applauding)

- Buenas tardes.
- [Audience] Buenas tardes.

- Ah, buenas tardes, all right.

That's the extent of
the Spanish for the day

for those of you who thought
it'd be bilingual some.

Well, a little
bit more mixed in.

Thank you all for
being here today.

It's a beautiful day outside,

and I know it took a little
bit of effort probably

to come out from the sunshine
and spend an hour in here,

so thank you for being here.

We're gonna spend the
majority of our time today

in the 1920s, which is where
the story of Los Primeros,

Milwaukee's first Mexican
community, takes place.

But before we go back
nearly a hundred years,

I'd actually like to
start with an event

that happened this year.

Raise your hand if you're
familiar with the events

of February 18th of 2016.

Okay, so quite a few of you.

So for those of
you who don't know,

El Dia Sin Latinos occurred
on February 18, 2016,

when over 20,000 people,
including immigrants,

their native born
sons and daughters,

and their allies
took to the streets,

here around the Capitol, and
then eventually inside of it,

to protest what they
believed to be anti-immigrant

and truly anti-Latino
legislation.

And they were protesting
specifically two bills.

The first was AB450,
Assembly Bill 450,

which would have
allowed police officers

to question anyone
they suspected

of committing a crime about
their immigration status

and then detaining
them for deportation

if they thought they
were here undocumented.

The second bill that the
people were protesting

on that day was Senate Bill 369,

which eventually did pass,

and that one blocks
counties statewide

from issuing local IDs

to people who can't
access state versions.

What we saw on
February 18th was part

of a multi-year process of
anti-immigrant legislation

that really kind of first
started in Arizona with SB1070,

and we've seen pop up throughout
the American Southwest,

the American South,

and parts of the
American Midwest as well.

However, the collective
action of the people that day,

the 20,000 people-plus
that stormed the Capitol,

successfully defeated
the more kind of odious

of the two proposed
bills, AB450,

and also brought to
light the growing power

of the state's Latino community.

Now, for many Wisconsinites,

this may have been
the first time

that they've caught a
glimpse of so many Latinos

in their state.

And they may have even
considered this kind of,

an anomaly, and abnormality,

and they might've thought,
how did this happen?

How could there be so many
Latinos in this state?

I've traveled
throughout the country,

and when I tell
them where I'm from,

and I tell them that my parents
are both Mexican immigrants,

the first thing that
I'm invariably asked is,

I didn't know there were
Latinos in Wisconsin.

(audience laughing)

They may have mistakenly
thought this community

was a new one, and in some
ways they would be correct.

Latino's share in the state's
overall population has grown

from about 2% in 1990,

to 3.5% in 2000,

to 6.3% in 2013.

The Latino community,

and specifically the
Mexican community,

which is the focus
of our talk today,

however, has a
history in this state

that reaches back
over a hundred years.

And interestingly enough, the
anti-immigrant legislation

and this kind of
anti-immigrant atmosphere

that led to the
development of these bills,

also reaches back
over a hundred years

in this state's history.

The response from
the Latino community,

as you might imagine, also
goes back to those time

of Los Primeros, the first
Mexicans who came to this state.

So what I'd like to do today is

to give us a brief
introduction to that history,

drawing from some
of the research

that I've done for
my dissertation and
for my upcoming book.

And we're going to learn a
little bit about Los Primeros,

Spanish for the first,
primero is first.

The original pioneers
who came from Mexico

to establish roots and make
the first Mexican community

in Milwaukee.

In order to give the protest

that occurred this year
a little bit of context

and, perhaps, open
discussion afterwards

for where our state's Latino
community might be going,

moving forward.

I'm gonna go back farther
than Los Primeros,

before 1920s though,
to introduce you

to an important figure,

a man who kinda has
a singular place

in Wisconsin's history.

And so this man actually
predates the establishment

of Milwaukee's first
Mexican community.

His name is Raphael Baez.

Raphael Baez was born in
Puebla, Mexico, in 1863,

and he actually came
to Wisconsin in 1886.

His story is very
different from the stories

of Los Primeros who
came in the 1920s

for a number of
different reasons.

Number one, he was recruited
to come to the United States

as a classically
trained musician.

He was actually living in
Mexico City at the time

that the was found by the
CD Hess Opera Company,

a national American
opera company,

and he was a classically
trained violinist.

He was recruited to come
to the United States

to perform music.

And so in 1886, he came
to the United States,

and he settled in Milwaukee,
Wisconsin, of all places.

And he was a composer.

He was an organist and
music and choir director

for churches and synagogues
throughout the city

of Milwaukee.

He was also a tutor
and a professor.

We can actually
count him as being

the first Latino professor
at Marquette College,

now Marquette
University, in 1892.

And he was also respected
and active member

of the city's civic scene.

He was a member of
the Jefferson Club.

And for you political fans,
at the turn of the century,

the Jefferson Club was
the most important,

Democratic party
organization in the state.

He was actually on
the music committee

for the Jefferson Club,
maybe helping set the music

for the political
party, I don't know.

His story, as I said,
though, was atypical

from that of the stories
we're going to hear

for the rest of today's talk.

He was a highly skilled, highly
educated in classical music.

He was recruited here to
come to serve in these number

of different positions
as a director of choirs,

and as an organist.

And probably most important,
as you'll see today,

he also gained a pretty
fairly well respected position

in the state's community,

and, specifically, in
Milwaukee's community.

The majority of the
early Mexican immigrants,

however, that came
after Baez in the 1910s,

didn't come as classically
trained musicians,

and they didn't come
to work as composers.

The majority of
them came to work

in the state's
agricultural industries,

many arriving by
way either of Mexico

or by state's in the southwest,
in the American southwest.

Employers in Wisconsin in
the sugar beet industry

were actually the first
to recruit large numbers

of Mexicans in the 1910s,

and they called these workers
[speaking in Spanish],

which is someone
who picks beets,

in larges numbers
to fill positions

that had formerly been
held by Germans, Belgians,

and Russians in the
state's beet fields.

And Mexican who came to
Wisconsin in the 1910s came

to work all over the state.

We have reports of them
working in Green Bay,

and Fond du Lac, and Oshkosh
throughout the 1910s.

And they actually had
their largest concentration

in those first two decades
of the 20th century

in Waukesha and the
surrounding area,

where they worked both
in agriculture as well as

for companies like
International Harvester,

the Werra Aluminum Foundry,
the Waukesha Foundry,

and General Casting Company.

This early Mexican migration
and immigration, however,

to the state was pretty minimal,

as groups of 10s or 20s, and
many times they didn't stay

for too long and they
went back to Mexico.

It wasn't really until the 1920s

that we saw the first big growth

of Wisconsin's
Mexican community.

And to kind of understand
how it is that Mexicans came

to arrive to Milwaukee
in the 1920s,

we have to get a little bit

of immigration and
political history.

So I hope you can keep
up with me, and if not,

raise your hand, and we'll
try to fill in the spots.

So the settlement of Los
Primeros in Milwaukee was

in many ways
facilitated by changes

in national immigration law.

At the national level
throughout the first two decades

of the 20th century, federal
legislators were wrestling

with fundamental questions

of how immigration helped shape
the character of the nation.

And when I saw character, I
mean a few different things.

Federal legislators,
and social commentators,

considered questions of how
immigrants shaped the cultural,

the linguistic, the religious,

and the racial character of
citizens of the United States.

So this is a story that some
of you might be familiar with.

Rapidly increasing
numbers of immigrants

from southern and
eastern Europe arriving

in the United States at
the turn of the century

were the reason that a
lot of these questions

were coming up.

And with more and
more immigrants

from these countries
settling in urban centers

like Milwaukee, questions
of who was an American,

and what qualified someone
for becoming an American,

occupied the minds of many.

So drawing upon nativists,
xenophobic concerns

of increasing number of
hyphenated Americans,

Irish-American, German-American,
Italian-American,

in other words, people
who define themselves

by dual ethnicities or dual
understandings of their identity

in the years
following World War I,

federal legislators came
to define who was desirable

for entry into the United States

upon racial and ethnic
distinctions in order

to better maintain a
national American character

and a national
American identity.

And so Congress passed
two pieces of legislation

that radically altered
the face of immigration

for the ensuing four decades,

and that's the map you see
on the right over here.

The Emergency Quota Act of 1921,

and then followed by the
Immigration Act of 1924,

drastically limited the
number of immigrants

from southern and
eastern Europe,

and curbed all
immigration from Asia.

Suddenly stopping this
immigration flow, however,

caused a major headache, and
problem for business owners.

Ending immigration from
those parts of Europe

was basically shutting
off the spigot,

turning off all sources of
labor for their businesses.

And so in the build up to the
passage of these two laws,

growers and industrialists
throughout the United States,

and specifically
agriculturalists,

demanded access from
Congress to importable labor

that would be inexpensive and
that would be easily accessed.

And so thanks to lobbying
from these business interests,

Congress decided to
solve the problem

by exempting all immigrants
from the western hemisphere.

So that'd be Canada.

You can imagine that's not
really what they had in mind,

specifically Latin America.

And so those two areas, the
entire western hemisphere,

Canada and all of Latin
America was exempted

from these quotas.

And due to Mexico's proximity
to the United States,

legislators argued
that Mexican immigrants

would be less likely to
attempt to permanently remain

in the country.

They said, well, look,
Mexico's right down the way,

they'll come and do their work,

and then they'll head
back when they're done.

And, thus, they would
pose a minimal threat

to national cultural
and racial homogeneity,

to this idea of an
American identity

or an American character.

The popular term for
immigrants coming from Mexico

at the time was this
idea of birds of passage.

Right, you know how a
bird migrates according

to the seasons.

And so legislators argued
that Mexicans would come

to work as temporary
migrants during peak levels

of employment, considered
when the planting season

and the harvesting season,

and then they would
return home to Mexico

when they were no longer needed.

So during the 1920s,

because of this changes
in immigration law,

about 50 to 100,000 Mexican
immigrants made their way

to the United States annually.

This is a dramatic jump.

Milwaukee companies
were not immune

to the changes in
immigration law.

Faced with declining
immigration from Europe,

and increased industrial
needs following World War I,

many Milwaukee companies
looked south for new workers,

both for African American
workers in the US south,

but also, more importantly
for our discussion today,

recruiting laborers of
Mexican descent from Mexico

and the American southwest.

So here's what
companies would do.

Companies would send down what
were known as enganchistas.

Enganchista means
someone who hooks.

Enganchar means to
hook or to grab.

And these were labor recruiters.

So they would send them down
either to the border region

or directly into Mexico.

And these Enganchistas,
they promised Mexican men,

many of them who were
single and young,

they promised them the
opportunity to travel

to the United States to
find stable employment.

And so these labor
recruiters went down

to a number of states,

specifically to the
central parts of Mexico.

So they went to
states in Mexico,

including Guanajuato,
Aguascalientes, Michoacan,

Zacatecas, Nuevo
Leon, and Jalisco,

which is actually where
both of my parents are from.

These men would sign contracts,

and they were usually
limited term contracts.

So they'd say you can
come to work to Wisconsin

for six months to a year, and
then your contract expires

and you'll head back.

But here was the rub,
here was the problem.

These contracts were
often in English.

They weren't translated
into Spanish.

And what the workers
were not told in Mexico

when they were signing
these contracts

is that they were actually
being recruited as scabs

to come up to Wisconsin

to help replace the
unionized workforce.

Now, for those of you who
know Milwaukee's history,

Milwaukee has a rich
and long union history.

Milwaukee was a stronghold
of labor power throughout

the turn of the century,

and up really until
pretty recently.

And so I'll give
you one example.

On the left over there

is one of the Pfister
& Vogel tannery sites.

Anyone familiar with
Pfister & Vogel tannery?

All right, so Pfister &
Vogel, in the spring of 1920,

they sent down their
enganchistas, their
labor recruiters,

to Mexico in the
midst of a strike

that we initiated by the
Polish and Slavic workers.

And they recruited trains
full of Mexican men to come

to Wisconsin, to
come to Milwaukee.

These men were of course
hoping to find stable work,

and instead they were
greeted at the train depot

by striking workers who
were ready to kill them.

So you can imagine the
type of tone that set

for these two communities
from the onset.

Pfister & Vogel management
obviously was worried

about protecting
their investment.

They paid a lot of money
to send labor recruiters

down to Mexico to
grab these workers,

and they were afraid
of retaliation

on behalf of Polish
and Slavic workers.

So what they actually did is

that they didn't let the Mexican
workers leave the factory.

They actually put up cots
inside the factory walls,

and they made the Mexican
men sleep inside the factory

for fear that if they
left the building,

they would meet trouble

with the city's European
origin communities.

And so it got so bad
that the Pfister & Vogel

tannery company actually
hired instructors

from the YMCA to come in and
do classes and do recreation,

so that the Mexican
men wouldn't get bored

in their off-hours

So this was the
opening introduction

of Mexican workers to Milwaukee.

They're scabs.

They're here to take our jobs.

You've probably heard
some of that before.

Soon, other Milwaukee
companies followed the lead

of the Pfister &
Vogel tannery company.

So the Bucyrus Company,
Harnischfeger Company,

the Ladish Company,
Allis-Chalmers,

England Steel,
Northwestern Coke,

and then railroads
like the Milwaukee Road

and the Northwestern Railroads
sent labor recruiters

down to get Mexican workers
to come to the United States.

Well, as worker
recruitment for Mexico grew

across the country,
Americans soon realized

that this promise from
federal legislators

and industrial owners of
Mexican simply being birds

of passage was an empty promise.

You can imagine, if you
come to the United States

and you find stable work,

regardless of the
discrimination you might find,

you find stable work
and good paying jobs,

you might decide to stay
here to help better provide

for yourself and
for your family.

And so as more Mexican
immigrants decided to settle

in the United States and
not go back to Mexico,

not kind of fulfill this
idea of the birds of passage,

questions of assimilation
and racial acceptability,

once again, rose
to the forefront

of conversations
regarding immigration,

except this time it
wasn't Europe, it was
focused on Mexico.

And so Americans debated whether

the country's new immigrants
could be integrated

into American society,

or if they should be
excluded once again

to protect national identity.

And these questions were
definitely on the mind

of Milwaukeeans throughout
the 1920s and early 1930s.

Besides settling in one

of the most ethnically
heterogeneous,

one of the most ethnically
diverse places in the country,

Milwaukee, the
city of Milwaukee,

Mexican workers experienced

a much different
settlement experience

from that of European
origin immigrants.

Marked less by growing access

to social and political power

and marked more by
ethno-racial discrimination,

economic exclusion,
and social isolation.

So institutions across the city,

and we're talking about
the media, social services,

and public schools, viewed
Mexicans more as a problem

to be solved than a community
to be welcomed into the city.

Numerous editorials from
the Milwaukee Journals

throughout the 1920s.

Everyone knows the Milwaukee
Journal Sentinel, right?

So in the 1920s,

the Milwaukee Journal
published editorials,

advocating strongly
for the expansion

of these quotas that have
been imposed on Europe

to Latin American,
specifically to Mexico.

And I'm going to hold off
on discussing a reading

from them because,
quite honestly,

they're pretty
disgusting editorials,

but I'll just mention
that they used terms

like mongrel and half-breed
when they refer to Mexicans

and the reasons why quotas
should be extended to the south.

I would like to turn, however,

to a more comprehensive
justification.

Probably one of the longest
reports that was prepared

in Milwaukee advocating
for the extension of quotas

or at least to keep an eye

on these Mexicans
arriving in Milwaukee.

And that comes from a
1930 report prepared

by the International Institute,

which was a settlement
agency organized by the YWCA.

And this report was
prepared by a social worker.

Her name was Agnes Fenton,

and Agnes Fenton
surveyed members

of the community on Milwaukee's
south side where a lot

of Mexicans were settling.

And she interviewed
police officers, teachers,

and medical professionals.

And here's what her final
report asked Milwaukeeans.

She asked Milwaukeeans,
"Do you know how intimate

"an American problem
the Mexican has become?"

Her report depicted an
immigrant group that threatened

to disrupt the cultural and
social character of the city.

She portrayed Mexicans
as lazy, uneducated,

unscrupulous, and ultimately
as being undesirable

for integration as citizens.

And she commented that
this racial group,

which she referred to
constantly as peons,

was darker skinned and
of lower intelligence

than Europeans who
had proceeded them.

Her findings marked
Mexicans as racially

and culturally
non-white, as dangerous,

and, thus, as being
unworthy of integration.

And through her conversation
with city officials,

she additionally stoked fears

of potential public
safety concerns.

So, reporting from conversations

with the city's police officers,

her survey stressed this
inherent criminality

among Mexican immigrants.

And this is what she said,

she said, quote, "The
Mexican is law-abiding

"as long as he knows
he is being watched."

She supported her report
with so-called academic

and pseudo scientific
articles by eugenicists,

who emphasized the
quote-unquote "Indian character"

of Mexicans as being a
justification for exclusion

in order to demonstrate
their racial incompatibility.

The report is long.

It's multiple pages, and you
can actually download a copy

of it through the Wisconsin
Historical Society.

It's online.

I recommend, if
you're interested,
to read more of kind of

the attitudes at the time, you
log on and you grab that.

But I would like to end with
one quote from Ms. Fenton

from that report.

She said, quote, "While the
social workers are afraid

"that the peons will not mix
with our native population,

"the eugenists are
afraid that they will.

"It is certain
that interbreeding
cannot be prevented.

"That might be
considered a happy ending

"if the quality of our
racial stock was not lowered

"in the process.

"If the stock of the
Mexican is as good as ours,

"there can be no
scientific objection,

"but there are,
however, competent and
impartial observers

"who consider the peon
inferior to the whites,

"both physically and mentally."

You're getting a
taste for the scene

in Milwaukee in the
1920s for Mexicans.

Even beyond dealing with
social services agencies

like the International
Institute,

Mexicans face harsh prospects

in finding their own
spaces throughout Milwaukee

that might not be marked by
exclusion and by segregation.

Juana Danas, who arrived
in Milwaukee in 1927,

recalled in a 1974 interview

that Mexicans weren't
allowed inside

the south side's Gem Theatre.

On the rare occasion
that Mexicans attempted

to buy a ticket and
enter the establishment,

white patrons
would run them out,

they would yell
racial slurs at them,

and then they would
physically assault them.

Mexicans also learned to
be weary of the police,

of the city's police department,

who would arrest
Mexicans after dances

on trumped up charges
of drunkenness.

And their interactions
between Mexican men

and European-American
women also served

as a point of contention.

Remember that fear
of miscegenation,

of intermixing between races.

Their interactions with Italian
and Polish men usually led

to confrontations
in social settings.

So Porfirio Gonzalez
remembers socials

at the Wisconsin
Roof, which was a bar,

a popular bar on
the near south side,

where members of different
European origin groups

and Mexicans, quote-unquote
(speaking foreign language),

which means they got
into fights over dances

with European-American women.

Despite discrimination, however,

Mexicans continue to
come to Milwaukee,

and specifically in search of
better economic opportunities.

And the recruitment
of one Mexican worker

to the city typically
led to the creation

of a chain migration,

as those who successfully
secured employment,

sent word back home that there
were better opportunities

in Wisconsin.

And eventually the recruitment

of single men as workers
led to the arrival

of entire families from Mexico.

So through 1910,

there were fewer than 50
foreign-born Mexicans living

in Milwaukee.

By 1927, that number had
risen to over 3,000 Mexicans,

and by the end of that decade,
that number was anywhere

from 5 to 7,000.

So the community really
grew over those 10 years.

Newly arrived Mexicans settled

in neighborhoods nested
around their workplaces

on the near south side.

So a lot of them settled
around the Walkers Point area,

the River West area,
and Merrill Park.

And their neighbors
many times included

the more established
ethnic communities

of earlier German and
Polish immigrants,

but they were usually more
recently arrived immigrants,

like Norwegians, Czechs,
Ukrainians, Greeks,

Bulgarians, Serbs,
and Slovenians.

Mexican children, this
will be surprising to you

after what we've heard, but
Mexican children, of course,

didn't have a
great time arriving

at the public schools
in Milwaukee either.

They caught themselves in what
I called linguistic catch-22.

Spanish-speaking students
encountered resistance

from public schoolteachers
and administrators complaining

that the city's newest
immigrants weren't doing enough

to integrate themselves
into American society.

How they would have
done so, I'm not sure.

The story of a young child

who attended Vieau Elementary
School demonstrates

those difficulties.

Like many Mexican children
who came to Milwaukee

in the 1920s, this student
didn't speak any English,

and he struggled to keep
up with his American peers

and his classes.

In response to this
child's difficulties,

the child's teacher demanded

that he return home
until he learned English,

at which point he would
be allowed back in class.

The educational experience

of Mexican children
differed greatly

from those of German
and Polish students

in the late 19th and
early 20th century.

And there's quite a bit of
irony in the situation here.

European immigrants who had
settled previously had fought

for Milwaukee's public
and parish schools

to use native language along
with instruction in English,

elevating their own
cultural linguistic heritage

to the same as American
and English standards.

Milwaukee's schools,
before the arrival

of Mexicans to the city,

at this point had a
national reputation

for the progressive
language immersion programs.

But, of course, they
didn't seem to extend

that same sort of
progressive idea

to the newly arrived
Mexican immigrants.

These experiences, however,

didn't deter early
Milwaukee Mexicans

from looking to create
their own social, economic,

and religious spaces.

Artur Morales,

one of the Pfister & Vogel
company's earliest recruits,

who had arrived in
the early 1920s,

managed to save and borrow
the $2,000 he needed

to open Milwaukee's first
Mexican grocery store in 1925.

And that is Artur Morales'
store on the near south side.

The Abila family also opened
(speaking foreign language),

which served as a grocery
and a general store,

a restaurant, and an
importing location

for peppers and herbs as
well as kitchen goods,

like la tamalina, which
is used to make tortillas.

You can imagine you weren't
going to find la tamalina

in random Milwaukee stores.

The Abila's
restaurant also served

traditional Mexican dishes,

like enchiladas,
frijoles and chiles.

Now, I've painted a
pretty negative picture,

you might say, of this
settlement experience

for Milwaukee Mexicans, but
I don't want you to think

that every single relationship
that Milwaukee Mexicans

had with the general community
was an antagonistic one.

And so what I'd like to do
is actually point towards one

of the brightest spots for
Milwaukee's Mexican community.

It's what my primary
research looks at.

And that is the development
of a religious home.

Milwaukee Mexicans
found common ground

with the city's
European-American community

through a shared Catholic faith

and the creation of
Spanish language,

quote, "pioneer missions"

in the mid 1920s.

This first Mexican
Catholic parish right here,

this is Holy Trinity, and
I'll talk about Holy Trinity

in a second.

But the first Mexican
Catholic Parish

that Mexicans eventually created
helped meet the cultural,

spiritual, social,
and linguistic needs

of the Mexican community
throughout the period.

And it was only possible through
interethnic collaboration.

In 1924, Mexicans
began attending

Holy Trinity Catholic Church
on the near south side.

The church's fraternal
order of the Knights

of Columbus noticed this
growing Mexican community,

and they reached out
to the new congregants.

And after consulting with
Mexican community leaders,

the Knights of Columbus decided

to sponsor a Spanish
language mission

in 1924 during holy week.

So this was a Mass, this
was a series of Masses

that were conducted
completely in Spanish by a,

I believe he was
German-American Jesuit priest

who spoke un poquito
espanol, right?

So he did his best
to trudge through

a Spanish language mission,

but this was really
the first time

that Milwaukee
Mexicans felt any sort

of invitation to the
city's community.

Frank Gross, a parishioner
from Holy Trinity

and an active member of
the Knights of Columbus,

took the lead.

He was very interested
in Mexican culture.

He took the lead, he
spoke Spanish fluently,

in working with Mexican
community leaders

to provide regular
Spanish language Masses.

Gross, Frank Gross, he
contacted the office

of the Archbishop,
Sebastian G. Messmer,

who provided a little
bit of financial support

from the archdiocese, and
then he also reached out

to Catholic social
organizations,

like the Society of
St. Vincent De Paul,

to help provide for the physical
welfare of the community.

Together, Frank Gross
and Mexican community
leaders created

the Mexican branch of
the Knights of Columbus,

which was called El
Club Mexicano, in 1924.

And this was, without a doubt,

the first Mexican-led
organization in
Wisconsin's history.

El Club offered the city's
Mexicans the first space

to celebrate their
national heritage

through ethnic
Catholic traditions

and through community dances.

In 1924, the committee
brought the community together

to commemorate the
Battle of Puebla

in early May through
prayer, dancing,

and singing in an event
sponsored by the Knights.

Organized as a celebration
of national identity,

advertisements included
images that emphasized pride

and Aztec heritage and
past military victories.

So imagine this: after
years of the type

of discrimination and
prejudice they faced

on the south side, they
actually have an opportunity

to express and to celebrate
national and ethnic heritage.

Mexican leader and
Frank Gross continue

to collaborate throughout 1925,

and developed a
welcoming spiritual home

for Mexicans through Spanish
language Catholic Masses.

This is actually from 1924.

This is a dance that
the Club Mexicano held

in September of 1924.

They recruited
Spanish-speaking priests

from around the Midwest
to help lead services,

usually from Chicago,

where the Mexican
community was much larger,

and their work led to the
December 1925 mission,

which was the most successful
event organized up to date

in the Mexican community.

The celebration was
devoted in honor

to Mexico's patron
saint, Guadalupe.

And a celebration of Las
Posadas, just a few days later,

represented a public renewal

of their shared Mexican
religiosity and history.

After living through five
years of racial antagonism

on Milwaukee's south side,

the city's Mexican
community saw in the image

of Our Lady of Guadalupe
and the celebration

of her feast day,
a powerful symbol

of ethnic collective solidarity.

So with momentum and
enthusiasm growing

within the Mexican Catholic
community in Milwaukee,

Milwaukee's Mexican leaders

and white Catholic laity
and clergy came together

to plan a development
of an independent chapel

that would be capable of
supporting the Mexican community

in the spring of 1926.

And here's where it
gets really interesting,

or at least I think it does.

The decision to
create a new chapel

for Milwaukee's Mexican
Catholics in 1926 coincided

with the beginning of a
war in Mexico initiated

by the government against
the Catholic church,

called the Cristero
War, La Cristiada.

Mexican president
Plutarco Elias Calles saw

in the Catholic church a direct
challenge in his attempts

to solidify control, and
so in February of 1926,

he ordered the
enforcement of a series

of anti-clerical provisions.

In response, Catholic
protesters rose up

in arms throughout
northern and western Mexico

through the summer of 1926,
with cries of Viva Cristo Rey,

Long live Christ the King.

The ensuing war, and
the persecution of
Mexican Catholics,

captivated Milwaukee's
Catholic community.

And so this is from the
Milwaukee Catholic Herald,

which was one of the
Catholic publications.

And we see over there, an
advertisement from the Compass,

which was the Milwaukee
Knights of Columbus periodical.

And so what the Knights
of Columbus actually did

is connected their
fundraising efforts

for Milwaukee's
Mexican community with
fundraising efforts

for Mexican Catholics abroad.

Right, so they said in order

to protect Catholicism
across the world,

we actually need to support
Mexican Catholics here

in Milwaukee.

In the midst of
the Cristero War,

things began to
falling into place

for Milwaukee's Mexican
community when they are able

to secure two necessary things

for building a religious space:

their own committed
physical location,

and a spiritual leader.

So exiled clergy, especially
foreign-born priests,

such as the Chilean reverend
Ernesto Osorio Aguirre,

were fleeing Mexico
throughout the period,

and Aguirre is right here.

And Aguirre was living in
Texas at the time in 1926,

and he answered the call

to become Milwaukee's
Spanish-speaking priest.

And then Archbishop
Messmer proceeded

to cover the $9,000 cost needed

to purchase an old
storefront on 5th Street,

which was then Grove Street.

And so, on December 12,
1926, Archbishop Messmer,

along with Reverend Aguirre,

led the dedication of the
Mexican mission chapel

of Our Lady Guadalupe, held
in accordance with the feast

of the patron saint of Mexico,
la Virgen de Guadalupe.

For the next two years, Our
Lady Guadalupe's Masses took

on a distinctly political
tone in response

to the continued persecution
of Catholics in Mexico.

It became a cross-ethnic
political space

for Mexicans and Milwaukee's
European origin community

to track geopolitical events

that affected the entire
city's Catholic community.

So from the opening
of this chapel

until the end of the
La Cristiada, the
Cristero War in 1929,

congregants gathered
every single night

to pray for Mexican
Catholics abroad.

By 1929, the Milwaukee
Sentinel reported

that the chapel had become,
quote, "the general headquarters

"for all of the activities of
Mexican life in Milwaukee."

Besides the church, like
many European immigrants

who had made their
home in Milwaukee,

Mexican community members
also created a number

of mutual aid societies
known as mutualistas.

These organizations served
partially as civic groups,

as well as places to
celebrate cultural

and ethnic identity.

However, they were
usually just spaces

to spend time with compatriots.

So there were two mutual aid
societies I'd like to mention.

The first was La Sociedad
Mutualista Hispano-Azteca.

The first one to pop up,

and I want you to notice
the American flag along

with Mexican banners in
the background, right?

So there's this idea
of dual citizenship

or of understanding
of dual allegiances.

And the second was
(speaking foreign language),

which was founded a
little bit later in 1929.

These organizations were
responsible for establishing

the city's first Spanish
language newspapers,

which included El Sancho Panza,

El Boletin Informativo,
and El Mutualista.

And El Mutualista was the most
popular of those newspapers.

And that's over
there on the left.

And Mutualista covered
a wide range of things.

New stories, poetry,
editorials, religious essays,

and patriotic appeals
to the community.

Mutual aid societies
also took on the role

of social functionaries,
funding and hosting dances

and celebrations for the
city's Mexican community.

So two special dates
stood out for celebration,

Cinco de Mayo and then the
Mexican independence day.

And this is what
we see right here.

This is September 16, 1930,

and this is the first
Mexican parade in Milwaukee.

This is a celebration of
Mexican Independence Dday

through the Bay View
neighborhood, 1930.

So by the late 1920s
and early 1930s,

it really seemed like
Milwaukee's Mexican community

had found a foothold
in the city.

Remember we said about
5 to 7,000 Mexicans.

They've got a church base,
they've got businesses,

and they've got a social scene.

Not a happy ending.

This all comes to a halt
with the Great Depression.

The ramifications of the
Great Depression dug deeper

and deeper into the city's
economic opportunities

throughout the early 1930s.

So, for example, in 1933,

only a quarter of the
wage earners in Milwaukee

across the city still had a job,

while only one out of
every five families

was actually already on some
form of welfare or state aid.

Because most Milwaukee
business viewed Mexicans

as simply surplus labor,

they were usually
the first ones fired

from the city's
factories and tanneries.

Faced with high
unemployment with the onset

of the Great Depression,
Milwaukee's Mexican colony began

to shrink very quickly.

Felix Gonzalez remember
in 1975 interviewed

that a large majority of
the single men who had come

to Milwaukee in search of work,

ended up leaving on their own,

but a lot of the families
that had come weren't able

to pay their way back
because it was so expensive

to go back to Mexico.

So they were forced to
hunker down in Milwaukee.

Depleted county
welfare resources

and rising anti-immigrant
settlement also
fueled crackdowns

on both documented and
undocumented immigration

throughout the period.

Local elected officials worked

with federal
immigration officers

to search for Mexicans on
the county welfare rolls

and line them up
for deportation.

And regardless of their
citizenship status

or their documentation status,

many of those suspected,
quote-unquote "public charges"

were apprehended and then taken
for deportation proceedings

in Chicago, oftentimes without
any form of due process.

By 1933, Milwaukee's Mexican
community had been reduced

to fewer than 1,500 people,

as many Mexicans either
returned on their own

or were forced back
through these deportations.

Nationally, the repatriation

of Mexicans during the
Great Depression led

to the deportation of anywhere

from 500,000 to two million
people back to Mexico.

And I'll just note that
a lot of those people

were actually American citizens,

some of them born
in this country

or people who had achieved
citizenship status.

In fact, a few decades ago,

California actually
issued a formal apology

because of the
repatriation of Mexicans

during the Great Depression.

In Milwaukee, it wouldn't
be until the years

following World War II

that Milwaukee's Mexican
community would recuperate

and grow, but
we'll have to leave

that story for another talk.

So we're almost done
here, but before we go,

I'd like to return to El
Dia Sin Latinos protest

from earlier this year.

In a number of
ways, Los Primeros,

the first Mexicans to make
their home in Milwaukee,

encountered a sense of
anti-immigrant fervor

both from their settlement
experience in the 1920s

and then in the possible
repatriation they faced

in the 1930s.

These challenges were driven
by a number of factors.

Fear of the other,
fear of change,

fear of a loss of
economic opportunities,

and then, of course,

at times just unabashed
discrimination and racism.

Those fears that drove cause
to push Latino immigrants out

of Wisconsin communities
nearly a hundred years ago,

I believe, are still in
some ways apparent today.

Not only in these pieces of
anti-immigrant legislation,

but also, of course, in
calls for mass deportations

and walls along our borders

from certain
presidential candidates.

But here's the thing,
throughout the history

of Wisconsin Latino community
there has always been a spirit

of perseverance.

At times, people turned inward,

as they did in developing
mutual aid societies

or their own businesses.

At other points, however,
they found allies

in their surrounding
communities who were willing

to stand with them, as
they did in the development

of Our Lady Guadalupe
mission chapel

and as they did on the steps

of the Capitol just
a few months ago.

There's a saying in the
immigrant rights movement:

(speaking foreign language),

which means we're here and
we're not going anywhere.

So regardless of these efforts
to drive away immigrants,

census and demographic reports

are painting a very
different reality.

They show us that no population
will grow faster or larger

than the state's
Latino population,

which today stands at
about 336,000 residents

but will grow to nearly
one million people by 2060.

And Wisconsin Latinos,

those who are here today
and future generations,

have Los Primeros to thank
for laying down the roots

to endure and (speaking
foreign language).

Thank you.

(audience applauding)