All They Will Call You

1. The Dehumanizing Silence of a Tragedy

“Long-distance telephone lines from San Francisco, Los Angeles and elsewhere in the state were overloaded into Coalinga. . . . The first call, within a few seconds after the crash, came from the farmer line to the Prison Camp.”

A forgotten disaster. On January 28, 1948, a plane carrying 28 Mexican migrant workers and 4 American crew members crashed in Los Gatos Canyon, California, killing everyone aboard. Despite the immediate local attention and the horrific nature of the crash, early media reports and official documents largely omitted the names of the Mexican passengers, referring to them generically as "deportees" or "Mexican Nationals." This stark contrast in reporting highlighted a systemic dehumanization.

Official misidentification. The initial efforts to identify the victims were flawed and disrespectful. Officials struggled to piece together fragmented remains, leading to misspellings and even gender changes for some Mexican names. For example:

• Tomás Gracia de Aviña became "Tomasa" (female).
• Guadalupe Ramírez Lara became "Guadalupe Laura Ramirez" (female).
• Ramón Paredes was truncated to "Ramon Perez."
• Apolonio Placencia became "Placenti" (Italian).
  This patchwork identification process further erased the individual identities of the deceased, reducing them to mere statistics.

A stark contrast. While the American crew members received immediate identification and dignified funerals, the Mexican passengers were interred in a mass, unmarked grave. This disparity underscored the societal value placed on different lives, with the migrant workers' contributions and humanity overlooked in death, just as they often were in life. The lack of individual recognition became a symbol of their broader struggle for dignity.

2. A Song's Enduring Call for Justice

“Woody Guthrie must surely be smiling, wherever he is. All They Will Call You completes the sad yet compelling story outlined many years ago in his song ‘Plane Wreck at Los Gatos (Deportee).’”

Woody Guthrie's lament. Inspired by the dehumanizing news reports, folk legend Woody Guthrie penned a powerful poem titled "Plane Wreck at Los Gatos (Deportee)." The poem, however, remained unsung for nearly a decade due to Guthrie's declining health. It was a poignant protest against the injustice of namelessness, capturing the collective sorrow and outrage over the forgotten lives.

Martin Hoffman's melody. In 1957, a young college student named Martin Hoffman composed a melody for Guthrie's poem, transforming it into the iconic folk song. Hoffman's "ranchera valseada" melody, rooted in Mexican musical traditions, perfectly complemented Guthrie's words, giving the poem a voice and a lasting emotional resonance. This collaboration brought the story to a wider audience.

A beacon of truth. The song became a powerful anthem, recorded by numerous artists including Pete Seeger, Joan Baez, and Johnny Cash. It served as a crucial historical record and a catalyst for the author's decades-long search for the victims' true identities. The song's enduring popularity ensured that the tragedy, and the question of "who are these friends all scattered like dry leaves?", would not be forgotten.

3. The Bracero's Journey: Dreams and Dehumanization

“It was clear that, despite the mass deportations, valley farmers were still relying on Mexico’s recruiting centers to register braceros, pile them into cargo trains, and inject them into California’s fields by the thousands.”

The Bracero Program's promise. Initiated in 1942, the Bracero Program brought thousands of Mexican men, or "enganchados" (hooked ones), to the United States to work in agriculture. For many, like Luis Miranda Cuevas, it represented a desperate hope for economic opportunity, a chance to earn wages three times higher than back home, and to provide a better life for their families.

Systemic exploitation. The program, however, was fraught with dehumanizing practices. Workers endured:

• Degrading physical evaluations at the border, including strip searches and prodding.
• Delousing with DDT and clothes dipped in Zyklon B.
• Constant threat of deportation, often used as a "backdoor renewal" for contracts.
• Low wages and harsh working conditions in the fields.
  This system treated them as disposable "working arms" rather than human beings.

A schizophrenic system. Post-WWII, as American soldiers returned, anti-immigrant sentiments led to mass deportations, yet farmers continued to demand Mexican labor. This created a paradoxical system where workers were simultaneously recruited and rounded up, highlighting the inherent contradictions and exploitation at the heart of the Bracero Program. The plane crash itself was a direct consequence of this deportation process.

4. Unveiling the Lives Behind the "Deportee" Label

“What followed were not the details of my grandfather that a person would ever find in hospital files, on his birth certificate, or in any hall of records. No, these were the rememberings that by the old campesino’s understanding made up the very core of who he was, his DNA in testimony.”

Beyond the label. The author's journey transformed the anonymous "deportees" into individuals with rich, complex lives. Through interviews with surviving family members, the book reconstructs the personal stories of men like Luis Miranda Cuevas, Ramón Paredes González, Guadalupe Ramírez Lara, and José Sánchez Valdivia, revealing their motivations, dreams, and sacrifices.

Luis Miranda Cuevas: A lover's promise. Luis, from Jocotepec, Jalisco, was a young man deeply in love with Casimira Navarro López. He made multiple trips to "el Norte" to earn money, promising to return and marry her, even planning to bring a mariachi for their wedding. His last phone call to Casimira, just before the fatal flight, was to tell her he was being deported but would still return with a mariachi.

Ramírez and Paredes: Guardians of Charco. Guadalupe Ramírez Lara and Ramón Paredes González, from Charco de Pantoja, Guanajuato, were farmers who fought to protect their community and sought money for an irrigation well. Ramón, a gambler, reluctantly went North, while Guadalupe, a local boxing champion, left to provide for his growing family, including his adopted son Fermin. Their stories highlight the deep connection to their land and family.

José Sánchez Valdivia: The baseball dreamer. José, from La Estancia, Zacatecas, dreamed of playing baseball in America, inspired by Babe Ruth. He worked in California's fields, playing in the "Mexican League" and finding solace in the sport. His generosity led him to trade places on the bus with his cousin Amado, putting him on the ill-fated plane, a decision rooted in his desire to return to Stockton for baseball season.

5. The Crew's Fates: Dreams Intertwined with Duty

“By age twenty-six, Corporal Frank Atkinson had sealed his legend.”

Frankie Atkinson: A pilot's ambition. Captain Frank Atkinson, a decorated WWII pilot, had dreamed of flying since childhood, overcoming poor eyesight to achieve his goal. He was known for his determination and skill, having survived a crash in the Himalayas during the war. His commitment to duty and his family was unwavering, even as he looked forward to retirement and starting a family with Bobbie.

Bobbie Atkinson: A life of quiet longing. Bobbie Kesselring, Frankie's wife and the stewardess on the flight, had a difficult upbringing marked by loneliness and her mother's emotional struggles. She found love and stability with Frankie, and their marriage was a source of immense joy. Tragically, she was pregnant at the time of the crash, a secret they had kept, adding another layer of sorrow to their story.

A twist of fate. Bobbie was not originally scheduled to be on the flight. Both regular stewardesses called in sick, and Frankie asked Bobbie to fill in, promising they'd be home by supper. Her decision to join him, driven by love and the need for extra money for their unborn child, sealed her fate, fulfilling a prophetic comment she once made: "If something were to ever happen to Frankie, I'd wanna be with him."

6. Memory's Resilience: Family Lore and Unspoken Truths

“In their rememberings are their truths.”

Oral traditions. For decades, the families of the Mexican victims, unaware of the official mass grave, kept the memory of their loved ones alive through oral traditions. Stories of their journeys, their personalities, and their last words were passed down through generations, forming a powerful counter-narrative to the official silence. These "rememberings" became their truth.

Cherished artifacts. Despite the passage of time, families held onto precious mementos:

• Casimira Navarro López kept a photograph of Luis Miranda Cuevas, recalling his promise of marriage.
• Ramón Paredes's last letter to his wife, Elisa, detailing his struggles and love, was preserved.
• Guadalupe Ramírez Lara's family remembered his missing finger, a unique identifier.
  These tangible links provided solace and a connection to their lost relatives, fueling a quiet hope for eventual recognition.

The weight of absence. The lack of a known burial site or official confirmation of death left many families in a state of prolonged grief and uncertainty. María de Jesús, José Sánchez Valdivia's mother, spent three years in despair, listening to the radio for news, until her son miraculously reappeared, revealing the tragic misidentification that had caused her immense suffering. This highlights the profound impact of official neglect on personal lives.

7. The Quest for Recognition: From Unmarked Grave to Memorial

“This is what we do for everyone; it’s a basic service and human right that everyone has.”

The author's relentless search. Inspired by Woody Guthrie's song, the author embarked on a multi-year, multi-country quest to identify the victims and locate their families. This involved navigating bureaucratic hurdles, deciphering misspelled names, and relying on local contacts and community newspapers to piece together the fragmented stories. The journey was driven by a deep conviction that every life deserved to be remembered.

Unveiling the mass grave. The search led to Holy Cross Cemetery in Fresno, where a mass grave for the "Mexican Nationals" was discovered, initially marked only by an ambiguous placard. The cemetery director, Carlos Rascon, shared the author's belief in the human right to a named burial, becoming a crucial ally in the effort to erect a proper memorial.

A headstone for the forgotten. On September 2, 2013, a memorial headstone bearing the names of the identified Mexican passengers was unveiled at Holy Cross Cemetery. The ceremony, attended by hundreds, including descendants of both the Mexican victims and the American crew, was a powerful act of collective remembrance and reconciliation, finally giving dignity to those long forgotten.

8. The Power of Storytelling to Reclaim Humanity

“Make no mistake, without the story, the names, just like the headstone, are only a symbol.”

Beyond mere names. The author's work emphasizes that simply listing names on a headstone is not enough; it's the stories behind those names that truly reclaim humanity. Each narrative, meticulously reconstructed from family memories and historical records, transforms a statistic into a person with dreams, struggles, and a place in history.

Connecting disparate lives. The book masterfully weaves together the seemingly separate lives of the Mexican workers and the American crew, revealing their shared humanity and the tragic intersection of their destinies. This narrative approach fosters empathy and understanding, bridging cultural and social divides that existed in life and persisted in death.

A living legacy. The book itself becomes an act of remembrance, ensuring that the stories of the "dry leaves" are not only told but also understood in their full context. It highlights how individual narratives contribute to a larger historical truth, challenging official omissions and celebrating the resilience of memory and the enduring power of human connection.

9. The Unseen Costs of "Temporary" Labor

“Your bodies were not charred by the flames but by the ardent desire of doing what’s right as a husband, as a father, as sons, and as Mexicans.”

The ultimate sacrifice. The plane crash tragically underscored the profound risks and sacrifices undertaken by Mexican migrant workers. Their deaths were not just an accident but a direct consequence of a system that compelled them to leave their homes, endure harsh conditions, and face the constant threat of deportation, all for the "ardent desire" to provide for their families.

A cycle of separation. The Bracero Program, while offering temporary work, created a perpetual cycle of separation for families. Men like Luis, Ramón, Guadalupe, and José repeatedly left their loved ones, enduring immense loneliness and the emotional toll of absence, hoping each trip would be their last. This constant back-and-forth defined their lives and their families' experiences.

The enduring impact. The emotional and economic repercussions of the crash reverberated through generations. Families like the Ramírezes and Sánchez Valdivias faced immense grief, financial hardship, and the lingering pain of unresolved loss. The money received by Luis Miranda Cuevas's family, while providing "real mattresses" and land, came at the cost of a son's life and a mother's broken heart, illustrating the bittersweet and often tragic legacy of migration.