Field Hands Seeking Amnesty Frustrated by Long Wait

Thousands of Mexican field laborers have converged on this border city recently with intentions of filing for amnesty, only to be told they must wait for weeks before submitting their applications. Many have been stranded here without money and food. The problem: a shortage of U.S. immigration staffers in neighboring Calexico, where the applications are processed.

The lengthy delays, exacerbated by immigration staff cutbacks and now stretching up to six weeks, have caused chaos in this sweltering border city, where hundreds of frustrated farm workers spend their days waiting aimlessly in a tunnel that is part of the customs complex, their wide-brimmed country hats pulled over their eyes, newspapers and cardboard strips serving as beds. Many have chosen to jump the border illegally, as they have done for years, or return to their homes in the Mexican interior.

“We cannot afford to stay here and pay for food and a hotel,” said Aristeo Espinoza, 52, a father of three from the interior Mexican state of Michoacan, who was waiting in line in the tunnel but acknowledged a measure of luck: He had been sleeping in the home of relatives here during the past three weeks.

Sleeping in Tunnel

Not so fortunate was Alfredo Gonzalez, 20, also of Michoacan, who has no family here and was recently preparing to spend another evening in the pungent tunnel.

“I’ve been sleeping on the streets, in train stations, in parks, wherever,” explained Gonzalez, who, like most of his fellow field workers, carried only enough cash to meet his $185 amnesty application fee and his travel expenses to California’s Central Valley, where he hoped to find field work. “People are nice. Sometimes someone gives me a taco to eat.”

The severe logjam here--mirrored in two- to three-week delays at similar border posts at Otay Mesa in San Diego and Laredo, Tex.--is perhaps the most dramatic manifestation of the problems now facing a remaining piece of the amnesty equation: the program for so-called seasonal agricultural workers.

Until now, the farm-laborer initiative has remained largely in the background while attention focused on the general amnesty effort, which applied to undocumented immigrants who have lived in the United States since 1982. The application period for that program expired amid much fanfare on May 4. Some 1.5 million signed up.

But farm workers have until Nov. 30 to apply under a related effort. (The different deadlines have themselves caused extensive confusion nationwide, contributing in part to the delays here.) The farm-labor program raises the possibility of permanent legal status for those who performed at least 90 days of work with fresh vegetables and certain “perishable commodities” during the one-year period that ended May 1, 1986.

The farm-worker initiative, with its more liberal criteria and longer application period than the general amnesty program, was included in the 1986 immigration reform legislation at the insistence of Western growers, who feared losing their long-reliable staple of plentiful and inexpensive laborers, mostly from Mexico. Eastern and Midwestern growers make wider use of legal workers.

Although some 500,000 applicants have signed up for the farm-worker program, half of them in California, critics say that confusion, a lack of official attention and unduly stringent guidelines have hampered progress. “The immigration service has made it extremely difficult for people to attain (legal) status,” said Tina Poplawski, an attorney with the Farmworker Justice Fund in Washington, one of a number of advocacy groups that has filed suit seeking to open up the program for more laborers.

Many farm workers have reported difficulties obtaining paper work such as payroll records documenting their time in the United States; employers often pay them off the books, illegally bypassing federal deductions. There have been reports of employers charging applicants excessive fees for the documentation.

Fraud has also been a serious problem in the farm-worker program, particularly among applicants in Calexico--where officials say such deception is evident in as many as half of the cases--and among Haitian immigrants applying in Florida. Authorities say the high rate of fraud among farm-worker applicants is related to the relatively liberal application guidelines compared to the general amnesty initiative.

The results of the program may have wide ramifications for Western agriculture. After Nov. 30, growers will be subject to stiff fines and potential jail terms for hiring undocumented workers. Agricultural groups have expressed concern that reduced turnout could translate into a future shortage of field workers, starting next year. Growers’ representatives have pushed the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service to improve its performance.

‘Intolerable Situation’

“There’s just not sufficient INS staff to process applications at the border; there’s a tremendous backlog,” said Roy Gabriel, who heads a Sacramento-based growers’ group called Alien Legalization for Agriculture, which has assisted in the sign-up effort. “I think it’s an intolerable situation.”

INS officials say they’re doing the best they can with a limited staff. They note that the 500,000 farm-worker applications received thus far have already topped initial projections of 400,000 for the entire program. Despite criticism that many applications are being rejected, INS officials say that 92% of the farm workers processed thus far have been accepted, slightly lower than the 98% acceptance rate for general amnesty applicants.

“I think . . . the numbers of applications indicate a success,” said Duke Austin, an INS spokesman in Washington.

But a number of applications are being held for further review or investigation, according to INS officials, which has led some to anticipate a higher rate of denial.

“We’re looking at anything that’s suspicious in an application,” said Aaron Bodin, INS deputy assistant commissioner for the agricultural workers program. Although Bodin does not anticipate a dramatic increase in denials, he predicted that “there will be a higher proportion of denials among the cases being held. As we bite more and more into that group of cases, it will influence the ultimate approval rate.”

Susan Alva, an attorney with the Los Angeles Public Counsel’s legalization appeals project, said that her office is gearing up for a 10% to 15% combined denial rate in the agricultural and general amnesty programs.

“There has been a disproportionate holding back on the issuance of denials,” she said. “It’s always been our belief that the denials have been intentionally held back so as not to discourage people from coming forward to apply.”

As for the backup at Calexico, officials say they plan to add 13 or 14 extra staffers this week in an effort to cut into the delay. INS officials acknowledge that delays were worsened by recent staff cutbacks that led to reduced hours at Calexico and Otay Mesa; the cutbacks resulted from long-scheduled staff transfers that were unavoidable, officials say.

“It’s not something we want to live with,” William King, INS regional director of immigration reform in Los Angeles, said of the delays at Calexico. “I don’t think it’s a good situation, but it’s something that’s beyond our control. I don’t have infinite resources. . . . The numbers coming at us were more than we contemplated.”

The rush at the border here was particularly acute in April and early May, as many farm workers believed, mistakenly, that the May 4 deadline applied to them.

“The crush was terrible,” said Martin Martinez, a Mexican immigration official here, who recalled crowds of as many as 2,000 workers arriving in Calexico daily to file applications, in the weeks leading up to May 4. “It was particularly difficult for pregnant women and women with children. We tried to bring them water and food.”

Although applicants once waited along the border fence, beneath the searing desert sun, Mexican officials moved the line some weeks ago into the tunnel, where there is a measure of protection. Water and toilets are also more available now, although not easily accessible. Many in line are hesitant to step out, fearing they may lose their places.

“People on line were passing out left and right,” Connie Caldwell, deputy chief legalization officer for the INS at Calexico, said of the situation in April. “We were overwhelmed.”

Bulging Waiting List

The daily crush has abated considerably since May 4, but its legacy is a bulging waiting list in Calexico of more than 20,000 names, stretching processing into the last week of June. With the bolstered staff, INS officials hope to expand hours and process as many as 800 applications a day in Calexico, compared to the 500 or so being completed daily last week.

The INS farm-worker office in Calexico, like sister operations along the U.S.-border at Otay Mesa and Laredo, was set up last year at the behest of Western farmers concerned about workers “trapped” in Mexico. The offices offer an obvious advantage for Mexican applicants: They can file without having to enter the United States illegally.

Despite its problems, the Calexico office has proved its worth. As of last week, the facility had processed some 50,000 applicants, making it perhaps the busiest farm-worker sign-up site in the nation. Most applicants are allowed to remain in the United States for 90 days, sufficient time to complete their applications at INS offices in the U.S. interior.

Apart from the delays, fraud has been a major drawback, evident in one-third to one-half of the applications filed in Calexico and Otay Mesa, according to James Turnage, district director for the INS in San Diego. There have been a number of indictments of applicants, contractors and others who have allegedly provided false information; numerous investigations are continuing, Turnage said. Farm workers have also been victimized by storefront immigration “consultants” that have sprung up in Mexicali, promising to assist applicants but often providing misleading documents and information, according to Mexican and U.S. officials.

Authorities say fraud has also been highly in evidence among Haitians living in Florida, which ranks second after California in total number of farm-worker applications, accounting for almost 16% of the total nationwide. In one Florida case, 61 people were indicted, although none were successfully prosecuted. Frustrated farm-worker advocates in Florida say the Haitians have been targeted unfairly--an allegation disputed by authorities.

“The immigration service has effectively brought the program to a halt for Haitians here,” said Cheryl Little, supervising attorney with the Haitian Refugee Center in Miami, which is planning legal action.

In Calexico, the program has effectively halted for the thousands of often-destitute farm workers who find themselves having to wait for weeks before they can even submit applications. The delays have caused frustration among those gathered here, who walk about clutching Manila envelopes containing their applications. Some carry gym bags or plastic sacks filled with their meager belongings; the bags serve double duty as pillows. Many say their long-time bosses are expecting them shortly in fields from San Diego to Washington state; they fear losing their jobs.

Two men, Carlos Gonzalez, 50, and his father, Joaquin Gonzalez, 69, farm workers for decades, said they arrived at Mexicali on April 25 seeking to beat the May 4 deadline that, it turned out, didn’t apply to them. More fortunate than most, the two had the means to go back to their home in southern Mexico, spending more than $100 each on bus fees, food and other expenses, before returning for their scheduled appointment last week. They came back expecting an expeditious entry and uneventful trip to the fields near Stockton, where the elder Gonzalez has several sons, only to hear more bad news.

“Now they tell us we have to wait a few more days,” a distraught Carlos Gonzalez said as he waited in line in the tunnel last week, the treasured applications occupying a small plastic shopping bag, his only luggage. “This is unjust. We have work waiting for us on the other side. We only want to work.”

Times staff writer Marita Hernandez in Los Angeles contributed to this story.