Gilberto Rodriguez…Presente:
Cesar Chavez’ UFW morns the passing of
our brother and good friend Gilberto Rodriguez
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Arturo Rodriguez, President
United Farm Workers Gilberto Rodriguez Eulogy April 2, 2007 There are many words we can use to describe Gilberto. For me, I believe “loyal” suits him best. The definition of a loyal person is someone who is “Faithful to another person, ideal, custom, cause, or duty.” Gilberto was a loyal man. His dedication to the UFW resulted in him not only being a part of Cesar’s life and the lives of all of us here this morning, but it also made him a warrior to the Farm Worker Movement. I first met Gilberto in 1975, when the season started in the Imperial Valley. We were working hard to win elections. I was captivated by his energy and drive to help improve the lives of farm workers and their families. He never seemed to tire. As I look at his family today, I realize how much you already miss him. As you know, the fight for justice is not an easy job, and often it takes countless hours of service to accomplish. Gilberto believed he was “chosen” to do this work – and tried to explain this to his young children when they wanted to know where Daddy was and why he couldn’t be home more. Familia Rodriguez: your father was chosen to be part of a movement designed to ease the suffering of those who labor in the heat of the day. Gilberto was an inspiration to the UFW. Losing Gilberto causes great heartache among the Union. He was precious to so many people. UFW’s Jocelyn Sherman is one example. Extending his nickname “Chon” and baptizing her “Chona” … Speaking of nicknames, how many people were given a nickname by Gilberto? He used to call me Arturrro – because I like to roll my Rs. He called my wife Sonia – “La Doctora Radio” because that’s how radio announcers referred to her during interviews… During organizing campaigns, paralegals used to come out to help us and Gilberto thought they were lawyers … when they explained the difference, he decided to call them what they were to him – “casi abogados.” I had a nickname for Gilberto – he was my “MUSTANG Gilbert” – do you all remember that ride? Black, shiny, and it was really nice. I remember the first time he brought it to 40 Acres … he was “Mustang Gilbert” from that day forward. Nicknaming … that was his way… Anyway, back to Jocelyn’s story … Gilberto had faith in his “Chona” and pushed Jocelyn to speak Spanish to workers, increasing her confidence and opening up her ability to communicate with them. To this day, she benefits from his influence to not be afraid, but to just go for it. Irv Hershenbaum remembers Gilberto doing what he enjoyed most – organizing farm workers. One particular time, Gilberto and Irv were working with Scheid wine grape workers who were afraid to get fired by their supervisor for supporting the Union. Gilberto took the lead. He explained the importance of organizing and how the workers needed to believe and support each other in order to make progress. He convinced them they could win. I’m proud to say we won that election 2-1, and the UFW still has the contract despite repeated attempts to decertify the UFW. We thank you Gilberto. Over the past week, I have heard dozens of stories about the great man Gilberto was. Although, he was more often kept at the side and out of the spotlight, he always had a key role in the advancement of the movement. I can still hear him greeting everyone with a hearty – ORALE – when he walked into a room … he was a good man, a man with strong character … in fact, his character was truly a representation of what we all should strive to be. He had such energy. His daughter Diana shared a story about how Gilberto convinced her and her siblings to ride with him from Brawley – all the way – to La Paz … in a tiny Volkswagen. That morning, he piled everyone in the car and told them they were going “someplace fun” – that’s all he told them. They eagerly squeezed into the car … hours later; they started to wonder where it was they were going. After driving on bumpy highways for hours in the hot summer, they finally made it. Gilbert was assigned a Dodge Valiant – the kids were thrilled – they were so thankful for the extra room! One thing we all loved about Gilberto was how he sort of developed his own language – we’d call him “Gilberto Cucs-Mus” because he was always creating new phrases. When organizers didn’t know what to do or where to go, Gilberto never skipped a beat – “Con la left!” he say, which meant, JUST GET STARTED! He truly loved and believed in La Causa. His loyalty to Cesar was evident. He will be truly missed by all. One last story that I think describes Gilberto best was shared to me by UFW organizer Roman Pinal. During the summer of 2003 in the middle of an organizing campaign in Delano, Gilberto’s car had broken down and he needed to borrow Roman’s to get to Brawley for a doctor’s appointment. Roman offered his car without hesitation. It was an old, beat up Geo Metro … little did Gilberto know at the time, but the car had all sorts of problems – the windows didn’t go up or down, the radio didn’t work… in fact, Roman was worried the car wouldn’t make the trip. When Gilberto returned the car to Roman, he simply thanked him and handed him the keys. On his way home that night, Roman realized – Gilberto had returned the car with ALL PROBLEMS FIXED. For most people, when they borrow something, they know to return it in the same condition … Gilberto showed Roman that he left things better than when he found them. I proudly speak for the Farm Worker Movement when I say that was simply Gilberto’s way … he too, made an entire Union better, stronger because of his time, his efforts and his loyalty. Que Viva Gilberto! Thank you. |
Remarks by Paul F. Chavez
Memorializing Gilbert Rodriguez Brawley, Calif. April 2, 2007 My father once said we don’t get to choose the time and circumstances of our death. But it seems fitting that Gilbert died in the middle of this season commemorating my dad’s life and work. Many people think of my father as a hero. He didn’t. My dad always felt very uncomfortable about being singled out. He refused most personal awards and almost never allowed anyone to name something after him. He felt uncomfortable because he knew there were too many other people who made remarkable sacrifices and accomplished extraordinary things – that there were many Cesar Chavezes. Learning that Gilbert passed away just five days before the state holiday honoring my father reminds us about those other heroes who my dad knew went unnoticed and unrecognized. So as we bring Gilbert to his rest at the same time my dad is being remembered, it is also fitting to recall how much alike they were. They really shared the same life. • They were both Chicanos. Their lives began and ended very close to one another: Gilbert was born and died in the Imperial Valley. My dad was born and died next door in the Yuma, Arizona area. They both labored with the short-handled hoe in the worst weather and under the most miserable conditions. • Each of them ended their formal schooling after the eighth grade. They were forced to quit in order to help support their families. They even attended some of the same schools in Brawley. • Both men worked hard to get out of agriculture: My dad went to work for the Community Service Organization, learning how to organize. Gilbert became a truck driver and a loader in a warehouse before going to work for California Rural Legal Assistance. Then they returned to their roots, working with the poorest of the poor the farm workers. It became a lifelong pursuit and gave meaning to both of their lives. In a tape-recorded interview just two and a half months before his passing, Gilbert described how Manuel Chavez sought him out in 1972, during a big strike in the cantaloupes, and asked, “You think you can help us for two weeks working for the union in Arizona?” “Sure,” Gilbert answered. His time with the union lasted longer than two weeks. • For both Gilbert and my dad, their commitment to the union involved much more than acts of personal sacrifice. It demanded genuine sacrifices by the whole family: Working long hours day after day, week after week, often being away from home and family for long periods. Not being there for important events when their kids were growing up. Working for nearly no pay— for just five dollars a week back then. Forcing their children to go without many of the things other fathers provided their kids. Some fathers are distant; they don’t really want to spend time with their sons and daughters. Gilbert and my dad weren’t like that. When Gilbert was disabled in an accident at work, he spent five years at home raising his young kids. When my dad couldn’t be there for an important family event— a birthday or graduation— he would sit down and explain why to the appropriate son or daughter. He would try and help us understand. It was the same with Gilbert. “But somebody had to do it. I would talk to my kids when they were smaller [trying] to convince them somebody has to do it. I told them that I was a chosen person to help out with the union. I think they understood, Now that we talk about it later, so many years later.” For my father just like Gilbert, the work was so important the need was so great that it just had to be done. Gilbert answered the same call to service. He believed if he didn’t do it, no one else would. It was the ultimate form of sacrifice. Just a few months ago, Gilbert said, “Now I feel the things I was doing was the right way … to better not only the farm workers but their families.” • Both Gilbert and my dad faced threats of death because of their work. The nine-month long Arizona lemon strike in 1974, that Gilbert helped run, cost the growers millions of dollars. It was so successful, Gilbert recalled, that “the trees had so many [unpicked] lemons they were falling down because of the weight.” One day, strike leaders learned someone put up thirty thousand dollars each to kill Manuel Chavez, Gilbert Rodriguez and some of the other picket captains. “Manuel told me, ‘You want to go home, go home,’” Gilbert remembered. “I told Manuel I’m not afraid,” Gilbert said. “I’m staying until the end of the strike.” In the midst of one assassination threat in 1971, my dad said if someone wanted to kill him, he wasn’t going to run and hide because he was doing the right thing and he wasn’t afraid. • Both Gilbert and my dad also went to jail for their convictions. My father was jailed many times for violating anti-picketing or anti-boycotting injunctions. Gilbert along with 17 picket captains spent three weeks in jail for striking in Yuma during the lemon walkouts in 1974. Gilbert, my dad and I went to jail together — along with over 100 strikers —at Bertuccio Farms in Hollister in 1982. That summer we all went to jail together again at Steakmate in Morgan Hill. • Gilbert spent two periods of time assigned to security for my father. They spent months together, driving and having long talks throughout California and Arizona. • Finally, both Gilbert and my dad never thought of quitting or stopping. Until the day he died, my dad never stopped working or struggling. Gilbert was asked last January if he had retired. “I haven’t retired yet,” he replied. “But I think I’m getting close to it. I think I’m getting close to it.” Gilbert also never stopped working or struggling. “They used to call me the fireman because [I] would put out the fires,” Gilbert said. He got the toughest, most difficult assignments: the hardest organizing campaigns. Always modest, Gilbert would add, “I didn’t think it was something special. It was part of my job. It’s the way I took it as an organizer.” * * * He arrived in time to see my father being carried out of the home on a gurney and transported to the morgue in Yuma. Gilbert followed him to the morgue. “They put him in a little room,” Gilbert said. Gilbert waited there for hours while arrangements were made to fly my dad back to Bakersfield. He began to cry. “He was like a brother to me. We were very very close.” I don’t know if my dad ever told Gilbert how he felt about him. Sometimes such things never get said between men like Gilbert and my father. But deeds speak far more powerfully than words. My dad spent decades assigning Gilbert the hardest jobs and most difficult challenges when the welfare and the very future of the union they both loved was at stake. My dad once said, “True wealth is not measured in money or status or power. It is measured in the legacy that we leave behind for those we love and those we inspire. In that sense, Gilbert is a truly wealthy man. God Bless Gilbert Rodriguez. |