Working in the Agricultural Fields

Hometown hero a country away // Mexican town to honor Santa Ana Councilman Jose Solorio, "the pride of Michoacanos."
March 29, 2004

The Orange County Register, Byline: VALERIA GODINES

Ticuitaco, Michoacan -- Jose Solorio can't stop smiling. That's where he learned to play soccer, right there on that dirt road. That's the stone wall he used to scramble over. And there's the adobe house where he was born.

Solorio, a Santa Ana city councilman with a master's degree from Harvard, is usually polished, savvy. Knows what to say, when to say it, especially when he hands out proclamations at council meetings. But this Sunday he's like an excited kid who can't stop talking. Or smiling.

He's going to get a proclamation of his own.

Officials will honor Solorio today for all that he has done for his fellow Michoacanos -- 1,500 miles away in Santa Ana. In an immigrant gateway where borders are blurred, Solorio provides a voice to a huge constituency that, until now, had no representation.

Orange County's population from Michoacan state is estimated to be more than 100,000, according to immigrant groups and consular officials. In Santa Ana, many believe Michoacanos dominate the population, thanks to long-established networks going back to the 1940s era of the bracero guest-worker program.

Word has quickly spread that one of their own has made it.

"He's a source of inspiration to us, he's the pride of Michoacanos, for our community. That's what Jose is to us -- an example," said Rafael Herrera Arreola, who traveled from Santa Ana to attend today's ceremony in which Solorio will be honored in the nearby city of La Piedad.

The recently formed Federation of Michoacanos in Orange County, led by Roberto Laurean, routinely turns to Solorio for help. Solorio, 33, attends meetings, speaks at events and is always available for visiting Michoacan dignitaries.

"I want to reconnect back with my roots, working with the Michoacan Federation and creating bridges of economic and cultural exchanges between Michoacan and Orange County," Solorio said. The federation, on average, sends one Michoacano a week to see Solorio at City Hall.

"It's someone who has a question or a code enforcement complaint or some improvement they would like to make to their home or to their business," Solorio said. "Roberto is a miracle worker in terms of reaching out and seeing what the needs of Michoacanos are, and he's not shy about bringing them to City Hall or calling me 10 times a week."

CHANGING DEMOGRAPHICS

Solorio's participation with fellow Michoacanos illustrates that the Mexican population has reached a critical mass in Santa Ana. In a city where half the population is foreign-born, people don't just identify themselves as Mexican but by what state, even by what city, they come from.

That's exactly how Jose Lucero, vice president of Honda Santa Ana, came to know Solorio.

"We became friends at a soccer game," Lucero said. "We started talking, and he asked where I was from. When I told him La Piedad, he said, 'You're kidding.' "

Two days later, Solorio gave Lucero a tour of the Boys and Girls Club.

"You were raised in the barrio, so you believe in helping kids, right?" he told Lucero, a self-made businessman with a sixth-grade education. "I brought you here because these kids need help."

Leo Chavez, professor of anthropology and director of Chicano/Latino studies at the University of California, Irvine, calls Solorio a "cultural broker" because of the "ability to see in different directions, even multiple directions, at once."

"He still has that dual consciousness, that ability to have empathy for the problems and issues of people who have migrated recently," Chavez said.

FROM THE FIELDS TO HARVARD

Solorio left Michoacan when he was 8 months old but always spent summers in Mexico.

One of six children, Solorio helped his parents, Federico and Maria Guadalupe, in the fields in Kern County where he grew up. He pruned citrus trees, pulled weeds and recorded harvest shipments.

"For better or worse, I got to work in the fields and learn about Cesar Chavez," Solorio said. "I went to one of his last strike rallies as an adult. It was a very inspiring point in my life and a great way for me to understand the role that a community leader can play."

Solorio helped his family at home, too. Since he spoke English best, he was the designated interpreter, answering the phone or translating parent-teacher conferences. He also helped his older sister with her homework -- so much so that by the time he got to her grade, he had already mastered the material.

"For me, it meant that I had a leg up among my peers, and that built up my self-esteem, and from that point on, I was a real consistent, straight-A student," Solorio said.

He graduated with a bachelor's degree in social ecology in 1992 from UCI, where as the student body president he led hunger strikes to protest fee increases.

Solorio later earned his master's degree in public policy at Harvard University -- a crowning achievement since his parents studied only up to the fourth grade.

GOING BACK TO THE VILLAGE

It's been 12 years since Solorio last visited the home village. A lot has changed. The roads are paved but, sadly, there are even fewer people now to travel them.

Thirty years ago, Solorio said, 10,000 people lived in this village, which survived off the pork industry. But stiff competition from the United States hurt the business, forcing many migrants to go north. Today, there are 1,000 people in town.

Around the holidays, when migrants come home, the population spikes, but it's temporary.

Solorio has changed a lot, too, since his last visit. He married Roselinn Lee, a high school teacher who has never visited his hometown. They have two young sons.

And Solorio is now a vegetarian.

Yes, a vegetarian. This is no biggie in California, but he will have some explaining to do in La Piedad, where he used to gorge on pork sandwiches. So far, nobody seems to mind. Officials in La Piedad even planned a special menu for him.