The Jastro Park HR4437 Protests: Part One - By N.L. Belardes

Early this morning I left for work and walked down ‘H’ Street in downtown Bakersfield, making my way to the office building where I work my day job. I already promised to take the day off, but being an ad guy in a marketing department I had to get one more advertisement out the door. In the automation industry, ads can be just as fast paced as anywhere else. So when Rockwell Automation called for an ad, I had to be there.

I got the ad done using an image of a Latino co-worker in a photo I took last year. We're a global company. It didn't matter that I was using a Latino in the photo. Ethnicity wasn't an issue. The photo just happened to be what was needed to help sell a particular product; to get the point across. And so begun my start in a day focused on many Latinos at the tip of the spear against HR 4437.

I knew this morning was going to be filled with walking and running, so I ate some oatmeal, grabbed a cup of hot cocoa, then stuffed my bag with a soda and two granola bars; one for myself, and one for Matt Munoz who was probably going to ask if I had any food anyways.

Today was the day of the march, the anti-HR4437 immigration rally at Jastro Park. I didn’t know how many people would be in attendance. I heard thousands would march. I only expected maybe one to two thousand.



When I left my office I headed down 17th Street and soon cut over and headed west down 18th Street. During a pleasant walk through downtown Bakersfield the world around me was strangely quiet. I sipped my cocoa and listened to birds chirp as I made my way down residential streets. I saw few signs of a protest: some stacked barricades on ‘F’ Street and didn’t see any more signs until I got closer to Jastro Park. Near tennis courts I saw two police cruisers parked with officers talking neighborly to each other.



Closing in on Jastro Park at around 9am I saw a few more stacked barricades, and then a long row of pylons where later police cruisers would line up.



The park itself was nearly abandoned. People were congregated on the western edge near tennis courts, a news van and two stages, one of them makeshift with speakers.







Nearby a lady from the Westchester community walked her dog. “You with the newspaper?” she asked.

“No.”

“A freelancer?”

“Yes.”

“I hear there’s going to be 5,000 to 10,000 people showing up. I was thinking I could go home and get a bunch of bottled water and sell it to make some extra cash.”

“Why not?” I said, plodding onto the still dewy grasses of the park.

“How many people do you think will be here?”

“Hundreds, I don’t know.” I knew many students were out of school. Would they attend? Who would make the brunt of the protesters this time around if not the students? I wondered just how organized this march would be. Although I distributed fliers online, the students helped create awareness during the first three local marches by skipping school and marching into downtown Bakersfield. Now would regular citizens follow suit?



Near the stage I met Dr. Gonzalo Santos of CSUB and Dr. Jess Nieto of the Heritage of America Educational and Cultural Foundation in a small group. I recently emailed Dr. Santos links to my previous write-ups. We spoke about literature, protests and had a good chuckle about the Jagels pictures I took. Would Jagels be brave enough to voyage into the eye of the media this time around? I didn’t think so.

Dr. Santos is tall, with metal-rimmed glasses, a straw hat and a white-tipped beard as bright as his shirt. He speaks gracefully, quietly, with an intelligent gleam in his eyes as he smiles often. His isn’t a fake political smile, but that of a man who pleasantly believes in the cause he stands for and the issues he stands against. His believability falls in his convictions that he determinedly speaks. Today he talked of xenophobia. He articulated his beliefs about illegals and what he believes is a proper path toward legalization.

At the heart of the movement, Dr. Santos was in a position to grant many interviews. He spoke on camera, on radio, on podcasts, and to reporters who diligently took notes. He spoke to the same reporter who I snapped pictures of while interviewing Jagels. Later I asked if she had seen the images. She mentioned she hadn’t. “I lost that notebook,” she said. She took down my website information again and then made one of the most interesting comments of the day. After we spoke for a few brief moments, I made mention that as a local writer and blogger I didn’t have a boss, that I could freely write whatever story I wanted. “I wish I had that freedom,” she said.



Ah, freedom of the press. Is it truly free to engage the public, the world around and interact with information gathering in the mind of the individual reporter?

Sometimes, perhaps.

But haven’t I stated before that reporters like Bakersfield Bob just chase the stories they’re told to chase?



Here I can take photos of news people from many news sources while hard at work. This isn’t the eye of traditional news sources: to show images of the media. This act alone is a form of journalistic truth: the media in relation to its subject matter. No longer just the eye and voice, the media is seen as an entity in relation to, and interacting with the very story it captures.





As the crowd slowly built I wandered among them and took photos. I took images of people I thought had made interesting signs and creative protester garb. I saw Francis Mayer, head shaved, in a coat and looking strangely dapper, a far cry from his once Humboldt County longhaired appearance.



I pointed him in the direction of Dr. Santos for an interview. He was with a director of sorts from Clear Channel. “Fancy I’d find you here, Belardes.” He carried audio equipment and introduced me to his Clear Channel associate.

“I’m just a local blogger,” I said.

“Don’t try to fool her, Nick. You’re a lot of things.”

What could I say? Like I told Matt Munoz later in the day from atop the main stage: I haven’t figured out my elevator speech yet.



Near a stack of UFW signs, I saw UFW workers writing on them. “May I carry one? I’m a supporter,” I said. I picked one up and stuffed it into my bag so that the flag would fly behind me.







Matt Munoz arrived and began gathering audio for Bakotunes Radio. I tossed him a granola bar and some time later he ate it on the stage while plugging in his podcast equipment.

That didn’t last long as we headed into the crowd.





I soon took some time to meet a Sikh spiritual leader Mr. Guru Jodha Khalsa and a Catholic priest, Father Pedro Umana then headed to the main stage, where water was handed out as music was played. A speaker soon began talking about the day’s events but spoke only in Spanish. After some time someone from the crowd yelled for him to speak in English. There was an angry response from the crowd, but he complied after that. Good timing too since Matt Munoz and I searched Gonzalo Santos itinerary to see if there were going to be any English speakers.





Matt and I then made our way onto the main stage. We took photos of Dolores Huerta, listened to a protest/unity song, listened to Gonzalos Santos stirring speech.











Afterwards there was a speech from the president of the UFW, and finally two prayers to open up the march, one by Khalsa, who spoke of the marchers being like a sweet flower in a full glass of milk, and then a prayer by Pedro Umana.











And so the march began…

This entry was posted by N.L. Belardes, on Monday, April 10, 2006. You can leave your response.