Interviewee: Rafael Rios

Interviewers: Ariani Diaz, Charlie Maldonado, Karina Garcia

May 10, 2024

AD: Hello, I'm Ariani Diaz, and here I am with Karina Garcia and Charlie Maldonado. We're here with Rafael Ríos at his home, conducting an oral history for the St. Helena Historical Society. Currently, it's 4:50 on May tenth, 2024. Let's start with our interview. First, we'd like to know who you are and about your life growing up.

RR: I'm Rafael Rios, born in '37 on August eighth. I grew up in El Llano; that's where I was raised. When I was a kid, my dad had plots of land and animals. When it came to planting, one would take the oxen and I would go behind planting corn or chickpeas, wheat, whatever it was. When that was done, I would take care of the animals. We had a lot of animals.

We had cows and goats. Then, almost the rest of my time, I spent it on the ranch.

I'm not sure how old I was the first time I came here (the US). At that time, the government gave lists to the towns for those who wanted to come to the United States. They sent them to be hired in a town called Empalme in Sonora.

There one would go to the offices. When I was about sixteen years old I decided I didn't want to be on the ranch anymore. So I arrived and I had some bad luck because I spent a long time there. We arrived and there were the coyotes, as they're called. They charged 300 pesos and they would get you through. But they took the money and there they took the group of people to the recruiting offices. And goodbye, you were left there without money, without anything. So, what did you do? There you were like that [inaudible].

AD: What were your main reasons for immigrating to the United States?

RR: Well, I wanted to explore, I wanted to come here to work. So, that time we stayed in Sonora. We spent a long time there helping a man who sold tacos. We didn't have a way to enter if we didn't have the (contract) paper. I helped him and then another man arrived from the city of Obregón. He said, ‘I need a group of boys who want to help me pick cotton. If you help me pick the cotton, I'll come and get you contracted.’ So we went to go help him. The man I was helping sell tacos said, 'Don't go, I'll get you the papers whenever you want to leave.' I said, ‘No, you wouldn’t be able to.’ We left.

There we picked the cotton. They gave us food, a place to sleep, and everything there. He brought us back to Empalme and from there we entered the US with the papers they gave us. Once you were there they took your picture. Then they made you take off your clothes and everything. They sprayed you with sulfur, I thought it was to come here [laughs]. And like that, here you were. You would pass through and they’d give you the paper. There were trucks waiting outside for the people who were leaving and they would bring you to Mexicali. They handed you over to the people here and they moved you to Central California.

And from there, then ranchers from Arizona would arrive, from Coachella, from here (Napa). The contractors wanted people and they would pick those that they wanted. We were chosen to pick cotton. It was scorching hot outside and we were with over 200 people headed to Arizona. The cotton was on giant bushes and then the heat was so uncomfortable and I didn’t know how to do anything. But we endured.

AD: Did you travel alone or with someone?

RR: No, many of us came from the same place. My nephews, cousins, they all came along. And from there, we helped each other. The first paycheck I got, I had 10 cents left, 75 cents left. I didn't know how to pick. They paid you 10 cents per pound of cotton. Then you brought a sack from here to there and tied it here [points to back] and dragged it in the sand and threw cotton in it. You know, cotton has to be picked with just three fingers. Not with the whole hand. With the whole hand, the thorns peck at you and your fingers bleed. You can't do it with gloves either.

There were women from Sonora there. One lady said to us, 'Oh, child, you won't do anything like that. You don't pick like that.' And she told me, ‘Look, do it like this, grab it, because with three fingers you'll grab the three sections and there you go picking, Otherwise, you'll cut your fingers.’

She gave us some lessons and we got used to it, but they paid very cheaply

Many left soon after because they didn't like it. We stayed there, working until it ended. Then we went back to Calexico and some people from Coachella needed workers so the guy who was in charge there said 'Boys, if you don't want to go to Mexico right now, there's a chance to stay here, there's work in Coachella. There are men arriving and they say they need it.’ Whoever doesn't want to go to Mexico, well, we signed up. The man said he wanted 12. He took us in his truck and took us to Indio, to Coachella. There we were on a ranch.

But it was scorching, the same heat that you can't stand.

In the house, we had one of those fans, those big ones that were spinning and water was dripping. That's when it refreshed us at night. So I stayed there. I always had my luck because since I was the youngest, the man said [inaudible]. The crew he brought there and took care of was Filipinos. They were picking, not picking, thinning the grapes. They were table grapes and everything goes to market so they need to leave it clean. The man told me, the oldest man was Filipino, his name was Ignacio. He said the others were going to go pick grapefruits, oranges, and lemons. He had a lot of work. Then I said no because of the boxes. But now it was my turn to stay there. He told me, each row of grapes has its valve. He says, the pump gives you twenty five valves. So you turn on twenty five, and check because sometimes the moles make holes and the water doesn't flow there, it flows where they send it. That’s what I did for work. The Filipinos were there too.

Here comes a hardworking man . . .

They were also very good people. They weren't-- It's just that sometimes…well once someone told me there was a Filipino boy from Indio, I think he was from there. He would tell the Filipinos, 'Oh, these bastard monkeys are coming!' And then he’d say, 'Eeeeh brother-in-law! Why do Mexicans treat Filipinos badly?' [mimicking Asian accent] How? Why are they treating you badly? Why? He says, 'When Mexicans see Mexicans come they say here comes a monkey!' And the Filipinos don’t say that, they say, 'here comes a hardworking man’(laughs).

But they came, and they were really good people. We had our houses apart but we became good friends. We went to pick grapefruit with them. So they invited me to dinner and everything. They had their orchestra there, right there. One of the drums was tin, and they played and danced there at night. It was, well, the heat was bothersome, but I was very comfortable.

I lasted two years. From there, I came back again but I no longer stayed in El Llano. So I went to Sacramento to pick tomatoes, and for the same reason, the 50-pound boxes full that we couldn't lift, we also had to take them out like from here to where the truck was [about thirty feet]. I was lucky that the cook and the lady liked me. The cook said, 'You can't do it. Go talk to the boss to see if they let you stay here to help me sweep and wash the dishes and set the table when people come to eat,' and he said yes, so I stayed there. They paid sixty cents an hour, but it was okay. Since the contracts were for forty five days, when I completed it I went to Mexico. Back to El Llano.

But I always felt like coming back, so I returned once again to Sacramento Valley

From there I came here, to St. Helena. I knew a man from there who worked as a butler in Cortland and there was a brother-in-law working there. He was with one of my sisters. I stayed working there. I went back to El Llano and then my boss got a card and sent it to me to immigrate. So I took the card and went to Mexico and yes, I emigrated to St. Helena alone. But then he said to me, 'don't you want to bring your family?' He says, ‘I'll give you work until you die.’ I said, ‘well if you help me, then yes.’

AD: What was his name?

RR: Frank Wood. I spent forty eight years working with him.

CM: How was the work with him?

RR: Well, I did a bit of everything. At that time, he asked me if I wanted to bring my family to immigrate. He gave me the letters and we went to Mexico, there to the American Embassy. Then we came with Ofelia, Manuel, and little Rafael (his children). Here Lidia was born, and Rosa Martha was born here. And Alberto, on a trip we made, well, he was born there (Mexico). He came here when he was little, too. Afterwards, I didn't leave Saint Helena. Everyone was born here.

Everyone went to school here, except me. I didn't go to school

But I worked happily. I worked, and they paid me very well. I learned everything: pruning, grafting, picking, planting, everything. I did the spraying work, grafting, and all that. I spent months working all night, me and another guy who was my friend, who has passed away, your uncle Pancho. From there things weren't going well until now because he passed away, the boss.

CM: What was his name?

RR: Frank Wood.

AD: And what winery did he own?

RR: He owned Freemark, he had a part of Freemark and Rutherford Hill

He had his ranch there in Rutherford, the property, and he worked on many ranches because he was a contractor. I was very lucky because before, the Italians didn't like us and they made you go far away when you were grafting. They wanted you to be like ten or fifteen plants behind, not to get close. They would graft and then leave, and then you would arrive and cover the plant, and they didn't want you to see us (the Mexicans).

But as things started to open up a lot and there was a great need for workers

Mexicans started grafting. The Italians ended because the Mexicans were eager to work and be here, and they paid less. So, they started to push them out and hire Mexicans. I was also very comfortable there. There were people from El Llano there. There was a guy, the supervisor, named Gary, Gary Meed. I taught myself but somehow we understood each other (through the language barrier).

One time we were uncovering with a crew of about thirteen of us. He would come and take a tractor, one of those small Ford tractors and he would drive the Ford and uncover the plants. We would arrive and cut the tops and put cardboard. One day he went to have his coffee at a cafe in St. Helena.

We were there in Zinfandel at the ranch and everyone was sitting there, but he didn't arrive to tell us to get to work. 'Get on the tractor!' One said, 'No, you get on.' 'But if he comes and finds us sitting here, he's going to get angry.' 'Well, let him get angry.' So, he said, 'Just get on.' It was a man from El Llano who didn't like me. I got on anyway. But I fell there and there. From then on I always got on the tractor. I took it and went around and around [laughs]. Then Gary arrived and all the workers ran. He says, ‘Who took the tractor?’ Right away they said, ‘Well, Rafael did!’ They thought he was going to fire me.

But he says to me, ‘Leave the shovel and come. Get on the tractor. Do you know how to drive?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ and I was going to say I can even drive planes [laughs]. Imagine this big tractor, but instead, it was a small one. At that time, they were paying us twenty five. Now when we headed to the ranch, I understood what he said, "From now on, we're going to pay you about seventy five." These guys slowly started to realize, and they started to get angry. But it wasn't my fault no one wanted to ride the tractor. I took it, and from there on, I wasn’t shoveling or anything.

They taught me to drive caterpillars, to drive the tractor, to spray, to endure the nights

We spent nights working, me and your uncle Pancho. I lasted forty eight years already, until the boss died. But they were very good people. Then I started helping Manuel, my son. He wanted to start the company he has. He asked if I would help him and I said I would. I helped him buy a machine to start putting in irrigation systems and everything. He was the supervisor of Sinegal Estate by Doug White for ten years until he decided to build the company. I said alright.

CM: And what's his company called?

RR: Rios Farming. And that's it.

So, I stayed there to continue to help him when he got ranches to work on. He succeeded. Then there was extra work after the machine for me to pull out the old vines. I bought a small tractor and Alberto was eager to drive it. He helped Manuel with everything and although he didn’t go to school, he knew everything.

Afterwards, Manuel told me he wanted to leave and that he was the brother of the one who lives in that house over there. I knew him because he was in school and he worked at the ranch. The boss gave him a chance to go in the afternoons to thin plants for money. I had a very good friendship with him but he didn't want Manuel to leave. Manuel had already told him that he wanted to start his own business. Reluctantly, he said, ‘go ahead.’ Since I spent eleven years helping with the helicopter spraying, everyone knew me. Then I was farmer of the year, so way more people knew me.

CM: What year did you win farmer of the year?

RR: I think your grandma remembers. Ofelia, What year was it?

OR: What thing?

RR: When was I farmer of the year?

OR: Oh, I don’t know, Rafa. I can’t remember

RR: Oh, darn it.

OR: I think it was in 2001.

RR: Anyway, they knew me everywhere. Everyone.

They invited me when Gray Davis was governor to eat at the Capitol. We went to a feast and it accommodated forty people. Many went with me there. One time we went to Fairfield. Afterwards, the whole ranch, the whole valley knew me. Everyone. Did you write that down? [Motions to the notebook, laughs].

AD: What was Saint Helena like during that time? Like in the seventies.

RR: Well, it seemed like a little ranch. From the bridge to here 1118 Hudson Street St.Helena, was Saint Helena and there was nothing beyond that, up to Beringer. Then the road. There was barely enough space for anything for a donkey loaded with firewood. It didn’t fit two cars. It wasn’t a road, it was a path. \

Then they started with the grapes. Before there were only plums and walnuts and very few grapes. Only the Christian Brothers, Mondavi and I don't remember which other, just four wineries. That's all there was around here. It started to ramp up.

AD: In the sixties?

RR: It was like the seventies when everything started to rise every year.

Then my boss formed Freemark and Rutherford Hill wineries. Every year more and more. There were many plums, many walnut trees. The women and men worked picking walnuts and plums. But the grapes started to take over and everyone started to cut down trees and plant grapes.

Either way I was very comfortable here. When I brought the family, well, I was even more comfortable [laughs]. I already had all the kids here. But it was very beautiful at that time because there weren't so many people and it was cheap. Now there's a lot of money, a lot of work, and a lot of people. But those times were very nice.

St. Helena has always been beautiful. Everything was very, very cheap.

A shirt cost you fifty cents. Some regular boots were about three dollars, and now they're worth one hundred. So I used to go to the store like that, before I had a family. Ten cents were worth a dozen tortillas. Then more people started coming and then everything went up. But it's very nice here, I think it's one of the best places around. Saint Helena is the best.

AD: And what changes have you seen in the Main Street businesses? The Main Street businesses..what changes have you seen in the stores and restaurants?

RR: Well, a lot, well, they raise prices by a dollar every week [laughs].

So many changes. And get this, we used to go to Safeway and fill a bag with twenty dollars. They would get candies, some of this and that, Manuel with little toy guns. Now the changes. If people arrived, they raised prices by a dollar. More people arrived, another dollar. It continues the same. People tell me, ‘Fridays are cheaper and there are more discounts.’ Cheaper? It’s not cheap, I tell you. It was more pleasant back then when there were fewer people around. Either way it's nice here.

AD: How did you get around the city? What type of transportation or car did you have?

RR: For work? Well, because when I brought them (my family) I bought a car right away. But for work the boss had to move you around. Later, when I was working for a while they gave me a truck. I already had a higher position. I went around in the truck checking on people and at night I always went out patrolling when they sprayed.

CM: What are your feelings about adapting to a new language, to a new culture?

RR: At the beginning, people here didn't speak Spanish. In the stores you had to mumble your way through. But as time passed, you began to understand what they were saying. It helped a lot that my boss didn't speak Spanish and he didn't help me either. Also when I was with that man for eleven years who came to sow and spray with his plane, he didn't speak Spanish, only English. I always had good luck and ended up with good people but once a boss told me back in Napa, 'you don't know how to speak English?' [mocking voice], and who knows what else he said.

So I said, ‘well you don't speak Spanish', he said, 'what?'

I said, 'I understand what you tell me and you have the head of a donkey because you don't understand Spanish.’ They just laughed at that. But he liked it and he viewed me very well, I mean, with everything. I never had a bad boss, none. I had many because I helped a lot of them to graft everything. Like everyone else, well, I don't like to go around. But you started to chat and some wanted to aim a joke at you so I made two back [laughs]. That's why I always tell you, my life, it's never been sad for me. Now, you see, if life wants to give me this, it's alright. I’m strong. Everyone, don't you see Albie? He's already big, how good, just like you.

AD: How did this influence the way you raised your children and their values?

RR: My children? Well, with the education I had, that's what I was teaching them. I was never tough on them. They were always more so with me. But no, I loved them all very much. We never lacked anything. That's another thing, they always had what they wanted. I was very comfortable.

The ones who wanted to study like Rosa Martha, she wanted to study, so she studied. Briana studied too. Ofelia, well, no, she already had her boyfriend and didn't want to study anymore. Rafael also managed school, and he became a lawyer. He finished. I begged Alberto a lot to go to school, but he lasted like three years, right? He didn't want to so he chose to work.

And Manuel, well, Manuel from the beginning he told me no. I took him to work with me, all three of them (the boys) on Sundays. If they wanted, I took all of them. The girls went, they spread a bedsheet for the little ones on the avenue. They took an order and carried the poles. They all turned out well. I haven't had one turn out bad, nor have I stopped them from the truth of what goes on. And they are fine. Me, I am already old. But yes, we have lived very comfortably. With my grandchildren too [chuckles].

CM: What was your own experience [chuckles] dealing with discrimination here in the United States?

RR: Well, look, there were a lot of people who didn't like you, well, mainly Mexicans, dislike from both Italians and Americans. But the Italian began to see that the Mexican came with the desire to work and worked. So the boss, seeing that the Mexican worked more than the Italian, he began to remove the Italians. So, no, never. We never had employers like that other than the fact that they would go eat with their own race. There’s been a lot of Italians here from the beginning, since I arrived. However, they always had the chance to get paid more than the Mexicans.

There were employers like that. Not necessarily employers, but foremen.

The boss almost never got involved. But yes, it always had a bad thought behind it [discrimination]. Here the good thing is that if you work, you have everything. If you don't work, you have nothing. That's very good because that's what I tried to teach the boys, that they learned to work and take care of their work. I always had a good job and earned enough money. It was enough for me to give them a soda [chuckles]. I was very comfortable. Now I'm older, right son? [looks to CM]. My life has been beautiful. I have never had problems with my wife. I have never had problems with my children.

AD: Have you seen progress in the way members of the community treat migrant workers here?

RR: Well, they treat them badly. All the workers who work more and more and are not paid well. But little by little people began to defend themselves. There was no remedy, they had to put up with it because sometimes when work was needed from a known boss, the foreman would start scolding or offending you until you quit the job. Then the boss got angry because the work was needed and the foreman wouldn't do it. So they started treating everyone more or less well and no more than that.

I grafted for the Mondavis, with so many . . .

Here in the Napa Valley, no. In other places, yes, some who came told me they were treated very badly. But not here. Here I think I worked with most of the bosses here. I met almost all of them because I went with the crew that brought grafting. Everyone knew me and many looked for me to work. Now they didn't want me anymore [laughs].

CM: Did you have any coworker or friend who was influential to you?

RR: All the guys, I got along well with all of them, those who worked with me. I never told them though. Because, for example, every year there were new people to teach. I taught them and I never scolded them. I told them, ‘take your time, you don't have to rush. Do this, this is how it has to be done.’ I first gave each one a plant or two. I told them, ‘pay attention, how are the cuts going? How are you going to do this? You don't have to rush. When you learn then speed up. But do the job well. That's what counts.’ I helped a lot of people find jobs and they made me famous. They made me agricultural worker of the year [laughs].

CM: And how far did you go in school? Did you go to school when you were younger?

RR: I went a few, I think one or two months. It's just that I didn't think about school. I left. They sent me to school but the teacher at the school where I went, she was a very scolding old lady. I had a few mischievous friends. They always wanted to cause trouble. Sometimes they would take the hand of the teacher and hit her with a ruler twelve times. And the sun.

Until the sun goes down, you have to stay there to study. But later I didn't go to school anymore. I purely dedicated myself to taking care of the animals and everything. Here I didn't go to school either. Now nobody makes me a fool anymore because I learned when I was older, as the song says. But everything can be learned if you're willing. If not, you remain an apprentice. I have taught myself everything here since I arrived. I wanted to know, to learn everything. But everything, it wasn't something that stuck with me.

AD: In what way do you think your family's migration has made you a stronger person?

OR: When he brought his family here, he felt the support. Of course, there are three of us and my mom. And for him, I think they gave him more to work with because we were here, and he didn't have the worry of having a family in Mexico and he would just be here. So she felt supported by her family.

RR: And here I didn't have any problems. With anyone, no problems. But I was, yes, I had some who were trying to get rid of me behind my back. They wanted to get rid of me, but they couldn't, because the boss was a very good person. One time an issue occurred with me and a group of guys who were also from El Llano. Immigration was coming and it had already been going around. They took one of my brothers.

So these guys had already been causing trouble and putting me in a bad light. And so then, because at that time there were coyotes, they would come out, take you to the border, and by morning, we would be here. You grab a coyote and you come back. Those guys went and said that I had paid my brother's entire fortnight, that I was like this and that.

I told them no so I went to the office and the boss also went. I told them, ‘let's see, have the secretary tell me which days I paid Luis.’ She told them, ‘Here’s the check. Luis worked six days and six are already here. He didn't give him a single penny.’ And the boss said the same thing. And after that he said ‘ I’m the one who brought them here! I got them the card to immigrate’ But the group of guys (causing trouble) didn't last because then the boss said, ‘Do you know what? So you don't have any problems, I'm going to send them to a friend of mine over there across the river who wants a tractor driver’ He sent one other there and another Verenchi. He said, ‘Why do you want them here?’ He had a very good way of dealing with it because, for example, every month or so, we would all meet at the shop.

The son of the boss would bring sodas and some beer as well as burritos and snacks. Then the boss would say, ‘Now that we're all together, who is it that Rafael has wronged or what has he done?’ Everyone clammed up, no one said anything. He said, ‘Speak up, speak up, I'm the boss. Here I am the one who gives the orders and everything, it's me. He (Rafael) has to give them because I sent him.’ But no, no. Even a godmother wanted to fire me [chuckles]. I'm telling you. Anyway he (the boss) was a very good person and I got along very well with him. All the years I spent with him, I was very comfortable.

AD: Did you emigrate with the Bracero program?

RR: No, well, I emigrated from the capital of Mexico.

OR: But through the Bracero program or through whom?

RR: No, they were contracts that Lorenzo [Wood] sent to me.

OR: Anyway, back then if somebody requested you, Laurie Wood had a company and he submitted paperwork saying Rafael was a good person and someone he wanted to (sponsor). He gave him the documentation and that's how he was able to immigrate and come here. Later on, he helped him bring the family. The sponsorship. He sponsored my father.

RR: We made the requests at the American Embassy

They said they would call me wherever they arrived. Soon they notified me that the letters were here. Then we had to return right away to Mexico again because he was responsible for the family, work, and everything. He took care of that, so that's how I emigrated and there they gave us the papers at the embassy and they told me, ‘You have three months to cross the border.

If you want to be here in Mexico, you can.’ Well no, we came over. We lived there in the Red Barca, as they call it, there was a house. We lived there for many years. Then from there, we lived there by the Vela Box. Up there he (the boss) had a ranch where he worked. Then they gave us another house.

We were already comfortable. We lasted twenty-five years there.

Then we bought this one, because Rafael bought a house first, then Manuel and Alberto, and we were just there [chuckles]. When we came to see this house, it was an Italian gentleman’s. We came with my son Rafael. We asked him how much he’d sell it for. I don't remember how much but he said the lowest he’d go was 240 (thousand). We didn’t negotiate, we gave him 240. I gave him 240 for the house[laughs]. But it was fine. Then Ofelia got a house, Manuel, Rafael, Alberto followed.

RR:[Laughs]. Are you done?

AD: Is there anything you would like to add that hasn't been asked?

CM: Let's see, anything else you want to say before we finish.

AD: About your experience in St. Helena.

RR: If you guys think there's something else to add? If you guys think you’re good, then that's fine. If there’s anything else you think you need me to comment on, I'm here.

AD: Thank you very much.

CM: Thank you.