Anytime between 6 a .m. and 4 p.m. seven days a week, a pickup truck may swing through a parking lot and snag a worker for a carpentry or painting job.
Based on their field work, they wrote the lilting ballad "Sweet Chariot," which will be included in the "Chicago for the People" CD released at an April 30 concert at the Logan Square Auditorium, 2539 N. Kedzie. (Tickets are $10 at soundcultureseries.blogspot.com.) They will debut the song at the event. Also appearing will be Los Vicios De Papa, the Black Bear Combo and DJ David Chavez.
Saraiya and Soltys sing, in part:
"Take the time to get to see/ The man I am, the warrior in me
And together we can both shake hands."
The corner first was popular in the early 1960s with Jewish day laborers. The wide Avondale avenues are now a narrow mashup of a bar called Cafe Lura and Maryla Polonaise, a restaurant popular with Eastern Europeans and Latinos. Many workers find respite at a Dunkin' Donuts on
On a recent day, about 25 workers milled about a gas station parking lot and sidewalk. The owner of the station declined comment.
Two police cars arrived, and officers gently asked the workers to move to public property.
"There's a stereotype that goes along with these men -- and there are women in the industry as well," Soltys said. "People drive by and assume they're alcoholics, sexual predators. A lot of them don't speak English, so how are they going to say, 'I'm a hard worker and I will build a house for you for close to nothing'? A lot of employers take advantage of these guys for that reason. That's not something they necessarily complain about as long as they get treated fairly and get their pay. It's things that come with it -- not being covered by insurance, getting thrown in jail for standing on the corner."
Writing a song about people from another country, most of them men, took the women a long time. "For us it was a sensitivity level," Soltys said. "When we started the weather was below zero. Putting ourselves in the worker's role was a challenge. But we're all looking for the same thing -- to feed ourselves and our families."
The songwriters learned that some laborers have a musical background. Saraiya and Soltys hope to re-record "Sweet Chariot" with workers playing instruments and singing Spanish vocals.
The Latino Union of Chicago is a not-for-profit advocate for the workers. The union also protects workers at hiring sites in
Carpenter Santiago Montsdeoca, 42, said through translation, "We are on this corner for daily survival. We want to provide for our children. This has been a day labor corner for 50 years. Lots of us live here, some of us even live on the South Side. The police get confused as to why we're here. It would be good if police and workers could come to an agreement for people outside our corner who are causing problems."
Complicating matters is that the gas station is on the dividing line of the 30th and 31st wards. "The day laborers are really not a problem," said Ald. Ariel E. Reboyras (30th). "They're just trying to get work. The bulk of them are in the 30th Ward. Our constituents don't say good things. But its not entirely day laborers. People are mixing apples and oranges. We have day laborers and homeless. A handful of day laborers do hang around until the wee hours and start drinking near the Copernicus [Senior] Center [at 3160
Later this year a new elementary school will open at 3231
"We will not allow folks to hang out there when kids are walking to school," Reboyras said. "I've tried to shift them to a different corner. The gas station owner is working with them. He's new. I went to school with the last owner, and it's unbelievable what he used to do for the guys. But at that time the majority of them were Polish.
"That corner has a lot of history."
Ald. Ray Suarez (31st) couldn't be reached for comment Tuesday.
In the past as many as 120 workers have gathered on the corner. Montsdeoca said that on a good day about 15 to 20 jobs will be found. Elisa Ringholm, development director of the Latino Union, added, "On this corner you'll see workers from
In 2006, the
Gretchen Moore is a neighborhood resident who frequently visits the corner, bringing bread and clothes to the workers. "Their stories make a woman cry,"
Between 1982 and 1990,
Maria Hernandez said husband Joel looks for work on the corner. He has been a construction worker for 15 years. "Even for people like my husband, who has years of experience, because of police abuse we've seen on this corner, jobs have dropped," said Hernandez, who lives west of
"I shed tears for the injustice that happens here."
Photo: Brian Jackson, Sun-Times / Maria Hernandez, pictured last week at
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