Returning immigrants hope farming can revive Mexican towns

By ALFREDO CORCHADO / The Dallas Morning News

LA ERRE, Mexico – Decades ago, José López's father emptied this town by recruiting hundreds of local men to take jobs in the United States. Now the young Mr.
López, a U.S. labor contractor, is trying to keep their descendents from leaving.

Since 2000, Mr. López has pushed a farm experiment that, if successful, could change the destiny of thousands of young Mexicans pondering an illegal jump to the
United States.

So far, he's lured Taylor Fresh Foods, which is based in Salinas, Calif., and has regional offices in Dallas. Three other U.S. farm companies are looking at making
similar moves.

It's been a three-way marriage of sorts. Taylor provides technology, while Mr. López helps recruit local growers and their fertile land and lines up workers. Mr.
López has hired about 300 of the estimated 2,000 people who work for Taylor in Mexico.

In doing so, Mr. López hopes to inject new economic life into his birthplace, the town of Chupícuaro, and surrounding villages such as La Erre, a dust-blown
community in the central state of Guanajuato where skinny, barking street dogs outnumber humans.

"It may not sound like much," Mr. López said over a dinner of steak and rice. "But it's a job, and this is just the beginning. We're pioneering something new here."

Mr. López's efforts reflect a nascent trend in which successful Mexican immigrants are trying to make a difference back home. From milk farms in Oaxaca to coffee
plantations in Chiapas to a high-tech corridor along the U.S.-Mexico border, Mexican-Americans and the Mexican government are deepening a series of economic
initiatives that are resulting in more jobs for Mexico.

"These immigrants are agents of prosperity who represent regional development for the communities of their ancestors or for those they left behind," said Dr. Miguel
Moctezuma, an immigration expert specializing in binational trends at the Autonomous University of Zacatecas. "They're keenly interested in slowing migration and
improving the quality of life back home."

Of course, they're not about to stop the northward flow of migrant workers. The lure of the United States remains strong, since Mexicans can earn far more north of
the border than they can at home. More than 400,000 enter the United States illegally each year.

The 300 jobs that Mr. López has created in La Erre and surrounding communities pay less than the U.S. minimum wage but nearly three times more than Mexico's
minimum wage of about $5 a day. Here, 15-year-old Vicente Cauces has put off plans to join his two brothers working illegally in Dallas as a waiter and gardener.

"If it wasn't for this job, I'd be in Texas, too," said the soft-spoken teen, who earns about $100 a week picking lettuce. And here at home, he pays no rent and
doesn't keep his mother, Reyna, up at night with worry. She hasn't seen her other two sons in nearly six years.

Mr. López was able to lure Taylor Fresh Foods, North America's largest fresh produce supplier, to the area by pointing out that labor costs are 50 percent cheaper
and that vegetables, such as lettuce, grow year-round.

Mr. López is responsible for recruiting workers, providing harvesting equipment and helping secure land for Taylor. The company is responsible for providing
technology, including giant coolers, and for trucking the produce to the United States. Weekly, Taylor is trucking about $250,000 worth of lettuce, broccoli and
onions, and is looking to expand into carrots and celery.

'Tons of advantages'

Executives say the region is full of promise for the multibillion-dollar agriculture industry.

"Mexico has tons, just tons of advantages," said Glenn Fry, a representative of Taylor Farms de Mexico, as the company is known here. Mr. Fry commutes
between the company's regional office in Dallas and Guanajuato. "There's an abundant labor supply, ideal weather, proximity to the United States, and hard-working
people."

In the late 1940s, Mr. López's father, José López Camacho, packed up and left to work in the sugar beet fields of California, as one of 3 million Mexican guest
workers called braceros, or strong arms. His tireless work so impressed his bosses that they asked whether there were more men like him back home. Yes, he
responded.

Mr. López became the region's main labor middleman, enticing a legion of eager men northward. Whole families – among them the López family – left Chupícuaro,
which became almost a ghost town.

Today, Chupícuaro is a lonely place, except at Christmas when hundreds return to stroll down the streets like strangers searching for their roots.

"My father gave our town a future, an opportunity," the younger Mr. López said, "but at a high price for our community."

Mr. López isn't trying to create local jobs for entirely benevolent reasons. This is a good business, he said, although he and Taylor declined to discuss financial terms.

But he also returned to make a difference. Mr. López said he wants to create jobs for hundreds, if not thousands, more in a region known as one of the largest
exporters of men and women to the United States.

Trickling back

A few farmworkers have trickled back from California to the towns they left years ago. Among them is Eduardo "Lalo" Rios, 44, who headed for California as a
teenager in search of dollars. Now married with three children, Mr. Rios is one of Mr. López's field managers, supervising five crews, mostly women whose
husbands once worked for him illegally in the United States.

Sometimes when he stands in the middle of fields dotted with tractors and lettuce harvesting machines, most imported from California, Mr. Rios said he grows
nostalgic. The grassy hills dotted with shrubs and oak trees are similar to those surrounding the San Joaquin and Salinas valleys. Those areas, along with Monterey
Bay, are known as the salad bowl of America. But he doesn't miss the nasty stares and comments his compatriots attract as illegal immigrants, or the accusations of
"stealing U.S. jobs" that anti-immigrant groups make.

"This has to work," Mr. Rios said, shaking his head. "Otherwise Mexico will empty out into an uncertain future in the United States."

Others remain hopeful, though realistic. Arturo Martínez, who picked vegetables in California before working for Mr. López, is trying to convince his 17-year-old
son, Arturo Jr., to stay in Mexico.

"At that age, going to the United States isn't just about necessity but also about adventure," he said. "It's a tradition too difficult to break overnight."

Paulina Cauces, 20, works as an assistant supervisor for Mr. López and said she's happy to have a good job – unlike other young people who toil in nearby Dolores
Hidalgo, making pottery for $50 a week

She even has a cellphone, one she shows off with pride. Life is good. And if her job disappears, she already has Plan B.

"I guess you can say that indirectly I may also be training for a better job in the United States," she said, her smile fading. "If all else fails."