DETROIT JOURNAL

          By NICHOLE M. CHRISTIAN

          DETROIT, May 20 -- When he was a boy growing up in west-central
          Mexico, Jesús López and his brothers would load agave leaves onto the
          backs of donkeys and haul them to factories to be converted into
          tequila. Along the way, he would dream of living in a place with electricity and
          abundant water.

          But the dream never included Detroit. Mr. López had not even heard of
          it until the day that his brothers and many in Jesús María, his hometown,
          packed their bags and headed to America's Motor City. When an
          18-year-old Jesús López arrived here, he said recently, he was
          convinced that those who had come before him were crazy.

          "In those days, over here there was only burned-out houses," he recalled.
          "Who would want to live here? It was not good."

          But today, 18 years later, the view is much different in southwest Detroit,
          where many of this city's immigrants from Mexico live. So much has
          changed that it is being hailed as the nation's new Mexican boomtown.

          Scorched shells of houses are being bought and resurrected by scores of
          skilled Mexican tradesmen. They have snapped up dozens of the old
          Victorians and duplexes for as little as $20,000, and they have nearly
          doubled the population to 90,000.

          Their impact is undeniable. The three local Roman Catholic parishes have
          each added two weekend Masses in Spanish to accommodate the wave
          of new arrivals, who started showing up here six years ago, most directly
          from Mexico. They say they came to escape rising costs and growing
          hostilities against immigrants in Arizona, California and Chicago,
          and to reunite with older relatives who had been cashing in on Detroit's
          labor shortage for more than a decade.

          West Vernor Avenue, the main strip here, is lined with evidence: Mexican
          bakeries, paleta (Popsicle) shops, taquerías, tortilla factories, Mexican
          grocery stores. Since 1994, about 35 businesses have opened and
          dozens have expanded, business groups said. An $8 million mercado and
          welcome center will be built next year. Amid the abundance of Spanish
          signs, it is easy to overlook the golden arches of McDonald's.

          "Nobody over here saw the opportunity we did," said Mr. López, who
          left a 10-year construction career five months ago to open his own
          taquería. "Where we come from, you work all your life to have a house,
          a business, and you still don't get nowhere. That's why we work hard to
          make this good for us."

          The Rev. Donald Hanchon of Most Holy Redeemer Catholic Church
          said: "These are people who are determined to be an asset. You see it in
          the churches, where they're helping with children and services. They
          genuinely want to make this a better place."

          Father Hanchon said he believed that the renovation of run-down houses
          here was forcing drug dealers to find new dens.

          Like Mr. López, the majority of the families settling here come from
          villages in Jalisco, the Mexican state renowned for producing tequila,
          mariachi music and rancheros, Mexican cowboys. More than 40,000 of
          the people who live in southwest Detroit are either from Jalisco or have
          relatives there, said María Elena Rodríguez, who is a Detroit native and
          president of the Mexicantown Community Development Corporation.

          Some of the businesses are named to honor Jalisco and its towns, like
          Arandas, Jesús María and San Ignacio. The connection is so strong that
          caravans of adults and children load up their cars each January and return
          to the towns to celebrate las fiestas patronales, a 10-day festival held in
          honor of patron saints.

          "We go back, so they know we are proud to be from Mexico, from
          Jalisco," said Guadalupe Guzmán, 70, who moved here to work in the
          steel factories in 1950.

          He and his family return to Jesús María every year.

          It took two decades for 32-year-old José Zamudio to believe the stories
          that his brothers and sisters told about the untapped opportunities in
          Detroit. Even after five of them came here from San Ignacio, bought
          homes and found steady jobs, Mr. Zamudio refused to follow.

          "It was too ugly," he said. Mr. Zamudio and his wife, Anna, chose
          instead to go to Oakland, Calif. But after four years of working for $10
          an hour and living in cramped apartments, they gave up and moved back
          to Mexico. They built a home and had three children.

          Then two years ago, when the whole family had obtained visas, they
          decided to give the United States another try, in Chicago this time. They
          stayed three months. The pressure of having five people in a
          $600-a-month one-room apartment was too much. Now they are
          gambling on Detroit.

          So far, their gamble has paid off. Mr. Zamudio is earning $18 an hour as
          a bricklayer for a construction company. Six months ago, he and his wife
          bought a three-bedroom duplex for $40,000. But what thrills Mr.
          Zamudio most is seeing how much his family -- 5 brothers and sisters and
          19 nieces and nephews -- and others from back home have done to help
          rebuild southwest Detroit.

          "Look at it, it's like little Jalisco," he said. "We never knew people of our
          towns building this kind of business. They show if you fight and fight, you
          reach your dreams."