Ethnic Identities in Arizona Copper Camps, 1880–1920

Phylis Cancilla Martinelli

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Martinelli, Phylis Cancilla. Undermining race : ethnic identities in Arizona copper camps, 1880–1920 / Phylis Cancilla Martinelli. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-8165-2745-8 (hard cover) 1. Copper miners—Arizona—Social conditions— 19th century. 2. Copper miners—Arizona—Social conditions—20th century. 3. Copper mines and mining—Arizona—History—19th century. 4. Copper mines and mining—Arizona—History—20th century. 5. Immigrants—Arizona—Social conditions—19th century. 6. Immigrants—Arizona—Social conditions—20th century. 7. Arizona—Ethnic relations. 8. Arizona—Race relations. I. Title. HD9539.C7U5814 2009 331.7’622343089009791—dc22 2009024821

Publication of this book is made possible in part by the proceeds of a permanent endowment created with the assistance of a Challenge Grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities, a federal agency.

C Manufactured in the United States of America on acid-free, archival-quality paper containing a minimum of 30% post- consumer waste and processed chlorine free.

14 13 12 11 10 09 6 5 4 3 2 1 Contents

List of Illustrations vi Preface and Acknowledgments vii Introduction: Social Change in the West 1

1 Arizona’s Economic and Social Development: Courting Copper 15 2 The Arizona Tango: The Arrival of EuroLatins—Italians and Spaniards 32 3 Encountering the Sting of Racism: Micro- and Macro-Level Violence 54 4 What’s in a Name? Wop Alley or Canyon of Salé? 78 5 Bisbee: The Whitest White Camp 102 6 The Latin Camp: The Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf District 133 7 Conclusion 165

Notes 171 Bibliography 197 Index 221 Illustrations

Arizona’s mining towns 20 Tent City, Globe, ca. 1897 80 Bert and Ernesta Vidano’s grocery store, Globe, ca. 1920 93 A bocce game at the Wedge Saloon in North Globe 98 The Italian Band gathered at Barney’s Yard, Panamá, Globe, 1907 99 Baptiste Caretto in his Brewery Gulch saloon 106 Immigrant children attend Bisbee Elementary School, 1898 115 The Medigovich and Nobile Store in Brewery Gulch, ca. 1900 122 Tintown, a Mexican barrio in the Warren District, Bisbee 125 Dominic DeGrazia and his son Ettore (Ted DeGrazia), ca. 1914 149 A wedding party of Calabrese immigrants in Clifton, ca. 1920 152 Italian immigrants on a World War I patriotic float in Clifton 154 Rocco Zappia’s bakery in Clifton, ca. 1917 160 Preface and Acknowledgments

The beginnings of this book idea are difficult to pin down to one source. I am by academic training a sociologist and have been since my under- graduate days. The sociology that I learned dealt with pressing societal problems, social change, and social inequality. A broad historical perspective was necessary to understand contemporary society going back to the Industrial Revolution in France, Germany, and England, where pioneers like Auguste Comte, Emile Durkheim, Karl Marx, Georg Simmel, and Max Weber worked to understand a world that was far different from agricultural society. My interest in ethnicity grew from coming of age during the era of the civil rights movement and the Black Power, Red Power, and Chicano movements. It was only later that my interest in my own ethnicity surfaced. My grandparents first made me aware of social inequality in the social system, which indirectly led me to find a niche in sociology. My maternal grandfather, Frank Nizza, was an ardent Socialist and anticlerical immigrant. Fleeing an intellectually stifling life in a small Italian town, he left a comfortable, but stagnant, position as a second son to work as a laborer in the United States. In his autobiography he recounted the hardships he endured as an immigrant and the prejudice and discrimination he fought. More salient to this book is his account of a stint as a laborer in an Alaskan gold mine, having left San Francisco six months after the April 1906 earthquake and fire. In his words (translated into English):

For six months I sailed along the coast; then I left for Australia. The voyage lasted one month, and then we stopped a month at Sydney, Australia, to repair the boat. I returned to San Francisco, then I left for Seattle, Washington. From Seattle I embarked for Alaska as a passenger. Alaska is found opposite Siberian Russia. I landed at Nome [Alaska] the 12th of June—I had to walk 250 miles—there was no transportation since the sea was frozen. It was necessary to walk in that desert of snow and ice carrying shelter and supplies, and to sleep on the ground, on the ice. Having arrived at the destination, I worked sixty days separating the gold from the dirt. The existence was not too bad; I slept under a tent. I had to wear gloves and a veil on my face, because in the midst of the snow and ice, the mosquitoes did not give me peace. The climate was very cold, but I saw the sun twenty-three hours a day. It was summer because in winter it is always night. We were a short distance from the North Pole. I returned to Seattle, Washington, and worked a short while in the lumber mill. I saw that traveling over the world I did not make much progress; therefore I returned to San Francisco, and I established myself there.1

My paternal grandmother, Rosa Chirco Cancilla, using the oral tradition of morality tales, taught me what it was to be a “woman of seriousness.” Both grandparents preached messages of racial tolerance, for each of them had been befriended by African Americans in their early years in this country. Before my grandfather headed to California, a padrone (labor broker) sent him to Florida, where he opted to board with African Americans, who, he warmly recalled, treated him like family. My grandmother’s story was more dramatic. My great-grandparents on my father’s side left Sicily to look for work in New Orleans, since immigrant labor was used to replace free black labor after the Civil War. Rosa recalled that in 1891, when a lynch mob swept through the Italian quarter of New Orleans, it was their black neighbors who hid them. In that infamous event, eleven Sicilians were killed. When several Western historians recently began writing about violence toward Italians, my family history encouraged me to explore this research further, with startling, disquieting results. The next dimension of my interest came as a Californian transplanted in the 1970s to Arizona, where my interest in ethnic history led me to work on the Phoenix History Project under the direction of Professor Wesley Johnson. Along the way I met Arizona State University archivist Christine Marin, who piqued my interest in ethnicity in Arizona mining towns and who has kept me on track with her continuing help. I began doing oral histories of Italians living in mining towns because the importance of preserving their stories was clear to me. Along the way, my work on my doctorate in sociology started. Part of my doctoral pro- gram involved studying for a language examination, which I decided to take in Italian. This fortuitous choice led me to Helen Bechetti Dover in

viii Preface and Acknowledgments a language class we took together. She was the second authentic native from an Arizona mining town I met and, like Chris Marin, became an enthusiastic supporter of my research. Not only did Helen do a number of interviews for me but she accompanied me on trips to mining towns. (As a city girl, I was a little jittery about driving into Arizona’s foreboding Pinal Mountains to Globe.) Along the way, many other Arizona natives granted interviews, and some even shared precious photos. Janette Carretto Bowling took time to show me Globe and introduce me around, and in Tucson, Monica Zappia Young assisted me and shared her enthusiasm for family history, introducing me to her extensive Padilla and Cordova clan as well. Delving deeper into Arizona’s past, I discovered the state archives under a beautiful copper dome in Phoenix and spent hours there, labori- ously copying information from the Great Registers of Voters for Arizona, in the pre-laptop era, to compile a database on transmigration and residential patterns of Italians throughout the state. Data were collected on 560 men born in Italy; for 170 of them, additional occupational information was also available. Eventually, I was able to provide richly detailed portraits of some of these immigrants by combining the transmigration material with information gleaned from various other sources. Although the study was presented at a conference, unfortunately it was not published. Opportunities to pursue Arizona history kept popping up. I had a chance to do research on the Roosevelt Dam labor force and act as a con- sultant on ethnic groups for a new museum in Phoenix. Each project built on the previous one, allowing me to develop layers of understanding about the role of Italians in a social environment far different from that of the East Coast, typically associated with this ethnic group because of the heavy concentrations of Italians, and different from the environment Italians encountered in San Francisco, which is often associated with upward mobility. I realized the Arizona setting was unique in many ways. The generally sparse population at the time under study made it possible to do work that encompassed all of Arizona. Immigrants began arriving in Arizona in an early period, many from northern Italy; they often lived in racially mixed communities separated from all but poor whites, and they occupied an intermediate status in the racial hierarchy of the state. Of particular importance was the interaction of Italian immigrants with Mexicans. An interest in the interaction of these two groups had begun with my master’s thesis on a changing neighborhood in San Francisco, where upwardly mobile Mexican Americans had moved into an Italian enclave.

Preface and Acknowledgments ix In 1987 it seemed my Arizona days were over. My family and I returned to California, and I immersed myself in sociological research once again. However, I unexpectedly found myself traveling to Arizona frequently, in a commuter marriage. The field of whiteness studies beckoned, and when the end of the 1990s brought me tenure and full professorship, research on Arizona’s history proved hard to resist. I applied for and received a year-long sabbatical from Saint Mary’s College, with my research funded by a grant from the American Sociological Association’s Fund for the Advancement of the Discipline Award. Funding to present my emerging ideas on Italians and Mexicans as in-between groups at numerous conferences came from several faculty development grants from St. Mary’s College. Particularly fruitful for me was the publication of two of my American Italian Historical Association conference papers.2 St. Mary’s then generously awarded me a second sabbatical, which gave me time to write this manuscript. Many of the self-funded trips taken between sabbaticals were assisted by generous family friends Carla and Paul Harris, who opened their home whenever I needed a research base in Phoenix. My husband, Phil, often accompanied me on research trips to Tucson, Bisbee, Jerome, Clifton and Morenci, Globe, and Rio Tinto, Spain, filling in as a research assistant and photographer. My work was energized by e-mail correspondence with several young scholars doing research primarily related to the role of gender in Arizona mining towns, especially Katie Benton, who provided useful comments and conversations. Many people read and commented on bits and pieces of the manuscript over the years. Particularly important for me was the help of Rose Scherini, a friend, role model, and major force in reclaiming the history of the World War II experience of Italian Americans. She is no longer with us. A critique from Richard Juliani sharpened my early work on Bisbee, as did comments and ideas from many others, such as Carol Beran. Coffee and chats with Zeese Papanikolas, an avid Western and ethnic historian, were very helpful. From Italy Adriano Boncompagni offered collaboration on researching the role of Italian miners in Western Australia and Arizona, a bit of research that remains undone, while Ernesto Milani, busy collecting immigrant history himself, gave me valuable insights on the Lombardese of Clifton and Morenci. Sherry McVicar, an astute friend, read the draft manuscript for me, offering insights. My daughter, Nicole, accompanied me one summer as a salaried research assistant and provided me with a recording of an Italian Tango, “Tango delle Capinere,” referenced in this book. Many other family members, friends, and colleagues aided me as this book slowly came together. My thanks to all.

x Preface and Acknowledgments

Introduction Social Change in the West

On October 16, 1915, a brass band led a crowd of some two thousand strikers through Clifton, Arizona. Anxiety was high throughout the district as copper miners again united to fight for better working conditions. The music the band played was a peculiar choice, no patriotic tune or rousing march to bolster the men’s courage before a confrontation with the sheriff or owners. Furthermore, the target was not city hall or mine headquarters. The funeral dirge was played for someone very much alive: Francisco Salerni.1 Frank Salerni was formerly a miner, one who had managed to achieve his dream of success in America. In 1900 he arrived in the Clifton-Morenci mining district with his wife, Rachele, probably to join her relatives.2 It was the start of an exciting new life, filled with possibilities. At age twenty- three, Frank prepared to participate in a democratic society by becoming naturalized.3 But he quickly realized that the promises of fairness and equality in America were not given to immigrants; you had to stand up and fight for what you deserved. In 1903 Frank joined with fellow miners to organize a major strike. At this time the Western Federation of Miners (WFM) was not willing to risk alienating skilled white workers by aiding low status immigrants. The largely Mexican workforce, along with Italians and other miners, took matters into their own hands, calling a wildcat strike. Already paid less than white workers, these miners were protesting an additional 10 percent cut in wages proposed by the copper companies.4 Frank was proud to be counted among the organizers, whom many considered incapable of the discipline and stamina necessary to conduct a successful strike. The Mexicans and Italians organized within their ethnic lodges and fraternal groups. A sense of unity emerged from their shared place in the economic system and a cultural connection created by their Romance languages, which allowed them to skirt English in favor of Ital- ianized Spanish in their meetings. Copper magnates faced a stubborn but largely nonviolent protest. To bolster their defenses, managers convinced authorities that bloodshed was pending, which justified bringing outside forces to Clifton. However, it was nature that broke the strike. Raging waters from a flash flood tore through town. Hardest hit were areas where the strikers lived. The strike leaders were rounded up, and a small core group of Mexi- cans and Italians, including Frank, was sent to Yuma Territorial Prison on charges of rioting. Frank survived his incarceration; however, the key organizer, Mexican immigrant Weneslado Laustaunau, died in prison. Rather than leave the district on his release, Frank and his family opted to stay on. Census takers found them living on Chase Creek in the mostly Mexi- can town of Metcalf in 1910. Frank found work in the mines again, despite his prison stint, and he now supported his growing family and widowed mother. Did he think it odd, when his daughter Maria was born that year, that the county clerk recorded his “color or race” as Italian, while Rachele’s entry listed her as white? Perhaps he was used to the way Americans viewed Italians. He most likely understood that if he were considered white, he could argue for higher wages. Still holding to a dream common to Italian immigrants, Frank became his own boss in 1912, when he opened a bar in East Clifton. This venture enabled him to open a bakery later, counting on customers from his contacts among mining families. Things changed, however, when the WFM, not in attendance in 1903, was invited into the district to organize in 1914. Frank opposed the idea, since he did not trust union organizers. However, his leadership role in the 1903 strike and subsequent suffering because he stood up for fellow miners was quickly forgotten. The funeral dirge that was played in front of his bakery was more than music; it signaled that symbolically Frank was no longer a paesano to his fellow Italians. It also meant he was not a paisano in the larger pan-Latin community that Italians joined to gain strength in numbers as a counterweight to the tremendous power wielded by the copper companies.5 He was now a traitor to the cause of working men and their families. Although Frank lost faith in the combined forces of workers, most Italians continued to support Mexican and Spanish workers in their struggles against corporate injustices.6

Increased Population, Increased Diversity

Frank Salerni’s story exemplifies the dynamics set in motion in western towns when work began to industrialize. The sparsely settled West was in the midst of rapid social change when Frank arrived. Burgeoning economic

2 Introduction opportunities drew many newcomers to the area. His life demonstrates choices inexperienced arrivals needed to make to stay afloat in an era when social categories of inclusion and exclusion were changeable. The American West was a geographical and social frontier. The mores and folkways of the established East Coast came under assault in challenging physical circumstances. One important set of societal norms borne west circumscribed relations among races. As settlements established by westering whites grew, so did struggles over who would dominate the social system. Whites generally wanted to keep their status intact, which meant creating and enforcing categories of racial differences that raised whiteness to a higher level than other racial categories. Creating Racialized Categories Those used to a biological concept of race may find the idea of developing racial categories odd. However, social scientists reject perspectives of race that are based on the notion that inherited race qualities include moral character, intelligence, or a host of other attributes, which can be identified by physical traits—skin color or hair type, to name two. Yes, some subpopu- lations can pass along genetic diseases, such as thalassemia (Cooley’s anemia), prevalent among Mediterranean people. But such genetic traits are few. Social scientists now view racial categories as social constructs. The notion of racial formation shows how racial designations are created through a struggle among groups about labels affixed to a particular race. Once formed, the labels take on a life of their own, since people believe the characteristics are inherited. As an ethnoracial group is racialized, those from the dominant society acquire a convenient description to justify pigeon- holing people. Racialization produces categories that go beyond stereotyping, becoming the rationale for discrimination.7 Initially, racial stratification operating west of the Mississippi was tentative because new groups, such as Asians and Latinos, were for the first time interacting with white northern European Americans in significant numbers. Furthermore, after the Civil War, former slaves and confederate supporters sought new territories—freed blacks wanting freedom and southern whites trying to recreate their old lives. Given the fluid social situation, minorities sought to insert their concerns into the political institutions of western territories and claim full citizenship in a democratic society, according to Arnoldo De Leon’s history of racial frontiers during the period from 1848 to 1890. Social rules were continually constructed to fit evolving circumstances, making the complex multicultural society more like our own than most people today recognize.8

Introduction 3 The frontier period quickly gave way to a time of incipient industrialization in much of the West. During this early industrial period, a “moving frontier of race” confronted Latinos, as described by José Padin. From one context to another, the racial status of a group like Mexicans varied from acceptance, as almost white, to rejection, as people of mixed races, depending on numerous social factors.9 During the early 1900s, much of the West came under the influence of eastern capitalists. Their corporate philosophies encouraged profit-driven social and economic relationships. As the “old West” waned, corporate owners replaced prospectors and small operations. Mining had become big business. While there were differences in mining according to the substance pursued—gold, silver, coal, or copper—a deskilling of work in all types of extractive methods meant skilled miners, mostly white, faced labor competition from less-skilled workers.

Immigrant Labor Profits were increased by using cheap and docile immigrant labor to replace experienced European workers, like the Cornish, who often had a long heritage of mining. Mexicans were the largest group of laborers recruited. They found themselves working with other groups, like Asians, blacks, Native Americans, and newer Europeans.10 In camps throughout western states, these new groups faced an ambiguous reception. Their labor was critical and vigorously recruited by companies, but prejudice entwined with the social relations of production, which led to discrimination in the form of lower wages. Furthermore, early union organizers rejected newcomers viewed as workers apt to undercut skilled white workers and as foreigners who lacked an understanding of exploitation and a backbone to stand up to owners. Clearly, immigrant miners were not all passive drones or totally naïve. As Philip Mellinger notes, “The copper companies helped create the racial definitions used throughout the mining West, and in the process, helped unify the copper workers.”11 Arizona was one place where the machinations of the copper industry’s leaders to ensure high profits ran headlong into the aspirations of workers. The more ambitious immigrants dreamed of opening small businesses or returning to their homelands to live in luxury. Many were willing to accept some degree of inequality in their wages, but when the discrepancy became wider than tolerable, companies often had a fight on their hands.

4 Introduction Italian Workers. Arizona’s Italian labor force was part of a larger migratory group in the western labor force. Early Italian pioneers in the West forged paths to remote western areas, so when industrialization began, the links for chain migration were in place. Italians were everywhere in the West during industrialization. Pouring into Il Grande Far Ouest, they fanned out to work in mines, construction projects, and lumbering in Colorado, Utah, Nevada, New Mexico, Idaho, Texas, Arizona, Washington, Oregon, Cali- fornia, and western Canada.12 In fact, Italians in the West had percentages similar to those of major settlements in the East because of the historically sparse populations of the West. For example, in 1900 California had the highest percentage of Ital- ians in the United States, while Italians were 3 percent of the foreign-born population of both New York and Nevada—yet few would associate Ital- ians with the latter state. Of course, the actual number of Italians in Nevada does not begin to compare with population concentrations, such as New York’s famous Little Italy on Mulberry Street; nor were they always concentrated in urban areas, yet their proportion in the general population was the same. As Lawrence Larsen points out, many western frontier cities had almost as much ethnic and religious diversity as eastern cities.13 After discriminatory legislation limited the number of Asians working in Arizona, Italians formed an important part of the labor force. They surpassed the number of all other southern Europeans—Greeks, Portuguese, and Spaniards—from 1880 until 1920, with their peak in 1900 at 90 percent of southerners.14 Chain migration links were forged to Arizona from the northern regions of Piemonte, Liguria, Lombardy, and Trent, with Calabria and Sicily representing southern Italy. Given the thinly settled population of Arizona, this relatively small but distinctive group stood out. Italy’s significant presence emerges when shown against a background of demographic trends. In Ari- zona the dramatic increase in Italians is evident from 1900 to 1910. The general population of the territory grew 66 percent, while the Italian population grew 119 percent.15 Upon entry into the United States, Italians were subject to numerous categories, mostly negative. Concepts of race and nationality over- lapped, so that the Irish were classified as a racial group rather than as an ethnic group as they are today. Italians might be lumped with other southern Europeans, noted for their Mediterranean origin, or with the Latin race, which was seen as not quite white. This meant that in the West, Italians and Mexicans were often close in status.

Introduction 5 The Italians’ presence was noticed by whites who needed to classify the new arrivals. Their European origins favored placement as whites, but this was weighed against their Mediterranean culture, since they spoke a Romance language and were Catholics. An article from an Arizona paper in 1884 shows that connections between Mexicans and Italians were already being forged. “The Mexicans and the Italians who are working the gold placers between the Colorado River and Yuma are said to wear white shirts, smoke puros and actually paid for their drinks.”16 White Camps and Mexican Camps Social placement of Italians in copper camps was problematic. Philip Mellinger and Linda Gordon’s work give the most complete views of Arizona’s racial microsystems, although many earlier historians provide valuable insights as well.17 Mellinger’s work in the Southwest focuses on the link between labor activism and the connections forged among Mexican, Italian, and Spanish immigrants of different backgrounds. Linda Gordon’s research on the Mexican camps of Clifton and Morenci documents the social construction of racial categories in the early 1900s. There she also found cooperation among those she labeled Euro-Latins—Italian and Spanish immigrants and Mexicans, noting that “Patterns of sociability . . . pointed to a ‘Latin’ identity that included Mexicans.”18 While Gordon sup- plements her focus on Mexican immigrants with an acknowledgment of Italians’ role in the 1903 strike, she unfortunately stops there, missing the later cooperation between these groups. Movements to enforce whites’ superior status emerged in booming mining areas. In eastern Arizona, the copper mining towns of Globe and Bisbee declared themselves “white man camps,” which meant nonwhites were placed in subordinate economic and social positions. Nor was Ari- zona unique in developing this type of social structure. In the mining district of Cripple Creek, Colorado, white wages were not meant for southern and eastern Europeans, Asians, or Mexicans. These groups were excluded from the district. In McGill, Nevada, Greeks were lower on the pay scale and residentially segregated from whites, as were Austrian and Japanese workers.19 Such conditions encouraged divisiveness and ethnocentrism. Not all camps were white, however. Arizona had numerous racial microsystems, according to Linda Gordon: “Racial orders arose as microsystems and, like microclimates, the more remote the area, the more specific the microsystem.” The reception encountered by a new group changed from one town to another and, over time, within one town.20 In eastern Arizona, a third mining district, Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf, was labeled a “Mexican

6 Introduction camp.” The diverse population contained many different cultures, but the most prevalent was Mexican. As was the case with white camps, multicultural camps existed outside of Arizona as well. Butte, Montana, although dominated by the Irish, absorbed an array of immigrant groups—Lebanese merchants, Finns and other Scandinavians, Serbs, Germans, French, Ital- ians, and the omnipresent Cornishmen, or Cousin Jacks. Bingham, Utah, owed the presence of Greek, Italian, and Japanese immigrants to the labor contractors who supplied workers for the Utah Copper Company. In Din- keyville, above Upper Bingham, Mexicans, Koreans, Filipinos, Italians, and others lived together in the deep gullies.21

Resistance. The common plight of southern and eastern European groups led to alliances with Mexicans and other groups also facing negative treatment in western camps. Early scholarship identified instances when southern Europeans, like Italians and Greeks, were treated as nonwhite but did not explicitly explore a multidimensional schema for the United States, which is now being done. The social structure often put later-arriving Euro- pean groups into an informally created middle group between whites and nonwhites, which some scholars call in-between groups.22 The prejudiced, racialized images held by many whites fused into definitive categories, as research in Bisbee shows. Sociologists Terry Boswell and John Brueggemann conclude that in Bisbee, “Segmentation of the labor market allowed employers to transform individual prejudice and discrimination into a system for locating workers into a racist hierarchy. Employ- ers exploited these divisions . . . repeatedly trying to introduce low-wage immigrants who were desperate for quick incomes as a way to drive down wages and break strikes among existing workers.”23 Nor was this a unique situation. In Ludlow, Colorado, companies con- sciously worked against ethnoracial cooperation. Unity of Mexicans, Ital- ians, Slavs, Greeks, Austrians, Germans, and others defied the managerial logic of the times. According to investigator John Reed, “operators made a careful study of the races most patient under oppression and deliber- ately imported ignorant foreigners to fill the mines, carefully massing in each mine men of many different languages, who would not be able to organize.”24 The bosses’ logic proved faulty. The miners’ strike of Ludlow, Colo- rado, is a stellar example of multiethnic unity. Workers, representing more than twenty-four nations, organized to win a union contract and ensure enforcement of often-ignored Colorado worker protection laws. Strikers and their families lived and died together in the infamous massacre by state

Introduction 7 militia of unarmed women and children in the Ludlow camp. The workers ultimately lost to the staying power of corporate dollars, but only after fifteen months of struggle and privation.25

Italians in Arizona’s Mining Camps. The racial climate Italians encountered in Arizona’s copper camps varied as did Italians’ adaptation. They formed a strong enclave in the white camp of Globe and gained entry into the local union, which allowed them to prosper. Bisbee’s exclusionary setting was harsher than Globe’s white camp, so the residents of Little Italy kept a low profile. The Mexican area of Clifton-Morenci offered the friendliest climate. Here Italians joined forces with Mexicans and late-arriving Spaniards to work openly for better circumstances. In this flexible situation, Italians recognized their place in the matrix of domination. Many were sojourners, yet they still opted to fight for the equality they had hoped for in the United States rather than accept blatant injustice.26 Primordialists claim that ethnic identity is rooted in heredity. How- ever, others see ethnic identity as socially constructed. The concept of sit- uational ethnic identity proposes that different settings facilitate flexible identities. While some ethnic identity is basic to an individual, that person can stress various identities to meet the needs of differing social situations. Francisco Rossi might stress his regional identity when among others from Liguria, his Italian identity when in a gathering of immigrants from all over the “boot,” and his Latin identity when among Mexicans.27 A seamless transition into a white category did not occur easily or quickly for Italians; nor were they always eager to move into the white category, since the price of admission, when available, was high. The identities stressed by Italians in Arizona camps give us valuable clues about how ethnoracial groups construct identities that can lead to cooperation and group formation or polar- ization and group conflict.

The Larger Significance

The gradual paradigm shift from the work of Frederick Jackson Turner has broadened the interest of researchers, expanding vistas on Western history in a way that makes examination of Italians’ roles critical.28 One point of contention is Turner’s declaration of 1893 as a focal point for the end of Western history, which drew attention away from important rapid devel- opmental changes occurring after that period. A growing awareness of plu- ralism legitimized new interests in topics previously considered marginal to the frontier perspective: social class divisions, especially in regard to labor;

8 Introduction the view of western advancement from the perspective of minority ethnic groups, rather than of Anglos; and the contributions of women to the West. As the editors note in the preface to Trails, a collection of essays, the “New Western History” presents a past more complex than a simple additive inclusion of various racial groups in which, for example, the roles of minorities on the frontier—Chinese, Japanese, black Americans, and Mexicans—are separately introduced. Instead a holistic story emerges, populated by men and women, an array of Native American peoples, whites, and many racialized groups, all mixing together in a rapidly emerging political and economic scene.29 Still, it took a while for European immigrants to be introduced into the West as relevant groups to study on their own merit or in comparison to others. In the idealized view of the frontier environment that developed following Turner, democracy and chances for upward mobility negated the continuation of ethnic subcultures. This view drew attention away from situations of ethnic conflict or cooperation. Indeed, immigration historian Marcus Lee Hansen, strongly influenced by Turner, proclaimed that immigrants were not equipped to handle the frontier. As he viewed it, these new arrivals had “an innate aversion to the wilderness with its solitude and lone- liness. . . . Neither by experience nor temperament was the immigrant fit- ted for pioneering.”30 However, recent research on labor-intensive projects like mining, dam construction, and lumbering in western states benefits from including immigrant history in studies of the class struggle of workers. Several subtle relationships between class and ethnicity are not limited to the urban areas of the East, such as the relegating of southern and eastern Europeans to ranks lower than those of native whites based on the generally lower opinion Americans had of the new arrivals. Expanding on the role of Italian immigrants, who are typically associated with the eastern seaboard, helps detail a re-envisioned West.31 This West had a kaleidoscopic array of ethnic groups populating an incredibly varied area, which until recently was painted over with heroic myths of white adventurers, explorers, settlers, and of course the pan-global figure of the cowboy.32 As David Murdoch suggests in one of the latest, but certainly not the last, comments on the popularity of the western mystique, the abiding attachment to such heroic myths results from their symbolic function in addressing the frustrations of a changing society, where people are uncertain about the blessings of rapid transformation: “The colli- sion of industrialism with America’s . . . agrarian value system and the belief in the ‘tragedy’ of a ‘finished’ West, resulted in a unique American response

Introduction 9 and the creation of the West myth.” Emerging from that myth is the archetypical figure of the cowboy and gunslinger as an American descendant of heroic knights, this time in democratic blue jeans rather than shining armor, defeating villains and selflessly defending the needy.33

Methodology

This book uses the artist’s technique of sgraffito, derived from the Italian word “to scratch.” The sgraffito artist uses a tool to scratch through a top layer of paint to reveal the original colors underneath. The result is an image incorporating both layers of paint. Imagine a well-respected artist of the 1870s, like Paul Frenzeny, being asked to create an Arizona version of his painting The Miners’ Pay Day. Or better yet, imagine that self- proclaimed “artistic painter” Oreste “Rusty” Scotti, from Cremolino, Italy, who decided to stake his future in Arizona, was chosen to paint a mural of Clifton, Arizona, town folks. His European eyes would be dazzled by a street scene with local White Mountain Apaches, black and white Ameri- cans, and particularly any cowboys. Global immigrants from China, Mex- ico, and Central and Latin America would merit a closer look, as would an array of fellow Europeans, mostly miners, from Ireland, Germany, England, Spain, and Italy. Rusty would be chagrined to learn that his vivid art would be covered by white paint, obscuring but not destroying the colors beneath his tableau.34 Creating a homogenous history for Arizona obliterated the complex palette of shades that characterized mining communities. Recently, however, scholars, novelists, and genealogists have painstakingly worked at scratching away some of the white top coat to reveal an image made more fascinating when the entire spectrum of colors comes through. Some incise narrowly, using the equivalent of a sharp bamboo scriber, to note the presence of Chinese, Japanese, Koreans, and early Filipinos in the West. Oth- ers use a wider tool, like the end of a brush, to reveal multiple groups, as is done here. The springboard for this research is Italian American studies, which is expanded to include the multicultural world these immigrants found in Arizona and their interaction with others in a matrix of domination, where groups that seem dissimilar on the surface do, indeed, have connections. The research uses data linkage, including the U.S. census, voter registra- tion, city directories, naturalization records, and other primary sources, such as newspapers and oral histories, as well as other information such as regional and local histories. The research combines numerous oral histories

10 Introduction of Italian families, conducted in the 1980s and early 2000s; written family histories; and extensive archival information. Also of assistance were family histories of Spanish speakers in Clifton-Morenci and Bisbee. These materials supplied data on history, occupation, residential patterns, interpersonal relationships, cultural traditions, and Italians’ experiences of discrimination and of assistance. While some research was done at the Bancroft Library at the Univer- sity of California, Berkeley, most research was conducted in University of Arizona and Arizona State University library holdings, the State of Arizona holdings at the capital in Phoenix, and the materials at the Arizona His- torical Society in Tucson. In addition, I visited holdings of selected counties—for example, Greenlee County—and local historical archives, such as the Bisbee Historical Society. Census data, naturalization papers, birth and death certificates, and Great Registers of Voters aided in identifying Italians and Spaniards more concretely than identification through guessing at ethnicity by surname, a weakness often found in research on ethnic groups. Longitudinal residential analysis of Bisbee’s immigrant neighborhoods with a focus on Italians from 1900 to 1925 aided in understanding the Bisbee white camp’s racialized landscape, yielding some data on occupation, household, gender, residential segregation, and mobility patterns. A similar analysis was completed for Globe, Arizona; however, pertinent records for Clifton and Morenci have been destroyed by flooding. These sources aided me in developing a nuanced understanding of Ital- ians’ role in a social environment that was far different from that of the East Coast and Midwest. Because of the generally sparse population at the time under study, it was possible to do work that encompassed all of Arizona. A drawback, however, was that the thinly scattered group lacked social institutions to provide further important clues on social placement. There was no Italian language press in Arizona, regrettably cutting off this line of research, nor were there Italian language churches that might have yielded important data. The role of Mexican Americans is a vivid thread in the racialized history of Arizona’s ethnic groups. My attention was focused on their role thanks to the insights of Chris Marin, professor and archivist of the Chicano studies collection at Arizona State University, who took an early interest in my research that continued to the current exploration of labor history in mining. Work with historians and archaeologists in several phases of this research moved the book beyond a one-dimensional interpretation. The cooperation resulted in an interdisciplinary study of the racialization process. Using a sociological theoretical interpretation of racial formation in a

Introduction 11 historical setting allows an interpretation of findings at a convergence of sociology and history.

Terminology

Terminology is tricky in describing Italian Americans’ social position. Terms like semiracialized and partly racialized, used to describe Italians in my earlier works, proved confusing to others. Some readers misinterpreted these terms to suggest that whites were not racialized. The intent was never to imply this, since race is a socially constructed category. In the process of racial group formation, the white category became so dominant that it was the normative racial category (and thus bandages were called flesh colored as if skin came in only one shade). Partly racialized was what I used to describe the middle ground or in-between status of Italians, while using language related to sociologists Omi and Winant’s terminology. I meant the term partly racialized to indicate a group not fully white nor fully Other. Clearer terminology in retrospect would be something like “partly racialized as white and partly racialized as Other,” which is a bit wordy. The term in-between, used by several historians, is used here despite my concerns about vagueness. Exactly which groups are in between other groups in social settings with multiple groups, and who are these other groups? Does each group have a different shade, if you will, in a racial spectrum? Anyone with experience in a paint store knows white and black are, oddly, not on a color wheel. Each has several shades of slightly different colors attached to it, with subtle, esoteric differences. Is oyster white in between snow white or alpine white, and where does yellow white fit? Still, new options in racial terminology continue to emerge. Perhaps sociologist Max Sylvius Handman’s early definition of Mexicans as “partly colored races” to describe their entry into the binary black-white color scheme of Texas cotton culture could be updated. Italians and other socially dark Europeans would then be “partly white races.” The designation of Italians as “miscellaneous whites” from the Dillingham Commission’s immigration report is catchy too. Other contenders are terms like “not quite white,” which is still a bit cumbersome, although some terms like nonvisibly black have problems too.35 I hope that a healthy debate can lead to an agreed term suitable for all groups whose Europeanness gained them some white privileges and led them to be classified as white on government forms but whose putative negative racial characteristics meant their social standing was often marginal.

12 Introduction Essentially, in-between groups are not given full privileges as whites, who are designated as the racial norm—economically, socially, and politically; thus in-between groups share some of the lower status of more fully racialized groups. But they do not consistently receive the full negative impact of being Other either, and they have more opportunities for upward mobility and acceptance. In Arizona’s eastern copper camps, in-between groups’ wages (and jobs) were sandwiched between higher wages accorded northern Europeans and lower ones paid to Mexicans. Many mines had de facto wage divisions following a complex system of classification based on skills, language ability, and sojourner status, while a few actually recorded an Italian wage. In this book, EuroLatin designates, when appropriate, Spaniards and Italians, following the work of contemporary Spanish economist Gabriel Tortella.36 Latin is used for all three groups: Mexicans, Spaniards, and Ital- ians. Latino refers to those from Mexico and Central and South America. From a contemporary perspective, the idea of European groups as Latin is at odds with the definition of Latino, which pertains to those from Latin America. However, a century ago, different sensibilities meant that Ital- ians, Portuguese, Spaniards, and Spanish speakers from the Americas were routinely identified in the press as Latins.37 Complicating matters, various Latin groups used the term as an autonym, or an in-group ethnic label. Ital- ians, and others, often proudly self-identified as Latins. For example, in California, Il Branch Latino of the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW) was formed by Italians; in Arizona, Mexicans formed the Liga Protectora Latina.38 Finally, the term Mexican is used for both Mexican immigrants and Mexican Americans unless a more specific reference is made.

The Organization of This Book

Chapter 1 addresses Arizona Territory’s development into a leader in the U.S. mining industry, after overcoming obstacles to developing previously remote areas. With growth and new technology, the need for skilled labor decreased, and new immigrants from Mexico, China, and southeastern Europe became the source for cheap semiskilled miners, resulting in labor strife. The role of Italians in the developing territory is addressed. In chapter 2, I study Italians’ image of Arizona, found in part in the lyrics of a tango depicting Arizona as a romantic, mysterious place. I discuss three major waves of Italian migration to the United States, with representatives of each period in Arizona, and the causes of emigration from Italy. A study of migration throughout the United States based on Arizona Great

Introduction 13 Registers of Voters adds significant information on transmigration patterns. I separate Spaniards from generic categories, such as Hispanic or Spanish speaking, to address their unique immigration patterns to Arizona. Chapter 3 zeroes in on violence toward minorities in the West and looks carefully at the case of Italians in Arizona. This topic relies on comparative information to examine Arizona patterns in relation to the North- west and Colorado. The prejudice and discrimination shaping Arizona’s reception of minority groups, such as blacks, is examined with attention to groups prominent in mining: Chinese, Mexican, and Spanish immigrants. Then I give attention to Italians in terms of both the micro and macro levels of violence directed toward them, drawing on newer research on western aggression toward ethnoracial groups. The theoretical framework used here is derived from Max Weber and Michel Foucault. In chapter 4, I examine Globe, Arizona, which was a white man’s camp with an interesting stratification system. The Little Italy in Globe isan example of a cohesive, independent community, which makes it the basis for comparison with communities in Clifton and Bisbee. I examine the role of the union in securing a niche for Italians and describe their community life—from family ties to food. Chapter 5 contrasts ethnic relations elsewhere with those of Bisbee, where the social structure and norms prevented a pan-Latin coalition from developing. Italians kept a low profile as a marginal ethnic group in the lowest rungs of underground miners, while Mexicans were excluded from mining. In chapter 6, I explain the emergence of a pan-Latin identity in the Mexican camp as Mexicans, Italians, and later Spaniards joined forces to challenge the power of the copper companies. Their successes, although limited, were the outcome of over a decade of cooperation, which is longer than most ethnicity-based labor coalitions last. In chapter 7, I assess the Italian experience in eastern Arizona copper camps. Comparing the social forces in the three different camps, I explicate the ethnic connections and divisions that emerged in the unique microsystems of western mining camps. I expand on the relevance of the pan-Latin identity for ethnic and immigration studies and address, in terms of applications to contemporary society, the importance of cooperation between ethnic groups despite efforts to divide them.

14 Introduction 1

Arizona’s Economic and Social Development Courting Copper

Gazing at the Grand Canyon State’s colorful flag, a vexillophile or even a casual observer might wonder about the prominent copper star central to the field of blue on the bottom and the alternating rays of red and yellow on top. Certainly Arizonans could have picked a gold or silver star to symbolize the new state, metals more to the liking of early explorers. The 1736 discovery of silver may have given the state its name in tribute to the huge silver nuggets discovered at Arizonac. Arizona passed into American hands in 1848 at the end of the U.S.–Mexican war, when Mexico ceded all land above the Gila River. The southern boundary of Arizona was delineated in 1854 with the Gadsden Purchase, adding more than 26,000 square miles to the United States, mostly in Arizona. The southern area was a lightly populated, undeveloped frontier space, where Sonoran desert landscape flowed indistinguishably across a contested border. Squabbling over where to draw the division between the two nations took nine years to resolve. Finally a survey codified the boundary; thirty-four markers symbolically divided Sonora from Arizona. But it would take more than mounds of stones to sever the cultural and economic ties between the borderlands.1

Opening Arizona’s Mountain Zone

That Arizona contained valuable mineral resources was known. How- ever, the large-scale development of this mineral bonanza was new. Native peoples knew of ore sources and used extractive methods as early as A.D. 1000. For example, the Tohono O’odham manufactured body paint from available minerals. However, the heart of the mineral bonanza was in an area whites knew little of. Geographers divide Arizona into three physiographic zones. Dazzling postcards of the Grand Canyon, Meteor Crater, and the Painted Desert depict the northern plateau area, bordered on the south by the Mogollon Rim. The towering saguaro cacti native to the desert region make the south- ernmost zone memorable. The highland mountain zone, with some thirty mountain ranges, is sandwiched between them. While towering peaks like Mount Graham, at 10,720 feet above sea level, are well known, much of the zone is terra incognita to outsiders. Angling across the state, from the northwest to the southeast, gold, silver, and copper deposits enrich this rugged mountain zone, long resistant to all but serious explorers. A drive to possess this treasure box propelled Arizona into political independence, wealth, and population growth. Arizona might have languished as the westernmost province of the New Mexico Territory had not supporters of the area’s independence convinced the U.S. government that developing Arizona’s wealth required federal support in the form of troops and a local territorial government. To keep the wealth from Con- federate hands, President Lincoln established Arizona as a separate territory in 1863.2 Gold fever was epidemic in California, but not all argonauts gained wealth or prestige in the Golden State.3 Nearby Arizona soon attracted miners looking for a second chance to get rich. A series of Arizona mining strikes in La Paz, the Martinez Mining District, later renamed Congress, Tombstone, and Globe, produced riches in gold and silver, drawing prospectors in droves to search the landscape for ore outcroppings despite wilderness dangers. The precious metals’ plainer sister, copper, received a less enthusiastic courtship. Suitors usually noted copper outcroppings in passing, while searching out more desirable ores. During the Spanish reign, explorers looked for valuable minerals. When Antonio de Espejo found rich copper outcroppings in 1583 in the upper Verde Valley, the expedition’s chronicler disparaged the find as merely copper.4 True, copper was an important early metal in the civilizations of Egypt, China, and Greece, changing the ancient world when paired with tin to produce bronze and zinc to make brass. The newfound alloys spurred the development of newer, stronger, and deadlier metals, changing the course of civilizations. However, the development of other metals like iron

16 Chapter 1 eventually eclipsed copper, diminishing but never eliminating its value.5 Had Arizona entered statehood earlier, copper would not have figured prominently in the local iconography.

The Industrialization of Copper Mining

A weak current of voltaic energy produced in Italy in 1800 changed the future of the mining industry by showing copper’s importance in con- ducting electrical current. Count Alessandro Volta, following the experi- ments of fellow scientist Luigi Galvini, pioneered research in what would be known as electrochemistry. His voltaic pile was the first crude electric battery that produced an electric current by alternating discs of copper, cardboard, impregnated moist salt, and zinc. Others would make this invention practical as a new energy source for the Industrial Revolution. As the Bronze Age had ushered in a new demand for copper, new technologies in the Industrial Age restored its luster. When made into a wire, its flexibil- ity and ability to conduct electricity and heat was critical in revolutionary inventions like the telegraph, telephone, incandescent light bulb, and electric motor. A century after Volta’s breakthrough, Italian immigrants, many from the Lombardy region where Volta was born, would seek employment in Arizona’s copper mines.6 Attention to Arizona’s copper troves began in earnest at Ajo in 1854, where Spaniards had previously worked ores, when rich copper ore was sent to Wales for smelting.7 This early effort was unprofitable, as was the Planet Mine discovered in 1864, near the Colorado River, close to Bill Williams’ Fork. It survived until 1873 by shipping ore to San Francisco.8 Such dis- tances worked against profitability, but only for a time, because both the local transportation routes expanded and improved, and new technology for extraction and smelting proved a bonanza for mine owners. Arizona’s copper industry became an economic force in the 1870s as mining gained prominence in the post–Civil War economy of the Southwest. Arizona Territory was destined to be a bright star in the western constellation of copper camps after obstructions to mining ventures were resolved. As Rodman Wilson Paul noted, problems of fierce Native Americans, a hostile physical environment, and minimal transportation routes in the eastern steppes of Arizona hampered economic development. However, solutions gradually opened up an area rich in mineral wealth.9 Prospectors, capitalists, and workers fought with native Apaches over tribal territory grown valuable to whites because of deposits of newly discovered ores.

Economic and Social Development 17 Several copper sites emerged on the coattails of silver or gold strikes. Initially the copper camps were small, dirty, dangerous, and under siege. Ore production rose and fell as lack of reliable labor and transportation routes limited the production and exportation of goods. Many camps were wild and dangerous places whose reputations were embellished by stories of shootings and lawlessness, which were fostered by an abundance of sin businesses—saloons, bordellos, and gambling establishments.10 Magazine fiction before 1900 filled eastern readers’ minds with vibrant stories of Arizona’s Navajo, Pima, and Apache tribes, hoary prospectors, brave soldiers, and evil bandits. As early as 1871, stories depicted memorable char- acters like Sage-Brush Bill, a miner, rancher, and Indian fighter. Even the illustrious author Sir Arthur Conan Doyle penned an Arizona tale, in the 1890s, about an Englishman’s encounter with an Arizona gunslinger.11 New Technologies Arizona had scarcely become a territory, however, when the economic bedrock experienced an upward thrust that pushed the embryonic territory into the industrial age. The eastern seaboard had a century or more to adjust to a radically new economic format based on mass manufacturing, transportation, and construction of new urban forms. Midwest centers like Chicago had several decades to adjust. Western states had no such tem- poral buffer, and the resulting rapid social change caught most off guard. Rather quickly, the economic possibilities of Arizona attracted outsiders willing to sink capital into developing profitable mines, leaving prospectors and burros behind to enter a second stage of the extractive industries. Small mining companies took hold (like the Copperosity Mine, employing ten men in Pinal County) then faded away, leaving only larger, well-funded mines.12 Tied to an emergent global market, corporate wealth funded the major transition into industrialized mining, propelling it into an advanced business.13 Investors came from California, Michigan, New Mexico, Wisconsin, Scotland, and England. Corporate representatives were attracted by the possibility of mining more than just high-grade ore. New technological advances made low-grade ores profitable. By the turn of the century, highly skilled Welsh and Cornish hard rock miners, with generations of mining heritage, began to be replaced by less-skilled European immigrants. Similarly, Mexican experts in smelter construction found their expertise bypassed by new techniques. Cost-effective copper mining now depended on the volume of ore, rather than on mining the highest quality ore.

18 Chapter 1 James Colquhoun was dispatched by the Scottish-owned Arizona Copper Company (ACC) to Clifton. He developed a passion for the company, going beyond normal efforts. Seeing the ACC in financial trouble, he designed and manufactured an ore concentrator and leaching plant that allowed efficient processing of low-grade “black copper” high in iron oxides. His innovations, implemented in 1893, increased corporate profits 1,000 percent within three years.14 Immigrant Labor A new, more complex population mix moved into the area to serve the modern mining industry, now an economic pillar in Arizona’s rise to statehood, employing immigrants from all over the world. Miami, Arizona, for example, become a boomtown in 1913 because Inspiration Consolidated Copper Company hired, in addition to Mexicans, “an army of unskilled foreign-born laborers including Italians, Spaniards, Slavs, Dalmatians, Greeks, Chinese, Negroes, Swedes, and Turks.”15 However, the grand image of Arizona’s past was already forged; there was no room among cowboys, Indians, and settlers for modern mining. One of the defining moments in Arizona’s celebrated history is the gunfight at the OK Corral. Memorialized in print and film and dissected in quasi-scientific television reenactments, the 1881 event is depicted as a struggle between good and evil played out in Tombstone between the Earps and Clantons, all white gunfighters. The myth of the West does not have room for representations of this multicultural town that reflect the diversity of nascent Arizona settlements at this time. Few know that among Tombstone’s major ethnic groups were Irish, Latinos, Chinese, and a sizable number of German immigrants. The famous Boot Hill Cemetery certainly has graves for outlaws who died with “their boots on” as well as a memo- rial to Jewish pioneers. Italians were also present, and a sheriff or desperado could get a hair trim from John Miano, have scuffed boots shined by Alexander D’Martini, buy a steak from Charles Bacigalupe, or hoist a drink at Pasquale Nigro’s Comet Saloon.16 Most Italians, however, were in Tombstone for the silver mining, as precious metals drew hundreds to the rugged mountains hid- den from most outsiders until the 1850s. When the silver boom went bust, Italians stayed on in Cochise County to mine copper. The copper mining towns that are central to this book are in eastern Arizona. Globe, Clifton, Morenci, and Bisbee are situated in the Mexican highland mountain range that stretches south into Mexico, where mineral

Economic and Social Development 19 Arizona Mining Towns 115° W 114° 113° 112° 111 ° 110° 109°

37° 37° N N

36° APACHE 36° MOHAVE COCONINO Chloride NAVAJO FLAGSTAFF Bullhead City Kingman

35° Oatman 35° Jerome

PRESCOTT YAVAPAI

34° LA PAZ GILA 34° Wickenburg Quartzsite Salome McMillianville PHOENIX Miami Apache Junction Globe

Superior Clifton GREENLEE 33° YUMA Hayden 33° MARICOPA Winkelman Morenci YUMA PINAL Gila City Mammoth Oracle GRAHAM

Ajo TUCSON COCHISE Benson 32° PIMA Pearce 32° Tombstone Courtland Mining town Courtland Arivaca Tubac Gleeson Other town SantaSANTA CRUZCruz Bisbee

31° 31°

115° W 114° 113° 112° 111 ° 110° 109° AZ_Mining_Towns2.PDF07 0 20 40 60 80 100 Miles

0 20 40 60 80 100 Kilometers Courtesy: Arizona Geographic Alliance Department of Geography, Arizona State University Becky L. Eden

Arizona’s mining towns. (Courtesy of the Arizona Geographic Alliance, Arizona State University School of Geographical Sciences and Urban Planning; map by Becky Eden) wealth, enterprising capitalists, and politicians united Sonora, Mexico, with Arizona’s mining boom. Despite their altitude (Bisbee was called the Mile High City), all three towns endure a hot steppe climate, which means having only slightly more rainfall than the southern Arizona desert region. The average temperature in the summer ranges between highs of 90 degrees to lows of about 64, while winters bring 30-degree temperatures and snow. All the towns were in remote locations, generally inaccessible until the start of mining in the 1880s. And, as Linda Gordon notes, each had a distinct microsystem regulating social acceptance or exclusion of minority groups.17 In these towns, Italians, and other ethnoracial groups, whittled away a place for themselves commensurate with the local climate.

Courting Labor for Competing Labor Projects

Finding workers for difficult and dangerous working conditions related, in part, to national shortages of unskilled laborers in a time of tremendous industrial expansion. Nearby Mexico was a ready source for Arizona workers. Starting in the early 1900s, large numbers of Mexicans crossed the invisible boundary between their home and the U.S. Southwest. Some fled the social unrest of a civil war; others left central Mexico on newly constructed rails; and labor recruiters lured others from their agricultural jobs to try new work. In the West, Asians, mostly Chinese and Japanese, added to the workforce. To further fill the needs for workers at the bottom of the labor pyramid, thousands of southern and central Europeans poured into the United States. Most Europeans entered the United States through New York City, dispersing from there throughout the country to lay tracks, harvest crops, excavate for tunnels and buildings, cut timber, build roads, or work on other labor-intensive projects.18 In addition to general labor shortages, western expansionists faced a shortage specifically in the West due to a period of very rapid growth. As Arizona became modernized, technological advances in rail and dam construction and in mining required increasing numbers of semiskilled workers. Railroads Transportation began to change from the frontier days of the covered wagon, bumpy stagecoach, and mule-drawn ore carts—which could not transport ore quickly enough or in large enough quantities to sustain modern industry—to trains. Railroads opened up the remaining frontier to capitalist investment. The Civil War delayed construction of railroads to

Economic and Social Development 21 Arizona, even though surveyors began mapping out a route across northern Arizona in the 1850s.19 Mining camps were often forced to wait for rail lines to maximize their potential. Mining in the Swansea area started in 1862 but languished until a rail line connecting the site to Wickenburg was built in 1904. The line brought investors, but significant growth in production and population was curbed until 1910, when the Arizona and Swansea line was installed.20 Wanting to open the area to settlers and investors, the federal government aided construction through land grants. Railroad companies fought over who would build the first tracks through parts of Arizona.21 Battalions of workers were needed to lay the maze of railroad tracks throughout Arizona’s often inhospitable landscape. Tracks laid from California into Arizona used mostly Chinese laborers, but other railroads frequently employed a variety of immigrants willing to work at anything. In 1892, the railroad from Ash Fork used a workforce of mostly Mexican and Italian laborers who laid tracks for the Peavine Line, a nickname earned by the twisting curves needed to reach Prescott. Tracks from this mining area were followed by others to Phoenix in 1895, a time some considered to be “the official closing of the frontier in Arizona.”22 Dams Another major advance in the rapid modernization of Arizona was the harnessing of hydroelectric power through construction of massive dams under the aegis of the federal government. Overall, the historical importance of water reclamation was the final transformation of the American West from a lightly populated, semiarid land to an industrializing region of a modern capitalist nation. Primary beneficiaries of the first big federal project, the Roosevelt Dam, were agriculture and the emerging urban center of Phoenix. Electrical power was also a boon for copper mining. Local dams, like a “Chinese” masonry dam on Humbug Creek, aided primitive hydraulic mining efforts but were not adequate for large-scale mining.23 Steam-generated power was too costly for mining copper, but new dams provided cheap energy critical for extracting lower-grade copper ore. Copper mines in the Globe-Superior-Miami corridor bought hydroelectric power for excava- tion equipment from the Roosevelt Dam project.24 The Magma Copper Company, in Superior, for example, used the power to pump water from mines, drive air compressors, and power machinery.25 Jobs working in dam construction cut into the limited pool of workers in the western labor market, but the mighty Roosevelt Dam was built in

22 Chapter 1 Arizona’s rugged mountain zone. The remote site and tough living conditions, despite some amenities provided by a camp and a newly constructed town, meant that attracting and keeping both skilled workers and laborers paralleled problems faced by mine managers. Starting in the early 1900s, Mexican migration took an upswing, as did that of southern and central Europeans. In the West, Asians, mostly Chinese and Japanese, added to the workforce. Many different ethnic groups, including Apache Indians, Austrians, African Americans, Irish, Spanish, German, and Mexican workers, became part of the dam’s labor force. Technological advances in dam construction and in mining permit- ted an increasing use of semiskilled workers. Roosevelt remains the world’s largest masonry dam simply by default, because it was the last dam built by a method that still used some higher-paid craftsmen.26 The impact of Italians in building the dam exemplifies their role in the general labor force. A select group of Italian workers became prized at worksites. Indeed, some claimed that Roosevelt Dam was built by Italian stonemasons brought directly from Italy by the U.S. government “especially to cut and lay the stones for the dam.”27 However, this is not an accurate statement since the Foran Act, passed in 1885, forbade using contract labor from Europe. This legislation was intended, in part, to keep in check immigrants considered racially inferior to whites. The Chinese topped Foran’s list, which also included newer Europeans. The legislator wanted to keep out the “large numbers of degraded, ignorant, brutal Italians and Hungarians who . . . being low in the scale of intelligence,” are “willing slaves.”28 Furthermore, recruitment of workers from Italy was not critical because by the time Roosevelt Dam was started in 1903, many Italians who spe- cialized in stone working were already immigrating to the United States on their own. In 1900 alone, for example, more than four thousand mar- ble and stonecutters were among the new Italian immigrants who found work on important construction projects.29 Consequently, the dam’s labor force included skilled Italian craftsmen hired from the Italian colony in Globe. Among the Italian stonemasons coaxed away from Globe were Enrico Troglia, Simone Abello, Jack Giachetti, and Thomas Quarelli, along with skilled blacksmith Joe Perlino.30 However, the majority of the Italians were semiskilled or even unskilled. The new method of masonry construction required less hand work to prepare the vertical joints on the face of the dam, which thus devolved into semiskilled work. Italians in low-paying jobs were often grouped in a wage category similar to Mexicans. Payroll records for Camp Dyer’s dam construction project showed that laborers

Economic and Social Development 23 with Italian and Spanish surnames earned about 15 percent less than white unskilled workers.31 Ironically, both mine managers and construction bosses had negative attitudes toward those laborers they recruited. An army of loosely anchored men drifted across the West not necessarily wanting a steady, long-term paycheck but seeking a stake for a prospecting trip or enough cash to sustain a prolonged binge in wide open towns. Roosevelt’s supervising engineer lamented the overall low grade of his laborers, whom he saw as lazy and transient. “The nationality of the laborers of various classes, outside of the Indians and Mexicans, are from all parts of the world, Italians, Swedes, Danes, hoboes, besides Americans from nearly every state and territory.”32 Another difficulty both groups of managers faced related to retention of an often transient workforce. It became economically wise to slow down the attrition rate by providing reasonably priced housing. Worker Housing Just as mines, railroads, and dams changed Arizona’s physical environment, housing for workers and their families, whether a tent city for dam workers or rudimentary housing in a mining camp, affected the social environment. Hardened prospectors worked in the earliest mining camps; a brush shelter, a shallow depression with an overhang to keep the rain out, or a few boards thrown together to offer protection from the elements were all people expected. As mining locales grew, rudimentary housing, stores, transportation centers, and bars sprang up. Mining towns needed human resource spaces, where people could purchase the goods and services they needed, as well as saloons, despite the potential risk. Subjectively, a sense of community also anchored workers. There are many ways to view mining towns: from the perspective of important founders, personal reminiscences of ordinary folk, intensive investigations of the economy, or examination of the local transportation routes. Underlying all views is the need to have a community, which is a prerequisite for human survival, especially under challenging circumstances. Once a community grows, divisions occur, often in predictable patterns, such as separations of ethnoracial groups from the main community. The divisions formed within mining communities were shaped by physical surroundings and the prevailing social stratification system, which influenced where certain people lived according to their class and ethnicity. The symbolic importance of living arrangements was important in how people coexisted and formed identities in isolated localities, where the power of law was not always fully supported by emerging social norms.

24 Chapter 1 Space and Place

The social environment we humans inhabit exists in dual dimensions: space and place.33 Space is the material dimension of mining communities. It is measurable: distance from other locales, height in feet or meters, computa- tion of population density, and streets are all features to gauge and objec- tify. Physical properties can be mapped showing the terrain of creeks and rivers, hills and canyons, swamps, and perhaps fault lines. Thus, the objec- tive properties along the economic, cartographic, and demographic axis compose one part of the reality of a mining community. For example, the space that was Gila City, Arizona’s first mining boomtown, was located an easy ride from Yuma, roughly at the north end of the Gila Mountains on the south bank of the Gila River, near the mouth of Monitor Gulch. The discovery of gold prompted brief, intense attention as swarms of miners grew into a population of about 1,200 by 1861. Surrounded by mountains on all sides, the town became pockmarked with sand and gravel hills from three to ten feet high as “gopher holes” were dug, as deep as twenty feet, to reach gold. In Gila City’s brief existence, tent stores, gambling halls, and bars sprang up, but the brush lean-tos and adobe buildings faded into the desert as the treasure seekers moved on. No lasting village was formed, and the space was abandoned. Gila City did not last long enough to become a viable community.34 Place, in contrast to space, is a social psychological phenomenon that exists as the center of lived meaning, while holding memories of the past and even future plans. When someone calls a town “my place,” there is a personal investment, a psychological and, for some, spiritual attachment. For residents, a mining community blended space and place in a complex way, usually reflecting social positioning by class and race that was unique to the town. If a town were to survive, people needed economic incentive, of course, but beyond that they needed to develop a symbolic attachment to a space, taking pride, for example, in erecting the first church or school, since both buildings signify a deeper commitment than purely economic utility. Otherwise, people lived lightly in boomtowns, ready to leave at news of a strike elsewhere. Human ecological settlements parallel plant and animal communities to some extent, as exemplified by struggles for economic and territorial control of a town. They also share a unique collective social or moral order. The new Arizona Territory was part of the greater society of Anglo settlers who formed the cultural and economic nucleus of dominance in the West. For Anglo Americans, the hub of a community was their culture: a shared

Economic and Social Development 25 English language, the Protestant religion, and a value system emphasiz- ing individualism, democracy, progress, rationality, heroic masculinity, supportive femininity, and particular food preferences (garlic eaters were not included). Erick Clements reports that mining town residents put efforts into “building fraternal and community organizations, less formal socializing, and a host of recreational pastimes.”35 But often missing in early camps were safe and defensible spaces for social interaction where people of all backgrounds could relax. Early recreational places routinely involved alcohol, gambling, and prostitution—places where heightened emotions often led to aggressive behavior. Nor were these public territories universally available to everyone. Some, particularly certain ethnoracial groups, needed to create separate home territories, where an Italian, for example, could hoist a drink without facing slurs. Thus, groups often carved out their own niche. Such was the case in Gila City, where Mexicans and Indians were not welcomed. Their home territory was about three miles from Gila City, near the Laguna Mountains, at the small mining camp of Las Flores. Ironically, it outlasted the white camp when a gold vein was discovered there. Gila City was abandoned by 1864, but Las Flores survived into the 1870s.36 In an ethnic enclave, people had relative freedom, a sense of intimacy, and safe places to congregate.37 When separate enclaves were not feasible, everyone lived in the same space, but not in the same place. The layout of mining towns followed the shape and structure of the surrounding physical environment, while the social structure followed the structure of a society divided by race and class. Some residential segregation was due to poverty—poor whites lived among nonwhites—and sometimes the separation was planned to make the white hierarchy inside mines explicit outside too. Middle class leaders, whether mine managers or merchants, promoted civic improvements, ranging from essential sanitation and water projects to beautifying efforts like street lamps, designed to give sparkle and safety to the town, but they ignored health and safety hazards in poorer neighborhoods. Bisbee, as Queen of the Copper Camps, refurbished Main Street, for example, but cleaning up the barrio of Chihuahua Hill and constructing roads for fire wagons were not a priority.38 Company Towns In Arizona’s corporate mining industry, company towns unfolded throughout the territory. At one level, the idea of a company town runs counter to the ideals of a small town, where participatory democracy means

26 Chapter 1 everyone contributes to town hall meetings and civic activities. But company towns emerged as America moved full tilt into the Industrial Revolu- tion. Workers in remote locations needed a place to live; camps often had boarding houses or hotels for single men, but a stable workforce needed men invested in a community through family life, not just paychecks. James Allen defines a company town, found throughout western states, as a town “fully owned and controlled by a mining company, and the social, economic, and sometimes even the political well-being of the town’s inhabitants depended on the policies and goodwill of that company. In each there was almost a complete lack of self-government.”39 The company store was a key institution, having the volume of sales to offer miners many amenities, but some stores overcharged their captive consumers. Civic necessities, like hospitals, were welcomed parts of corporate enterprises. On the other hand, when even the land on which houses were built was controlled by a corporation, a community could be literally destroyed for minerals beneath homes. Racialized Landscapes Antonio Rios-Bustamante and Andrea Huginnie explain the racialized landscapes of Arizona communities, each demonstrating that mining company policies often furthered existing social divisions through housing. Some divisions were de jure, like Bisbee’s law to keep Chinese from settling there by forbidding Asians from being in town after sundown. But often the de facto establishment of social norms, sometimes direct and sometimes subtle, let newcomers know where they were expected to live.40 In Allen’s opinion, Morenci was closest to his definition of a total company town in Arizona because it was taken over by Phelps Dodge, which also had a sizable interest in Bisbee. Still, the often heavy-handed policies of PD did not result in de jure segregation in either Morenci or Bisbee. In contrast, when the town of Ray was constructed in 1909 by the Arizona Hercules Copper Company, the company built homes for white miners in the main residential areas, whereas Spanish and Mexican miners lived in satellite communities set apart from whites. They had to build their own housing. When the Ray Consolidated Copper Company (formerly Ray Copper Mines, Ltd.) built nearby Hayden in 1911, the new model town was laid out on three distinct hills. The center hill was called Mill Side, with resource spaces like stores and schools. To the east was the smelter and housing for white workers, and to the west was San Pedro, where Mexicans lived. The Mexican section consisted of dilapidated shanties scattered along a system

Economic and Social Development 27 of poor roads, lacking the well-maintained streets, underground sewer system, and street lights provided for the rest of town. The fact that Hayden was a company town also meant that housing and jobs were tied together. If a worker lost his job, he also lost his house. When a worker retired, he moved elsewhere. As the Calumet and Arizona Corporation expanded from Bisbee to Ajo, a new community needed to be built.41 The corporation planned to do steam-shovel mining to scrape out major portions of ore from near the surface; a new leaching process made mining this lower-grade copper profitable. John C. Greenway had already developed a model town in Minnesota’s Mesabi Range. Using the same architectural firm, he designed an Arizona settlement in 1916. However, Arizona’s racial mores mandated three separate locations for the town. The American Townsite centered on a main plaza; the second locale was for Mexicans, out of sight of the first one and separated, in turn, from the Indian Townsite.42 In some company towns, overt segregation was not used, but evidence of de facto separation emerges. In Morenci, controlled by PD, census numbers showed that Mexicans, Italians, and Spaniards lived clustered among each other, rather than being randomly spread over the town’s seven hills. Similarly, in Bisbee southern and central Europeans lived with Mexicans and blacks in Brewery Gulch, although barrios were most heavily populated by Mexicans.

Women and Family

With the start of affordable housing, another significant change emerged as the gender ratio began to shift gradually from a heavily male world to one that included more Anglo and European women. Women, of course, were always present in Arizona among Native American tribes. Several of the Athapaskan-speaking peoples, such as Western Apaches and Navajos, showed the centrality of women in their matrilineal and matrilocal tribal organizations.43 In parts of the territory where Mexican people were well established, there was also a more balanced gender ratio. Arizona’s earliest experiment in promoting family life for miners began in Tubac, developed in 1856 by the New York–based Sonora Exploring and Mining Company. The company took over the abandoned Spanish presidio and built housing for the Mexican workers. Charles Poston supervised everything in the valley, including marriages, baptisms, and divorces, until Apache depredations caused abandonment again. Years later a similar paternalistic system emerged in Clifton. Here too management took over

28 Chapter 1 the personal lives of Mexican workers by enticing single men into marriage. Possibly the most romantic labor-recruitment strategy ever used was when owners sent the Mexican foreman Don Antonio, described as a dashing caballero, to bring back Mexican families to work. Logic dictated that workers who might bolt under an Apache onslaught would stay and defend their loved ones. He returned with several couples who were married on the spot, thus securing a cadre of stable workers.44 The scarcity of women was apparent in 1860 when the territorial census showed that only one-fifth of the population was female, with few Anglo women. The number of women gradually increased as the new century dawned, but the Arizona population was still heavily male, with a ratio of 147 males per 100 females.45 The increasingly steady work offered through the copper industry encouraged more women to live in the mining towns—wives, sisters, cousins, mothers. Their presence signaled the decline of bachelor communities, which gave way to family settlements. Frontier women are often described as plucky, brave, gritty, tenacious, and rambunctious. They were all of that and more. They brought the social anchor of domestic life, a taste of home that many men preferred to an unsettled nomadic life. Anchoring a community, especially from scratch, meant starting with few facilities, being creative and determined. A place whose people had visions of a long-term future changed the mores and norms of communities. Schools and churches were built, and staid social activities, like a simple picnic, burgeoned. As Italian migration to Arizona grew in the 1880s, more immigrant women came seeking a better life. Such a woman needed to epitomize the Italian ideal of a “woman of seriousness,” since in addition to adapting to a rugged frontier, she was learning a new and very different culture. It was a culture not always welcoming to her people. Typically, a man arrived first and later sent for his family. For example, Carlo Perazzo arrived in Arizona in 1875 seeking gold in the Vulture mine near Wickenburg. He soon turned his attention to a small desert town farther south, Phoenix. Sensing that the area would grow and prosper, he sent for his daughters, Louisa, Virginia, and Fredrica, and his sons, Paul and Henry. If single, a man returned home to find a bride when he found a likely place to settle. Giuseppe Bechetti worked in U.S. copper mines and later branched out into businesses. Some fourteen years after leaving Italy, he returned home for a spouse. Ermalinda Amore met him through their mothers’ matchmak- ing and decided her future was in Arizona, with him.46 In a mining town, the traditional woman of seriousness proved a significant aid to her husband. She was schooled in being frugal, agood

Economic and Social Development 29 bargainer, shrewd, and skilled in domestic arts. Carefully darned socks, mended shirts, and a filling dinner made from polenta, a few vegetables, and homemade cheese contributed to keeping a household afloat. Herbal remedies fixed minor maladies, while some women served as midwives. If men were out of work due to a layoff or strike, women bridged the economic gap with domestic work, doing laundry and other small jobs. Where there were enclaves, women lived in continual interaction with other women, both relatives and neighbors. Judith Smith notes that in Providence, Rhode Island, residential proximity made it easy for women to exchange social information, childcare, goods and services, gossip, and mutual aid.47 Such networks were not exclusively Italian, of course, but were important to women of many societies. Thus, immigrant women could form societal networks with those from different regions of Italy, with other Europeans, or with Spanish-speaking Catholics. In the mining towns, women needed these supportive networks for aid in times of distress. Mining was a dangerous occupation, and workers faced frequent injuries. An informal appraisal of accidents reported by Arizona’s state mining inspectors from 1912 to 1915 showed the toll that mining took on men. Several Italian miners suffered fatalities: Gaetano Bruno was caught by a premature blast of dynamite; Antonio Buffoni was smashed into a wall; Giuseppe Tossu got caught in a cave-in; and Joe Aeni’s broken arm led to blood poisoning and death. Others suffered everything from fractured fingers due to shifting boulders (Mike Todrico) to head wounds from falling rocks (Albert Gardoni), fractured ribs from being caught between an ore cart and a chute (Rocco Faletti) to burns from blasts gone awry (Gabriel Abatti and Franco Gianotti).48 A woman made the best of a difficult situation if a breadwinner was injured or killed. She could run a boarding house or find outside employment in a low-skilled job.49 And she could stay in the community to help her children find a better life in the copper state. Arizona’s mining industry grew from a small-scale enterprise to an industry with global connections. In 1915, Arizona had just achieved statehood, and the newly open mineral frontier was producing close to 31 percent of all U.S. copper. The numbers grew from there. A century after the fledgling industry began, in 1978, the copious reserves of copper kept Ari- zona in the lead as the nation’s biggest producer of the metal. Only five of the top fifteen producers were outside Arizona. In the new millennium, prices for copper have soared due to demands from throughout the world, with Arizona again leading the United States in production. The state achieved superstar status among the world’s producers of “red gold.”50

30 Chapter 1 But the enormous profits paid to investors seldom placed the miners in positions of financial comfort. For immigrant workers, being a miner offered steady work during boom times and chances for education and political involvement—all positives. But the drawbacks for newer groups were racialized wages, inferior living conditions, and treatment as outsiders. Workers knew the negatives were mutable, and they sought to improve them.

Economic and Social Development 31 2

The Arizona Tango The Arrival of EuroLatins— Italians and Spaniards

Laggiu nell’Arizona terra di sogni e di chimere . . . Il bandolero stanco scende la sierra misterioso sul suo cavallo bianco

(Over there in Arizona land of dreams and chimera fantasy The tired bandolero descends the mysterious mountain on his white horse) —Andrea Bixio and B. Cherubini, “Il Tango delle Capinere”

The lyrics of the classic Italian tango “Il Tango delle Capinere” tell of a mysterious, fantastic land.1 Arizona’s mineral mysteries were first explored by Italian missionaries, long before waves of immigrants pushed west. Italians entered the Southwest when in 1660 the Spanish king finally allowed priests from Italy to serve in the New World. The priests were intent on bringing the Catholic faith to Native Americans, while others looked for riches. The First Wave: Explorers

Marco da Nizza (usually Hispanicized as de Niza) was born in northern Italy, in the duchy of Savoy. Nizza was a Franciscan priest planning to work with Native Americans. He first traveled to Haiti, Peru, and Mexico. In 1539 Viceroy Mendoza of Mexico appointed him to an expedition guided by Esteban de Dorantes, a Moor. De Dorantes and Nizza were looking for the fabled gold cities of Cibola and Grand Quivira. De Dorantes was killed, but Nizza survived, and his maps and diary from the 1539 trek are possibly the earliest European accounts of Arizona and her native peoples. Enter- ing Arizona from Mexico, the friar favorably described the area that would become Santa Cruz County: “The country round about here looked better than any I had passed through so far.” Near Florence, in eastern Arizona, he met local Pimas and was impressed with the quality of their clothing and turquoise jewelry. Following a north- easterly route, he recorded his observations of central Arizona before reaching New Mexico, where he turned back after learning that De Dorantes had been killed. On Nizza’s second trip through Arizona in 1540, on another Spanish expedition, organized by Francisco de Coronado, he again failed to find the legendary wealth among the Zuni.2 A more recognized Italian missionary was Eusebio Chino, better known as Kino, the German version of his name. He was born in Segno, Italy, and educated in Austria. After joining the Jesuit Order, he was sent to Mexico in 1681, where his faith and scientific skills were put to use. He traveled and mapped some 50,000 square miles of northern Mexico and southern Arizona, also known as Pimeria Alta. Chino also founded numerous missions and introduced cattle and European crops to the area. Although not particularly interested in mining, he noted the presence of gold and silver ores in small mining camps near some missions. In shallow excavations near the Santa Cruz River and Sonoita and Arivaca creeks, Spanish settlers and Indian converts extracted and smelted silver ore.3 Some Spaniards saw the native people as an exploitable resource; however, Chino was proactive in trying to protect Indians from slavery. Unfortunately, he did not get much support from Mexico. Other Italians joined him in Pimeria Alta. Chino was accompanied on his mapping treks by Gianmaria Salvaterra, who went on to found several missions in Baja. Sicilian Jesuit Francisco Xavier Saeta was killed during a Pima rebellion, which inspired Chino to write about him.4 Italians learned about the vast lands of Arizona and northern Mexico from exiled Mexican scholar Francisco Clavigero. When Spanish king

The Arrival of EuroLatins 33 Charles III ordered the Jesuits out of Mexico in 1767, Clavigero found refuge in Bologna, Italy. His masterworks on the history of Mexico and California were published in Italian in the 1780s. These volumes stimulated an early interest among Italians in this corner of the New World.

The Second Wave: The Italians

Waves do not routinely form in the ocean. They grow in response to strong winds, which shape water into mobile swells that move far beyond where they begin. Similarly, immigrant waves grow in response to social and political conditions. Europe was forever changed by the Industrial Revolution in the late 1700s. Economic, demographic, political, and scientific changes began to transform the ancient orders of the Western world, first in England, Germany, and France, arriving only later in Mediterranean countries. Italy was a poor and backward nation with an entrenched feudal system, particularly in the South, which lacked the requisite economic and social infrastructure to industrialize, hampered by the lack of natural resources and new technologies. Food production was limited, with insufficient surplus for exporting. Italy was also poor in mineral deposits important to industrialization, such as coal and iron. The rugged Apennines Moun- tains, running like a spine down the length of Italy, impeded construction of a national railroad system, so essential to industrialization. Furthermore, there were few navigable rivers, leaving many remote areas isolated. Many Italians languished in the outmoded feudal economy, with few outlets for industrious, creative people. Those who wanted change looked to the newly formed United States for inspiration and succor. Thus, the second wave of Italians migrating to Arizona formed in the 1800s. By the 1830s Italian nationalists began to filter into major U.S. cities, like New York and Philadelphia, joining nascent immigrant communities started under British rule.5 Travelers brought back glowing images of America, which were popularized in news articles and fiction, arousing notions of exciting opportunities.6 Northern Italians were better off than their southern counterparts. People in the North were more mobile and benefited slightly from early, major land reclamation projects, the development of a sorely needed elementary school system, and protective customs tariffs. Still, many sought to escape poverty by migrating to the Americas between the 1840s and 1860s. Oceanic imagery is a standard metaphor for migration that emerged to describe the millions who forsook Europe for the United States. Observ- ers compared the shiploads of immigrants reaching American shores to the

34 Chapter 2 flow and cresting of waves deposited on a new shore.7 However, this image is deceptive, giving the impression of an immigrant group firmly deposited as the wave’s swash recedes. Waves, however, are not uniform as they surge up. Some waves flow further up the shore; rocks, tide pools, grasses, and sand dunes break the swell into separate ripples that swirl and eddy into distinct patterns. Like ever-changing waves, the immigrant experience is one of many variations. The south Philadelphia colony of Italian expatriates was first settled in 1750. Joined by many new arrivals, it grew large enough by 1852 for the establishment of the first Italian national parish in the United States, with services in Italian. Early Italian settlers in Philadelphia came from the same area as early travelers to Arizona—the Ligurian city of Chiavari, a coastal city in the Genoa region—which suggests a connection between Pennsylvania and Arizona. Carlo Perazzo, for example, came to Arizona from Chiavari, no doubt hearing of opportunities in the United States from earlier immigrants.8 Ligurians, a sea-faring people, also established a community in San Francisco. Young Giuseppe Enrico Garbarino left Liguria for San Francisco at age fourteen, traveling with his father in 1864. The senior Garbarino returned home, but Giuseppe was lured to Arizona by gold in Yavapai County. He filed and worked mining claims named after the Italian patriots Giuseppe Garibaldi and Giuseppe Mazzini. By 1873 he had settled in Prescott, Arizona, where, known as Joseph, he established a family and remained.9 New York was another major hub for early Italians. Francisco Purcella initially settled there. The benefits of citizenship in this strange new land appealed to him, so that by age twenty, in 1852, he took out naturalization papers.10 But a run on New York City banks in 1857 rippled into a larger national depression, spurring increasing numbers of Italians to explore the Far West. U.S. newspaper L’Eco di Italia articles enticingly described fabulous wealth found by California gold seekers, which fired the imaginations of would-be prospectors. Purcella was among the Italians who departed for California.11 Sea routes to the West Coast were still the best way to travel. Reliable overland routes from the East to Arizona were virtually nonexistent, although the Butterfield Overland Mail stage line began in 1858, traveling on a semiweekly basis from Missouri to Texas, Arizona, and finally California.12 Francisco Purcella likely took the route west followed by sixteen-year-old Carlo Andrea Dondero, who in 1858 sailed from New York to Panama, crossed the isthmus on foot, then boarded another ship to San Diego.13

The Arrival of EuroLatins 35 Purcella would eventually enter Arizona from Southern California. When he first arrived in Los Angeles, he met fellow Italians who were already seasoned western hands.14 As gold mining took off in Arizona, Italians left California to travel east. Arizona had been a “separate and distinct, perhaps even isolated place” until gold strikes, like brilliant lightning strikes, illuminated the territory.15 Jacob Snively found gold in 1857, drawing prospectors to Gila City. When this strike played out, Pauline Weaver’s rich gold placers on the Colorado River drew another big crowd. Ligurian Manuel Ravena suffered an attack of gold fever that sent him to Arizona in 1861, leaving behind a successful business in Los Angeles. Francisco Purcella followed his paesano, Ravena, to La Paz, Arizona. In 1863 Purcella and fellow Italian Enrico Lambert became claimants at the Esmeralda gold and silver lode. The 1864 territorial census listed Purcella as a clerk in La Paz, however. Ravena, now a successful trader in La Paz, taught Francisco a valuable lesson: merchants usually become wealthier than prospectors.16 By 1865, Francisco had moved on to Hardyville, in Mohave County, another boom site for gold and silver mining. Restless, he moved to Yavapai County in 1870, following an amazing strike in the Bradshaw Mountains that drew miners to the banks of the Hassayampa River. There Prescott emerged as a major town with a network of roads that put it on the map as “the most vital center of settlement north of the Santa Cruz Valley.”17 Purcella bought a dry goods store in Prescott from Ravena, whose investment in the Conquest gold mine paid off in the millions when he sold it the next year.18 Francisco Purcella finally settled in the agricultural town of Phoenix, joining other immigrant pioneers, including Carlo Perazzo and his children. Phoenix’s immigrant community was small and scattered, kept in contact by social networks of business and common origin. The small group, like early Italians in other Arizona settlements, became involved in the larger Mexican community. For example, in the 1870 census of Pima County, several Italians Hispanicized their names: Juan Moresco, a Tucson gardener; Domingo Jovanita, another gardener married to a Mexican woman; and Juan Avenente, a grocer in Tubac. In Phoenix Italians joined Mexican fraternal organizations, like the Alianza Hispano-Americana Lodge. When Frank Purcella became ill, Don Jesus Otero, a prominent member of the Mexican community, cared for him.19 Ravena, Purcella, Lambert, Perazzo, and others in mining were primary links in later chain migration routes between northern Italy and Arizona.

36 Chapter 2 Almost 80 immigrants, in a study of 560 Italians who voted in Arizona, took out their naturalization papers between 1851 and 1879, prior to the third and major wave of Italian immigration. Data from Arizona’s Great Registers of Voters show that most of these early pioneer immigrants registered in the West, confirming the presence of early immigrant “explorers” in the American frontier. This is significant since Italians were often slow to naturalize, usually harboring plans to return home.20

The Third Wave: Movement West

Arizona’s fame returned to Italy with immigrants. Northern Italians were precursors of the third tsunami-like migratory wave that left from Italy’s southern regions before restrictive new U.S. immigration laws in the 1920s made them unwelcomed. The far edge of this larger wave of Italian migrants was deposited “laggiu nell’Arizona.” Italy had become a nation by 1870, but political unity did not mean rapid improvement for ordinary people. In 1877, a parliamentary report on the conditions of rural people laid out the hardships peasants faced. The massive report showed that malaria plagued the South and pellagra the North. Housing problems, child labor, and illiteracy were also prevalent. New reforms aided northern peasants, but leaders of the emerging nation were slow to grapple with the “Southern Question,” a code phrase reflecting the economic and social backwardness of the South, which according to Antonio Gramsci was an exploited agricultural colony of the industrializing North.21 The “blessings” of unification came to peasants in the form of increasing taxes, military conscription, loss of their traditional privileges under feudalism, increasing deforestation, malaria, and land fragmentation.22 One effect of modernization that reached the South proved a mixed blessing. The introduction of modern medicine and sanitation lowered the mortality rate for postpartum women, infants, and young children so that from 1861 to 1901, the population in the South doubled from six to twelve million. This growth disrupted the fragile balance between the food sup- ply and population size. Circumstances were in place to send a newer, bigger wave of migration to advanced industrial nations needing cheap labor to implement and support their economic growth. The government’s indif- ference to departures evaporated as incredible numbers of peasants left, but elite southern landowners wanted no reforms to challenge their privileged circumstances.23 Once the pattern of leaving was established, reforms came too late. Italians were the first people to embark on a large-scale global migratory

The Arrival of EuroLatins 37 path dispersing throughout the world wherever industrialization nudged aside existing economic and political orders to create new opportunities. La bella Italia lost some twenty million inhabitants between the French Revolution and World War II, according to Donna Gabaccia and Fraser Ottanelli. Emigrants’ destinations ranged from nearby European nations to Africa, Australia, and North and South America. After 1900, Italians formed the major element in large-scale migration from continental Europe, top- ping 100,000 for the first time as numbers continued to climb.24 If desolate conditions in Italy encouraged leaving, an industrializing America provided an ideal target for the migrants. The rapid expansion of the American economy after the Civil War demanded a large pool of cheap labor, which was not filled by blacks, who generally remained tied to the land in the agricultural South. Large Italian communities grew in major American cities in the East and Midwest. Some Italians from these urban communities would eventually find their way to Arizona Territory.25 Others already had an Arizona destination in mind upon leaving Italy. The West had a different settlement pattern than the East. Northern Ital- ians continued their movement to western states, rather than settling in urban areas in the East or Midwest. Arizona’s Italian immigrant population represented a typical wavelet to the West, with most still from northern regions of Italy. In 1904, for example, 89 percent of the new Italians in Arizona were from the North, contrary to general trends for Italian immigration but typical of the West’s Italian population in 1904. In the West 77 percent of the Italians were northerners, compared with only 23 percent from the South, or mezzogiorno, in contrast to the southern dominance elsewhere.26 The difference between southern and northern Italians went deeper than geography. The complex history of Italy shows that different groups colonized various regions—Celts and Germanic tribes in northern areas like Piemonte, and Greeks, Moors, and Spaniards in southern areas like Sicily. Different rulers led to differing political and economic systems. Southern Italy was more deeply entrenched in a repressive feudal environment, with peasants relegated to the bottom of society. Over time pronounced linguistic systems emerged, making one dialect quite different from another. When cultural traits are added, long-standing beliefs about the characteristics of inhabitants of various regions took on the quality of distinct prejudices. Broadly speaking, northerners saw themselves as a cut above southerners, a judgment some Americans shared. Southerners were viewed as clannish, explosive, and a shade or two darker than northerners. However, to some Americans all Italians were outsiders, and the North- South split did not make a difference.

38 Chapter 2 Preliminary research on the sorting process by Arizona clerks of the early 1900s gives insights into general social categories used to symbolically show where Italians fit in. Arizona birth and death records showed instances where Italians’ race was designated as Italian, not as white. Spaniards and more often Mexicans were also classified separately from whites.27 At the time, race and color were used interchangeably, so color was a proxy term for nonwhite or Other. On naturalization forms, Italians might be checked off as white, but their complexion was often listed as dark, significant in a society where darkness is stigmatized. Furthermore, while many Italians in Arizona were from northern Italy, they were often classified as dark, so that darkness, in the eyes of white clerks, was not reserved for those from the mezzogiorno. Examining the naturalization papers for eighty-one Italian men in Arizona revealed that a lone south- erner was classified as fair, but 53 percent of those from the North were listed as color white and complexion dark, not exactly a whiter shade of pale.28 The earliest southern Italians to build links to Arizona are unknown, although three ambitious young men from near Naples arrived in the 1860s seeking gold. Sadly, their dreams were ended too soon by death. All that remains is a spot in mining lore called Organ Grinders’ Ledge, found by Luigi Amati, Antonio Dantilo, and Giuseppe Marinello, who, allegedly equipped with their monkeys and organ grinders, trekked into the forbidding Date Creek Mountains of Yavapai County. While the term “greenhorn” was coined for such naïve prospectors, the trio somehow stumbled upon a rich gold ledge near the Santa Maria River. Unfortu- nately, Hualapai raiders attacked their party and all prospectors perished.29 If the number of southern Italians in Arizona was small they were still significant in some areas, like the mining town of Morenci, where a group from Calabria settled.30 Transmigrants Some immigrants explored several areas before deciding where to put down roots. Clearly, the western transmigration for Italians was partly in response to economic and social opportunities. As migrants moved West, they often had to work their way across the United States. Their moves allowed them to acquire what sociologist Pierre Bourdieu called social capital, in contrast to economic capital, in the form of expanded networks; similarly, what he called cultural capital related, for immigrants, to increased language, political, and economic skills and more comfort with the new, alien culture.31 Some transmigrants became business and political leaders

The Arrival of EuroLatins 39 when they finally settled down, while others led more modest lives but still gained their personal dreams of economic self-sufficiency. The Great Register study shows that of the 560 men, most were not youngsters when they decided to register to vote—only 14 percent were in their twenties. The majority, 42 percent, were in their thirties, with 24 percent in their for- ties, and an additional 10 percent in their fifties. The remainder was over sixty. This is a definite contrast to the transitory Italian laborers in the West whom Gunther Peck studied, all aged nineteen to twenty-nine.32 The age pattern for Arizona registrants suggests that with age and positive experiences came the decision to permanently forsake Italy and become involved in American political decisions by voting. The Great Register data show that the vast majority of men, 83 percent, naturalized in western states, 13 percent in the Midwest, and only 4 percent in the East. Most headed away from heavy concentrations of Italians in the eastern seaboard fairly soon after their arrival. Forty-six percent were naturalized in Arizona. However, 16 percent were naturalized in California, indicating a migration to the furthest point west and then a movement east. Seven percent of the immigrants were naturalized in Illinois, the only Midwest state with a sizable number who moved on to Arizona. However, they were well represented in western mining states. Five percent were naturalized in Montana, and 4 percent each in Colorado, New Mexico, and Nevada. Arizona was a destination for some, but for others it was a stopover place to accumulate economic and social capital to fund dreams elsewhere. Dominico Bertaglio (or Bertoglio) worked as a miner in Wisconsin and later Arizona, probably in Globe, where numerous families of that name lived. After scraping together a small stake, he heard of opportunities in Spokane, Washington. He bought a small mercantile store, doing well enough to later become a founder of the Spokane Telephone Company, and rather than work in mines, he invested in them.33 Not everyone was sure they wanted to remain in the United States. Michele Verretto, age eighteen, started off in Kansas but left to try silver mining in Tombstone. In 1891, he and fifteen other men left Tombstone for Congress Junction, to work at developing the Congress mine. He found work as a blacksmith in 1894, sharpening the drills used to bore a tunnel built through the mountains to Poland Junction. In 1894, Mike worked at the Verde Central and then at the Copper Chief mine, near Jerome. He became a “bird of passage,” as people were called who had a tendency to return home frequently. Mike shuttled back and forth to Italy nine times in the years from 1887 to 1913, when World War I hostilities forced him

40 Chapter 2 to remain there until the war ended. During this prolonged trip, he married Emilia Ponsetto, who bore their son Oreste in the same house where Michele had been born forty-one years before; Rusty was eight when he arrived in America. Back in Arizona, Mike worked at the Sheldon Mine in Walker, Arizona, and at the less famous Copper Queen mine in Stoddart, Arizona, near Mayer. Eventually, he turned to farming, but his mining days caught up with him and he died from silicosis.34 Traveling along the northern transportation corridor to the West, Italians joined Slavs and Greeks as a small but visible group of labor migrants.35 Some scholars claim that a higher proportion of northern Italians moved west because they were more aggressive, better educated, and wealthier than southerners.36 At this point there is, however, no evidence to support this view for Arizona. Often northern Italians did not come to Arizona directly but worked their way cross-country in a series of low-paying jobs, as Dorothy Bryant’s character Anna Giardino describes in recounting her childhood experiences growing up in a migratory immigrant family: “Home is, the world is, a cabin on a muddy road up the hill to a mine. It is called Illinois, Colorado, Utah, Montana. We move, but it is always the same cabin, road, mine. We move west.”37 Once in Arizona, Italians entered a range of occupations, according to a special 1900 U.S. Census of Occupations, but mining occupied most. The occupational census included 575 men in the survey. The majority, 425, or 74 percent, worked in manufacturing, with most of them in mining, some 335 men. When comparing Italians with earlier European arrivals—the Germans, Scandinavians, and Irish—the 1900 census shows these groups were less likely to work in mining than Italians were.38 Occupational information from the Great Registers based on 170 immigrants gives longitudinal insights on occupations. Again, most, 51 percent, were employed in manufacturing, and 39 percent were miners. An interesting difference emerges, although an exact comparison is not possible since the Great Registers represent longitudinal trends, while the census is focused on one period. While acknowledging this limitation, however, when using the same categories, a much higher percentage in the census, 74 percent, were in manufacturing, with corre- spondingly lower percentages in trade and other fields. Those registered to vote were more likely to be self-employed, such as merchants, saloon or restaurant owners, or ranchers. This may reflect a higher educational level, longer residence (and thus increased cultural and social capital), more economic resources, or other factors among the registered immigrants as opposed to the general Italian population.39

The Arrival of EuroLatins 41 Most Italians did not come in response to inducements offered by ethnic labor brokers, called padroni, who supplied workers to many other western states.40 Only one project where labor brokers were used stands out—the construction of Roosevelt Dam. Black workers were recruited from Galveston, Texas, to work with Apache, Mexican, Irish, German, and Austrian men willing to put up with the severe climate, alternating between freezing winters and scorching summers, in the rugged Sierra Ancha and Mazatzal mountains of the eastern mountain zone. Several accounts of Italians arriving at the Roosevelt site mention gangs of workers recruited from New York and Pennsylvania. Eighty Italian “rock men” traveled from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, to Globe on special cars at the contractor’s expense so he could put them to work quickly.41 The Labor Information Office for Italians, initially subsidized by the Italian government to place Italians in jobs, also sent some Italian laborers to Arizona.42 Italians learned of Arizona in other ways, such as Arizona boosterism designed to attract newcomers. The state of Arizona and some counties formed immigration bureaus to hasten the influx of new arrivals by dispens- ing reams of hyperbole praising the area. An 1887 booklet prepared by the Maricopa County Immigration Union states, for example, that “the immigrant will find here cheap lands, and an abundance of water. . . . Phoenix sits on her emerald throne, adorned with a wealth of fruits and flowers, of shady groves, and sparkling streams.”43 How many actually responded to such overblown tracts is unknown, but Phoenix did attract a fair number of Italians, and the land was inexpensive. Many newcomers relied on friends, neighbors, and family members for reassurance that a new opportunity was worthwhile. The Italians’ grapevine of job tips was fueled by letters home and returning peasants, who were now big shots spreading their newfound wealth around, and possibly looking for promising spouses. To Arizona’s Eastern Copper Camps Whatever attraction the territory had, the occupational patterns of the immigrants reflect, in part, their settlement patterns in Arizona. Halfof the Italians in the Great Registers were in eastern counties with copper mining: Cochise with 20 percent, Gila with 16 percent, and the Clifton- Morenci area with 14 percent of immigrants. Yavapai, with 23 percent, was a mining area in western Arizona. Italians in Yavapai County were scattered throughout several towns like Prescott, Jerome, Congress, and Poland, or smaller communities like Big Bug and Skull Valley. In contrast those in the other counties clustered in major towns, such as Globe.44

42 Chapter 2 Globe. The story of the Abello family of Globe, Arizona, gives insight into how the networking process worked.45 The largest concentration of Italians in Globe came from the northern region of Piemonte. Simone Abello was born in 1868 in the village of Stroppo in the province of Cuneo, Piemonte—hence his nickname Cune. He ranged throughout Africa, Australia, and South America working as a stonemason and blacksmith. On one return trip, Simone married Antonia. Like many single Italian women, she was caught in a conflicted decision-making process. Many small villages became almost devoid of young, eligible men because most, caught up in migration fever, had left, never to return. Those who came home, however, often cut a dashing figure with their American clothes, gifts for the family, and amazing stories of their new life abroad. A girl, perhaps barely in her teens, had to decide whether to embark on a life-changing journey, perhaps never to return home, with someone who might be a virtual stranger. Antonia took the risk and with Simone traveled to Buenos Aires, Argentina, where they planned to settle. Argentina was an extremely popular destination for Italians, since the government sought to Europeanize the population in hopes of displac- ing aboriginal people, already decimated by violent eradication efforts. In Argentina, Italians did better than those in New York, according to Samuel Baily.46 However, Simone’s older brother, Francisco, wrote glowing reports of Arizona, where “gold was everywhere.” The adventurer in Simone responded. Leaving his wife and two sons in Argentina, he followed his brothers (Giuseppe had already arrived in 1898) to Globe. After traveling by ship, he disembarked in San Francisco in 1901 and went directly to the booming mining town. He quickly made a decision to stay in Globe, filing his declaration of intent to become a citizen in 1902. He found himself mining for copper, not gold, in a company-owned mine, together with many other immigrants. True, his brother was honest in promoting Globe as a boomtown, although silver, not gold, first dominated mining there. Once silver played out, copper came into its own, in the 1890s. Then Globe grew in size and population diversity, aided by a rail link in 1898. The Old Dominion copper mine, bolstered by corporate investments in the early 1900s, came to symbolize local mining. The mine was operated by a holding company, while stock belonged to the Phelps Dodge Company.47 Simone soon saved enough to send for Antonia and the boys. Natural- ized in 1906, he registered to vote in the same year under his new Ameri- can name Simon Abell. Simon left the mines to use his masonry skills again on the construction of Roosevelt Dam. Returning to Globe, he opened a

The Arrival of EuroLatins 43 grocery store that remained in the family for decades. Simone Abello represented one part of the dominant Piemontese community that became established in Globe.

Bisbee. The nascent mining camp of Bisbee in Cochise County eventually attracted hundreds of workers from throughout the nation. Italians came to Cochise County from two principal corridors. The earliest took an eastern route from California. They were often from the second wave of Italians to Arizona who had seen the state’s mining grow from small-time to huge corporate mines. Most of the Italians hoped to strike it rich but were flexible enough to turn a profit elsewhere. Pasquale Nigro was naturalized in California in 1875 but within five years relocated to Tucson, Arizona, in Pima County, where many Italians from California felt comfortable with the Latin cultural ambience established by Mexican settlers. Pasquale was not content, however, so he pulled up stakes to explore opportunities in Tombstone during the silver boom. He opened a bar and dance hall, Comet Saloon, on Allen Street with Rocco Lobracco. But mining was never far from Nigro’s heart, so he spent his spare time at his Margarita mine. Ads for the lively Comet Saloon featured the dancing, billiards, and pool tables available, all graced by elegant bar lamps from Chicago. While German beer or Irish whiskey seems more likely to be found in a mining frontier bar than chianti, Italian saloonkeepers were ubiquitous in the West, often scraping together savings earned as miners to open a bar. Nigro displayed an Italian affinity for vino by constructing a sizeable wine cellar.48 Immigrants prefer to start low-capital, easily liquidated businesses, which perfectly describes saloon keeping. Such businesses were fairly uncomplicated and allowed an owner to employ others from the same ethnic background, in hopes that such employees would be more trustworthy. Sometimes a bar consisted of planks set on two barrels, serving whatever booze could be hauled in. And there was always a need for these “multi- functional institutions.” Mary Murphy observes that the saloon often came before hotels, churches, schools, and civic buildings and served informally as post office, employment agency, and bank. Being able to hold your liquor became a sign of requisite toughness in these masculine strongholds, and success was celebrated by paying for everyone.49 Constantino Aira, known as John, arrived in Bisbee from the East, a route more typical of the third wave of migrants. He left northern Italy and eastern places behind as he journeyed to find work in Missouri coal mines. Although the state is not known for coal today, because of the

44 Chapter 2 high sulfur content of local bituminous coal, it was the first state west of the Mississippi to mine it commercially. Coal mining by 1903, when John took it up, used Italians mostly as untrained laborers. In the late 1890s, Italians moved into the industry in increasing, record numbers. Only a fraction of the immigrants were trained, a few learning mining skills abroad in France, Germany, Austria, and Egypt, for example, before enter- ing the United States. The coal mining John entered was dangerous, as most mining is, made more risky by a combination of unskilled workers and lax safety laws. Fur- thermore, coal mining was now deskilled. A skilled coal miner, responsible for his own tools, drilling, blasting, and timbering, was replaced by machines and low-skilled workers. Understandably, skilled native-born miners resented the newcomers as much as their counterparts in copper did.50 John left Missouri to join the small Piemontese community in Bisbee, where he was part of the large Caretto clan of his wife, Dominica. John’s brother lived in nearby Douglas, completing the family circle. John and Minnie, as the couple preferred to be called, settled in the town’s Italian Quarter on Brewery Gulch. He worked at the famous Copper Queen mine but planned to return to farming. The Airas managed this transition by going into dairy farming in Zacatecas Canyon, among Mexican homesteaders. While keeping the farm going, the energetic couple, aided by their seven children, opened a bakery and later a grocery store.51

Clifton-Morenci. The Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf area was more open ethnically than the other eastern camps, so much so that it was labeled a Mexican camp. One element behind this was the presence of a Jewish pioneering family who helped settle the area. Robert Metcalf had approached Henry and Charles Lesinsky of Silver City, New Mexico, to provide needed funds to develop the Longfellow mine. Later splitting off from them, he developed the Metcalf area, and they, with their uncle Julius Freudenthal, formed the San Francisco Mining Company in 1873, keeping the mine. The Lesinsky family encouraged Mexican workers from Silver City to move to Arizona and help develop the new area.52 Arizona’s initial reception for Jewish arrivals was warm, providing general social and economic acceptance. Many came from advanced social standings in urban settings and were well educated. A lack of visible community allowed them to blend into the white population, a situation that later changed. Their family networks gave new arrivals economic stability, permitting these immigrants to have an impact in the other eastern copper camps too. The Lewisohns were involved in Globe’s Old Dominion

The Arrival of EuroLatins 45 mine, and Lewis Zeckendorf’s investment in Bisbee’s Copper Queen Min- ing Company helped launch it into success.53 Italians in the Mexican camp came from three different regional groups. The Piemontese forged ties to all three eastern towns, while the Lombardese and Calabrese were most prominent in the Clifton area. Many Italian miners in the United States came from Cuggiono, Lombardia. The flames that fanned emigration from this region came from a sense of injustice based on the clear hierarchy of wealth, since a few wealthy families controlled the area. The growing population of poor, often landless farmers had little hope of survival, let alone economic advancement. Hope beckoned in the form of emigration, however. In 1880 a padrone sponsored a group of laborers to work in the copper mines of Michigan. St. Louis, Missouri, became their center, however, as they turned a neighborhood known as The Hill into an Italian enclave. The city offered jobs mining lead and clay, while the state offered jobs mining coal.54 Others went to the bituminous coal belts of Pennsylvania, Illinois, and West Virginia. Salvatore Sirianni, a Lombardese, was naturalized in 1888 in Iron County, Missouri, located in the St. Francois Mountains of the Ozark Highlands. He then moved on to Arizona. Sirianni initially worked in the Clifton area in the Garfield mines, later moving into small businesses and community life, which earned him a fulsome tribute in death. “He was the recognized leader of the Italian colony, and commanded the esteem and respect of all the people. He was a kind-hearted, good man, ever ready to assist those in need or distress. . . . His death will be a loss to the community, as he was a good and useful citizen.”55 Other connections between Missouri and Arizona came from Ypolito Casearello, naturalized in Missouri in 1885 and living in Metcalf, Arizona, by 1894. Emil Merlo and Gaetano Pariani, both naturalized in 1896 in St Louis, likely heard of Arizona prospects from him or Sirianni.56 Many migrants from Calabria came from the town of Lago in the province of Cosenza, forming a distinct chain migration to Arizona. Calabria is a part of southern Italy that lost many citizens to migration. The Vozzas were one of the earliest families to settle in Clifton, where Louis was born in 1887 to Joseph and Serafina Vozza. Once the network was in place, others came. By 1910 Joe was joined by Frank, Antonio, and Fernando Vozza.57 Pasquale Chiapetti tried his luck mining in Africa but returned to Calabria after becoming ill. Hearing of work in Clifton, he borrowed money to travel again, hoping that the dry climate would curb the tuberculosis he had contracted in Ethiopia. By 1902, he sent for Filomena and

46 Chapter 2 their son, Fernando Caesar, since Pasquale had found steady work in the Longfellow mine, while Gabriel Chiapetti worked at the Montezuma mine. Upon arrival Filomena found many familiar faces from Lago, including her brother Domenico Abate, who married Pasquale’s sister Angela.58 Other families that formed the nucleus of the community included the Pulice, Granieri, and Scagna families. Although those from Lago tended to intermarry, some of their children chose spouses from other groups. Erminia Vozza, for example, married Alberto Cruz of Spain. Spanish and Italian EuroLatins formed wide-ranging cultural ties to ease communication, as happened in other locations, like Tampa, Florida. In Buenos Aires, Argentina, a patois mixing Spanish with Italian, known as cocoliche, emerged. In the Clifton area, Spanish and Italian immigrants, together with Mexicans, could also communicate in an Italianized Spanish.59

Spanish Miners

The Spanish were late but important arrivals in Arizona during industrialization and are often overlooked as a separate immigrant group. Vin- cent Parrillo’s expanded catalog of southern European immigrants to the United States during industrialization includes Armenians, Turks, Greeks, Italians, and Portuguese, but not Spaniards.60 There are several reasons for this omission, including Spaniards’ rather late pattern of migration and the penchant of researchers to classify them, based on surnames, as part of a generic Spanish-speaking population.61 European immigration slumped during World War I, but the Spanish, being neutral, arrived in their largest numbers since the United States had become a nation.62 Still, despite the general European decline in overall numbers, Spaniards were vastly outnumbered by other immigrants and could be justifiably ignored on this basis. Nevertheless, in select mining areas, the Spanish presence affected labor and ethic relations.63 Spain, like other Mediterranean countries, industrialized later than northern Europe did. Most Spaniards emigrated looking for economic opportunity, since peasants eked out only a marginal existence with poor soil, scant rainfall, crude farming techniques, and botched land reform. When conditions were right, from 1880, for mass migration, South America beckoned. The main stream of emigrants went to rapidly emerging former colonies like Argentina and Venezuela, or to those still under Spanish control: Cuba and Puerto Rico.64 Cuba’s independence in 1898 made many recent Spanish labor migrants unwelcome, and they moved on to the United States.

The Arrival of EuroLatins 47 Spaniards with mining experience went into rural areas. West Virginia labor recruiters, for example, attracted a significant number of Spanish immigrants for the zinc refineries and coal mines, so that by 1919, Span- iards were scattered throughout the state. They were also found in the coal camps of Las Animas and Huerofano, Colorado, mixed among other southern Europeans, Hispanos, and Mexicans.65 Some workers came from Spain’s northern coal-mining regions, Galicia and Asturias, which in the period 1860–1880 experienced a boom in mining funded by foreign investors.66 When that economic spurt ended, many displaced workers migrated, some on foot, to southern Spain, because in the province of Huelva, copper mining was being moved into the modern era by outside firms. The revival of copper mining meant Spanish immigrants had more experience in the industry than the typical Italian. The capacious Iberian Pyrite Belt in Huelva is one of the oldest and largest sulfide deposits in the world.67 Copper was first extracted in antiquity but basically remained undisturbed until the 1800s, when French and British investors brought new technologies to excavate the deposits. In 1862 the French interests quickly sold out to a British and Scottish company that established the Tharsis Sulphur & Copper Co, Ltd.68 The nearby Rio Tinto Company was formed by British interests a decade later. This firm invested in major development of both underground and open pit mining. Miners, who migrated to Huelva from other regions in Spain and Portugal, formed their own community apart from the rural folks. Anar- chist and communist philosophies, brought to the mines by new workers, flourished. A bloody confrontation in 1888 between the workers and mine managers became known in the collective memory as The Day of the Shots. Outrage over the massacre of miners and their families pushed the company to improve treatment of workers.69 However, the improved atmosphere soured again in 1900 at the same time emigration from Spain began to increase. Some miners left to try the United States, and Arizona specifically. There is certainly evidence of contact at Rio Tinto between the British management and U.S. copper mining interests. British managers William Carlyle and Walter Browning gained their copper mining experience in the United States and in Mexico.70 A strike by Tharsis workers in 1900 was quickly squelched, leaving some workers thinking their best option was emigration. Meanwhile, Tharsis miners heard of opportunities in the United States when in 1901 the Tharsis Company looked into acquiring the Ray, Arizona, mines, which another British company, the Ray Copper Mines Ltd., ultimately purchased.71 Perhaps the presence of Spanish

48 Chapter 2 workers later in Ray stemmed from this connection between Huelva and Arizona. As noted in a 1914 article on Ray, “The Spaniards who work here generally come direct from their native land. They are a fine looking lot of men and are said to be good workers. When they have accumulated a couple of thousand dollars they return to Spain to live in ease the balance of their lives.”72 The most vivid physical representation of the racialized housing patterns in Arizona was found in the mining town of Ray. The Spanish were in a satellite community between Ray, where white miners lived, and the Mexican community of Sonora. Spaniards’ settlement of Barcelona as described by Frankie Corral Olmos, “was a lovely area over- looking Teapot Mountain. The Spaniards brought with them seeds and cut- tings, of citrus trees, peach trees, apricots, grapes, and figs, from home. . . . The sweet limes they brought with [were] the best limes I have ever tasted. We’d walk to Barcelona from Sonora when I was about five years old and it seemed to be very far away. . . . As I grew older I realized it wasn’t that far. It was only a quarter of a mile away.”73 A connection from Spain to Clifton was forged by men like Fermin Palicio, an Asturian mining expert hired in Spain by the Arizona Copper Company.74 In Morenci Spaniards lived mingled with Italians and Mexi- cans. However, in Metcalf and the tiny settlement of Shannon, they established distinct bachelor quarters. Neither of the white camps—Globe or Bisbee—had significant Spanish settlements. Perhaps as later arrivals, emigrants from Spain assessed the racial climate of white camps and decided not to settle in those restrictive environments. Jerome, however, had a visible Spanish population, mixed in with the Mexican population. Very recent Mexican and Spanish-born men lived in Tent Town, a semipermanent place near the mines that sprouted up because livable space was limited. However, most Spanish speakers lived in Mexican Town, which was subdivided into several barrios. Here, the lack of sanitation and the densely packed housing were fire and health hazards. Spanish families lived in El Barrio Chicano, below the commercial center, and El Verde. Although the Spanish population lived within the Mexican area, they kept their own identity, according to Nancy Prichard: “The Spaniards kept to their own section of Mexican Town and had their own lodging houses. Although the two groups generally interacted in a positive manner in both social and occupational settings, tempers between the Spanish and Mexi- can-born populations ran hot on occasions.”75 In Arizona, experienced Spaniards quickly became an important part of the labor force.76 Italians had dominated the southern European presence in 1900, but by 1910 a rapid increase in Spaniards meant they made

The Arrival of EuroLatins 49 up more than a third of these migrants. The gap narrowed more by the 1920 census, with Italians less than half of southern Europeans, while Span- iards had risen to 38 percent, with late-arriving Greeks at 12 percent.77 The EuroLatin groups generally got along, since Spaniards also drew wages in a middle place in the occupational scale. And due to their anarchist bent, they proved willing to ally themselves with Italians and Mexicans to battle for equitable working conditions.

The Context of Reception

As Italian numbers in the United States increased, so did anti-Italian attitudes. The founding fathers displayed ambivalence toward immigrants flocking to the fledgling country that would persist among their descen- dants into this millennium. On the one hand, George Washington saw the value of useful newcomers, but on the other hand he fretted about the pres- ervation of non–Anglo Saxon cultures in ethnic communities. Others, nota- bly Federalists, saw newcomers as potential troublemakers—the riffraff of other nations who could infect the barely emerging American character with traits other nations wanted to discard. Still, the practical need for workers meant that anti-immigrant legislation focused on issues of naturalization and deportation. It was not until the 1800s that numerous restric- tionist acts gained favor. All groups faced some degree of animosity, including other northern Europeans, such as Scandinavians and Germans. The Irish had an even harder time of it, particularly because of their Catholic faith. As those considered more distant from native-born whites started to arrive in significant numbers, namely Asians, Latinos, and southeastern Europeans, sentiment to cordon off the nation flourished.78 Prejudice and discrimination were nurtured by nativists, which encouraged restrictionists to pursue limiting southeastern European entry into the United States. John Higham identified three major trends exemplify- ing nativist concerns toward these new immigrants: an anti-Catholic sentiment, a dread of radicals prone to social revolution, and a racial point of reference supporting the view that “the United States belongs in some special sense to the Anglo-Saxon ‘race.’” A fourth fear, focused on Italians, was that they were inherently violent, possessing a criminal character derived from Cain’s fratricidal nature.79 Animosity toward new European groups ran deep, linked to perceived biological deficiencies that would mean assimilation could not erase rough edges or bleach a person of swarthy color into becoming a good citizen. In a

50 Chapter 2 period when nationality and race were conflated into a single category labeled race, eugenicists and some social scientists issued warnings about those cultures they thought could contaminate a purer Nordic white racial stock. Social scientist Richmond Mayo-Smith’s anti-immigrant bias was glossed with a scholarly style in his popular book Emigration and Immigration, which accused new Europeans of diluting whites’ genetic superiority and contam- inating the freedom-loving, self-reliant, and rational basis of the American character.80 Europeans from the Mediterranean bore the strongest stigma. As Handlin noted, racist doctrines beginning in the 1890s claimed “the peoples of the Mediterranean region were biologically different from those of North- ern and Western Europe in that the differences sprang from an inferiority of blood and could be observed in certain social characteristics.”81 Called wop or Dago or Guinea, Italians were assumed to be inferior.82 This image of Italians stems from a long-held Italophobia among the British, according to Robert Harney, that stretched back to the Middle Ages. Fur- ther onus placed on Italians related to the antiquated notion of a so-called Latin race. For white purists, the label Latin carried implications of racial mixing.83 William Davenport, writing in 1904, claimed that Italian immigrants should admit their Latin race was “dishonest, hot-blooded, ignorant and dirty.” Americans familiar with Roman literature, as part of an education in classics, could argue that Italians descended from a non-European people. Rome’s equivalent of Homer was Virgil, whose classic story of the founding of the Roman Empire makes it clear that the Trojan Aeneas, who was a refugee from Asia Minor, founded the “Latin Race.” Moreover, the extensive colonization of southern Italy by North African Arabs led both northern Italian and American writers to describe southerners as dusky off- spring of Moors and Europeans.84 Nativists’ beliefs aided an emerging notion of white supremacy to create racialized categories of difference between native-born whites and the later European arrivals. Belief in the superiority of Anglo Saxons and their near kin bore fruit in a series of quotas that severely limited numbers of southeastern Europeans. Soon after the wave of southeasterners crested, they learned that their kind was not welcomed. The first quota law restricting southeastern Europeans (Asians were barred already) passed in 1921, closely followed by the National Origins Act of 1924, stringently limiting numbers of new Europeans in favor of established white stock. Top off the quotas with a far-reaching depression in the next decade and the slamming of freedom’s door reverberated throughout the world.85 The beliefs that Italians should be feared, promulgated by nativists, seeped into the social fabric of a western territory being hurried into

The Arrival of EuroLatins 51 modernization by economic interests. Arizona’s economy expanded during the Progressive Era, which led to introducing these newer immigrants. Wages were tied to race. As Mexican miners became experienced workers, they still received lower wages than whites, as did the new Europeans. In Arizona copper mines using large numbers of Italian and Mexican workers, Bisbee and Clifton, the two ethnic groups became fused, at times, into a lesser paid wage category, called Latin here, that later included Span- iards. In contrast, the same report presenting wages in Montana, where there were no Mexicans, found that most northern Italians were in the second highest wage category. While a number of factors need to be explored to compare Montana and Arizona wage structures, the absence of Mexi- cans in the former seems a likely factor in the classifications of Italians. A middle category for “Latin” Mexicans could, in the minds of owners, justify similar treatment for other Latins.86 By the time the Spaniards entered the labor scene, English-speaking foremen and shift bosses ran things. Anglos were also in remaining skilled jobs that were necessary to operate machinery and mines. Employers sometimes gave Spaniards unskilled jobs and wages that they offered to their Mexican immigrant and Mexican American employees. The Dillingham Report (1910) data included scant information on Spaniards in western states, with the exception of Arizona, singling out the Clifton and Bisbee districts for unfair wage differences. There were enough Spaniards in Ari- zona to merit their inclusion in the report on copper mining. The report showed that native whites and northern Europeans were in the top two wage categories, earning between $3.50 and $4.00 per day. In contrast most Spaniards earned between $2.50 and $3.00; Italians were a notch below that at $2.00–2.50; and Mexicans were even lower at $1.75–$2.00. These wages and the gap between the Anglos and Latins led the commis- sioners to conclude that while generally southern and eastern Europeans did not face wage bias, Arizona “discrimination has been shown against the . . . Italians, Spaniards, as well as against the Mexicans.”87 Nationally this racialized wage discrepancy is being reexamined. Joel Perlmann argues in his recent book on ethnic labor, Italians Then, Mexicans Now, that using an ethnic wage ratio allows for more accurate comparisons across time between earlier and more recent immigrants. Perlmann’s new findings document a much larger wage gap existing between native whites and low-skilled southeastern European immigrants in 1910 than has been previously documented. In 1910 these later Europeans “averaged 50 percent to 60 percent of the native white mean wage.”88 His macro-level analysis is complemented by the micro-level research covered here.

52 Chapter 2 The reception EuroLatins received in Arizona placed them in an in- between status. This status was reinforced by hostility ranging the gamut from verbal to outright, sometimes lethal, physical hostility. Many of the third wave of Italians experienced marginalization fostered by powerful whites during the growth of Arizona’s copper industry. Initially, the contemporary historical record points to success accorded to Italians reached by hard work, diligence, and sacrifices.89 The Spaniards left a less detailed history compared with other groups, due to their later arrival in Arizona. Many simply returned to Spain when jobs ran out. However, given their ardent prolabor leanings, Spaniards may have found Arizona’s labor situation, at the end of World War I, too demoralizing to stay. Both EuroLatin groups were demonstrably relevant to Arizona’s overall history.

The Arrival of EuroLatins 53 3

Encountering the Sting of Racism Micro- and Macro-Level Violence

Fiorello La Guardia was a crusading congressman and mayor of New York who ignored many conventions of his time by crossing ethnic, religious, and class lines. His formative years spent in Arizona, from the late 1880s to 1906, shaped his personal philosophy on justice and equality because of direct encounters with prejudice and discrimination. La Guardia recounted his reactions to the sting of racism in his autobiography. “I . . . got my first glimpse of racial feeling born of ignorance, out there in Arizona. I must have been about ten when a street organ-grinder with a monkey blew into town. He, and particularly the monkey, attracted a great deal of attention. I can still hear the cries of the kids: ‘A dago with a monkey! Hey, Fiorello, you’re a dago too. Where’s your monkey?’ It hurt. I couldn’t understand it. What difference was there between us?”1 Was Fiorello an overly sensitive boy offended by harmless jibes, which are part of growing up? Or was his heightened reaction to prejudice toward Italians rooted in the cultural and social milieu that was Arizona in the 1890s? It would seem he was attuned to the prevailing climate, for as Colleen Stitt described Arizona, “Native-born white, Anglo-Saxon, Protestant Americans constructed a wall of prejudice and fear about ‘Other Ness’ well before the 20th century. The target of official intolerance was not fixed, but shifted depending on the political and social climate of the moment. Different groups passed out of and occasionally back into favor, although in some cases, racial and ethnic bigotry precluded a full return to grace.”2 And the appropriate inclusion of Others in the heritage of the state is often overlooked, erasing their achievements. Accounts of a major gold find in the Rich Hill district, for example, demonstrate how the same event can be described differently depending who is telling it, a phenomenon known as standpoint theory.3 A 2003 article attributes this fabulous 1863 strike to famous white figures in local mining history, like the scout and adventurer Pauline Weaver, Henry Wickenburg, and organizer Abraham Harlow Peeples. Another account, however, mentions diverse origins of other relevant members of the party, including a Mexican man, Lorenzo Para, and a westering escaped slave, Benjamin McLendon. Furthermore, the achievement of a party of Mexican prospectors in the area who simultaneously found gold nuggets on Rich Hill is often overlooked.4

Arizona’s Ethnoracial Diversity

Just what was the climate of Arizona found by nonwhites? Despite the presence of age-old tribal enclaves and historic Spanish-Mexican settlements of Tubac, Tucson, and San Xavier in the southern areas, many Ang- los saw Arizona as an almost blank slate ready to be inscribed with Anglo Saxon culture and peoples. Visions of a white buffer state to neutralize the Latin influence of nearby Spanish-speaking populations in New Mexico and Sonora, Mexico, sprang from this mentality. Before the Civil War, Arizona residents pushing for separation from New Mexico were represented in Washington, D.C., by Sylvester Mowry, a successful western mine owner who wanted an independent Arizona run by people like him. On the one hand, he raised concerns about eastern capitalists out to latch on to developing mines in the West. On the other hand, he wanted to overshadow the Mexican culture of southern Arizona, cen- tralized in Tucson. Mowry wanted a separate Arizona where pioneers could create “a thoroughly . . . American state . . . encouraging an American immigration” to diminish Mexican American political power. Plans were floated to conquer Sonora, Mexico, adjacent to Arizona, thus expanding the U.S. territory gained in the 1848 Treaty of Guadalupe-Hidalgo. Mowry’s Con- federate leanings raised suspicion, and he was expelled from Arizona in 1864 under accusations that he had aided Confederate troops in their ill- fated battle at Picacho Peak, Arizona’s only skirmish in the Civil War.5 Others, however, carried on his conviction that the territory should be divested of Latin influences. In 1902 U.S. senator Albert Beveridge spoke against bringing Arizona into statehood until more Anglo migrants moved in to dominate the territory’s Mexicans and Indians because neither group was, in his opinion, suffused with authentic American initiative and love of democracy.6 This mentality favoring white dominance infiltrated Anglo Arizonan pioneers’ outlook.

Encountering the Sting of Racism 55 The Climate for Arizona’s Ethno-Racial Groups

Arnoldo De Leon sees ambivalence in western attitudes toward minorities: being open minded was prized, but bigotry was tolerated.7 Pioneer whites, once settled, sought to establish a white value system throughout the territory that included racialized social categories for Others. Native Americans Originally, Arizona was inhabited by many Native American tribes with different cultures and histories. Some were predominantly agricultural: the Mojave of the Yuma area, the Pima of central Arizona, and the Hopi of the northeast. Others were hunters, gatherers, and raiders, with the Navajo and Apache well known for that lifestyle. Settlers learned to appreciate helpful tribes and to battle those who resented white encroach- ment. But essentially the existing land was not big enough to accommodate both Anglo and Native ways of life. By the 1880s many tribes were con- fined to reservations, after losing rights to traditional resources like water and hunting grounds, having their languages and culture minimized, and being barred from political involvement.8 Few lived in mining towns or worked in mines. Occasionally, there was recruitment for labor gangs, such as the Apaches who worked on road building. The climate Native Ameri- cans faced grew quite bleak, not to be improved for some time. Blacks African Americans began moving west early, some as free men and women, others as slaves with their owners or as runaways seeking freedom. The earliest large-scale movement of blacks into the West occurred after the Civil War, but it was a long-term process. By 1870 there were only twenty-six blacks in Arizona. According to De Leon’s figures, in 1890 Arizona Territory’s African American population was slightly over 2 percent of the total population. Although this is a modest proportion, it was higher than percentages found in most other western states, like New Mexico, Nevada, Oregon, Washington, Wyoming, Idaho, or California. Only Texas, a former slave-holding state, had a higher percentage, but not by much. De Leon suggests that westward movement for blacks was tainted by the post–Civil War relocation to many parts of the West, including Arizona, of former white Southerners bent on re-creating the environment of race relations they left behind.9 While slavery was seldom a formal institution in the West, Utah had slavery until 1862, and California allowed slave catchers to retrieve

56 Chapter 3 runaway slaves. Racial bias existed in a de jure institutional form, particularly through restrictive legislation and by efforts to curb the voting power of free blacks. Blacks faced this deterrence in relocating to growing territories. If poor whites were able to pick up and survive the dangerous overland journey west, free blacks could do the same except for “A haunting conviction that the West offered black settlers no better economic opportunity than other parts of the country” that played a key role in discourag- ing migration.10 In Arizona, newly emerging jobs for laborers developed in railroad construction, dam construction, and mining, but employers usually preferred Mexican, Chinese, or recent European immigrants over blacks. Blacks ended up in such racialized occupations as cooks, waiters, or por- ters. According to the 1900 Special Census of Occupations for Arizona, most black men worked in the domestic and personal services labor segment. The largest concentration of men in this broad category were soldiers, which offered an occupational niche for blacks. They also found opportunities on ranches, as cowhands, and opened their own small businesses, such as barber shops, restaurants, bars, and hotels.11 Booker T. Washington approved of what he found in Arizona, because in Phoenix, although essentially segregated, blacks worked in a variety of occupations. His philosophy was that blacks and whites were basically separate but equal, like fingers on a hand; thus he encouraged black self- sufficiency and upward mobility through education and professionalism. Moreover, he chose to overlook legislation passed by territorial lawmakers that mandated segregated schools for black children, which was later reinforced when Arizona became a state.12 The Arizona House of Representa- tives, prodded by relocated white southerners, voted for continued school segregation. It was left up to the trustees of individual school districts to decide whether segregation was needed if the number of “Negro children is greater than one.” The two black pupils at Phoenix High School were given a separate room and a separate teacher.13 Antimiscegenation laws in Arizona put a further damper on interracial intimacy. Blacks hoping to thrive in Arizona needed to learn the informal racial codes enforced in mining towns, like being unable to sit down at a faro game but allowed to play at the crap table.14 Mining towns generally had only a small percentage of black Americans, with few working in mines. They were more likely to be individual prospectors than mine employees. Given the hue and cry in Arizona about alleged safety issues in mines, which led legislators to pass much-contested legislation calling for Eng- lish fluency among miners, the absence of African Americans underscores

Encountering the Sting of Racism 57 that occupational segregation barred them from underground work. Still, despite racism, a few individuals, like Alvin Booth, succeeded economically in remote camps. Born in Texas shortly after the Civil War, he settled in Globe, garnering praise as a “credit to his race.” Booth’s reliability as a worker kept him employed, and he saved enough to become a substantial property owner in Globe.15 Generally, the Arizona climate was tepid for Blacks, emulating some tenets of the South’s legal segregation and enforcing normative segregation otherwise. When few in number and showing evidence of staying within racialized categories, blacks were tolerated. However, any change in the status quo was met with threats, if not overt violence. A mass meeting organized by African Americans to protest school segregation was greeted in the press with an admonition to desist or face a new, hostile environment. The writer opined, “The colored people in Arizona are nicely treated and we suggest that they conduct themselves in such a manner that this kindly feeling will continue.”16 The climate was essentially mild with possible storms forecast. Chinese The Chinese came to the United States in 1844 after China was opened to American traders. The civil unrest of the T’ai P’ing rebellion, aimed at ousting the Manchu rulers, provided an impetus to leave. Among the earliest emigrants were Chinese merchants who established trading colonies throughout the world, starting in Southeast Asia and the Pacific. These entrepreneurs, who appeared in California after the discovery of gold, initially gained acceptance, as did Chinese who worked at domestic jobs— cooking and washing. Native whites disliked competition from foreign miners in general, as evidenced by the California Foreign Miner’s Tax of 1850, meant to discourage all nonnative miners. However, dissatisfaction zeroed in on Chinese prospectors as their numbers soared, with twenty thousand coming in 1852 alone. The Chinese answered job opportunities in railroad work in the 1860s. Taking perilous jobs that went begging, the Chinese stood up to all kinds of hazards, including the icy challenge of tun- neling through the granite of the Sierra Nevadas.17 The building of railroads with Chinese laborers was a critical part of connecting the United States from coast to coast. Chinese workers were introduced into many western areas, and some remained once the tracks were built in places with viable opportunities for employment or where they could open small businesses. Large numbers of Chinese entered Arizona as railroad workers when in the 1870s they were recruited to build a southern transportation link from

58 Chapter 3 California to Arizona. The Southern Pacific Railroad provided jobs, which resulted in a Chinese settlement in Tucson in the 1880s.18 Not all Chinese laborers stayed in the territory, but many found work as cooks and waiters relatively easily. Cantonese Chinese, the early Arizona settlers, found opportunities and, perhaps, initially less prejudice, so they called for their countrymen to join them. National immigrant restriction laws against the Chinese began in 1882 and were extended until abolished in 1943. The restrictions encouraged using alternative routes through Mexico to Ari- zona. Thus, a sizable Chinese merchant community sprang up in Sonora, Mexico; this also served as a waystation for those moving to Arizona. The border was relatively easy to traverse, although a cadre of inspectors worked together to check illegal immigration through busy ports and other border crossings.19 Similar to other prospectors who didn’t find their pot of gold in California, the Chinese quickly went into Arizona’s mining areas. Many began to rework abandoned Spanish claims, using placer mining techniques learned in California. They also found economic opportunity as merchants, becoming fluent in Spanish and some Native American languages, such as Pima, to communicate with their customers. It was when they left the railroad tracks, laundries, restaurants, and grocery stores to work as copper miners that the Chinese felt the sting of discrimination. Miners in the Prescott area in 1863 tried to emulate Californians by excluding Asians and Mexicans from working in the district in 1863, but the legislation was quickly repealed.20 The western copper industry in Arizona, specifically in Jerome, offered Chinese workers good opportunities under the management of William Andrews Clark, according to Nancy Prichard. Furthermore, their presence in Yavapai County was generally tolerated, although not without negative incidents. Charlie Hong’s wealth came from his Bon Ton restaurant, and he seemingly rose above anti-Chinese prejudices. However, when a misunderstanding arose between Hong and newspaper editor Bill Adams, the editor went from praising Hong to persecuting him and the small Chinese community, claiming, for example, that the Bon Ton served tainted meat. Chinese left when economic opportunities faded.21 Eastern copper towns had racial microclimates that alternated between tepid and freezing. Fundamentally, the issue was Chinese workers’ willingness to undercut their competitors’ wages, since their strong sojourner mentality—evidenced by wearing a long braid, or queue, as the requisite hairstyle for returning home—meant a willingness to endure the worst possible labor circumstances. In the Clifton-Morenci area, the Chinese first

Encountering the Sting of Racism 59 worked as laborers on the railroad, building roads and gathering wood used for ore reduction. But when the mine owners wanted to hire them as miners, prejudice driven by fears of labor competition soon arose. Bisbee simply refused to let “Celestials” live in town; their presence was tolerated only during daylight hours. A 1901 territorial law against miscegenation also prohibited Chinese marriage to whites; some intermarried with Mexicans and Native Ameri- cans, but large Chinatowns with family units were not typical in Arizona. Instead, within the confines of mining towns, the Chinese carved outa small segment of the town for themselves as a place to band together in times of travail and to celebrate their cultural traditions.22 Some sojourners were very visible through their dress and cultural traditions. A queue was an invitation to some boys to tug on it.23 Also visible were their recreational and religious centers, in modest buildings known as joss houses, where men gathered to socialize and worship, because most were not Christians. Over- all, the climate for Chinese in Arizona was tepid at best, and for the most part they received a chilly reception. Mexicans Mexican Americans’ presence in the territory provided the closest indi- cator of the reception EuroLatins would receive because of their cultural similarities. Arizona’s first European culture came from the Mediterranean, as Spanish conquistadores moved north from Mexico into the large swath of land called Pimeria Alta. Missionaries frequently accompanied the soldiers, for the Spaniards had a dual purpose to conquer and to convert native people to the Catholic faith. As in any war zone, the early Spanish communities were small, frequently cut off from supplies, and at times besieged by native people wanting to retain their rights to the land. Still, Tucson became the major outpost in southern Arizona for Span- ish culture, politics, and economics. When Spain was overthrown in 1821, Tucson became a Mexican settlement. The main cultural markers remained—the Spanish language, the Spanish legal system, and the Cath- olic faith. However, the Church’s missions were abandoned when foreign priests were expelled and many Church holdings sold. Early Anglo settlers were mostly single men, who quickly integrated into the Mexican culture, especially through intermarriage. Until the railroad came, Mexican families with freighting firms, such as the Ochoa, Samaniego, and Aguirres, became economic elites of the region.24 Although early gold and silver mining towns in southern Arizona, like Tubac and Ajo, were settled by Spaniards, many were later deserted. In

60 Chapter 3 contrast, the majority of mining camps of the late 1800s were newly carved out of wilderness previously known only to Native Americans. Towns like Prescott, Jerome, and Globe bore the cultural stamp of Anglo adventurers. Mexicans were essential to the initial development of Bisbee and Clifton, however. They were recruited to help in the construction of the first smelters and buildings; they freighted goods and ore, harvested wood, hauled water, and built roads, all the while helping fend off hostile tribes. Although Bisbee is situated on the Mexican border, not all labor recruits moved directly into Arizona. Some early mine owners moved from New Mexico into Arizona, and their source of workers entered the United States in Texas, moving through New Mexico to arrive in Clifton. As political unrest in Mexico grew, and as new railroad lines penetrated into central Mexico, a major increase in Mexican immigrants contributed willing workers for Arizona’s mines.25 It was this large-scale movement that put fear in the hearts of whites who viewed Arizona as their turf with a foreign entity within its reach. Tucson was described as “a bit of old Mexico transplanted to the northern republic,” a statement that forgets that the city existed before the northern republic came to Arizona.26 Mexican and skilled white miners began to compete with each other. The label of hard rock miner was proudly worn by transplants from regions in the British Isles with long histories of mining. Copper mining in Wales dates back to Roman times, and the Cornish mined tin and copper for centuries. A clear example of early competition emerged in the Yuma gold mine, the King of Arizona or Kofa, which was one of the most productive gold mines in Arizona. The owners started using Mexicans workers as supervisors and miners. But in the 1890s, the four partners fell out over the production level of ore. Epes Randolf and Eugene Ives filed a suit against their partners, Morgan Smith and Hiram Blaisdell, claiming that the Mexican workers were slack- ing off. The fact that supervisor Frank Guerra had previously worked for Blaisdell at another mine fueled the others’ distrust. Randolf and Ives put into motion new hiring practices that turned Kofa from a Mexican camp into a white man’s camp. The Mexican foreman was replaced by a Cornish foreman who favored his own in hiring, so that Cornish workers, parlay- ing their reputation for skill and running a quiet family-oriented camp, kept Kofa theirs until it closed in 1910.27 Arizona was not the only locale where Mexicans lost status as their elite class was defeated by Anglo settlers. In nineteenth-century California, Mexicans were granted whiteness based on their European heritage, albeit mixed with Indian ancestry, their Christianity, and the political influence

Encountering the Sting of Racism 61 of high-status Californio elites. On the racial continuum, with whites at the positive pole and blacks, Asians, and Indians at the negative pole, Mex- icans occupied the middle ground, although only for a time. In Texas in the early 1900s, Mexicans were also in the middle ground between whites and nonwhites, claiming at least the constitutional shelter accorded whites. While concern was expressed over the “Latinizing” of the Texas labor force, poor whites were the ones losing standing as Mexicans moved up in this social setting. They, like other Latin groups, were only partly racialized as white.28 Tensions escalated over who would dominate a mine’s labor force as copper soared in value. When Mexicans offered needed skills and labor, white developers welcomed them, but the mat was quickly withdrawn in favor of white workers in most areas. Mexican Americans were feared not just for labor competition but for their voting power in the newly emerging territory, and efforts to truncate their power, except outside Tucson, occurred in many growing communities. In Clifton, as Linda Gordon notes, Mexican American political clout declined from 1894 to 1910 despite the overall growth in Mexican immigrants.29 Even in Tucson, exclusionary terminology made its way into public documents. For example, on Antonio Ariada’s 1904 death certificate, his color was listed as “Mexican” out of the following choices: White, Mexi- can, Black (Negro or mixed), Indian, Chinese, or Japanese.30 Obfuscating differences blurred the line between a recent peasant who had just arrived in Arizona with only a strong back and a Mexican American with the right to vote, English fluency, and cultural knowledge of two worlds.

The Climate for Italians

What climate did Italians encounter in Arizona as EuroLatins? Any hope that they would bring high culture, like opera, fancy couture, and haute cuisine, to the denizens of mining camps was unrealistic. Most were from rural areas, had a minimal education, and offered mainly a desire to work and strong arms; in Italy they were known as braccanti. In a supposedly fluid western social environment, at least for whites, the new European group was given a subordinate and potentially dangerous racialized status. A general opposition to Italians, inextricably bound with questions of Anglocentrism, moved west with settlers. Italians often fell into the ranks of in-between groups in an unsettled, rapidly changing environment. The influential Dillingham Commission was convened by the head of the U.S. House and Senate Commission on Immigration in 1907. From

62 Chapter 3 then until 1911, commission members spent hours researching the impact southeastern immigrants had on American society. An extensive report, forty-one volumes, summarized their findings and ultimately became the basis for restricting immigration from undesirable parts of Europe. In one volume the commission, charged with sorting out America’s complex racial groups, divided Caucasians into subcategories. Northern Europeans, Brits, Dutch, Germans, and Scandinavians were of Teutonic lineage. In contrast, Mexicans, Italians, Spaniards, Portuguese, and French descended from Italic stock. In short, they were a different type of Caucasians than the Anglo Saxons and their kin. Commenting on Clifton, Linda Gordon observed, “The Euro-Latins remind us that whiteness is by no means an obvious or universal concept.”31 Questions about Italian character played out in several ways. Gunther Peck’s work on the West shows the shifting categories of race for Italians, Mexicans, and Greeks. Situation influenced categorization in a given community, depending on factors like status as transients, occupation, presence of families, size of the group, and presence of other racial groups. Italians were classified as white in Texas but not in British Columbia, where they ranked slightly above Chinese immigrants.32 Yet, EuroLatins had some claim to white privilege as well: they avoided the full onus of being a minority. Research on cigar makers in Florida in this period indicates Italian immigrant identity grew from a parochial identification with a village to a regional identity, to being Italian, and then to being Latin among their Spanish and Cuban compatriots.33 Italians positively self-identified as being Latin, which contrasted with negative attitudes among whites. Like other rural immigrants, many lacked a sophisticated knowledge of the world outside their immediate bailiwick. Leaving forced people to grapple with issues of identity and comradeship. The farther Italians moved, the less relevant was campanilisimo (parochialism); if more friends and support came from a more inclusive identity, then flexible people adapted. In Tampa, Cubans, Spaniards, and Italians forged a Latin identity, while across the country, a similar identity formed in some Arizona areas.34 Another facet of the bias that dogged Italians as they moved west stemmed from anti-Catholicism, for many an almost forgotten part of U.S. history. The Ku Klux Klan in the West was opposed to Catholics and Jews. English-speaking groups began to ignore their own cultural and religious differences in favor of forging a unified opposition to Catholic foreigners.35 Extremists saw the West as the last major bastion of the white Anglo Saxon Protestant. The conquest of the West was just that to white Americans, a culture war in a land ripe for takeover.

Encountering the Sting of Racism 63 According to Frank Van Nuys, in the Progressive Era the Far West was seen as the last place native-born whites could call their own, since the wave of immigrants in the East meant whites could face eradication beneath the demographic deluge of fecund new Europeans of questionable whiteness. White American identity depended on maintaining cultural control and avoiding intermixing with inferior groups, which, in the language of the times, led to “mongrelization.” Josiah Strong, a Wyoming minister, was convinced that the still malleable western population was susceptible to the evils of greed and booze, as well as to the allure of divergent faiths like Mormonism or Roman Catholicism.36 In the 1890s, nativism, in remission for a time, really took off, and anti-Catholic and antiforeign complaints increased. Anti-Catholic nativism was fueled by deeply entrenched fears of Roman Catholic leadership aggressively trying to wipe out individualis- tic liberal Protestantism. The American Protective Association was one of the successful nativist groups spreading westward.37 As Anglo Protestants became politically ascendant, anti-Catholic sentiments merged with views of Mexican Catholics as inferior to whites. While Italians in Arizona did not form large national parishes, as in other parts of the West, they were counted among Catholic ranks.38 Thus, in the West, Italians had shaky racial legitimacy as whites. Overall, at both the micro and macro levels, covert and overt violence was used to reinforce their marginality. While facing less harm than racial minorities, Italians still paid a social and economic cost for being perceived as different from native whites. Although abuses of minorities in the South are imprinted in the American psyche, new research on violence in the West toward ethnoracial groups is currently expanding discussions of western bloodshed. Particularly relevant here is newer work by Stephen Leonard, Clare McKanna, David Peterson Del Mar, and Ken Gonzales-Day. Leonard, McKanna and Del Mar all include Italians in their analyses of targeted attacks on marginalized groups in western areas. Their research is quite relevant for Arizona, as evidence here shows. Micro-Level Violence Initially the type of violence David Peterson Del Mar discusses seems quite removed from the typical western violence of barroom brawls, gun- fights, flying arrows, and vigilantes. His research, though, represents the newest twist in understanding western violence. Del Mar demonstrates that violence has its origins in the cultural predispositions formed by seemingly irrelevant factors: a repeated stereotype, a crude word, or jokes at someone else’s expense. Micro violence is not always direct or physical, but it

64 Chapter 3 incorporates interpersonal elements. Rather than solely chronicling western violence based on collective action like lynchings, strikes, or riots, he suggests that such overt violence is embedded in a broader nexus of power relationships. He disagrees that such action can be written off as isolated instances, spurred by a particularly grievous deed, or disregarded as part of the rough and ready frontier culture of the West. Examining tactics used by the white power structure in the Northwest Territory from 1880 to 1920 to keep white solidarity undivided in the face of a growing presence of racial and ethnic minorities, he shows how images of “crazed Italians” subordi- nated these new arrivals. The stigmatization of Italians constituted a form of interpersonal violence, since relations of power were embedded in unflat- tering depictions of exotic foreigners, not bound by American norms.39 His research is relevant in Arizona, where a similar population expansion put Italians in a vulnerable position. Del Mar sees violence linked to increasing numbers of Italians in the Northwest but does not explicitly look at demographic changes. My examination of growth trends shows that the rate of Italian population growth exceeded general population growth in the period from 1900 to 1910, as mining industrialization took off; this trend provides deeper insight into why the impact of Italians would be noticed. Linking population spurts to increased animosity toward newcomers is a concern to Clare McKanna as well. In Colorado, he found that Las Animas County developed a culture of violence related in part to a rapidly growing population.40 Del Mar’s research is implicitly informed by sociological insights on power. Max Weber’s classic definition of power is that it is the “chance of a man or number of men to realize their own will in a social action even against the resistance of others.”41 Power may be related to economic acqui- sition or political parties, or it can be a goal in itself. Furthermore, Weber notes that domination is displayed in various degrees, ranging from verbal tactics to physical harm. Overt violence is costly, so those in power may prefer a subtle intimidation that can be exerted through micropolitical tactics. Michel Foucault gives added insight into the link between macro and micro forms of domination: “[Power] is produced from one moment to the next, at every point, or rather in every relation from one point to another. Power is everywhere . . . because it comes from everywhere.”42 These theoretical perspectives underscore the importance of examining covert acts of domination and the taken-for-granted, seemingly ordinary examples of power and distinction. The use of ethnic slurs and negative, stereotypical images in the arena of public discourse—speeches, legislation, and newspaper articles—all have an impact, as Del Mar shows.

Encountering the Sting of Racism 65 To demonstrate his micro focus, he looks at “ordinary” violence, often not considered significant by historians, such as barroom brawls, child and spousal abuse, and stereotypical images fostered by the media. Nor does he subscribe to the view that violence somehow exists outside a given culture. Rapid population change alone does not, of course, explain animosity, but it is a potent element in a culture of excesses plagued by social disorganization. Arizona was undergoing swift industrialization, with communities dominated by labor-intensive work, such as building dams and railroads, and mining. Using Del Mar’s findings as the basis for comparison between the Northwest Territory and Arizona allows parallels to emerge, with both areas showing micro-level violence toward Italians. Del Mar contends that newspapers, the mass media of the time, were used to create social distance, symbolically removing a group from contact with the core group, that is, newcomers from the Anglo Saxons who had recently risen to power. News- paper articles give insights into powerful groups because reporters often emphasized the dominant group’s popular stereotypes of those outside their power structure. For example, Del Mar analyzes an article depicting African Americans and Italians arguing with each other in a situation meant to convey humor—to the dominant group. He suggests that this type of humor was meant to demonstrate the inferiority and reprehensible behavior of such subordinate groups. This type of denigrating humor can be found in Arizona. Moreover, linking Italians to lower status minorities, like Mexicans and Blacks, implicitly includes Italians as a similarly marginal group. A 1906 article about a near fatal accident depicted both blacks and Italians, working together on the Roosevelt Dam construction projects, in an unfavorable light. Two unnamed men were sent to repair a temporary float at the mouth of the sluicing tunnel and their boat capsized; the current swept the men through the tunnel. The local press reported that “Through carelessness and possible excitement control was lost over the boat.” As the men emerged from the water after swimming for their lives, the “Negro . . . [said] sure am fine. . . . The descendant from sunny Italy was not so jubilant, however and kept muttering to himself ‘Me no lika too mucha the boat.’” The article essentially concluded that no harm was done and that an amusing time was had by all.43 It is implied that neither man showed the masculine, rational, and courageous behavior that one would expect of white men. Appropriate masculine categories created by white middle class professionals of the time emphasized the need for men to have heroic expertise to accomplish tasks needed to conquer Arizona’s rugged nature.44 In contrast, the black and

66 Chapter 3 Italian men were lampooned as foolish by taking unnecessary risks and being overly excitable and fearful. This type of humor directed from the dominant group toward a marginal group serves to safely create social distance. How can someone object to a joke that is supposedly only good- natured humor? If you complain, you are then labeled as thin skinned. Yet such media stories represent a legitimized and widely distributed public discourse about racialized qualities of particular groups. Such images then become accepted as reality and validate preexisting stereotypes. The second point to be made here is that neither the black nor the Ital- ian man is named. Here, social distance is evident. Del Mar noted that not recognizing people by name in newspaper articles implies that the only sig- nifier for a person was their race or nationality. To be nameless in print suggests that such information is irrelevant, making the unnamed individual not worth noticing. Nor did this type of omission occur only toward Ital- ians. Frequently Arizona newspaper articles ignored the names of foreigners and other minorities. Tom Vaughn cites newspaper articles that omitted the names of Mexican workers injured in mining accidents as a sign of the social distance between the Mexican and white communities.45 Simi- lar incidents were found for Italians. When a cave-in occurred in Bisbee in 1888, injured Irish miner Mike Greeley was named, but the Italian miner who died was not.46 A Phoenix article in 1882 merely stated, “A Mexican had a fight with an Italian. There is a warrant out for his arrest.” More than a decade later, recognition had not improved, as an 1896 article demonstrated. “Two Mexicans assaulted an Italian on the Tempe Road at the ‘four- mile house’[;] the attack was unprovoked and prisoners were sentenced to 30 days in jail.”47 A potent image of Italians that followed them west spotlighted their allegedly violent nature. A spate of stories in the Northwest associated Ital- ians with irrational, violent, and vengeful acts. These depictions of Italians as aggressive, vengeful, and lawless led some northwesteners to conclude that these foreigners would not make good citizens. One article claimed that Italians were an “alien race” responsible for “a very large percentage of violent crimes.” Clearly, such people would not fit in as Americans.48 In Arizona, images of Italy’s reputedly violent legacy surfaced in many ways. Although the public did not know much about the culture of the group, two key themes were relished by the press. One was an alleged tradition of vendettas, or revenge. A tragic incident in Morenci in 1901 involved Italians and dynamite. The newspaper reported, “Italian Quar- ter: Italian killed . . . probably revenge.”49 This theme fit with descrip- tions of bloody vendettas carried out in Italy. Impressions the good folks of

Encountering the Sting of Racism 67 Morenci would acquire from this account were of neighbors who were separate, strange, spiteful, and dangerous. Such representations fit neatly into larger themes constructed by nativists that had a kernel of truth quickly blown out of proportion. In discussing the Mediterranean cultural dynamics of vendetta brought to the United States from Montenegro, Greece, Corsica, Sardinia, and Italy, historian Clare McKanna is careful to spell out the code of honor such action represents: a belief in the obligation to uphold one’s family reputation—especially of its women folks—that could drive men, especially young males, to seek revenge for a real or imagined slight. Rather than gloss over all homicides involving Italians in Colorado as vendettas, McKanna precisely defines what constitutes a vendetta before he uses the term to describe two murders, making it clear that not all homicides involving Italians were revenge-based murders.50 The second, closely related theme Del Mar found in the press depicts Italians being prone to criminality. Again this notion was derived from general nativist prejudice. As is true today, Washington and Arizona journalists knew that a good way to sell papers was to mention organized crime. In 1892 the Arizona Republic came out in total support of the vigilante mob that killed eleven Italians in New Orleans, printing one headline about “The Lynched Mafia” and another stating, “Outraged Justice Throws Aside the Law.”51 Stories, no matter how bizarre, also circulated about a local Arizona mafia. The mafia is overwhelmingly associated with Sicily, and other types of Italian organized crime, such as the Camorra, are also rooted in the mezzogiorno. One impetus behind such brigandage is found in the history of southern Italy, geographically situated in a prime location on Mediterra- nean trade and raiding routes and long held in bondage by a succession of foreign powers, such as the Greeks. The organized criminal group known as the mafia began in the early 1800s, when Sicily came under the reign of the French Bourbons. As peasants lost commonly held lands, which had been protected under feudalism, acts of rebellion merged with brigandage; locals protected bandits who attacked the foreign powers, opening the way for organized crime.52 So, while the odds of an organized mafia network in an area predominantly stocked with Northern Italians were negligible, such stories were presented by an uncritical press as truth. When a Ligurian, from the North, returned home supposedly due to fear of the mafia, reporters had a field day. Headlines proclaimed “You Cannot Escape Death, Penalty Imposed on Paoli (sic) Perazza (sic) by the Dreaded Mafia.” Reporters claimed he had revealed secrets of the organization, bringing a death sentence on himself. It was suggested that he might commit suicide rather than wait for a “stiletto thrust into his back by an

68 Chapter 3 unknown pursuer, an implacable foe who but sought to do the bidding of a powerful organization . . . the Mafia.”53 In contrast, the man’s attorney took a more realistic view when he encouraged him to return to Phoenix to care for his property, suggesting his fear was based on imagination. This interpretation did not appear in the newspapers.54 Other vague reports of Black Hand activities received the same credulous treatment, making for mean- ingless stories to frighten the public. Arizona labor history also includes examples of micro-level violence toward Italians, which Del Mar does not explore for the Northwest. Labor history in industrializing western states is an area ripe for examination. Fiorello La Guardia remembered the treatment of Italian and Mexican railroad construction workers, who were just a number to bosses. Those who were injured and left stranded or who died without family notification upset his growing sense of fairness, which later translated into his strong prolabor political views.55 Not all workers were so dependent on a paycheck that they put up with such conditions. In the Clifton area, a coalition of miners led by Mexicans and Italians called a wildcat strike to protest an eight-hour day tied to a correspond- ing wage loss. Although the 1903 protest ultimately failed, it alerted owners to the heretofore unimagined coalition of Latins. Mining town presses throughout Arizona castigated the strikers. The Arizona Bulletin, for example, came out with a statement endorsing “the policy of employing only ‘Americans’ in the mining camps,” opining that the “presence of too many Mexicans, Italians and other foreigners was detrimental to the camps.56 The press was quick to play on prevailing negative stereotypes of Italians, who were subsequently threatened with blacklisting and singled out as being the most dangerous troublemakers, although the Mexican workers clearly dominated the labor force. Furthermore, the press tried to link some of the jailed Italian strike leaders to the mafia. A reporter in all seriousness wrote, “While in prison he [the unnamed Italian] collected five dollars weekly from the Mafia and had about ninety dollars at the time of this release. He and his companions celebrated their freedom in a state of intoxication which has been given a place in the annals of the town of Yuma.” No matter how unlikely it was that the mafia funded a group of wildcat strikers, the organized crime image fit the general perception of Italians as dangerous and, in this case, doubly malevolent as unpredictable labor activists and members of an organized crime syndicate.57 In the post–September 11 era, attacks on U.S. soil are associated with terrorism; a century ago, Americans feared anarchist bombs, which were used frequently by radicals in key urban areas. National attention was

Encountering the Sting of Racism 69 riveted by the aggressive opinions and actions of anarchists, and Italians gained another negative image in the press because of a tiny but highly visible group of anarchists among them. The activities of the labor unions, syndicalists, and more radical anarchists were global, with Spain, Italy, France, and Russia on the European front, and the United States, Mexico, and much of Latin America receiving and giving support to their cry for fundamental changes within capitalism.58 Italians in Globe, Arizona, for example, raised funds for the defense of Carlo Tresca, associated with the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW, or Wobblies). Tresca responded in gratitude in the San Francisco Ital- ian press with an exhortation to keep high “le nostre rosse bandiere” (Our red flag).59 Nationally, Italians were prominent among both unions and anarchist leaders, two groups who were not necessarily unified. Militants on the far left condemned the union leaders for working within the capitalist system, thus failing to gain equality. For anarchists, unions offered workers a sop, thus sidetracking them from revolution by gaining meager increases in wages and slightly better working conditions. Anarchist countercultural activities, supported by charismatic speakers like Pietro Gori, a vocal press, and theatrical societies, stretched from coast to coast.60 Arizonans were concerned by the presence of Mexican anarchists in some copper mining camps. These activists were tied to the Mex- ican Revolution, and they gained ideas and support from Italy and other European nations. Ricardo Flores Magon, who crossed into the United States from Mexico in 1904, brought his belief in political reform to the American labor movement. He was jailed numerous times, including one stint in Arizona. In 1900 he was already reading the works of radical Euro- pean anarchists, including Italian Enrico Malatesta, who gave him hope that Spanish and Italian anarchists would assist Mexican revolutionaries and unleash similar revolutions in Europe. Magon was sure “that our brothers on the other side of the sea will not let us perish.”61 “Anarchist ideological influence probably came to Clifton-Morenci not only with Mexicans but also with Italians and Spaniards,” Linda Gor- don notes.62 Furthermore, she states that the successful tactic used in Mex- ico to begin engaging laborers through their mutualistas was later transferred to this Mexican camp. These new ideas appealed to a working class that hungered for a better material life and dignified treatment. No doubt the Italians accepted into some of the Mexican social clubs were also aware of radical anarchist ideas. In the infamous labor deportation in Bisbee in 1917, an Italian made headlines as an alarming representative of the IWW. Nationally, the IWW

70 Chapter 3 had Italian leaders, such as Arturo Giovannitti and Carlo Tresca, who were associated with major strikes, so the imagery of Italians as outside agitators fit with existing prejudices. Described in the local press, the organizer represented the archetypical Italian feared by whites. “Next was a man who looked as though he might have been plucked from the pirate chorus of a state comedy. His black whiskers reeked of stratagems, treasons and spoils: Italy gave him to the world and Vienna nurtured him and Halsted Street, Chicago, educated him in every species of crime and sent him here to serve Haywood’s crew.”63 Who better to stir up laborers than a violent, revenge- ful Italian? Serious labor issues in coal and metal mining throughout the West con- firm that articles depicting Italians as dangerous labor radicals werenot unique to Arizona. Interestingly, Italians, like Mexican workers, were demonized as scabs, union men, and anarchists. Often when Italians were brought in to replace striking workers, they were unaware of the true nature of the situation, and once they realized it, they refused to fulfill their roles and left, as exemplified by the filmMatewan , based on the coal wars of West Virginia.64 Over time new European groups began to gain recognition as being prolabor; for example, in a Windber, Pennsylvania, strike, Central Slavs and Italians cooperated in much-publicized labor struggles in coal mine camps.65 In the 1890s Italians working in western mining, in Idaho and Colo- rado, gained a reputation as active union supporters. The issue of an eight- hour workday for miners was vigorously debated in the press throughout the United States. It was taken on as a key issue by union representatives of the American Federation of Labor’s United Mine Workers of America and the more radical Western Federation of Miners (WFM), who tried various means to reduce underground hours while retaining the same wage. The most acceptable rationale for the voting public was that ten-hour shifts, seven days a week, in a dangerous occupation engendered health hazards. Unions worked through legislation and strikes to budge corporate leaders from their self-interested resistance, but even when legislation passed, implementation proved to be an Achilles’ heel for unions. Newspapers carried news of clashes over the implementation of the eight-hour workday, a key concern because of companies’ all-too-common violations of the newly restricted hours. Finns, Slavs, and Italians were front and center in Utah in a crucial labor confrontation in Carbon County coal fields in 1903. Here Italians were depicted as emotional, uneducated foreigners too easily swayed by labor agitators; a similar stereotype appeared in the Colorado press when a season of strikes erupted there in 1903.

Encountering the Sting of Racism 71 Utah’s Governor Wells was perfectly willing to put the blame for problems on foreigners; he also showed distaste for negotiating with Italian union representative Charles De Molli. “He demonstrated a marked, but not atyp- ical, prejudice against the Italians and other foreign-born miners.”66 Miners in many communities were also touched by anarchists who encouraged solidarity with the plight of workers in Mexico, who were engaged in a civil war. Scores of European workers in Springfield, Illinois, supported anarchists in the 1890s, a fact used by local newspapers to dis- credit workers in a local strike. Italians in the area were radicalized by anarchist Giuseppe Ciancabilla, who was deported in 1901. Their commitment to Mexico and fellow miners there was illustrated in 1909 when speaker Arthur Caroti shouted, “Latin blood draws to Latin blood.” He brought the Italian miners to “a high pitch of demonstrative sympathy for their Mex- ican brothers slaving in the mines of the southern republic.”67 Elsewhere, the influential Luigi Galleani, based in New Jersey, exhorted his readers of Cronaca Sovversiva (the Subversive Chronicles) to avoid the draft for World War I and flee to Mexico for refuge. The most famous of these draft dodg- ers were Ferdinando Sacco and Bartolomeo Vanzetti, whose infamous trial and execution drew international attention.68 Macro-Level Violence Micro-level social distancing and bad press can be converted into more overt hostility, making it more acceptable to physically attack a group labeled as disreputable. In his letter to territorial governor Myron McCord, W. P. Harlow, of Nogales, Arizona, reported on a potentially violent episode over a Fourth of July incident in 1898, which involved a dispute over flags. The flags of Italy and France were flown above the American and Mexican flags, angering the crowd, who “were chock full of enthusiasm, and other things.” Speculating that a regiment of soldiers would have been needed to prevent people from pulling down the offend- ing flags, Harlow supervised their removal, ending a potentially serious confrontation between inebriated Anglos, the flags’ owners, and the foreign cultures they represented.69 Furthermore, territorial justice was skewed against some Italians even in an open-and-shut murder case. This incident reveals the type of disadvan- taged status social commentator W. E. B. Du Bois was concerned with when he chastised the United States for a high murder rate of outside groups, noting that “We have been killing Negroes, Italians, Hungarians, Indians . . . with such impunity that the habit of killing has grown upon us.”70 Arizona was not immune to Du Bois’ charges.

72 Chapter 3 In 1897, Dominico Banche (or Bauche) was murdered in cold blood by Arizonan Bush Crawford. Banche, from the Val Canavese area, was naturalized in Tombstone in 1890, where he worked as a miner and met saloonkeeper Pasquale Nigro. Nigro opened a saloon in Bisbee in 1894, followed by Banche, who appeared there in 1896, working as a miner. But perhaps Bisbee’s opportunities did not live up to their expectations. Dominick and his friend Pasquale moved on to Globe. There Banche finally, at age forty-two, left the mines for a partnership with Nigro in one of Globe’s twenty saloons. In mining camps, saloons were ubiquitous, but as camps became towns, some of the wilder side of life came under fire. The proper ladies of town like Cordelia Adams Crawford were irked by the night life of Globe, especially when it was too close to their homes. Crawford felt it was necessary to swear out a complaint against Nigro and Banche’s nearby saloon for being a public nuisance. Pasquale Nigro, born in Italy around 1845, was naturalized in 1871 in Los Angeles, California. Nigro had acquired a lot of cultural capital by the time he arrived in Globe. He knew enough about the legal system of his adopted country to get the case dismissed on a technicality.71 The rever- sal was not taken lightly. The Crawfords and their friend Coleman Sendrey found another reason to feud with the Italians. This time it was over access to a shared well. In 1897, Cordelia’s husband, B. F. Crawford, gunned down the unarmed Banche with a shotgun blast as Dominick approached the well. The killing violated several tenets from the western code of honor, starting with not shooting an unarmed opponent.72 Inhabitants thought Crawford’s basic motive in the case pecuniary, since the large amount of property he owned near the Banche-Nigro saloon could become devalued. Knowledge of this motive did not prevent local press from showing a great deal of sympathy for the Crawfords, who were lauded as Arizona pioneers—but not the murdered Italian. “The affair is deeply deplored. B. F. Crawford is an old resi- dent of Gila County and has an estimable family, for whom great sympathy is expressed” (emphasis mine). After some debate, the jury sentenced Crawford to two years in prison; however, as a model prisoner, he was out in less than a year.73 Would Banche have received the same treatment if he’d shot an unarmed Crawford? No, more likely Dominico Banche would have swung from the end of a rope. Another example of white violence against an Italian, with little punishment for the perpetrator, occurred at the Roosevelt Dam site. A white foreman, John Conchion, was angered by an Italian worker, who allegedly

Encountering the Sting of Racism 73 called him a name. Insulted, the foreman used a crowbar “on top of the Dago’s head,” repeatedly striking him. The Italian defended himself, and the ensuing fight was broken up by friends on both sides. “When the injuries of each man were counted up the Dago was by far the most used up. It was necessary for him to go to the hospital for repairs. Several stitches were taken on the top of his head.” This confrontation almost provoked a spon- taneous strike by some two hundred Italian workers at the Roosevelt site. The threatened walkout was prevented when the foreman paid a six-dollar fine. The press gave no word of what happened to the nameless Italian.74 In this case, the Italian was dehumanized by the press and faced physical violence from the white supervisor, apparently because he verbally challenged him. This interaction presaged further physical violence and economic loss for the construction company, but the supervisor was sanc- tioned by only a minor fine. The lack of a serious response to the foreman’s actions certainly legitimized similar action on the part of other whites. The incident demonstrates the vulnerability of Italians to corporal punishment by whites. These examples indicate the ways in which micro-level violence, stereotyping, and social distance can make in-between groups vulnerable to discriminatory behavior that is covertly legitimated by a white power structure determined to keep power. The most infamous means of control was lynching. In writing about Colorado’s legacy of lynching, Stephen Leonard takes historians to task for stepping around such barbarism in the West and, except for ethnic historians like Andrew Rolle, being content to leave the dark legacy of hanging to southern states. True, western films often depict the hangman’s noose swung by a vigilante mob over a tree, but serious research, particularly on those murders with racial motivations, is scant.75 Leonard demonstrates that from 1882 to 1903, Arizona, Montana, Colorado, Wyo- ming, and New Mexico formed what he calls a “lynching belt,” with such hangings higher on a per capita basis than in most southern states. This does not imply that western lynchings should be directly equated with those in the South. As Arturo Rosales notes in examining mob murders of Mexicans, the motives for killing were not based on the racial apartheid of the South.76 Furthermore, Italians had support from an outside political base. The Italian government intervened in some of the most egregious cases of violence toward Italians, even threatening military action in the New Orleans case, when eleven Sicilians were hanged.77 In the West, the Italian consulate in Denver, Colorado, was occupied by Giuseppe Cuneo, who oversaw Arizona and thirteen other states and territories. Cuneo successfully acted to redress some of the worst excesses

74 Chapter 3 Table 3.1. Nativist Violence toward Italian Immigrants in Western States Date Location Event Source 1853 Columbia, 1 lynched Gonzales-Day, Lynching in the California West, app. 2 1856 San Francisco, 1 lynched Gonzales-Day, Lynching in the California West, app. 2 1879 Eureka, Nevada 5 killed by mob Salvetti, Corda e sapone, table on p. 133 1879 Las Vegas, New 1 lynched Gregg, New Mexico in the 19th Mexico Century, 115 1881 Denver, riot, property Leonard, Lynching in Colorado, Colorado destroyed 135 1888 Colorado racially biased Radelet, “Capital Punishment execution in Colorado” 1891 Gunnison, 1 killed by mob Leonard, Lynching in Colorado Colorado 1893 Denver, Colorado 1 lynched Higham, Strangers in the Land 1895 Walsenburg, 6 killed Leonard, Lynching in Colorado Colorado 1899 Little Rome, 100 driven from Lazorchak, Historic Mining Colorado the county Country of the Gunnison Field Office 1901 Rock Spring, avoided Salvetti, Corda e sapone Wyoming 1903 Minturn, Colorado avoided Salvetti, Corda e sapone 1903 Majestic, Colorado avoided Salvetti, Corda e sapone 1908 Denver, Colorado racially biased Radelet, “Capital Punishment execution in Colorado” 1910 Bisbee, Arizona avoided Martinelli, this volume, chapter 6

toward Italians. He distinguished himself with his efforts on behalf of Ital- ians and was knighted by King Umberto for his investigation of the massacre of six Italians in Walsenburg, Colorado, in 1895, which resulted in the United States awarding $10,000 to the families of the victims. His second knighting, in 1898, was for the release of five Italians wrongfully convicted of murder in Colorado.78 In examining incidents of western violence, the power of rapid population shifts is brought up in Leonard’s work, which examines demographic

Encountering the Sting of Racism 75 changes that put Italian arrivals in Colorado at risk as their numbers increased in the 1880s, threatening white workers. Increased Italian numbers combined with what Denver’s Rocky Mountain News called a hatred of Italians in mining districts of the West led to Leonard defining the acts he documents as racial lynchings, rather than a more generic frontier lynching. Italians’ noticeable representation among the last groups to be lynched in Colorado pertained to “their immigrant status and their race.”79 This unfortunate record led Italian researcher Patrizia Salvetti to use Denver and Walsenburg, Colorado, as her exemplars of western lynchings to explain to an Italian audience this American type of punishment.80 In Arizona, Mexicans suffered the most ethnic lynchings. However, a mob action in Bisbee in 1910 adds a tenth case to the nine that Salvetti lists as mancati or evitato, meaning missed or avoided lynchings. After the killing of two Americans, an Italian suspect, later proved innocent, was brought into town and greeted by a crowd of several hundred people. The potential for violence hung in the air but fortunately did not erupt.81 However, the small Italian community was aware of two paesani lynched in Tampa, Florida, earlier that year.82 The evidence of a near lynching has historical significance, according to Michael Pfeifer. Such mob gatherings give us insights into the penchant for a specific locale to consider using extra- legal authority.83 Bisbee’s capacity for violence is explained by Clare McKanna’s research. He too explores the issues of race and homicide in the American West, giving attention to Italians who were initially brought into Colorado as strike breakers in the coal fields. In Las Animas, hand guns were considered de rigueur for men’s dress code, and alcohol, a ubiquitous drug that represses impulse control, basic to socializing. Added to this combination was a volatile mix of ethnic groups, which strained concepts of acceptable behavior and led to bloody confrontations. “Hispanics, Italians, Greeks, and east Europeans lived, worked . . . and drank together.”84 McKanna zeroed in on an aggressive way of life in Gila County, a mining and ranching district. Although not as ethnically diverse as Las Animas, Gila County developed a rather unstable transient society that included Irishmen, Italians, Hispanics, and blacks, although white antagonism toward Apaches was a major source of bloodletting. McKanna notes that the potent combination of ethnic groups in newly formed boomtowns, like Globe, in conjunction with labor tensions, alcohol, and hand guns fueled significant homicide rates. He suggests that other Arizona towns with parallel demographics, labor issues, and boomtown cultures would also be predisposed toward violence.85

76 Chapter 3 Certainly Bisbee, Clifton and Morenci, and Jerome come to mind as areas ripe for further investigation. These copper towns all fit the sociological definition of a boomtown: a community with a population of less than 10,000 established at least one hundred miles from an urban area.86 Ken Gonzales-Day is yet another scholar expanding evidence of racial violence to include the West. His book on racially motivated lynchings in California of African Americans, Native Americans, Chinese, and Lati- nos also has data on Italians who were hanged. One unnamed Italian didn’t have time to give his name before he swung for an alleged murder in the mining town of Columbia in 1853, and Charles Cora was executed and hanged on San Francisco’s Sacramento Street in 1856, by members of the “vigilance committee.” For Gonzales-Day, drawing on Foucault and others, “inequalities in power were often drawn along racial lines and the question of race, ethnicity, and nation were, more than has been previously acknowledged, obscured by the near-mythic image of frontier justice and western vigilantism.”87 Arizona, starting with the territorial period and continuing through statehood, provided fertile ground for a more systematic study of the context of reception found by Italians and other marginalized groups. Italy’s emigrants found a society that was far from neutral or welcoming, since prejudices that had formulated in the rest of the United States had seeped into Arizonans’ consciousness. Evidence shows that Ital- ians, although they could vote and did so, were not part of the white power structure, although some naturalized early on. A number of strategies were used to reinforce their marginal status, through both micropolitical acts, especially in the local press, and overt acts that caused direct harm. The media kept a negative image of Italians in the minds of whites, justifying social distance and unfair treatment as appropriate for a quasiwhite group that threatened, particularly when associated with Mexicans, white privilege. The people from “sunny Italy” found the Arizona climate tempo variable, with uncertain weather.

Encountering the Sting of Racism 77 4

What’s in a Name? Wop Alley or Canyon of Salé?

Geographies can be symbolic; physical spaces determine the [model] archetype and become forms that emit symbols. —Octavio Paz, “Postdata”

Mining towns hold a unique interest for the modern mind.1 Some boom- and-bust mining towns that housed thousands of people in their glory days are eroded by time and neglect into no more than a few lumps of adobe walls or mineshafts. Determined souls love to explore these sites, making pilgrimages to honor a raucous past, for example, to the remains of the once populous silver camp Richmond Basin in Gila County. Other towns resem- ble an abandoned stage set waiting for the players to return, while a third group has been transmogrified into thriving tourist attractions, like Dead- wood, South Dakota, a once notorious mining settlement in the Black Hills and the first western city outside of Nevada to allow gambling.2 In Arizona, Jerome and Tombstone are similar tourist attractions, while towns like Globe and Miami, in Gila County, seek their place on antiquers’ routes.

The Silver Boom

Penetrating the Pinal Mountains of Gila County in search of ore took drive and perhaps foolishness. These mountains had long been home to Apaches, a tribe not inclined to welcome white visitors. A few parties exploring for ores entered these mountains in the 1860s, bringing back tales of gold placers and silver. Determined to lay claim to such richly described deposits, groups of prospectors headed east from Yavapai County into the Pinals early in the 1870s. “Strength in Numbers” was their motto as some three hundred gold seekers arrived at a base in Florence, Arizona. Under the direction of Governor Safford, they divided into seven parties—three Mexican and four Anglo groups.3 Backed by military efforts to subdue the reigning Apaches, prospectors emboldened by the sights returned to open numerous silver mines. At Richmond Basin the Nugget Mine had a huge bonanza of ore, as did the Ramboz, Rescue, and Bluebird mines—the rush was on. By 1876 the nucleus of settlement was in place in Globe, in a valley between the Apache and Pinal mountains bisected with ample water from Pinal Creek.4 The end of the decade saw silver play out as copper’s ascendancy began. By 1881 compelling references to the value of copper reflected the first small-scale mining efforts. This timid effort expanded into full-scale operation in 1884, as the Old Dominion mine began producing and smelting large amounts of copper.5

The Copper Ascendancy

Overall, the city population was around seven hundred people. The first Italians appeared in Gila County during this period. The 1882 territorial census shows the presence of a few hearty souls from Italia, with two standing out as representing the future of Globe’s Italian community. Peter Carretto disappeared from the subsequent records and may have rejoined his paesani in Michigan’s copper mines, informing his extensive Piemon- tese network of Globe’s prospects. The other significant census listing was Bartolemo Beluzzi, with his wife, Merced, and their daughter, Angelita. Beluzzi had started his American odyssey, like many local Italians, in Cali- fornia. This family was among the earliest Italians to settle in Gila County; however, his Lombardese kin did not follow his path, which left those from Piemonte to shape the local community.6 The mines attracted a diverse population and, in the early years, evidenced a tentative peace among locals. The Mexican community, joined by some whites, regularly celebrated Cinco de Mayo and Mexican Indepen- dence Day. Chinese New Year and St Patrick’s Day were also celebrated. As is the case today, everyone was Irish for a day. During celebratory times, the norms of separation from racialized groups were suspended.7 Globe was still a hard-to-reach, isolated mining town in the 1890s, with notorious outlaw gangs—like the Black Jack and Broncho (sic) Bill gangs—who preyed on stages and trains. Like other new families arriving in the 1890s, Kate and Gabriel Bigando and their two small children

What’s in a Name? 79 Immigrants to Globe lived in this Tent City, ca. 1897. (Courtesy of Jeanette Caretto Bowling) took a risk traveling to Globe. The couple left Piemonte to establish themselves in Arizona, first trying Morenci, which did not work out. They then traveled by stagecoach from Bowie, Arizona, to Globe. In 1895 riding by coach was expedient but far from comfortable. Besides sore tailbones from the jarring ride, the Bigando family suffered a severe fright when brigands hit the stage they were riding. The bandits lightened men’s wallets, but no one was hurt.8 The Bigandos also faced the double adjustment of adapting to an alien American culture while learning to cope with the rigors of western life. The risks they faced included a justice system biased against minority and ethnic groups, since, according to Clare McKanna, the Gila County criminal justice system “operated under the dominant white society.”9 No doubt they were shocked by the cold-blooded killing in 1897 of their Piemon- tese countryman Dominico Banche, whose Anglo murderer drew only a light sentence.10 By 1898 Globe’s frontier era ended with the arrival of railroad services. Isolation also ended as swarms of newcomers from all over came to work in the mines, such as “Italians, Slavonians [sic], and Cornishmen along with Irishmen, Austrians, and plain Anglo-Saxons” and Mexicans.11 Other early Italian arrivals included the Dalmolin family from the Vene- zia region (George had worked in Michigan’s copper mines previously), Tomaso Quarelli, and Domenico Revello.

80 Chapter 4 Unionizing Globe

With improved transportation, the town grew to some two thousand inhabitants in 1900, becoming “Capital City of the County with the Cop- per Bottom.” As the population swelled, foreigners made up an increasingly large part of the population, drawing public attention and raising questions of acceptance. The local press blasted national immigration trends. “The increased immigration this year [1900] is of the most objectionable kind, from southern Italy, Poland, western Russia, Slavonia and adjacent territory in Southern Europe.”12 The Italian community now developed. Their increasing presence drew some attention locally; David Peterson Del Mar would recognize the car- icature of Italians in a 1906 article showing social distance between Ang- los and this EuroLatin group. An attempted shooting between two paesani was dramatically labeled “Italian Vendetta” in the newspaper. It was written to convey humor to the dominant white group, showing Italian men inept in masculine abilities, like handling a gun, inexcusable in a town where “no man felt completely dressed unless he strapped on a Colt .45 Peacemaker or slipped a small-caliber handgun into one of his pockets.”13 The article derided the assassin’s poor aim and his total failure to “avenge some fancied grievance. . . . When the critical moment arrived for the cancellation of the vendetta, about the only man perambulating the streets . . . who was really safe, was the intended victim.”14 According to Marie Giacoma Cubbito, the majority of Italians in Globe were miners.15 While mining was not a major industry in Piemonte, as early as 1848 almost four thousand men worked in that field. Some arrivals in Globe had worked in other mines in America as well, so not all were unskilled laborers. Martin and Caterina Sanadretto, for example, left Sparone, Piemonte, to settle in Globe before 1900, after he gained experience in Michigan’s coal and iron mines.16 Many Italians worked at the Iron Copper Company or other small mines, but most worked at the Old Dominion, the town’s biggest mine. Their jobs in the OD, as it was known, were usually clustered in the less- skilled areas: they were muckers, mill men, quarrymen, and laborers. Min- ing was difficult and dangerous, and many immigrants who planned to return to Italy with a fortune instead ended up in the Italian section of the Globe Cemetery. At times serious accidents injured several Italians working together, such as the 1906 explosion involving four men in the OD. We are all aware that life involves risk and chance. Human history is a chronicle of advances and disasters. However, it is now argued that today

What’s in a Name? 81 new types of risk have emerged, which can be calculated with enough pre- cision to allow some degree of informed choice about the physical hazards we face.17 Industrialized manufactured risk is really a twentieth-century phenomenon, and western mining towns existed on the cusp of this new era. Clearly, Arizona settlers understood that nature posed basic risks: poisonous reptiles, dangerous terrain, inhospitable temperatures, floods, disease, food shortages, and unsafe water. Furthermore, humans have mined for thousands of years despite the risks of going underground, including cave-ins, choking dust, fires, and poisonous gases. However, modern mining communities faced added risks of large-scale mining capable of producing health hazards on a new, massive scale. Mine owners needed, more than ever, to calculate the difference between profit and safety in the mine and in the nearby community. On the workers’ side were physicians concerned about the link between poverty and poor health. In England, the link between health and environmental hazards was first spelled out by John Snow, a pioneering epide- miologist, who studied cholera in London and in coal mining communities. He proved the link between unsafe water, poor working and living conditions, and disease.18 Alice Hamilton was another physician who investigated health problems related to mining. She described her visit to the OD in 1919: “We stepped into a ‘cage,’ which is a flimsy, shaky elevator, devoid of walls or anything else one can cling to, and dropped down into the darkness. . . . In . . . the Old Dominion, we dropped 800 feet, . . . I trudged along, stooping to avoid overhangs.” She had to crawl forward on hands and knees, then descend an eighty-foot ladder into a black pit. Worst of all was “crossing deep pits on rails which were so far apart I felt sure I could fall between them if I slipped.” She concluded that working with drilling machine jack- hammers produced health injuries because of the vibrations, and that the most immediate threat to the miners in the OD was the dust produced by the hammers.19 Indeed, black lung disease or miner’s consumption frequently claimed lives, although Hamilton found that local doctors ignored the problem. A great number of men from Piemonte also worked in Butte, Montana, which they told their paesani had a “killer mine,” due to the prev- alence of silicosis.20 Miners in Globe might have encountered worse conditions had a union not formed in 1896. In 1895 the OD was bought out by eastern interests, the Lewisohn brothers, based in New York. Disputes over opposition to widespread hiring of Mexican workers came to a head in 1895, when the new OD mine owners decided to cut overhead by lowering wages from a

82 Chapter 4 minimum of $3.00 per day (consider that the minimum for Mexican workers in Clifton was $1.75) to $2.25 and by hiring lower-paid Mexicans. The chief manager, S. A. Parnell, allowed a “Mexican pusher” from Morenci, Alexander McClain, to bring in workers, thus giving rise to whites’ fears of working for lower wages or losing their jobs. Globe’s Mexican miners prior to that time were accepted because they did “Mexican work,” gruel- ing racialized labor aboveground, deemed unsuitable for whites. Now, hostile miners struck, then called on the Western Federation of Miners for aid. The result was the formation of Globe Miners Union No. 60.21 Accounts differ on the means, but the result of pressure on the OD manager was a restoration of wages and the firing of alien Mexicans, since miners, while calling for a white man’s town, were against immigrants, not Mexican American citizens. Later that year, Edward Boyce joined the president of the Globe union, Walter Shanley, in a victory rally to formalize the union.22 It is meaningful that Italians were allowed into the thriving local union and decent underground jobs, since their admission into the Globe union was not a given. Once Globe was declared a white man’s town, the hiring of anyone other than native white and other northern Europeans was in doubt. A white camp, as Mellinger explained, was a community “that would allow few or no perceived members of nonwhite ethnic groups to either reside, or to obtain industrial employments within its bounds.”23 As an in- between group, Italians’ acceptance was determined by each racial micro- climate. In some locales, they were totally excluded; in others, they were at the bottom of the pay scale; and in places like Globe, they were accepted. The new union, an early center of labor activity in Arizona, had an anti-immigrant bent; however, one saving characteristic for Italians may have been their willingness to embrace union ideals. In 1901 mine manager Will Clark of Jerome suggested that fellow manager Charles Clark remove the “radicals and dagoes” active in Globe.24 In 1902 the union resisted new efforts to undermine Globe’s status as a white camp by thwarting mine owners’ plans to hire Apaches for mine work but not EuroLatins.25 Italians were already in the union by 1902, as shown by Pietro Magnino’s family receiving benefits from the union when he died that year.26 Globe’s union status grew as members and leaders propelled the local into a powerful force among western miners. In 1907 a critical issue was whether the WFM would continue to affiliate itself with the more revolutionary Industrial Workers of the World. Globe leaders, after some waf- fling, came out against the IWW and pushed for incorporating ethnics and minorities to grow WFM numbers and strength. The latter plan bore fruit

What’s in a Name? 83 in 1908 as hundreds joined the Globe Miners’ Union, infusing it with new blood from Cornish, Italians, and Southern Slavs. Membership soared to 1,100 members, putting Globe’s union numbers close to those of Butte’s powerhouse union.27 Mine owners challenged the new power base with a lockout in a brief 1909 strike that ended, remarkably, with a negotiated settlement, putting the union in good graces with the larger community. The continued coalition building by leadership also brought kudos from powerful political figures like George Hunt, a former Globeite and generally prounion leader.28 By 1909 the union was a recognized fixture in Globe, with a new, large union hall.29 However, not all union members concurred with leadership’s new openness because many still wanted unions to include only skilled workers. These elite workers opposed new trends toward industrial unionism, which meant solidarity across skill levels and ethnoracial boundaries. In the volatile time prior to U.S. entry into World War I, radicals, moderates, and conservatives battled for membership. The WFM split with the more radical Wobblies only to find dissent within their ranks from those who pushed the industrial unionism agenda. Activists favoring inclusion began a fervent recruitment drive among immigrants, with the catchy title “Labor Forward,” netting large numbers of Mexicans, Italians, and Slavs in the Globe-Miami area. When Spaniards from Ray, already predisposed to activism by their homeland experiences, were added to the ethnic mix, Mexican and southern Europeans forged a visible alliance at the Arizona State Federation of Labor’s 1917 convention.30 Many Italians disliked working underground, not only because of the physical danger but because they often had conflicts with the Cousin Jacks. The Cornish miners were in supervisory positions, but as the Ital- ians became more skilled, they began to resent assumed Cornish superiority. “Cousin Jacks were bosses and down on [the Italians’] backs all the time—Hurry, Hurry!” The working conditions, low wages, health hazards, and conflicts with the Cousin Jacks led many Italians to leave the mines for other jobs as soon as they could. Anna Faletti’s husband wanted to “work, work,” but not in the mines. She remembered many young Italian boys who died from consumption related to mining. As she said, “They thought that if they came to the United States, they could shovel in money; instead a shovel dug their graves.”31 Giacomo Bertino was one of these young men who died. He had arranged a marriage to Aurelia Perlino in 1900. She moved from Italy to Cananea, Mexico, for Jim’s work, where their first daughter, Ernesta, was

84 Chapter 4 born in 1902. They then moved to Globe; by 1904 Mary was born, and Aurelia was widowed only months later, due to a mining accident. Some small comfort came from his union benefits, but she took in laundry to stay afloat economically.32 Italians who left the mines did not necessarily leave loyalty to the union behind. Whether raising funds to support IWW leader Carlo Tresca or patronizing Bracco and Giacoma’s Fashion Building on North Broad (with a bar and café known as “union establishments”), many in the community acknowledged that their decent wages were due to a strong union.33 An ad for Louis Pallia and Antonia Pianfetti’s International Saloon in 1909 noted, “Their employees are members of the Industrial Workers of the World.”34 Italian miners remained loyal union members right up to the crippling strike of 1917. Arizona’s tolerance for unions diminished as major strikes throughout the state pitted unions against unions, workers against companies, loyal Americans against radicals and dangerous foreigners. World War I brought fears of foreign insurgents working to assist European enemies from bases within the United States. Wartime profits lined the pockets of corporate investors, while workers faced with rising prices and stagnant wages looked on with resentment. To add to the heated climate, the IWW began an organizing campaign to win Arizona miners away from other, less radical unions. In Gila County the mining district of Globe and Miami retained a lead in union membership. According to Mellinger, WFM was losing ground, being supplanted by a statewide union, the Arizona State Federation of Labor. The ASFL had membership among miners in Gila County, and the Miami-Globe union had ties with Clifton-Morenci.35 The United States was a nation at war, and the frayed nerves on all sides of mining in Globe reflected the national air of anxiety. Rising costs of many goods ate into workers’ ability to support themselves and their families. Companies wanted to clear from their payrolls miners who agitated for improvements and keep the workers’ salaries stable for fear of another dip in copper prices, which had just happened in 1914. Furthermore, company officials were made jittery by the numerous strikes hitting other copper towns, from Ajo to nearby Clifton-Morenci. A report issued by the companies in September 1917 notes that the Wobblies had infiltrated Globe, openly displaying disloyal actions, such as refusing to raise the U.S. flag. The official stance of community leaders was that strikers were slowing down production of a mineral vital to the war effort, thus giving aid to the enemy. Company officials backed by many community

What’s in a Name? 85 members refused to consider the workers’ demands.36 Globe teetered on the edge of a major confrontation on the Fourth of July, when beloved community celebrations were cancelled due to fears of violence. The Seventeenth Cavalry was called in, since the companies claimed that the local sheriff could not handle the situation. The arrival of the cavalry, shifted the balance of power toward the mine owners. Widening frac- tures opened among workers, with some willing to return to work as strikers were harassed and arrested. By October mine managers justified resuming operations, under the guise of patriotism. The strike, they claimed, began with Austrians and other outside agitators and unpatriotic local miners. Wobblies and strikers were accused of rough tactics and found guilty of rioting.37 Strikers were blacklisted as mine managers recruited workers from out of state and rehired only those men deemed loyal citizens.38 Among the “loyal Americans” deemed acceptable to work were some from the Italian community, who retained their jobs. As well, some of the workers coming from other states, such as Carlo Vezzetti from Texas, were paesani of the Piemontese. Minority communities in Globe were successfully encapsulated, with the small Chinese community, consisting mostly of men because the Chi- nese Exclusion Act barred family reunification, symbolically and physically separate from most other groups. The Chinese, who began arriving in the 1800s, were restricted by norms to a spot adjacent to the red light district. Both Chinatown and the red light district were squeezed in between Pinal Creek and a steep hill north of the footbridge crossing the creek.39 According to W. Haak’s research, laundries, restaurants, opium dens, a saloon, a dry goods store, an herbalist, and the Chinese Masonic Lodge served the small community. Since it was adjacent to the bordellos, Globe- ites considered the entire area part of tenderloin, and “good folks” avoided it.40 The small Asian population of Chinese and Japanese were excluded from the mining force early on. They supported themselves by working in service industries, for example as household servants or running laundries or restaurants. Globe’s cosmopolitan dining over the years included the Japanese cuisine of the Yokahama Restaurant, owned by G. Tanimura, and various Chinese “chop houses.”41

Globe’s Little Italy

The small size of many of the western mining camps did not always provide enough space for separate neighborhoods. Even large industrial-era cities, like Chicago and New York, seldom had sections with only one ethnic

86 Chapter 4 group in residence. Jane Addams’ classic urban demography of Chicago’s minorities, surrounding Hull House, showed the propinquity of new Euro- peans, blacks, and a few Asians on the south side of the city.42 In crowded mining camps across the West, a range of groups lived in the residual areas that hosted the poor and dispossessed. In Copperfield, Utah, the Japanese and Greeks had their own camps, while Dinkeyville was the predominantly Mexican section, where Filipinos, Italians, and a few Koreans also lived, according to Arilla Bullock Jackson. Early residents of Dinkeyville lived in shacks without running water and faced stormy weather that others lower on the mountain avoided. Still, Jackson remembers folks getting along as they developed close bonds and helped each other out.43 The strengths and weaknesses of Globe’s Little Italy offer an example of full-fledged Italian community in eastern Arizona—in a white camp. Many Italians living in this Little Italy called it Canun Salé (Canyon of Salé). Whites in Globe, however, used the derogatory name Wop Alley to identify Euclid Street, providing a clear distinction between the way Italians viewed their home territory and the racialized category others applied to it.44 Globe’s Italian enclave was in the League of Nations Canyon, west of the tracks in the most racially diverse local area. A basis for trust among Italians came from their sense of a shared history, since most came from the same part of Piemonte, with the majority from towns within a radius of ten miles from each other, like Salé, now called Castelnuovo Nigra, Rivarolo Canavese, Cintano, and Villa Castelnuovo. Much of the widespread Caretto clan came from a tiny hamlet north of Salé, called Caretto.45 In the larger community, your residence was a calling card describing who you were. When the immigrants named their community, it became theirs, embodying both space and place, no matter if the Sanborn mapmak- ers labeled the area’s housing as substandard rickety cabins and miners’ digs that clung to a steep hillside.46 Actually, little on Euclid Avenue and nearby streets of Hackney, Pinal, Willow, and North Broad was reminiscent of a village in northern Italy. Per- haps the steepness of the street as it climbs the hill bears a remote resem- blance to a similar hilly path in an alpine setting. Also on the west side was the area called Panamá by the Italian community, where some 15 percent of the families lived. Although not all were from Salé, they came from nearby towns—Drusacco, Rivarolo, and Castellamonte. Some say that the way the creek cut through the area was reminiscent of a canal, and others say that people who settled there had initially worked on building the Pan- ama Canal, as did other emigrants from Piemonte, like California vintner

What’s in a Name? 87 Secondo Guasti, who supplied grapes to Globe. Today one of the streets in Panamá is named after the Beruatti family, also from the Val Canavese. The Piemontese tended to be clannish but formed ties to Serbians, who were often from Istria, which bordered Italy with a resulting cultural overlap. Leaving Italy Several factors contributed to the exodus of rural people from Pie- monte. In the upper reaches of the region, in the Canavese Valley, near Turin, where many of Globe’s Italians came from, about three-fourths of the land is mountainous. With deforestation, the soil was frequently rocky and underproductive, making the return for farmers minimal. A particularly salient element in agriculture was that the land was subdivided into small plots. In 1881 Piemonte had the highest number in Italy of direct owner- cultivators, concentrated in the hilly areas. At the same time, there were many large estates owned by absentee landlords whose general attitude was that an estate and the workers were to be exploited. In Turin and Cuneo, the mezzadria, a system of sharecropping, drove tenant farmers into debt, but they were still better off than day laborers, who were receiving minimal pay. Added to this was a system of heavy tax- ation that also fueled the desire to leave. Essentially, these marginal economic conditions pushed many by into becoming part of the stream of global emigrants from Italy.47 As families poured out, they took different routes to follow paths sketched by early sojourners. Farmers from Biela, Piemonte, found work in the United States, Africa, China, and Latin America. Scattered throughout the United States they sent home photos of their 1904 Labor Day celebration in the coal mining area of Logan, West Virginia. Those from the town of Bosconero found work in the mines of Kentucky, Indiana, and Colorado but eventually formed their largest community in Los Angeles. Those from Salé followed a lead to the mining towns of Globe and Bisbee, while Pie- montese from Rivara went to Morenci. Following the patterns of fellow immigrants, many did not come to Globe directly but worked across the country gradually. They came looking for jobs, often taking several years to save money to invest in businesses. What they acquired usually came from hard labor, thrift, and an eye for advancement. Eugene Rabogliotti recalled how his father was unexpectedly deposited in Morenci, Arizona, and had to save for two years before he could complete his plans to join a brother in Globe.48

88 Chapter 4 An Ethnic Enclave Discussion of immigrant communities in Arizona and how social structure either facilitated or worked against cooperation between groups requires an understanding of the bonds binding ethnic neighborhoods. Max Weber developed an early but still useful definition of an ethnic group as a group with “a subjective belief in their common descent because of similarities of physical type, or customs, or both, or because of memories of colonization or migration.” Weber further noted that this subjective belief was important for the formation and continuation of communities, which are based on units other than kinship.49 The ethnic community in a multiethnic society, such as ours, becomes the basis for both group and individual identity. A person makes intimate ties within the ethnic group while interacting with the larger society as needed, for example, at work. Many people explain ethnic neighborhoods by the simple logic that groups prefer to be among their own and self-segregate. While there is some truth to this, such a belief masks the prejudice and discrimination that often undergirds enclaves when groups are not welcomed in certain areas. As Rick Clyne points out, ethnic neighborhoods were often really ghettos, as shown by the negative labels attached to them; for example, the blacks of Dawson lived in Coontown, while the Japanese in Delauga lived in Jap- town. The derogatory name pointed out that the group was not welcome elsewhere.50 Thus, an ethnic neighborhood or enclave reflects some degree of autonomy, where people have bonds that make living together desirable, but barriers limited where a group member might safely live. Ethnic communities are set apart from the larger community by physical and symbolic boundaries, and the latter take many forms of differentiation from the dominant culture.51 The Italian’s community was one with services from fellow Italians, not outsiders. Union wages meant Italians were able to leave mining, becoming one of the few newer groups to have stores and bars. As Stitt noted, “In fact only the Italian showed a predilection for any specific work other than mining, and that was the liquor trades, where they owned saloons and tended bar.”52 For Italians a saloon was a social center, like an Italian society or club that served men as recreational centers. Of course, many saloonkeepers operated saloons where anyone was welcome. The attraction of running a saloon was that it was uncomplicated and allowed the owner to hire and serve those from his own ethnic group. Barney Morello is a good example of this type of immigrant businessman. He first worked in Gallup, New Mexico, where he retained an interest in the family business while striking out for Arizona. He purchased a home in Morenci, but his main

What’s in a Name? 89 business interests were in Globe, where he became an entrepreneur. Anna, his sweetheart from home, joined him and their daughter, Antonetta, was born in Globe in 1900. By 1905 he owned the North Pole Grocery and popular Globe Saloon on North Broad.53 Generally, miners’ sons could stay out of the mines once their fathers left. The economic success of these immigrants also stemmed from community support for entrepreneurs who, in turn, supported the community. Formal Institutions The Lega Fratellanza Lodge was the best known of the Globe Italian clubs. Founded in December 1905 it was a mutual benefit society affiliated with the national organization Columbian Federation of Italian-American Societies, founded in 1893. Members received inexpensive sickness and death benefits. The lodge also linked them to towns with similar lodges in Arizona, like Jerome, and throughout the West in mining communities, such as in Utah, Washington, and Colorado. The community came to sustain a rich array of Italian organizations, such as the Italian Masonic Lodge, and a second Columbian Lodge formed, named the Italian Progres- sive Society, that eventually waned. The Lega Lodge, however, remained active for many years.54 The Catholic Church was not a major formal institution for the community, however. Some Piemontese in Globe had a special picnic in June in honor of San Giovanni (St. John), an important figure among both northern Italian and Mexican saints. However, it was not an event shared by the entire community. This points to a division within the Italian enclave, for while many were Catholic, some were strongly anticlerical. This division is also found among Mexicans. The Piemontese American-born children grew up hearing stories of priests’ wealth in Italy and the disregard some held for the peasants. Thus, religious celebrations were not focal events to heighten community bonds, although such festivals gave solidarity in many other Italian American communities. Protestant churches were established much earlier than Globe’s Catholic Church, and as was the case for Italians in the East, some Protestant denominations saw Mexicans as ripe for con- version. While their success rate was minimal, Globe did have a Mexican church listed on Bone Street whose pastor was Rev. E. Fernandez.55 The Catholic Church was initially only a stop on the lengthy cir- cuit priests rode from their base in Florence, Arizona. It was 1890 before a Catholic church building was purchased, from Baptists, with the permanent church built in 1918. The solid structure, built by Mexican stonecutters and named Holy Angels, stands today as a local landmark and an

90 Chapter 4 active parish. The Romanesque revival architecture reflects the stamp of the French and Belgian priests who served the growing Catholic population. One early priest was Father Barrette, a French Canadian, who also spoke fluent Spanish, Italian, and English. He was close to the Mexican community and often held mass in the home of Ignacio Ruiz, leader of the Mexican enclave in Ruiz Canyon, just south of Globe. Nor were the growing numbers of Slovenian and Italian immigrants ignored in Globe or Roosevelt Dam, which became part of his ministry.56 Language Besides a shared tie to the Val Canavese region, other signifiers of Ital- ians’ ethnic bonds were found in their distinctive language, values, food preferences, mutual aid, subtle connections like nicknames, and proximity. The Piemontese dialect was used extensively in the Italian community. It is a language distinct from both official Italian, based on the Tuscan dialect that Dante immortalized, and other regional dialects. For example, “black” would be naird in dialect versus nero in Italian. Intertwined with language were social values. The concept of honor encompasses more than the English conveys and extends to notions of respect and dignity toward individuals within one’s family. In the language, respect is rooted in the form of the familiar and honorific forms of address, the latter showing respect toward those of a higher status related to age or social standing. American-born children learned these values and the dialect from their parents, relatives, and neighbors. Such was the density of the community that sometimes the maintenance of this dialect proved a barrier to entry into the larger society. Anna Troglia, born in Salé, recalled her difficulty in learning English in school because so many classmates used the dialect, including her cousin Irene Caretto and the Chiono siblings, Lucy, Dom and Tony; eventually Anna dropped out and went to work to aid her mother, Madalena.57 Many immigrants saw the benefits of being bilingual, like young Louie Calandro, who placed an ad for himself and three friends in the Arizona Silver Belt, looking for an English teacher, either “male or female.”58 Adults who did not learn English easily, however, found themselves dependent on their children. Then again, one beneficial aspect of being fluent in the dialect meant many people in the area learned Spanish from nearby Mexican American families, so an immigrant might have trouble conversing in Eng- lish with an average Globeite, but not with a Mexican neighbor.

What’s in a Name? 91 Family Given the strong Italian ethos related to family ties, several formida- ble values emerged. The family is a fundamental social institution for all groups; however, for Italians it has an even deeper significance given the historical uncertainty of Italian life. Italy, with a desirable geographic position on the Mediterranean, was politically fragmented and often invaded. Peasants, as the most powerless group in the social structure, took the brunt of political struggles. They learned to rely not on outside authority for support or protection but on their families. Although throughout Italy there were a wide variety of family types, the overall importance of the family was still recognized. The Piemontese residents of Globe would have been surprised to learn that according to some contemporary authors, the “the Wild West atmosphere of Arizona . . . was not agreeable to Italian family life.”59 Theirs was a life focused on family life and kinship ties. A critical value in la famiglia is the role of honor, which is rooted in the behavior of the overall family, be it nuclear or extended. Individuals were expected to give family interest priority over self-interest.60 And immigrants turned to the family for physical, emotional, and social needs first without relying on outsiders. Gender Roles Gender roles grew out of family roles. Men were considered leaders of family affairs, especially in public. Both legally and socially, women were in a dependent relationship with men and their families, first their father and later their husband. However, to view the Italian male as an absolute des- pot and the female as totally subservient would miss many of the subtleties of gender relationships in the immigrant family. Yes, some men abused their roles and mistreated their wives and children, but any extreme behavior was wrong according to community mores. The man was head of the family, and with that role went many responsibilities.61 A real man was expected to protect his family and the order of the family through hard work, self-denial, seriousness, and determination. These traits were essential if a man was to advance his family in the hostile circumstances of rural Italy or the United States. Numerous men opened small businesses to serve their enclave and their family. Italian grocery stores supplied items such as polenta and dried cod, which were too exotic for the average grocery store. Dominic Zucco and his partners, John Ranier and John Bono, had a store that catered to Ital- ians. They were also willing to help paesani through hard times by extending credit or being generous in their transactions. Others in the grocery

92 Chapter 4 Bert and Ernesta Vidano’s grocery store on Broadway served the Italian community in Globe, ca. 1920. (Courtesy of Jeanette Caretto Bowling) business included Simon Abell, Barney Morello, Bert Vidano, and Gaetano Maaletta; Angelo Martimbianco delivered meat from his butcher shop to Euclid Avenue families. The community was big enough for Solomon and Wickersham to carry bulk goods too: macaroni, tomato paste, pigs’ feet, olives, and dried cod. Orders were delivered in town and to miners living in the mountains. Young Anton Bigando worked there starting at an early age, to aid his widowed mother.62 The Arizona Bakery was run by a series of Piemontese families starting with Dominick Revello. It became such a community landmark that when John Caretto ran it, he became know by the nickname A. B. (Ari- zona Bakery) to distinguish him from another John Caretto. Women’s roles complemented men’s roles. A woman was a unifying force, or the family’s heart, within the privacy of the home. Women often controlled the family finances and enjoyed the love and respect of children, as well as the often unstated love and respect of their husbands. Because of women’s lack of a public role in the family, outsiders often misinterpreted their behavior for submission. But many were used to having some

What’s in a Name? 93 independence, since women who were left behind in Italy often needed to run the household and farm. Women related to almost every crucial facet of their society, because power usually flowed through the family, and the advancement of the family was dependent equally on the talents and efforts of both husband and wife.63 A woman was expected to be clever in dealings with outsiders so that her family received the benefits of her sharp bargain- ing, thrift, and ability to stretch a dollar. Many women in regions with few trained medical practitioners routinely practiced “domestic medicine,” usually storing an extensive array of herbs for healing.64 The medical profession of the late 1800s through the 1930s was in its infancy, although many breakthroughs in modern medicine like ether and antiseptic procedures dramatically increased the survival rate of surgeries. As Rick Clyne found in his research on coal camps, “Typi- cally, the mining communities’ more mundane medical needs were met by herbal remedies, home cures, and other forms of folk medicine that the different ethnic groups had brought with them to southern Colorado.”65 Italian women in Globe relied on camomilla, or chamomile plant, for an array of health problems, as illustrated by a character in a novel set in Pie- monte. La Toinetta was a local “doctor” and midwife who carried few items in her medical bag but the dried flower. Chamomile in a tea was good for stomachaches, cramps, and anxiety, and the buds, soaked in water, provided a tonic for pimples. Whiskey was a preventative during flu epidemics, and a nightly spoonful of cod liver oil kept children healthy.66 Running a boarding house, as an extension of a woman’s role, was an occupation that served those within the boundaries of the Italian community. A boarding house was a haven for the homesick immigrant, “with its wine and smoke-filled atmosphere, so similar to the sounds and smells of the homeland [that it] provided reassurance and allayed anxieties in a strange, new land.”67 Here men could be sure of cooking they would enjoy and the companionship of people from their homeland. In Globe, married women took in boarders to supplement their husbands’ wages, as Frances Chiono did when John’s injury in the mines kept him from working for a while.68 Widowed women also took in boarders, since this was an occupation equated with keeping house and was therefore acceptable for women within the culture. Anna Vidano Ranier, widowed again when her second husband John died in 1915, sold out her share of the Zucco grocery and bought a rooming house to earn a livelihood and support her children, Lena and John.69 When Kate Bigando’s husband died from miner’s consumption in 1907, she took in twelve boarders at a time in her small house,

94 Chapter 4 where she and her four children lived. The work was so heavy that at one point she hired a cook and a young girl to wait on tables.70 Women also took in laundry, did sewing, and sometimes helped when their husbands established a small business. Additionally, several Italian women worked at the Arizona Steam Laundry, but most women did not work outside the home. Women’s socializing allowed them to build networks among the interrelated families and to establish a power base through exchanging goods, providing information about jobs, making matches for marriages and business ventures, gossiping, and mutual aid. Gossip was a casual daily interaction, and people would often spend their evenings gathering or sharing bits of news. However, gossip also followed and judged the activities and attitudes of individuals, serving as a means of informal social control. One girl could be labeled unfit for marriage because of an imagined physical defect; another girl might be labeled superba, or conceited, because of her fancy clothes: “After all, she is still Italian.”71 Gossip could often have serious consequences in terms of stigmatiz- ing a person within the community. One man who was not always truth- ful earned the nickname bugar, or liar in the local dialect. Nicknames were not always negative but were often intimate terms with bantering overtones. One man known for wearing baggy pants eventually became known as Pantalone. Thus, nicknames known only within the community became another type of minor boundary. Someone might have a nickname within the Italian community and a different one in the larger town. For example, a man known for his height was called Grand by the Piemontese and Big John by outsiders.72 At times nicknames were useful in distinguishing between several people with the same name, as occurred often among the interconnected families. At one time there were four men named Giovanni, or John, Caretto in Globe, so they went by their nicknames, like Volpe (fox) or A. B. Caretto. The social capital networks among women allowed them to exert social control on behalf of women who might otherwise be dependent on men. However, as Cecilia Menjivar explains, it is important not to ideal- ize these connections; some women used the networks for their own reasons, to further their family at others’ expense or to fuel friction as a form of retribution.73 Food and Drink Other aspects that unified the community were anchored in traditional food and drinking, which also identified Italians as different from their neighbors. Wine and beer making were activities that added to social

What’s in a Name? 95 cohesion and strengthened ethnic identity. However, it is important to understand the role of alcohol in traditional Italian culture. When Giuseppe Giacosta toured the United States in the early 1890s, he did not reach the West but had seen enough to opine that American men drank to get drunk, contrary to Italy, where drinking in moderation was part of meals and social occasions.74 Grapes for wine making came from Pomona or Cucamonga, Cal- ifornia, where Piemontese Secondo Guasti founded the Italian Vineyard Company.75 When the grapes arrived, the entire west side would be per- meated with the fumes of fermenting grapes, and the air would be thick with moscherini, or fruit flies. Families often shared wine presses as well as a method for making wine; they might also share the huge wooden barrels where wine was fermented. The first batch was for the better wine. This wine was put in bottles, carefully corked, and used only for company or a special occasion. Daily table wine was a lighter wine to which brown sugar was often added. While the Piemontese were not the only ones making wine in Globe, they often felt pride in claiming that theirs was just a little bit better, so that wine making became another dimension in their ethnic boundary. They were like the Piemontese stonecutters of Vermont in Mari Tomasi’s novel Like Lesser Gods, who saw themselves as good wine makers while others, like the French and Spanish of Granitetown, produced inferior vintages.76 Beer making was also a communal effort in many ways. It started with dig- ging a crotta, or cellar, into a hillside or part of a basement. The beer was made using gunnysacks of hops and three-pound cans of Blue Ribbon syrup extract bought from one of the Italian grocers. Once the brew was bottled, it was laid at the tilt in a sandy corner of the cool cellar. An important ritual among the many beer makers was sampling, so men went from one crotta to another, checking on batches of beer by carefully tasting a draw from a large porcelain cup kept on hand for that purpose.77 The term used for their local brew was Choc beer, coined by Piemon- tese coal miners from Krebs and other towns in the Oklahoma Indian Ter- ritory; the name was short for Choctaw. Usually the cultural sanctioning of intoxicating beverages in the Italian community was overlooked by the larger society. However, during Prohibition this tradition became a societal concern, and Italians disagreed with federal agents over the right of immigrants to make and occasionally sell their homemade brew, wine, and potent grappa, distilled from wine mash.78 The meals served by Italian families in Globe were modified by the American cuisine but remained basically traditional. Just as the immigrant

96 Chapter 4 tongue has difficulty shaping itself to make the sounds of a new language, the palate has difficulty adapting to the taste of new foods. Food preferences are a function of culture, so distinctive foods become associated with the boundaries that set off a community. At the taste or smell of certain foods, you can experience a link between a memory and childhood, since early memories of food relate to a child’s basic sensory experience. Ameri- cans had not yet come to incorporate the Chinese, Mexican, or Italian cui- sines as part of their diet. Immigrants often came from societies where they had experienced hunger. One thing America provided for many was more abundant food. Even if some of it was unfamiliar, having a more reliable source of food and more protein definitely made a difference in the lives of poorer people. The homes of Canun Salé and Panamá were modest wooden buildings, typically surrounded by flourishing gardens. Many families produced enough milk to sell the surplus, and some families eventually went into the dairy business. The gardens produced a variety of vegetables, such as lettuce, cel- ery, squash, and artichokes. Fig trees, peach trees, and other types of fruit trees provided shade and fruit. The produce that people raised helped families cut down on expenses, and the savings became an important financial asset. Thus immigrants were able to save part of their low wages, which aided in starting their own businesses. This self-sufficiency was sometimes resented by Americans, who complained that Italians did not spend their earnings locally.79 Part of the cultural system of many ethnic groups involves an array of foods that are considered either important in keeping healthy or not good to eat. Certain foods supposedly aid digestion, and others build you up, make you more sexually potent or fertile, or are good during preg- nancy and nursing or in recovering from an illness or injury.80 With recipes brought from Italy, reinforced by lean times in America, filling yet eco- nomical meals were put on the tables. Polenta made from a special blend of corn meal was a dinner staple or snack for children when filled with cheese and baked; any leftover polenta was heated on a griddle and served with cream the next morning. Various pasta dishes, including the Piemontese version of ravioli called agnollotti, were prepared for holidays, like Christ- mas. Homemade sausista, or sausage, provided another reason for families to join forces. After slaughtering a pig, some meat was made into sausage links for later use. Bagna cauda (literally hot bath) was a favorite dish in cold weather, with heated olive oil and garlic sauce for everyone to dunk vegetables in. Dried cod, merlus, was edible after being soaked in water to become a protein source in many dishes.

What’s in a Name? 97 A bocce game at the Wedge Saloon in North Globe. (Courtesy of Nina Morello Brigante)

Entertainment The Italians of Globe found many ways to relax together. Bocce games, card games, and the lively guessing game of morra filled many hours. In morra, two players throw out fingers simultaneously, with each player yell- ing out the expected number of fingers shown by their opponent. Dances were family events and very popular, especially since Italians were not always welcomed at dances of other groups.81 Especially festive were the big dances sponsored by the Lega Fratel- lanza Lodge on the Fourth of July and Columbus Day, where a girl would be crowned as their queen. A local Italian band was hired for dances, wed- dings, and funerals. The Miami Copper Band, formed by Matt Ragus with input from Bob Bairo, had forty members, including Italians, Mexicans, Slavs, British, Irish, and Finns, under the direction of Mr. Scotti, the band master.82 On weekends people gathered at Barney’s Yard, Barney Morel- lo’s saloon in Panamá, to hear men play familiar tunes. Improvised concerts after work by miners often filtered through open windows at suppertime. In later years, many Italians, like John Cacceletto, joined the local multiethnic harmonica band.

98 Chapter 4 The Italian Band gathered at Barney’s Yard, a saloon in Panamá, Globe, 1907. The girl is Nina Morello. (Courtesy of Nina Morello Brigante)

Families gathered for picnics at Wheatfield, between Globe and Miami, or other pleasant spots out of town. Large picnics brought people together to catch up on the latest news, socialize, and perhaps quiz the most recent immigrant or a couple just returned from a honeymoon about friends and relatives left behind in Piemonte. People remember the abundant food, card and bocce games, and most of all the music. An accordion or harmonica playing popular songs like “Chiribiribin,” “La Spinola,” or “La Violetta” would bring back home for a moment. In the novel by Antonia Pola set among the Piemontese in an Indiana mining town, the protagonist, Mari- etta, describes her feelings while singing Italian songs at a picnic. “As she sang, Marietta had the impression that she was running a joyful race over her mountains and valleys. She could hear the echo of the fields and the songs of the peasants at harvest time.”83 Another form of entertainment was the community storyteller. Rico Troglio would take his accordion and attract people by singing and playing while sitting in front of the Martinbianco grocery store on Euclid during long summer evenings. In an oral tradition found in many pre-industrial societies, Rico would tell stories that took a week to finish, to an audience

What’s in a Name? 99 that gathered every night. Like other storytellers both in Italy and in Amer- ica, his stories were cultural representations that often carried a moral component, sometimes not too subtly embedded in the story. Perhaps he told the Italian marchen, or fables, describing strange talking animals or supernatural beings. Or perhaps he spun a yarn about the adventures of immigrants in their odysseys to America. In any case, those who were enthralled by him witnessed a dying art, as modern technologies replaced these bards. How could he compete with movies, radio, and now television? Still an important part of human communication that storytellers represent is all but lost now, at least face to face.84

Italians as an In-Between Group

By 1910 the foundation of Globe’s Little Italy was solid and reinforced by newcomers, as Globe’s most rapidly growing foreign-born residents were from Mexico, Eastern Europe, and Italy. The heart of the district was on Euclid Street, where almost half of Globe’s Italians lived. As was often the case with ethnic enclaves, the community was mixed with Serbian and Mexican families living adjacent to them. Further down on Euclid were several Mexican families showing some residential proximity. An example of the questionable status of both groups was highlighted by a few local census workers, who in 1910 listed some Mexican and Ital- ian residents as “Other.” They were apparently unwilling to list them as white but were aware these groups did not fit in official racial categories like American Indian, Asian, or Negro. According to Stitt’s calculations, more than 5 percent of Latins in Globe were incorrectly classified as Other, reducing the percentage of whites from 92 percent to 87 percent, which was still higher than the territorial average of 84 percent. The reluctance to classify Italians as white continued for second-generation Piemontese; Ernesta “Ernie” Bertino remembered being upset when her teacher informed her classmates that Italians were not Caucasian.85 The 1920 census showed Euclid Street to be a mixture of Italian and Mexican families like the Caretto, Giacomina, Gallo, Chiono, Cacelettos, and Giacoletto families interspersed with the Morella, Guarrero, Trujillo, and Aramenta families and a few all-American names like Taylor, Casper, and White.86 Given the Italian proximity and the ambivalent views of Lat- ins held by some in this white town, a degree of camaraderie formed with Mexicans at that time. If ethnic groups had a “home place” in mining towns, they also lived adjacent to those of different cultures, and when there was commonality,

100 Chapter 4 they learned to communicate, respect, and perhaps cooperate with other ethnic groups, as well as with the Anglo majority. In the American West, people of many races and cultures interacted, starting in the frontier period. While native whites and northern Europeans were considered to be in the upper levels of the social system, questions about the relationships between people of color have been raised. Lister suggests, for example, that the Chinese and Mexicans of Tucson, despite Mexican feelings of superiority, shared cultural traits related to strong family organizations, dress, appreciation of festivals, and a simple lifestyle. De Leon, while acknowledging a general lack of contact among minority races in the frontier, suggests that the Chinese and Mexicans as immigrants shared broad similarities. Nei- ther the Chinese nor the later wave of Mexicans, beginning in the 1890s, had dealt extensively with different races or the Anglo Saxon culture, and both groups had left a hierarchical home society as members of subordinate classes.87 As a Mediterranean immigrant group from a poor, hierarchical agrarian society, Italian peasants also had these characteristics. As Euro- pean Latins, how did Italians relate to Mexicans? At one level they related as a recent immigrant group from a similar society. John Cacceletto, who grew up in Globe, remembered that Italians and Mexicans “went through the same hardships,” and it was this awareness that allowed close residential proximity to work. However, because of the Italian’s strong Little Italy, they did not form close ties to Mexicans. Globe’s Little Italy represents a strong, quasi-independent ethnic enclave. Many, though certainly not all, achieved the American dream. Their strengths derived from being tolerated in a white man’s town and allowed to join the miners union, from generally coming from the same region of Italy, and from using opportunities to start successful businesses outside of mining. Neither Clifton nor Bisbee had such self-sufficient enclaves, which played roles in the subsequent participation of Italians in the differing social histories of those communities.

What’s in a Name? 101 5

Bisbee The Whitest White Camp

Globe was not the only white camp in Arizona. Bisbee also claimed that label and worked to enforce its own parameters for inclusion and exclusion. The racial microsystem of this successful copper camp was not as warm as the one found in Globe. Several factors influenced the development of Globe’s Little Italy, while different issues shaped how Italians carved out a social place in Bisbee, which both welcomed and defended paesani. A defining event for Italians in Bisbee, which served to differentiate this town from Globe, occurred in 1910. It was already a tense time in this Arizona mining district as the Mexican Revolution raged across the nearby border and labor strife simmered in the background. In a diverse city like Bisbee, with distinct classes and ethnic groups, a working consensus, or unspoken social contract, emerges, with norms of politeness and cooperation in public places. These unspoken rules allow groups to keep up appearances and briefly mingle in what Goffman calls “open regions” of a city. City folk develop a common definition of the situation that lets normal interaction take place, while limiting their contact with strangers. However, such cooperation is not always easy. Sometimes violence ruptures the fragile boundaries. Even an implied threat of hostility is enough to threaten cooperation. Thus, urbanites operate in a narrow comfort zone at times, particularly if an outside event or local crisis strains the thin web of cooperation.1

A Near Lynching

On December 12, 1910, something ruptured the cooperation between “American boys and Italians,” initially perhaps only a furtive glance or muttered word, maybe “Dago.” A quarrel erupted between Italians and two white men, Parker Bowling and D. H. Faulk, according to a witness. When the street fight ended, Bisbee’s infamous Brewery Gulch was bloodied by a double homicide and severe injuries to a third man, Ernest Duber. The gulch was known as a “sinful place . . . where people can go to do the things they aren’t allowed to do anywhere else.”2 Bars and red light houses operated despite an ordinance in March meant to shut down bawdy houses completely. The fight might have gone on record as yet another drunken brawl, because in addition to saloons and whorehouses, Brewery Gulch was home to many local ethnoracial groups, including African Americans, Mexicans, Serbians, and Italians. What made this a front-page matter was that white Americans had been killed. Whites generally overlooked murder among ethnic groups. “Bisbeeites barely blinked when someone was killed on Chihuahua Hill [a barrio] or in the tenderloin [the gulch]. However, when respectable people were involved, every resource was brought to bear to apprehend the culprits.”3 Had the knife fight been between Italians, an in-between group in the local racial spectrum, or between Italians and other residents of the gulch, the case would not have been as shocking. But the deceased were “Amer- ican boys,” a code word for white, “horribly cut” in a fight as their paths crossed with Italians going up the gulch. Outraged citizens made “ugly threats about what would be done with the two Italians . . . should they be caught and brought into town.”4 According to Higham, Italians became the focus of the particular stereotype that depicts them as criminally prone and violent people. The result “took the guise of social discipline applied to alleged acts of homicide.” Or, to put it another way, the whites of Bisbee decided to fight fire with fire.5 The hunt concentrated on the routes to Mexico where the two key suspects had connections. Several witnesses and an alleged accomplice were arrested. When an Italian, who later proved not to be part of the case, was brought into town, “there was a crowd of several hundred per- sons there to get sight of the murderer and not knowing that he was not one, followed the officers with their man across the street to Justice High’s office were they remained on the street . . . hoping to catch a glimpse of the supposed murderer.”6 The potential for violence hung in the air but fortunately did not materi- alize. However, the small Italian community was aware of the many instances of mob violence and lynchings of Italians in Louisiana, Colorado, Pennsylva- nia, Kentucky, Connecticut, Wisconsin, California, and Illinois. Only a few months earlier, two immigrants had been lynched in Tampa, Florida.7

Bisbee 103 The treatment of arrested Italians varied according to their connections to the Italian colony. Frank Molinar, a local saloon owner indicted for allegedly hiding the bloody coat of one of the murderers, was able to raise bail with help from local Italian leaders.8 However, other, less-connected Italians brought in as witnesses received no support from their countryfolk and were mistreated in jail and by the judicial system. One man, Antonio Bondema, received suspicious injuries when he supposedly was hurt “by a fall from the top of the steel cells in the branch county jail.” He and two other Italians had not been able to raise bond money. The trio was taken to jail in Tombstone, where they languished for weeks—a violation of any notions of swift justice—until they finally successfully petitioned the Arizona Supreme Court to free them.9 The case was characterized as difficult to solve “owing to the clannish- ness of foreign nationalities.”10 The Italian suspects disappeared into Mex- ico, and rumors claimed that Pete Ravaglia, identified in the press as “the Genovese,” planned to fight for revolutionaries in the Mexican Revolution. Finally, on January 19, 1911, Baptista Marinoni was arrested after returning from Mexico to Arizona. A fairly new arrival in Bisbee, he was characterized by the press as an anarchist, a frightening image of Italians that did not help his case. At the trial, he relied on translators for his defense because of his limited English. Although no eyewitness saw Marinoni stab either victim, circumstantial evidence was enough to find him guilty of murder in 1913. Patrizia Salvetti maintains that it is important to chronicle such incidents, when a lynching is evitato, or avoided. An environment of violence is not limited to completed acts. Fear is enough to control people.11

The Queen of the Copper Camps

Throughout the high steppes of the eastern part of Arizona, the quest for red gold escalated and spilled over across the border into Mexico. Bisbee, about six miles from Mexico, perches a mile high in Arizona’s southeast Mule Mountains, which are made up of limestone and granite rocks, Chi- huahua Desert vegetation, and valuable minerals.12 Some thirty miles in length, the range thrusts up between the San Pedro Valley on the southwest and the Sulfur Springs Valley on the northeast. Some claim that the mountains are named for a rock formation resembling mule ears; others insist they were so named because of the penchant Apaches had for driving stolen mules into the mountains while eluding their pursuers. In retrospect, the latter is a fitting explanation, since the earliest successful mining claims were filed by men from Fort Bowie searching for Apache renegades

104 Chapter 5 who had fled the confines of the San Carlos Reservation for Mexico. The searchers, led by Lieutenant John Rucker, headed into the mountains with a scout, who was also a prospector. Jack Dunn belonged to the confederacy who hunted for promising mineralization, which was evident in a “blossom of mineral salts . . . usually in deep, bright primary shades.” Minerals could be identified by these blossoms—cobalt showed a lilac shade, manganese was black, and gold was reddish brown.13 Jack’s search for Apaches was enhanced by his trained eye looking for likely signs of minerals, such as a sudden change in a slope or vegetation, or perhaps a formation on an exposed canyon wall. Basically, anything that showed that a geological rattle had shaken up underlying terrain was of interest. Dunn spied an outcropping of lead carbonate, which he knew from his prospecting experience was linked to silver. Rucker and Dunn filed the first claims in 1877, and these might have waited until they had free time to explore the sites more fully. Dunn, however, decided to put his trust in fellow prospector George Warren. He enlisted Warren to ferret out more claims in a shared enterprise underwritten by Dunn. Alas, the Dunn Dis- trict was not to be. Warren forged ahead, filing numerous claims in his name, while leaving his benefactor out in the cold. By 1880 some one hundred mining claims studded the landscape of the Warren Mining District. Savvy prospectors soon spotted promising sites in Mule Gulch and Tomb- stone Canyon, where a shabby array of dwellings sprouted up, delineat- ing the future Main Street. George Warren faced a cosmic retribution for deserting his backer, however, when in the throes of an alcoholic binge, he wagered his claim on a footrace against a horse and rider—George lost.14 The promise of precious metals drew men into the Mule Mountains, but prospectors kept finding copper ore rather than silver. The potential for developing profitable copper mines began to excite interest. Claims needed capital to develop into money-making mines, and Edward Riley, a Pennsylvania lawyer, was the first to actually finance copper mining. He was brought into the loop by Lewis Zeckendorf, from a mercantile Jewish family based in Tucson. Riley bought the Copper Queen and Copper King mines, then went looking for serious backers. In San Francisco he found the Williams and Bisbee firm willing to underwrite the mining for a majority share in the two copper claims. The new mining camp was named for Judge DeWitt Bisbee. The other half of the firm was John Williams, a knowledgeable mining man from Swansea, Wales, able to provide technical support. He designed custom smelting works with innovations that proved important in the

Bisbee 105 Baptiste Caretto (seated, wearing apron) in his Brewery Gulch saloon. (Cour- tesy of the Bisbee Mining & Historical Museum) western mines of Utah and later Arizona. Williams was aided by his two sons, Lewis and Ben, who would stake their futures on the copper camp.15 In the early 1880s, Bisbee was a wide open camp known as a “real hell hole . . . . a mecca for renegade Mexicans and half breeds.”16 But local boosters attracted more attention from affluent capitalists, and in 1881 James S. Douglas saw the potential for profit in the Atlanta claim. On his recommendation, the Phelps Dodge (PD) firm bought in and eventually merged with the Copper Queen owners to become the Copper Queen Consolidated Mining Company. Life changed in 1885 as PD brought in elements of a company town to the camp eventually called the Queen of the Copper Camps.17 The Copper Queen’s first real competition came from a claim filed in 1886. This claim was named Irish Mag, after a “working girl” in one of the many Brewery Gulch saloons, an antithesis to the regal feminine image of queenly copper. The Irish Mag claim also needed deep pockets, which were supplied by a Michigan firm that formed the Calumet & Arizona Min- ing Company in 1900.18 Bisbee needed efficient transportation links to haul the rich ores. In 1888 a newly built railroad ran from Bisbee to Fairbanks, Arizona, replacing the mule trains that had ferried ore to be smelted. As Bisbee grew into a mining center, the PD people tried to connect to even more sites, an

106 Chapter 5 expansionist vision not shared by the Santa Fe Railway. Unfazed, the firm moved into rail construction, resulting in the incorporation of the Sun- shine Line, backed by the main stockholders of the PD so that the El Paso & Southwestern Railroad company (as it was finally named in 1900), served mining interests.19 In 1906 one of the few Arizona-based companies started mining production, forming the third leg of the copper-lined stool supporting Cochise County economy, the Shattuck Arizona Mining Company. Bisbee’s Unorthodox Power Brokers Lemuel Shattuck was the type of man who fueled the American legend of an honest, modest man carving success from hardscrabble western land. In 1883, Lem left his native Pennsylvania to join his stepbrothers in Ari- zona, where they ran cattle for their Erie Cattle Company, based in Sulphur Springs Valley. Restless, he tried his hand at mining, first in Bisbee, then in other mining camps. Returning to Bisbee, he worked as a low-skilled trammer, pushing heavy ore carts up to the hoist—a job requiring both strength and endurance. Shattuck was remembered by J. Burnett as someone who made a fortune without forsaking a friend or forgetting a favor, a code that benefited the Italian immigrants he met.20 In Bisbee, Shattuck struck up a friendship with a fellow trammer, Baptiste Caretto. Baptiste had arrived in Tombstone around 1888, moving on to work in Bisbee as a mine laborer, since unlike Mexicans, Italians were allowed to work underground. Baptiste became naturalized in 1896 and quickly made friends. He was one of the few non-Americans listed as an officer of Bisbee’s Independence Lodge No. 53 in 1898. Although still listed as a laborer in the 1900 census, by 1902 he was a fledgling businessman. He and his brothers opened a rough-and-tumble bar between the gulch and Chihuahua Hill that catered to patrons who were “predominately Italian and Mexican immigrants” and served blacks, a definite digression from the local norms of appropriate racial contact.21 Lem Shattuck also became a businessman, but on a much bigger scale, opening a lumber business and, with a friend, the St. Louis Beer Hall on Brewery Gulch. Here he employed Constantino “Joe” Martinelli, a Swiss Italian naturalized in Santa Cruz, California, in 1876. After roaming the West, Joe appeared in Bisbee in 1892, first finding work as a laborer and as a bartender. A strong bond of friendship was forged between Lem and Joe, who graduated to running Lem’s gambling concession and then his beer distributorship, when gaming was outlawed in 1907.22 Looking for other sources of income in 1908, Joe Martinelli became a partner in the Arizona Prospecting Company with several other men

Bisbee 107 prominent in Brewery Gulch, including Joseph Muheim. Martinelli’s enduring ties with Lem lasted until his death in 1927. Shattuck was shocked to learn that the hearty Joe had died while visiting relatives. Joe’s brother Enrico inherited a tidy sum in stocks purchased in Shattuck’s mine and bank. Out of contacts forged among outsiders who were not part of the elite Copper Queen Bunch, Lem Shattuck, with the aid of Baptiste and other entrepreneurs from Brewery Gulch, opened in 1902 the Miners and Merchants Bank, which became a chain of banks eventually covering the state.23 Developing a White Man’s Camp While Lem socialized with ordinary men and women of varied backgrounds and befriended immigrants as well as native-born folks, he was not typical of Bisbee movers and shakers. The camp matured as a white man’s camp. This designation was explicitly stated as “Bisbee became synony- mous with paternalism—a ‘White Man’s Mining Camp,’ a feudal state in the desert,” as skilled native-born and northern European hard rock miners took over the stratification mores of the area: to keep miners’ wages high and restrict the flow of less-skilled, cheaper workers underground.24 A major event setting the standard for control over minorities occurred in 1884, when an unnamed Mexican was lynched for allegedly shooting some white miners in a bar brawl. His corpse was left to hang for several days to provide a warning to others. When the Chinese competed with Irish women for laundry business, an effigy of a “Chinaman” was left hanging where the wash was done, perhaps to remind them of the Mexican’s fate.25 While African Americans could live in town, Chinese could not, because the miners feared Asians as cheap labor competition. The camp’s first justice of the peace, James F. Duncan, enacted the “sundown law,” pre- venting Asians from being in the city after dark, so the Chinese turned to truck farming nearby.26 This restriction made Bisbee the whitest camp in Arizona, since Asians were allowed to live in all other major mining camps, including Tombstone, Jerome, Globe, Clifton, and Morenci. As the area grew, the racial climate became evident. Workers in mines fit into “a traditional occupational caste system.”27 Mexicans were lowest, with native whites and northern Europeans at the top. The in-betweeners were the central and southern Europeans. This classification system was enforced by a series of rewards and punishments. The rigidity of the racial microsystem developed through the conflu- ence of three factors in Bisbee. First, other camps had already struggled with issues of multiethnic workers, giving Bisbee leaders a chance to discern the system they deemed the most successful. While Globe had declared itself

108 Chapter 5 a white camp, Mexican workers were not entirely routed from the mines, but were assigned to lower pay scales, while local Chinese carved out business niches in the community. Some local Apaches adapted to wage labor, but not in mining. The Clifton-Morenci District was a Mexican camp, with Mexican workers employed underground in large numbers. They partici- pated in numerous strikes, making them a disruptive element along with the EuroLatins. The exclusion of Chinese from the Clifton-Morenci mines was complete, but Chinese businesses did well. Thus, Bisbee went further by excluding the Chinese from living in town. Their presence was tolerated only when they brought their produce to sell. Mexicans were not allowed to work underground, where they could put to the test the profitable dual-wage system. Second, Bisbee was dominated by a few major mines whose managers found it reasonable to pay higher wages to skilled workers and provide them with numerous benefits to minimize the cost of a constantly rotating labor force of tramp miners. Not only did this strategy reduce turnover, it also reduced chances of discontent that unions could turn into demands for massive changes. Early discontent over wage cuts in 1884 and 1886 did not turn into walkouts because of the rapport Ben Williams had with miners. His openness about low copper prices and changes in mining strategies bore fruit in the miners’ acceptance of wage cuts at one point. In 1887 the owners of the Copper Queen, William Dodge and D. Willis James, granted Sundays off because they were practicing Christians who thought the workers needed time to devote to worship. Much of their workforce at this time consisted of skilled northern European men, whose loyalty to the company was further cemented when an eight-hour shift became the norm before being mandated by law. The health of the workers was also cared for by a hospital built in 1886, clean water, and public health lectures aimed at the miners and their families.28 The corporation behind the Irish Mag also favored a satisfied skilled workforce of northern Europeans rather than a more disruptive, although cheaper, foreign labor force. The investment firm behind the Calumet & Arizona Mining Company was formed by men of Scottish and Cornish heritage, with mining experience honed in Michigan’s copper mines. The Cousin Jacks took pride in their mining skills, developed through generations working underground, and in their feats of strength and endurance. They believed their achievements in drilling, timbering, blasting, and pumping out excess water were not matched by other ethnic groups, making them a “large, very clannish minority.”29 They also brought specific technologies that made them valuable, including a superior mapping system and better timbering methods to shore up unstable stopes.30

Bisbee 109 As Bisbee grew, so did the number of Cousin Jacks, in part linked to their skills and in part because of a fierce loyalty that meant favoring their own in hiring. Their sense of worth was occasionally lampooned, as in one ditty heard in the saloons of Brewery Gulch.

“Me Pard was a fellow called Tony— A likeable chap all-around, A good one for drillin, hand-blastin’— A fair one, at catchin’ hup ground. ‘E ‘ated those chaps they called Texans, ‘E ‘adn’t no use for a Finn, The Swedes, the Bohunks and Mexicans ‘E ‘ated them creatures like sin. ‘E said it was God made the Dagoes— The Devil, e’ said, made the Dutch, But oo’ ever hit was made the Cousin Jack ‘E reckinned, ‘e didn’t make much.”31

The third factor driving Bisbee’s Copper Queen Bunch and elite miners to hold the line against Mexican laborers was the immediate proximity of Bisbee to Mexico. True, Mexican laborers were spread throughout copper camps in Arizona, aided by increasingly modern transportation routes, kin networks, and the encouragement of labor recruiters. Reaching these other camps, however, required time, economic resources, effort, and planning. Bisbee was nearby, in desert terrain indistinguishable from that on the Sonoran side of the border; the line that separated Cochise County from Mexico after the Gadsden Purchase was invisible. Consequently, culture shock was less for Mexicans who migrated north.

The Copper Borderland

Ambivalent attitudes toward hiring immigrants reflected not only some degree of race prejudice but also the burgeoning Mexican workforce in the borderlands of Arizona and Mexico. As globalization of U.S. corporations progressed, the mineral reserves of northern Mexico beckoned. Copper deposits do not follow national boundaries, as corporations invested in Ari- zona learned. Part of Bisbee’s early history is inexorably linked to the copper deposits of northern Sonora, Mexico. The government markers between southern Arizona and northern Mexico were the only solid signs marking this liminal space. People, goods,

110 Chapter 5 and cultures moved among Anglo British, Spanish Mexican, Apache, Pima, and Yaqui worlds. How well one connected to the fluid culture depended on personal skills and needs. To be minimally bicultural was useful, since a certain openness made communication easier and business dealings a tad less tentative. Everyone was affected by the humbling wildness of frontier landscapes, but even visionaries could not be sure what the borderland would become. Some Americans greedily speculated about the possibility of extending the doctrine of Manifest Destiny south of the U.S. border. William Randolph Hearst was one investor who expected the U.S. government to intervene in Mexico when his cattle ranch in Chihuahua and other investments were threatened in 1912. President Wilson refused to step in, earning Hearst’s ire.32 Such megalomania was supported during the Porfirian era, 1876–1911, as foreign investors and immigrants from the United States and Europe were welcomed into a Mexico whose government was struggling to unify regional outposts more completely and to modernize the economy. Mexican leaders played the development game with their own goal in mind, which was to harness the expertise and capital of rich outsiders on Mexico’s behalf. One of the industries President Diaz helped subsidize was mining. He repealed laws that made it impossible for outsiders to gain mineral rights and purchase land. He also launched a campaign of forcible removal of the Yaqui tribe. These desert people had faced attempts to control them before, but Diaz was motivated by American capitalists who saw the Indians’ presence as an impediment to investing in otherwise lucrative real estate in southern Sonora. Between 1902 and 1906, some fifteen thousand Yaquis died or were deported from their homeland. Ironically, this strategy hurt other investors, who prized Yaqui skills as miners.33 During this period a series of steps taken by PD executives positioned the firm on both sides of the border. As Samuel Truett notes, a key to opening “the fugitive landscape” was industrial-era transportation, but the rugged borderland proved a tough challenge to engineers and construction companies. In the end, though, rails zigzagged across mountains, canyons, and deserts, connecting mines with smelters, supplies, and people.34 One change was to remove smelting from the confines of Bisbee to nearby Douglas, a newly incorporated town south of Bisbee on the Mexi- can border, with plenty of space and water. The plan was not just to service Bisbee’s exceptional outpouring of ore but also to create a vital tie to the Phelp Dodge’s Moctezuma Copper Company. PD purchased the Pilares mine in Nacozari, Sonora, from Guggenheim interests, whose enthusiasm for the site waned as troubles mounted. James Douglas of PD had

Bisbee 111 experience developing mining complexes. He turned the investment into a very profitable site, employing thousands of workers, after building a railroad and model town.35 The border area gained attention in 1900, when the Bisbee and Nacozari railroad connected Bisbee’s suburb Don Luis—named for Lewis Williams, a popular manager—to Naco. Bisbee’s skilled workers became justifiably nervous about competition from the enormous pool of laborers in Mexico. In the 1800s, Mexican miners were not a serious threat. They were predominantly agriculturalists without the requisite industrial time clock dominating their lifestyle. Mine managers complained that workers were all too prone to disappear for days at a time on a trip home, take off time for various esoteric saints’ days, or not turn up for work on Monday because of a wicked hangover.36 However, as workers became socialized into the skills and rhythms of modern mining, PD replaced U.S. engineers and managers with Sonorans, while still refusing to employ Mexicans underground in Bisbee and paying them a dollar less per day ($2.50 vs. $3.50) for smelter work than whites. Douglas found this a rational solution to keeping a stable labor force in both places, stifling discontent for the most needed workers and fostering loyalty. By 1907, the town of Nacozari, Mexico, hosted a population of five thousand, with Anglos, Mexicans, and Chinese in the mix.37 Naco, Arizona (mirror-image communities sat on each side of the border), lost out to Douglas, Arizona, as a PD railhead; however, the town was linked in 1901 to the copper mines of Cananea, Sonora, owned by Amer- ican William Cornell Greene.38 Greene’s was not a corporate empire, but it was amazingly successful, having been pulled together by this Arizonan whose “copper skyrocket” brought him power and fantastic wealth—before the ride descended into headaches, strikes, and deep financial losses.39 Epit- omizing the changeable borderland cultural environment, Colonel Greene celebrated the Fourth of July in Mexico, drawing Arizonans across the border to celebrate their own holiday in a foreign nation! He invited everyone to join the “great jollification” at Greene’s grand celebration of the Fourth of July in his copper camp. Promoters expected to draw some four thousand Americans for a grand patriotic parade and participation in events, including a “wondrously rich Chinese pageant,” rock drilling contests, horse races, bronco busting, baseball, and other attractions.40 Skilled Mexicans in Cananea, Sonora, found themselves operating under the same dual-wage system faced by their brothers in the United States. The Porfirian era had encouraged migration from Europe into Mex- ico, following a philosophy of demographically bleaching the native mix

112 Chapter 5 of Indians, Europeans, mestizos, and Creoles into a more European people. According to Jurgen Buchenau, Diaz’s close circle saw white Europeans bringing a more sophisticated form of civilization that could advance Mex- ico, rather than bringing a biological boost.41 In 1907, Mexican workers in Cananea began a major strike, protesting the higher wages of foreigners, with the discrepancy more onerous in light of declining real wages. An intransigent Greene, alarmed by a gunfight that left five Mexicans and two Americans dead, called in the Arizona Rangers to aid Mexican forces in crushing the strike. Mexican activists were jailed, and Americans suspected of union affiliation were deported.42 Poststrike attitudes toward foreigners in Mexico became increasingly ugly. Nearby, in Bisbee, attitudes toward Mexican workers were also problematic. Birthed as a remote mining camp, Bisbee grew into a city where global economic interests spanned political borders in order to mine copper. Bisbee was Arizona’s third largest city, growing from about 1,500 in 1890 to a much more ethnically diverse population of 6,000 in 1900.43 Large- scale copper production in Arizona began in the 1900s, with Bisbee a prime example of industry growth. In 1899, a record 18,500 tons were mined; in the next decade, prices remained high, while production soared to 69,700 tons in 1909. In 1910, the city’s cultural mix included Mexicans, Finns, Austrians, Swedes, Swiss, and Montenegrins. The multiethnic nature of the mining labor force showed evidence of complex intergroup relationships. As noted, technology revolutionized copper mining during this time because profitable processing of low-grade ore and open pit mining required fewer experienced tunnel miners.44 The stage was set for conflict because the deskilling of copper mining encouraged employers to supplement skilled hard rock miners with cheaper laborers, like Italians.45

Italians in Bisbee

The increasing number of Italians in Bisbee at the dawn of the new century raised concerns about where this group fit in the local color spectrum of this white man’s town, since they ranged from tolerated to excluded in other white camps. Italy’s immigrants faced adaptation to a racialized microsystem that was cool toward their arrival. The first immigrants in Bisbee were the result of an early infiltration of northern Italians into the area. A few Italians could be found mining in southern and western Arizona as early as the 1860s. They should have been the image of successful immigrants, but structural conditions brought this success into question.

Bisbee 113 In 1882, the census of Cochise County, where Bisbee is located, listed more than fifty Italians, mostly concentrated in Tombstone’s active mining community, although three were already registered in Bisbee. For the same year, the Great Register of Voters showed Italians settling in other western states. Men registered in California or Nevada, such as Peter Bute from Venice in Alameda, California, in 1874; Abondi Bulotti in 1880 in Los Angeles; Giuseppe Coratto in 1876 in Storey County, Nevada; and Anto- nio Sturla in 1876 Nye County, Nevada. Twenty Tombstone residents later appeared in Bisbee, joining other miners who left the Tombstone camp as the silver waned, making the thirty-eight-mile trip to Bisbee.46 As the town grew, the number of Italians gradually increased. A fair number of naturalized Italians worked in local mines, including Bartholomeo Aransino, Joseph Troglia, Giovanni and Michael Vietti, Giovanni Vercellino, Dominico Banche, Dominic Caretto, Michel Derio, Luigi Piere, Felino Magini, and Tomaso Negri.47 At this point, the small group with mining experience seemed on its way to acceptance. Initially, their wages as laborers in Bisbee were twice as high as those of Mexicans. In 1882 Italian laborers at the Copper Queen mine earned the same as other Europeans. Payroll records for the Copper Queen Mine, in 1883, indicated that both Tomaso Negri and Joe Cavallo worked as helpers earning $4.00 per day, the same wage N. Vickstrom, a northern European, got. However, Spanish-surnamed workers earned about half that, with Refugio Arias paid $2.50 per day and Inocente Acuna only $2.00 per day. Italians would continue to earn more than Mexicans, but their wages did not keep up with those of native whites and northern European immigrants.48 Not all were miners. Charles Bulotti, a Swiss Italian, left Tombstone to open the Palace Beer Hall, with “Fresh St. Louis Beer Always on Tap,” on upper Main Street.49 A few families settled in too, as evidenced by their children’s progress in school. The Weekly Orb dutifully recorded John Caretto making the honor roll in 1889. In 1898 the vowel-rich surnames and Amer- icanized first names of Katie Caretto, Frank Pistinetti, John and Jim Maffeo, Maggie and Mary Protonetti, and Kate Pecchenino were mentioned when the children were promoted.50 In 1900, the manuscript census listed fifty-nine people of Italian ancestry. It is significant that fourteen were women, with eleven family units and eight of the children born in Arizona. Very early Italian sojourners were typically single men, so evidence of nuclear families indicates the emergence of a small but stable community. The presence of women and children signaled a decision by Italians to put down roots, despite being concentrated in the least desirable areas of town and struggling economically. Bisbee was

114 Chapter 5 Immigrant children attended the Bisbee Elementary School in 1898. (Cour- tesy of the Bisbee Mining & Historical Museum) worth the sacrifices entailed in living there, which included sometimes vio- lating traditional norms and having women work outside the home. A few women, like Mary Maffeo, earned extra income at arduous tasks within the home. As was typical in other Arizona towns, some women took in borders, which meant unending cooking and cleaning for a sometimes hard- to-please clientele. By 1904, Mary’s extra income came through housing several boarders in the family household at 194 Brewery Gulch, while her husband, Enrico, worked at the Copper Queen. Women who worked outside the home often did so in family businesses, such as small grocery stores or restaurants. Some struggled to support a family as single mothers, like Mrs. Vercellino, working in businesses that were not family owned. Julia Bonaguro Del Santo left a life of factory work in Italy to find an easier time in America when she married Roberto, an immigrant who had returned to find a bride. However, when he contracted tuberculosis, she had to work doing housecleaning, laundry, and helping to raise and sell chickens and eggs, a life her daughter recalled as difficult.51 Although often unexamined, the lives of many immigrant women were as difficult in their own way as those of the men.52 Three groups of Italians settled in Bisbee. The Trentini were Italian- speaking Tyroleans who had been politically under Austrian rule. While it was Italian culturally and linguistically, the Dolomites Tyrol was not

Bisbee 115 returned to Italy until 1919. Mining was an important vocation for Tyrole- ans in the United States, where by the 1870s men coming from the valleys of Adige, Sole, and Non settled in coal mining towns like Hazelton, Penn- sylvania.53 Once the signpost on the path to prosperity was labeled “emigration,” Trentini left home for South America, Canada, and the American West. Here they began to forge a Tyrolean American identity with some elements of Italian and some of Germanic cultures. While they kept themselves apart from southern Italians, they found kinship, in some cases, with Germans. In the anthracite coal country, the Trentini became loyal union members, taking pride in having no scabs in their ranks. Large numbers went into Colorado’s gold mines in a move later decried as a tragedy, because of the many deaths from silicosis and accidents in the towns of Leadville, Silverton, and Central City. Others went into the coal mines of Trinidad and Walsenburg, Colorado. In Wyoming they found employment in the coal mines of Rocksprings and Superior. Here, too, the group took pride in being union members. They disregarded leaflets, written in Italian, that were distributed by the Colorado Coal and Iron Company in an attempt to forge loyalty toward the company. In Arizona, their major strongholds were Bisbee and Jerome. It remains to be verified which of the miners with Austrian passports in Bisbee were from the Tyrol region. Many had names considered “typically Italian” like Rossi, but not all did, making ethnic identification difficult. Still, hints can be gleaned from a combination of an Italian surname, for example Thomas Casauglia or Emanuel Rossitti, and an Austrian passport.54 Piemontese, the other major regional group in Bisbee, were also active in mining throughout the United States. A dense network of those from Val Canavese area stretched from Bisbee to Globe. When Canavese in Bis- bee gathered, a ritual of “bowling the wine” was held. Sharing wine from a communal punchbowl, a soup bowl if need be, was an important marker of solidarity, requiring knowledge of in-group mores. Only a churl would take a deep draught, spill wine, or, even worse, drink the whole bowl. Indeed, their term for a person who “stuck out like a sore thumb,” essentially an out- sider, was someone who was like a turd in the wine bowl. Sicilians, the third group, are not usually associated with extractive work in the United States; however, they appear in Bisbee. The loyalty to their region was evident when V. R. Balondo listed his “nationality” as Sicily in the 1882 Cochise County Census.55 Their presence was noted by inter- viewees, and some Piemontese learned the Sicilian dialect to better communicate with their southern cousins.56

116 Chapter 5 Borderland Italians from Mexico to Bisbee The pull of Mexico affected many Italians as well as Americans. Coch- ise County’s proximity to Mexico meant there was a flow of Italians across the border. Mexico courted Italian farmers starting in the 1880s, because Porfirio Diaz’s representatives hoped Italians would be role models who, having been exposed to modern capitalist agriculture, would stimulate change among indigenous farming communities in the states of Puebla, Morelos, Veracruz, and Michoacan. These recruiters targeted Italians because they surmised that the similar Latin cultural background would allow the newcomers to integrate quickly into Mexico. While some Italians did very well in establishing productive dairy cooperatives within their group, the antici- pated fusion with Mexicans did not happen, and many agricultural colonies failed, with some members migrating north to the United States.57 Italian men were also brought in to work alongside Mexicans and Chinese, building railroads and laboring on coffee and sugar plantations in Veracruz.58 In 1900, Italians were unevenly distributed in Mexico, with the majority in central Mexico. In the north, most Italians worked in mining.59 In the copper mines in Sonora, Mexico, many Italians found themselves in an in-between category. Here Americans and select Mexicans were at the summit, German and Italians in the middle, and most Mexi- cans and Yaqui Indians at the bottom of the salary pyramid.60 In Cananea, some Italians worked as laborers and some had skilled jobs. Domenico Maffeo, a boilermaker, was among the foreign workers expelled from the mine in 1902 after protesting unfair wages. A report later that year on the nationality of employees of mines in Cananea, Mexico, showed that 54 percent were Mexican and 32 percent American, with the remaining 14 percent distributed among eleven nationalities. Of the latter 14 percent, most were Chinese and British workers, with a few Germans, Irish, French, Swedes, and Italians.61 Some Italians chose to immigrate to Mexico from Italy. One of them, Giacomo (Jim) Giacoma, left northern Italy in 1907 at age nineteen to join his older brothers, Giovanni and Antonio, already working in Mexico. Giovanni was a mine foreman in Cananea, a position few Italians held in the United States. Mike Verretto’s extensive experience in Arizona mines in Yavapai County also landed him a job as a foreman in Mexico.62 However, both the Giacomas and Mike Verretto left Mexico as antiforeign violence escalated in the wake of the 1907 Cananea strike, which had been called to protest wages that favored foreigners over Mexicans. Mike’s traveling companion, a paesano, did not survive the dangerous trip back to Yavapai County.63 However, the Giacoma brothers moved to

Bisbee 117 Tombstone, where Jim got employment as a timberman, based on his work experience gained in Mexico. John Oddonetto, of Salé Castelnuovo in Pie- monte, stayed in Mexico until 1911, then moved to Bisbee to connect with family members.64 Little Italy or Copper Mining Ghetto? As Bisbee grew, the city’s ethnic districts became more pronounced, similar to those in other urbanized areas in the United States. Many western frontier cities had ethnic and religious diversity that was similar to the rest of the nation.65 The neighborhoods reflected the local “geography of power,” according to Carlos Schwantes, physically representing the local political, class, racial, and ethnic stratification systems.66 Residence on the four principal hills or canyons indicated local status, furthering divisions that helped the corporate mining magnates keep control over workers. Northern Europeans and native whites lived in more desirable areas. Many Cornish miners lived in Tombstone Canyon and on Cousin Jack Alley. Quality Hill housed the corporate management; Laundry Hill was home to Irish settlers; School Hill residents were primarily middle class whites; while Youngblood Hill was more ethnically diverse, including a few Afri- can Americans. Most blacks, however, lived in Brewery Gulch with a mixture of Mexicans, Italians, Slavs, and poor whites.67 Insights into the long-term status of Italians in Bisbee can be gleaned from an analysis of the town’s city directories. Although less detailed than the U.S. census, the annual directories allow a longitudinal examination of community residential patterns within a decade. Both sources tend to leave out more transient populations, however. Initially, in the 1900s, 75 percent of the emergent Little Italy was in Brewery Gulch. Most lived on Opera Drive, Brewery Gulch Street, and OK Street.68 A few Italians lived in even poorer areas, such as substandard miners’ cabins and shanties on Naco Road and the Mexican barrios of Chihuahua Hill and Zacatecas Canyon, both adjacent to the gulch. James Aira’s family lived in Zacatecas Canyon, prior to his birth in 1921, and maintained a dairy farm there. Many others on the steep hillsides of Zacatecas Canyon were Mexican woodcutters bringing goods into town to be sold. Carl Vidano, born in Bisbee in 1909, lived on Chihuahua Hill, as did his grandfather Baptiste Caretto, the patriarch of the Caretto clan.69 Since they were not completely segregated, a scattering of Italians lived on the mostly white middle class School Hill. The early concentration in Brewery Gulch did not change much in two decades; significantly, their concentration in the gulch had only declined to 50 percent by 1924.

118 Chapter 5 This suggests an intermediate place in the racialized landscape of the city that reflected the overall status of Italians as being part of the Latin race rather than white.70 Life in the gulch meant more than having a less prestigious address on Opera Drive. It was not a healthy place to live. In the early 1900s, when Italians began to move in, conditions were unsanitary, with raw sew- age emitting a foul stench. Tainted drinking water, frequent epidemics of smallpox and typhoid, and chronic flooding plagued the entire city at first. However, these health risks were especially problematic for those living in poorer, high-density areas with a hazardous ecology, where risks of expo- sure were higher. The brewery of Brewery Gulch had been torn down, but approximately 33 percent of the town’s saloons remained, along with several licensed houses of prostitution, adding another layer of harm.71 Social ills continued to plague this disorderly area. As Bisbee grew from a male-dominated camp into a family-oriented city, increasing numbers of families, mine owners, and civic reformers pressed for a tamer nightlife than itinerant miners favored. By 1905, the thriving saloon, gambling, and red light district was con- fined to upper Brewery Gulch—known locally as Above the Line—where shanties ran up Zacatecas Hill to the barrio. The Airas’ store marked the symbolic line between above and below for Bisbeeites. According to Jim Vercellino, who was born Above the Line in 1910, the poorest of the poor, including Italians, were concentrated in this “copper mining ghetto.”72 By 1910, most of Bisbee had reinvented itself with a handsome down- town replacing the last of the older shabby structures, and prostitution was officially illegal. But reformers never completely eliminated the sporting life, so well beyond 1910 in the Upper Gulch, “chippies” still strolled the street, waiting for clients and passing the drunks stretched out on the pave- ment from too much bootleg liquor.73 While some Bisbeeites now sought their “guilty pleasures” in the accepting climates of nearby Douglas or Naco, others preferred staying close to home. Although it meant leaving the Italian community behind, Vercellino fled Bisbee as soon as he could, never losing his sense of outrage about the discrimination he faced as a youth. The gulch was akin to Globe’s tenderloin neighborhood “north of the footbridge,” where the Chinese community shared a hillside with prostitutes of all races. Had Asians been allowed in Bisbee, no doubt they too would have lived in the Upper Gulch. The Brewery Gulch Italians were unable to form an influential ethnic enclave in Bisbee. One reason was that immigrants from different regions of Italy settled there, whereas Globe had a unified Piemontese community.

Bisbee 119 However, that alone is not enough to explain the low profile Italians had in Bisbee, since other copper towns, like Clifton and Jerome, had diverse settlements but also had thriving communities. The Cost of Being an Italian Latin According to Rios-Bustamante, several factors played into construction of the racialized landscapes of Arizona’s mining towns, including the physical setting, placement of mines and smelters, transportation routes, and copper companies’ policies supporting racial and class divisions. He found that Mexicans were routinely separated from whites, but in the early 1900s, they could be found in some mixed housing with EuroLatins. Huginnie supports this point, noting there were “frequent connections among Spaniards and Italians and Mexicans whenever there were large numbers of Mexicans.”74 In many western communities, Italians lived near fellow Latins. San Francisco’s Latin Quarter, with its mixture of Italians, Mexicans, Portuguese, Spanish, and French crowded together in a low-rent area, is an example of this type of settlement. In Bisbee, Italians and Mexi- cans were adjacent to one another and shared some social contacts. The residential concentration of Italians in Bisbee’s tenderloin district allowed the group some anonymity, since many respectable Bisbeeites avoided the area. Members of the little Italian colony were cautious about playing a public role, especially compared with similar clusters of paesani in the league of copper cities in Arizona. A telling example is that the usual Italian fraternal organizations—which could be activist, like the Lega Fra- tellanza found in Globe, Jerome, Clifton, and Morenci—inexplicably do not appear in Bisbee, although other groups, like the Finns and Serbians, had such fraternal organizations. The main point of pride for the Italian community was their band. In 1914, a fete in the Gulch’s opera house was held to honor Professor Rodolfo Chelli. The press credited him for being “the leader and director of music of the Italian colony of Bisbee.” He was awarded a gold medal, while community leaders, including Baptiste and John Caretto and Victor Pistonetti, delivered speeches; no rabble-rousing labor leaders here. The need for a separate band may have reflected ethnic solidarity, but it also stemmed from the fact that foreigners were not welcomed into company-sponsored bands, whose members received extra considerations from the companies.75 The Latin component of the Italians’ status comes into sharper focus when they are compared with the Slavs, another southern European group closely related in the stratification system. Bisbee Slavs were Serbians from Pashtrovich, near Montenegro. Clan members had been Mediterranean

120 Chapter 5 sailors and traders, who were impelled by economic difficulties to try the New World. Their identity was based on clan, homeland, and church. The Bracha Pashtowvicha, or brotherhood, was usually endogamous, and its members formed a benevolent society in 1903 for mutual aid. They established a Serbian Orthodox church, St. Stephen Nemanja, in Bisbee, separating them from both Protestants and Catholics. One Slav, J. B. Angius, quickly established himself as a local businessman and had contacts with the Copper Queen crowd, including Ben Williams, Jim Douglas, and William Brophy. While most Slavs lived in the Gulch, Angius’s success was marked by a home on Main Street, procured by profits from his hotel and whole- sale grocery businesses.76 The full extent of contact between Italians and Slavs is not known, although there were some business connections, a pattern also found in Globe. This contact was most likely with those Italians emigrating from colonies in Slavic areas like Istria and Montenegro. In 1910, more than three-quarters of a million subjects of Austria spoke Italian. Italians lived in many Austrian areas: Tyrol, Dalmatia, Istria, Germany, Montefalcone, Trieste, and Hungary.77 In Pennsylvania, Italians and central Slavic groups shared a Roman Catholic faith, although they had separate national parishes with services in native languages. Italians Used Subtle Resistance The best-known tie between Slavs and Italians in Bisbee was the partnership of Medigovich and Nobile, an Austrian Italian.78 The two immigrants ran a grocery store, geared to working families, that offered cheap goods on a cash basis. They also opened a large adobe building in Brew- ery Gulch to warehouse their merchandise.79 Huginnie gives clues to differences between Slavic and Italian immigrants in Bisbee. “Not considered white or Anglo, Southern and Eastern Europeans held a rung in the Bis- bee social ladder lower than Anglos but apparently higher than Mexicans. Slavs apparently did not associate with Mexicans”80 Huginnie’s observa- tion points to the social distance Slavs established between themselves and lower status Mexicans. The endogamous Slavs were concentrated on Bohunk Hill in the Gulch, and they focused inwardly on clan networks and loyalty to the Serbian Orthodox church,81 in contrast to the Italians’ affinity with those who shared a similar Latin culture. New arrivals from Italy had never faced the U.S. brand of racism, but they were familiar with stereotyping and discrimination based on notions of inherited traits that blended race, class, and region into an Italian version of racism that ran counter to peasants’ ideals. Peasants (contadini)

Bisbee 121 The Medigovich and Nobile Store in Brewery Gulch, ca. 1900. (Courtesy of the Bisbee Mining & Historical Museum) understood economic poverty but believed that everyone was still entitled to respect.82 Despite the obvious wisdom of trying to move more fully into the white camp, Italians practiced subtle resistance to Bisbee’s racial classification system. One form of resistance was their association with more racially stigmatized groups. Not only did they speak Spanish, but they also socialized with Mexicans and blacks, an inappropriate behavior for whites. This type of activity was dangerous and could have dire consequences. In Louisi- ana, when five Italians sullied white status by treating blacks too well, they were lynched. As J. V. Scarpaci noted, in Louisiana Italian immigrants who desired upward mobility were expected to stop fraternizing with blacks and learn white prejudices toward them.83

122 Chapter 5 Why then did Italians associate with Mexicans and occasionally blacks in Bisbee? In a general sense, they related to Mexicans as a recent immigrant group from a similar society. In the American West, starting in the frontier period, people of many races and cultures interacted. Furthermore, as noted, cultural similarities laid the ground for closer contact between Italians and Mexicans. About a fourth of the Italian global diaspora went to Latin America, where their cultural similarities allowed them to interact fairly easily with locals.84 Samuel Baily found that in Argentina, the Italians had discovered a vari- ant of Latin culture similar to their own.85 Italians and Argentineans shared the Catholic religion, albeit it with a strong streak of anticlericalism in both groups, and the Spanish language was similar to certain Italian dialects. Both groups believed in the primacy of the family. Pervasive values and customs relating to the family ranged from the role of godparents in creating fictive kin to comparable gender roles for women and men. And both groups shared a strong emphasis on being treated with honor and respect, traits confirmed as important to northern Mexican miners in Arizona as well.86 In Bisbee these commonalities were present to a point. A major diver- gence was that while both groups were Catholic, a religion not much appreciated by Bisbee’s Protestant majority, in this white man’s town, unlike many other Arizona towns, the Catholic churches were segregated. The first Catholic Church was established in 1891 in a small cottage near Naco Road. A larger, but dilapidated, adobe building on Quality Hill later housed the growing congregation. By 1891 funds had been collected for an official church structure to be named St. Patrick’s. However, by 1904 the growing presence of Mexicans led to the establishment of a segregated church for Spanish speakers named Sagrado Corazon, or Sacred Heart, located in the barrio of Chihuahua Hill.87 A factor in this decision was embarrassment felt by non-Latin Catholics since Mexican cultural traditions, such as the very public tradition of “searching” for Pontius Pilate on Good Friday, upset the white community of Bisbee.88 In contrast, the copper camp of Clifton, Arizona, had an integrated Sacred Heart church attended by all Catholics. In 1913 Father Mandin was transferred from Clifton to Bisbee. He had difficulty interpreting Clifton’s racial microsystem and became known for his role in bringing European children to Clifton and Morenci to be adopted by Mexican families. This proved disastrous when white families, who desired to adopt the children, claimed Mexicans were unfit to parent these orphans.89 Having learned his lesson in Bisbee, he separated himself from the Mex- ican parish by helping to raise forty thousand dollars to build St. Patrick’s

Bisbee 123 church for Anglo parishioners. Prominent businessman William Brophy assisted him. Mexican parishioners thus missed out on an opportunity to have social contact with prominent Anglo Catholics.90 Italians, however, could go to St. Patrick’s and socialize with influential people through church ties. For a short time there was even an Italian priest there. In 1916, Salvatore Gambino was assistant pastor at St. Patrick’s Church. As fitting his station, he did not live in Brewery Gulch but resided on 143 School Hill. His tenure was brief, for by 1917 he was no longer listed in Bisbee.91 The Catholic convent school staffed by the Sisters of Loretto was integrated. “Though the parish was by now [1907] divided into two con- gregations, one Anglo American and the other for those of Mexican ancestry, the Loretto Academy allowed the mixing of pupils of both ethnic backgrounds.”92 Catholic nuns were known in many Arizona towns for opening schools. The Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet were among the earliest educators in Arizona. Under the episcopacy of Bishop Salpointe, they established bilingual education in Spanish and English in their elementary school in Tucson. When railroads opened up remote Arizona towns, these nuns branched out into mining areas, such as Prescott. The Sisters of Loretto were brought to the Southwest by Bishop Lamay of New Mexico, and in 1899 they established themselves in Flagstaff and later Bisbee.93 Poor white, Mexican, black, and Italian children attended the same schools and often played together in makeshift playgrounds. Ernest Ruter- man, from a German and Swiss immigrant family, grew up in the gulch when his mother went to work to support her six children. He recalled playing in the cemetery with his Italian friends Freddie and Georgie Coppo and Tony Caretto. He complained that it was hard to find level places to spin tops, shoot marbles, or play ball. Girls found their own outside pursuits collecting pollywogs or wildflowers, or perhaps Mary Caretto would round up her sisters, cousins, and neighbors to sing songs on the front porch.94 Education for immigrant children points to an advantage Italians had: their white privileges meant they went to school with whites, rather than in Arizona’s segregated schools. In many Arizona communities, de facto segregation limited Mexican Americans’ advancement. As Mary Melcher writes about school desegregation in the state from 1925 to 1950, “Mexican students were pushed to assimilate by learning English, while at the same time they were tracked into manual labor positions.”95 Arizona had the worst record of any western state regarding segregation for black children. In Bisbee’s elementary school, all black students were placed in a single class. Integration into the general student population did

124 Chapter 5 Tintown, a Mexican barrio in the Warren District served by the Aira Bakery. (Courtesy of the Bisbee Mining & Historical Museum) not occur until high school. Smaller numbers of minority children continuing on to the upper grades probably made a separate class uneconomical. Mexican children who lived in remote areas requiring transportation were made to sit at the back of the school bus. By the 1920s, for a lucky few Ital- ians and Mexican youths, education offered a way out of Bisbee through sports or intellect or both.96 Some locales show evidence of hostility between the Mexicans and Italians, but in Bisbee this does not seem to be the case.97 Failing to maintain a respectable social distance from Mexicans, the Italian band played music at their celebrations, like Cinco de Mayo.98 Italian businesspeople were also too close to their clientele. For example, the owner of the City Bakery, Constantino Aira, lived in Zacatecas Canyon and later the gulch. He traveled to Tintown, a “slum with small metal-covered shacks that housed Mex- ican laborers and their families,” south of Bisbee to sell special sweet bread, pane huevos, that he made especially for the Mexican community.99 Some of the influential Caretto clan lived on or near Chihuahua Hill and ran saloons with a clientele of Mexicans and blacks. A fiery cross planted by the local Ku Klux Klan at the Caretto’s house may have been a warning that the family was too comfortable with minorities.100 Although evidence has yet to surface of Italians participating in Mexi- can fraternal organizations, as found in other Arizona towns, there was an Italian-Mexican social club on Brewery Avenue in 1924, close to the Arizona Mexican social club.101 Italians tended to be endogamous in the first generation, so not surprisingly, there is scant evidence of intermarriage outside

Bisbee 125 their group. Yet, some evidence of marriage between Italians and Mexicans has surfaced.102 If Italians were visible in the Gulch, they were also visible linguistically to Bisbee’s whites. Their persistent use of Romance languages doubt- less produced enmity toward them, but Italians showed loyalty to Romance languages, with continued use of local dialects, Italian, and frequently Span- ish. Language is a key cultural and racial marker. As Bonnie Urciuoli points out, language is a significant part of the U.S. racialization process, with unaccented grammatical English yielding a higher status. In contrast, the use of Spanish was associated with a lack of intelligence.103 Some learned Spanish after arrival, while others learned while traveling through Latin America.104 In some families, second-generation children were encouraged to speak Italian in the home and Spanish with their playmates. Given the generally disparaging attitude toward Spanish and a number of English-only issues in the workplace that resulted in anti-immigrant bills in Arizona, the adaptation of Italians to the Spanish language is counter to the goal of assimilating into the dominant English-speaking white group. Instead, the use of Spanish suggests that Italians felt kinship toward Mex- icans, since few learned Spanish for business purposes, which was not the case for Jewish and Chinese merchants; nor did the Mexicans and Italians work together.105 Spanish became a type of in-group bond for the two Latin groups, allowing Italians not fluent in English to benefit from the numerous Span- ish-language newspapers in Bisbee, which allowed them to keep up with Arizona news. El Monitor was founded there in 1899; other newspapers available included El Fronterizo, El Observador Mexicano, and El Progreso. Il Pro- gresso was, however, the only Italian publication readily available in Bisbee and it focused on national news. As was the case with those who spoke Romance languages in San Francisco’s Latin Quarter, community newspapers were shared.106 The cost of maintaining a Latin identity was a negative perception by the dominant group. Both Italians and Mexicans shared the stigma of being considered violent and prone to criminality, whether as mafioso or bandi- tos.107 The stigma was reinforced by the popular culture and media of the day. Locally, stereotypes abounded. Bisbeeites enjoyed a popular musical comedy in 1909 that was about Italian brigands. Along the lines of articles David Peterson Del Mar found in the Northwest, 1911 headlines proclaimed, “Mexico Bests Italy,” followed by a quasihumorous story about brothers-in-law dragged before the judge for fighting. The Italian was fined because he had used “primitive

126 Chapter 5 methods of force against all rules of law and order” (emphasis mine). Headlines also trumpeted “Italian Beats Wife Twice in One Day.”108 Local papers in Bisbee, as we’ve seen in other Arizona towns, sometimes omitted the names of injured Mexicans and Italians, indicating social distance between the Latin and white communities.109 The Economic Consequences Italians were in between in the racial map of the town, crossing social and linguistic lines that were unwise to traverse. However, the significant question that remains is whether this affected their economic advancement. Italians might have cared little for the social niceties of living in a better area, except to escape the hazards of the gulch, and they undoubt- edly thought it their right to maintain their own culture. But since economic remuneration was their reason for leaving their homeland, this was a critical issue. It was also crucial for the whites, since the growing presence of Italians in Bisbee raised concerns about not only the racial purity of the district but the wage scale that spelled out white privilege in a concrete way. Bisbee aimed at being a permanent white man’s camp, and those in power worked to see this happen. Public concerns emerged in 1903 over where newer Europeans fit in the town’s strict racial code. Employers, native whites, and northern European workers saw Italians as problematic. “A great question of the moment is agitating the miners, that is the American miners: viz., the employment of Italian and Slavonic workmen in the mines . . . Bisbee has always been ‘A White Man’s Camp.’”110 Bisbee’s Mexicans were shut out of the more lucrative underground work despite or perhaps because of the presence of many skilled miners in nearby Sonora, Mexico.111 Bisbeeites worried that allowing Italians in the mines weakened the argument of “whites only need apply” for underground work. Had the process of racial formation moved more decisively toward exclusion, Italians could have been excluded from the mines too, as they were in Colorado’s gold mining district of Cripple Creek. The issue was resolved by allowing them to work underground but at lower wages than whites. Italians got the worst of the deal. While white enough to work with other Europeans, their Latin status put them at a lower level than Slavs, the other in-between group. This differential treatment could be found in other areas too. In the minds of western mine employers, Slavs were the most desirable “race” after Americans for general labor, viewed as a notch above Italians.112 Whether de facto or overt, a discriminatory wage scale existed for EuroLatins in many parts of the West.

Bisbee 127 How extensive were wage discrepancies? Italians showed a pattern of receiving unequal wages in Arizona below that of all other European groups, closer to Mexican wages. With growth in diversity in the Warren District, an intermediate wage developed for Italians. As noted, in their early days in Bisbee, Italians did not face lower wages. This early advantage did not last. As their numbers increased, the percentage of skilled workers declined. Although at the start of the century, most men were miners, after 1900 many Italians became lower paid laborers, such as muckers, tool sharpeners, or ropemaker helpers. Only two were listed as bosses.113 By 1910 the Bisbee salaries in 1910 ranged “from $1.25 a day for Mex- icans, Mexican Americans and Italians to $3.50 for native-born whites and northern and western Europeans.”114 During a 1911 investigation of wage discrepancies in the Bisbee and Clifton-Morenci mining districts, the commission reported that 99 percent of the Mexicans and 85 percent of the northern Italians received less than $3 per day. In contrast, only 54 percent of all foreign born made less than $3 per day, while 5 percent of native- born Americans and 1 percent of the English drew that wage. It was evident that their racialized classification cost Italians. Underground, Italians ran the risk of increased accidents since Ameri- can and northern Europeans did not show much concern for their safety. “If muckers were kindred nationality, miners would pick down debris imme- diately around where they had drilled and the roof near the working face. But if muckers were “dagoes” Italian or other foreigner . . . the roof was usually skimmed over, and foremen and shift bosses paid little attention. In their haste to make a ‘showing’ anglophile miners merely assured foreign- born muckers that ‘the back is all right,’ setting the stage for a typical mining accident.”115 Union Membership In addition to their EuroLatin heritage, their union activism made them questionable in the eyes of mine owners. In terms of U.S. union activities, Italians were unfairly perceived as passive at best and as strike breakers at worst, in contrast to their reputation in Latin America, where they became deeply involved in labor activities, showing an ability to generate unity across myriad social categories.116 In Arizona the Latin constituency became a force to be reckoned with after the 1903 Clifton strike.117 Unlike other counties, Cochise was somewhat slower to see a resump- tion of union activism after the suppression of workers in an 1884 strike in Tombstone, when the infantry was called in and the union dissolved.118 Although strikes were common throughout the state at the start of the

128 Chapter 5 century, Bisbee did not face union organizers until 1907. The camp had an eight-hour working day since 1902, with wages among the best for whites in the state. Furthermore, being close to a large pool of labor just across the U.S. border, the threat of scabs stifled some opposition. In 1906 copper production had grown to record highs in production (64,600 tons) and prices (19 cents a pound).119 Sensing that prosperous times would favor them, the Western Federation of Miners began to organize, attracting 15 percent of the workers. The majority who showed up at union rallies were Italians, Slavs, and other recent immigrants, while many northern Europeans, particularly Cousin Jacks, remained loyal to the companies. An organizer was brought in to rally Mexican workers, although unions were not always eager to include Mexicans and other foreigners. Mine owners prevailed, but the union was established in Bisbee. Still, as noted, Italians got lower wages than other miners, and by mid-decade, many had declined from working as miners to less-skilled, lower-paying jobs. Union activism was one way to rectify the situation.120 The clouds of warfare hung as heavily over Bisbee as smelter smoke once did when the United States entered World War I. On a front closer to home, civil war raged in nearby Mexico. As rebels fought Mexican federal troops in Agua Prieta, bullets, respecting no border, flew into Douglas in 1911. In 1914 Villa’s revolutionary army fought a pitched battle only six miles from Bisbee in Naco, Sonora; again bullets fell indiscriminately in both towns, and many Americans fled for the safety of Bisbee. Copper production was important to war efforts, with ore production and prices at record heights in 1916, and the disruption of Mexico by civil war made U.S. ore a more stable source for wartime copper. But wages were stagnant, while the local cost-of-living index rose. The cry for strikes resounded throughout the state, with other strikes in Globe, Miami, Jerome, and Clifton-Morenci.121 Many of Bisbee’s prominent citizens and miners, especially skilled Cousin Jacks, continued to remain hostile to new immigrants. The Wobblies, or Industrial Workers of the World, whose Metal Mine Workers Industrial Union No. 800 attempted to displace the renamed WFM, now International Union of Mine, Mill, and Smelter Workers, attracted Mexican workers by offering to fight for them. They brought in a Spanish- speaking organizer to rally the workers and used a funeral procession for a Mexican worker to show their numbers in a march from Brewery Gulch to the cemetery in Lowell. Who could miss 1,244 workers marching in col- umns of four?122

Bisbee 129 Events came to a head in June when company representatives refused to meet with the miners’ committee. The mine managers supported the local sheriff, Harry Wheeler, in raising an unofficial army, or posse, of some 2,200 men armed and ready to subdue strikers who were labeled as countercultural IWW rebels and untrustworthy foreigners. Add the Mexican revolution to the mix as well as claims of dynamite found under the hospital and other key locations, and people in Bisbee and Douglas were generally willing to step back and let the Loyalty League take over. Fears of these groups were fueled when Sheriff Wheeler claimed that financing for the strike was infused with German capital and later revealed that he thought Mexicans in the area would seize the opportunity to kill Americans.123 Deportation as a tactic to break up strikes was not new to western labor disputes, but the scope of arrests that followed put the Bisbee deportation in the record books. Previously, in 1904, 120 Italian strikers were evicted from company housing in Helper, Utah. The immigrants relocated to a ramshackle camp that was invaded by a posse acting on its own, after the governor had refused to send in the National Guard. Men, women, and children were dragged out and harassed by the armed and mounted posse. No law was broken by the strikers, but men were packed into a boxcar, then let out into a “bull pen,” or stockade surrounded by a high fence, with only a shed for housing. No plans were made to feed them, and it was the Italian women who saw to their meals, in turn harassing the guards in their limited English.124 Bisbee’s leadership was better organized than Utah’s posse and had at their disposal PD’s local railroad, so the shipment of some 1,000 men was uninterrupted. Negotiation was not considered an option, as the manager of the Copper Queen tore up the copy of demands he received, the Cal- umet and Arizona managers refused to reply, and Lem Shattuck offered to work with his miners but outright refused to include the IWW in any negotiations. Oddly, these reactions did not dampen the spirits of the local IWW press team, who wrote that “The Mexicans are almost a sure bet” to organize.125 Colleen O’Neill suggests that the white strikers “unwittingly placed Mexican workers and their families in an untenable position.” White working-class women supported their men by portraying themselves as vulnerable females in need of masculine protection in the home. From this perspective, white women could be seen as having their critical domestic role dishonored by Phelps Dodge’s heavy-handed tactics during the deportation, as husbands, brothers, and fathers were plucked from their homes by armed guards.126 To complete the image of their vulnerability, people

130 Chapter 5 were reminded of fears of Mexican raiders that Sheriff Wheeler had generated as an excuse to harass Mexican workers; an army of Mexicans was supposedly on the horizon, yet local women were unprotected as the exiled men languished in New Mexico. Nationally the IWW had Italian leaders, and an Italian organizer was sent to Bisbee but to no avail; Italians did not respond to the Wobbly message. Only a few Italians were listed among the deportees, with some swept up by mistake, like Pete Caretto, who grew up in Bisbee and was not considered a radical by locals. Still, this could be an undercount because the large numbers of Austrians deported could have included Tyroleans and Istrians.127 Most Italians remained loyal to the International Union of Mine, Mill, and Smelter Workers, whose leader, Charles Moyer, did not support the strike. The Italians may have been wary of siding with Mexicans due to the wartime hysteria that had demonized them, since Italy was on the side of the United States, putting them in a more positive position. Any sympathy toward Mexicans was not strong enough to hold in this social cir- cumstance, since the Latins had been divided in the job market for some time. The largest group of foreign-born men stranded in New Mexico was Mexican (33 percent), followed by Austro-Hungarians (22 percent), and British (19 percent).128 There were a few Italians, like Angelo Martini, Joe Petro, Dominick Gassino, and D. Marcacci, listed among the witnesses in the case brought by Michael Simmons against Bisbee corporate entities and their representatives. During the 1920 test case in Cochise County, when deportees filed charges against their kidnappers, defendant Harry Wooton testified that he believed the Warren District was under attack by the IWW on July 12; his statement was “I did believe it. I had been told so often that I couldn’t help but believe it.” This is an attitude many post September 11 Ameri- cans unfortunately can relate to now.129 Wooten was acquitted, and the jury thought evidence of a reasonable patriotic response was so strong that they encouraged the remaining defendants’ cases to be dismissed. Miners did not see any redress of the abrogation of their civil rights by the Bisbee power structure.130 After the IWW’s failure to win in Bisbee, conditions for union members worsened throughout the state. Governor Hunt frankly thought the Wob- blies’ aggressive strike efforts in Arizona were secretly encouraged by the copper companies, going so far as to suggest that there were double agents among IWW members. The frightening images of anarchists and foreign agitators during wartime allowed the copper barons to crush organized

Bisbee 131 labor under the guise of patriotism, not profit, in his opinion.131 The tactics used by the companies to end the strike jolted the Italian community. News of Bisbee’s deportation spread to other Italian communities like Jerome, where miners were also deported in 1917. Such an act was an unforgettable betrayal of workers, and consequently Bisbee was a place to avoid. Most who stayed in Bisbee worked at the Copper Queen mine, where Henry Finotti was a shift boss, a rarity for Italians. A witness claimed that Finotti was one of the gunman who rounded up men for the deportation. Like David Milutinovich, a Serbian strike leader in 1907 who in 1917 dis- couraged his clan from joining the strikers, Finotti apparently tried to keep his countrymen out of the strife and was rewarded later.132 Those Italians in the mines after the 1917 strike experienced a decline in occupational status. Examination of city directories before and after the strike (1916–1917 and 1917–1918) shows a decrease in the number of skilled Italian miners by almost half, suggesting those who could get work elsewhere left. The 1916 directory showed that 70 percent of Italian miners were in skilled positions. However, in the 1918 issue, only 55 percent were miners, with 45 percent of the Italians in lesser positions, like muckers.133 Union efforts had failed workers throughout the state, and the copper barons effectively controlled power without organizers’ interference. By 1920 Bisbee was a city of 16,086 and still a white camp, with fewer Italians than in 1910. Over half of the Italians who stayed on (57 percent) remained in the gulch, still an area with mixed ethnoracial groups. Since they had escaped being pulled into the 1917 struggle, part of their concentration seems linked to their continuing EuroLatin middle status. Certainly, some Italians who remained achieved mobility, even leaving the gulch to move to the white suburb of Lowell and the upscale company town of War- ren, which excluded Mexicans. Others opted to leave for more favorable settings, many moving on to California or returning to Italy.134 The generally unfavorable attitude toward Italians worked against the formation of a highly visible Little Italy locally. Also, coalition never jelled in Bisbee, where the most divisive factor between Mexicans and Italian interests was the company restriction that kept Mexicans above ground. Lacking the common experiences in the workplace that the same groups had in Clifton-Morenci, Mexicans and Ital- ians did not have a superordinate goal to strive together to achieve, which effectively stifled unity.

132 Chapter 5 6

The Latin Camp The Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf District

Unlike many other copper settlements, such as Globe, the Clifton-Mor- enci-Metcalf District did not begin with a silver boom. Only Ajo, Arizona, where Tom Childs saw the possibility of mining high-grade ore in 1847, predates this area as a successful site devoted to copper. Ajo derives its name from the Tohono O’Odham, who used copper oxide for body paint. Their name for paint (au’auho) gave the site a name, later changed to the Spanish ajo, for the tasty local flower bulb with a garlic or onion flavor. Unfortunately, Childs’s timing was off, because shipping ore to Wales for smelting made little economic sense.1 Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf District was the first site to elevate copper mining to its lofty status as one of Arizona’s three economic mainstays— copper, cotton, and cattle. The district mined copper from the start. At first, rich high-grade copper was mined, devolving to lower-grade ore that was made profitable by evolving technology, which enabled processing enough copper to send to market. Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf became a Mexican camp, one where the racial microsystem attracted and supported Latin groups. Certainly, whites controlled the overall power structure as mine owners, managers, and civic leaders. However, the racialized landscape of Morenci and Metcalf, ironically, provided an alternative power base, where workers from Mex- ico living among their EuroLatin kin, Italians and Spaniards, organized to implement and sometimes win strikes. The coalition first surfaced in the late 1890s, in a dustup with a mine owner over claims to property. Shortly after, from 1903 until the late teens, Latin labor coalitions formed to strike for better treatment of workers. The core of this long-term unity was an ethnoracial identity as fellow Latins. The Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf District, originally the Copper Mountain District, is found in the northern boundary of the Peloncillo Mountain range, a rugged labyrinth of ravines formed by volcanic activity. The Peloncillos’ vivid copper outcroppings provided visible signposts to even a casual prospector. Parts of Chase Creek Canyon had stunning splashes of bright green coating on rocks, while another spot showed twin veins of unmistak- able red mineral visible on both sides, a canyon awaiting discovery—and rediscovery.2 Mexican prospectors noted copper deposits in the upper Gila River early in the nineteenth century. Government scouting campaigns against the Apaches brought new expeditions to the area in 1863. Lieutenant John Bourke brought promising chunks of ore back to Tucson but never returned to claim a site.3 Henry Clifton spotted copper in 1864 but left, lacking the wherewithal to formally file on the site.4 Mining claims remained to be staked by westward-looking explorers from New Mexico and Colorado. A group of New Mexico ranchers, Joe Yankie and the Metcalf brothers, Robert and James, prospected for gold as they searched for horses spirited by Indian raiders into nearby Arizona. Besides horses, they found enough rich copper ore in 1870 to warrant finding investors. The next year, 1871, a Colorado expedition also prospected the Gila River Valley, looking for gold. Later, the Coloradoans J. H. Holbrook and Mason Greenlee returned to Clifton, hoping to make a rich gold strike, but they had no interest in copper. Robert Metcalf, however, remained intent on copper and found a pioneer Jewish family willing to invest in a mine. Metcalf convinced Henry and Charles Lesinsky of Silver City, New Mexico, to provide needed startup funds. Robert and James Metcalf had enough backing to found the Longfellow Copper Mine, near Clifton.5 After splitting off from the Lesinskys, Robert developed the Metcalf area, and the Lesinskys, with their uncle Julius Freudenthal, formed the San Francisco Mining Company in 1873, keeping the Longfellow mine. Robert Metcalf’s nephews, the Shannon brothers, organized the Shannon Mining Company, a small but influential player, by 1875.6 Meanwhile, in 1872 Detroit, Michigan, investor Eban Ward dispatched his representative Captain Miles Joy from New Mexico to survey several claims. Ward and other Michigan investors formed the Detroit Copper Mining Company, headquartered at Joy’s camp and later renamed Morenci. Writing on mining opportunities in the territory, in 1878 Richard Hinton commented that Arizonans needed to wake up and fund development of their valuable copper resources or lose out to alien investors. Hinton was

134 Chapter 6 prophetic; they did lose out.7 However, these substantial outside capital investments were needed to boost production, develop transportation, and sell the refined ore at market. Labor was a crucial problem in these mining camps, because the remote location, primitive conditions, and Apache raids on camps made for a particularly frightening and dangerous situation. True, many tribes had been coaxed or forced onto reservations, but Apaches were not easily subdued. Chiefs like Victorio and Geronimo periodically escaped from reservations to swoop down on camps and teamsters, wreaking mayhem. Own- ers courted Mexicans with the hope that good conditions would encourage workers to stay, thus offsetting the liabilities of life in the volatile Apache zone. The Mexicans, many from northern Mexico, were first recruited to New Mexico.8 They became the early mainstay of mines, numerically dominating the camps. Mexican experts in building smelters were quickly hired and put to work in the district. They started producing copper using a special process to smelt the ore. However, the technique did not keep up with the ore volume being produced. Mexican laborers built many of Clifton’s early buildings and were also employed to cut wood and haul water. Par- ticularly respected were the Mexican freighters who, despite the rough terrain and marauding Apaches, hauled ore before railroads were built. Their sacrifices in terms of their lives and the many hardships they endured led to a positive assessment of the Mexican character in this area.9 As early as 1876 Myrick’s analysis of the Great Register of Voters for the area showed that most (94 of 100) were Mexican Americans. In Myrick’s opinion, “it was predominantly a Mexican Camp.”10 Francisco Carrasco, a Mexican miner who arrived in 1878, amassed a small fortune by prospecting on the side, a leisure activity many pursued. He sold his claims for fifty thousand dollars in 1899, fulfilling a common fantasy of prospectors hoping to find a rich strike.11 Not all Mexicans in the area were miners. Some homesteaded the first ranches. Pablo Salcido was an early settler lauded as “a well-known and highly respected Mexican of the community” when he died in 1895.12 Major roadblocks to profitable production of copper gradually dissi- pated with the confinement of Apaches to reservations, the construction of modern concentrators as refineries, and the addition of better transportation, as steam engines replaced hearty mules and oxen. While many Apaches from different bands agreed to live on reservations, not all were willing to live such a restricted life. Consequently, during the early development of mining towns, raids and attacks on freight trains were frequent; Geronimo was finally subdued in 1894, easing fears of further raids.13

The Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf District 135 The original small smelters of Mexican metallurgists eventually gave way to more efficient processes capable of handling large amounts of copper profitably. Transporting the refined ore by mule-drawn freighters was too slow to satisfy the modern capitalist market. In 1878 Henry Lesinsky built the first mine railroad in Arizona, a twenty-inch baby gauge track to haul ore from the Longfellow mine to Clifton. Subsequently, railroad companies built lines throughout the territory to open up this last vestige of the undeveloped frontier.14 The railroads also introduced Chinese laborers into Arizona, inspiring Lesinsky to bring in a very large crew from California to do the backbreak- ing work needed to fashion a road up steep Chase Canyon. He then contracted with Chinese labor agents in the 1870s to bring gangs in to work in the mines, at significantly lower wages than others, although Lesinsky claimed the Longfellow copper mines would hire Chinese only if it was work nobody else would stoop to. As F. Remington Barr notes, the Chinese miners were an efficient way for mine owners to import very cheap labor, with their racialized wages falling below that of whites and Mexicans. Sent en masse by Chinese companies in San Francisco and New York, workers arrived in groups of fifty or so at a time. The companies collected the workers’ pay to be redeemed by the men when the work was done, making for a stable workforce.15 Needless to say, Chinese laborers were resented by other miners. The 1880s brought the globalization of mining to Clifton-Morenci, as smaller American investors were incorporated into bigger firms. The timing for growth was critical because new, rapidly growing rivals in copper camps like Bisbee and Globe competed for investors. First, John Church, who had acquired the Detroit Copper Company (DCC) from Ward’s estate, successfully convinced Phelps Dodge to aid his floundering efforts. PD’s infusion of funds to their first mining venture, which grew into a worldwide investment, enabled DCC to build Arizona’s first copper concentrator. Concentrators were essential to extracting a profit from lower- grade ores. Crushed ore was passed over concentrators that retained heavier metals like copper, iron, silver, and gold. By 1897, however, Church sold out to PD, and James Douglas, who was to play a major role in PD and Arizona mining, became involved in DCC. The second major investor in the district was the Arizona Copper Company, headquartered in Scotland, which bought out the Lesinsky interests in Clifton as well as Robert Metcalf’s mines.16 In 1880 Mexicans’ numbers increased among workers, reinforcing the title of Mexican camp.17 The numbers of Chinese miners declined by

136 Chapter 6 the end of 1883; not only were they resented in the mines but they also proved easy targets for local bandits.18 When compared with a typical Ari- zona mining community, the difference in Clifton and Morenci comes into focus. Duane Smith considered Pinal, Arizona, in 1880, to be an average mining camp. Pinal was 74 percent American, with Chinese, at 8 percent, being the largest foreign group.19 Mexican numerical domination was not the norm in Arizona mining camps. Reminiscing about Morenci in 1885, Charles Bennett wrote that Morenci was a tough place with a lot of “Mexicans, Portuguese, and Italians but very few Americans.”20 The Latin character of the camp was already drawing attention from visitors unused to seeing such a concentration of immigrants from Mexico and the Mediterranean. By 1890 Clifton had become a melting pot of ethnic groups. There were northern Europeans, Mexicans, Chinese, a reasonable number of Ital- ians, a network of Jewish merchants, and a scattering of African Ameri- cans.21 The end of the century ushered in a growing shift from the days of uncultivated camp life for Clifton, as it stood poised to make a transition into a town. Size was a factor, but Clifton’s social institutions made it a city, such as a growing retail district, hotels, churches, and other symbols of stability. Morenci surpassed Clifton in population in 1890 but socially retained its rugged aspect and largely Mexican populace. Again this population was an anomaly among Arizona camps, something to be commented on by visitors, such as one sightseer who judged it to be “a crude Spanish-speaking community.”22 In the mid 1890s the local press noted the continued presence of Italian miners.23 PD eventually brought social control of the camp under corporate rule. The company also implemented much needed improvements in sanitation and health services. The time was ripe for change in 1897, when Morenci was described as “an unbeautiful place,” still looking like a temporary settlement, despite some newer businesses springing up on the northern hills. Hell Town, as the oldest neighborhood was known, had little in the way of civic improvements, with only rough trails linking one unpainted shack to another. Buildings of substance housed commercial enterprises aimed at prying working men from their wages—saloons, whorehouses, and gambling dives flourished on the road leading to the camp’s central area.

The Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf District 137 Early Confrontation between Phelps Dodge and the Latins

Nearby in Morenci Canyon, adjacent to the Detroit smelter, was another older, tough residential area called Slag Town.24 It was here, near the classi- cally named claim of Chalco (Greek for copper), that Italians, Mexicans, and other residents tested the growing power of PD in an early public display of unified resistance. Progress for the mining camp meant being linked to the larger world through a railroad. Engineering problems inherent in scaling the steep slope caused postponement of a decision about how to improve the area. But a solution, aided by PD’s deep pockets, was possible. The 1,400-foot grade would be conquered by looping the track five times, earning the new Morenci Southern Railway the title of the longest corkscrew track around. The solution also meant building the tracks through Slag Town.25 PD officials acted as though Slag Town did not exist and sent out a “Notice of Intention” to start construction in 1897. Slagtowners, furious at having their rights to the land ignored, raised objections. Walter Douglas, of PD, was assigned to “routing the force of darkness that were entrenched in the canyon below Morenci. . . . The Italians (Nardelli, Spezia, Peluce, et al.) were tenacious and defiant and the Mexicans somewhat less so” (emphasis mine). By fighting back, Slag Town residents forced the corporation to compensate those with established mining claims.26 Some of the Italian activists had acquired cultural capital during their stay in the United States. Tim Nardelli, for example, had been in the United States for some time, having been naturalized in California in 1868 before settling in Arizona.27 The time spent in both areas sharpened his business acumen and knowledge of how the system worked. The corporation could not waltz in and wipe out a settlement without some reparation being paid.28 As for the Mexicans of Slag Town, their less aggressive stance was related to feelings of vulnerability generated by the war between Spain and the United States, to which Arizona sent their Rough Rider Brigade, composed of local whites who volunteered to fight in Cuba. Local Mex- ican citizens wrote to their representative in Bisbee, complaining about hostility toward them generated by the war. In 1898 Maximo Gavito, the commercial agent of Mexico, wrote to Arizona territorial governor Myron McCord: “The mexican [sic] citizens of Mexico, residents in Morenci, Clif- ton and Metcalf [are], complaining that they fear an atack [sic] from some of the citizens of this country.” He went on to write that local authorities of the district knew of the problem but refused to act.29 The governor’s inquiry into Mexican fears drew a sharply worded reply from the local constable, H. D. Keppler, who assured the governor that

138 Chapter 6 there were no problems, pointing out that “The Mexican population out- numbers us [Americans] at least 10 to 1 . . . and should any trouble come up they have the best in numbers and it is the Americans that need protection.”30 Keppler’s fears proved prophetic; a scant four years later, Mexicans and Italians would flood the district with striking miners.

The 1903 Strike

The year 1903 should go down as a landmark for cooperation between Mexican and Italian miners. The major wildcat strikes in the Clifton- Morenci-Metcalf District involved Mexican and Italian alliances, as did strike in two other states. This series of strikes put the two Latin groups on the map as contenders in labor actions. The first strike began in Colorado, where the mostly white miners of the northern coal fields caved in to company pressure, at the suggestion of their union representatives. But those in the southern coal fields held out—and they ultimately lost out, but not for lack of effort. In reviewing the failed southern strike, Mother Jones’s assessment was, “No more loyal, courageous man could be found than those southern miners scornfully referred to by ‘citizens’ alliances’ as ‘foreigners.’ Italians and Mexicans endured to the end.”31 Their experience paralleled those of the second alliance, in Arizona’s Mexican camp, discussed below. Again, the mining union, Western Federa- tion of Miners (WFM), was not ready to support foreign miners over white Americans. The third alliance in 1903 involved Mexicans, Italians, and others fighting together to unionize the Therber, Texas, coal fields. The owner, Cornel Hunter, had reluctantly expanded his work force beyond blacks to include foreign labor, which meant Italians, Poles, and Mexicans. His distrust of these workers lay in his belief that they would sympathize with union members—he was right. Union organizers of different nationalities secretly entered the town. “English, Italian, Polish, and Spanish-speaking Mexican organizers entered Therber in quick succession prior to the 1903 strike to inform miners of the tactics to be utilized.” Mexican members of the United Mine Workers of America were experienced in union actions, having already organized in the Texas coal fields at Lyra and Bridgeport. The new union was successful and multicultural in the modern sense, eschewing the prevalent practices of unions divided into separate racial and ethnic divisions.32 Arizona’s Mexican camp workers called a wildcat strike, one with no official union sanction, that shut down the district as thousands of Mexi- can workers, aided by lesser numbers of Italians and others, fought a plan

The Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf District 139 to reduce their pay. The strikers knew they were on their own. Unions were not particularly motivated at that time to take on the grievances of a Mexican camp. It was not until after 1910 that the WFM warmed to Mexi- can membership in the union ranks.33 WFM stalwarts defined themselves as white and thus entitled to better wages and working conditions. Mexicans and others who worked for lesser wages, longer hours, or both, threatened white economic advantage. The Clifton-Morenci strikers were ultimately backed only by their families. The strike issues focused on a de facto cut in their wages resulting from an eight-hour workday passed by the twenty-second legislature. The manifest purpose of the eight-hour workday was to reduce excessively long days laboring underground, since the danger of the work was exacerbated by long shifts. Ironically, while miners throughout the nation fought for shorter work hours, miners in the district fought against it, since locally the proposed plan was to reduce both hours and wages, not to pay miners the same wages for two hours’ less work. The latent purpose of the measure in Arizona was to pressure companies that employed a lot of Mexicans and other lower status workers, like Italians and southern Slavs, to fire them, since paying them increased wages would reduce profits. The two big mining companies in the district, the Arizona Copper Company and the DCC, both used alien labor willing to work ten to twelve hour shifts at wages that were significantly lower than the union scale.34 Corporations were unwilling to raise wages and shorten hours. The local newspaper, the Copper Era, came out against the bill in March, shortly before it passed. Though local papers in mining towns tended toward hyperbole, with fears of outside agitators a constant theme, the reporter got it right when claiming that “professional labor agitators,” not ordinary miners, were supporting the legislation.35 In this case, the agitators were white union men. Starting with the formation of the first mining union in Globe, which was actively anti-Mexican, the Arizona labor movement was initially not inclusive. Thus, Mexican, Italians, and other immigrant miners organized themselves to protest “most detestable industrial conditions.”36 While this strike was generally not violent, the public was fearful of unruly Mexicans and Italians. Mexican workers established an activist role in the 1901 strike at Ray, Arizona, near Globe, where they fought against racially stratified wages. Rather than concede to workers’ demands, the Ray mine was closed, Mexicans were fired, and a policy of hiring only whites was instituted.

140 Chapter 6 In many western states where there were struggles for better conditions for miners, Italians were also active in labor unions in contrast to their reputations as strikebreakers in the East. According to Mark Wyman, western unions formed later than eastern ones, so established traditions regarding membership were more open, benefiting first the Irish and later new Europeans.37 The use of Italians as strikebreakers happened infrequently in the West. Given the Mexican numerical domination and their undoubted leadership role in the Clifton-Morenci District, many researchers ignore or down- play the role Italians played. However, Italians collaborated with Mexicans by actively participating in the Mexican mutualistas (mutual aid societies) as members and officers, by refusing to leave when many Anglo workers deserted Mexicans, and by forming a labor organization with Mexicans in 1903. As Mellinger notes, “the 1903 strike was nearly as much an Italian- immigrant strike as it was a Mexican-immigrant strike.”38 And the issue was, as was true for Mexicans in Ray, the split labor market, with whites receiving higher wages for the same job as Mexicans. A closer examination of wages shows the tri-part division. By 1885 the hierarchy was clear: in the Clifton camps, “Chinamen were paid $1.50; Mex- ican laborers $2, [Mexican] Miners 2.20; and White miners $2.70.”39 But by 1901 the Chinese were gone and the labor force included large numbers of newly arrived Mexican immigrants, rather than Mexican Ameri- cans. Linda Gordon found Latins separated from whites in payroll ledgers where entries spelled out a “Mexican” category and a separate “Italian” wage category. Both categories showed that these workers’ earnings were below that of whites. Gordon summarizes the situation: “The copper companies delineated three formal wage groups: Mexicans, Italians and Spaniards, and whites, but there was slippage between the nonwhite groups and some Ital- ians earned the Mexican rate.”40 Examining DCC’s pay records near the time of the strike brings into focus the echelons of workers. Records from 1902 at the main concentrator showed a mostly Anglo workforce (they were slightly over half of the 170 laborers). Seventy percent of Anglos were paid $3.00 or more; 37 percent of Italians, at 22 percent of the workers, also earned $3.00; while 29 percent of Mexicans, who were 26 percent of the men, earned that much.41 The DCC’s West Yankie Concentrator had a predominantly Latin workforce. Here records show that several workers with Spanish surnames earned between $3.00 and $3.50, equivalent to wages of the few Ang- los present, except the foreman, who earned more. The highest paid Ital- ians earned $2.50, and the lowest wage earner, at $2.00, was also Italian.

The Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf District 141 Some mines, such as the Montezuma, employed almost exclusively Mexi- cans and Italians, as was the case at some of the ore concentrators. Mem- bers of the Spezia and Peluce clans worked in the mines then and were used to cooperation with Mexican neighbors from the Slag Town incident.42 Mellinger demonstrates that in the mines in 1903, around one-fifth of Italians earned wages comparable to the lowest paid Mexicans, while the majority were at the upper end of the Mexican scale, clearly not earning white wages.43 The two groups shared a common goal—to improve their status in the wage hierarchy. The 1903 strike lasted for about a month, with strong support from ethnic fraternal groups and tight solidarity among the workers representing the various ethnic constituencies.44 Ethnic organizations are uniformly viewed as limited to serving their particular constituency’s cultural needs. Furthermore, many focus on critical issues such as health care and burial needs, but not on active labor issues. This strike proved the conventional logic wrong. True, Italians and Mexican had their own local mutual aid groups; the Mexicans had Alianza Hispano Americana and the Italians had Il Societa Fratellanza Italiana di Mutuo Soccorso. In Clifton-Morenci mutual aid crossed national boundaries. Both Mexicans and Italians flew green, white, and red flags, symbolic of allegiances outside the boundaries of the red, white, and blue. Italians were allowed into the intimacy of the Mexican mutualistas, an extension of the closeness they shared in neighborhoods. Membership was by invitation only, so Italian members let in were paisani, holding ideals about honor and responsibility similar to the beliefs that Mexicans held. The Alianza Hispano Americana (Lodge No. 2) had Italians as members and as elected officers; their successful integration into the Mexican organization later spread to other Alianza lodges, where Italians also had full membership.45 There was no need to conduct bilingual meetings, for Italians in Ari- zona quickly learned Spanish, as they did elsewhere when in contact with Spanish speakers. “Most of the Italians spoke Spanish and some preferred it to Italian,” according to the Marietti sisters Carmela and Giovanna, who were raised in the district.46 In fact, some Italians even opted for shorter Spanish names for themselves and their children. Giuseppe became José, not Joe; Giovanni was called Juan, not John; and Luigi answered to Luis.47 Adopting Spanish names definitely indicates assimilation into the Mexican, not Anglo, population. Company spies tried to infiltrate these organizations as news of workers’ growing discontent leaked out. Even more threatening to company officials was a newer Mexican and Italian organization aimed specifically

142 Chapter 6 at labor issues. According to Mellinger, this “Mexican and Italian labor organization . . . was not listed as a mutual-benefit society in its incorporation records.”48 What also makes this wildcat strike noteworthy is that thousands of workers, both the itinerant tramp miners and those with families, dug in, organized, and stayed to fight rather than pick up and move on. Mass meetings with optimistic speakers were held in Morenci near the lime pit. The presence of immigrant women at these events signaled their support, as did the food they brought along. Vino lugged up the hills in barrels created a cheer- ful mood and encouraged solidarity despite the seriousness of matters.49 Mine owners claimed that wages were fair, given the lower quality of local copper ore, which required more tonnage to be profitable. With neither side capitulating, the situation became a tinderbox, needing only one spark to set off “an awful slaughter,” as an estimated twelve hundred armed miners faced off a growing number of eight hundred fighters, including deputies, Arizona National Guard, and troops from Fort Grant and Fort Huachuca.50 Had dark rain clouds not swiftly boiled up on that June 11, the well- armed miners and troops might have come to bloody blows. Locals knew that July was the month for heavy rain; while June’s first days might shoot up to 100°, rain was not typical weather. A treacherous flash flood was not on people’s minds, but an unseasonably early, devastating deluge from the storm tore down from the mountains. The destructive power of this great body of water increased with the floodwater’s incredible speed. As Chase Creek rapidly engorged, creek side dwellings that housed mostly poorer Mexicans were swept into floodwaters. Between forty to fifty people died, and with them died the strike. Shortly after the syrupy waters receded, strike leaders were rounded up.51 The aftermath of the strike was a draw. The mining companies were able to get away without raising wages, acceding to only a few of the workers’ demands. However, the workers proved their mettle, standing up to the united power of the corporations and eight hundred troops in a disciplined, organized manner. Some 10 percent of the strikers (about two hundred men) were singled out for closer scrutiny by copper officials, but the early arrests centered on thirteen Mexicans—Weneslado Laustaunau, a key leader, was a Mexi- can immigrant—and two Italians, Cesteano Barrano and Frank Colombo, who was identified as the Italian leader.52 As accounts were cross-checked and rumors verified or discarded, only ten men were convicted in the subsequent trial and sentenced to Yuma Territorial Prison.

The Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf District 143 These convictions are the most persuasive evidence of the critical role Italians played in the strike. Out of the ten convicted, almost half were Ital- ians, four, a number very disproportionate with Italian numbers in the labor force. Records of national origin show that the acknowledged Italian leaders Frank Colombo and Frank Salerni were joined in Yuma by two other Italians, Gaetano Pariani and Joe Purpi.53 Like many other Lombardese in the district, Pariani had been naturalized in St. Louis, Missouri, in 1896 and was a registered voter in 1902, as was Frank Salerni, who had been naturalized in Morenci.54 Joe Purpi worked in the DCC’s Montezuma mine, for $2.50 a day, the same wage as Spanish-surnamed workers. His name is most likely Sicilian, so his presence possibly sparked the mafia stories about the strikers.55 After the strike, pundits in other mining towns tried to pinpoint the cause of the unrest lest their own community suffer wildcat walkouts. In the Jerome Miners News, a reporter claimed that the corporate leaders were “friendly to most of the Mexicans who are not blamed for the trouble. . . . It is believed [however] that the Italians will not be allowed to return to work.” The reporter also speculated whether the Clifton-Morenci District would become a white man’s camp.56 Strategically, owners were not prepared to dismiss the vital Mexican core of their labor force, so Italians were more dispensable. As Gordon notes, the Italians “were being punished for their loyalty to the Mexicans in the strike.” The end of the strike could have led to a split in Mexican and Italian relations in Clifton-Morenci, and Gordon suggests that their coalition ended. She bases her conclusion on the position taken by John Gatti, a local Italian butcher, who switched from supporting strikers to siding with his wife in claiming a group of unfortunate white orphans should not be adopted by Mexican families.57

Forming Latin Bonds

For Clifton and Morenci’s Latin community, the 1903 alliance ran far deeper than Gatti’s loyalties. Once the crisis passed on the surface, the status quo seemed to return. Still, the Latin groups now warranted constant monitor- ing. Keeping track of Mexican and Italian workers was a wise choice on the part of management. Their coalition was a record for labor solidarity, and it held for over a decade, growing in strength as Spaniards joined their fellow Latins. True, a few Mexicans and Italians sought upward mobility outside the mining industry through small businesses. Mexican and Chinese businesses were common in 1905 Clifton. It was a town of about five thousand,

144 Chapter 6 boasting some six mining companies, which created an aura of prosperity. Among the 138 listings in the 1905 Arizona business directory, ethnic business were most likely to be run by those with Spanish surnames, with a few Chinese and Italian names also listed. As usual, Chinese people faced mixed acceptance. Ah Him was listed as the proprietor of the restaurant in Sam Abraham’s Clifton Hotel; however, the owner of the French restaurant in East Clifton was crudely listed as “Chinaman.” The other Chinese businesses were laundries, like the one in East Clifton run by Chong Who Hing. Morenci camp had fewer businesses than the more cosmopolitan Clifton, with only thirty-eight listings, over half belonging to Spanish-surnamed owners, decidedly more than the two Italian- and three Chinese- owned businesses.58 Members of the “Italian colony” tried viticulture in 1906, hoping to use expertise from their native land to establish an independent economic resource. Local Italians formed a corporation with a modest capital stock of five thousand dollars, hoping to plant enough wine grapes on four hundred acres to grow and crush grapes for market. Anyone familiar with a vineyard knows that patience and deep pockets are required while waiting for the vines to mature. Unfortunately, about the time the venture promised to be financially remunerative, Arizona went “dry,” declaring Prohibition in 1914, which closed off wineries as revenue sources.59 While a few Mexicans and Italians were able to leave the mines, most continued working underground. By 1910 Clifton emerged as the hub of this mining district, since it had became the county seat for the new Green- lee County. The title related to social importance rather than size, since the town never grew much beyond five thousand.60 The 1912 Arizona business directory spelled out the status of the district communities. Clifton was listed as a mining town; Morenci, with the same population, as a village; and Metcalf as only a mining camp, with a mostly Mexican and EuroLatin population of two thousand.61 Cultural Bonds British and Scottish leaders shaped the dominant culture in the Clifton district. Their elaborate social life, modeled on Victorian England, set the benchmark for high society. Bridge, tea, and evening garden parties were reserved for those of the right social status. As in cities in the East, ladies made their calls on each other in the afternoons, wearing gloves and fine clothing, while Mexican women toiled for them.62 Santos Torres Ochoa and her daughters, for example, supplemented her husband’s wages by washing and ironing for Clifton Anglos.63 The Fourth of July was the city’s principal

The Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf District 145 holiday, which local town fathers thought was quite enough despite peti- tions from the Mexican community to celebrate their national Indepen- dence Day on September 16. Eight years passed before permission was granted, in 1919. Most white residents of the district were Protestant. A key link between EuroLatins and Mexican cultures was their shared religion, Catholicism. Spanish and French priests staffed the district’s three Catholic Churches, lending Latin overtones, since other Catholic groups, such as the Irish, had their own cultural ties to this religion. When folks from Turino celebrated the Festa di San Giovanni in June, it was called the Fiesta de San Juan. As Huginnie noted about the district, “Clifton-Morenci Italians seem to have interacted on occasion with Mexicans. The shared religious culture of Catholicism, in an era dominated by Anglo Protestants, was likely one basis for social ties, as were common concerns about living in a copper town of low wages.”64 Morenci had a Catholic Church, which Huginnie indicates was Mexi- can, located adjacent to a Mexican school and low-income housing.65 In Clifton, Catholic Church membership was more diverse and provided a way for people from different ethnoracial groups to meet. Romolo Miranda, a successful Mexican businessman, attended Clifton’s Sacred Heart Catholic Church. Here Romolo met young Italian immigrant Giuseppe Rocco Zappia, who worked as a water boy. Something clicked between them, and Miranda decided to mentor Rocco. The men met and became friendly, with Miranda first encouraging Rocco to look for work outside the mines, a move that Romolo facilitated through his business contacts.66 Zappia was born in 1883 in Reggio Calabria, leaving Italy under circumstances that put him at the mercy of an exploitative padrone. Rocco’s father, at the bequest of his second wife, paid a man to take his young son to America and find him work. Rocco did not become one of Italy’s “slave children” sold by families to a padrone who then took them to the United States to become street musicians or beggars.67 However, the padrone took the boy’s meager wages, earned working in McAlester coal mines, leaving the youth to sleep in a dugout.68 Giuseppe Cassetti, an experienced mine employee who had worked on the Gotthard Tunnel project in Switzerland, felt sympathy for the boy and took him in. Zappia decided to move to Ari- zona to establish himself as he grew older. Miranda’s mentorship got him out of the mines and eventually into his own bakery.69 According to Linda Gordon, the Catholicism of local Mexicans was a blend of formal Catholic teachings like catechism and prayers and a folk religion in which the veneration of saints and the Virgin Mary was

146 Chapter 6 important. This description matches the folk religion practices common in Italy. Irish Catholics in the United States often disapproved of these Latinized versions of Catholicism. While many stress the universality of religion, Harold Abramson notes that “Catholic ethnic groups brought to America their own distinctive styles of life, through the process of trans- planting ethnic forms and interests.”70 Similarities between Mexican and Italian versions of Catholicism became apparent in the Southwest. In New Mexico, Neapolitan Jesuits proved to be the Europeans most capable of communication with the local Mexican population. Archbishop Lamy was a key figure in efforts to Europeanize Mexican Catholics on the frontier, bringing in French priests and erecting a landmark church in the French Romanesque style in Santa Fe. However, the French could not reach Mexicans as easily as Italian priest Donato Gasparri, whose report on the successes and travails he faced in the 1860s brought into focus the differences between Italians and other Europeans. Gasparri quickly grasped that Italians communicated better with Mexicans because they accepted their popular, humanized version of religion. Italians also allowed practices such as devotions to irregular saints, devotion to Mary, public processions, pilgrimages, and even adoration of holy relics. Gasparri also made a point of invoking devotions to figures locals could relate to, such as Blessed Mariana de Jesus Paredes, a Peruvian woman whose work among Indian children and life of prayer was deemed a role model for girls and young women. Essentially, in New Mexico the religious culture of the Italians was a good fit with the local folk religion.71 Gerald McKevitt’s book on Italian Jesuits in the West offers an even broader scope on the role of Italian Jesuits as culture brokers in a number of western states.72 While veneration of local saints may not have extended very far, the adoration of the Virgin Mary was universal among Latins. Interestingly, many associate the brown-skinned Mary of Mexico, or the Virgin of Gua- dalupe, as a phenomenon originating in Mexico, with her dark complexion reflecting the phenotypes of her followers. However, a long tradition of representations of a dark-skinned Mary, also called black Madon- nas, exists throughout Europe, particularly in Mediterranean countries. Spain’s own dark Virgin of Guadalupe can be found in the Extremadura region, while many other Spanish, French, and Italian areas have their own brown-skinned Madonnas. As Piemontese from Biella fanned out across the globe looking for work, they sent back miraculous stories of aid attributed to their dark Madonna, whom immigrants memorialized in painted plaques, or votos.73 Italians too could find comfort in La Virgen de Guadalupe.

The Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf District 147 The peasant faith of both Mexicans and Italians was often infused with a sense of awe, fear, and reverence for the supernatural. Both groups, for example, shared a belief in the evil eye, the mal occhio or mal ojo, as a para- normal force capable of causing certain types of injury and health problems. And both groups knew that this was not something to be discussed with outsiders. As Lawrence di Stassi recounts from his own upbringing in an Italian community, a child learns what to keep quiet. “Early in the life of anyone who belongs to a minority culture, there develops a quick sense of what one should or should not discuss on ‘the outside’ . . . these unmentionable subjects . . . run the risk of exposing one to public ridicule. During my childhood there was always . . . the unmentionable of unmentionables, mal occhio, or evil eye.”74 Special training allowed some to interpret signs of the evil eye to offer a cure.75 Many immigrants from remote rural areas also believed in witchcraft—the strega from Italy or the bruja from Mexico; in this belief system, spells were not accidental, as could be the case with the mal occhio, but deliberate. A strega bianca, or white witch, in the Italian culture could heal, deflect evil, and undo curses. A curandera in Mexican beliefs was similar. Long-time residents of Morenci recalled sighting fireballs flung from hills, purportedly by a coven of brujas, and Metcalf was known for Old Coun- try viewpoints about magic among the large Mexican population. Such belief systems were outside the worldview of Protestant culture, which condemned as superstitious any sort of healing that delved into Catholic rituals or magic.76 These strong cultural elements produced a powerful attraction for those Italians who came to identify with Mexican culture. The famed Southwest artist Ettore “Ted” DeGrazia is often thought to be Mexican because of the subject of his art. However, he was born into a family of Italian miners in Morenci. During his childhood, his family returned to Italy during a down- turn in copper prices, returning when wages increased. He began to relate to his Mexican neighbors and travel throughout northern Mexico, coming to identify closely with the Mexican and Native American cultures that were reflected in his art. DeGrazia’s fluency in Spanish added to the impression of his being Mexican; like many local Italians, he spoke Spanish “like a puro paisano.”77 This meant he understood the subtleties of using correct forms of address. Mexicans’ and Italians’ shared value of honor and respect is encoded in linguistic forms. Both Spanish and Italian have a formal and familiar form of address. A person of higher status is addressed in a decorous way, as is someone of equal status who is not considered close enough to use the

148 Chapter 6 Dominic DeGrazia (left), holding the hand of his son Ettore (Ted DeGrazia), in Morenci, ca. 1914. (Courtesy of the DeGrazia Foundation) intimate tu with. With the intimate form comes teasing and familiar, even obscene, language, without causing insult between speakers. Latin Neighborhoods Clifton. Residential proximity in Clifton, Morenci, and Metcalf created another bond among EuroLatins and Mexicans. The 1910 U.S. manuscript census allows interesting insights into the area’s Latin neighborhoods.78 In 1910 many Italians living in Clifton were merchants or saloon owners, like the Spezia brothers and Ipollito Cascarelli.79 Clifton had several distinct neighborhoods, with South and North Clifton being predominantly Anglo. The Ochoa family lived in Clifton’s Shannon Hill neighborhood. The Mexican section lacked street names, which was not the case for the Barrio de los Americanos.80 In Clifton’s other areas, Mexicans lived mixed with other groups. One such neighborhood was on Chase Creek, where several Italian families lived near Spaniards and Mexicans. Both the Ital- ian and Mexican consulates were also located on Chase Creek.81 Across the suspension footbridge was the East Side, where numerous Chinese businesses existed with the gambling joints on Congress Avenue. Definitely, the East Side was the wrong side of town, yet unlike Globe and Bisbee, this part of town had few Italians.82

The Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf District 149 In contrast to the northern European society of Clifton, Morenci and Metcalf were decidedly Latin in 1910. By 1910 the camp of Metcalf was predominantly Mexican, with Spaniards being the main EuroLatin group there, while Italians were more visible in Morenci.

Metcalf. Mexicans and Spaniards dominated Metcalf, a thriving camp of about four thousand. There and in the nearby Shannon mining camp, located on a steep incline, Spanish miners lived in their own boarding houses and bachelor households. An estimated three hundred Spaniards lived there, which made it profitable for the Fernandez store, owned by fellow Spaniards, to stock special items like garbanzo beans, which had to be brought up the torturous trail to Shannon by burros.83 Italians lived mixed among Mexicans and Spaniards in Metcalf and at the Coronado mining camp, approximately three miles west of Metcalf.

Morenci. Cultural similarities among the Latin groups were reinforced by proximity. A local wag compared Morenci to Rome, since both were on seven hills; needless to say, the comparison ended there.84 Linda Gordon identified mixed Mexican and Italian neighborhoods in the 1900 census, and by 1910, the barrios were further delineated.85 Morenci grew as a company town, at the administrative level, with a predominantly Latin labor force. Morenci’s hills did not receive enduring names like Rome’s Palatine Hill; instead in light of practicalities, letters of the alphabet were used. Except for Burro Alley, the town did not have paved or marked streets. The U.S. census recorder followed the minimal listings in documenting the 1910 census. D Hill was filled with listings of Anglo surnames. Many census pages were needed to record the many Spanish surnames on B Hill, the local barrio. Sostenes Mendoza settled there in 1910, bringing his wife, Refugio Rodriguez, and their three children from Jalisco, Mexico. He worked underground as a miner and barbered on the side. His daughter remembered the importance of family traditions, including holidays and church festivities, as well as friendships within “their own groups and some of the Italian families.”86 In Morenci some Spaniards lived in nuclear households. Policarpio and Clemintina Diego had a place big enough for six lodgers on Num- ber Six Hill next to another Spanish family, the Gonzales family; however, Candido and Beatriz Gonzales, while having children, did not have an extended household that included boarders. Bachelor groupings were more typical of Spaniards, with large groups of young men rooming together. At age twenty Rafael Fernandez was listed as the head of a group of single

150 Chapter 6 men ranging from eighteen to twenty-two. Older men, who were sojourners with families in Spain, also lived with younger, single men; for example, José Blanco, aged forty-six, roomed with a cluster of sixteen men. These bachelors lived adjacent to another extended Spanish household, with husband, wife, their children, and boarders. While Pablo worked in the mines, Lena contributed money also by taking in six lodgers, while caring for their two sons. Aurelio Perojo and five other Spaniards lived between two Chi- nese households in another section of Hill Six. And where were Italians? Most lived in family clusters scattered throughout Morenci’s hills. As was the case for Spaniards and some Mexi- cans, households of up to eleven single Italians were found “batching.” Defi- nite regional ties of paesani meant a less unified group, lacking the density of Globe’s Canun Salé. Memories of Joe Granieri, born in Metcalf in 1904 and raised in Morenci, and Giovanna Marietti, born in Morenci in 1918, seem to clash; he recalled no concentration of Italians, while she remembered an Italian area nicknamed Little Rivara for the Piemontese from that town. Both claims have merit based on an analysis of patterns found in the 1910 census. The largest concentration from Italy was on what the census taker listed as Devil’s Back Hill, where 46 percent of Italians were established, including several Calabrese and Lombardese families. However, Joe’s family, surrounded by other Calabrese families from Cosenza, lived on Number Six Hill. When PD decided to organize the town further, this became AC Hill. In both areas, these southern Italians were mixed among other Italians, Mexicans, Spaniards, and Chinese. Joe’s memory of living near Morenci’s Chinatown, which had homes, a few stores, and a laundry, was backed up by the census.87 The families Giovanna remembered were found living in proximity on E and F Hills, constituting a home for expatriates from Rivara. Several Ital- ians expanded their homes into boarding houses. James and Mary Rolle lived on E Hill with their three sons, four Italians, and one Spanish boarder. Over on F Hill, Margaretta Marietti cared for husband Grato, their three children, and four lodgers. Mary Beruatto supervised a household of eleven, including six lodgers and her own family. One would hope the women exchanged tips on how to manage the logistics of such households. In such a small town, most Italians knew each other, but strong regional differences between North and South Italy meant the distinct groups might not socialize extensively with each other. The Lombardese, the third major group, lived scattered around, with their biggest concentration on Devil’s Back Hill. Several extended households were often adjacent to each other. Maria and Charlie Gualdoni, their five children, and a cousin lived next to

The Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf District 151 A wedding party of Calabrese immigrants in Clifton, ca. 1920. (Courtesy of the Magliocchi and Granieri families) the Pablo Carabelli’s family, with his wife and two sons and another lodger. Apparently the white census taker, like his counterpart in Globe, had difficulties distinguishing Italians from Mexicans. While members of the large Bassetti household gave Italy as country of origin, the census taker wrote “Mexicans” in the margin beside their names. In Morenci Italians formed a chapter of the Federazione Colombiana, where dances and other social gatherings were held, such as a celebration for Garibaldi Day, in honor of the Italian military leader who fought for Italian independence. A grocer in New Town, an unincorporated strip of land adjacent to Morenci, and a traveling merchant supplied items not available elsewhere, used in traditional Italian cooking. People also gathered to make wine and beer and trade favorite vegetables. Friends and family gathered for traditional Italian meals on Sundays or holidays and visited kin and regional networks throughout the state.88 The little community boasted at least two bands: photographs record the 1915 New Italian Band, with mostly Calabrese musicians, suggesting that there was an old Italian Band, and the Societa Fratellanza Italian Band in Morenci. Bocce tournaments were popular among Italians. Rebote (handball) courts were much more common than bocce courts, however. Mexican

152 Chapter 6 cultural events over the years marked days of the calendar. While the entire community, including Anglos, celebrated Mexican Independence Day in Metcalf for many decades, no Italian festival was celebrated outside the small Morenci lodge.

Enduring Strikes

While the Latin workers established strong community ties, their place in the workforce was stagnant. Carl Henrich found that in 1885, “The price of mine labor is quite reasonable for the Western territories,” also noting that Mexican miners earned less than whites for a similar ten-hour day.89 The wage scale did not change. Mexicans and EuroLatins continued to receive lower wages than Anglo workers. Efforts to organize men into a more aggressive workforce after the 1903 strike fell flat, despite some activities of high-powered WFM organizers and Mexican liberals. A report to the Miners’ Magazine in 1907 gauged the local climate of workers as hot to unionize. The article noted that Mexican and Italian miners at Metcalf and Morenci shared the same low wages of $2.50–$3.00 per 8-hour day and “a strong sentiment for organization.” The author’s reading of the situation was off the mark, however.90 The Mexican smeltermen did go on strike that year, a decade after their last failed strike over similar issues. The 1897 strike had been due to cutbacks that had spurred the Mexican smelter workers to quit work for six days. The companies apparently sounded plausible in claiming depressed copper prices had caused the cut, so other workers did not support the smelter workers, who sensibly gave up.91 The 1907 strike, while well organized by Mexican leaders, again failed to rally support from the WFM or fellow workers. It ended with no gains and was soon followed by another wage cutback, again justified by a bad economy.92 In 1910 a U.S. Immigration Commission report singled out the Clifton and Bisbee districts for discrimination against EuroLatins and Mexicans.93 Labor conditions were moving toward a showdown. World War I necessitated a major shift in the battles between unions and owners playing out across western mining camps and on the Clifton- Morenci stage. When the United States entered the war, part of the U.S. workforce went to fight in the trenches of Europe while foreign-born workers replaced them. In the West nativist hostility toward foreign workers increased. These forces, including some factions in labor unions, wanted to curb the numbers of alien workers, starting with Mexicans. In Arizona, newly admitted as a state in 1912, a bill was introduced in the first legislature

The Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf District 153 Italian immigrants on a World War I patriotic float in Clifton. (Courtesy of the Magliocchi and Granieri families) to restrict hazardous work, such as underground mining, to English speakers, a move certain to affect Mexicans, Italians, and others. The Clifton Town Council took vigorous exception to Senator Alfred Kinney’s bill, which was rationalized as a safety measure. The mayor and council members noted the negative fiscal impact of the bill and quickly addressed the safety issue by showing support for local workers and mining companies. Their resolution read in part:

WHEREAS, a large percentage of inhabitants and employees of the Clifton-Morenci district do not speak, read and write the English language, but who in other respects, are competent workmen . . . WHEREAS, the particular inhabitants of the Clifton-Morenci district who will be affected by Senate Bill #21 have resided in this [area] many years, and own their homes, and outside of reading, writing and speaking the English language are law-abiding and good citizens . . . WHEREAS, the passage and adoption of Senate Bill #21 will deal a blow to the Clifton-Morenci mining district that our mining men, business and property owners would never be able to recover from,

154 Chapter 6 thus . . . wrecking one of the principal mining districts of the state of Arizona. THEREFORE, BE IT RESOLVED, By the Council of the Town of Clifton . . . that we do hereby urgently protest against the adoption of Senate Bill #21

The resolution denouncing the bill was drafted, unanimously approved, and presented to the labor committee of the state legislature. Similar out- cries from throughout the state nixed the bill.94 However, Kinney was not done with immigrants, and soon, with Senator W. D. Claypool, another representative from Gila County, he introduced an even more encompassing bill known as the 80 Percent Law. This legislation was unabashedly anti-immigrant, since English speakers were also targeted, a fact that the British government took exception to by lodging a complaint as soon as the bill was passed. Aimed at all noncitizens, the law proclaimed that an employer with more than five workers could have noncitizens as only 20 percent of the workforce. The other 80 percent had be native-born or naturalized citizens. Voters passed it by a comfortable margin of 25,017 in favor and 14,323 against in November 1914, which hit the mining industry hard and sparked an international furor. A formal complaint was lodged in Washington by the Italian ambassador Signore Dicellere. The complaint claimed that the law violated an 1871 treaty stipulating that Italian citizens working in America had the same workplace rights as U.S. citizens.95 Other governments filed grievances, and in Phoenix, hundreds of Mexican American citizens took to the streets in protest, as the newly formed Liga Protectora Latina made repealing this legislation one of its early goals.96 Arizona’s Italian, Japanese, and Chinese residents took the issue to the U.S. district court in California in January 1915. The court ruled that the law was void since it conflicted with the Fourteenth Amendment.97 The final decision in the U.S. Supreme Court October term 1915 was that the authority to control immigration, whether to admit or exclude aliens, was not a right of a state but a prerogative of the federal government.98 However, social attitudes against immigrant labor were harder to void. Against the backdrop of anti-immigrant sentiments, conditions in the Clifton-Morenci District deteriorated. Distant stockholders were used to seeing hefty dividend checks from their investments, but the war’s initial hostilities caused a rapid decline in the demand for copper in Europe, blunting U.S. sales, which Arizona led. However, conditions in Arizona’s copper industry quickly improved as the war progressed.99 Starting in 1911 Arizona bypassed other copper-producing states like Michigan to lead the nation in copper production, a lead that continued for the next half century.

The Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf District 155 Initially wartime prices declined from 15 cents per ton in 1913 to 13 cents per ton in 1914. The lower prices were due to a concomitant stockpiling of copper by the British and their blockade of copper shipped to Germany. The European ban on imported copper ended a scant five months after it began, but workers’ wages crept up very slowly, even though prices for copper rebounded by 1915. The price and production of copper kept climb- ing to a record high in 1917 of 27 cents per ton, yet workers’ wages did not keep pace with the higher prices.100 The 1915 Strike Guy Miller of the WFM tried again to organize a union. “During the previous fifteen years there had been various attempts to organize the miners but they all failed. The effort to organize always centered on the Mexicans and Italians, who were the chief source of labor in the district.”101 Entry of Spaniards into Arizona added this group to the Latin labor force so that in 1911, approximately seven hundred men worked in Morenci mines alone, with 74 percent Mexicans and 22 percent EuroLatins.102 Underpaid workers saw their meager paychecks, already nibbled away by company fees for everything from water to health insurance, slashed by 10 percent because of the brief 1914 decline in copper prices. This time the workers opted to forgo the wildcat strike route, instead asking the WFM, affiliated with the American Federation of Labor since 1911, to assist them in organizing. The strike was called in September 1915 and would drag on for months, straining labor relations. Canuto Vargas, one of the delegates in the final strike settlement and later an American Federation of Labor representative, recounted the tactic companies used to pry workers’ solidarity apart. The workers’ committee was to have two representatives from each of the main ethnic groups. Managers expected each group to favor their own nationality, leading to strife among workers. Thus, copper companies tried to use the acidic properties of envy and ethnocentrism to etch tactical breaks between ethnic and racial groups. This tactic failed, as Canuto wrote: “The workers, forgetting for the time being their personal grudges and the antagonism of races which the company had inculcated into them, determined to join the union and risk everything” (emphasis mine).103 Others, including the governor, also refused to support the companies’ intransigent attitude toward providing better wages and conditions. Governor George W. P. Hunt was a proponent of the working man—if he was white. He was not a fan of immigrants. His seven terms as Arizona’s

156 Chapter 6 governor earned him the nickname Old Roman for his political acumen. Hunt was born into a family that had endured downward mobility after the Civil War; while the town of Huntsville, Missouri, was named after his grandfather Daniel Hunt, young George had few resources with him when he left the South. He wandered the far West looking for a niche that would offer him a chance to develop his abilities. Globe, Arizona, provided opportunities, and Hunt settled in that white man’s camp. During his years on the road, working in menial jobs, he had developed a strong sense of fair play and identification with the American-born working stiff. But the Clifton District strike meant he had to stretch his personal biases and work with immigrant workers in an attempt to bring justice. Like the WFM, Hunt had been a strong supporter of the 80 Percent Law, designed to limit foreign workers, as his speeches and correspondence showed. In his January 1915 speech to the Arizona legislature after nullifi- cation of the law by a federal court, he expressed his support for the stat- ute. He stated that the law made the wishes of Arizona’s people known, which were against “debasing” labor force with aliens who worked under conditions that “would not be tolerated by an intelligent workman.” Warm- ing to the topic, Hunt then presented statistics to show that the majority of convicts in the Arizona State Prison and patients in the state hospital for the insane were immigrants. Nor were their children any better, since the majority of the boys and girls detained at the state industrial school “belonged either to the Mexican or other foreign races.”104 Hunt was not sympathetic to employers in the Clifton-Morenci Dis- trict who complained to him about the 80 Percent Law. Shannon Copper Company’s executive Amster wrote to Hunt that the company shut down in September 1914 due to the initial wartime dip in copper prices and could not reopen if forced to hire costly American workers. Amster was apparently unaware of the federal court’s preliminary move to nullify the law, and he hoped to garner Hunt’s support. Hunt quickly replied that the company could well afford to hire “industrious, dependable American workingmen” who’d been replaced by “different types of aliens, which are almost of no benefit whatever to the State, and which, in some ways, impose upon the taxpaying public an irksome burden.”105 When Hunt was called in to the 1915 strike, he stood firm in seeking a reasonable settlement, putting aside his conflicted belief for the greater good. The Italians also showed some divided reactions to the 1915 strike call. Some were strong supporters of the union, while others opted to stay neutral or leave town. Consequently, Italians did not share leadership with Mexican activists.

The Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf District 157 The plight of Italian families who chose to fight was serious enough to be noted in an official 1916 report on Arizona by the Italian government. “The miners in the Clifton District struck for several months. Among them were one hundred Italian families directly involved. Some feared the loss of all their possessions . . . Many were compelled to flee . . . and left their families at the place.”106 Durable women held the families together, often without financial resources, when their menfolk left. Some got sporadic income from absent men, which the Italian report also commented on. Those who left found that some copper camps, like PD’s showcase town of Tyrone, New Mexico, would not knowingly hire miners fleeing the district and would sack them if their identity was revealed.107 Different responses among the Calabrese community show the complex calculus of deciding where to stand. Those from the Cosenza area supplied some potential leaders from the Italian colony, while others opted not to strike. The nucleus of the Cosenza group lived in Morenci on Number Six Hill and on nearby Devil’s Back Hill in 1910. Domenic Abate, his son Mike, and four lodgers lived near Antonio Vozza, with another four partners. Not far from them was Rafaela and Fernando Vozza, their six daughters, his brother Francisco, and Josepha Mazata, a widow who was likely Rafaela’s mother. Adjacent to them was the Granieri family. Frank Scagna lived as a lodger with Carmela and Luis Parque and their children on Dev- il’s Back Hill. The DeGrazia clan, as well as the Pulice and Magliocchi families, were also there.108 Like the other Calabrese, Pasquale and Fernando Chiapetti had left the little town of Lago, Cosenza, seeking a better life. Fernando first migrated to France, later moving on to Arizona for work. Pasquale joined him, and 1903 records indicate that he was mining for the Arizona Copper Com- pany. Fernando and his fellow Calabrese Giuseppe Spina became active in labor organizing in 1914, until they heard rumors that they could be in mortal danger from “The Company,” as Phelps Dodge was called. Under the cover of darkness, Fernando visited Pasquale to pick up the family gun. Fernando and Giuseppe hurried to catch a train bound for California, never returning to Arizona.109 In contrast to the Chiapetti family, Pasquale Granieri found the union organizers’ tactics to be heavy handed, prompting him to leave. Pasquale’s father-in-law worked for the DCC, so he and his wife, Marianna, eventually joined her family in Morenci. Organizers were rather enthusiastic about how they coaxed those who did not side with them into reconsidering their stance. Pasquale found himself corralled by prounion men. Irked, he resisted their pressure, deciding to join workers leaving for jobs in El Paso. That plan was

158 Chapter 6 somehow thwarted by organizers, and he ended up in Duncan, Arizona.110 Duncan is some thirty-five miles southeast of Clifton. The town straddles the Gila River where it flows into New Mexico. The companies were happy to set up a comfortable tent city to accommodate those prepared to leave their homes for the “refugee camp,” with numbers of company sympathiz- ers and those put off by the strikers quickly swelling. Reporters from other mining districts wrote articles praising the spotless encampment.111 Back in Morenci, Sheriff James Cash, a former employee of the Arizona Copper Company, was fairly even handed in dealing with both aggressive organizers and company men who tried to muzzle union men. He implemented a system of passes, issued in both Spanish and English, to allow lukewarm workers, like Nicholas Tardano, a chance to leave town safely.112 Of course, union activists and strikers viewed the Duncan settlement not as a neutral site, but as a nesting place for vipers ready to work as scabs when summoned. Historians differ as to the accuracy of this claim. Kluger suggests that “outsiders” in Duncan were local men who had fled the district early in the strike, later returning to the tent city. On the other hand, Marjorie Haynes Wilson states that the managers’ “intention was to assem- ble a sufficient number of strikebreakers to reopen the mines.”113 An army of scabs, if there ever was one, never advanced on the district. Frank Salerni, a leader in the 1903 strike, rejected the union this time, but his competitor in Clifton, Rocco Zappia, used his Vienna Bakery, on Chase Creek, to extend a line of credit to the striking miners. Rocco became involved with Father José Mele, the local priest, who encouraged him to help the strikers. Rocco decided to use his good credit to bring in a lot of food. After the strike, PD retaliated against Rocco by not allowing workers tokens to shop at his store. Mormon friends in Duncan and Safford encouraged him to ship bread to Safford; he kept the bakery going until the Great Depression, when he finally moved to Tucson in 1934.114 Divisions within the Italian group prevented Italians from emerging among strike leaders this time. After several months, an accord was reached in 1916 that satisfied most parties. The formal agreement was written in English and Spanish and signed by the three main corporate representatives and a group of seventeen workers.115 The agreement laid out the new higher wage scale, as well as other concessions such as employees having an elected grievance committee, the end of foremen extracting gratu- ities from workers, and the right to shop wherever they chose (except at Zappia’s bakery.)116 The report to Governor Hunt from the Federal Com- missioners of Conciliation was blunt, noting that the biggest change was “elimination of race prejudices,” fixing “the wage regardless of race.”117

The Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf District 159 Rocco Zappia’s bakery in Clifton, ca. 1917, with employees Servo and Teresa Cassetto. (Courtesy of the Zappia family)

Workers agreed to have the WFM banished from the Clifton-Morenci District, while retaining their right to organize. A charter was promptly given to them to from the Clifton District Labor Council, with the blessings of the Arizona State Federation of Labor. The strike results were not overwhelming, but workers could hold their heads up. One newspaper headline declared it “A Strike Without Disorder.”118 Kluger saw the strike as unique among U.S. mining struggles, since through it all, there was no major violence or destruction. Strike organizers, as in 1903, led an ethnically diverse workforce of Latins and others who proved a disciplined group in protests, often with their families attending rallies. Prohibitionists suggested that the relative absence of alcohol kept heads cool, ignoring the fact that the strike headquarters were in New Town, an unincorporated slice of land free from PD, where locals could have an illegal drink without fear of reprisal.119 Certainly, Sheriff Cash and Governor Hunt deserve credit for counterbalancing some of the arrogant and sometimes cowardly actions of the managers, who stubbornly refused to negotiate and who deserted the area. In fact, outside the state, many praised Hunt’s handling of the strike compared with the bloody fiasco

160 Chapter 6 Colorado’s governor, Elias Ammons, had presided over only a year before at Ludlow.120 Management had reserved the right to fire workers believed to be attached to the radical IWW, and shortly after the settlement, they began bringing in newer Mexican workers to replace those union men deemed “dangerous.”121 These actions and other changes in the district did not lead to industrial harmony, but increased tensions between rapidly unionizing workers and management. The copper barons’ representatives had negotiated under duress from workers and stockholders, since the high wartime prices for copper made for hefty dividends. The corporations were united on profit, not parity for workers. The unity that the major mining owners showed in opposing the workers takes a page from the work of William F. Willoughby, who advocated the formation of employers’ associations, which would replace the individual capitalist in labor dialogues. This cohesive strategy would result in a corporate version of the American Federation of Labor, giving managers more powerful control over labor conditions while leaving the individual company to concentrate on manufacturing processes.122 The Final Strike Within a year, workers asked owners for higher wages. Norman Carmi- chael, who represented the copper companies, was furious, and his treatise on the reasons why higher wages were out of the question scrupulously compared the productivity of the Miami, Arizona, mines to the Clifton-Morenci District. He concluded that the Clifton-Morenci mines lagged far behind Miami. According to his figures, in 1914 the average miner in Clifton-Mor- enci produced 2.52 tons per shift, while earning $2.30 per shift; in 1917 the workers were paid $4.12 per shift but produced only 2.18 tons of ore. He neglected to mention that local wages had been the lowest in the state, with a downward sliding scale for ethnoracial groups. Instead, he noted that their recent raise was the most they had ever earned, indicating that miners should be grateful not greedy.123 His irritation with the union workers focused on attitudes he considered insubordinate, especially coming from the rank and file of Mexicans, Spaniards, and Italians.124 Further- more, Carmichael disavowed a need for a so-called “super wage” that was based on the rise in costs for staples, related to wartime scarcity. His propensity for thoroughness showed itself in the grocery lists he compiled. True, he conceded, flour had increased 75 percent. He claimed that other staples had not increased very much, however. Using his figures, my calculations showed that other staples like beans, potatoes, and

The Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf District 161 ham had, in fact, increased by about 57 percent. The thrifty miners’ wives were no doubt cheered by other items on his list, such as the stable price of chocolate, cold cream, and Melba Face Powder. The conclusion Carmi- chael reached was that the 1915 strike had driven away the best miners, leaving behind slackers. He opined that these men were less efficient and more disrespectful to their superiors.125 Rising Expectations Workers held numerous walkouts, called strikitos, or little strikes. This pyromaniacal game with management provoked nineteen different flare- ups throughout the district. The continued friction neatly fits the sociological concept of “rising expectations” as the spark behind social movements. According to James Davies, when a group has long been downtrodden, hope for change is dulled. Bring in some positive change and repressed expectations take off. But if the degree of change does not meet the newly formed aspirations, then conflict emerges.126 While some labor activists cheered their compatriots in the district for successfully creating “an international bond of brotherhood between the workers of United States of North Amer- ica and the Republic of Mexico,” this enthusiasm did not reach local workers. A decent salary was not the only issue occupying miners classified as nonwhite. The men had long wanted respect from their Anglo supervisors.127 Prestrike norms were no longer acceptable or enforceable, something management did not understand. In 1916 Mexican workers shut down the ore concentrator in Metcalf when their union representatives were ignored by a shift boss; lowly muckers walked out over a foreman’s speedup tactics; and the promotion of a white man over a more experienced Mexican skim- mer prompted another shutdown.128 The corporate decision to implement dissemination of power from shift bosses to timbermen caused further anger. Underground workers were not about to take orders from workers not much higher in status than they were. Companies continued to work at the “division of races” by elevating some EuroLatins over Mexicans. This resulted in the murder of recently promoted Italian timberman Jim Maggi by a miner who refused to obey him. His death was used to intimidate other timbermen tempted to issue instructions. Carmichael’s response was to admonish workers and assert management’s right to transfer power to timbermen. Two days later, workers replied by calling a strike.129 In the summer of 1917, when U.S. forces officially entered World War I, the district’s workers, clearly led by Mexicans, joined the conflagra- tion of labor disputes across Arizona. Patriotic fervor swept the nation, as

162 Chapter 6 the United States became deeply involved in supporting European allies. Copper companies found an opportunity to close the Pandora’s Box the Wobblies and other unions had opened. As early as the 1915 strike, local rumors and headlines predictably blamed workers’ dissatisfaction on foreign elements and outside agitators. Roberta Watt cited a 1916 article in the local Copper Era that suggested that the IWW was taking hold in Mor- enci, prompting the arrest of Mexican leader Benito Mendina. The Arizona State Federation of Labor responded by sending John Donnelly to deride the Wobblies as a group of anarchists, who should not be allowed to influence workers.130 By the summer of 1917 the Wobblies were indeed on the march in Arizona, trying to win miners to their side. The district miners presented a new series of demands, involving implementation of the higher Miami wage scale, recognition of seniority, higher wages for Sunday and some holidays, and protection for employees bringing up grievances. Sheriff Arthur J. Slaughter continued the impartial stance of his predecessor, and a federal mediator as well as Donnelly, representing the Arizona State Fed- eration of Labor, worked with the companies on settlement. Corporations were again intransigent but bowed to the federal commission’s settlements that fall. In 1917 throughout Arizona, most copper camp workers faced demoralizing losses. While miners in Jerome and Bisbee faced the humilia- tion of deportation and those in Globe saw their demands ignored and the Old Dominion mine reopened, the Mexican camp held on—winning their demands.131 Canuto Vargas was pleased to report that between 1915 and 1918, overall wages rose by 20 percent.132 A Mexican delegate at the 1917 International Union of Mine, Mill, and Smelter Workers’ conference hailed the success of Latins despite suspicious Anglo union members doubting Latin solidarity: “They were sure that the Mexican element and the Spaniards and the Italians would not hold together.”133 Yet, they had held strong and proved powerful supporters of the union. Delegate Quiroz proudly proclaimed, “Mexicans in Ari- zona are Union Men.” Delegate Pascual Vargas of the International Union of Mine, Mill, and Smelter Workers and first vice president of the Arizona State Federation of Labor stated that Arizona had done a lot to help local labor organizations and to “eliminate abuses and create harmony between the working-class of Mexico and United States.”134 Morenci native Jeanette Monsegur Frick, whose mother was Piemon- tese American and whose father was Spanish Basque, echoed his sentiments. She grew up in the barrio on Chihuahua Hill, the local name for Morenci’s C Hill. As she stated, “My whole outlook is American through

The Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf District 163 an Italian Mexican view.” She loves the food, music, and unique culture that she grew up with as a girl on Chihuahua Hill, where EuroLatins and Mexi- cans blended together. While some Italians thought they were better than Mexicans, many of the families did not feel that way. Frick explained, “We fell into a gray area. We identified more with Mexican, Hispanic, and Italian than Anglo [culture]” [Emphasis mine].135 It was this melded culture, residential proximity, and a shared place in the unequal wage structure that led to resistance to the power of the copper barons and that adds evidence of Italians’ in-between status. In the right racial microsystem, unity was nurtured, and it proved to be long lasting.

164 Chapter 6 7

Conclusion

Laggiu nell’Arizona e chi ritonera lasciando le miniere forse e in piu riportera dell’oro in un forziere

(Over there in Arizona He who returns leaving the mines May bring back Gold in a strong box) —Bixio and Cherubini, “Il Tango delle capinere”

The last stanza of this popular Italian tango expresses the hopes of many immigrants that they will return home wealthy.1 How did these adventurers fare? The typical stories of immigrants are focused on the most successful and most permanent. Those who returned to Italy without money are forgotten, along with the least successful. Certainly it is useful to chronicle the positive aspects of the past. Andrew Rolle’s contribution to Italian American studies was a seminal compilation of the history of westering Italians, a wave of immigrants usually overlooked in the many discussions of the significantly larger population centers of the East and Midwest. However, Rolle and others, like David Nicandri, who examined Italians in Washington State, relied too much on Frederick Turner’s view of western immigration history. Yes, numbers of Italians in the West were less than elsewhere (although, as noted, their pro- portions were similar), and they generally came from northern rather than southern Italy. However, the third factor, as Nicandri explains, that the West offered “a better social and physical environment,” is debatable. The western environs were at times physically harsh, and Italians’ acceptance was contested by socially powerful leaders. Both success and struggle need to be set down.2 To examine the achievement of individual wealth, consider the life of Pasquale Nigro, who died in Globe, Arizona, in 1908. Nigro entered the United States in California, moved to Arizona, and after trying other locations, stayed in Globe. Although his business partner Dominico Banche was killed, Pasquale kept their saloon but diversified into other investments. When he died, his widow, Francesca, and their young son were left a considerable estate, which included property, mining claims, rental units, and investments.3 Certainly those assets were a good return from his investment in a new country (although his lack of public service meant that his name disappeared eventually). In contrast, another Italian Tomaso Quarelli, his bride, Clotilde Ricca Quarelli, and their children left a significant mark in Winkelman, Arizona, where Front Street was renamed Quarelli Street in their honor in 1978. Thomas disliked mining and left Globe mines to work on the Roosevelt Dam, later moving on to the boomtown of Winkelman. There he became a successful merchant and saloon owner. This financial mobility enabled his son Charles to earn a college degree. Charles later served three terms as the mayor of Win- kelman; thus the family gained legitimacy in the broader social world.4 Clearly, some Italians gained status and became less “in between” in Arizona. While the 1916 report by the Italian government noted hardships faced by strikers in Clifton-Morenci, the ability of some emigrants to become owners of small businesses merited a positive assessment.5 The broader pattern of the reception Italians faced in Arizona is not discerned from individual stories but from Italians’ decline in the state. The decade of 1910 was turbulent for Arizona, marked by achieving statehood, resolutions to limit foreign workers, entry into World War I, and epic battles between labor and management in copper camps. In 1920 the Italian population declined by 12 percent and did not rebound. In 1930, on the eve of the Great Depression, the Italian population declined by another 35 percent. This was the most precipitous drop in Italian population among western mining states, although most other states also experienced losses. California was the one exception—its Italian population increased 21 percent, due in part to migrants from Arizona.6

Evaluating Arizona’s Racial Microsystems

In the mining camps of the American West, extremely different racial and ethnic groups worked for the same companies. They did not often work

166 Chapter 7 side by side, and when they did, they usually did not get the same wage. The wages a miner drew were based, in part, on placement in racialized categories. Variations in racial microsystems meant that the parameters of acceptance changed from one place to another. Such differences were not random but were related to identifiable social factors in each of the isolated mining districts in Arizona’s eastern mountain zone. True, Italians faced some common barriers: a Latin identity, immigrant status, poverty, and an intermediate place in the volatile racial system. Their early entry into the territory and decisions to switch their loyalty to the United States by naturalizing—83 percent of those listed in Great Registers were naturalized in western states—did not gain Italians enough acceptance to escape social disadvantage.7 They were not automatically granted entree into the white social category. Globe Two factors identify a mild climate for Italians in Globe, Arizona. The first and most important was the early founding of a successful labor union in the copper town. Neither Clifton nor Bisbee had strong unions. Globe’s union identified itself as a white union, which meant that Mexican immigrants and Apache Indians were not welcome. Furthermore, Mexican Amer- icans were relegated to lesser-skilled jobs. Had Globe developed as did some other white camps, Italians there would have also been excluded from the union. However, the timing of their large-scale entry into Globe at the start of the century was fortuitous. By then, some leaders of the Western Federation of Miners were switching to a proimmigrant stance, realizing that the new labor force had to be incorporated into the unions. The era of the skilled hard rock miners was disappearing; for a union to remain strong it needed to represent the lower-skilled workers as well. Italians were allowed into the WFM, and they quickly proved to be enthusiastic supporters. Not only did miners pledge loyalty to the union, but those Italians who ran businesses made public their prounion sentiments. Newspaper ads for saloons mentioned that their establishments were union places or proclaimed support for the Industrial Workers of the World, a left-leaning group. The second factor in Globe’s strong Italian community was the presence of a critical mass of emigrants from the Canavese Valley in Piemonte. This shared origin made for a series of powerful in-group bonds. Had the Italians of Globe come from diverse regions in Italy, joining the local mining union would have benefited Italians generally, but a thriving community might not have taken root.

Conclusion 167 Little Italy provided numerous benefits for the Piemontese in Globe, starting with a place, Canun Salé, to identify with, where they could buffer themselves from negative labels used by the dominant group. Some gained employment by providing culturally preferred services, such as foods and beverages. Ethnic enclaves, when comfortably out of sight, benefited members through mutual aid and by inculcating their children in their culture. Residential closeness helped families raise children with some of their specific values, which immigrants often consider undermined by the comparative freedom of U.S. society. Children, when they entered public schools that were developed in part to assimilate the vast numbers of immigrant youth, entered a social world very different from their parents’ world. Growing up in the enclave allowed children to straddle these differing environments, since they could see that their parents were invested in a lifestyle shared by others nearby. If a child was criticized at school for speaking Ital- ian, she appreciated the local grocer who approved of her placing an order in Piemontese.8 Urban ethnographers such as William F. Whyte managed to show the social order within ethnic communities, in contrast to whites’ images of a Little Italy as an exotic, dangerous, and often immoral place, characterized by vendettas and organized crime.9 The support within such communities was not without costs, however. Being too insular might limit how one could navigate in two cultures. Yet second-generation Italians moved into the main community, as evidenced by Eugene Robgliatti becoming Globe’s mayor in the 1970s. In 1980, a century after the arrival of Italians, numerous family names remained: Abell, Bertoglio, Beruatto, Bignado, Bracco, Caretto, Chiono, Cubitto, Dalmolin, Faletti, Giacoma, Ioli, Oddonetto, Rabobliatti, Revello, Troglia, Vernetti, and others.10 With an estimated population of 7,187 as of 2005, Globe remains a busy community.11 Bisbee The Warren District had a strict racial code, although Mexicans and Italians shared some spatial and social proximity. However, limiting Mexi- cans to aboveground work meant that they formed no coalitions with Ital- ians during strikes because no shared goal emerged. Italians kept a low profile in this white man’s town. They did try to redress their low status among European workers through union membership, but the union formed later than in Globe and was never as powerful. When Wobblies tried to organize Bisbee in 1917, Italians remained aloof. From their perspective, the IWW had nothing concrete to offer them.

168 Chapter 7 In contrast, Wobblies promised Mexicans a chance to work underground, a major incentive for joining. Despite not having been targeted in the infamous 1917 deportation, the social disruption of that event left an imprint on the little Italian community, which subsequently declined in numbers. Bisbee is still a mining town and a successful tourist attraction. With a modest growth rate, the population is 6,177, and whites are still a majority.12 Clifton-Morenci In the Mexican camp of the Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf District, situa- tional factors allowed a coalition of Latins to band together on labor issues to resist mining company interests. While divergent groups often united to strike against unfair conditions in other mining towns, these coalitions proved short term. In contrast, the Mexican camp coalition lasted about a dozen years. As researchers have documented, when different and perhaps once hostile groups have a shared goal to attain that neither group can gain on its own, cooperation emerges.13 However, labor conflicts often ended in dissolution of such cooperation. In the Mexican camp, Mexicans and EuroLatins were both paid less than whites. Workers had enough equal-status contact in the mines and smelters, as well as in their neighborhoods, bars, churches, and other informal settings, to form social bonds. These ties were deepened by shared cultural traits. Therefore, the coalition remained active despite managers’ attempts to prevent unity. Furthermore, no one Italian group dominated the area, so no insular Little Italy formed. In 1917, Clifton-Morenci miners could claim victory, unlike union miners in other copper towns. Workers held out long enough to see some of their demands met—no deportation or defeat for them. Eventually, however, labor conditions changed with the ascent of copper barons and the defeat of unions in the aftermath of World War I. The vibrant community of Metcalf was abandoned when ore ran out, and old Morenci, eaten up in open pit mining, disappeared. Mexican Americans continued to struggle on their own against racialized positions and wages for decades, drawing national attention to their unionization efforts and concomitant lack of success in the 1980s, a century after Mexican labor activism first became noticeable in Arizona.14 A new Morenci, now only a short drive from Clifton, is still dominated by Phelps Dodge. Sacred Heart Catholic Church remains as the “jewel in the crown” of old town. Clifton’s historic area, Chase Creek, remains intact, with the Gatti building still standing, while nearby Zorilla Street honors a

Conclusion 169 pioneer Spanish family. Most of the historic district exists, however, on the edge of decay and disappearance, unless investors and promoters turn it into a successful tourist attraction. Clifton recently had a Hispanic woman mayor. It is now the larger of the two communities (2,596 vs. 1,879), and more Hispanics currently live in Clifton than in Morenci. Italians, in general, did not assimilate into the white power structure but eventually left Arizona for more hospitable social settings. Many returned to Italy or moved to California, where large established settlements gave them some power of their own to aid in developing their version of becoming American.

The Contemporary Significance

Who knows what research can find to further our understanding of the complex category called race? Social scientists need to reassess the notion that all white groups quickly moved into a fully white category. The legit- imization of research to fully explore where southern Europeans are in today’s stratification system must come from academics willing to move beyond a binary view of racial categories as white and Other, using a more inclusive perspective that encompasses in-between groups of all shades. This research helps clarify the circumstances under which complex social systems emerged in the United States, refining the historical record of U.S. race relations, leading to a clearer understanding of the dynamics of racialization and helping with current sociological concepts as researchers examine in-between groups in contemporary society. Eduardo Bonilla-Silva and Karen Glover contend that the in-between groups today are middle class Latinos and Asians, who serve as a buffer between whites and darker, lower class minorities.15 Are there racial microsystems that exist for in-between groups today?

170 Chapter 7 Notes

Preface and Acknowledgments 1. Russell Magnaghi generously loaned me his draft of an unpublished article, “Alaska’s Italian Immigrants” (1986, 23), that documented Italian laborers in Alaska’s gold, coal, and copper mines during the period my grandfather worked there. Unfortunately, unlike Italian immigrant Felix Pedro, whose strikes started the gold rush that resulted in the town of Fairbanks, my grandfather never became wealthy. 2. Martinelli, “Italian Workers at the Roosevelt Dam”; “Examining the Rela- tionships of Italians and Mexicans.” Introduction 1. Kluger, Clifton-Morenci Strike, 51. 2. Rachele’s family name was Belsito. Several families with this surname were in the area. 3. Graham County Great Register (1903), microfilm collection, Arizona State Capitol. His age is listed as twenty-three; his residence was Morenci. Philip Mellinger also uses this spelling, but Salerni’s name appears in other publications spelled Salarni, Salerno, and Solini. Non-English names were frequently misspelled. The spelling used here is the most used spelling. Mellinger, Race and Labor, 50. 4. Mellinger mentions Spaniards as an element in this strike, but their numbers did not grow until around 1910. 5. The Italian and Spanish versions of “countryman” show some of the linguistic similarity between the two languages. 6. U.S. Bureau of the Census, Thirteenth Census of the United States: 1910, Manu- script Census, Metcalf; Polk’s Arizona Pictorial Gazetteer and Business Directory, 1912, History and Business, Greenlee County, Ariz., Archives. 7. Omi and Winant, Racial Formation in the United States. 8. A. De Leon, Racial Frontiers, 46. 9. Padin, “The Normative Mulattoes.” See also L. Gordon, Great Arizona Orphan Abduction; Peck, Reinventing Free Labor; Almaguer, Racial Fault Lines; Foley, White Scourge. 10. The legacy of Mexican workers is part of Arizona’s heritage. To learn more, see Barrera, Race and Class; Cardoso, Mexican Emigration to the United States, 1897–1981; Flores, “Socio-Economic Status Trends”; Huginnie, “Strikitos”; Par- rish, Mexican Workers, Progressives, and Copper; Torres, “The Mexican Miner.” 11. Mellinger, Race and Labor, 38. 12. See, for example, Rolle, Immigrant Upraised; Sensi-Isolani, “La Pelle in Cal- ifornia, I Soldi in Italia”; Giovinco, “Success in the Sun?” 13. Rolle, Immigrant Upraised; Larsen, Urban West, 21. 14. U.S. Bureau of the Census, “Country of Birth of Foreign-Born Popula- tion,” Sixteenth Census of the United States: 1940. 15. From 1900 to 1910 the population of Arizona Territory increased from 122,931 to 204,354, while the population of Italians grew from 699 to 1,531. Calculated from U.S. Census Bureau, Sixteenth Census of the United States: 1940. 16. Phoenix Daily Herald, 9 February 1884, 3:2. Puros are a common type of cigar; correspondence with Christine Marin, Arizona State University, 2004. 17. Mellinger, Race and Labor; L. Gordon, Great Arizona Orphan Abduction, 98. Other relevant works include Byrkit, Forging the Copper Collar; Bush, Bisbee, Ari- zona Yesterday and Today; Canty and Greeley, The History of Mining in Arizona; Gonzales, “U.S. Copper Companies”; Huginnie, “Strikitos”; McBride, “The Western Federation of Miners and Globe, Arizona,” MSM-550 Arizona Col- lection, Department of Archives and Manuscripts, Arizona State University (DAMASU), 1993; Park, “Mexican Affair”; Parrish, Mexican Workers, Progressives; Sheridan, “Silver Shackles and Copper Collars”; Tuck, History of Copper Mining in Arizona. 18. L. Gordon, Great Arizona Orphan Abduction, 101–2. 19. Elliott, Growing up in a Company Town; Jameson, All that Glitters, ch. 6. 20. L. Gordon, Great Arizona Orphan Abduction, 98. 21. Emmons, The Butte Irish; Toby Smith, Coal Town; Bullock, Copperfield, 17–19; Peck, “Padrones and Protest.” 22. Orsi, “The Religious Foundations of an In-Between People”; Barrett and Roediger, “In-Between Peoples”; Guglielmo, White on Arrival. Guglielmo disagrees. He places Italians securely on the privileged white side of the racial divide. He states that they were also racially inferior, which is, for me, a difficult idea to understand, hence the use of in-between in this book. Guglielmo argues, “If Italians’ status as whites was relatively secure, they still suffered . . . from extensive racial discrimination and prejudice as Italians, South Italians, Latins, and so on” (original emphasis; p. 7). His assessment of their whiteness was generally based on their legal status as whites, which accorded them white privilege: the ability to become U.S. citizens, intermarry with whites, and have access to public institutions denied to certain groups, such as Asians

172 Notes to Pages 4–7 and African Americans in Chicago. And for Chicago, he found a lack of overt discrimination in occupations. 23. Boswell and Brueggemann, “Labor Market Segmentation,” 211. 24. Quoted in Milton Meltzer, Bread and Roses, 138. 25. Ibid., 149; Women took an active part in this strike as well. See Scrap- book, Colorado, 3 (August 1919) and Industrial Relations Final Report and Tes- timony related to the Colorado Strike, 9 (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1916), 8190–93, John Murray Collection, Bancroft Library, University of California; for interethnic working-class coalitions in Illinois, see Merithew, “Making the Italian Other.” Unfortunately, the many ethnic groups involved have each focused on their own group in stories of the Ludlow Massacre, without attention to the multiethnic solidarity operating among workers. 26. For a discussion of the matrix of domination concept, see sociologist Patricia Hill Collins’s seminal work Black Feminist Thought, 226. “Embrac- ing a both/and conceptual stance moves us from additive, separate systems approaches to oppression and toward what I now see as the more fundamental issue of the social relations of domination. Race, class, and gender consti- tute axes of oppression that characterize Black women’s experiences within a more generalized matrix of domination. Other groups may encounter different dimensions of the matrix, such as sexual orientation, religion, and age, but the overarching relationship is one of domination and the types of activism it generates.” 27. Martinelli, Ethnicity in the Sunbelt, 32–33. 28. While dissatisfaction with at least some tenets of Turner’s work is evident in the literature, it is also important to note that no new unified paradigm supplants it. 29. Limerick, Milner, and Rankin, Trails, ix–xv. 30. Hansen, “The Immigrant and Agriculture,” 45; Turner, Selected Essays; Jacobs, On Turner’s Trail. 31. See for example Limerick, The Legacy of Conquest; Murphy, Mining Cultures. 32. Hyde and Deverell, “Reintroducing a Re-Envisioned West,” 30–32. 33. Murdoch, The American West, 20; Fishwick, “The Cowboy.” 34. Bob Weldin, “Preserving Mining History through Art”; Scotti was naturalized in Pima County in 1914. See Arizona Naturalization Records, Pima County, microfilm records, Arizona State Library, Archives and Public Records, Phoenix, Arizona. 35. Foley, White Scourge, discussed the term “partly colored races” used by Handman, “The Mexican Immigrant in Texas”; Richards, Italian Americans. 36. Tortella, Modern Spain, 77. 37. Clara Rodriguez, Heroes, Lovers, and Others, 21. 38. McBride, “Liga Protectora Latina”; “Industrial Workers of the World,” poster, 1914, California Historical Society Library, San Francisco.

Notes to Pages 7–13 173 Chapter 1. Arizona’s Economic and Social Development 1. Ames, “Along the Mexican Boundary”; Trimble, Arizona. 2. Trimble, Arizona, 194–95. 3. Eifler,Gold Rush Capitalists, 218. 4. Lockwood, Pioneer Days in Arizona, 214; H. V. Young, Ghosts of Cleopatra Hill, 11; Arizona Bureau of Mines, The Mineral Industries of Arizona; Mining Magazine 3, no. 6 (1857), cited by Goodman in Arizona Odyssey, 296–322. 5. See, for example, Lichenhan, Copper the Mighty Metal, 18–19; Harrison, The Beaker Folk, 6. 6. Debner, Alessandro Volta. 7. Train, The Early History of Ajo, Bisbee, and Morenci. 8. Farish, History of Arizona, 2:297. 9. Paul, Mining Frontiers of the Far West, 155. 10. Clements, After the Boom, 28. 11. A. C. Doyle cited in Goodman, Arizona Odyssey, 166. 12. Dunbar’s Western Mining Directory, 98, 99, 110; Hinton, Arizona Mines, 7–8. 13. Limerick, The Legacy of Conquest, 108–17; Gillespie and Farrell, “Work Camp Settlement Patterns”; Kalt, Awake the Copper Ghosts!, 19; McBride, The Mis- sion, 18. 14. Robinson, “A History of the Clifton-Morenci District”; Barr, A History of the Arizona Copper Co., 75; Mining Foundation of the Southwest, American Mining Hall of Fame, “James Colquhoun, 2000 Inductee from Mining’s Past,” http://www.miningfoundationsw.org/htm/Colquhoun_2000.htm. 15. Parrish, Mexican Workers, Progressives, 5. 16. Clements, After the Boom, 30–32; Bluthe, Tombstone, Arizona, 20; Arizona Territorial Census, Cochise County, 1882, microfilm, Tombstone, ASLAPR. 17. L. Gordon, Great Arizona Orphan Abduction, 98. 18. Krickus, Pursuing the American Dream, 63–68, 103–8. 19. L. C. Powell, Arizona: A History; Jay Wagoner, Arizona’s Heritage, 16. 20. Farish, History of Arizona, 2:297. 21. This complex history is well documented by David Myrick’s series on Arizona railroads as well as in journal articles, such as Consuelo Boyd’s “History of the Building of the Guaymas-Nogales Railroad.” 22. La Guardia recalled the ethnic groups used in construction. La Guardia, Making of an Insurgent, 24; Trimble, Arizona, 190. 23. Basset, “The Humbug Creek Hydraulic Mining Complex.” 24. K. L. Smith, Magnificent Experiment, 79. 25. Chappell, Rails to Carry Copper, 13–14. 26. K. L. Smith, Magnificient Experiment, 84–86; Introcasso, Roosevelt Power Canal and Diversion Dam, 8, 16, 20; Zarbin, Roosevelt Dam; U.S. Geological Ser- vice, Fourth Annual Report, 39–40. 27. N. Duncan, “Historical Reminiscence of the Construction of Roosevelt Dam,” Arizona Room, Hayden Library, Arizona State University, 1955.

174 Notes to Pages 15–23 28. Mink, Old Laborer and New Immigrants, 109. 29. J. J. Casserly, “Barry Goldwater, Arizonan,” Arizona Republic, 9 January 1981, sec. A, p. 6; Foerster, Italian Emigration, 352. 30. U.S. Bureau of the Census, Special Reports: Occupations, 224–27; Mahoney, “Our Italian American Heritage”; Martinelli, “Pioneer Paesani.” 31. Rogge et al., Raising Arizona’s Dams, 153. 32. Ibid., 150–51. 33. Fitzpatrick and La Gory, Unhealthy Places, 18. 34. Love, Mining Camps, 19–21; E. Conklin, Picturesque Arizona. 35. Clements, After the Boom, 163. 36. Love, Mining Camps, 21. 37. Abrahamson, Urban Enclaves, 6–8. 38. Bailey, Bisbee, 64–65. 39. Allen, “The Company-Owned Mining Town,” 177–78. 40. Huginnie, “‘Strikitos’”; Rios-Bustamante, “‘As Guilty as Hell.’” 41. Barnes and Granger, Arizona Place Names; Allen, Company Town, 39; Zola Hall, interview by Paul Machala, 1996, [email protected]. 42. Rickard, “The Copper Ores of Ajo, Arizona.” 43. Trimble, Arizona, 28–29. 44. Colquhoun, “History of Clifton-Morenci.” 45. Banks, Stalwart Women, 9; Glick, “Arizona Population Trends,” 22. 46. Helen Bechetti Dover, interview by author, 1980. 47. J. E. Smith, Family Connections. 48. Copper Era, 19 February 1903; Arizona, “Annual Report of the State Mine Inspector,” 1913–1914. 49. Martinelli, “Pioneer Paesani,” 153–69. 50. Arundale, Minerals in the Economy of Arizona; Ted Robbins, “Arizona is Top U.S. Copper Producer,” National Public Radio, November 2007. Chapter 2. The Arizona Tango 1. Bixio and Cherubini, “Il Tango delle Capinere.” Arizona oral histories made me aware of this song; Sebastiano Tona provided me a copy of the verses; and Nicole Martinelli found a recording for me. Lyrics and song are now available on Internet sites, such as www.bixio.it. 2. Opinions of Nizza vary as do accounts of what he saw; I relied on his diary: His Own Personal Narrative, 13. 3. Greeley, “Early Influence of Mining,” 14. 4. Information on Chino and Salvaterra come from two sources: Sachs collection, Pioneer Period, 1854–1880, Hayden Library, Arizona Historical Founda- tion, Arizona State University; Schiavo, The Italians in America Before the Civil War. 5. Rolle, “Italians in the American West Before the Civil War.” 6. Billington, Land of Savagery, 74, 87; Torrielli, Italian Opinion on America, 17–27.

Notes to Pages 23–34 175 7. Such imagery is in many sources, for example, in Arthur Mann’s Immi- grants in American Life, 5, when he discusses the “Flood Tide of Immigration” or when Oscar Handlin describes the “wave-like movement” that swept Europe- ans “from the Old World to the New”; Immigration as a Factor in American History. 8. Juliani, Building Little Italy; Sachs Collection, Arizona State University, provided some materials on this Perazzo family. Kim Kemp, a former student, provided information on her Perazzo family from the same area. 9. Yavapai County Great Register, microfilm, ASLAPR; correspondence from Georgia Garbarino Biller to author about her grandfather. 10. Perazzo’s history is based primarily on material in the Sachs Collection, Pioneer Period, 1854–1880. 11. Others included Juan Leandry and Pedro Comolero. Elizabeth Rhoades, “Foreigners in Southern California.” 12. Walker and Bufkin, Historical Atlas of Arizona, 41. 13. Dondero, Go West!, 19. 14. Crosby, “The Italians of Los Angeles,” 9. 15. Goff, Arizona Civilization, 41. 16. Manuel Ravena became the earliest merchant in La Paz, but by 1864 he was joined by a number of Jewish immigrants, like Big Mike, Joseph Goldwa- ter, and Bernard Cohn. Renner, “La Paz.” 17. Hatcher, “The Death of Arizona Mining Towns,” 5. 18. Sachs Collection, Pioneer Period, 1854–1880. 19. Martinelli, “Italy in Phoenix,” 319. 20. My research on Arizona is based on the Great Registers of Voters for all counties for the years of peak migration for Italians from 1880 to 1910, with collected data on 560 men born in Italy. The registers, which are limited to men who became naturalized, supplied information on individuals’ age, current residence, and locality where they were naturalized. This allowed an examination of the movement of the migrants throughout the United States, showing the wave of immigrants as it moved throughout America. I analyze this data in an unpublished manuscript titled “Laggiu nell’Arizona, Patterns of Migration to Arizona.” 21. Gramsci, “The Southern Question,” 28. 22. D. M. Smith, Italy, 39. 23. Cinel, The National Integration. 24. Gabaccia and Ottanelli, Italian Workers of the World, 1–5. 25. Foerster, Italian Emigration, 47–126. 26. Colorado is the only state that had a preponderance of southerners. U.S. Commissioner-General of Immigration, Annual Report. 27. Based on Arizona birth and death certificates for select mining counties: Gila, Greenlee, Cochise, and Yavapai. This line of inquiry was not planned, however; upon finding a few examples, I began to note when such a designation was used. However, due to time constraints, I did not pursue a large-scale

176 Notes to Pages 35–39 study, which would need to systematically include all who were represented as white. 28. Louise DeSalvo states that the American clerk who registered her grandmother did not enter “complexion fair.” Her grandmother was “from the South of Italy, . . . she had to be dark, not fair.” Ch. 1, “Color: White/Complexion: Dark,” 17–28, Guglielmo and Salerno, Are Italians White?. For the record, I am half Sicilian and half Piemontese and try to see both sides of the North-South Ital- ian divide. See the classic rock song by Procol Harum for the phrase “A Whiter Shade of Pale.” 29. Lowell Parker, “Gold Dreams of New York Curdled, so Italians headed West,” Arizona Republic, 15 March 1976. This ledge may have been rediscovered by Benjamin McLendon and renamed the Big Ben Mine, or N—er Ben Mine. He too was killed by Indians. 30. Joseph Granieri, 1982, Donald Chiappetti, 1979, Louise Chiappetti Rice, 2001, interviews by author. 31. Bourdieu, Outline of a Theory of Practice, 171–84; Portes, “Social Capital.” 32. Peck, Reinventing Free Labor, 127, fig. 4.1. 33. Nicandri, Italians in Washington State, 37. 34. Rusty Verretto, interview by Helen Bechetti Dover, n.d. 35. Meinig, The Southwest. 36. Andrew Rolle is a main proponent of this view. See Immigrant Upraised. 37. Bryant, Miss Giardino, 5–6. 38. U.S. Bureau of the Census, “Statistics of Occupations.” 39. Ibid.; Martinelli, “Laggiu nell’Arizona.” 40. The large-scale system described by Peck that moved hundreds of men west, under the control of a labor broker like Cordasco, did not emerge in Ari- zona. Peck, Reinventing Free Labor. 41. Arizona Republican, 16 June 1906. 42. Martinelli, “Italian Workers at the Roosevelt Dam.” 43. Maricopa County Immigration Union, Salt River Valley, 3. 44. The Clifton-Morenci District was in Graham County at first, but part of the area split off, becoming Greenlee County. The next largest concentration of Italians was in counties with agriculture-based economies, or a combination of mining and other economies. These included Pima, with 8 percent of the immigrants; Maricopa, with 7 percent; Pinal and Mohave, with 4 percent; and Yuma, with 2 percent. 45. Theresa Abell Dehart, Globe, Arizona, interview by author, 1981; Globe city directories, 1916–1928, and Gila County Declaration of Intent Records, microfilm, ASLAPR. 46. Baily, Immigrants in the Lands of Promise, 7. 47. Haak, “The Old Dominion Copper Mine.” 48. Monahan, Tombstone’s Treasure, 146.

Notes to Pages 39–44 177 49. Murphy, Mining Cultures, 44–48. 50. Lord, Trenor, and Barrows, The Italian in America, 99–102. 51. James Aira, taped interview, Bisbee Mining Museum, 1980. 52. Eppinga, “Stories of a Great Pioneer Family.” 53. J. J. Casserly, “The Jews in Arizona: An Immense Journey,” Arizona Repub- lic, 9 December 1984. 54. Mormino, Immigrants on the Hill, 35–39. 55. Copper Era, 9 April 1903, p. 3. 56. Graham County Great Register of Voters (GRV), 1894, Ypolito Case- arello; Graham County GRV, 1902, Emil Merlo and Gaetano Pariani. 57. Graham County GRV, 1910. All Vozzas were naturalized in Arizona, evidence of a direct migration from Italy. 58. Interviews by author and family materials from Don Chiapetti and Lou- ise Chiapetti Rice, 2000. 59. Winn, America Is, 116–17. 60. Parrillo, Strangers to These Shores, 105–6. 61. The peak of immigration for most European nations was between 1900 and 1910, which declined by some 46 percent in the following decade related to the outbreak of World War I and growing nativism; yet in this peak decade, Spain had only a very minor immigration. In the period 1901–1910, European migration was at 8,056,040, declining to 4,321,887 by 1911–1920. 62. Between 1911 and 1920, Spaniards increased 146 percent, from 27,935 to 68,611. I calculated this percentage using data on U.S. immigration from 1820 to 1998 supplied in Parrillo, Strangers to These Shores, appendix 2. Any errors are mine. 63. The exception to those in mining would be those recruited to work in the Hawaiian sugar cane field, which they quickly left. 64. Esdiale, Spain in the Liberal Age; Moya, Cousins and Strangers; Shubert, A Social History of Modern Spain. 65. Hildalgo, “Spaniards in Southern West Virginia”; Clyne, Coal People. 66. Shubert, Road to Revolution, 33. 67. Davis et al., “Rio Tinto Estuary.” 68. Checkland, Mines of Tharsis. 69. Pérez López, Los Conflictos Sociales, 20–24; translation courtesy of Irene Cedillo and Parkin Kent. 70. Avery, Not on Queen Victoria’s Birthday. 71. Checkland, Mines of Tharsis, 187. 72. Carton I, Scrap Book: Arizona & New Mexico, February 21, 1914, Jack- ling papers, Ray mine file, Bancroft, University of California, Berkeley, 73. Olmos, “Sonora Arizona Adventures,” 26. 74. Spezia, Tour of Chase Creek. 75. Prichard, “Paradise Found?” 97. 76. Shubert, Road to Revolution, 33.

178 Notes to Pages 44–49 77. The category for southern Europeans as Greeks, Italians, Spaniards, and Portuguese is based on the 1940 U.S. census categories. 78. Jasso and Rosenzweig, New Chosen People, 27–28; Parrillo, Strangers to These Shores, 105–6. 79. Higham, Strangers in the Land, 9. 80. Mayo-Smith, Emigration and Immigration. 81. Handlin, Race and Nationality, 77. 82. L. J. Brown, Literature of Immigration, 14–15; Dinnerstein, Nichols, and Reimers, Natives and Strangers, 119. 83. Harney, “Italophobia.” 84. Davenport, “The Exodus of a Latin People,” 31 (in 1904 ed.). Virgil, The Aeneid of Virgil, 1; Dickie, Darkest Italy. 85. Jasso and Rosenzweig, New Chosen People, 31–32; Pedraza, “Origins and Destinies.” 86. U.S. Immigration Commission, Japanese and Other Immigrant Races, 132– 133. The small numbers of South Italians and Spaniards were too small in number to be included. 87. Dillingham Commission Report, 150. 88. Perlmann, Italians Then, Mexicans Now, 50, 118. Jewish emigrants are not included in his calculations. 89. A few examples include early merchants like Gandolfo and Sanguinetti of Yuma, the Giragi brothers who established themselves in newspapers, the Rabobliattis of Globe, Bechetti of Cottonwood, the Caretto clan of Bisbee and Globe, the Zappias of Clifton, and many others. Chapter 3. Encountering the Sting of Racism 1. La Guardia, Making of an Insurgent, 26–28. 2. Stitt, “Fickle Friends,” 99. 3. Standpoint theory uses perspectives from people of different social locations, especially valued are insights of marginalized groups. See for example Dorothy Smith, “Women’s Perspective.” 4. Melchiorre et al., “Rich Hill, Arizona”; Goodson, Story of Congress, 12–16; Harris, First Hundred Years. 5. Mowry, “The Mines of the West: Shall the Government Seize Them?” American Mining Gazette 1 (June 1864), cited in Goodman, Arizona Odyssey, 169; Wagoner, Arizona’s Heritage, 158. 6. Woodwroth, “Public Schooling in Territorial Arizona.” 7. A. De Leon, Racial Frontiers, 88. 8. The history of Arizona’s native people is long and complex; the reader is encouraged to find books and articles specifically on this topic. 9. A. De Leon, Racial Frontiers, 21, table 2. 10. Ibid. 11. U.S. Bureau of the Census, “Statistics of Occupations.”

Notes to Pages 50–57 179 12. Wagoner, Arizona’s Heritage; Johnson, Phoenix, 76. 13. Arizona Gazette Daily, 17 and 18 October 1913. 14. Arizona Republican, 15 February 1893. 15. Anderson and Anderson, Honor the Past, 77. 16. Arizona Democrat, 29 April 1912. 17. Hoyt, Asians in the West, 13. 18. Lister and Lister, Chinese of Tucson. 19. Jacques, “Have Quick More Money,” 201; Clifford Perkins, “Reminis- cences of a Chinese Inspector,” 181. 20. Sheridan, “Silver Shackles and Copper Collars,” 177. 21. Prichard, “Paradise Found?”; Reisdorfer, “Charlie Hong”; Tintle, “History of Chinese Immigration,” 57. 22. Fong, “Sojourners and Settlers”; Chinese women were very few in number—most men planned to return to China. Those who decided to stay were barred from bringing their families to the United States. Many Asian women in Arizona were prostitutes, whose stigma tainted all Chinese women. 23. Shortridge, Childhood Memories. 24. Sheridan, Los Tucsonese. 25. Barrera, Race and Class, 83. 26. Patrick Hamilton, quoted in Montoya, Political Domination. 27. Love, Mining Camps, 157. 28. Almaguer, Racial Fault Lines, 8–9; Foley, The White Scourge, 40–43. I have published pervious articles using the term “partly racialized” to describe Italian Americans. See the introduction (this volume) for a complete discussion. 29. L. Gordon, Great Arizona Orphan Abduction, 243. 30. Arizona Bureau of Public Health Statistics, Pima County Death Certificates, www.azdh.gov. 31. L. Gordon, Great Arizona Orphan Abduction, 101. 32. Peck, Reinventing Free Labor, 207. 33. Mormino and Pozzetta, The Immigrant World of Ybor City, 188. 34. McBride, “The Liga Protectora Latina.” 35. Sheridan, “Silver Shackles and Copper Collars.” 36. Van Nuys, Americanizing the West, 15, 69. 37. Higham, Strangers in the Land, 77–87. 38. Lawrence Mosqueda, “Twentieth Century Arizona.” 39. Del Mar, Beaten Down, 103–5. 40. McKanna, Homicide, Race, and Justice, 88. 41. Weber, “Domination and Legitimacy.” 42. Foucault, “Knowledge as Power,” 465. 43. “An Exciting Trip Through the Tunnel,” Arizona Republican, 15 July 1906, p. ll. 44. Huginnie, “A New Hero Comes to Town.” 45. Vaughn, “Everyday Life in a Copper Camp.”

180 Notes to Pages 57–67 46. “Cave In,” Arizona Daily Citizen, 2 November 1888, sec. 1, p. 3; Phoenix Daily Herald, 3 November 1888, sec. 2, p. 2; Vaughn, “Everyday Life in a Cop- per Camp.” 47. Phoenix Herald, 7 March 1882, 21 October 1896. 48. Del Mar, Beaten Down, 103–4. 49. Could this event have been a vendetta? That is unknown, but the point is that the press labeled it as such without any evidence. Watt, “History of Morenci,” 111, quoting Copper Era, 17 December 1901. 50. McKanna, Homicide, Race, and Justice, 88. 51. Arizona Republic, 18 March 1891, 15 March 1891. 52. Schneider and Schneider, Reversible Destiny, 24–43. 53. Arizona Gazette, 1 October 1897. 54. J. L. B. Alexander, Phoenix, to Paulo Perazzo, Ciavari, Italy, 5 Sep- tember 1908, box 15, folder 49, J. L. B. Alexander Collection, Arizona State University. 55. La Guardia, Making of an Insurgent, 25. 56. Arizona Bulletin, 26 June 1903, cited by Brophy, Foundlings on the Frontier, 18. 57. Watt, “History of Morenci,” fn. 31, 61, quoting Morenci Leader, 8 July 1905. 58. D. De Leon, The American as Anarchist. 59. La Voce Del Popolo (San Francisco), 10 October 1916. Courtesy of Andrew Canepa. 60. Avrich, Anarchist Portraits, 164. 61. Cockcroft, Intellectual Precursors of the Mexican Revolution. 62. L. Gordon, Great Arizona Orphan Abduction, 228. 63. Byrkit, “Life and Labor,” 21. 64. Matewan, dir. John Sayles, Cinecom Entertainment Group, 1987. 65. Beik, Miners of Windber. 66. A. K. Powell, Next Time We Strike, 80. 67. Chicago Daily Socialist, Scrapbook, vol. 1, F. Murray, Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley. 68. W. Young, Postmortem. 69. W. P. Harlow to Governor McCord, 18 July 1898, Correspondence File for Governor Myron H. McCord, ASLAPR. 70. Du Bois, Crisis Writings, 123. 71. Cochise County GRV, 1890–1896, ASLAPR. 72. R. M. Brown, “Western Violence.” 73. Maxwell, “Cordelia Adams Crawford.” 74. Arizona Republic, 19 May 1906, p. 3. 75. Leonard, Lynching, 6–7; Rolle, Immigrant Upraised. 76. Rosales, ¡Pobre Raza!. 77. Pfeifer, Rough Justice, 9.

Notes to Pages 67–74 181 78. Colorado Portrait and Biographical Record, Cavalier Guiseppe Cuneo, M.D., www.memoriallibrary.com/CO/1898DenverPB. 79. Leonard, Lynching, ch. 6, “Race and Lynching,” pp. 123–54, details the lynching of Italians. Quotation on 142. 80. Salvetti, Corda e sapone, 41–48. 81. Bisbee Daily Review, 15 December 1910. 82. A partial list of lynchings can be found in Krickus, Pursuing the Ameri- can Dream, 68. The most infamous lynching of Italians was in 1890 in New Orleans. Other lynchings occurred throughout the United States from the 1870s through the 1920s. See, for example, Gambino, Vendetta; Scarpaci, Ital- ian Immigrants in Louisiana. 83. Pfeifer, Rough Justice, 43–44. 84. McKanna, Homicide, Race, and Justice, 88. 85. Ibid., 153, 163. 86. William Freudenburg and Robert Jones, “Criminal Behavior and Rapid Community Growth: Examining the Evidence,” Rural Sociology 56 (Winter 1991): 620, cited in McKanna, Homicide, Race, Justice, 156. 87. Gonzales-Day, Lynching in the West, 24. In email correspondence, 2006, with him, I asked if three other surnames were Italian. He was kind enough to send me information clearly showing that two were not Italian, and a third name, Vuga, may be. Chapter 4. What’s in a Name? 1. Octavio Paz, “Postdata,” is quoted in Ferré, Eccentric Neighborhoods, 10. 2. Jensen and Blevins, The Last Gamble, 3–4. This mining community study of gaming halls established to boost sagging economies included Central City and Black Hawk near Denver, and Cripple Creek near Colorado Springs. Fol- lowing this example, other western mining camps in Colorado opened low- stake gambling in the early 1990s. In examining the Rocky Mountain gambling initiatives, Jensen and Blevins were ambivalent about whether the towns really benefited from the addition of “sin enterprise.” 3. Bigando, Globe, Arizona, 6. 4. Anderson and Anderson, Honor the Past, 75. 5. Ransome, Geology of the Globe Copper District. 6. Arizona Territorial Census, Gila County, 1882, State of Arizona Archives. 7. A. B. Young, “A Social History of Early Globe.” 8. Anderson and Anderson, Honor the Past, 75. 9. McKanna, Homicide, Race, and Justice, 137. 10. Maxwell, “Cordelia Adams Crawford,” 424–26. 11. Clara Woody, Globe, Arizona, 203–4. 12. Arizona Silver Belt, 1906 (no specific date). 13. McKanna, Homicide, Race, and Justice, 153.

182 Notes to Pages 74–81 14. “Vendetta,” Arizona Silver Belt, 16 August 1880. 15. Mahoney, “Our Italian American Heritage,” 25 August 1957, p. 23. Cubitto thought the Italian population was approximately four hundred men, but since she was born in 1904, the figure is questionable. 16. Farish, History of Arizona, 3:360. 17. The sociologist credited with introducing the concept of modern risk and risk assessment into social debate is Ulrich Beck. He defines risk as “a systematic way of dealing with hazards and insecurities induced and introduced by modernization itself.” Beck, Risk Society, 21. 18. Snow, Communication of Cholera. Snow studied the occupational risks with disease faced by British miners, discovering that cholera was spread by occupational demands since workers had no privies once underground, and their eight to nine hour work day meant bringing their lunches to be consumed with unwashed hands. Men and boys brought cholera home to crowded dwellings; sanitation being a luxury few could afford. Similar conditions existed in some U.S. mines. As Mary Murphy notes, in Butte’s mines, heat and humidity added to the problems of working underground. The lack of toilet cars before 1916, mule dung, and rotting food added to the unsanitary conditions in these copper mines. 19. Hamilton, Exploring the Dangerous Trades, 216–17. 20. Jeanette Caretto Bowling, correspondence regarding her grandfather Giacamo [sic] “Jim” Bertino and his brothers, 2007. 21. Mellinger, Race and Labor, 21–22. 22. Park, “Mexican Affair,” 15. 23. Mellinger, Race and Labor, 23. 24. McBride, “Western Federation of Miners,” 11. 25. McKanna, Homicide, Race, and Justice, 124. 26. Globe Miners’ Union correspondence, 15 January 1902, Gila County file, ASLAPR. 27. Mellinger, Race and Labor, 83–84. 28. McBride, “Western Federation of Miners.” 29. “Labor and Politics,” Arizona Silver Belt, 22 December 1896; A. Reyn- olds Coleman, “The Underground History,” The Border, Globe Special Edition, 1909, 14. 30. Parrish, Mexican Workers, Progressives, 13–14; McBride, “Western Federa- tion of Miners,” 13. 31. Anna “Nina” Troglia Faletti, interview by author, 1981. 32. Jeanette Caretto Bowling, interview by author, 1981. 33. The Border, Globe Special Section, February 1909, 21. 34. Ibid., 24. 35. Mellinger, Race and Labor, 184–85. 36. “Conditions and Events Connected with Labor Strikes in the Globe- Miami Mining District,” (Arizona Chapter, American Mining Congress, 1917), 9.

Notes to Pages 81–86 183 37. Arizona Republican, 20 October 1917, 22 October 1917. 38. Overstreet, “ON STRIKE!” 39. Woody, Globe, Arizona, 203. 40. Haak, Copper Bottom Tales, 42–43, 62. 41. Polk’s Globe-Miami city directories 1905, 1916–1917, 1918–1919, ASLAPR. 42. Diliberto, A Useful Woman, 150. 43. Bullock, Copperfield, 16. 44. Melinda Milligan, “Displacement and Identity Continuity,” Symbolic Interaction 26 (2003), cited in Mark Abrahamson, Urban Enclaves, 10. 45. Bowling correspondence, 2007. 46. Sanborn Map Company, Globe, Ariz., Feb. 1909, North Globe, Section 259, microfilm, University of California Library, Berkeley. 47. Foerster, Italian Emigration, 324–27. 48. Eugene Rabogliatti, interview by author, 1981. 49. Weber, “Ethnic Groups,” 306; M. Gordon, Assimilation, 38. 50. Clyne, Coal People, 46. 51. Barth, Ethnic Groups and Boundaries, 10. 52. Stitt, “Fickle Friends,” 112. 53. Nita (Antonetta) Morello Brigante, interview by author, 1982. 54. The Lega Fratellanza Rule Book, Globe, Ariz., 1924, describes the history of the lodge and its affiliation to the national organization. Donated to the author by E. Rabogliatti, 1981. 55. Globe City Directory 1916. 56. Bigando, Holy Angels Catholic Church, 8–12. 57. Anna Troglia Faletti, interview by author, 1981. 58. Arizona Silver Belt, 3 September 1906. 59. Morreale and Carola, Italian Americans, 136. 60. Amfitheatrof,Children of Columbus, 245–46. 61. Rolle, Troubled Roots, 110–14. Rolle shows how the traditional family faced a difficult adjustment to life in America. 62. Anton Bigando and Lena Vidano Bigando, interview by author, 1981. 63. Gambino, Blood of my Blood, 146. 64. Starr, The Social Transformation of American Medicine. 65. Clyne, Coal People, 54. 66. John Cacceletto interview, 1980, and Faletti interview. A much greater cornucopia of healing plants might have been used in Globe. Ethnobotany was not an area I asked about in interviews. Tomasi, Deep Grow the Roots, 69. 67. Tomasi, Deep Grow the Roots, 69. 68. Dominic Chiono, interview by author, 1982. 69. Anderson and Anderson, Honor the Past, 119. 70. A. Bigando interview. 71. Mary Giacoma Ciochetti, interview by author, 1981.

184 Notes to Pages 86–95 72. Chiono interview. 73. Menjivar, Fragmented Ties, 174. 74. Lawton, “Giuseppe Giacosa and Giacomo Puccini,” 249. 75. Rosano, Wine Heritage. 76. Thomas, Like Lesser Gods. 77. Faletti and Caccaletto interviews. 78. K. Brown, The Italians in Oklahoma. 79. Scarpaci, Italian Immigrants in Louisiana, 131. 80. Diner, Hungry for America. 81. Rabogliatti interview. 82. Anderson and Anderson, Honor the Past, 104. 83. Pola, Who Can Buy the Stars? 84. Several respondents mentioned Enrico Troglia’s music and stories in Globe and Roosevelt Dam, where he also worked. See Malpezzi and Clem- ents, Italian-American Folklore, ch. 8, for a discussion of Italian American storytellers and their demise. Some would argue that blogs now represent a virtual storytelling, but since they lack the aura an expressive person can lend to a tale, it is not really the same in my opinion. 85. Stitt, “Fickle Friends,” 110; Bowling interview. 86. U.S. Bureau of the Census, Fourteenth Census of the United States: 1920. Analy- sis by author of the 1920 U.S. Census, Arizona Manuscript Census, Globe. 87. Lister and Lister, Chinese of Tucson; A. De Leon, Racial Frontiers. Chapter 5. Bisbee 1. Goffman, Behavior in Public Places, 132; Fitzpatrick and La Gory, Unhealthy Places, 116. 2. Burnett, Bisbee High Grade, 10. 3. Fathauer, Lemuel C. Shattuck, 139–40. For a more general description of Bis- bee, see Francaviglia, “Copper Mining and Landscape Evolution”; Schwantes, Bisbee. 4. Bisbee Daily Review, 12 December 1910. 5. Ibid., 14 December 1910; Higham, Strangers in the Land, 90. 6. Bisbee Daily Review, 15 December 1910, p. 1. 7. See Pozzetta, “Foreigners in Florida,” ch. 3, regarding the 1910 lynching in Tampa. 8. Frank Molinar was listed in the 1900 Bisbee census as a miner. By 1910 he was the co-owner of the Depot Saloon with Peter Caretto. Connected to the influential Caretto clan, his bail was paid by Baptiste and John Caretto. Moli- nar’s name was not in the 1911–1912 Arizona State Business Directory—only Peter was listed—but he reappeared in 1913 (Denver, Colo.: 1909–1910, 127; 1911– 1912, 116; 1912–1913, 122). In this respect, he followed a career path typical of other Italians, who often began as laborers and moved on to bar keeping. See Martinelli, “Transformation of an Ethnic Community,” 71–72.

Notes to Pages 95–104 185 9. Reporters had a difficult time deciding on the spelling of the names of Italians involved in this case. I have used those spellings most often found in various publications. Bondema, for example, was also spelled Bonudima and Bonadina. One man identified as an Italian was named Nick Pulaski. This may have been a misspelling, a reflection of Austrian or Slavic nationality of someone culturally Italian, or simply a misidentification. Bisbee Daily Review, 22 December 1910, p. 1; 14 January 1911, p. 2. 10. Bisbee Daily Review, 19 January 1911, p. 2. 11. Salvetti, Corda e sapone, 133; Marinoni v. State, Arizona Reports, vol. 15, November 1913, 94–95. 12. Wentworth, “Vegetation on Limestone and Granite.” 13. Thanks to Otis Young, Jr., for his insightful description of prospecting. O. Young, “The Prospectors.” 14. Leaming, Mining in Bisbee, 13. 15. Bailey, Bisbee, 21. 16. Dunning, Rock to Riches, 103. 17. Bisbee was never completely a company town, although PD did have a tremendous influence on the community. Allen,Company Town, 4. 18. Bailey, Bisbee. 19. Hofsommer, “Making Connections,” 92. 20. Fathauer, Lemuel C. Shattuck, 139–40. 21. “Election for Independence Lodge,” Weekly Orb, 17 July 1898, sec. 4, p. 2; Tom Vaughn, newspaper article, Biography File clipping, Caretto Family, Bisbee Mining and History Museum (BMHM). 22. Constantino Martinelli is not related to me; Martinelli is a fairly common Italian name. However, a number of his papers were given to me. Swit- zerland has an Italian region called Ticino with linguistic and cultural ties to Italy. 23. Cochise County Great Registers; Fathauer, Lemuel C. Shattuck. 24. Bailey, Bisbee, xi; the 1917–1918 directory for Bisbee stated this status in the opening pages. Huginnie, “‘Strikitos,’” 166. 25. Burgess, Bisbee Not So Long Ago, 123. 26. Jane Eppinga notes that Judge Duncan passed the anti-Asian ordinance, which would have been during his decade-long tenure starting in 1880 (Eppinga, “Ethnic Diversity,” 57; Lister and Lister, The Chinese of Early Tucson, 5.. 27. Leaming, Mining in Bisbee, 13. 28. Graeme, “The Copper Queen.” 29. Shelton, Going Back to Bisbee. 30. Coggin, “Roots of the Calumet.” 31. Cited in Ibid.; McKinney, Ned White, 57–58. 32. Nasaw, The Chief. 33. Evans, “Yanquis vs. Yaquis,” 363. 34. Truett, Fugitive Landscapes, 58–59.

186 Notes to Pages 104–111 35. Ibid., 80–81. 36. J. C. Brown, “Foreign and Native-Born Workers.” 37. J. M. Hart, Empire and Revolution, 141; Pamachena, The Border Is Here. 38. Thiel, “The Naco, Arizona, Port of Entry.” 39. Sonnichsen, Colonel Greene, 248. 40. Tucson Citizen, 19 June 1904, p. 3. 41. Buchenau, “Small Numbers, Great Impact,” 35. 42. Gonzales, “U.S. Copper Companies.” 43. Leaming, Mining in Bisbee, 30. 44. Schwantes, “Toil and Trouble”; Tuck, History of Copper Mining. 45. Leaming, Mining in Bisbee, 14. 46. Cochise County Census, 1884, and Cochise County GRV, 1894; U.S. Bureau of the Census, Seventeenth Census of the United States: 1950, 1. U.S. Bureau of the Census, “Country of Birth of Foreign-Born Population,” 224–27. 47. Cochise County GRV, 1896. 48. Copper Queen Mining Payroll Records 1883 (Sept.-Dec.), BMHM. 49. Advertisement, Weekly Orb, 5 May 1898, p. 4. 50. Ibid., July 7, 1898. 51. Norma Del Santo Padovan, interview, BHMM, 1993. Note: her mother’s maiden name is spelled differently at times. 52. U.S. Bureau of the Census, Eleventh Census of the United States: 1900; Bisbee Manuscript Census, microfilm, Arizona State University. See Martinelli, “Italian Immigrant Women.” 53. The following discussion on Trentini is based on the definitive work on this topic by Bolognani, A Courageous People. 54. Both men were naturalized in Cochise County in 1882 and 1890, respectively. “Declarations of Intention to Become a U.S. Citizen,” microfilm 1638403, 1881–1897, Cochise Genealogical Society. 55. Cochise County Census, 1882; Tombstone City Directory, 1883–1884; Cochise County GRV, 1894; Bolognani, A Courageous People; Sturgul, “Italians on the Gogebic Iron Range.” 56. Unfortunately, neither Tyrolian nor Sicilian Bisbeeites was found to interview. 57. McDonald, “History, Economy.” 58. Buchenau, “Small Numbers, Great Impact.” 59. Mexican Census, 1900, published in 1905, Antonio Penafiel, Director General de Estadistica, Ministerio de Fomento, Bancroft Library, University of Califor- nia Berkeley. 60. Reference comes from Linda Gordon’s footnotes in Great Arizona Orphan Abduction, citing Tinker Salas, In the Shadow, 194. 61. Cananea Consolidated Copper Company, Personnel 1902, 12, box 4, Arizona Historical Society, Tucson. 62. Winters, “Three Washtubs of Ore,” 47–48.

Notes to Pages 112–117 187 63. Personal history recorded by Helen Bechetti Dover. See chapter 2 for more details on Mike Verretto’s life. 64. Giuseppe Oddonetto arrived in Bisbee around 1894; “Cochise County Declaration of Intent to Become a Citizen,” microfilm, ASLAPR. 65. Larsen, Urban West, 21–26; Duane Smith, Rocky Mountain Mining Camps, 4–7. 66. Schwantes, Vision and Enterprise, 158. 67. Francaviglia, “Copper Mining and Landscape Evolution,” 276. 68. Census records provide valuable data but are limited to a decade-by- decade view. A limitation of city directories is that national origin is not speci- fied. In using directories, I cross-checked names with other sources, including censuses, Great Registers, and naturalization papers to avoid including names that appear to be Italian but may not actually be Italian. Also, exogamous women and those with changed surnames are missed with this method. Bucks Directory for Bisbee-Warren, Ariz. (El Paso, 1904); F. A. McKinney Directory for Bisbee- Warren District, 1914–1915 (Denver, 1915); F. A. McKinney, 1916–1917 (1917); F. A. McKinney, 1917–1918 (1918); F. A. McKinney, 1913–1924 (1924); F. A. McKin- ney, 1928–1929 (1929). 69. Sanborn Map Company, 1982 Arizona Maps [MICROFORM]: Cities and Towns, 1860–1907. A compilation of Sanborn Co. fire insurance maps. Jim Aira interview, 1980, and Carl Vidano interview, 1984, both in BMHM. 70. Evidence was not found to support claims that Italians could be found in South Bisbee; a planned community developed in 1904. The old-timer who stated Italians and Welsh dominated this area probably overstated their presence. See Francaviglia, “Copper Mining and Landscape Evolution,” 1982. 71. Bailey, Bisbee. 72. Ruterman, Recollections, 35; Jim Vercellino, interview by author, 1987. 73. Vercellino interview. 74. Rios-Bustamante, “‘As Guilty as Hell’”; Huginnie, “‘Strikitos,’” 222. 75. Dickinson, A Sociological Survey, 6. Several oral histories mention Italian men playing in bands, including those histories of Jim Vercellino and Grace Berlindis (Mrs. Ferguson), 1993; Celestino Lombardini, 1980; Norma Del Santo (Mrs. Padovan), BMHM, Bisbee Daily Review, 28 December 1914, sec. 5, p. 3). Mary Rolle remembered Charles Rolle playing the French horn in the band. Interview by Kay Savage for the author, 1983. 76. M. N. Hart, “Bisbee’s Serbs”; Eppinga, “Ethnic Diversity.” 77. Foerster, Italian Emigration. 78. Cooperation between central Slavs and Italians occurred before in much- publicized labor struggles in Pennsylvania’s coal mine camps; see, for example, Beik, Miners of Windber, 19. 79. Weekly Orb, 14 October 1898, p. 4. 80. Huginnie, “‘Strikitos,’” 225. 81. Eppinga, “Ethnic Diversity,” 54.

188 Notes to Pages 117–121 82. Dickie, Darkest Italy. Although the southerners bore the onus of racism in Italy, northern Italians would have been familiar with the irrational but powerful Italian notions of race and perhaps seen the irony when it was applied to them in the United States. 83. Higham, Strangers in the Land; Scarpaci, Italian Immigrants in Louisiana. 84. Gabaccia and Ottanelli, ed., Italian Workers, 2. 85. Baily, Immigrants in the Lands of Promise. 86. L. Gordon, Great Arizona Orphan Abduction, 53–54. 87. Mae Parra (Mrs. Puzzie), interview by BMHM, 1994. 88. Burgess, Bisbee Not So Long Ago, 153–55. 89. L. Gordon, Great Arizona Orphan Abduction. 90. Sobin, St. Patrick’s. 91. McKinney Directories, Bisbee-Warren District, 1916-1917. 92. Sobin, St. Patrick’s, 4. 93. Perkins, “Educational Work of the Sisters of St. Joseph,” 99–100; Owens, Loretto on the Old Frontier, 150. 94. Ruterman, Recollections, 22. 95. Melcher, “‘This Is Not Right.’” 96. Ruterman, Recollections, 49; Jim Vercellino and Parra interviews. 97. Examples can be found of Mexicans and Italians not being compatible in, for example, Worrall, “Hispanics and Italians in the Southwest.” Also, relationships between Mexicans and Italians changed over time in some locations; Parra interview. 98. Celestino Lombardini, interview by BMHM, 1980. 99. Aira interview. 100. Mamie Bugen interview by BMHM, 1991, cited in Katherine Benton, “What About Women,” 19. 101. Bisbee City Directory, 1924. One of the founders lived in Brewery Gulch, while the other lived on Naco Road. 102. Celestino Lombardini married a Mexican woman, as did Anthony Per- otti and Mr. Puzzie; interviews, both in 1994, BMHM. In 1909, Fannie Bulotti married Frank Abril, possibly Spanish or Mexican. Cochise Marriage Records, 1988–1910, microfilm, ASLAPR. 103. Urciuoli, Exposing Prejudice. 104. As we’ve seen, Italian migration to these areas did occur, even though it is overlooked. For example, on Italians in nearby Mexico, see Buchenau, “Small Numbers, Great Impact,” and Valentine J. Belfiglio,The Italian Experience, 43–49. 105. Aira interview; Jim Vercellino interview; Vidano interview. For Chinese Spanish use see, for example, Fong, “Sojourners and Settlers,” 1–30. Early Jew- ish merchants are discussed in Hood, “New Mexico and Arizona.” 106. While the local press occasionally mentioned the need for Spanish to be taught as a “commercial necessity,” Spanish speakers were marginalized. Bisbee Daily Review, 15 December 1910, 4:10; the Bisbee library carried twenty-six daily

Notes to Pages 121–126 189 newspapers including the Italian language Il Progresso Italo-Americano;Dickinson, A Sociological Survey, 3; Gumina, Italians of San Francisco, 21–22. 107. Rosales, ¡Pobre Raza!, 169. 108. C. E. Willson, Mimes and Miners, 169. Traveling troupes toured South- ern Arizona with Bisbee as a major stop. “Mexico Bests,” Bisbee Daily Review, 7 January 1911, 5:3. 109. “Cave In,” Arizona Daily Citizen, 2 November 1888; Phoenix Daily Her- ald, 3 November 1888; for Mexicans, see Huginnie, “‘Strikitos,’” and Vaughn, “Everyday Life in a Copper Camp,” 57–83. 110. Bisbee Daily Review, 27 May 1903, quoted by M. N. Hart in “Bisbee’s Serbs”; Eppinga, “Ethnic Diversity”; Vecoli, “Italian American Workers.” 111. Gonzales, “U.S. Copper Companies,” 503–34; Torres, “The Mexican Miner.” 112. U.S. Immigration Commission, Immigrant Labor in Mining. 113. U.S. Bureau of the Census, Eleventh Census of the United States: 1900. Ari- zona, Bisbee. 114. Schwantes, Bisbee, 117. 115. Bailey, Bisbee, 111. 116. Gabaccia and Ottanelli, Italian Workers, 3. 117. Huginnie, “‘Strikitos.’” 118. Eric Clements, “Bust and Bust in the Mining West,” 42. 119. Leaming, Mining in Bisbee, 15. 120. Mellinger, Race and Labor, 83–84; McBride, “Gaining a Foothold”; Leam- ing, Mining in Bisbee, 98. 121. Mellinger, Race and Labor; Taft, “The Bisbee Deportation.” 122. William Burman, “History of the Bisbee Deportation by an Officer of the Loyalty League,” p. 8, undated manuscript, ASLAPR. 123. Ibid. 124. A. K. Powell, Next Time We Strike, 110. 125. IWW Correspondence on Arizona in exhibits box 2, Simmons vs El Paso & Southwestern Rail Road Company, Special Collections, University of Arizona. 126. O’Neill, “Domesticity Deployed.” 127. Schwantes, Toil and Trouble, 1992; President’s Mediation Hearing, Bis- bee Deportation Hearings, Cochise County Court Records, U.S. Commission, 1 November, 1917; M. N. Hart, “Bisbee’s Serbs.” 128. President’s Mediation Hearing. For example, only three of the men deported from the Shattuck mine were Italians (p. 283); Jim Vercellino interview; John Vercellino interview, 1980, BMHM; Watson “Still on Strike!” 129. Oliver Transue, “Bisbee Deportation Case in Arizona,” 1969, 25, Ray Davis Collection, Arizona Historical Society, Tucson. 130. Oldman, “Phelps Dodge.” 131. Governor Hunt to Mulford Windsor, 24 July 1917, Special Subjects, Governor Hunt, 1909–1933, ASLAPR.

190 Notes to Pages 126–131 132. President’s Mediation Hearing, p. 372; M. N. Hart, “Bisbee’s Serbs”; McKinney Directories, Bisbee 1916, 1918; Fred Watson, “Still on Strike!” 180. 133. McKinney Directories, Bisbee 1916, 1918. 134. Parra and Vercellino interviews, BMHM; Dick Peila, interview by Helen Dover for author, 1984, BMHM. Chapter 6. The Latin Camp 1. Rickard, “The Copper Ores of Ajo, Arizona.” 2. Lindgren and Hillebrand, “Minerals from the Clifton-Morenci District.” 3. Barnes and Granger, Arizona Place Names, 163. 4. Park, “Mexican Affair.” 5. Conger, “History of the Clifton-Morenci District,” 99. 6. Eppinga, “Stories of a Great Pioneer Family.” 7. Hinton, Arizona Mines, 14. 8. Myrick, Railroads of Arizona, 29. 9. Colquhoun, “History of Clifton-Morenci.” 10. Myrick, Railroads of Arizona, 3: 29. 11. Watt, “History of Morenci,” 80. 12. Barr, A History of the Arizona Copper Co., 25. 13. Wagoner, Arizona’s Heritage. 14. Robinson, “A History of the Clifton-Morenci District.” 15. Myrick, Railroads of Arizona, 80; Barr, A History of the Arizona Copper Co., 6. 16. Cogut and Conger, History of Arizona’s Clifton-Morenci, 39, 47–49, 213–14. 17. Myrick, Railroads of Arizona, vol. 3. 18. Barr, A History of the Arizona Copper Co., 6, 11. 19. Duane Smith, Rocky Mountain Mining Camps, 27. 20. “Biographical Sketch of Judge Charles L. Bennett,” 13 March 1912, p. 21, Manuscript Collection, Arizona Historical Society, Tucson. 21. Park, “Mexican Affair,” 128. 22. John Boutwell, quoted in Watt, “History of Morenci,” 136. 23. Arizona Silver Belt, 25 January 1896, 1:5. Other accounts suggest that Chi- nese left mining in the area by the end of the 1880s. 24. Barr, History of Detroit Copper, 25; Zindel, “Landscape Evolution,” 126. 25. Myrick, Railroads of Arizona, vol. 3. 26. F. Remington Barr, History Detroit Copper, 27. 27. Graham County GRV, 1902. 28. The defiance did not seem to hurt Nardelli, who proceeded to open a saloon in a prime location on Chase Creek, Clifton’s main business district. Fur- thermore, he later got contracts to work on building roads. The Spezia brothers, Antonio and Ambrose, also went on to become prominent in Clifton, with a legacy of businesses starting with bars, a lumberyard, commercial buildings, a farm, and an early car dealership.

Notes to Pages 132–138 191 29. Maximo Gavito to Governor McCord, 4 June 1898, Governor McCord files, ASLAPR. 30. H. D. Kappler, Constable Precinct No. 11, to Governor McCord, 8 June 1898, Governor McCord files, ASLAPR. 31. Jones, Autobiography of Mother Jones, 113; Deutsch, No Separate Refuge. 32. Calderon, Mexican Coal Mining, 150. 33. Joseph Park, cited in Barrera, Race and Class, 84. 34. Robert Murray, “Igualdad de Oportunidad de Empleo es la Ley (The Law Guarantees Equal Opportunity in Employment Discrimination Against Mexican Americans in Arizona),” n.d., p. 12, Ray Davis Collection, Arizona Historical Society, Tucson. 35. Copper Era, 5 March 1903, p. 2. 36. H. Kane “Arizona Labor Conditions,” Miners’ Magazine (21 February 1907): 8, reprinted in Southwest Economy and Society 5 (Fall 1979, Winter 1979– 1980): 120. 37. Wyman, Hard Rock Epic, 267. 38. Mellinger, Race and Labor, 24, 56. Here Mellinger contradicts the idea that the 1903 strike was a precursor to the Mexican revolution. 39. Weekly AZ Miner, 12 June 1885. 40. L. Gordon, Great Arizona Orphan Abduction, 102, 214. 41. Records of the Detroit Copper Company, May–June 1902, Concen- tration Time Book, microfilm, Special Collections, University of Arizona Library. 42. Ibid. 43. Mellinger, Race and Labor, 42. 44. Huginnie, “‘Strikitos,’” 166. 45. Linda Gordon lists Italians Modesti, Peluci, Massoletti and Baroldi as Alianza officers (Great Arizona Orphan Abduction, 226). Two Pelucis (also spelled Peluce) worked for Detroit Copper Company in 1902 on the Arizona Central Train. Records of the Detroit Copper Company, May–June 1902, Concentra- tion Time Book.” 46. Carmela Marietti Suarez and Giovanna “Lee” Marietti, conversation and correspondence with author, 1983. Their father was from Rivara in the Canavese area, and their mother, Virginia Montoya, was a Spanish Basque. William Enrico noted that the second generation spoke Italian, Spanish, and English; interview by author, 2000. Numerous oral histories further support this point. 47. U.S. Bureau of the Census, Thirteenth Census of the United States: 1910, Man- uscript Census, 1910. 48. Mellinger, Race and Labor, 46–47. 49. Watt, “History of Morenci,” 59. 50. Copper Era, 18 June 1903, p. 1–2. 51. Copper Era, 17 June 1903, p. 2.

192 Notes to Pages 138–143 52. Ibid. 53. Both men’s names are misspelled in other accounts of the strike. Gaetano is a first name, not a surname, so Periano Gaetano is incorrect. Purpi (also spelled Porpi) was cross-checked for accuracy. 54. Graham County GRV, 1902. 55. Ibid.; DDC time books, Records of the Detroit Copper Company, 1882–1919, microfilm, Special Collections Department, University of Arizona Library. The surname Purpi is found in twenty-six comuni in Italy, with a concentration near Palermo, Sicily, according to the research engine GENS Italia, www.gens.labo.net/it/. 56. Jerome Miners News, 15 June 1903, p. 1. 57. L. Gordon, Great Arizona Orphan Abduction, 242. 58. Arizona Business Directory, 1905–1906 (Denver, Colo.: Gazetteer Publish- ing, 1905), 143–53, 279–83. 59. Clifton Era, 13 September 1906, 2; Joseph R Granieri, interview by author, 1980. Granieri still lives in Phoenix, and is 104 years old as of 2008. 60. Hatch, Dahood, and Fernandez, “Clifton.” 61. Polk’s Arizona Pictorial Gazetteer and Business Directory, 1912, Greenlee County, Ariz., Archives History-Business, Clifton. 62. Shortridge, Childhood Memories, 23. 63. Amelia Ochoa, interview by author, 2000. 64. Huginnie, “‘Strikitos,’” 226. 65. Sandborn Map Company, Morenci, 1904, 190. 66. Sister Mary Roquetta (Zappia), interview by author, 1982; and information from Monica Zappia Young, 2001. 67. Juliani, Building Little Italy, 301–2. There were some former “slave children” in Arizona. 68. K. Brown, The Italians in Oklahoma, 14. 69. Roquetta (Zappia) interview. 70. Abramson, Ethnic Diversity in Catholic America, 175. 71. McKevitt, “Italian Jesuits in New Mexico.” 72. McKevitt, Brokers of Culture. 73. Birnbaum, Black Madonnas; Sella, Sapere la Strada, 13–28. 74. Di Stasi, Mal Occhio, 15. 75. Ibid., 47–48; Maloney, The Evil Eye. 76. Evidence of beliefs was found for Clifton and Morenci but not Globe. Two Mexican American women discussed the witches of Morenci and how their spells affected people. Anonymous, interviews by author, 2000. 77. Redl, The Work of De Grazia, 16. 78. U.S. Bureau of the Census, Thirteenth Census of the United States: 1910. 79. Ibid.; Irene Zappia, interview by author, 2000. 80. Amelia Ochoa Onate, interview by author, 2000. 81. Spezia, Tour of Chase Creek, 6.

Notes to Pages 143–149 193 82. Sanborn Maps, May 1904, no. 6, Clifton, Ariz., microfilm, Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley. 83. Cogut and Conger, History of Arizona’s Clifton-Morenci, 175. 84. Patton, “A History of Clifton,” 48. 85. U.S. Bureau of the Census, Thirteenth Census of the United States: 1910. 86. Petra Mendoza Vasquez and Victor Vasquez, correspondence and conversations with author, 2000. 87. Granieri interview. 88. Ibid.; William Enrico, interview by author, 2000. 89. Henrich, “Copper Ore-Deposits,” 69. 90. Kane, “Arizona Labor Conditions.” 91. Myrick, Railroads of Arizona, 80. 92. Mellinger, Race and Labor, 70. 93. U.S. Immigration Commission, Japanese and Other Immigrant Races, 130–32. 94. Clifton, Arizona Town Council Minutes, 12 June 1909–9 October 1914 (9 April 1912), p. 145, Clifton Public Library Holdings. 95. Tucson Citizen, 4 December 1914, p. 1; J. Morris Richards, History of the Arizona State Legislature 1912–1960, microfiche 2, vol. 3, ch. 1–8, Arizona State University. 96. McBride, “The Liga Protectora Latina.” 97. Outlook 109 (20 January 1915): 109–10, cited by Byrkit, “Life and Labor.” 98. The test case was a Bisbee case: Traux vs. Raich, no. 361, United States Reports, vol. 239 (New York: Banks Law Publishing, 1916). 99. Kluger, Clifton-Morenci Strike. 100. Chapman, ed. Mineral Industries of Arizona, 12. 101. Watt, “History of Morenci,” 62; Mining Journal, 26 August 1915. 102. Barr, A History of the Arizona Copper Co., 67. 103. Frank Murray Collection, American Federation of Labor, Weekly Newsletter, Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley. 104. Journals of the Second Legislature of the State of Arizona, Regular Session, vol. 2, no. 1 (Phoenix, Ariz.: McNeil Company, 1915): 15–16. 105. Amster to Hunt, 7 January, and Hunt to Amster, 16 January, 1915, Governor Hunt correspondence files, Arizona State Archives. 106. “I centri minerani”; document and translation courtesy of Russell Magnaghi. 107. Douglas Daily International, 3 November 1915, 6 November 1915, p. 9; Crawford, “Bertram Goodhue.” 108. U.S. Bureau of the Census, Thirteenth Census of the United States: 1910. 109. Don Chiapetti and Louise Chiapetti Rice, correspondence and interviews; Giuseppe Spina was naturalized in Graham County in 1892. 110. Granieri interview. 111. Douglas Daily International, 3 November 1915. 112. Kluger, Clifton-Morenci Strike, 46.

194 Notes to Pages 149–159 113. Wilson, “Governor Hunt.” 114. Sister Roqueta Zappia, Zappia Family History, manuscript courtesy of Monica Zappia Young. Zappia’s bakery may be the one mentioned by Kluger, Clifton-Morenci Strike, 41. In 1947, Zappia was honored for working thirty-five consecutive years as a baker, the longest career at that time in Arizona. The stone building he erected as a flour warehouse still stands on Chase Creek. 115. “Agreement in Regard to Industrial Conditions in the Clifton-Morenci- Metcalf District,” 1916, manuscript, Arizona Historical Society, Tucson. 116. Kluger, Clifton-Morenci Strike, 79, 84. 117. Davies and Meyers to Governor Hunt, 10 February 1916, ADLAPR. 118. New Republic, 22 January 1916, p. 1. 119. Kluger, Clifton-Morenci Strike, 74–75. 120. Byrkit, “Life and Labor,” 130. He mentions journalist John A. Fitch, who made this comparison. 121. Watt, “History of Morenci,” 73. 122. Willoughby, “Employers’ Associations.” 123. Carmichael, “Some Factors,” 6. 124. Mellinger, Race and Labor, 195. 125. Carmichael, Some Factors, 8–11. 126. Davies, “Towards a Theory of Revolution.” 127. American Federation of Labor Weekly Newsletter, 3 June 1916, Frank Murray Collection, Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley. 128. Parrish, Mexican Workers, Progressives, 12–13. 129. Huginnie, “‘Strikitos,’” 150–51. 130. Copper Era, 1 September 1916. Cogut and Conger, History of Arizona’s Clifton-Morenci, 127, note a speech by Merna Robison, where she claimed the cause of the 1915 strike “was worked up by a few agitators with some connection with the enemy in Europe.” 131. Watt, “History of Morenci,” 73–77. 132. Vargas, “A Short History of the Organized Labor Movement in the Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf District, Arizona,” Pan American Labor Press, 16 Octo- ber 1918, p. 1; see Mellinger, Race and Labor, 197, for more on the union careers of Canuto Vargas, Pascual Vargas, and other Mexican leaders of these strikes in the district. 133. Parrish, Mexican Workers, Progressives, 14. 134. Pan American Labor Press, 4 December 1918, p. 7. 135. Jeanette Monsegur Frick, interview by author, 2000. Chapter 7. Conclusion 1. Bixio and Cherubini, “Il Tango delle capinere.” 2. David Nicandri, Italians in Washington State, 25. 3. Gila County Probate Records, microfilm, ASLAPR. 4. Lucy Quarelli Hansen, interview by author, 1981.

Notes to Pages 159–166 195 5. “I centri minerani,” 49–53. 6. Rolle, Immigrant Upraised, 350. Calculations are mine. 7. See chapter 3 for a thorough discussion of this study based on information on over five hundred men from Arizona’s Great Registers; Martinelli, “Lag- giu Nell’Arizona.” 8. See “No Spanish on the Playground,” in Bjorkquist, Suffer Smoke, 63–76. 9. Whyte, Street Corner Society. Thomas Noel found that Denverites gave Ital- ians a hostile reception at first because of the arrival of many very poor immigrants who were considered thieves, members of violent societies, and too free with alcohol. The City and the Saloon, 60–62. 10. Mountain Bell, Globe-Miami-Superior Telephone Directory (Tucson, Ariz.: Mountain Bell, 1980). 11. U.S. Bureau of the Census, “Annual Estimates of the Population for All Incorporated Places in Arizona.” 12. Ibid. 13. Sherif, “Superordinate goals.” The classic experiment that he and Caro- line Sherif conducted is known as the Robbers’ Cave Experiment. In that experiment, groups of boys were encouraged to dislike each other. They were then given a shared goal that would benefit all boys. The groups worked together, and animosity declined. 14. Byrkit, “Life and Labor”; Rosenblum, Copper Crucible. 15. Bonilla-Silva and Glover, “‘We Are All Americans.’”

196 Notes to Pages 166–170 Bibliography

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Index

Abello, Simone (Simon Abell), 23, 43–44, 93 deportation, 130–32; development of, 105– African Americans. See blacks 8; Italians in, 8, 44, 45, 88, 102–4, 113–16, Aira, Constantino (John), 44–45, 125 118–20, 168–69, 188n70; labor activism in, Ajo, 17, 28, 133 70–71, 129–31; race in, 28, 108–10, 121–27; Alianza Hispano Americana, 36, 142 schools in, 124–25; wages, 52, 127–28 American Federation of Labor, 71, 156, 161 blacks, 4, 19, 23, 42, 56–58, 76, 77, 173n26; American Protective Association, 64 in Bisbee, 28, 108, 122, 124–25 anarchists, 50, 69–70, 72 boarding houses, 94–95, 150, 151 Anglo Americans. See whites Bondema, Antonio, 104, 186n9 Apaches, 23, 28, 42, 76, 83, 135, 167 Brewery Gulch, 28, 45, 103, 118–19 Argentina, 43, 47, 123 British, 48, 63, 117, 131, 145 Arizona: legislation in, 153–55; lynchings, 74, Brophy, William, 124 76; mineral resources, 15–17; World War I, businesses, 89, 90, 92–93, 115. See also by type 155–56. See also various towns Butte, 7, 82, 84 Arizona Copper Company (ACC), 19, 49, 136, 140 Calabria, 5, 39, 46; Italians from, 151, Arizona Prospecting Company, 107–8 152(fig.), 158 Arizona State Federation of Labor (ASFL), California, 5, 35–36, 58, 61–62, 77, 96, 166, 84, 85, 163 170 Austria, 121, 131 Calumet & Arizona Mining Company, 28, Austrians, 7, 23, 42, 113 106, 109, 130 Cananea, 84–85, 112–13, 117 bakeries, 93, 125, 159, 195n114 Canavese (Italy), 88, 116, 167 Banche (Bauche), Dominico, 73, 80 Caretto, Baptiste, 106(fig.), 107, 118, 120 bands, 98, 99(fig.), 120, 152 Caretto, John, 45, 120 Barrano, Cesteano, 143 Caretto, John (A. B.), 93, 95, 120 Bechetti, Giuseppi and Ermalinda, 29 Caretto family, 45, 87, 91, 114 Beluzzi family, 79 Carmichael, Norman, 161–62 Bertaglio, Dominico, 40 Carrasco, Francisco, 135 Bertino family, 84–85, 100 Cash, James, 159, 160 Bigando family, 79–80, 93, 94–95 Catholicism, 50, 63, 90–91, 121, 123–24, Bisbee, 6, 7, 14, 19, 21, 26, 27, 46, 49, 60, 146–47 61, 67, 76, 186n17; Catholics in, 123–24; Chase Creek, 2, 143, 149, 169 Chiapetti, Pasquale, 46–47, 158 deportations: Bisbee, 70–71, 130–32 Chihuahua Hill, 26, 118, 163–64 Detroit Copper Company (DCC), 134, 136, Chinese, 19, 21, 23, 27, 60, 77, 101, 117, 151, 140, 141–42 155, 180n22; in Bisbee, 108, 109; in Clif- Díaz, Porfirio, 111, 112–13, 117 ton-Morenci 136–37, 144–45; in Globe, 79, Dillingham Commission, 12, 52, 62–63 86; and railroads, 22, 58–59 Dinkeyville (Utah), 7, 87 Chiono family, 91, 94 discrimination, 4, 14, 50, 58, 59, 121; legis- churches, 121, 123–24, 146, 169 lated, 57, 60, 153–55. See also wages Clark, William Andrews, 59, 83 Douglas, 111, 112, 129 Clavigero, Francisco, 33–34 Douglas, James S., 106, 111, 136 Clifton, 1, 2, 6, 10, 14, 19, 49, 69, 143, 193n76; Duncan, 159 businesses in, 144–45, 191–92n28; historic Dunn, Jack, 105 district, 169–70; Mexicans in, 61, 62, 135, 136, 137; neighborhoods in, 149–50; social 80 Percent Law, 155, 157 structure, 28–29, 145–46; wages, 52, 83 entertainment, 98–100, 152–53 Clifton-Morenci-Metcalf District, 85, 128, EuroLatins, 53, 63, 83, 120, 132 133, 177n44; Chinese in, 59–60; devel- Europeans, 4, 9, 21, 28, 51, 63, 179n77; in opment of, 134–37; Italians in, 8, 42, 45, Mexico, 112–13. See also by group, nationality 46–47; jobs in, 154–55; Latins in, 169–70; as Mexican camp, 6–7; strikes in, 139–44, families: Italian, 92, 93–94, 114–15; miners,’ 156–63, 195n130 28–30 coal mining, 44–45, 48, 71–72, 76, 116, 139, Fernandez, Rafael, 150–51 188n78 Foran Act, 23 Colombo, Frank, 143, 144 fraternal organizations, 1, 36, 90, 107, 142– Colorado, 40, 48, 65, 71, 74, 116, 139 43, 152 Colorado Coal and Iron Company, 116 freighters: Mexican, 135 Colquhoun, James, 19 French, 7, 48, 63, 117 company towns, 26, 27–28. See also by name Freudenthal, Julius, 45, 134 copper camps, 6–7, 14, 17–18. See also by name copper industry, 16–19, 30, 155–56 Garbarino, Giuseppe Enrico, 35 Copper Mountain District. See Clifton-Mor- Gasparri, Donato, 147 enci-Metcalf District Gatti, John, 144 Copper Queen Consolidated Mining Com- gender roles: Italian, 92–95 pany, 46, 106 Germans, 7, 19, 23, 42, 63, 116, 117 Copper Queen Mine (Bisbee), 45, 105, 106, Giacoma brothers, 117–18 114, 130, 132 Gila City, 25, 26, 36 Cornishmen, 7, 18, 61, 84, 109–10, 129 Globe, 6, 14, 16, 19, 22, 49, 58, 70, 80, 163; Cosenza (Italy), 46, 151, 158 Italians in 8, 23, 43–44, 73, 87–88, 89–101, Crawford, Cordelia Adams, 73 121, 166, 167–68; mines in, 45, 79, 82–83; crime(s), 103–4; organized, 68–69. See also 1917 strike in, 85–86; and Roosevelt Dam, murders; violence 23, 42; unions in, 83–84 Cubans, 47, 63 Globe Miners Union No. 60, 83, 84 Cuneo, Giuseppe, 74–75 gold strikes, 36, 61, 116 Gonzales family, 150 dams: construction of, 22–24 Granieri family, 151, 152(fig.), 154(fig.), Day of the Shots, 48 158–59 DeGrazia, Ettore “Ted,” 148, 149(fig.) Greeks, 5, 7, 19, 50, 63, 87 DeGrazia family, 149(fig.), 158 Greene, William Cornell, 112, 113 Del Santo, Julia and Roberto, 115 grocery stores, 44, 90, 92–93, 121, 122(fig.)

222 index Hayden, 27–28 labor, 21, 23, 24, 41, 129; Chinese, 59–60; health, 82, 94, 119, 183n18 immigrant, 4–6, 19; mine, 127–28; racial Hearst, William Randolph, 111 structure of, 52, 69; railroad, 22, 58–59, 136 holidays, 145–46, 152, 153 labor activism, 1–2, 6, 70–72, 132, 139; in Hong, Charlie, 59 Bisbee, 128–31. See also unions housing, 24, 27–28, 150–51 labor brokers, 42, 46 Huelva, 48 language, 91, 122, 126, 148–49, 171n5, 189n106 Hunt, George W. P., 84, 131, 156–57, 159, 160 Las Animas (CO), 48, 76 Latinos, 4, 13, 19, 24; lynchings of, 76, 77, identity, 8, 14, 116; community and, 25–26, 108, 182n82 89; Latin, 126–27; Serbian, 120–21 Latins, 13, 51, 100, 120, 163; in Clifton-Mor- immigrants, 1, 19, 41, 155; alliances, 7–8; atti- enci, 136, 137, 146–48, 149–53, 169–70; tudes toward, 50–51, 156–57; Chinese, identity as, 14, 63, 126–27 58–60; European, 9, 178n61; in Globe, Lausteunau, Weneslado, 2, 143 79–80, 81; Italian, 5–6, 13–14, 34–35, Lesinsky brothers, 45, 134, 136 37–38, 123; Mexican, 21, 23, 60–62; in Lewisohn family, 45–46, 82 Mexico, 112–13 Liguria, 5, 8, 35 Industrial Workers of the World (IWW), 13, Lombardy: Italians from, 46, 151 83, 85, 129, 131, 161, 163, 168–69; and Bis- Longfellow Copper Mine, 45, 47, 134, 136 bee deportation, 70–71, 130 Ludlow, 7–8, 161 International Union of Mine, Mill, and lynchings, 74, 76, 77, 108, 182n82 Smelter Workers, 129, 131, 163 Irish, 7, 23, 42, 76, 117, 146, 147 Maffeo family, 115, 117 Irish Mag, 106, 109 mafia, 68–69 Italians, 5–6, 7, 12, 26, 29, 40, 52, 63, 65, Magnon, Ricardo Flores, 70 85, 117, 145, 146, 155, 165–66, 170, 171n5, Maricopa County Immigration Union, 42 172–73n22, 188n78; in Arizona, 8, 19, Marinoni, Baptista, 104 32–33, 42, 172n15, 177n44; in Bisbee, marriages, 29, 60, 192n46; Italian-Mexican, 44–45, 103, 113–16, 118–21, 125–26, 131, 125–26, 189n102 132, 168–69, 188n70; in Clifton-Mor- Martinelli, Constantino “Joe,” 107–8, 186n22 enci, 1, 2, 46–47, 133, 137, 138, 141–44, massacres: Ludlow, 7–8; Huelva, 48 149–50, 157–58, 163–64; gender roles, Mendoza, Sostenes, 150 92–95; in Globe, 43–44, 79–81, 83, 84, merchants, 36, 59, 60, 121, 149, 179n89 87–88, 89–101, 167–68; and labor agita- Metcalf, 2, 46, 133, 145, 150, 162, 169 tion, 70–72, 139, 140; lynchings of, 74, 75, Metcalf brothers, 45, 134 76, 102, 104; migration patterns of, 13–14, Mexican Americans, 11, 60, 61–62, 135, 169 34–35, 37–42; in Morenci, 28, 138, 151– Mexican Revolution, 70, 102, 129 52; racism and, 50, 51, 189n82; Roosevelt Mexicans, 4, 6–7, 12, 13, 18, 19, 26, 36, 42, Dam, 23, 24; stereotypes of, 67–69, 126– 49, 55, 60, 63, 70, 74, 84, 87, 101, 162; in 27, 196n9 Bisbee, 110, 120, 122, 125–26, 131, 132, Italy, 34, 37, 42, 70, 88 150; Catholicism, 146–47; in Clifton- Morenci, 1, 2, 29, 45, 69, 133, 135, 136, Japanese, 7, 21, 23, 86, 87, 155 137, 138–39, 144–46, 149, 157–58, 169; Jerome, 42, 49, 59 in Globe, 90, 91, 100; immigrants, 21, 23; Jews, 45–46, 137 labor activism, 61–62, 113, 162–63; lynchings of, 76, 108; in Ray, 27–28; in social King of Arizona (Kofa) mine, 61 structure, 145–46; wages, 52, 82–83, 153 Kinney, Alfred, 154, 155 Mexico, 72, 129; border, 110–11; migrants in, Ku Klux Klan, 63, 125 112–13, 117, 118

Index 223 Miami (AZ), 19, 22, 163 Perojo, Aurelio, 151 migration, 51, 88, 178n61; of blacks, 56–57; Phelps Dodge (PD) Company, 43, 111–12; in chain, 5, 36; of Italians, 13–14, 34–35, Bisbee, 106–7, 186n17; in Clifton-Morenci, 37–38, 123; restrictions on, 59, 63; of Span- 27, 136, 137, 138, 151, 169 iards, 47–48 Phoenix, 22, 36 Miners and Merchants Bank, 108 Piemonte, 5, 116, 147; migrants, 43–44, 45, mining, 4, 13; accidents, 30, 81; conditions, 46, 79, 87, 88, 91, 167–68 82–83; deaths from, 84, 85; Italians in, Pistonetti, Victor, 120 35–36, 40, 41; job discrimination, 57–58, Poles, 80, 139 127–28, 153–55; silver, 78–79. See also cop- Portuguese, 5, 63 per industry Prescott, 22, 36, 42, 59 mining camps/districts, 8, 16, 19–21, 24, 25; priests: Italian, 32–33 racial structure of, 6–7. See also by name Purcella, Francisco (Frank), 35–36 mining companies: company towns and, Purpi, Joe, 144 26–27; paternalism of, 28–29; racialization by, 27–28 Quarelli family, 80, 166 Miranda, Romolo, 146 Missouri, 44–45, 46, 154 race, 2, 7, 52; in Bisbee, 108–10, 121–23, 168; Montana, 40, 74 in-between categories of, 12–13, 39, 61–62, Montenegro: immigrants from, 113, 121 63, 172–73n22; microsystems, 166–67; as Montezuma mine, 142, 144 social construct, 3–4; and status, 5–6 Morello family, 89–90, 93, 98, 99(fig.) racialization, 4, 12, 31, 39, 57, 120, 140; wage, Morenci, 19, 28, 49, 134, 138, 145, 146, 170, 52, 127–28 193n76; as company town, 27, 28; Italians racism, 50, 51, 55–56, 66–67, 121–22, 189n82 in, 39, 67–68, 80, 88, 89, 148, 149(fig.); Lat- railroads, 21–22, 112, 117; Bisbee, 106–7; ins in, 137, 150–53; race in, 6, 133; strikes Clifton-Morenci, 136, 138; labor for, 58–59 in, 139–44, 157–61, 163, 169 Ravaglia, Pete, 104 murders, 72–73, 74, 75, 103, 108, 162 Ravena, Michael, 36 mutual aid societies, 121, 142 Ray, 27, 48–49, 84, 140 Ray Consolidated Copper Company (Ray Naco, 112, 129 Copper Mines, Ltd.), 27, 48 Nacozari, 111, 112 religion: Latins and, 146–48 Nardelli, Tim, 138, 191n28 restaurants, 59, 86 Native Americans, 4, 26, 28, 56, 77 Revello, Domenico (Dominick), 80, 93 nativism, 50, 51, 64, 68, 75(table), 153 Rich Hill, 54–55 Nevada: Italians in, 5, 40 Richmond Basin, 79 New Mexico, 40, 74 Riley, Edward, 105 newspapers, 126–27 Rio Tinto Company, 48 Nigro, Pasquale, 44, 73, 166 Roosevelt Dam: construction of, 22–24, 42, 43, 66, 73–74, 116 Oddonetto, John, 118 Old Dominion mine, 43, 45–46, 79, 81, Salé: migrants from, 87, 88, 168 82–83, 163 Salerni, Francisco (Frank), 1, 2, 144, 159, 171n3 Palicio, Fermin, 49 saloon keeping, 44, 191–92n28; in Bisbee, Panamá (Globe), 87–88, 98, 99(fig.) 107, 114; in Globe, 73, 85, 90, 98, 99(fig.); Pariani, Gaetano, 46, 144 by Italians, 89, 149, 185n8 paternalism, 28–29, 108 San Francisco Mining Company, 45, 134 Perazzo, Carlo, 29, 35, 36 San Pedro, 27–28

224 index schools: in Bisbee, 124–25 Troglio, Rico, 99–100 Scots, 48, 145 Tubac, 28, 36 segregation: of blacks, 57, 58; of Catholic Tucson, 36, 44, 60, 61, 62, 101, 124 churches, 123–24; in mining towns, 27–28, Tyrol: immigrants from, 115–16 120 Serbs, 7, 100, 120–21 unions, 1–2, 70–71, 128–32, 156; Globe, Shannon Mining Company, 134, 157 83–84, 167; Italians and, 85, 128, 141; Shattuck, Lemuel, 107, 108 strikes, 139–44; working conditions and, Shattuck Arizona Mining Company, 107, 82–83 190n128 United Mine Workers of America, 71, 139 Sicily, 5, 68, 116 Utah: coal strikes, 71, 72 silver mining, 78–79 Sirianni, Salvatore, 46 Vargas, Canuto, 156, 163 Slag Town, 138 vendettas, 68, 181n49 Slaughter, Arthur J., 163 Verretto family, 40–41, 117 Slavs, 7, 19, 80, 84, 127, 188n78; in Bisbee, Vezzetti, Carlo, 86 120–21 violence, 14, 102–3; micro, 64–72; racially smelters, 18, 111–12, 136 motivated, 72–77, 196n9 social structure, 30, 39; mining towns, 24, Vozza family, 46, 158 27–29, 108–10, 121–27, 145–46; race, 3, 5–6, 7, 14 wages, 6, 52, 82–83, 85, 153, 163; Bisbee, Sonora, 21, 55, 59, 111–12, 117 109, 114, 127–28; Clifton-Morenci, 140, Spaniards, 5, 14, 19, 23, 27, 28, 52, 70, 84, 141–42, 161; in Sonora (Mexico), 112–13, 178n62; in Arizona, 47, 48–50, 60, 150, 117 171nn4–5, 192n46 Walsenberg, 75, 76, 116 Spanish-American War, 138 Ward, Eban, 134, 136 Spanish language, 122, 126, 142, 189n106 Warren Mining District, 105, 128, 168 Spezia family, 142, 149, 191n28 Welsh, 18, 61 Spina family, 158, 194n109 Western Federation of Miners (WFM), 1, 2, standpoint theory, 55, 179n3 71, 83–84, 85, 129, 167; Mexicans in, 140, stereotypes, 66–67, 121–22; Latin, 126–27; as 153; strikes, 139, 156, 160 violent, 68–69 West Yankie Concentrator, 141–42 storytelling, 99–100 Wheeler, Harry, 130, 131 strikes, 48, 76, 113, 128, 173n25; Bisbee, 129– whites, 27, 52, 83, 103; attitudes of, 55–56; 31; Clifton-Morenci, 1–2, 69, 139–44, 153, community identity, 25–26; in mining 156–63, 195n130; Globe, 83, 84; Italians camps, 6, 108–9, 127, 130; status, 63–64 and, 71–72, 76; Ludlow, 7–8; 1917, 85–86 Williams, Ben, 106, 109 Swedes, 19, 113, 117 Williams, John, 105–6 Williams, Lewis, 106, 112 terrorism, 69–70 wine-making, 96 Texas, 62, 139 Winkelman, 166 Tombstone, 16, 19, 40, 44, 114, 118, 128 witchcraft, 148, 193n76 transmigration: Italian, 39–42, 81 women, 115, 173nn Tresca, Carlo, 70, 85

Index 225

About the Author

Phylis Cancilla Martinelli is a professor in the Department of Sociology at St. Mary’s College, in Moraga, California. Her areas of teaching and research include immigration, racial and ethnic group relations, medical sociology, urban studies, and those who are the first in their family to attend college. The Foundation Generation Project developed with Dana Herrera examines the challenges faced by first-to-college students and chronicles their life histories; it is an ongoing project. In collaboration with Steve Bachofer, Martinelli worked on another academic innovation, developing a linked learning community that paired urban sociology and chemistry classes to study a Superfund site. Contacts between Italians and Mexican Americans were the focus of her MA thesis, when she investigated ethnic succession in a San Francisco neighborhood. Upon moving to Arizona, she became a member of the Phoenix History Project, collecting materials on neighborhoods and ethnic groups. The latter research enabled her to understand the scope of ethnic immigration to Arizona. She received her doctorate from Arizona State University. Her dissertation was published by AMS Press as Ethnicity in the Sunbelt: Italian American Migrants in Scottsdale, Arizona in 1989. With Martha Bernal, she co- edited a book on Mexican American ethnic identity. Interest in mining communities began with Globe, Arizona, then Bisbee, and later Clifton and Morenci. Her historical research has concentrated on ethnic group interaction in these and other mining towns. The addition of Spaniards to the ethnic groups she studies stems from numerous trips to Spain, including one visit to the Rio Tinto mining district.