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Morning Open Thread featuring citrus-flavored songs [1]

['This Content Is Not Subject To Review Daily Kos Staff Prior To Publication.']

Date: 2025-01-04

Morning Open Thread is a daily, copyrighted post from a host of editors and guest writers. We support our community, invite and share ideas, and encourage thoughtful, respectful dialogue in an open forum.

Before we get to the music, here’s some wordy words, related to the ‘citrus-flavored’ theme.

In the 1980’s, my friend managed a citrus fruit ‘packing shed’ near Phoenix AZ. The shed handled picking, culling, boxing, and shipping fruit (to a Sunkist distribution facility). Typically, four semi-trailers were filled and dispatched, six days a week.

The following is a description of the way that operated, with many details omitted, some for brevity, and some because I do not know them. This is not implying that all packing shed operations in the area worked this way. And not implying that anyone referenced was committing crimes, this is just a description of how things were back then.

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Citrus fruit was picked by men who crossed the Southern U.S. border from Guatemala. I don’t know how they got to AZ from Guatemala. They were not U.S. citizens, and perhaps did not cross the border ‘legally’, nor have ‘work visas’. At the packing shed itself, workers were all Hispanic-speaking long-term local residents, perhaps many were legal U.S. citizens.

The groves, the shed, and its property, were leased by a group of investors, mostly from back East. The investors contracted with a local accountant to handle the financial affairs and the government paperwork. The investors had one, and only one, prime directive – maximize profit.

There were no ‘employees’ anywhere in the chain, including my friend, he was simply positioned as an ‘independent contractor’. Workers were scheduled, and paid (in cash), by a few local men who coordinated with the shed manager. Thus there was no possibility of ‘hiring illegals’.

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The pickers were all from Guatemala, they slept on the ground, in some grove that was not being picked the next day. This anecdotal writing is related to a February visit, the picking season varies by the ‘variety’ of fruit. (English teacher: horrible phrase, repair it)

There were also other workers (cullers, packers, and loaders) who were long-term residents of the local Hispanic community. They were scheduled (and paid cash weekly) by another long-term local Hispanic resident. That’s all I’ll write about them, for brevity, and topic clarity.

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Another bilingual local resident ‘managed’ the pickers. He selected them for work shifts and paid them in cash each Saturday afternoon.

Early each morning (except Sundays) he would drive his pickup to the sleeping groves, and take the required crew to the picking groves. The pickers worked 6 AM until 3 PM. Then the pickup man would return them to the sleeping groves. They would first stop at the nearest c-store so the pickers could get supper food/drinks. I don’t know how they got breakfast and lunch.

The pickers strapped on 3-ft deep canvas bags, and carried short ladders, and were paid according to the amount of weight they picked. The picked fruits were put into open-top wagons to go to the shed.

On Saturdays after picking finished, the pickup man (with a gun holstered on his hip) paid all the pickers in cash. He then took them to the local c-store, where most of them sent Western Union money transactions to their families in Guatemala. They kept some money for themselves, but it was not safe to keep too much, due to their unprotected living situation. They then walked from the c-store to their sleeping grove, usually less than two miles.

The pickers kept a low profile, caused no trouble, this was likely their only income for the year.

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Aside: Google maps shows the place where the groves were, now are high-end housing, look for ‘Seville Golf And Country Club’ to see what I mean.

The above is all personal experience, no external sources, and thus does not have provenance for Doctoral Dissertations, Master’s Theses, nor grandchild’s homework.

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OK now the citrus-flavored music

Tangerine

Lemon Tree

Lime In The Coconut

Orange Blossom Special — Note: the bald keyboard player is a friend of mine, he lives in a nearby town. He had heard me play/sing when I was in Branson years ago, but Roy Clark did not have any staff openings, so I did not get to perform with them (or maybe there was another reason….)

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