LA MIGRA'S ENDLESS WAR ON THE ALIENS

Eighteenth Street near Blue Island Avenue looks more like a Mexican border town than the Bohemian neighborhood it once was. It is called Pilsen because Chicago's early Czech immigrants settled here, but now most of the signs on the stores and restaurants are in Spanish. And the people in the street are dark-complexioned

"Half of them are here illegally," Gino tells me as he expertly tools the bright-orange Continental around a corner. Nobody looks at us, even though the tires squeal. The Continental, confiscated by the Federal government from some lawbreaker, is now permanently assigned to the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service. It is just right for Gino, an undercover agent for the Service. It makes him look more like a successful pimp than a Federal officer who rounds up and deports illegal aliens.

"The alien problem is unbelievable," says Gino. "It gets worse every year. In 1966, Immigration arrested 138,000 illegals; in 1976 it was 866,000. Hell, that's 2,400 a day, mostly Mexicans. And we estimate that for every illegal we catch, three more get away. There are only 1,720 Border Patrolmen— they're stretched thin along 2,000 miles of U.S.-Mexican border. We're helpless in the face of such numbers."

If the Immigration and Naturalization Service is to be believed, there are between six million and eight million illegal aliens living in the United States—250,000 to 500,000 of them in the Chicago area. Ninety percent of them are Mexicans.

The demographics tell the story: in 1945, Mexico's population was 20 million; now it is 60 million; at this rate, by the year 2000 it will be 100 million. Unemployment in Mexico now is 40 percent. Even for those who have jobs, wages are very low. As a result about ten percent of Mexico's citizens have come to the U.S. illegally, to find work or to join relatives who have found work.

Liberals and unions used to be tolerant of the illegal immigrants. The Mexicans filled low-level jobs that nobody else wanted— they were mostly busboys, dishwashers, and agricultural laborers. But lately there has been a shift in such opinion.

The Zero Population Growth Foundation, for instance, a small but influential organization of academics and environmentalists, says that the U.S. is threatened by the runaway population explosion across the border. Paul Ehrlich, the honorary president of ZPG and author of The Population Bomb, describes the illegal immigrants as "a human tidal wave" that is "depressing our economy and costing American taxpayers an estimated $l0 billion to $13 billion a year in lost earnings and taxes, in welfare benefits and public services."

The number varies with the estimator, but illegals are said to hold two million to 3.8 million jobs. The availability of aliens, says Business Week, "puts a ceiling on wages, benefits, and working conditions for U.S. workers in low-wage sectors, including young people just leaving high school—as well as blacks, Puerto Ricans, and other native minorities who are themselves taking their first major steps toward upward jobs and social mobility." Besides taking jobs, every year the aliens send S2.5 billion back home, worsening the U.S. balance-of-payments deficit.

Gino stops the orange Continental for a red light. "This neighborhood is the main port of entry for the aliens," he says. "But they also live on 26th Street [Little Village], on Howard on the North Side, in Roseland on the South Side, and in South Chicago. They're mixed in with the Puerto Ricans on Division Street, and they live all around the suburban ring—Rolling Meadows, Palatine, Joliet, Buffalo Grove, Chicago Heights, Waukegan, Aurora, and Elgin."

The light turns green. "Smuggling aliens is a lucrative business," Gino says. "All you need is a rented moving truck or a van or camper. The aliens pay S250 and up to be smuggled here. Tijuana, El Paso, and Laredo—in that order—are the three biggest places for illegal entries, and the smugglers, who are called coyotes, hire a local man to lead their clients across the border. At Tijuana we're catching 1,200 persons a day with sensors strung along the border that sound an alarm, but we think we miss three times that many people. We deport most of the aliens as soon as we catch them—but some of them are back in three hours with the same coyote who brought them over the first time."

Gino says that many of the aliens are driven straight to Los Angeles International Airport and put on a plane for Chicago. But most of them are hustled into the back of a truck or van along with several cases of soda, | bread, and bologna for the nonstop trip here. "There are no rest stops—a gas-station attendant might call the police if he saw 20 Mexicans using the washroom—so they use a corner of the vehicle as their toilet," says Gino. "One state trooper got curious when he saw liquid trickling out of the back of a refrigerated truck. He stopped the truck and made the driver open the back. Fifty-two aliens jumped out."

When they arrive in Chicago, Gino says, the aliens are dropped off at somebody's house if they have the address of a friend or relative. The immigrants are usually young and male, although occasionally they are women and children on their way to join menfolk already established here. The men with no place to go are dropped off at a "wetshack," a rooming house for wetbacks. "See that three-flat over there? Gino asks. "The owner has wets sleeping on 42 bunks in the basements

The aliens want to work—that's the reason they're here. But to get work they need a Social Security card and other vital documents. Until 1974, a Social Security card could be obtained for the asking; now proof of citizenship or lawful alien status must be submitted. So they must either have a false card made or buy a stolen card that was issued to another person. In either case, the alien fails to get credit for the money deducted from his paycheck for his retirement.

"By going into nearly any tavern, or that bookstore over there, or that travel agency over there," Gino says, pointing, "an alien can buy a whole set of I.D. cards made out in his name—a Texas birth certificate, a Social Security card, an Illinois driver's license—all for $200 to S300."

Resident aliens, legally admitted and legally able to work here, carry a Federal identity card complete with photograph; it is called a "green card" (although it is actually pale blue). Five million of them have been issued. "The green card is currently selling for a bargain price of $45 or $50," says Gino. "The Service is experimenting with one that is presumably counterfeit-proof because of a secret identity number encoded on its back. That's driving down the price of the counterfeits, which used to sell for $150." A t the Service's regional office on the third floor of the Dirksen Federal Building, I inspect several hundred forged green cards. To me, they look like the real thing. "They're good enough to fool a pro spective employer, but not an immigration officer," I'm told by Ted Giorgetti, the INS's chief of general and fraud investigations in II linois, Indiana, and Wisconsin.

"There are 51 really major sellers of bogus documents in the Chicago area," he says, handing over a scrapbook of utterly convincing blank birth certificates, "computer-printed" Selective Service cards, and green cards. "These were evidence in the case of a 30-year-old woman named Oralia Ruiz, who until recently operated a wholesale and retail documents business in Chicago Heights. She pleaded guilty and is serving 18 months. We've got another case pending against an even bigger operator in Chicago Heights who had 44 distributors in the metropolitan area."

Pulling open a safe, Giorgetti produces a list of 165 women's names. "Another way for an alien to come here is to engage in a sham marriage," he says. "The arranger of the marriage gets anywhere from $500 to Sl,500—the bride gets only $100 to $500. The birth certificates of the 265 women on this list have been used in 850 fraudulent marriages. Usually the women don't bother to get a divorce and stay 'married' to several men at the same time."

Confronted with so many illegal aliens, Immigration agents used to raid wetshacks and question persons on the street who looked like Latinos. If they proved to be illegal aliens they were arrested. But this practice has been stopped, mainly because of the anger of Arturo Lopez, the 33-year-old deputy director of the Illinois Migrant Council. The council, funded by the U.S. Department of Labor, provides vocational, educational, and legal services to migrant workers who come here legally.

A fourth-generation American citizen, born in New Mexico, Lopez came to his downtown office one Saturday four years ago to move some furniture. He was wearing blue jeans and a jacket that he had bought in Mexico. Just as he was about to enter his building, two Immigration investigators stopped him.

"Do you live in the area?" one of them asked him.

Lopez says: "At first I thought they were lost or I wouldn't have answered them. I replied, 'No, but can I help you?' "

The men asked Lopez for identification. Lopez refused to produce any.

One of the men asked, "Where were you born?"

Lopez, by now very angry, snapped back, "Where were you born?"

The man, chastened, replied, "Chicago."

"New Mexico," Lopez snapped back.

"Have a good day," the Immigration agent said as he walked away.

Lopez decided to give the Immigration Service a bad day. He filed a class-action suit against the Service in U.S. District Court and won an injunction from Judge Prentice H. Marshall that outlawed street stops of persons "solely because they appeared to be of Mexican ancestry." Judge Marshall ruled that an agent must have "a reasonable suspicion based on articulable facts" that a person is here illegally before interrogating him. The judge also ordered Immigration to get a search warrant or the consent of the owner before inspecting a factory for aliens. T hese strictures slow down Immigra tion, but less than one might think. One morning at 8:30 I join 12 Immigration men and one woman in a suburban coffee shop near O'Hare as they plan an "area-control operation." Immigration is sensitive to the word raid.

This is a young group. Ed Mallon, the man in charge, is 28. He attended John Marshall Law School for a year before joining Immigration nearly six years ago. His pinstripe suit conceals the handcuffs clipped to his belt in the small of his back and a .38 caliber snub-nosed revolver in a waist holster. Using a red marking pen, Mallon draws a sketch of the target, a nearby paper-box factory, and assigns nine of the agents to guard various exits. Sometimes when La Migra— as the aliens call Immigration—shows up at a factory, the workers flee in every direction.

With the briefing over, the Immigration people drive in unmarked, radio-equipped sedans to the plant, where they take up their assigned positions. Two investigator-trainees, Jim McIntyre, 35, and Jim Johnson, 32, both former Border Patrolmen, accompany Mallon into the modern building. They are cordially received by the factory manager.

McIntyre became friendly with the manager after Immigration received an anonymous tip that several illegal aliens are employed in the plant. (Sometimes, though not in this case, plant managers conduct a "layoff" of illegal employes simply by calling Immigration.) The manager has permitted McIntyre to study all the employment applications of the plant's workers and the Immigration man has selected 28 of them as suspicious. In some cases, for instance, the applications show that the workers went to school in Mexico, and yet there is no Immigration record that they ever entered the U.S. legally.

The factory manager turns over his private office to the Immigration men, who now get some bad news. The company's bookkeeper informs them that 15 of the 28 persons selected as suspicious are not at work. They are on other shifts, have called in sick, are on vacation, or have been fired. "OK, we'll make do with those who are here," says Mallon.

Four at a time, the suspect workers are brought into the office and the door is closed behind them. McIntyre flashes a gold badge with an angry-looking eagle on it. "We're with the U.S. Immigration Service," he tells a young couple, husband and wife, who work side-by-side in the plant. "Where were you born?" The man whips out his wallet and shows a voter-registration card: "Puerto Rico," he answers quickly. The woman speaks up: "Me, too, but I forgot my card." "That's all right," McIntyre says, waving them into an adjoining office until they have finished the questioning. The Immigration men don't want them to alarm the other workers in the plant. "If they do," says Ed Mallon, "we'll have to search every locker for illegal aliens. Sometimes they lock themselves in."

Jim McIntyre turns to the next suspect, who has been listening to the questioning. The man, only 20, nervously wipes his sweaty hands on his blue jeans; he has trouble understanding Mclntyre's English. Mclntyre immediately shifts into the fairly Ruent Tex-Mex Spanish that he learned on the border. "Of what country are you a citizen. senor?" he asks politely. The nervous youth confesses immediately that he is a citizen of ___________________________________

Answers to the problem Weary of Federal inaction, at least four states—California, Kansas, Massachusetts, and New Hampshire—have passed laws imposing heavy fines on employers who knowingly hire illegal aliens. At least ten other states are considering doing the same. But the Illinois legislature this year refused to pass similar legislation.

The new commissioner of the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service, Leonel J. Castillo, a Chicano who was formerly city controller of Houston, opposes "independent action by the states . . . in view of the very high likelihood that some action will be taken on this issue [by the Federal government] in the near future."

The rationale behind such legislation is that the flood of illegals can be stemmed only by taking away their reason for coming here. U.S. Secretary of Labor F. Ray Marshall has said that "unless we can deal with this crucial problem, everything we do about our own unemployment problem could be swamped by the influx of illegal workers...."

President Carter has asked Congress to enact laws imposing $l,000 Federal fines on employers who knowingly and repeatedly hire illegal aliens. But the Administration has turned down a proposal to establish a foolproof national identity card that would make it possible for employers to distinguish aliens here legally from those here illegally, or for that matter from native-born Americans of Mexican descent. The project would cost an estimated $500 million. Civil libertarians are opposed to the idea of Americans having to carry such a card, which would be not unlike the internal passport carried by citizens of the Soviet Union.

The Hispanic Congressional Caucus opposes the President's proposed penalties on the ground that prospective employers, afraid of unwittingly hiring illegals, would simply not hire any applicant with a Latin name.

Besides imposing penalties on employers, the proposed legislation would legalize the status of illegal aliens who entered the U.S. before January 1, 1970. They could become citizens. Those who entered after that date but before January first of this year would be put into a "temporary" resident-alien category with no promise of citizenship or any guarantee that they could remain. They would not be eligible for food stamps, welfare payments, Medicare, or Medicaid. Aliens who have entered illegally since January first would be deported. There may be as many as five million aliens in this new "temporary" class. Nobody knows for sure.

The President's package of legislation would also beef up the Border Patrol by at least 2,000 men along the Mexican border, more than doubling the force there now.

David V. Vandersall, district director of the Immigration Service, has been hunting Mexican illegals since he first joined the Border Patrol in 1958. The son of a Presbyterian minister and a Presbyterian deacon himself, he lectures on ethics to church youth groups.

"The question is," he says, "is it right for America, which has only one fifteenth of the world population, to be using up more than one half of the world's resources? And if we do so, don't we have some responsibilities to the poorer countries, like Mexico?

"But if we accept the six million to eight million illegals here now, might we not get another six or eight million illegals when the world sees how well we treat them? Sure, we have a responsibility to the rest of the world, but we also have a responsibility to America. How many people can we assimilate? That's a tough question." _______________________________________ Mexico, that he entered the U.S. illegally on May 16, 1975, making his way across the border near Laredo.

"Did you receive help from a coyote?" McIntyre asks.

"No, senor, I have two cousins here and one of them met me at the border and drove me all the way to Chicago."

The unlucky alien's story unfolds: "In Mexico I worked as a machine operator for $15 a day. Here in Chicago I am also a machine operator but here I earn S44.80 a day." Life in Chicago has been good. With his savings he has bought a secondhand 1973 Plymouth Duster and a stereo set. He sends S200 a month to his parents in Mexico. He has a girlfriend here.

I ask what will happen to the man. There is a hurried consultation. Like 96.54 percent of all the aliens arrested, he has agreed not to demand a hearing before an Immigration judge and instead is asking for what is called "voluntary departure" back to Mexico at his own expense. Tonight he will be lodged in the Metropolitan Correctional Center, the Feds' modernistic downtown jail, which has room for 90 aliens. (Any overflow goes to the far less elegant House of Correction.) Tomorrow, after his employer sends over his last paycheck, he will join other aliens on a special chartered bus that runs practically nonstop to the Mexican border. The man will g have to ask his friends to sell his car and stereo set.

The strategy behind this quick voluntary departure is that the man has avoided being deported, something that could make his legal return to the U.S. in the future much g more difficult. In any event, his return here ashy a legal immigrant will not be easy. Since 4 1965 the law has authorized the admission of only 120,000 immigrants a year from these_ Western Hemisphere. Last year, 67,000 Mexicans entered legally. There are 160,000 others, all qualified, awaiting admission. . They may have a long wait. This young Mexican going back tomorrow may have an even longer wait before he will earn $4.60 an hour again. No wonder many Mexicans keep coming back illegally time after time.

McIntyre questions another Puerto Rican, who obligingly pulls out a half-dozen identification cards. "And I also have this one!" he laughs, holding up a Master Charge card. Everybody laughs. The laughter is welcome because the Immigration men can find few additional aliens to arrest—only a young man from Colombia wearing a Donald Duck T-shirt, and a 33-year-old Mexican woman* stylish in her work clothes, with blusher on ____________________________________ *Uusually Immigration makes bigger hauls. The day before,38 men and women were arrested in a suburban plastics factory The previous month, 124 illegal aliens, earning as much as $5.85 an hour as union meat-cutters and processors, were found at a Chicago meat packing plant. ______________________________________ her cheeks, green eye shadow, and foxy brown manicured fingernails.

She is transported, separately, in a brown Immigration Plymouth driven by Investigator Mary Vernice, a slim 24-year-old who majored in English and German in college. At the Federal Building, Vernice takes the woman's fingerprints and squirts Zepox, a spray soap, on her inked hands. Then, speaking Spanish, Vernice interviews the woman, who has this story to tell:

"I came here in 1971 with a passport and a visitor's visa good only for three months. I never went back. With me, I had a new baby—now he's five. And now I also have a little girl who was born here three years ago—she is an American citizen! In 1974, my husband was killed in an automobile accident in Juarez. Now I am my children's sole support. I make $4.48 an hour."

"This woman is in no immediate danger of deportation," Vernice tells me. "On October 1, 1974, she got what we call a priority date qualifying her for a visa appointment with a U.S. consul, and she's still waiting to be called, so we can't touch her." Last March. the U.S. District Court in Chicago barred the Immigration Service from deporting 300,000 Western Hemisphere persons eligible for admission to the U.S. who are awaiting such consular interviews. A lawsuit, still pending charges that Cuban political refugees are receiving preference at the expense of other would-be immigrants from this hemisphere. Vernice fills out a mimeographed form letter explaining the woman's status, so that she won't be arrested by Immigration men again and then sees her to the door. F actories are not the only place where aliens are hunted. O'Hare Airport is a favorite stalking place. Late one afternoon I walk along with Bob Magidson—who at 33 doesn't look at all like an Immigration agent. Dressed in blue jeans and dirty gym shoes, he makes the rounds of airport arrival gates. "As far as I'm concerned, I feel we have prob able cause to stop someone who looks furtive who doesn't speak English, who arrived on a plane from near the Mexican border and who seems disoriented," Magidson tells me.

Magidson approaches two young men awaiting United Flight 104 from Los Angeles. One of them is thin, the other is chubby. The chubby man wears three-inch elevator shoes and is slow to answer when Magidson asks if this is Flight 104. Flashing his badge, Magidson questions the men in Spanish. They say they are meeting a friend from Los Angeles but don't know his airline.

The thin man's green card is acceptable; the other's isn't. The person forging it has listed the man's port of entry as "TXS" (Texas, maybe?). Immigration doesn't use such an abbreviation. "You will please come with me, senor," Magidson tells the chubby man, leading him on the long walk to the International Terminal and through Customs to an empty office in Immigration.

The man protests his innocence. Magidson puts the green card into an ultraviolet light box that stands on the desk and shakes his head. The card has failed to fluoresce. "That is the problem of La Migra," the chubby man says. "This is the card sent to me from Dearborn Street [Immigration's offices]."

Magidson asks the man to empty his pockets. In his wallet is a paycheck stub, showing that he earns $5.83 an hour working for the Indiana Harbor Belt R.R. Company, and an Immigration Service receipt for a confiscated green card. "We'll let this guy sit for a while," Magidson says. "Once they've lied to you, they hate to admit it—they lose face."

We head back to the United concourse and a flight from San Jose, California. Two young Latino men greet a friend getting off the plane. The passenger speaks no English and has no green card. The two friends, who have valid green cards, accompany Magidson and the passenger on the walk back to Immigration. One of them talks constantly all the way:

"This man is from Jalisco, one of the most economically depressed states in Mexico. He worked there as a laborer, earning only 25 cents an hour. For the last four months he hasn't worked at all, and he has five kids to support. He paid a coyote $200 to smuggle him over the border and $156 for the airplane fare. Please, sir, give him a break. Let him work here for a couple of weeks and try to at least earn back the money he has invested." Magidson shakes his head; the man should know better. A construction laborer he has been here for seven years. The other man, here for eight years, works for a watersoftener firm. Both are from Jalisco.

Magidson turns the illegal aliens over to another investigator for processing and looks in on the chubby man with the fake green card. "He's talking," says an investigator, pecking on some forms on a typewriter. "He got this Immigration Service receipt for his original green card when it was lifted when he was being investigated for marriage fraud. He ended up being deported because it developed that he was still married to a woman in Mexico when he married an American citizen. and bought this flake green card."

A cigar-smoking investigator wearing a baseball cap leads in an attractive family group, a curly-haired man of 22, his l 9-yearold wife, in a tight-fitting white pants suit, and the woman's 17-year-old brother. They have just arrived on American Airlines from Los Angeles. All three are citizens of Mexico and are here illegally.

The brother came to the States only three weeks ago, joining his sister and brother-inlaw, who had crossed into the U.S. as hitchhikers three months ago, immediately after their marriage in Guadalajara. (In their luggage they carry their wedding pictures.) In California the bride took a job as a maid in a Methodist old-people's home; the groom found temporary work in Chicago, where his brother lives, and then joined his wife and brother-in-law in California. They have managed to save most of their earnings. The wife has $1,300 in her wallet and a bank book from Alhambra, California, that shows she has $600 in her account.

"Please," begs the young bridegroom. "if we are to be placed in jail tonight, we wish to share the same cell."

"I'm afraid that's not possible," says Magidson "The ladv will go to a a convent in Chicago--the House of the Good Shepherd. We will arrange for her to stay there." The couple still looks apprehensive.

The paperwork completed, Magidson adds up the evening's results: "We've got six men and two women to take downtown. They're all [Form] 274s—they all want voluntary departures. They'll be back in Mexico when the weekend's over." As I start to leave the airport for home, I hear the bridegroom talking on the telephone to his brother. Their reunion, he says, will have to be postponed. He looks very unhappy but resigned to his fate. Athough all but a tiny percentage of the aliens arrested choose voluntary de parture instead of deportation, some 700 persons resisting deportation await disposi tion of their cases in Chicago. Five Immigra tion judges hold court on the fourth floor of the Dirksen Federal Building.

Judge Thomas M. Ragno's courtroom, Room 480, is actually his small office, but he wears a black robe and his desk stands on a carpeted, foot-high platform. The accused sits at a table below, across from an interpreter and Immigration trial attorney, O. John Bruhus, who acts as prosecutor.

At the table there is room for a defense lawyer, but since the hearing is not regarded as a criminal proceeding the government doesn't provide attorneys for indigent persons. Consequently, most of the aliens go unrepresented. Having a lawyer might not change the ultimate result, but an attorney using appeals procedures is at least able to delay a deportation for six to 12 months. His client, meanwhile, can remain free on bonds that range from $500 to about $l,500, with some aliens being released merely on their signature.

Judge Ragno, who took a job with Immigration as soon as he got out of law school, is a lively man of 40 with an expressive Italian face. Whistling a tune, he flips on a Sony tape recorder to record the proceedings. The respondent, as the alien is called, is a 23-yearold man who has had the bad luck to be arrested in Indiana for drunken driving. The police turned him over to La Migra. Now, acting as his own lawyer, he claims that he is a national of the U.S. "I am together with a woman who is like my wife—we have two children here together," he tells the judge.

"That doesn't make you a national of the U.S.," Judge Ragno says, reading the definition of a national from an Immigration pamphlet. Bruhus, the Immigration lawyer then nails the coffin shut with a rapid series of questions: "Your father was a citizen of Mexico and was born in Mexico? Your mother was a citizen of Mexico and was born in Mexico? Were you ever naturalized in the U.S. for citizenship? You were not born in the U.S.? You are now a citizen of Mexico?"

With the alien's nationality established the judge tells the man that he may request voluntary departure provided that he has had no trouble with the law and is deserving. The man says he'd like that very much. Bruhus opposes this, insisting on deportation and asking more questions. We learn that the man has made eight illegal entries into the U.S. since he was 14, has been deported twice, and was returned "voluntarily" to Mexico once. He supported himself in Indiana by picking crops and working for a dry-wall contractor. He returned almost yearly to Mexico so that he could visit his parents in Monterrey.

"You have two children, one born in Mexico and one in Indiana?" Bruhus asks. The man says yes, that the children live in Indianapolis with their mother, who is Texasborn.

Q. Have you ever supported the children ?

A. Yes.

Q. Isn't it a fact that the children are on welfare now and also the mother?

A. It seems so.

Q. In the Indianapolis jail, didn't you tell the immigration of fier that you were born in Brownsville, Texas?

A. Yes, I told him that once.

Bruhus clears his throat. "The governIns lent would oppose voluntary departure," he says. "This man has a history of flouting the immigration laws—eight times, in fact. He admits that he has two illegitimate children on welfare and hasn't supported them in six months. He also admits that he lied to an immigration officer."

The judge, curious as to why this alien didn't legalize his status when he had the chance, asks: "Why didn't you marry the woman?"

"because we were having fights," the man replies.

Q. Do you wish to name a country to be deported to?

A. [looking at his clenched hands] I wish to remain here.

Q. Do you wish to name a country?

A. What can I say?

Bruhus, interrupting: "The country of his nativity and birth."

Q. If you were to be deported to Mexico, do you fear that you would be persecuted because of race, religion, or politics?

A. No.

The judge, directing his remarks to the tape recorder, now begins a long summing up: "Respondent is a native and citizen of Mexico and subject to deponation.... He entered the U.S. without inspection.... Voluntary departure is a privilege and not a right; the respondent must have funds [$70 to pay for his bus ticket] and must depart promptly. The record reflects that the respondent is a repeated and flagrant violator of the immigration laws of this country."

Turning to the Mexican, the judge says: "You have a right to appeal my deportation order to the Board of Immigration Appeals in Washington."

A. I want to be sent to Mexico. I have no money to hire a lawyer.

Q. All I wish to know is if you wish to appeal my decision.

A. The decision you are giving me is just.

A guard wearing an olive-drab uniform leads the man down a flight of stairs to a sort of glass-fronted bullpen. where two dozen other Latinos are waiting for the bus that will take them to El Paso.

In the judge's chambers, the next respondent, a sleepy-looking man in a short-sleeved shirt, is being questioned. He admits that he paid $500 to marry a woman whose name is in Imrnigration's film because she has married several aliens previously. When Immigration ordered the man to produce either divorce decrees or death certificates for the woman's previous husbands, he was caught in La Mfgra's net.

The Mexican now admits to three illegal entries into the U.S. The first time, he waded across the shallow Rio Grande at Laredo and made it on his own to Hillside, Illinois, where he was arrested ten weeks later. Three months after his expulsion, he paid $250 to a coyote to drive him to Albuquerque from Juarez, and once again he was arrested and expelled. A few months later, in November 1972, he made it across the border at Del Rio, Texas, and came to Chicago once again. He found a job, paying only $2.35 an hour, with a steelsupply company.

Q. Have you ever filled out an income-tax return?

A. I haven't.

Q. How many dependents did you claim as exemptions on your withholding?

A. My parents and my four brothers.

Q. Persons not living in the U.S.?

A. Yes (Many aliens, feeling they never can become citizens anyway, are tempted to do the same. But before being given legalimmigrant status they must show evidence that they have paid their income taxes for at least three years.)

Judge Ragno dictates his findings: "The record shows this man entered into a sham marriage and admitted entering the U.S. illegally on at least three occasions, once with the aid of a coyote. Application for relief, voluntary departure, is denied as a matter of administrative discretion. It is ordered respondent be deported. Do you wish to appeal my decision?" The Mexican, looking sleepier as the judge drones on, shakes his head. No. He too is led downstairs, where the passengers for the bus to Mexico are waiting.

At 3:30 p.m. a young man who announces that he is from Greyhound arrives and sets up a table opposite the bullpen. The aliens wait in line patiently as the ticket agent counts out the $70 fares they offer him. Twenty-eight men pay; the seven being deported from Chicago and the one from Detroit ride free. The bus will run nearly nonstop, picking up one more alien in St. Louis and four more in Kansas City. All 41 seats will be occupied.

En route the ahens will not be allowed to leave the bus. Frank Hughes, a trim-looking man of 47, will guard them until they reach Kansas City, Missouri, where another guard will take over. Hughes, who is unrnent would oppose voluntary departure," he says. "This man has a history of flouting the immigration laws—eight times, in fact. He admits that he has two illegitimate children on welfare and hasn't supported them in six months. He also admits that he lied to an immigration officer."

The judge, curious as to why this alien didn't legalize his status when he had the chance, asks: "Why didn't you marry the woman?"

"Because we were having fights," the man replies.

Q. Do you wish to name a country to be deported to?

A. tlooking at his clenched hands] I wish to remain here.

Q. Do you wish to name a country?

A. What can I say?

Bruhus, interrupting: "The country of his nativity and birth."

Q. If you were to be deported to Mexico, do you fear that you would be persecuted because of race, religion, or polities?

A. No.

The judge, directing his remarks to the tape recorder, now begins a long summing up: "Respondent is a native and citizen of Mexico and subject to deportation.... He entered the U.S. without inspection.... Voluntary departure is a privilege and not a right; the respondent must have funds [S70 to pay for his bus ticket] and must depart promptly. The record reflects that the respondent is a repeated and flagrant violator of the immigration laws of this country."

Turning to the Mexican, the judge says: "You have a right to appeal my deportation order to the Board of Immigration Appeals in Washington."

A. I want to be sent to Mexico. I have no money to hire a lawyer.

Q. All I wish to know is if you wish to appeal my decision.

A. The decision you are giving me is just.

A guard wearing an olive-drab uniform leads the man down a Right of stairs to a sort of glass-fronted bullpen. where two dozen other Latinos are waiting for the bus that will take them to El Paso.

In the judge's chambers, the next respondent, a sleepy-looking man in a short-sleeved shirt, is being questioned. He admits that he paid SS00 to marry a woman whose name is in Immigration's files because she has married several aliens previously. When Immigration ordered the man to produce either divorce decrees or death certificates for the woman's previous husbands, he was caught in La Migra's net.

The Mexican now admits to three illegal entries into the U.S. The first time, he waded across the shallow Rio Grande at Laredo and made it on his own to Hillside, Illinois, where he was arrested ten weeks later. Three months after his expulsion, he paid S250 to a coyote to drive him to Albuquerque from Juarez, and once again he was arrested and expelled. A few months later, in November 1972, he made it across the border at Del Rio, Texas, and came to Chicago once again. He found a job, paying only S2.35 an hour, with a steelsupply company.

Q. Have you ever filled out an income-tax return?

A. I haven't.

Q. How many dependents did you claim as exemptions on your withholding?

A. My parents and my four brothers.

Q. Persons not living in the U.S.?

A. Yes (Many aliens, feeling they never can become citizens anyway, are tempted to do the same. But before being given legalimmigrant status they must show evidence that they have paid their income taxes for at least three years.)

Judge Ragno dictates his findings: "The record shows this man entered into a sham marriage and admitted entering the U.S. illegally on at least three occasions, once with the aid of a coyote. Application for relief, voluntary departure, is denied as a matter of administrative discretion. It is ordered respondent be deported. Do you wish to appeal my decision?" The Mexican, looking sleepier as the judge drones on, shakes his head. No. He too is led downstairs, where the passengers for the bus to Mexico are waiting.

At 3:30 p.m. a young man who announces that he is from Greyhound arrives and sets up a table opposite the bullpen. The aliens wait in line patiently as the ticket agent counts out the 570 fares they offer him. Twenty-eight men pay; the seven being deported from Chicago and the one from Detroit ride free. The bus will run nearly nonstop, picking up one more alien in St. Louis and four more in Kansas City. All 41 seats will be occupied.

En route the ahens will not be allowed to leave the bus. Frank Hughes, a trim-looking man of 47, will guard them until they reach Kansas City, Missouri, where another guard will take over. Hughes, who is un| armed, says: "These aren't criminals; I don't expect any trouble, and we rarely have any. A couple of times a few men got away by popping out the emergency exits when the bus stopped to refuel."

The men in the bullpen stir expectantly. The delivery man from School Lunches has arrived with a meal of burritos, Spanish rice and milk. Everyone likes the food except a lone black man, who is being deported to Nigeria. "OK, men," Frank Hughes says, "let's pick up our suitcases and go down to the bus."

The plastic identification wrist bands, similar to those worn by hospital patients, are cut off the men's wrists, and the aliens are marched to a special locked elevator. As they pass the glassed-in room where the female aliens are kept, a number of the men doff their hats and tender sweeping, mocking bows. The women laugh.

In the basement garage the men file onto the waiting bus. Frank Hughes tells me: "In 32 hours we'll deliver them to Mexican Immigration at Juarez, just across from El Paso." A young man sprawled on one of the front seats hears him say this and laughs: "Hasta pronto, amigo. Maybe we'll be seeing you again, real soon."

With a gush of blue smoke, the bus heads out into the Loop traffic and toward Interstate 55. The young Mexicans wave, but there is nobody to wave back.