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Flood Of Immigrants To Long Island Sparks Tension

By Ari Shapiro

Published November 19, 2009 12:44 AM

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For decades, the eastern half of Long Island swam in a sea of red sauce. Italian restaurants dotted nearly every strip mall. Now, the mozzarella has some competition.

A recent TV spot that aired in Long Island shows three men sitting around a deli table. The first says in a thick Long Island accent, "Are you kidding? Mi Ranchito has the best pupusas!" The second man indignantly shoots back, "Whadda you know? You think Carleone's has the best empanadas!"

That public service announcement lightheartedly calls for harmony between whites and Hispanics in a community where a flood of immigrants from Latin America has created tension and sometimes violence.

One year ago, an Ecuadorean day laborer named Marcelo Lucero was stabbed to death. The defendants are seven high school students who said they went out about once a week looking for immigrants to bash. They called it "beaner hopping."

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, Suffolk County's Hispanic population has grown by 40 percent since the millennium. In many towns, a sight has become common that was rare a decade ago: groups of men standing on street corners, waiting for work.

Suffolk covers the half of Long Island farthest from New York City. It includes summer towns where celebrities own multimillion dollar weekend homes, and working-class villages where people raise their families.

Farmingville, N.Y.

Louise Scarola lives in one of those villages, a town of 17,000 called Farmingville.

"I won't really go to a 7-Eleven where there's 50, 60 guys standing out there in the morning," Scarola said on a recent walking tour of her neighborhood. "I'm just not comfortable with that."

She and her husband share a modest house with two dogs on a quiet street. She points to a crumbling shell of a home where, she says, 64 people lived in a 900-square-foot house. The landlord took in $10,000 a month and rented beds out in shifts.

"Somebody got a bed for so many hours a day, and somebody else got that same bed for so many others," Scarola says. Because there was only one toilet in the house, people used the backyard. "So there were multiple holes dug that people would urinate and defecate in."

The town eventually cracked down on this landlord and others who were doing the same thing, but Scarola says there are still crowded homes in the neighborhood.

Signs of the immigrant tide are everywhere. Down the street, a few dozen men gather around a truck. Representatives from a Spanish language church are handing out hot chocolate and brochures.

When Scarola asks whether they have anything in English, the man haltingly replies that their handouts are only in Spanish. Scarola wishes them luck, and the man replies, "God bless you."

"I don't have anything against these people," says Scarola. "They're human beings like you and me. They're not subhumans because they come over the border to make a better life and help their families."

Scarola says that when people in her neighborhood do a home renovation, they don't necessarily seek out a contractor who only uses documented workers. Instead, they go for the cheapest price they can find, regardless of who's doing the work.

"Then these may be the same people that are out there screaming, 'Deport them.' So it gets to be hypocritical," Scarola says. "I mean, obviously [immigrants] wouldn't be here if there weren't jobs for them."

That is the crux of the issue, says Matthew Crosson. He's president of the Long Island Association, a consortium of businesses and community groups that promotes development in the region. From a business perspective, Crosson says, immigrants keep Long Island's economy afloat. He argues that without them, countless restaurants and landscaping businesses would close.

"The reality is, given the outflow of younger people on Long Island, those jobs simply would not be done in this community," he says. "Anybody who says that there are plenty of Long Islanders who could be filling those jobs is just incorrect factually. That is not the case."

'This Is My Community'

Elaine Kahl does not dispute that argument. But, she says, "If we need people here, we do it legally."

Kahl grew up in Suffolk County, and she is now co-chair of a group called The Suffolk County Coalition for Legal Immigration/No Amnesty. She wants every worker to be documented.

Kahl lives in the vacation mecca of Southampton. It's a playground for the rich and famous, with huge lawns and swimming pools that need a lot of maintenance. In the past, high-schoolers might have done those jobs, but Crosson says that's no longer the case.

"Things have changed," says Crosson. "Kids don't go running around mowing lawns, and you don't get kids who are going to bury their arms up to their elbows in hot dishwater."

Kahl is disturbed by the changes to her community. "Where is it written that people can just come in and sit down and settle in, and not be accountable to anybody?" she asks.

"I believe that what we're on a path for here is very frightening," Kahl says. "The end of that path is mob rule — complete breakdown of our society."

With strong voices on both sides of the immigration divide, a cold Thursday night in Farmingville found a group of whites and Latinos standing side by side, just struggling to get by.

The group Food not Bombs hands out fresh groceries here once a week. There are boxes full of pomegranates, bananas, broccoli and cauliflower — roughly 2,000 pounds of food on this night, all donated by local farms and supermarkets.

There are at least as many people speaking English as Spanish. One woman pulls a birthday cake out of a box and asks whether anyone is having a birthday. Jon Stepanian, another volunteer, oversees a box full of dairy products. "This is plain yogurt," he says to a Hispanic mother carrying a young child. "You can mix in different flavors, like strawberries or whatever."

When Stepanian helped start this program in June, he had no intention of engaging in an immigration debate. The debate found him.

"The first woman that drove up said, 'This is great bread!' and she started putting bread in her bag," says Stepanian. "She started talking to us, and she goes, 'Do you feed the illegals?' We said, 'We feed everybody. The food's free. We think food's a right.' She goes, 'You can't do that, though. This is my community!' "

The situation became tense. The woman eventually called the police, and the police said the group could stay.

Acts Of Violence

Immigrant rights activists in Suffolk County say Latinos have grown accustomed to a low-grade hostility. People spit and shout at immigrants. Day laborers who ride bicycles say cars have driven them off the side of the road.

Speaking in Spanish at a hiring site for day laborers, an immigrant from Guatemala named Giovanni Garcia described injuring his hand while loading a trailer at a work site.

"My boss told me if I took him to court he'd call immigration to have me deported," Garcia says. "I told him, 'Bring it on.' My boss didn't call immigration and didn't pay for my medical treatment. I had to pay for it."

There are also high-profile acts of violence. Two immigrants were beaten nearly to death in 2000. A few years later, attackers firebombed a Mexican family's house. The violence seemed to culminate with the Marcelo Lucero murder, almost exactly one year ago. Now the Justice Department is looking into whether the local police have a pattern of ignoring hate crime allegations.

That investigation is the subject of Part 2 of this story, on All Things Considered.

This piece was produced for broadcast by Marisa Penaloza.

Related Links

Part 2: Do Long Island Police Ignore Hate Crimes?

View audio transcript

STEVE INSKEEP, host:

We're going next to a suburban community that's been forced to confront questions about immigration. The community is in Suffolk County on New York's Long Island. For decades it had a mostly white population, many of them descendents of immigrants who got their start in New York City. Now new immigrants, Hispanic immigrants, have been arriving, and that has sometimes led to tension. One year ago, an Ecuadorian laborer was stabbed to death.

NPR's Ari Shapiro has two reports, one this morning, one this afternoon, on a changing Long Island.

ARI SHAPIRO: Suffolk County covers the half of Long Island farthest from New York City. There are summer towns where celebrities own multi-million dollar weekend homes and working class villages where people raise their families. For decades, these communities swam in a sea of red sauce. There were Italian restaurants in nearly every strip mall. Now the mozzarella has some competition.

(Soundbite of public service announcement)

Unidentified Man #1: Are you kidding? Mi Ranchito has the best pupusas.

Unidentified Man #2: Hey, whadda you know? Huh? You think Carleone's has the best empanadas.

SHAPIRO: This was a recent public service announcement appealing for harmony between Whites and Latinos. Suffolk County's Hispanic population has grown 40 percent since the new millennium. People were drawn by jobs in landscaping and construction. Those newcomers have been the focus of a local battle over immigration, and at times the battle has become violent. Last November, Marcelo Lucero was stabbed to death. The defendants are seven local high schoolers who said they went out about once a week looking for immigrants to bash. They called it beaner hopping.

We came here to see how things have changed in the last decade, and in the year since the killing. Louise Scarola agreed to show us around her hometown of Farmingville, where she has seen dramatic changes in the last 20 years.

Ms. LOUISE SCAROLA: Myself, I won't really go to a 7-Eleven where there's 50, 60 guys standing out there in the morning. I'm just not comfortable with that.

SHAPIRO: Scarola, her husband, and two dogs have a modest house on a quiet street. Three doors down from her place, Scarola points out a crumbling shell. She says 64 people lived in a 900-square-foot house. The landlord took in $10,000 a month cash.

Ms. SCAROLA: Somebody got a bed for so many hours a day, and somebody got that same bed for so many others. And they would use - because there was one toilet - the backyard as a toilet. So there were multiple holes dug that people would urinate and defecate in.

SHAPIRO: The town eventually cracked down on this landlord and others who were doing the same thing, but Scarola says there are still crowded homes in this neighborhood.

Signs of the immigrant tide are everywhere. Down the street, a group of men gathers around a truck. Representatives from a Spanish language church are handing out hot chocolate and brochures.

Ms. SCAROLA: Do you have anything in English, or is it all in Spanish?

Unidentified Man #3: It's in Spanish.

SCAROLA: Spanish? Okay.

Unidentified Man #3: It is Spanish. Everything is in Spanish.

Ms. SCAROLA: Okay, good luck, nice to see you.

Unidentified Man #3: God bless you.

Ms. SCAROLA: Thanks, you too. Have a good day.

Unidentified Man #3: You too.

Ms. SCAROLA: I don't have anything against these people. They're people, they're human beings like you and me. You know, they're not subhumans because they've, you know, come over the border to, you know, make a better life, help their families.

SHAPIRO: When people in the neighborhood do a home renovation, how important is it to them to hire a contractor who only uses documented workers?

Ms. SCAROLA: You know, from what I see, I think a lot of people will go for the cheapest price they can get. So they're not really concerned with who's doing the work. But then these may be the same people that are out there screaming, you know, deport them.

So it gets to be hypocritical. I mean, obviously they wouldn't be here he if there weren't jobs for them.

SHAPRIO: And that is the crux of the issue, says Matthew Crosson. He's president of the Long Island Association, a consortium of businesses and community groups that promotes development in the region. From a business perspective, Crosson says, immigrants keep Long Island's economy afloat. He says without them countless restaurants and landscaping businesses would close.

Mr. MATTHEW CARSON (President, Long Island Association): The reality is, given the outflow of younger people on Long Island, those jobs simply would not be done in this community. So - and anybody who says that there are plenty of Long Islanders who could be filling those jobs is just incorrect. Factually that is not the case.

Ms. ELAINE KAHL (Suffolk County Coalition for Legal Immigration): If we need people here, we do it legally.

SHAPIRO: Elaine Kahl grew up in Suffolk County.

Ms. KAHL: And I'm the co-chair of the Suffolk County Coalition for Legal, L-E-G-A-L, Immigration, no amnesty.

SHAPIRO: Kahl lives in the vacation mecca of Southampton. It's a playground for the rich and famous, with huge lawns and swimming pools that need a lot of maintenance.

In the past, high schoolers might have done those jobs. But Matt Crosson of the Long Island Association says that's no longer the case.

Mr. CROSSON: Things have changed. Kids don't go run around mowing lawns and you don't get kids, for the most part, who are, you know, going to bury their arms up to their elbows in hot dishwater.

SHAPIRO: But Elaine Kahl is disturbed by the changes to her community.

Ms. KAHL: Where is it written that people can just come in and sit down and settle in and not be accountable to anybody? I believe that what we're on path for here is very frightening. The end of that path is mob rule - a complete breakdown of our society.

Unidentified Woman #1: This is a birthday cake. Anybody got a birthday?

SHAPIRO: The group Food Not Bombs hands out grocery once a week. With strong voices on both sides of the immigration divide, this is a group of whites and Latinos just struggling to get by. Tonight there are at least as many people speaking English as Spanish.

There are boxes full of pomegranates, bananas, broccoli, and cauliflower, all donated by local farms and super markets.

Unidentified Man #4: Here we've got milk. We've got�

Unidentified Man #5: This is milk?

Unidentified Man #4: Yeah, yeah.

SHAPIRO: When Jon Stepanian helped start this program in June of this year, he had no intention of engaging in an immigration debate. But he says the debate found him.

Mr. JOHN STEPHANIAN: The first woman that drove up, she came and she said, oh, this is great bread and she started putting bread in her bag. And she starts talking to us and goes, do you feed the illegals? And we say, well, we feed everybody. I mean the food is free. We think food's a right. And she goes, you can't do that though, this is my community.

SHAPIRO: Things got a little tense. The woman eventually called the police and the police said the group could to stay.

Unidentified Woman #2: Thank You.

SHAPIRO: Immigrant rights activists in Suffolk county say Latinos have gotten used to a low-grade hostility. People spit or shout at immigrants. Day laborers who ride bicycles say cars have driven them off the side of the road.

Giovanni Garcia is from Guatemala. We met him at a hiring site for day laborers.

Mr. GIOVANNI BARCIA: (Through translator) My hand got injured at work while I was operating heavy machinery loading a trailer. My boss told me if I took him to court, he'd call immigration to have me deported. I told them, bring it on. But my boss didn't call immigration and didn't pay for my medical treatment. I had to pay for it.

SHAPIRO: Then there are the high-profile acts of violence. Two immigrants were beaten nearly to death in 2000. A few years later, attackers fire-bombed a house that a Mexican family was living in. The violence seemed to culminate with the Marcelo Lucero murder almost exactly one year ago. Now the Justice Department is looking into whether the local police have a pattern of ignoring hate crime allegations, and that is the subject of tonight's story on ALL THINGS CONSIDERED.

Ari Shapiro, NPR News. Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright National Public Radio.

Source: NPR

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