Esteban Diaz, Author of Our Family History
By Larry J. Rodarte ©The Diaz Observer, August 2012
Steve – an ancient name derived from the Greek name Stephanos meaning “crown, garland.” For our family, the Spanish derivative Esteban, was chosen by Grandma Cecilia and Grandpa Senobio 100 years ago for their second son.
The name is significant to Christians: according to the Book of Acts in the New Testament, Saint Stephen was a deacon who was stoned to death and is regarded as the first Christian martyr.
July 31, 2012 marked the 100th anniversary of the birth of José Esteban de Rancho Getrudis, in the state of Guanajuato, Mexico. To us, he was known as Uncle Steve, that gentle soul who always brought love to all who knew him.
He was the third child of Senobio and Cecilia and the first born in Piñicuaro, Guanajuato. His older siblings, José Vicente and Cruz, were born in nearby Huandacareo, in the state of Michoacán. It was said that Grandma Cecilia had two more children between 1912 and 1919, but they did not survive infancy. Esteban Diaz was the only child from Santa Getrudis, the homestead of Grandpa Senobio’s Diaz familia.
We are fortunate that Esteban was educated and could read and write in both Spanish and English. He left us a first-hand account of memories of his early life and the migration from Mexico to the United States, which is a beautiful historical account of our family beginnings.
“My Dad had come to the U.S. about 8 or 9 months before us as a political refuges after his Dad was hanged by the government troops as a revolutionary,” Esteban Diaz wrote in 1978 in a letter to his daughter Susan for a school project. “After having worked in the coal mines in Colorado and saving some money, he sent for us to come to El Paso, Texas, where he was waiting for us to join him in the land of “freedom and opportunity” as he put it. It was May or June of 1919, and I clearly remember my reaction at the sight of this beautiful land so different from ours.”
It was 1919, when 30-year old Cecilia Diaz, crossed that border legally to meet her husband with José Vicente 12, and Esteban, 7. A family portrait was taken at the time to document their migration like so many who came through Ellis Island.
I am not sure who told me, as I questioned why Tia Cruz was not in the picture, but I was told that her madrina was taking care of 10-year old Cruz and brought her to America swimming across the Rio Grande. (If anyone knows different please advise)
Esteban’s historic account would tell of their life in Houston, Texas where the family settled until 1925. He chronologically told of the births of his siblings Carmen, Teodora, Ralph and Rosie Flora.
“Right after Tia Rosie was born some labor recruiters from Michigan talked my Dad into going to work in the sugar beet fields. They needed people like us because the nation was so prosperous that only the poor would work in the fields. At the time, we were not desperately poor, but my Dad believed them when they promised us we would make lots of money… So we packed our few belongings and went to the train station. I had notified my school the day before of our departure, and two of my teachers and some student friends were there to see us off. I thought we were going to board some “Pullman” cars, but to my embarrassment, they were regular “box” cars. They were equipped with wooden benches and canvas bags filled with straw as mattresses.”
It is hard to imagine this migration for many of us Diaz descendants, but the five-day travel by train “eating nothing but pork and beans and moldy bread” is how they arrived in Michigan. Croswell was their destination stop where a farmer presented them with poor living conditions that Uncle Steve equated to a “chicken coop.”
From Croswell, they later moved to Charlotte, Mich. in 1926. Daughter Lola was born in 1927 and somehow that year Grandpa Senobio heard that the Chevrolet Foundry in Saginaw, Mich., needed workers. He left with a friend the following day and they were hired as “iron pourers.”
That old Grey Iron plant, now named Saginaw Metal Casting Operations, is the reason the Diaz family came to Saginaw. They settled here and this is really home to the majority of us. This is where Grandma would have her last two babies, Fidel and Maria Adella (Uncle Fred and Aunt Della) to round out our beloved family.
I am so thankful for Esteban or Uncle Steve’s historical writings to his daughter Susie. Without it, we would probably only guess, or tell of our history orally. I can tell you with time a majority of oral history gets lost and only the significant moments like a “hanging” are remembered.
The letter Uncle Steve wrote in 1978 is like our family “Holy Grail” and we are so blessed to have it 34 years later. Hopefully, Diaz descendants will read about that “boxcar” journey in 2112 and beyond. Thank you Uncle for this amazing gift you left us.
The name is significant to Christians: according to the Book of Acts in the New Testament, Saint Stephen was a deacon who was stoned to death and is regarded as the first Christian martyr.
July 31, 2012 marked the 100th anniversary of the birth of José Esteban de Rancho Getrudis, in the state of Guanajuato, Mexico. To us, he was known as Uncle Steve, that gentle soul who always brought love to all who knew him.
He was the third child of Senobio and Cecilia and the first born in Piñicuaro, Guanajuato. His older siblings, José Vicente and Cruz, were born in nearby Huandacareo, in the state of Michoacán. It was said that Grandma Cecilia had two more children between 1912 and 1919, but they did not survive infancy. Esteban Diaz was the only child from Santa Getrudis, the homestead of Grandpa Senobio’s Diaz familia.
We are fortunate that Esteban was educated and could read and write in both Spanish and English. He left us a first-hand account of memories of his early life and the migration from Mexico to the United States, which is a beautiful historical account of our family beginnings.
“My Dad had come to the U.S. about 8 or 9 months before us as a political refuges after his Dad was hanged by the government troops as a revolutionary,” Esteban Diaz wrote in 1978 in a letter to his daughter Susan for a school project. “After having worked in the coal mines in Colorado and saving some money, he sent for us to come to El Paso, Texas, where he was waiting for us to join him in the land of “freedom and opportunity” as he put it. It was May or June of 1919, and I clearly remember my reaction at the sight of this beautiful land so different from ours.”
It was 1919, when 30-year old Cecilia Diaz, crossed that border legally to meet her husband with José Vicente 12, and Esteban, 7. A family portrait was taken at the time to document their migration like so many who came through Ellis Island.
I am not sure who told me, as I questioned why Tia Cruz was not in the picture, but I was told that her madrina was taking care of 10-year old Cruz and brought her to America swimming across the Rio Grande. (If anyone knows different please advise)
Esteban’s historic account would tell of their life in Houston, Texas where the family settled until 1925. He chronologically told of the births of his siblings Carmen, Teodora, Ralph and Rosie Flora.
“Right after Tia Rosie was born some labor recruiters from Michigan talked my Dad into going to work in the sugar beet fields. They needed people like us because the nation was so prosperous that only the poor would work in the fields. At the time, we were not desperately poor, but my Dad believed them when they promised us we would make lots of money… So we packed our few belongings and went to the train station. I had notified my school the day before of our departure, and two of my teachers and some student friends were there to see us off. I thought we were going to board some “Pullman” cars, but to my embarrassment, they were regular “box” cars. They were equipped with wooden benches and canvas bags filled with straw as mattresses.”
It is hard to imagine this migration for many of us Diaz descendants, but the five-day travel by train “eating nothing but pork and beans and moldy bread” is how they arrived in Michigan. Croswell was their destination stop where a farmer presented them with poor living conditions that Uncle Steve equated to a “chicken coop.”
From Croswell, they later moved to Charlotte, Mich. in 1926. Daughter Lola was born in 1927 and somehow that year Grandpa Senobio heard that the Chevrolet Foundry in Saginaw, Mich., needed workers. He left with a friend the following day and they were hired as “iron pourers.”
That old Grey Iron plant, now named Saginaw Metal Casting Operations, is the reason the Diaz family came to Saginaw. They settled here and this is really home to the majority of us. This is where Grandma would have her last two babies, Fidel and Maria Adella (Uncle Fred and Aunt Della) to round out our beloved family.
I am so thankful for Esteban or Uncle Steve’s historical writings to his daughter Susie. Without it, we would probably only guess, or tell of our history orally. I can tell you with time a majority of oral history gets lost and only the significant moments like a “hanging” are remembered.
The letter Uncle Steve wrote in 1978 is like our family “Holy Grail” and we are so blessed to have it 34 years later. Hopefully, Diaz descendants will read about that “boxcar” journey in 2112 and beyond. Thank you Uncle for this amazing gift you left us.
