9-9-99: The Day San José’s Mexican Community Finally Came Home
Part 11: Opening Day
From Silicon Valley Latino
The spirits of the 66 Mexicans who founded San José in 1777 were standing on the balcony, clapping. Antonio Chaboya stood next to them along with the miners from New Almaden, the families displaced by urban renewal, the dancers from the Palomar Ballroom. Todos Juntos with the community. In Part 11 of Raíces — Our Story, Our Narrative, Eddie García takes us to September 9, 1999 — the day they all came home.
Missed Part 10? Read The Dream Comes True: 300 People, 46 Degrees, and Four Decades of Fighting Finally Break Ground. Start from the beginning with Part 1: The Prologue.
Authors Note
It had been 12 years since Mayor Tom McEnery and Councilwoman Blanca Alvarado wrote the memorandum that kicked off the metaphorical roller coaster of twists, turns, climbs, drops, and climbs again that was the MHPG project. There was the photo-op with Congressman Louis Stokes and the million dollars that came with it. There were attacks by Chicano activists, followed by the Mercury News raising questions about the MHC’s leadership. Nevertheless, the dream endured with resilience and perseverance.
The MHC board selected September 9, 1999 – “9-9-99” – for the grand opening, 21 months after breaking ground on that “awfully cold day.” Fighting the city continued throughout construction. The MHC wanted quality materials that authentically reflected Mexican culture. The city wanted to cut corners. As those tense discussions continued, steel beams rose on the empty lot on the historic corner of Alum Rock and King. The tile, stucco, and colorful paint soon followed.
The MHC and the East Side community anticipated a brilliant September day. The gods had other plans. A rare storm roared into San José late in the evening on September 8th. The MHC board was anxious that the storm would disrupt the grand opening festivities. MHC President Pete Carrillo confidently declared, “We’ve come this far. We’re not going to let a little rain dampen our celebration.”
Today’s excerpt, from Chapter 17 (9-9-99) of Mexican Heritage Plaza: A Symbol of Resilience and Perseverance, tells the story of how the MHC overcame all obstacles to celebrate the Mexican Heritage Plaza Grand Opening. It is the 11th installment in a 12-part series for SVL’s Raíces — Our Story, Our Narrative. The book is available in paperback and on Kindle at Amazon: amazon.com — Mexican Heritage Plaza.
Mexican Heritage Plaza: A Symbol of Resilience and Perseverance
by Eddie García
Chapter 17
9-9-99
Hurricane Greg roared through Baja California on September 6, 1999. The Category 1 hurricane destroyed hundreds of homes and damaged roadways. Thousands of people were injured, and at least ten died from the resulting floods and winds. In a once-every-two-decade occurrence, traces of the storm that battered México triggered an intense thunderstorm and lightning in San José on September 8.
The majestic display of sound and fire in the sky generated impressive multi-branched lightning bolts that caused power outages in North San José and surrounding communities. Although rain fell during the night of September 8 and the early morning of September 9, a local news outlet called the overnight storm “more fury than substance.”
photo credit School of Arts and Culture at MHP
In Aztec mythology, Tlaloc was the god of rain, lightning, and thunder. Tlaloc means “he who makes things sprout.” The rain Tlaloc brought to the Valley of México was life-giving, ensuring that the Aztecs had bountiful crops and waterways full of fish. The Mayan god of thunder, lightning, and rain was called Chaac. Holding a lightning axe in his right hand, Chaac struck the clouds so that the booming sound and bright lights would alert all that he was present in his power and majesty.
It was as if the electrical storm that hovered over San José on September 8, 1999, was Chaac announcing his arrival on the tail of Hurricane Greg and Tlaloc dropping his nourishing water on MHPG to bless the cultural arts center on its grand opening.
By daybreak on September 9, 1999, Greg’s remnants became a drizzle. By 10:00 am, crowds had begun gathering outside the south gate facing the parking lot, excitedly waiting for MHC officials and other VIPs to cut the ribbons. Political friends and foes alike shook hands, hugged, and patted each other on the back as a celebratory atmosphere enveloped the corner of Alum Rock Avenue and King Road.
At 11:00 am sharp, a member of the Tlaloc Chalchihuitlicue Aztec dance troupe proudly stood in the center of the plaza and blew into a conch shell that Aztecs called a quiquiztli. The booming, haunting sound that came from the shell was a traditional Aztec call from the ancestors.
On this sunny September morning, the quiquiztli summoned guests to gather at the four gates for a ribbon-cutting ceremony.
Once in the plaza, Father José Rubio, a beloved Catholic priest who had served in East San José for many years, gave the invocation. The quiquiztli summons and the Catholic invocation were a symbolic nod to the indigenous and European roots that embody the Mexican spirit. After speeches by a handful of distinguished guests, Blanca Alvarado delivered the keynote. She brought to life recognition of the city’s Mexican roots that had been dismissed and ignored for over 200 years. When Alvarado completed her address, everyone in attendance stood up for a rousing standing ovation, complete with shouts of “¡Viva Blanca!”
photo credit: Mexican Heritage Corporation
The ghosts of the 66 Mexicans who settled on the eastern bank of the Guadalupe River in 1777 may have been standing and clapping on the balcony in front of the second-floor offices. Maybe Francisco Javier Antonio Chaboya, the Mexican landowner who lost 90% of his 24,000-acre rancho to squatters and unscrupulous lawyers, proudly stood next to them, applauding.
The spirits of miners at New Almaden Quicksilver Mines, who came from Sonora, México, to build a community on the side of a hill, and the Mexican agricultural workers who fed the world by picking crops in the Valley of Hearts Delight, surely must have been cheering on the balcony as well. The souls of the burgeoning Mexican and Mexican American middle-class who lost their homes and businesses to urban renewal must have been dancing on the veranda, cheering that history would remember them.
As the ovation continued at the newly minted Mexican Heritage Plaza, San José’s Mexican and Mexican American community claimed its rightful place after two centuries of being left out. The ghosts and the living gathered at the corner of Alum Rock Avenue and King Road on September 9, 1999. It had been a long journey. The Mexican Heritage Plaza was a symbol of the resilience and perseverance that characterized the 220-year pilgrimage to this place.
They all had come home.
Get the Book
Mexican Heritage Plaza: A Symbol of Resilience and Perseverance by Eddie García is available in paperback and on Kindle.
Purchase on Amazon: amazon.com — Mexican Heritage Plaza
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Also in Raíces — Our Story, Our Narrative
The Dream Comes True: 300 People, 46 Degrees, and Four Decades of Fighting Finally Break Ground
Gun-metal gray skies. Forty-six degrees. Three hundred people huddled together on an open lot in East San José. December 13, 1997. Eddie García takes us to the morning four decades of dreaming finally broke ground. Part 10 of Raíces — Our Story, Our Narrative.
Show Me the Money: How the Mexican Heritage Plaza Got Funded Against All Odds
$30,000 from a community appeal. Less than 3% of what was needed. Eddie García documents how community members with persistence, tenacity, and an unshakeable belief took the dream all the way to Congress. Part 9 of Raíces — Our Story, Our Narrative.
¡Viva El Mariachi! How a Festival in a Cramped Office Became the Dream’s First Victory
Five people. One office. 1988. That is where the Mexican Heritage Plaza began. Eddie García documents how the Mexican Heritage Corporation turned four decades of rejection into a $153,000 mariachi festival victory. Part 8 of Raíces — Our Story, Our Narrative.
Sergio Domeyko
Publisher
Co-Founder, COO & Publisher of Silicon Valley Latino, covering Latino business and culture across the Bay Area and beyond since 2011.