Shortly before noon on Saturday, February 10, 1979, on the 22nd day of the bitter lettuce strike, 28 year old striker Rufino Contreras and a half dozen fellow strikers walked onto a lettuce field owned by Mario Saikhon, in an effort to talk with a crew of about 75 scabs imported from outside the Imperial Valley.

When the approaching strikers were still about 80 feet away from the scabs, three armed company foremen, who had positioned themselves strategically on two flanks to trap the strikers, caught Rufino and the UFW workers in a vicious crossfire.

Rufino’s younger brother Jose Luis Contreras, also a Saikhon striker and a member of the delegation, said that the moment the shooting began, the strikers started scrambling back towards the public road. When Jose Luis turned around to see if his brother had made It to safety, he saw that Rufino was back in the lettuce field, lying with his face down in a muddy row.

Rufino’s father, Don Lorenzo Contreras, also a Saikhon worker, Jose Luis, and other strikers repeatedly attempted to re-enter the field to render aid to their fallen son, brother and co-worker.  They were kept at bay by the continuing gunfire of the foremen.  One striker counted 86 gunshots at the strikers.

The shooting went on for over an hour before the Sheriff showed up and called an ambulance, even though his office was only a ten-minute drive from the lettuce field.

Oscar Mondragon was sent to the hospital in El Centro to accompany the family.  Rufino died shortly after 2:00 p.m.

I went to the site of the shooting with instructions from Cesar to get all the strikers away from the area and to get them to return to El Hoyo, the strike headquarters 14 miles away in Calexico, where they were to await Cesar’s return from negotiations in L.A.  We knew the workers would be angry at the cold-blooded murder of Rufino and we wanted to prevent a bloodbath.

Though the strikers were outraged at the senseless killing, thankfully their respect and love for Cesar helped us convince them to stop the picket line and return to the strike staging area.

Then came the difficult part.  We needed to tell Rufino’s 25 year old wife, Rosa, that her husband was dead…and we knew she was in poor condition to survive such tragic news.

Rufino had not been to the picket line for several days because he was at his wife’s side, day and night, in the hospital where she was suffering from third degree burns over most of her body.  She had been burned badly in a domestic accident with a kerosene lamp at their home in Mexicali.  Rufino was a very loyal family man, but he also felt obligated to do his part for his larger family, his union. Jose Luis says that on Friday, February 9, “Rufino had just received the papers that his wife was eligible for the union’s medical insurance and he was showing them to his friends.  Like everybody, he was a good union member.  He was proud of it and that day he was very happy.”  So Rufino returned to the picket line on that terrible day, Saturday, February 10.

On Sunday February 11, the family finally decided that Rosa had to be told why her beloved husband had not been by her side the previous Saturday night.  Helen Chavez and other UFW leaders accompanied the family to the hospital to tell Rosa the tragic news.

She took it very hard, and in her sobbing grief, said that her heart had already told her something was very bad, because her husband was a good man who always put her and their two children first.  She said Rufino was a kind, gentle husband and father, never one to stay away drinking at bars all night, never abused her or the children, always there when they needed him the most, She had sensed something terrible had happened.

And then she insisted on being taken to the funeral home the next day, Monday February 12, to view Rufino’s body.  though we were afraid to do it because, in her terrible condition, she might go into shock, several of us accompanied Rosa and the Contreras family to the mortuary.  

Rosa was so badly burned that we had to take her in a wheelchair, wrapped in bandages and blankets.  When we wheeled her up to Rufino’s casket, the young widow broke our hearts, not simply with her grief, but with her courageous acceptance of her husband’s sacrifice.  We heard her say to Rufino, “Why did you leave me, my love? Fino, look at the condition I’m in.  What will I tell your children when they ask for their father?”

After several minutes we really feared for her, so Helen went up to Rosa and told her we should be going, that she had to be strong for the children.  Rosa understood, and in the midst of her grief, quieted her sobbing, and asked for a few more minutes.

In leaving Rufino that day, she spoke the most courageous words I have ever heard.  She said to her husband, “Vete tranquilo, mi amor.  Yo cuidare a tus hijos.”  (“Go in peace my love, I will take care of your children.”)

On Tuesday, February 13, Rufino’s father, Don Lorenzo Contreras, told me that Rufino was a good worker who, in 7 years had always done his best for Saikhon.  In the last two years, Rufino had not missed a single day of work as a lettuce cutter, even the precious year when he was ill with a bad case of the flu.

Often when Cesar would go to the Imperial Valley, Rufino would be one of the loyal UFW members who pulled all night security; still, after 5:00 a.m., Rufino would leave to show up for the arduous, all day job cutting lettuce.  

Don Lorenzo, who as a bracero had suffered the indignities, injustices, and discrimination of the hated system, said he didn’t want revenge for his son’s life.  He simply wanted justice; he simply asked that the three foremen and the growers responsible be given a fair trial.

The three foremen were quickly released on $5000 bond.

Soon thereafter, Judge Lenhardt, whose wife was part of a group of 300 grower’s wives, lawyers wives, and Anglo high school kids, recruited supposedly to save the lettuce harvest being struck by 5,000 highly skilled, professional lettuce workers, the same judge, claiming to be unbiased, refused to try the three foremen because he said there was no way to prove which of the three had fired the fatal bullet.

On Wednesday, February 14, “el dia de los enamorados” (Valentines’s Day), Rosa, her children, Don Lorenzo and the Contreras family were joined by 9,000 farm workers and supporters, including Governor Jerry Brown, to bury Rufino at the cemetery North of Calexico.

Prior to the burial, an outdoor Mass “de cuerpo presente” (with the closed casket) was celebrated at El Hoyo.

Throughout the service, Rosa, in her wheelchair, clutched their 5-year-old son, Julio Cesar, crying into his shoulder as if he were a man.  The little boy simply stood quietly, embracing his mother. Nancy Berenice, the Contreras’ 4 year old daughter, stood nearby with Rufino’s father, mother and other relatives.

We had roped off an area for the media and journalists near the front to give them access to the service, but also to keep them under control because, jaded by so much tragedy they report, they had been cold and intrusive during the period of mourning.

On Saturday evening, for example, when Cesar had returned from LA to El Hoyo, he and Don Lorenzo were in a tearful embrace, crying over Rufino’s senseless murder and the reporters were shoving microphones into their faces.  We wanted to prevent that insensibility at the funeral.

At the end of the service, little Julio Cesar’s grandmother quietly took him by the hand and escorted him up to the front, where the flag-draped casket was, to say goodbye to his father.  The child broke into uncontrolled sobs and cries of “..mi papa, mi papa, mi papa…” that touched the hearts of the thousands gathered to honor Rufino.  There wasn’t a dry eye, even among the several dozen hardened reporters present.

February 10, 1979, was a day of infamy for Farm Workers.  It was a day without hope.  It was a day without joy.  The sun didn’t shine.  The birds didn’t sing. The rain didn’t fall.

Why was this such a day of evil? Because on this day greed and injustice struck down our brother Rufino Contreras.

What is the worth of a man? What is the worth of a Farm Worker? Rufino and his father and his bother together gave the company 20 years of their labor.  They were faithful workers who helped build up the wealth of their boss, helped build up the wealth of his ranch.

What was their reward for their service and their sacrifice? When they petitioned for a more just share of what they themselves produce, when they spoke out against the injustice they endured, the company answered them with bullets.  The company sent hired guns to quiet Rufino Contreras.

Capital and labor together produce the fruit of the land.  But what really counts is labor.  The human beings who torture their bodies, sacrifice their youth, and numb their spirits to produce this great agricultural wealth.  A wealth so vast that it feeds all of America and much of the world.  And yet, the men, women, and children who are the flesh and blood of this production often do not have enough to feed themselves.

But we are here today to say that true wealth is not measured in money or status or power.  It is measured in the legacy that we leave behind for those we love and those we inspire.

In that sense, Rufino is not dead.  Wherever Farm Workers organize, stand up for their rights, and struggle for justice, Rufino Contreras is with them.

Rufino lives among us.  It is those who have killed him, and those who have conspired to kill him, that have died.  Because the love, the compassion, the light in their hearts has been stilled.

Why do we say that Rufino still lives? Because those of us who mourn him today, and bring him to his rest, rededicate ourselves to the ideals for which he gave his life.  Rufino lives insofar as we continue to build a union that will someday bring justice to all farm workers.

If Rufino were alive today, what would he tell us? He would tell us, “Don’t be afraid.  Don’t be discouraged.  “He would tell us, don’t cry for me. Organize.”

This is a day of sorrow, but it is also a day of hope.  It is a time of sadness because our friend and brother is dead.  It is a time of hope because we are certain that Rufino today enjoys the justice in heaven denied him on earth.  “Greater love hath no man than this that he give up his life for his friends.”

It is our mission to finish the work Rufino has begun among us, knowing that the justice for ourselves and for our opponents is only possible before God, who is the final judge.