TIME: Almanac 1995

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<text id=93TT0105> <title> Oct. 25, 1993: Slamming The Door </title> <history> TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1993 Oct. 25, 1993 All The Rage:Angry Young Rockers </history> <article> <source>Time Magazine</source> <hdr> IMMIGRATION, Page 34 Slamming The Door </hdr> <body> A border blockade in El Paso reduces crime but also threatens the region's fragile economic balance By RICHARD WOODBURY/EL PASO For many of the 540,000 residents of El Paso, Texas, life these past four weeks has been noticeably less stressful. They have enjoyed less traffic on their streets. They have been able to walk and drive through downtown without being accosted by panhandlers, windshield washers and purse-snatching kids. Crowds have been fewer in many stores and restaurants. This sudden change is the result of an unprecedented ironfisted blockade of the El Paso-Mexico border by the U.S. Border Patrol. Agents posted around the clock along a 20-mile stretch of the Rio Grande have virtually sealed off entry to illegal aliens, who used to stream into El Paso and adjacent New Mexico by the thousands from neighboring Ciudad Juarez. By scaring off Mexicans before they attempt to cross the river, agents have reduced their arrests from as many as 1,000 a day to an average of 135. El Paso officials envision giant savings in aliens' social costs--now 20% of the budget--if the border remains sealed. The crackdown has drawn overwhelming support from El Paso, which is itself 72% Hispanic. "The rampant criminal problems in our downtown are gone," boasted Mayor Larry Francis. "The majority of El Pasoans are stating that this should have been done long ago." Motorists tied green ribbons to their aerials and flashed their headlights at patrol vans. Observed Fred Morales, an activist in the crime-ridden Chihuahuita barrio: "The stabbings and shootings are down to zero. This is the best present we could ever get." No one was more pleased than the Border Patrol, whose new sector chief, Silvestre Reyes, devised the blockade and wangled $300,000 out of INS headquarters to provide overtime pay for 400 agents. The money ran out two weeks ago, but he is continuing the crackdown by shuttling agents in from as far off as Albuquerque. "We were chasing our tails before because the people we arrested at night would be out and back again the next day," Reyes explained. "For the first time now, there's a sense of security against the constant barrage of aliens." But many say Reyes' system works too well; by intercepting not only criminals but also many ordinary working people, they argue, the blockade threatens the region's fragile economic and social balance. Like other border cities, El Paso and Juarez rely on each other: El Paso for Mexican shoppers, Juarez for U.S. jobs. Relationships and families go back for generations. "The Mexicans are taking jobs that no one here is taking," says Henry King, a business researcher at the University of Texas at El Paso. He estimates that the shadow work force now shut out accounts for 30% of all sales in El Paso. Merchants on once thriving streets near the three international bridges complain that business has plummeted as much as 80%. "Do you see any customers?" asks retailer Adrian Tavera, standing amid towering piles of T shirts and slacks. "I'll be gone by Christmas if this keeps up." Says currency-exchange clerk Margie Barrientos: "The stealing is gone, but so are the shoppers." The harshest criticism comes from Juarez, where hundreds of protesters chanting "We want to work!" demonstrated on two bridges last month before they were dispersed by Mexican police. Business leaders have urged a boycott of U.S. stores, and cars are sporting bumper stickers reading if you want to be respected, stay away. "The blockade's message to Mexicans was `We don't like you,'" says Pablo Cuaron, president of COPARMEX-Juarez, a business association. "Feelings have been hurt." The furor could have an impact on the NAFTA treaty, whose boosters have showcased the traditional harmony between border communities. "Free trade? We've had it for years," says pawnbroker Saul Frank. "The blockade's a step back." INS officials sought to pacify angry critics last week by no longer calling it a blockade. Whatever it is called, approval for the crackdown in El Paso--as high as 85%--means that Reyes will probably maintain it unless he receives instructions from Washington to dismantle the program. To ease the economic burden, Roman Catholic bishops on both sides of the border last week urged a possible relaxation of the laws. One suggestion: granting temporary work permits to some Mexican day laborers and maids, so that they may cross the border for a limited period of time. Already, the blockade is spawning ingenious new methods to outwit the Border Patrol. Hundreds of aliens who used to wade the river are now trying to cross it on the bridges, with the help of phony documents; the INS reported a 300% jump in bogus papers. Recently, a group of young men discovered a maze of underground drainage culverts off the river and threaded their way through the dark, slimy reaches, emerging through manhole covers in downtown El Paso. A few were apparently running drugs, but others were intent on nothing more sinister than getting to gardening and handyman jobs on the American side. </body> </article> </text>