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THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
Thursday, May 16, 1968
Mennonites in Mexico
They thumb nose at'68
By Beth Gaeddert
The date on the blackboard says "April 9, 1968."
But everything else in the one-room school gives the impression that the date is April 9, 1768. Six rows of boys dressed in bib overalls and home-made shirts sit at long wooden benches and desks on the left side of the room while four rows of girls in dark cotton dresses worn to their ankles, with aprons, gray stockings and braided hair covered by nets, sit on the right side of the room.
Their day at school will be not unlike one their ancestors experienced in Holland, Switzerland and Germany more than 200 years ago.
These children are Old Colony Mennonites living in Mexico.
They live on the land their grandfathers settled in the 1920s when they came from Canada because the Canadian government insisted that all schools be conducted in English. These Old Colony Mennonites have kept their strange dialect of Low German through the years believing God spoke German and, therefore, making the language a fundamental part of their religion which dictates their lives.
The story of the Mennonites is one of wandering from continent to continent and country to country in pursuit of religious freedom, and more recently for economic reasons and simply to escape more modern societies.
Mennonites trace their origins to the 1530's. They got their name from one of the early Anabaptists' leaders, Menno Simmons, a Catholic priest in Holland who broke from the Dutch Reform church to lead these people in the beliefs such as pacifism, not taking oaths, separation of church and state and believer's baptism.
More than 30,000 Mennonites live in more than 100 villages in the high arid San Antonio Valley of northern Mexico that they have turned into amazingly productive farm land.
The teacher in this village school, like all the other village teachers, has had no formal training. He may be a man who has no other means of supporting himself. He doesn't own any land. He may be a cow-herder in the village communal pasture in the summer and a teacher in the winter.
His house may be built onto the school. Because the Old Colony Mennonites believe there is no greater virtue than to be a hard-working tiller of the soil, a man without land does not rank in the village. Sitting behind a desk is simply not considered work.
The school children go through four grades, learning from a German primer the first, catechism lessons the second, the New Testament the third and the Bible the fourth year. Boys go to school until they are 12 years old and girls until they are 13. All the while, they are being trained at home in the same domestic and farming skills their grandparents used.
This simple education seems to be the main reason the Old Colony people are not dying out. Originally about 11,000 of them settled in the valley near what has become the town of Cuauhtehmoc, about 75 miles west of Chihuahua, 250 miles south of El Paso, Tex.
These villages are arranged in the same manner as earlier Mennonite villages in Russia and Canada. Each house faces a single wide street. Most have apple orchards and gardens in their large yards. A four-foot-high adobe fence runs in front of the houses. The houses, made of native adobe brick, usually have sheet metal roofs.
An average farm of 150 acres is worked by tractor in most villages although some still ban gasoline-powered engines. Even rubber tires remain a good cause for excommunication from some village churches. The northern-most colonies founded by Menonites who came from Canada in 1926, a few years later than the original group, are more liberal and even allow cars.
"Things of the world" are what these Old Colony Mennonites shun, although the inconsistencies in this attitude are becoming even more evident. It is hard for them to separate what is of the outside world and what is needed to produce a good crop, work hard, stay healthy and most of all isolated.
One conservative group is leaving for Bolivia, where they hope to escape the "worldliness" of Mexico and the temptations that distract their youth. They will sacrifice large farms they have built from nothing, lose possessions that cannot be shipped and
See They, page 13
Labor Commissioner Delno
"COMO ESTA USTED"
Floyd E. Black is the long-time executive secretary-treasurer of the Kansas State Federation of Labor with headquarters in Topeka.
Black figures that labor was 95 per cent effective in the last legislative session, mostly in killing the unwanted bills of the 200 pieces of legislation in which labor was "keenly interested."
Kansan photo by Beth Gaeddert
This girl is one of several students in a Mennonite school in the San Antonio Valley in northern Mexico. She is being taught Spanish toenable her to communicate with the Mexicans around her. There are about 30,000 German-speaking Mennonites living the valley, most of whom came from Canada.
Labor lobbyists seek 'Truth,' do not try to propagandize
"I don't try to propagandize; I just try to be truthful at all times," says one of Kansas' 10 registered labor lobbyists. "I can get a bill passed and still lose—it all depends on who I made mad."
By Pat Pruitt
The main offensive of labor lobbyists is a surprisingly simple one: Truth.
In a survey of several lobbyists and labor leaders in Topeka and Greater Kansas City, the main concern seemed to be relaying the facts—both to legislators and to the membership of unions, which at least theoretically comprise a labor vote block.
Equally surprising is the preponderance of social and educational legislation under labor's wing, in comparison to the quantity of actual "labor" bills.
Bass lent weight to Black's comment that "we're the one group interested in everything that goes on-health, education, welfare, social legislation."
In fact, most of the legislation supported by labor is not precisely "labor" legislation.
Bass reflected, "One thing about labor—they support good legislation. Most of it is not directly concerned with organized labor. The strongest supported areas are education, agriculture, and minorities. The great division some people think there is between labor and worker really isn't there.
"Black never lies," Bass added,
"either wav, it affects him."
One of Black's counterparts from Kansas City, Mo., is Harlan Moody Murry, executive secretary of Labor's Educational and Political Club, Independent, representing 60 organized groups.
Murry, one of the half dozen labor lobbyists out of Missouri's more than 400 registered lobbyists, also had an excellent season.
His own success and the success of lobbying in general, Murry says, lies in the lobbyist's own personality and the trust he has established as a friend among the legislators.
ONLY ONE HORSEPOWER
Photo by Beth Gaeddert
This Mennonite family, one of thousands now living in the high, arid San Antonio Valley of northern Mexico, is traveling to the small town of Cuauhtemoc for supplies. The horse and buggy is still the most common means of transportation for these people. However, in recent years more liberal Mennonites have begun using cars and buses to travel to and from town.
Murry, a former high school teacher and coach, told of a long-time legislator-friend calling him one evening and telling of quantities of mail from his home district opposing the current labor-supported legislation. What should he do?
Murry answered, "Why, man, I don't see what else you can do but vote against that bill. It won't do anybody any good if you lose the next election."
Labor's other "tactics" at the legislature are conciliatory also. When harassed and hurried legislators need more information concerning bills in which labor is interested, they can turn to a ready resource—labor lobbies.
If the lobbyists themselves do not testify at committee hearings or provide written facts, they can find nonpartisans, such as Commissioner Bass, who will testify. Informational bulletins concerning labor's stand on certain bills are distributed regularly also.
Lobbying is probably the most effective tactic of labor as a political activist. But labor has not stopped its extensive grassroots educational programs and registration drives, which aims for a directed voting block.
United Auto Workers area director Carl Stevens said dataprocessing is used in registering the 15,000 members of that union in Greater Kansas City. At election time, three to four per cent of the membership are on the streets as precinct workers.
Most unions have registration drives of varying intensities, Stevens said.
But the real drive is in educating the membership on the homefront. Although a labor ballot with endorsed candidates is issued, labor usually does not publicly endorse anyone, but rather indicates to the membership what candidates and policies would be most favorable to the working man. This explanation usually rests largely upon voting records of candidates.
Like the lobbyists, the unions are essentially non-partisan. "We have friends on both sides," they say.
In fact, it is difficult to find a legislator who has a straight-labor record. And it is usually equally difficult to find a rank and file unionist who does not react to cross-influences other than his local president.
Two building trade locals in Topeka reported 75 per cent and 80 per cent registration and voting, with what the business agents presumed to be a fairly close follow-up on union recommendations.
See Labor, page 13