Los Angeles Times (California)
By Tina Susman
March 30, 2015
When
Mike McMahon's Latino employees need to go to the bank, the pharmacy or
the grocery store, he makes sure someone drives them to town, waits
while they run errands,
and then brings them safely back to his dairy farm.
Even
then, there is no guarantee law enforcement in their small, rural
community won't spot the workers, ask for their IDs, and put them on a
path toward deportation if
they cannot prove they are here legally. It is a risk that dairy
farmers in this agricultural region have faced for years, but it is
hitting them harder as immigration reform languishes in Washington and
the nation's demand for milk-heavy products like Greek
yogurt soars.
"It's just crazy," said McMahon, who has several hundred cows at his farm more than 200 miles north of New York City.
"I'm a lifelong Republican," he said, shaking his head. "But I'm telling you, there are days when I think about switching."
Most people think of border and immigration issues as happening in the Southwest, but it's a real issue up here.
McMahon
and other dairy farmers in central and upstate New York are in a
quandary. On one hand, farms have thrived because of several factors,
including the popularity
of yogurt in recent years and drought in other milk-producing
countries. At the same time, they are battling to find the reliable,
year-round labor that 24/7 milking operations require.
Locals
won't do the dirty, manual jobs, farmers say, and immigration laws
limit farmers to importing only seasonal agricultural employees. That
does not help dairy farmers,
who need year-round workers.
"The
nation's food system is at risk if we can't get this fixed," McMahon
said one chilly day as scores of cows stood placidly in his farm's
milking parlor, which was
pungent with the smell of manure. Workers went up and down the rows,
checking to see that cows' teats were attached to the metal milking
machines.
Last
month, Dean Norton, a dairy farmer who is president of the New York
Farm Bureau, traveled to Washington to argue for reform, including a
guest-worker program catering
to dairy farmers. At this point, though, given the partisan divide in
Washington, few people expect to see change any time soon.
"Less
than 15%, and that's probably a high number," Norton said when asked
the chances of dairy farmers getting help from lawmakers.
The
dairy farmers have seen some relief lately because of a slowdown in
milk demand. They attribute this to several things, including the
stronger dollar, which makes
U.S. milk more expensive to overseas buyers, and stockpiles of milk
from China. But fluctuations in milk prices and demand are cyclical, and
Norton said as long as things like cottage cheese and yogurt grow in
popularity, so will dairy farmers' labor woes.
Without
new immigration laws, he and other farmers say, the nation will lose
dairy producers, because farmers will switch to growing crops whose
workers are eligible for
temporary guest-worker visas.
"The
U.S. dairy industry absolutely cannot survive without this," said Dale,
a dairy farmer who has moved toward robotic milking to avoid the labor
problem. Like many
dairy farmers, he did not want his full name or his farm's name used
because he was concerned that immigration officials would target his
business.
Robotics
are too expensive for most farmers; each machine costs about $250,000.
They also cannot do the tasks that farmers say humans must handle,
including cleaning teats
and udders, and basic farm maintenance.
The
problem has simmered for years, but it became more urgent with the
Greek yogurt boom since yogurt maker Chobani's arrival in upstate New
York in 2005. Seven years
later, New York was the nation's yogurt capital, surpassing California
to become the No. 1 producer. That success was fueled in large part by
the demand for Greek yogurt, which is denser and creamier than regular
yogurt.
"You've
got to have really, really good milk. That's the key to great yogurt,"
Chobani spokesman Michael Gonda said as he led a visitor through the
Chobani factory in
the hamlet of New Berlin.
In
a 150,000-square-foot warehouse, which is kept at a steady 34 degrees,
more than 1.5 million cases of yogurt in flavors ranging from the usual,
like strawberry and
blueberry, to the unusual, like green tea, waited to be shipped to
retailers. Machines worked at dizzying speeds, slapping labels on white
yogurt cups that made their way via conveyor belts into filling rooms.
There, more machines squirted fruit into each
cup and topped the fruit with dollops of creamy, white yogurt.
Chobani
is now one of more than 40 yogurt producers in the state, and it is by
far the largest. In 2000, the state had about 14 yogurt processing
plants.
Dairy
farmers say the yogurt boom has been a blessing. "It happened
overnight," said Dale, who watched the state's dairy industry shrink
through the 1980s and '90s. "All
of a sudden, New York had all these great yogurt things going on."
He and McMahon said they tried to stick to local labor but succumbed to hiring migrant workers as their workloads increased.
Both
men, and Norton, blame the problem more on attitudes than on economics.
McMahon, for example, said his farmworkers all started at $2,000 a
month and get a three-bedroom
house plus utilities and other benefits. Even so, McMahon said attempts
to hire locals have failed.
"Nobody
wants to go out there and deal with cows and get manure up their
sleeves," said McMahon, who once advertised three straight weeks to find
workers. Three locals
applied, and only one worked out, he said. He now depends on Latino
workers, most of them members of an extended family from Mexico.
Keeping
them safe from immigration is a constant concern. Anyone obviously
foreign-born sticks out in these largely white communities. The area is
about 100 miles from
the U.S.-Canada border, and there is a 360-bed immigration detention
center in the region.
Mary
Jo Dudley, who heads the Cornell Farmworker Program at Cornell
University, said in a report in October that the state would need more
than 2,200 additional farmworkers
and about 100,000 more cows to ensure the steady production of
sufficient milk to satisfy yogurt makers' needs.
"Most
people think of border and immigration issues as happening in the
Southwest, but it's a real issue up here," said Dudley, who regularly
visits dairy farms and hears
stories from farmers and their workers about the latest detentions and
scares.
McMahon
told of one trusted worker, Antonio, who got word from his wife in
Mexico that their young son had a brain tumor. He was desperate to visit
them, so McMahon gave
him some cash, wished him luck and let him go. Antonio was caught in
Brownsville, Texas. By the time he was deported, his son had died.
McMahon
hasn't seen Antonio since and does not expect to, because of the cost
of hiring coyotes to guide people over the southern border.
"I pray to God Jeb Bush is our next president," McMahon said, "because he's married to a Mexican woman. He gets it."
For more information, go to: www.beverlyhillsimmigrationlaw.com
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