Jobs in the balance
Do illegal workers help or hurt the U.S. economy?
Monday, September 8, 2008 2:54 AM
By Todd Jones

THE COLUMBUS DISPATCH

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Oklahoma's tough immigration law has Jose, a chef in Tulsa, Okla., thinking about returning to Mexico after 12 years in the United States


Hispanic workers, such as these homebuilders, keep Oklahoma's economy churning but backers of Oklahoma's tough law say such laborers take jobs from Americans.

Taking the lead
Last year, states enacted 240 immigration laws -- nearly triple the total of 2006. The toughest law took effect in Oklahoma, and Ohio now has a bill pending that would mimic that crackdown.

TULSA, Okla. -- Fluid teamwork is necessary in the hot, cramped kitchen of a mom-and-pop restaurant near an interstate ramp.

A tangle of brown faces -- head chef Jose, his wife, parents, two brothers and sister -- cooked the American comfort food in the humid hive.

In the middle of the controlled chaos stood Teri Kidd, the white owner of the restaurant, basking in the sweet smell of freshly baked rolls.

"They're not just workers," she said of her busy employees. "They've been with me eight years, and they're like our family."

Yet, wedged into the close business relationship is an Oklahoma immigration law considered the nation's toughest -- and a model for legislation in other states, including Ohio.

The Dispatch is not using full names of illegal immigrants or identifying their workplaces because federal authorities have indicated they might deport anyone identified by the newspaper.

The crackdown left Jose's family -- none of them legal U.S. residents -- considering whether to flee the state.

"They're all ready to leave," Jose said.

And that worries Kidd, a self-proclaimed proud, conservative Republican.

"If they have to leave, it'll probably shut my business down," she said. "I won't be able to get help. Americans, we live off the back of immigrants."

Supporters of Oklahoma's immigration law dismiss such comments, but the state's business leaders teamed with the U.S. Chamber of Commerce to file a lawsuit to overturn it.

In June, a federal judge issued a preliminary injunction blocking part of the law set to take effect July 1 that would have required employers to verify a worker's residency status. A federal appeals court eventually will decide the constitutionality of the Oklahoma law.

If Ohio lawmakers look to Oklahoma for answers about how to enact immigration reform, they'll find business reaction murky at best.

Oklahoma's Commerce Department hasn't yet released data related to the law, and the state treasurer's office reports no clear trend in sales-tax collections since it took effect last November.

Boarded-up windows of abandoned businesses dot parts of East Tulsa, where the city's Hispanic Chamber of Commerce estimates that 25,000 Latinos have left in the past year.

And yet the U.S. Department of Labor reported that Oklahoma's unemployment rate dropped more than 1 point to 3.1 percent from May 2007 to March 2008. Only three other states had a lower jobless rate.

"(The law) has freed up jobs for U.S. citizens. Wage-and-benefit rates have risen," said state Rep. Randy Terrill, who wrote Oklahoma's immigration law.

Some economists credit Oklahoma's low unemployment to the booming oil-based economy and minimal effects from the national housing crisis, not the immigration law.

In March, the Oklahoma Bankers Association estimated that if 50,000 immigrants left Oklahoma, the state would lose about $1.8 billion annually in wages and productivity. Terrill called the report flawed.

"I'm comfortable with the study we did, but we don't view our study as the end-all or be-all," said Kyle Dean, president of the Economic Impact Group in Edmond, Okla., which conducted the study. "We view it as a beginning of the discussion."

No such studies were conducted while Terrill's legislation sailed through the Oklahoma legislature.

"For whatever reason, the business community remained silent on this and didn't think it would affect them," said state Sen. Harry Coates, the lone Republican who voted against the law. "What they didn't realize is we'd also run off workers who are legally here. That's the kicker."

Last year, the Report of the Task Force on Oklahoma Illegal Immigration Issues -- a body created by the state Senate to study the issue -- said there will be no net increase in native-born workers ages 25 to 54.

"We're definitely hurting for workers," said Paul Kane, executive vice president of the Home Builders Association of Greater Tulsa. "We were experiencing somewhat of a labor shortage even before (the immigration law) happened."

Just as the law came between Terri Kidd and her restaurant work force, Oklahomans remain divided on whether undocumented workers fill a void in workplaces or cause one.

The home-framing business is good for John Tillman, but he's worried that Oklahoma's immigration law could cut into his profits.

"If half my crew leaves, it would really put a hurting on me," said Tillman, owner of a construction company.

Nearby, his labor crew was busy building a house in an upscale neighborhood in Edmond, north of Oklahoma City.

Eight men sawed and hammered under a hot sun.

Seven were Hispanic.

"I can't find any white guys who want to work," said Tillman, 41, who is white. "I'll try them out. They show up for a couple of days and won't come back."

Back in Tulsa, such a comment made Ron Dampf grind his teeth.

"That's baloney," the retired construction company owner said. "You can find American citizens. You pay those workers a living wage, and they'll knock your door down to work for you. Who reaps the benefit of illegal (immigrants)? The greedy contractor."

Dampf, 60, closed his construction business, Commercial Systems, and retired in January. Job contracts kept going to other companies that Dampf said were able to underbid him by using undocumented workers for cheap labor.

Four years ago, Commercial Systems had 32 employees. Dampf refused to hire illegal immigrants.

Last year, his company had four employees.

"This isn't about race," he said. "It's not about being a bigot. It's the simple fact that these contractors are breaking laws and taking advantage of (immigrants) as slave labor. I heard a contractor say, 'If one gets hurt, I send him back to Mexico and go get another one.'

"My grandfather, my father and I worked like dogs in a trade that was prideful and profitable. Now, I don't have a dog in the fight."

Some proponents of Oklahoma's immigration law frame their fight against illegal immigration in more than monetary terms.

"It's about the immorality of employing cheap, illegal alien, slave labor," Terrill said. "It boils down to big business and the chambers of commerce are trying to preserve a pool of illegal immigrant labor to keep the costs low."

That's a myth, countered the Home Builders Association of Greater Tulsa.

"The truth is, I've talked to dozens of builders who say their guys are not getting sub-minimum wage," said Kane, the association's chief executive. "They're paying 10 to 12 dollars (an hour) to sweep floors.

"The only reason labor costs go up is because of supply and demand. That's Economics 101," he said. "It's easy to go around throwing inflammatory rhetoric and accusations."

Farmers in the western part of Oklahoma don't need rhetoric. They need workers.

Even before the law, a drought of workers caused Bob Ramming to switch his farm this year from watermelons -- his primary crop the previous 15 years -- to wheat and soybeans, crops that can be harvested by machinery.

"You cannot get American citizens to do this kind of work," Ramming said. "You can advertise and do whatever you want, but they're not going to work out in the fields, in the heat."

Plaza Santa Cecilia, once a vibrant gathering place for Latinos in East Tulsa, looked like a carcass of failing commerce in April, less than a year after it had brimmed with businesses.

"After the law, everything has come crashing down," said Simon Navarro, owner of a pharmacy and money-wiring shop in Plaza Santa Cecilia. "Everybody wants to sell their business."

Navarro, 54, refuses to leave even though his pharmacy sales are down 50 percent and his wire-service customers, who generally send money to family in their homelands, have dropped from 500 to about 250 in the past year.

Others in the mall wonder if they can be so resilient.

"My business has dropped 80 percent," said Maria Rivas, owner of Peluqueria Lupita beauty shop. "People have left (Tulsa), and the people who stayed here, they have fear of stepping out. They don't want to spend money because they might need to leave."

The Greater Tulsa Hispanic Chamber of Commerce estimates that up to 25,000 immigrants have left Tulsa County, causing business to drop about 40 percent in general in Latino communities.

"When the state passes a law that runs away your customers, you end up suffering," said chamber executive director Francisco Trevino.

The chef at Kidd's restaurant, a few miles from the mall, knows all too well about how Oklahoma's law affected some businesses.

Jose, the head chef, has made enough money working the past eight years at the restaurant that he could afford to own three cars and three homes in Tulsa.

"I hear (Fox News commentator) Bill O'Reilly and people say we pay them $2 or $3 an hour. That's a lie," Kidd said. "Jose makes as much money as does my husband, who's in the construction business making $15 an hour."

While living in the shadows, Jose has spent more than $5,000 trying to adjust his legal status since coming from Mexico in 1996.

"The U.S. gives me work, but it doesn't give me a chance to fix my papers," he said. "Who doesn't want to be legal? All Hispanics want to be legal, but we need opportunities to change our status and become legal."

Undeterred, Jose and his brother invested $49,000 to open their own Tulsa restaurant, El Fogon Caf, in August 2007.

Bad timing.

Oklahoma's immigration law took effect three months later, causing thousands of potential customers to flee.

Jose and his brother closed their restaurant in February and cut back from working two full-time jobs to their one at Kidd's restaurant.

"When the law passed, the dream broke, and everything went into the garbage can," Jose said.

Now all of his family is considering moving to Mexico.

And that could leave his boss scrambling.

"What am I going to do for a work force?" Kidd asked. "The Hispanic community does labor that Americans don't want to do. We're spoiled. You want to go back and work on that hot grill and do dishes?"

Free-lance photographer Leonardo Carrizo served as interpreter for interviews with Spanish-speaking sources.
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