They first came to San Benito County guided by the same ideals
as immigrants from other countries: a better life and more
opportunities for themselves and their families. One hundred and
thirty years later, Portuguese-Americans haven’t forgotten their
roots and celebrate their heritage in a myriad of ways, through
food, family gatherings and the annual
”
festa,
”
a celebration which marks the birth of Isabell, the patron saint
of Portugal.
Hollister – They first came to San Benito County guided by the same ideals as immigrants from other countries: a better life and more opportunities for themselves and their families. One hundred and thirty years later, Portuguese-Americans haven’t forgotten their roots and celebrate their heritage in a myriad of ways, through food, family gatherings and the annual “festa,” a celebration which marks the birth of Isabell, the patron saint of Portugal.
Some 2,000 people who identify themselves as Portuguese live in San Benito County, according to the 2000 Census. Many are descendants of the first immigrants who arrived in the county in the late 1800s to work in the hay fields and the whaling industry on the Central Coast. Half a century later, they were joined by another group of immigrants, many fleeing a volcano that had decimated their livelihoods.
The first Portuguese immigrants became ranchers and farmers, just like they had been in their home country.
One of them was Antone Rodrigues, a young man from the island of Faial, one of nine islands that make up the Azores archipelago located between Europe and North America. Rodrigues crossed the Atlantic by boat in the late 1800s, settled in San Benito and eventually bought property off Prune Road where he started an egg-selling business and planted an apricot and plum orchard. He married a Portuguese-American woman and started a family. Today, his grandson Ron Rodrigues, a life-long resident of Hollister and former county supervisor, carries Antone’s legacy.
Rodrigues doesn’t speak the language nor has he visited his family’s homeland of the Azores. But he stays connected to the community though his membership in the Portuguese Lodge, which has over 350 members and is one of the gathering points for Portuguese descendants in the county.
On Christmas and during the “festa,” always held on Pentecost Sunday, Rodrigues feasts on “sopa,” a traditional beef dish served over bread and covered with a steaming broth and mint leaves. He attends celebratory mass and follows the procession of Queen Isabell around the streets of Hollister, which ends with the release of a white dove symbolizing the Holy Spirit.
Manuel Silva is another active member of the lodge, but unlike most, he is an immigrant who came to the U.S. in 1959 when he was 18 years old. Silva was part of the second big wave of Portuguese immigrants who arrived in the county and like their predecessors, they too were economic refugees fleeing the Azores. Like Rodrigues’ grandfather, Silva also lived on Faial, an island of 23,000 inhabitants and one looming volcano.
“We were farmers, poor, but happy,” he said.
The volcano was a source of both awe and fear for the locals and it finally erupted on Sept. 27, 1957. The earth trembled for 24 hours before and in a final release of pent up energy, hot lava spilled down the mountain. Entire villages were destroyed and numerous people killed, said Silva. In the days that followed, hot ash and sand cascaded from the mountain, falling onto crops and destroying them. Silva and his family knew their livelihood had been stamped out and took an invitation by then-Senator John F. Kennedy to immigrate to the U.S. Two years later, they were living in Hollister and trying to acclimate to life in America.
“I was really impressed with the buildings and the hills of San Francisco,” recalls Silva. “I thought it was beautiful.”
In 1966, Silva went back to Faial for a visit, met his future wife and brought her to the U.S. Today, he has three sons and 10 grandchildren. And although the youngest generation doesn’t speak Portuguese, they participate in all of the events put on by the lodge, including the coronation of the queen during the “festa”.
“We want to keep the traditions and culture alive and make sure that they see this (lodge and festivities) as part of their lives,” said Debbie Martin, president of the lodge, who works closely with Silva.
Martin, who is only a quarter Portuguese-American, grew up attending parties at the lodge and was always mesmerized by the people, music and dances. Yet she didn’t speak the language and didn’t know how else she could be involved until she went to a lodge meeting and saw other Portuguese-American women who couldn’t speak Portuguese active in the organization.
Several years ago, she became the first female president of the lodge and has made many friends through the association.
“We pray together, we laugh and cry together,” she says. “We are like a family.”
But the face of the family is changing as Portuguese immigrants marry outside the community and assimilate into the great melting pot of life in the U.S. Increasingly, they don’t speak the language and have only a vague idea about what life was like in Portugal or the islands. Still, the idea that they are somehow different from other Americans is the glue that binds them.
“This is who we are,” says Martin, pointing around the empty lodge on a recent day. “And I don’t ever want to see it end.”
Karina Ioffee covers education and agriculture for the Free Lance. Reach her at (831)637-5566 ext. 335 or
ki*****@fr***********.com
