When he came to the United States in the 1980s, he was looking for opportunity and work. Severiano Hernandez, originally from Oaxaca, Mexico, earned his green card, his driver’s license and eventually worked his way up to becoming a U.S. citizen.

For the past 15 years, he’s worked at Wiers Farm — a 117-year-old produce operation near Willard, Ohio. Today, he holds the title “crew leader” and oversees about 110 field workers. Most of his immediate family works on the farm, including his wife, his parents, a daughter and two sisters. His income supports his family, which includes two young children.

“I have a good job and I make some money and I take care of my family,” he said. “And they’re (Wiers family) good people.”

Hernandez has a house near Willard, and in Mexico. His family makes the 65-hour drive back home about every two years.

Looking back

Nearly 30 years since he came to the United States, he says Hispanics are coming today for the same reason: to work and take care of their families. But increased border security and laws that allow workers in the States only seasonally have made that a challenge.

Sources like the Pew Hispanic Center and U.S. Department of Homeland Security put the number of undocumented workers in the United States at about 11 million. Hernandez wants people to be able to work here legally, like he did, but also be able to go back to Mexico to visit their families.

“If people come here, they work hard,” he said. “I’d like people to have the same kind of (opportunity) like me. The only thing we do here is work — that’s the only thing we do here.”

It’s fitting that Hernandez would end up at Wiers Farm — a place that was also started by immigrants. In 1896, Henry Wiers and other Dutch immigrants bought the farm’s first five acres in a low-lying area known for its swamps and black muck. The family worked to build ditches and drain the land, steadily adding more acres.

Today, the Wiers family farms more than 3,000 acres of produce and employs 500-600 people during the growing season.

“For the people, they’re looking for a way to better their lives,” said Ben Wiers. “Let’s face it, my great-grandfather (Henry Wiers) came to this country and worked in these fields, doing the same jobs that these folks are doing today, and for the same reason: to better their lives. And eventually he was able to expand his farm and add people and all of that.”

Carlos Iracheta, 36, has worked more than 10 years at Wiers Farm. He is a U.S. citizen from Brownsville, Texas, and his parents are U.S. residents, originally from Metamoros, Mexico.

He’s now the farm’s inventory and greenhouse manager — but it took him a while to earn that position. Like most beginners, Iracheta started as a field worker, and moved his way up to inside jobs like stacking, operating a forklift and working on the loading dock.

When he came to the farm, Iracheta lived in one of the Wiers’ labor housing camps — an apartment-like complex that provides utilities and living quarters. Today, he has his own house.

“I started at the bottom … and eventually I just kept going up and up,” he said. Iracheta works at Wiers Farm from March through October. His two children, 8 and 11, usually stay with him, and the three travel back to Texas in the fall, where his children attend school.

Over the years, he has gotten to know the Wiers well and has been invited to their houses for dinner and social events.

“They (Wiers) care about what the people go through,” he said. “It’s basically family oriented. That’s why I keep coming back, I guess. I like my position.”Like Hernandez, Iracheta says immigrants are here to work, and the government needs laws that let the people work.“Just let them work,” he said. “That’s all they want to do — they just want to work.”

Work ethic

And work they do — sometimes 10 or more hours a day — depending on the time of season and the weather. In the spring, they plant. During the summer, they maintain the crops by pulling weeds and cultivating. Late summer and fall, they harvest.

Workers at Wiers Farm grow 40 different kinds of vegetables — radishes, cucumbers, corn, carrots, cabbages and what seems like everything else. ”It is hard work. It’s farming,” said Iracheta. “It’s not a factory.”

There are three breaks a day. A restroom facility is provided for about every 20 workers — typically a portable unit that is set up in the fields. Hand-washing stations are available for all workers — and they’re expected to use them, as a food safety measure.

Some days get hot — really hot. The dirt at Wiers Farm is mostly black muck — which absorbs heat. A 90-degree day can be 100 degrees or more in the fields. The workers adjust by wearing loose-fitting clothing, and taking water wherever they go.

Opinions abound

Some Americans say immigrants like Iracheta are taking American jobs — a claim he knows very well. But, he doesn’t buy it.

“I laugh,” he said. “They’ll come and then they’ll work for a day or two and then that’s it.”

While there are some locals who do show up and work hard — many more do not and quit after a day or two.

“A lot of these folks are just not interested in a job that you have to work either if it’s raining, if it’s 100 degrees,” Wiers said. “You’ve got all different types of weather (and hour) issues.”

Wiers said he “respects the fact that local people aren’t looking for these types of jobs.” But because of that, farmers like him need immigrants who are willing to do the work.

“We need a secure, safe labor force that they (immigrants) don’t have to risk their lives to cross the border, (and we need to) know we have enough people to harvest the crops,” he said.

When the workers are done for the day — typically late afternoon or evening — they’re free to do what they want. Depending on the occasion, they might get together at a family member’s house for a meal, or go into town for supplies or to do laundry.

In a town that is mostly white, the workers’ darker complexion and Spanish accents make them easy to spot. Stereotypes range from whether they’re legal, to whether they’re taking jobs.

“Me being a U.S. citizen, I’ve been harassed,” Iracheta said. “I (give) a ‘yes sir, no sir, yes sir,’ they let me go.’”

Some workers, Iracheta said, are afraid to go out into the public. But Iracheta said for the most part — it’s actually not that bad.

“I guess they (locals) got used to seeing us around,” he said.

It helps that the workers — when they do to into the public — are buying products from American stores and American services. Some start their day buying breakfast in town, and buy everything they need off the locals.

“We like to spend money,” Iracheta said, lightheartedly. “I mean, we like to save, but at the same time we like to spend.”

The Wiers family provides a full-size soccer field for their workers and their families — some who play on a traveling team, which includes two of Ben Wiers’ daughters.

And they provide an ombudsman — so if a worker has a concern and doesn’t feel comfortable approaching the Wiers, the worker can still talk to someone.

“We want to take care of the people,” Ben Wiers said. “The people are the key to our success.” Most of the workers are Catholic and many take part in local church services, some which are provided in Spanish.

Social perspective

Wendy Tarr, of Columbus, has an extensive background with the social issues immigrants face. She is the Midwest regional organizer for Bibles, Badges and Business — a national network of faith, law enforcement and business leaders working together to educate members of Congress about immigrants.

Tarr said Hispanics are often mischaracterized because they’re not understood.

“They (immigrants) really want to succeed and they see this as the land of opportunity,” Tarr said. “The more that people have engaged with immigrants, the more that is obvious.”

“Engaging” them is what makes the difference, according to Shelby County farmer Chris Gibbs. Although he does not employ immigrants, Gibbs supports reform because he knows farmers who do employ immigrants, and who need the labor force.

“It’s very easy for folks to throw rocks at immigration reform when they can’t look who immigration reform is about in the eye,” he said. “If you’re standing in front of them and they’ve got a heart beat and they’ve got a grandma … it brings the debate down to a human level.”

Gibbs is chairman of the Shelby County Republican Party. He made a trip to Washington in late October, alongside other farmers and some lawmakers, including Ohio Rep. Terry Boose of Norwalk, to tell lawmakers why reform is needed.

The event was called “Americans for Reform.” It was one of dozens of similar efforts made by private citizens who want a new system.

Dairy farms

It’s not just vegetable growers who want change. Chris Weaver and his family employ about 35 Hispanics on their dairy operation in northwest Ohio and Indiana. They’ve tried to hire locals in the past, but most of the time, Hispanics were more dependable.

He describes them as “good workers and they apply themselves.”

They show up for work, and they’re not afraid to get dirty. And they take care of their surroundings — including the housing facilities Weaver provides.

He requires paperwork and documentation from those he hires. He also requires a drug test — something Hispanics tend to pass more often than locals.

But, Weaver knows there are other Hispanics who are living in fear. Congress needs to “create a system that allows Hispanics to work here and, in a sense, come out of the shadows if they’re working in the shadows,” he said.

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At the same time, Weaver said Congress needs to make up its mind.

Congress should either “clamp down on everything and be hard on everyone at the same time,” he said, “Or — if they’re (Hispanics) here and trying to work the American dream and they’re willing to work and contribute to society — let’s let them.”

Immigrants like Iracheta and Hernandez, who are both citizens, hope Congress does the second thing — let people come here to work. And, let them go home once in a while, to visit their families.

“I’d like the people to go to Mexico and see family and come back and work again,” Hernandez said, recalling how he did just that, for many years.

The workers enjoy their jobs, the people they work with and, most of all, the chance to succeed.

“I love working here,” Iracheta said. “If not, I wouldn’t be here.”