The Story Behind "Slangin' Strawberries"

— By Kevin Montgomery (@kevinmonty) |

I have no idea if this story is 100% legit or not, but the tale told by commenter Rigoberto Hernandez is worth sharing:

That picture is too funny and nostalgic.

That is Javier (probably not his real name). He lives in a garage with five other people in San Jose, including his brother Hugo (probably not his real name either). He is originally from Puebla, Mexico where he was an artisan. He worked seven days a week selling his merchandise in a market. Then business started to slow down and he immigrated, crossing through Arizona, leaving his wife back home.

He played the role of Jesus Christ in the re-enactment of his final hours, in Puebla. He said the beatings were real, but he was honored nonetheless for being given the role. He liked the role so much that he was considering going through a surgery where they perforate holes in his hands where real nails would go through as he hung on the cross.

Nowadays he wakes up every morning at 5 a.m. to go to Salinas (except Monday or if it's raining) and buys fresh fruit from a farm off the Crazy Horse Canyon. He buys an entire box (double the size of what he is holding) for $6 to $8, depending on supply and sells them for $20.

He was my favorite “fresero.” I wish him well.

Previously on Uptown Almanac: 

Comments (3)

Trolling for Anonymous Sex's picture Trolling for Anonymous Sex | []

These guys are trucked in from San Jose. There is no oversight of their working conditions or whether this should be allowed or not (technically, its illegal). As far as I’m concerned its exploitive of the people doing it and of the neighborhoods where they are planted. Its smells rotten, and will at some point no doubt be a scandal reported in the news.

johnny0's picture johnny0 | []

Rigoberto is being too modest – he did some reporting for Mission Local and followed Javier to San Jose. Part 1 and Part 2.

It was just after 8:37 p.m. on an August evening when we hit 95 mph while going south on Highway 101. Our goal was trying to keep up with a beige van transporting five strawberry street vendors and their merchandise.

One of my lenses had popped out and was lying on the floor of our rented, gold 2009 Chevrolet Malibu. My colleague, Stefania Rousselle, was almost on the floor too, laying low so her distinct Caucasian features wouldn’t give us away.

“Maybe it’s not a good idea to stay two cars behind them,” I say. “I keep losing them.”

After about an hour their van merges left getting ready to exit. We are three lanes away and a steady flow of cars won’t let us pass. The van exits on Story Road in the Foothill Division of San Jose.

We cut across three lanes of traffic and make the exit.

As we discovered over more than four weeks of reporting this summer, that was the easiest part of our journey.