­by Andy Porras

The noose is on the loose. Again.

Ever since those nooses dangling from a schoolyard tree raised racial tensions in Louisiana, the frightening symbol of segregation-era lynching has been hanging around the country.

The ghosts of Jim Crow and certain Texas Rangers are smiling and dancing in their graves. The rope trick they made famous is making a comeback.

Tejanos share memories of their ancestors facing situations similar to those of their darker brothers.

According to William D. Carrigan and Clive Webb’s “The Lynching of Persons of Mexican Origin or Descent in the United States, 1848 to 1928,” Texas mobs lynched at least 597 persons of Mexican descent.

“This does not include many incidents of other forms of mob violence,” writes Chicano historian Dr. Rudy Acuña. “This is considerable, considering that the Mexican population was small in comparison to the black population.”

Is placing a noose on a schoolyard tree a deplorable act of racism? Or is it just a prank, as that Louisiana school superintendent labeled his white students’ actions? Some of the current rash of “noose” incidents are being investigated as possible hate crimes. Most educators and law enforcement officials agree there’s no ambiguity. No matter their skin color, people understand exactly what it means.

The South’s brutal acts are more widely known, but Texas had its own barbarians who went around roping first and asking questions later.

Thanks to educator/journalist Jovita Idar (1885-1946), we have written accounts of occurrences during a tumultuous time for Tejanos in the border city of Laredo during the Mexican Revolution of 1910.

On U.S. soil, a second “war,” unnoticed by school textbooks, was raging. Los Rinches (Tejano lingo for the Rangers) were out and about lynching brown men, women and even children who sought refuge from their land’s political upheaval.

Jovita, whose students were mostly Mexican children, became a compelling historical figure. Throughout Texas, the lack of books and other basics often led Tejana teachers to abandon their pedagogical dreams and search for other careers. Jovita joined two brothers as a writer for her father’s newspaper, La Crónica, Her “radical” words often detailed the rabid discrimination against the Mexican students. But the reports that really ruffled Texas government’s feathers were about the Texas Rangers.

One laid bare the truth about the Rangers lynching a Mexican child in the town of Thorndale, near Austin. Another told of a 20-year-old Tejano burned alive by a mob in Rocksprings.

Soon thereafter the young periodista-journalist, called for organizing against the racist and brutal acts by the Rangers and white Texans in general. The Rangers added her to their hit list.

Jovita’s motto, Por la raza y para la raza — by the race and for the race” — became a rallying cry that led the formation of the feminist group La Liga Femenil Mexicanista.

Despite Rangers’ threats to put an end to such extreme ideas, the Tejanos formed their own schools, allowing formerly excluded students to enroll at no cost. They even provided the students with free lunch and school clothes.

Fearing the Mexican Revolution would spread into South Texas, the Rangers increased their presence along the border, continuing their repression against all people of Mexican origin. Jovita’s editorials were considered inflammatory by state and federal officials to the point that she was “cautioned” by both to curb her criticism.

In 1914 Jovita hit the hate jackpot with an article critical of none other than U.S. President Woodrow Wilson, who had deployed troops to the border. it was just the thing Los Rinches needed to come calling. Sent to destroy her father’s newspaper offi ce, an entire company of Texas’ fi nest mounted their high- grade steeds, surrounded the office and demanded her presence.

A Tejano crowd gathered to see what caused so many Rangers to come to town.

They gasped as Jovita stood in the doorway resisting the Ranger captain who had ordered her to get out of the way.

Jovita stood motion less. The Ranger captain and the journalist exchanged words. She read him her rights. The tall Texan with a badge ordered his men to back off, and he did the same.

Such a stand comes with a heavy price. The men returned in the dark of night with sledgehammers. They annihilated La Crónica. They destroyed the conscience of a community, but they failed to silence its messenger. For a memorable moment in Texas history, a Tejana cut loose the noose.

Jovita would write again from a safer place, San Antonio, where she and her husband lived out their lives.

(Andy Porras is publisher of the Sacramento area bilingual monthly Califas. Reach him at ­califasap@yahoo.com). ©2007

by José de la Isla

HOUSTON– Mexico’s former president Vicente Fox has a talent for drawing almost as much criticism out of office as when he was the incumbent

In July of last year, he was succeeded by Felipe Calderón, of his own center right National Action Party, PAN in Spanish. Fox is widely credited with advancing democracy and reforming Mexico’s economy by controlling inflation and lowering interest rates. But he left office with a trail of disappointments.

Since that time, Fox has followed in the tradition of former heads of state, such as George Bush Sr., Bill Clinton, Jimmy Carter, U.K.’s Tony Blair, and Spain’s José María Aznar. They have remained active and at times vocal.

However, Mexico has only tepid acceptance for its former presidents going public, certainly not by the old Institutional Revolutionary Party, PRI in Spanish, that held power for 72 years, and now twice beaten for the presidency.

Political animosities die slowly and Fox’s antagonists seek to hang a personal enrichment jacket on him. Other allegations circulating include influence peddling by his stepchildren through his marriage to Marta Sahagún, and aspersions about Vámos México, the foundation they head. A commission has been authorized to investigate some of the allegations.

At the same time, Vicente Fox might be on the verge of taking an important place on the world stage. In late October he was elected co-president of Centrist Democrat International, the association of center-right parties around the world. He is also setting up a presidential library and think tank at his ranch. Throughout October, he has promoted In the United States his autobiographical book, “Revolution of Hope,” written with Rob Allyn.

While he was abroad last week, a group in Boca deL Río, Veracruz, toppled a statue of Fox before it was to be dedicated. When asked about it, Fox told me the people responsible for the “mischief,” were not average citizens but operatives of the state’s federal senator Fidel Herrera Beltrán. “He himself announced it,” Fox told me.

Herrera Beltrán, a PRI member, heads the Senate’s policy coordinating committee. More aftershocks were to follow. In Los Angeles, Fox walked out on Telemundo52 interviewer Rubén Luengas after uncomfortable questions about who owns certain properties in Guanajuato state near his ranch. Records appear to bear his wife Marta Sahagún’s name.

Then in San Jose, Calif., speaking at a downtown hotel, Fox drew a small protest across the street at the Plaza de César Chávez.

At a press conference, Fox claimed Herrera Beltrán was behind the anti-Fox campaign in Mexico, and alluded to the senator’s presidential aspirations. Just to make sure the mud stuck, Fox said Herrera “has a Drug Enforcement Agency, DEA, record related to narcotrafficking.”

Herrera called Fox’s 1charge a smoke screen, to distract public opinion from Fox’s administration corruption. The issue, he told El Universal, a Mexico City daily, was a recycled 10-year-old matter found to be a complete lie.

Víctor Valencia de los Santos, who heads the commission inquiring into the Fox administration, called the whole matter “a rude strategic distraction.”

The issues and name-calling heated up after Quién magazine published photos of the Fox’s homestead, Rancho Cristóbal. Questions immediately arose about whether government funds contributed to the renovations.

“It is evident he got rich during his six years in office,” Lino Korrodi, a former Fox campaign finance manager, told El Universal. Now a critic, Korrodi says Fox didn’t have the kind of money to renovate the ranch during his presidency.

Either legitimate charges are made before the appropriate tribunals or let historians argue over the details.

The danger of failing to let Fox become an elder statesman is that a cynical North American public can further lose confidence in Mexico’s emerging democracy and economy. Stereotypes, in matters such as this, are easier to come by than the facts.

Already, public opinion is making life-after-the-presidency read like a soap opera, a telecomedia. Ex-presidents have a lot to offer still. They do. Really they do.

[José de la Isla, author of “The Rise of Hispanic Political Power” (Archer Books, 2003) writes a weekly ­commentary for Hispanic Link News Service. E-mail: joseisla3@yahoo.com].© 2007­