In 1971 after working with Cesar Chavez’ United Farm Worker’s movement for nine years, Susan Samuels Drake was asked to fill in as his secretary for a week. Two and a half years later she was abruptly fired from that position and left the cause to blaze her own trail. Their friendship was eventually restored and in the 1980’s Susan’s home became a periodic refuge for the labor organizer. With death threats hanging over him, Chavez would show up with his body guard and “watch Johnny Carson,” before lying down for a decent night’s sleep away from interviews, fundraising, and organizing. In the years following her sudden “dismissal,” Susan worked on her career as a writer and editor. She has published a memoir and articles, winning honors and awards in the process. Susan read from her book, Fields of Courage, which reflects on her 31-year friendship with Chavez, at a recent presentation for the Pizza and Prose Art and Literature Series at Cava Wine Bar in Capitola Village . She began her talk, however, with her more recent work. She covered a range of topics from environmentally unfriendly temptations, to ‘protesting cats’ spraying the newspaper delivered to her front door four days into the current war with Iraq , to friendships that have lasted decades.
Through prose she questions the moments in her life from the schoolyard of her childhood to current events. Her use of language is so deft, her poems begin simply and end by leaving the listener with equal parts humor and humanity. “Capital Punishment, 1944” recounts her excitement at the prospect of sharing the new word she learned one day at recess and the confusion over her mother’s threat to wash her mouth out with soap if she ever uttered it again. In a more serious moment Susan read “Molly Ivins (1945-2007).” In this piece she wonders how the void will be filled by the woman whose death she compares to “a silenced trumpet.” Will those Ivins inspired pick up where she left off or “sit back against pillows?” The biggest laugh of the evening, from the clearly progressive crowd, came from the poem titled ‘Faith’. “Santa Claus, A collaborative Congress, I believe in both fantasies.”
Without wasting words, she leads her listeners away gently and takes them to a new place on familiar ground.Her words run the gamut from reflections on her friendship with the late labor leader, to her poem on the oddity of Hummers in Santa Cruz , and fear of losing her soul by taking up an invitation to ride in one. Susan speaks with honesty and forthrightness.
The fateful day the phone rang back in 1973 and her co-worker Jose turned to her and said “Cesar says your fired,” he also told her “You remind me of the kid in The Emperor’s New Clothes.” The reason for her sudden dismissal, she told us, was because she spoke truth to power when no one else had it in them to. The movement had been getting off-track, according to Susan, and was becoming distracted from the essence of its purpose which had been so effective for so long. There have been some improvements in the fields, but as Susan talked about the backbreaking work of the farm workers who wake up before dawn to cook and feed their families, she eloquently brought home how much work there is still to do and how much fight she still has in her. Fight for the men and women who can only afford to put a few dollar’s worth of gas in the tank, praying that will be enough to get the children to school and them to work, where they will spend the day “bending over like a human paperclip” from early in the morning till “way beyond the hours of an office worker’s day,” resisting thirst because of the lack of safe drinking water.
Chavez, who she says in the poem ‘Facelift’, “turned up the light in my eyes,” clearly awakened her consciousness which has taken her on a life-long journey to speak her truth and share her talent with words to tell these important stories and reflections.
