News from the California Federation of Interpreters Picket Line

September 25, 2007

SAY WHAT?

Donations pile up

According to our last count, well over $12,000 has been donated to our strike fund and we're told much more has been pledged. Many of the donations have been from individuals, including strikers, interpreters from other regions and other states, and supporters. We've also received welcome donations from Guild locals and from other local unions.

Of course, every donor will receive a personal note of thanks, but we wanted to thank them here as well. They have buoyed both our spirits and our ability to last. We will be forever grateful.

Portrait of a Striker

Dennis McKenna likes to show up early for picket duty at Central Arraignment Court—in jeans, comfy shoes and sunglasses—the better to raise his sign and show his support for our strike. With 17 years experience working in the court system, he feels our efforts to secure a salary step system are completely justified. "It's worth it to stick it out, otherwise we have no possibilities," he says.

A Southern California native of Irish extraction, Dennis is not your typical Spanish interpreter. For one thing, he is a published author. He's written two extremely useful books for the profession, the acclaimed Dictionary of Mexicanismos and The Criminal Court Dictionary. For another thing, he became an interpreter almost by accident.

Dennis's mother had lived in Mexico and encouraged him and his sister to study Spanish. Traveling through Europe on a prolonged what-do-I-do-now-that-I'm-out of college-period, he wound up in Grenada, Spain, where his mother called him. Worried about his apparent rootlessness, she asked him how he was going to make a living. In the panic of the moment he remembered a language school he'd seen down the street and he told her, "I'm going to study interpretation!" That week he enrolled and actually won a scholarship at the school.

Of such serendipitous moments are careers made.

After attending the school for two years, Dennis returned to California, where he took the State Certification test, preparing for it with the conscientiousness and thoroughness that are so much a part of his character. He passed the test with flying colors and soon began working for the Courts. With his ruddy Irish 'huero' looks, occasionally Spanish speaking clients mistake him for their attorney, but once he starts to interpret, and they realize his mastery of the language, all worries vanish. They know they're in the hands of a pro.

Dennis was an observer at last year's contract negotiations and came to the conclusion that the Courts were not acting in good faith. He realized that a strike might be the only way to gain respect and advancement. That is because, he believes, with the exception of California, the U.S. is linguistically isolated. "This is a country where people don't study languages" and sadly, are not much interested in those who do. He wholeheartedly supports our strike as a way to change the perceptions of the English speaking public. "After the way we have been treated, it's worthwhile to strike."

Peeking inside

This week we're getting more than second-hand reports about what's happening inside. Our attorney sent a letter to court administrators late last week telling them we would begin actively monitoring the activities with our own folks and with "citizen observers." What we're learning is confirming what others have already told us. Continuances, dismissals and inept interpreting are the rule of the day. We will be keeping track of the most egregious cases to supply to legislators, to watchdog groups, and to the press.

From San Fernando...

Today Judge from department came out to greet interpreters and he let us know that they are suffering in the court. He encouraged us all to keep going so we can get what we want.

At least we know that judges are feeling the pinch. (A private attorney) said that it is a mess in the courts and that other judges were practically fighting over the interpreter. The attorney's interpreter case was not heard last week due to lack of interpreter.

March of the Prima Donnas

By Rick Moffitt

I'd heard somewhere that we interpreters were considered "primadonnas," but I'd never really connected with it until I saw it in print. There it was, plain as day, in all its illustrious spelling, included in an article about our ongoing strike. I must say, I was not unpleasantly taken aback.

I thought as I marched the next day, of all the fabulous company I was compared to and imagined Maria Callas, her mink traipsing behind her as she picketed the MET with her cardboard sign on a splinter-filled stick. Perhaps that famous voice chanting, "One, two, three, four, won't sing Verdi anymore!" Or Barry Bonds on his umpteenth lap on the hard pavement in front of PacBell Stadium, feet hurting but still able to pound his bat on a pot saying, "What do I want? Respect! When do I want it? NOW! "

I kept wondering, as one is wont to do as one paces up and down the same fifty feet, hour after hour, sciatica burning my left leg: How did I achieve such superstar status? Could it be the spacious oak-lined lounge area with private bar and fireplace supplied to all foreign language interpreters lucky enough to fall by chance into the employ of the Superior Court? Could it have been my refusal to interpret for a client until he "cleaned up" his accent? I know it's not the ascot and smoking jacket I typically wear in court because everyone knows I look fabulous in it. Maybe it was that brief period when I insisted on being referred to as, "The artist formerly known as the interpreter."

Well, whatever, here I am, a prima donna, slapping the pavement like my predecessors must have, day in and day out, for no pay. My hat is off to the organizers of this parade 'cause the only thing harder than herding cats must be herding prima donnas.