Evening Star Newspaper, April 7, 1935, Page 88

T WOULD have been a pitiful case to the most casehardened immigrant inspector, but to young Kelly it was doubly touching. Kelly was new in ‘“the ser- vice'' and he had not yet learned to wear his uniform and emotions with repression. Even before he saw Felipa, he was disturbed by her letter addressed to ‘‘The Great American Nation"” which had confiscated her husband, -—not because it valued him; it was his Felipa's letter explained why she could not come to the immigration station; she had five babies who must be provided with food, and she must get out the washings for her patrons. But surely, she urged, the officers would have the mercy to aid hey. She and all her little ones had been born in the United States. Always she had respected the laws, and was working hard to rear her children to be creditable citizens of their native land. Could not the law do something to help? She closed with the customary million thanks from their humble servant who kissed their hands — Felipa Garcia. “It's written in pretty good Spanish too,"” obeerved Crowell, the inspector in charge, as he clipped the letter to the file with its translation. ‘‘She sounds like a decent sort. You'd better run out to the smelter district and interview her, Kelly."” “With my Spanish?’’ Kelly demurred. Couldn’t the Great American Nation, she asked, do a favor for a woman who was trying her best? THIS WEEK The Case of Gaspar JHis wife begged a favor of the Great American Nation by ANNA BRAND “You'll manage — most of them speak a little English, and all you need is the birth record of the family to complete our files. The case is strictly against her husband.” Kelly reread the translation. “Pretty tough on her, at that. Can't we do something for her?"’ “I'm afraid not. Her erring Gaspar was smuggling narcotics and he was caught wad- ing the river with the goods.” It wasn’t an unusual case, there were hun- dreds like it yellowing in the record room — aliens who had been admitted on approval, who had married and proceeded to provide for their American-born progeny by methods in violation of the laws, and were deported. But there was the aspect that had no place in government records — the little Juans and Ramons who spoke English and were proud of being in the ‘“High Second,’ who learned to shrill “The Star Spangled Banner’’ and must either be forcibly separated from its folds, or their papa who had not respected it. Either - way you looked at it, it was a desolate choice for the family. Sometimes they trailed, dazed, across the international bridge to Juarez, but more often they bid a weeping farewell to the papa and . With acute reluctance, Kelly parked his car before the little adobe shack. He knocked at the front door. There was no answer. He could hear a woman's voice singing to a muffied regular sound he identified as rubbing on a washboard. Ducking under the flapping, wet sheets, he made his way around to the back entrance. Felipa was washing in the patio, and the instant she looked up from her tub, Kelly liked her. She was a ‘good” Mexican; no mistaking the type, open-faced, sturdy-featured, her black eyes a mixture of honesty and wonder. When she learned he was an immigration officer, she was all visible awe and increased politeness. She brought him a soap-box chair hospitably. And she answered his questions in broken English, with apologetic gestures for her handicaps. But Kelly managed to get the data about the births. Felipa was proud of her five little Americanos, and paraded them all for his approval. “You will help me — you will?" she im- plored. “It is ver’ hard for 2 woman to support s0 many — impossible!”” She burst into a devout and, to Kelly, unintelligible explana- tion. J His gaze traveled in bewildered sympathy Hlustration by Lu Kimmel April 7, 1935 to nearby Manuel, the oldest little Garcia. *‘What's she saying ?"’ “It's about my papa - ' Manuel gulped before he could go on. *‘She says it takes lots of shoes and food for us—and a big man shouldn't want to make a woman earn it all by herself.” Kelly colored an unhappy red to his ears. He didn't want to make Felipa earn it all by herself. It was the last thing he desired, but it was futile to explain the inexorable laws. With hastily murmured assurance that he would do what he could, he left. _ And heavily depressed, he consulted the inspector in charge. “It does seem as if some consideration should be shown that woman. Say, you ought to have seen the house — just a little shack, of course, but as neat as a pin. And the kids are nice-looking too — clean, chubby, bright little faces. It makes me kind of sick.’’ “Get all the information you can about Gaspar,"” Crowell suggested. ‘‘Previous good conduct would help. I'll give you time." But it made Kelly sicker as the days went on. Scrupulously he investigated Gaspar's behavior, only to unearth a vein of petty misdemeanors which he was obliged to incor- porate in the already ominous record. Even- tually the case would have to go to the district office uptown, and the argus-eyed supervising inspector over all the border ports. Meanwhile Felipa was writing regularly. Couldn’t they do anything to help her? Por Favor! At every few pages in the thick government file was one of her notes with its heart-tugging translation. It was with deep misgiving he surrendered | the file to Crowell. Even Crowell made the ! final review with a persistent regret — not ! on Gaspar's account, he was a typical bold- eyed deportee. But there was a tired, over- worked woman with five little regular, hun- gry citizens who needed him, even if the country didn’t. But, as inspector in charge, there was only one thing he could recommend — deportation. However, he closed with a brief for Felipa; she was an unusually worthy woman and it might be that the district office could find grounds to refute his decision. If 80, it had his heartiest endorsement. “Well,” he informed Kelly, “I sent that Gaspar Garcia case to the S.I. office. 1 dug into every angle of the law but I couldn't find a loop-hole for him. It looks like he’s out.” Kelly frowned. “Say, I'm going up and have a talk with the big boss."” “You can’t do anything.” But Inspector Kelly went and, red-faced, presented himself to his chief. He knew it was irregular, but his apology was eloquent and convincing. “I feel rotten about the * whole business,” he finished earnestly. ‘‘That woman deserves all the mercy she can get, and I've simply ruined things."” “You didn't create the facts,” the super- vising inspector reminded him grimly. “Gaspar did that.” “But if you could just give him another break — find some interpretation of the law — "' His chief rang for the file and put on his - - v - glasses attentively. It was a pitiful case, all | right. Reluctant conviction mingled with un- certainty in the stern gray eyes as he followed it. Kelly watched breathlessly as page after page was scanned with meticulous thorough- ness; the tide was turning . . . The chief looked up suddenly. “Do you read Spanish?"’ “Not very well,” Kelly admitted, ‘‘other- wise I might have done a little better for Felipa. I suppose I've made a mess of it.” “Not quite,” the supervising inspector observed drily, “for I'm going to overlook your mismanagement in her behalf.” Kelly grinned sheepishly. “We'll just deport Gaspar so fast it will make his head swim,”” he concluded grimly. “Wha-at!"” Kelly gasped. “And the next time you tackle a case, be thorough. I'll admit Felipa hasn't been very articulate, she’s left a lot to your perspicuity. However this letter’”” — he picked it up with a slow twinkle — “while it reads like all the rest, it has a postscript on the back that got overlooked. Listen: “‘If the Great American Nation sees fit to return Gaspar to me, 1 do not know what I shall do. So long as I have only myself and the babies to support, 1 can manage. But if I must continue supporting him too, it will be too much. As a great favor, spare me this. I remain your humble servant who kisses your hand — Felipa Garcia.' "’ . IR1N T