Water Archives · Harry Brar interview

Title

eng Harry Brar interview

Description

eng Semi-retired farmer talking about the immigration history of his family in the west side of the Valley.

Creator

eng Brar, Harry

eng Holyoke, Thomas

Relation

eng Water Archive Oral Histories

Coverage

eng California State University, Fresno

Date

eng 11/18/2013

Format

eng Microsoft Word 2013 document, 16 pages

Identifier

eng SCMS_waoh_00036

extracted text

>> Thomas Holyoke: Okay. Today we are talking to Mr. Harry Brar,
farmer down by Selma.
>> Harry Brar: Exactly, yes.
>> Thomas Holyoke: But I think we should start with your grandfather's
story. Let's go there.
>> Harry Brar: Well, it's a very fascinating story. He migrated to the
U.S. in 1924 from India. He was a farmer back in India, and that was
during the British rule. So farming in India actually was quite
similar to what was happening in the U.S. We're in Punjab, and it's a
huge agricultural area and irrigated by these huge rivers that come
from the Himalayas. So it's a valley that's really an area that's
probably the food basket of India. But at that point it was quite
depressed in 1924, so he was looking for bigger and better things, and
he ended up leaving India in 1924. He left India with my grandmother
pregnant with my dad, and it's fascinating because once he arrived
here, he came via Mexico. He couldn't get a visa at that point to come
directly to the U.S., but he landed somewhere on the east coast of
Mexico and came up on to the border near Calexico and Mexicali and
entered illegally. At that point there was already -- his first
cousin, who he went to school with in India, they went to elementary
school together, had come to the U.S. as a, I think on a student visa,
I believe, because he had his Masters in English, and he was living in
the California area. So he had been sending him letters on what he had
seen as California as such a great potential area for agriculture, and
that it would be very beneficial for him to come there because he
could adjust to the same type of farming that was going on. But
anyway, imagine having the courage to leave India and leaving his wife
pregnant with my dad back home, but somehow -- I had unfortunately
never got the opportunity to ask him a lot of details about his trip.
But I can imagine it was a very arduous trip coming by ship, landing
in Mexico, then coming up to the border in Calexico. And there was a
group of I think other Sikh East Indians coming up and wanting to come
to the U.S., so they did and up migrating, coming across from the
Calexico border. And some of them actually ended up staying in
Calexico and started a little community of Indian farmworkers and
hands and working there as far as settling there. But he had actually
-- go ahead.
>> Thomas Holyoke: This was fairly common; a lot of people from East
India, a lot of Sikhs were coming in illegally through Mexico into the
United States?
>> Harry Brar: Well, I think at that point, the immigration had become
really tough, and the only way through Ellis Island -- there was a few
individuals that were able to get, if they were qualified in education
and other visas, so I think it was more common than not. Rather than
coming in illegally because they couldn't get in, they were having to
find other methods, and so it was -- he tells -- he was about at that
point I think around twenty-five, twenty-six years old. And that's why

now at this stage, I really have a great empathy for the migrant
workers that come from Mexico and work in our area, because he was one
of the original East Indians that came. But it was a tough trip. Ended
up coming from Calexico North in El Centro area, in that Imperial
Valley. He ended up coming to the big San Joaquin Valley after, I'm
not sure exactly the timetable, but ended up in the '30s coming up to
the San Joaquin. Actually it would be out on the west side where there
was some big-time farming going on by mainly a farmer named Russell
Giffen. And there was a crew of about fifteen, twenty East Indians
that he was able to -- and for them, it was almost second nature to
know how to irrigate and work, so it wasn't like getting trained for a
new job. So they had done a lot of this irrigation work already,
irrigation and farming in India, and it's the typical same type of
farming. A lot of cotton was grown in India at that time, grain crops
as well. So he settled in a small town called Cantua Creek, which is
about -- well it's out in the boondocks out on the west side, a very
small town, but it was kind of like a company town. All the people
worked for the same farmer, and there was little store there and a
post office, and he became the irrigation foreman. And at that point,
when he became a foreman, they had almost these brick barracks they
had, block barracks, and a huge hall, a mess hall, so he ended up
having a camp of what they called the Hindu Camp of about fifteen,
twenty East Indian workers that lived together. And they had this cook
they would hire, and so it became almost a very, very -- melded into
that community very nicely. In other words, he developed some great
relationships with the owner, Russell Giffen, and the other
supervisors there. And I remember him telling me that during the
depression years when Russell Giffen was having a hard time meeting
his payroll, they basically worked for him for free, meaning hopefully
to get paid in the future. And so I think all those times, it was just
basically, it was word-of-mouth and loyalty to whom they worked for,
and they developed a really good I think reputation as far as being
hard workers and making a success. I think -- and then Russell Giffen
became a very successful farmer after that, and actually after about
five to ten years, he sold most of the land in the Cantua area to a
large corporation called Anderson Clayton, who had quite a few gins.
There were many ginning and cotton products, and so they're based out
of Houston. And at that point, that company owned some land in
Mendota. They had some land farming in Cantua, and then they also had
some in Huron. A huge, huge operation, about fifty thousand acres of
farm ground, so eventually he was able to get his citizenship. He was
an illegal immigrant, and a lot of his friends there were able to
assist him in showing that he had become a permanent resident there,
and I'm not sure how he actually got his citizenship. It may have been
through an amnesty program in the '50s.
>> Thomas Holyoke: Something you had mentioned earlier, that he was
staying at I guess what was referred to as a Hindu camp?
>> Harry Brar: That's right.
>> Thomas Holyoke: He himself was not Hindu.

>> Harry Brar: Exactly, exactly. Well, it was like a general reference
to all East Indians at that time, and some of them had Sherpa's, but
most of them actually had cut their hair and were clean-shaven. The
most common word used for them was Hindus, and he really was not a
Hindu. He was a Sikh, which is a branch offshoot of Hinduism, but for
them, that was okay. It was a reference, and it was not in a demeaning
way, but it was more of identification that they were from India, and
so it was called a Hindu camp. And once he got his legal citizenship
in the '50s, I think the mid-'50s, I remember he was telling -- there
was two of his older supervisors, and one still lives out in Coalinga.
His name is Bill Clay, and I had the opportunity to go talk to him,
and Bill Clay is about ninety-four years old now, and he was a
supervisor for Anderson Clayton, just basically my grandfather's
foreman, his superior. And he said him and another person named Doug
Robertsoy went and became witnesses to his U.S. citizenship, and when
he was headed out -- or coming back from the ceremony, Bill Clay was
relaying this to me, and he said he was laughing and sitting in the
backseat. And they asked him, "Well, what are you laughing about?"
"Well," he said, "You guys made this Hindu into an Okie just by
getting me over to Fresno and getting my papers for becoming a U.S.
citizen." So -- I mean that was all in good fun. They really had -- I
could tell they had great camaraderie amongst each other, I mean the
way he explained it, and obviously a lot of hardships as well. But
what I'm grateful for to my grandfather is that many of his peers at
that time, even though they had family in India, because of being
lonely and in another country, ended up remarrying and primarily with
Hispanics. And at that time, the laws were such that you could only -a brown could only marry a brown, or they wouldn't even give you a
marriage certificate. So many of them married into the Hispanic
culture and became -- basically had to kind of break ties with their
families in India because they were developing new families here. My
grandfather, thank God, had his intentions of making sure his family
came to the U.S., and so he never got married for our best interests,
and when he did get his citizenship, he was able to travel back to
the-- back to Punjab, which is where he originally came from. And I've
been told, this is in 1960 and I was only about five years old, he had
returned back to his home country after thirty-six years of being
away, and his son was now six-six years old. He had grandchildren, he
had six grandchildren, but it was like the prodigal son returning back
home and it was just amazing. I think they said it was just a big
festive occasion when he landed in the village, and I imagine that was
the peak of what his feelings were that he had accomplished leaving
the country, leaving his home country, and coming back and being able
to get acknowledgment that he had succeeded in this faraway country.
And his main attention was to make sure that now he could sponsor, and
in the '60s with the new immigration laws, your immediate family was
allowed to immigrate, and so he was able to petition for his son, my
father, in 1960. And so in 1962, my father and my mother and six
siblings, eight of us, were able to get residency or immigration
status to come here, basically by ship because in those days flying
was very expensive. So I remember in 1962, I was about six years old,

six or seven, and we boarded a flight from New Delhi to Hong Kong, and
from Hong Kong we took this ship, and it was called the Presidential
Lines at that time, and it was the SS Wilson. And it was a huge ship,
basically a large version of the Love Boat, I guess you could call it
[laughter], and it was a four or five decker, and it was amazing. It
was a group of about fifteen or sixteen East Indians that had traveled
together, and--and here we were leaving port up from Hong Kong, and
then traveling over the Pacific into Japan, landed in Tokyo. And from
Tokyo, it took us about another 18 days on the high seas to land in
Honolulu, Hawaii, and that's where we get our immigration done in
1962.
>> Thomas Holyoke: For a 6-year-old, this must have been an incredible
experience.
>> Harry Brar: Well, it was more than incredible because you remember
a few things, and one thing I do remember was our religion, one of our
traditions is that males don't cut their hair. So I was seven years
old, and my mom -- my hair was almost down to my, I believe it was
down almost to my waist. I had really long hair, and so my mom would
braid it and tie it up in a-- across my head and put ribbons in it, so
on the ship I remember they were having a contest to see whether I was
a boy or a girl [laughter]. So I mean those are the things you
remember, you know. There I had a little, a little pot-- and the games
and get across, and wagering on who -- what I was, and then
eventually, you know, that was resolved. But coming in, what was -- I
clearly remember was I do kind of remember seeing the beaches of
Hawaii when we landed, but I think the most vivid memory that I have
is coming under the Golden Gate Bridge and landing in San Francisco.
And there was my grandfather in his 1954 Chevy, I remember clearly. It
was a black hardtop with a yellow two tone, yellow on the bottom, and
here he was standing with his hat and big white tie and a suit on,
and--and happy as can be. Big smile on his face, and to me he reminded
me of a mafia guy standing there because that's what he looked like.
He was a huge, big man with --and--and he was waiting for us to debark
from San Francisco. And then from there, and we ended up coming to
Cantua Creek, and--and that's the journey that we had and it's all due
to my grandfather's efforts, so those are the things that really stick
with me, and we ended up staying. My grandfather actually was able to
save money and buy a vineyard in Selma, so in 1964 he left, which was
Anderson Clayton at that time, and moved to the farm in Selma, which,
which was about an eighty acre grape vineyard. And my father, who
actually had never worked a day in his life in India, because in India
if you're a landlord, and we had land in India, you were basically
making decisions, never worked a day in your life, but had a--a rude
awakening when he landed here. My grandfather told him you have six
children, and you and your wife, my mother, have to look after them
because don't look for me to help you out. That's how it's done in the
U.S. I had it tough. You're going to have to make it on your own way,
so he ended up working as a laborer out in the west side under my
grandfather, and eventually became an irrigation farmer himself. So -and all six of us ended up working out there, and it was just a great

time because again, it was a company town, and we were actually one of
the first few--Indian--East Indian families that lived in that area.
There was about -- maybe three or four East Indian families within a
radius of about forty miles, which is I mean totally unexpected as of
now because there's just been a big influx of East Indians coming to
the area. But what I'm getting at was how the American Caucasian
community just took us in. We didn't really have any -- a lot of
discrimination, although I had issues with my hair when I went to
school. I went into first grade and I got razzed so much with having
my long hair, especially in a braid with ribbons on top, that I came
crying at home and telling my mom that I have to get my hair cut
[laughter]. So -- but, you know, my grandfather's good friend, I
remember her name was Candy, this big lady who he had made great
friends with, said I'm going to take this boy right now to the barber
and have my hair cut. And so it was unfortunate, but I think it was,
in those days, it was just we were so new to the area that it was hard
for people to really imagine that we were from India and why we were
keeping our hair, although it's changing to the better now. But I
think what we really appreciate was that he had developed such a nice
relationship in the community that we benefited from that. We were
able to settle there and everyone took us in. I went to school in
Cantua. The teachers there were very loving, and so we lived there for
thirteen years and the best years of our lives. It was an isolated
life because we were out on the west side, but it was really probably
the best thing that could happen to us as far as coming to a new
country and living in a small cocoon type of a community, yeah.
>> Thomas Holyoke: Before I forget. One thing we've missed is your
grandfather's name.
>> Harry Brar: Yes, Partap. His name is, well, you know it's
interesting. His official name in India was Niranjan-singh [assumed
spelling], and I think the whole point was when he was able to get his
legal -- actually he changed his name when--while he was traveling,
for I don't know what reason. But his name was changed to Partap, P A
R T A P, Singh Brar, and when--when we -- in fact in his honor, I
basically farm under the name of Partap Farming because I think, well,
just to acknowledge what he suffered. I really -- we can't repay for
all the sacrifices he went through, but I think the main thing is not
to lose his -- not to at any point demean or even shortchange what he
sacrificed for us. And I think as a family, we want to make sure our
next generations learn that it's been--it's become so much easier for
us because of our forefathers sacrifices, and especially Partap, my
grandfather, yeah.
>> Thomas Holyoke: And what was your father's name?
>> Harry Brar: Sukhmander Brar, and he also was about I think age
thirty-six. Yeah, thirty-six when he came, and really I think, he,
it's such an awkward thing because he never had -- he had to develop a
new relationship with his dad because he had not seen him for thirtysix years, and my grandfather was a very strict, tough man. He had--he

had gone through some really tough times, so he demanded a lot out of
my father, and my father had a tough time. I know my mom said after
about six months stay here in the U.S., he was ready to go back. He
says, this is not for me [laughter]. But he did manage to work hard.
In those days, everyone worked seven days a week. There was hardly any
holidays, and--and so he also I think suffered. Suffered meaning
worked hard, and through some tough times, but as a family, we stuck
together, so it was all the family effort.
>> Thomas Holyoke: When your grandfather worked for Russell Giffen,
you said he became irrigation foreman? Was that it?
>> Harry Brar: Yes, that's right.
>> Thomas Holyoke: Was he -- did he get the education to do that? Did
he just learn it on the job?
>> Harry Brar: Yeah, well, I'll tell you. My grandfather was, for
Indian standards, fairly well educated. In those days, he had a tenth
grade education in India, and in India, there is a language called
Sanskrit, and, and in order -- the way you have to write from right to
left, and there's an old saying that anyone who can-- who's learned
that language is a sage, is old individual that's gone through the
schooling. And there was at that time when he was going through
schooling, there was a lot of British influence as well, but he had a
fairly good educational background relatively speaking. Not a college
degree, but then he also had the education of the school of hard
knocks, so just traveling through international seas and coming
across. But I think the biggest asset he had was that he was coming
from a farming community, and when it comes to irrigation and knowing
farming, it was basically in his genes, because we've done farming in
India for a while. And also our families in--in India in the 1940s and
'50s, before it got its independence in '47, going into the Army was a
big thing. So my grandfather's older brother, who basically looked
after his family, was second -- first-generation Indian soldier, and
then after that there's been four generations, which is now my uncle's
a retired general. So Army life and farming are the two mainstays in
India at that time, yeah.
>> Thomas Holyoke: When your grandfather was working for Giffen and
living out on the west side, did he ever talk about having any issues
of discrimination against Sikhs and Hindus?
>> Harry Brar: Well, you know, there's no doubt. You really had to, I
think, understand the era that they're in. Hispanics were always -had their -- they actually had their own group of workers, the Sikhs
and the Indians had their own group of workers, and Bill Clay, who was
their foreman, said basically he had to keep them separate because
they never got along. But then, then you had basically the Caucasian
group, and they were mainly in the administration area and so forth.
I'm sure there was some discrimination going on. There was no doubt,
and he did come across where -- well, first of all, I mean, you

couldn't own land, and there was discrimination that was government
based, and there was discrimination that was society based. And in
those days, a lot of the individuals living on the west side were
narrow-minded in their thinking, and so he was good about it. I think
they expected it at that point, but they were able to really get into
individual by their hard work, and their unity. They really stayed
pretty united. Most of the East Indians were, even though some of them
got married, most of them got married into Hispanic culture or
Hispanic women, they still kept a lot of their Indian traits, and,
and, and they were very, very united. So they undoubtedly had quite a
bit of discrimination, but they as a group were able to really
establish a good reputation of East Indians. And when you have that,
then it was like a status symbol, especially farming, so that was I
think their big benefit that they had was they were skilled farmers
and very frugal people, so they were able to manage that.
>> Thomas Holyoke: Did he enjoy working for Giffen?
>> Harry Brar: He loved it. I mean his feelings were that if I can
make him successful, then he can become -- they were very loyal to
him, and Russell Giffen was a very good employer, and I think the only
reason they would be able to work for him for non-wages. Russell
Giffen, what he did was there was a store and he opened up an account
in his name, and he would tell them you guys can buy all the groceries
you want, but I can't pay you in wages. So in that respect, they would
go and buy what they needed, and they could live, and so it was a very
give and take thing. So they both I think developed quite a good
working relationship, yeah.
>> Thomas Holyoke: Was it still good when Giffen sold out to Anderson
Clayton?
>> Harry Brar: Yeah, it was, although Anderson Clayton being a
absentee farmer, in other words the corporation, and the corporation's
headquarters were in Houston. So, many of the employees that were
already for Russell Giffen kind of moved over to Anderson Clayton, and
so it was a good transition, and so their main ranch superintendent
was actually basically the face of Anderson Clayton. And so he was
from the community, and it was -- I think they were able to have
similar conditions of working standards there, even after the
transition, yeah.
>> Thomas Holyoke: When did you say your grandfather bought his own
land? Because you said he bought a vineyard over by Selma.
>> Harry Brar: Yeah, that's interesting. I would say it's in the late
'50s, but he couldn't buy it in his name at that time. So he had saved
enough money, and there were cases there where Caucasian individuals,
there were lawyers and judges that would actually buy land in their
names, and there was a trust amongst each other, but was paid by the
Sikhs or Indians. And so I think he had -- this was an East Indian who
was his partner who had gotten legal status, and they both got

together and they were partners that bought this eighty acres in the
late '50s. So I would say it was in the late '50s, yeah. In fact, I
still farm that eighty acre piece. It's just a very sentimental piece
for me, realizing that this is what his initial hard work and his
desire to bring his family was to first establish his roots there in
Selma, this grape vineyard. And so it's quite sentimental to us to be
able to farm that piece.
>> Thomas Holyoke: Did he make wine?
>> Harry Brar: No, he didn't. You know what? They did a lot of
moonshining [laughter].
>> Thomas Holyoke: Okay.
>> Harry Brar: There's not wine. East Indians are known for their hard
drinking, and you know I really can't blame them because at that point
in their lives, they didn't really have any form of entertainment.
They worked hard and they were able to -- I can tell you a story about
him. When I came in 1965, '66, I used to go -- we moved to this Hindu
camp, so this one mess hall that used to be his mess hall for his
workers, before he came, he had to make arrangements for his family to
live there. So this was a huge mess hall, so what he did was he
partitioned it into three rooms, and that became our home. And still,
that was a part -- they had these outside bathrooms that were
basically blocked, so we had lived in this home but our bathroom was
outside. We had to walk out and go shower, and just like his workers
did at that point when they were living there. They didn't have any
restrooms or bathrooms single in each barrack. They were just one main
set, so -- but I remember, I used to -- and he stayed in his barrack,
and I used to go and visit him in his barrack and he'd have these old
Indian -- there were these old seventy-eight tracks. You know, in
those days they had the thirty-three discs and then they had a
seventy-five. This was a seventy-eight speed, and he had all these old
collections, somehow ended up -- gotten from India, and these were
songs of old folk songs of India, and he'd have his drink and he'd put
on this song, and he'd close his eyes, and you'd know that he was
being transported back to India. And so that was their main form of
entertainment was to, and a form of relaxation as well, was to have
their drink, if it was moonshine or mainly it was whiskey, but the
whole point is they found methods of relaxing, and that was an outlet
that they had, yeah.
>> Thomas Holyoke: Speaking of this living arrangement you were
talking about, your grandmother and mother were there, too?
>> Harry Brar: Mother was there, and that was interesting. My
grandfather never developed a relationship with his grandmother. So he
petitioned for his son, but he didn't petition for his wife. The
mother stayed back, grandmother stayed back, but what's interesting
was my father was able to petition for my grandmother once he became a
U.S. citizen, so she joined us about ten years later. But my mother

was basically running the house. I mean, she -- we had this home and
then we had this kitchen that we had to walk to, and then these
toilets outside, so it was quite inconvenient, but you know, we loved
it. We enjoyed it because what was really nice was again, it was my
grandfather, although moved some, his reputation that had developed
there, gave-- everyone gave us the benefit of the doubt. We were able
to have our own chickens and cows, and so it was like having our own
little farmhouse. And so basically my mom would have -- she would milk
the cow and we would have our own eggs, and living was very simple.
But it was -- expenses were very little as well, and raising a family
of six, we were able to make do, and again, I remember it as really
just wonderful memories, yeah.
>> Thomas Holyoke: So your grandfather is now farming property in
Selma, but he sort of sends your father over back to the west side to
earn his living.
>> Harry Brar: Yes.
>> Thomas Holyoke: And where did you say your father started working
at?
>> Harry Brar: At Anderson Clayton, yeah. The farm is called Vista
Galeana Farms, and he was an individual who had not worked a day in
his life, and the hardest job that you can do on the west side at that
time was what you call moving these irrigation pipes. You would have
these irrigation pipes that were about almost twenty-five feet long,
and you'd have to pick them up and walk in the mud, and connect or
reconnect them to another thirty feet. So it was all done by contract,
and he didn't really want to work by hour because he didn't want to
work under someone. He wanted to go out and do something that he could
just do his work and come home, but it was the hardest thing you could
do as far as starting out. And he was called irrigation line mover,
and they paid him, I think it was like at that time when he came it
was like ninety cents an hour, but you made a little more if you moved
these irrigation pipelines, so that's where he started. And here he
was I think came in at two hundred forty pounds, really big, and we've
seen pictures of him down to about one fifty, one sixty, because that
was like physical, hard work, but it was what he was -- had only the
skills to do at that point, yeah.
>> Thomas Holyoke: How long did he continue to work for Anderson
Clayton?
>> Harry Brar: We lived there, came in '62, worked thirteen years, and
my grandfather was staying on the farm. We were there and actually it
was very nice to keep them separate because they really didn't get
along [laughter], you know. They actually, you know, like I said, my
grandfather was very demanding. He wanted his son to become successful
fast, but having six children, the hardest thing was to even put them
through school. And I have to say that the greatest accomplishment
that my father and mother did was that they stressed education, and

they said that if anything we do, we're going to educate our kids. And
each and every one of the six siblings have a college degree now, and
it's all due to their desire to make sure that children became
educated. But for my grandfather, he wanted him to make more money and
make land instead of educating the kids, so there were always these
issues of why are you doing this. But I think in their own way, they
had never developed a father-son relationship. They were thirty-six
years apart, and I have to say that I probably, out of all the
siblings, have the closest relationship with my grandfather because he
saw me grow up. He was the son that he couldn't -- I was the son that
he couldn't raise, and he basically -- my sisters and brothers say
spoiled me, and I would be the first to admit that he did spoil me. He
bought me my first car. He bought me my first motorcycle. He was a
tough, tough individual, but I think he had a heart of gold as well,
so. But he lived in Selma, and we lived in Cantua, and in '73, we
moved then onto the farm in Selma after about thirteen, twelve or
thirteen years living out on the west side. And at that point, we had
already -- everyone had graduated from high school and I had gone one
year to West Hills College, so then from there.
>> Thomas Holyoke: You had said earlier that you haven't-- you still
remember the building at San Luis Reservoir and the California
aqueduct with the other canals out there?
>> Harry Brar: Oh, yes. I mean, it's something that you can't forget
because we were living in Cantua. The canal was -- the California
aqueduct or the San Luis Canal was being built in I think it was 1964,
so it was just a thrill to go see this new innovation going through
the valley and the engineering feat that it was, and the huge
equipment and the dirt moving that they did. For us, my dad or friends
of his, it would be an outing to just go see this huge canal being
constructed, and so I clearly remember that going through the valley,
and it just changed the whole face of that valley at that point
afterwards.
>> Thomas Holyoke: Beforehand, your grandfather would have dealt with
this working for Giffen and Anderson Clayton. That was all well water
they were using out there on the west side, right?
>> Harry Brar: Oh, yes. In fact, the well water was not the -- it had
-- let's put it this way. The well water was so deep that at points,
you would think they would pass the oil and hit the water, because
we're talking about going sixteen hundred feet deep to two thousand
feet depth of wells. And these wells were, you know, I mean if you're
going to go that deep, you had these huge casings of about maybe
sixteen inch casings, eighteen inch casings, and they had to, in order
to even get that water pumped from that deep a level, huge motors of
three hundred fifty horsepower motors pulling that water up. And there
were cases where all they were getting was sand it certain times, and
so the sand was being pumped and I remember my dad and grandfather
saying that we were trying to shovel the sand out as much as we could
to make sure we, you know, keep pumping the sand and eventually the

water would come. But he was right there at the point where in order
to even irrigate that land prior to the aqueduct, they were one
hundred percent dependent on well water, and well water was being used
quite a bit in order to farm, and so that was an expensive
proposition, yeah.
>> Thomas Holyoke: And they had subsidence issues over there because
of the drilling for well?
>> Harry Brar: Oh, yes, yes. There were issues in Cantua going to
Mendota. There was this road called thirty-three, which is a state
highway, and I think it's still -- I mean it is still there. It goes
from Cantua -- it goes from Mendota to Coalinga, and you ride that.
When you're on that road, you could see how it was subsiding. It would
just -- the road would just dip and then come back up and dip again,
and it wasn't because it was unleveled. The other pieces were level.
It was just some places of land were subsiding, almost fifteen, twenty
feet had subsided because of all the water that was pulling out of the
groundwater, yeah. A lot of subsistence went on.
>> Thomas Holyoke: The land your grandfather bought at Selma, do you
remember who he bought that from, by chance?
>> Harry Brar: You know, I don't know the name, but I think there were
a lot of Japanese farmers in that area, and I remember clearly that
when my dad was -- excuse me, my grandfather, bought the land, he
still was farming in the west side. So there was this Japanese farmer
named George Okazaki, and he actually was leasing it after he bought
it from them. And I'm not sure if the original sellers were Japanese,
but I know that he had a relationship with Japanese farmers in that
area, yeah.
>> Thomas Holyoke: Did your grandfather own any land on the west side?
>> Harry Brar: No, and that's interesting. When this canal went
through, when it was built obviously, it took them a while to build
it, and I think it was in the late '60s that it finally came into
operation. And so here it was a federal project, and they went in and
decided that in order to benefit the most people from this project,
they I think started enforcing this law that said that if you're going
to get federal land water, you're going to have to -- it has to be one
hundred sixty acre parcels. And so these huge farmers had to figure
out ways to break these huge landholdings into one hundred sixty acre
parcels because that was the only way they were entitled to get land-water from the aqueduct. So at that point, there was a lot of selling
of land going on because they couldn't afford to hold on to all that
land, and my grandfather was very serious about buying land out in
that area. And unfortunately, a lot of politics were involved, too,
and I think there was a lot of discrimination involved as well. And he
tried his best to buy some land in there because he knew it really
forwards and backwards, he'd farmed there so long. We were never able
to buy any land on the west side and it was because a lot of their

preferential treatment was being given to a lot of individuals to
purchase land, I believe, and then taking -- that's what my
grandfather was saying, so we didn't end up buying land there.
>> Thomas Holyoke: Okay, so getting a little more on to you. When did
you start becoming a farmer then on your grandfather's land, or did
you farm somewhere else first?
>> Harry Brar: Well, no. My intention was never to become a farmer
[laughter], and it was like I -- my whole feeling was that my
grandfather, my dad had all of the wherewithal to farm, and I had an
older brother, Iqbal Brar, and he was about eight years older than I.
And he actually got his degree from Fresno State in Agriculture
Agronomy, Plant Science, and ended up working for a company called
Newhall Land Company out in Firebaugh once he graduated. And so here
was my grandfather and dad basically farming this grape vineyard once
they really moved to Selma, and so I figured that that was enough for
them to handle, and I was not planning on going into farming. And so I
got my -- although I did get my degree in Plant Science, I ended up
going to law school and I went to law school at Pepperdine and ended
up getting my law degree. But I think after -- my grandfather always
felt that he had a soft spot for me, and he always was trying to get
me to come back into farming, and he passed away in 1982, and my dad
was also wanting to retire. So I did a little bit of law work in the
'80s after I got my law degree from Pepperdine, and then found -- I
didn't feel that -- this was not the area that I wanted to be. It
wasn't really my cup of tea as far as practicing law. It was something
that I thought -- actually I had gone into immigration law and did a
lot of work because that's how I wanted to help individuals. But it
was something that where my grandfather passed away and my dad was
suffering from some -- also he died at a very young age. He was only
sixty-six when he passed away, so it just kind of fell into my lap as
far as the family operation, so in about the late '80s and early '90s
is when I started farming.
>> Thomas Holyoke: Okay. And this is the property in Selma?
>> Harry Brar: That's right, that's right, yeah.
>> Thomas Holyoke: What were you growing?
>> Harry Brar: Well, in those days it was basically, everything in
that area was permanent crops, so we had some cling peaches and we had
some -- the majority of it was Thompson Seedless, and it was grapes,
and -- but a lot of it had to do with Thompson Seedless. We could
either make raisins or we could sell it to the winery, and you could
also make table grapes, so there was a very diversified variety, so it
was permanent crops, but also the use of that crop was very
diversified, and so we either went to the winery or we made raisins.
Never really got into table grapes.
>> Thomas Holyoke: This is the 80 acres you mentioned earlier?

>> Harry Brar: Yes, actually we ended up buying more land, ended up
buying land, had up to about five hundred acres of grape vineyards in
the '80s and '90s, and so it was everything in somewhere around Manny
Avenue South to Mountain View on Clovis Avenue, yeah.
>> Thomas Holyoke: Who were you selling your wine grapes to? Where
were they going?
>> Harry Brar: Yeah [laughter]. We actually -- and again, it was my
grandfather who again developed a good rapport with the Franzia
Winery. He ended up becoming good friends with John Franzia, and he
had his winery up in Ripon up north, so Franzia Winery, then also John
Franzia, then basically divided his operation into three brothers
called John -- it was JFJ: John Franzia, Joe Franzia, and Fred
Franzia. So basically it wasn't gal, it was Franzia Winery, yeah, is
who we'd sell most of it to.
>> Thomas Holyoke: Okay. And where did you get your irrigation water
from?
>> Harry Brar: Actually, we my grandfather was very astute in
irrigation, so the land that he bought, the first original eighty
acres, he wanted to make sure that there was an irrigation canal close
by. So this irrigation canal actually cuts through our property, and
it's based out of Kings River Watershed, and the district -irrigation district is Consolidated Irrigation District. And so those
eighty acres -- and you know, you really can't call it water rights
that you have, I forget the word that -- it's basically -- it's the
river rights, and it was a canal. But because of the canal went right
through, we actually had plenty use of that water, even though later
it was based on the amount of acreage you had. But that was his I
think attraction to that first eighty acres.
>> Thomas Holyoke: Okay. And that was -- continued to be the source of
water that you would use?
>> Harry Brar: Well, it was blended with well water, and obviously
this consolidated irrigation is priority-- priority to water. There's
Fresno Irrigation District which has priority as far as irrigation
water goes, and then they end up getting the first shot at the water,
and any excess water goes into Consolidated. And so there were years
that were dry and then we didn't get very much rain during the winter,
and so you may not get the entire allotment of water, but you may only
get a couple of irrigations, and the balance had to be used with well
water, yeah.
>> Thomas Holyoke: I want to make sure I get that straight, so this is
water that originally came out of the Kings River, but Fresno
Irrigation District had a much higher priority to the water then
Consolidated Irrigation District did?

>> Harry Brar: That's correct, as I believe that's how it was set up,
yes.
>> Thomas Holyoke: Okay, good. So it's Consolidated Irrigation
District gets whatever water Fresno Irrigation District isn't using.
>> Harry Brar: Yes, although I may be mistaken. I think Consolidated
is based out of the Kings River. Fresno may be based off a different
watershed, but I think the Kings River water goes further south, so
the Consolidated just didn't get priority from other areas, and it may
not be linked with Fresno, and I'm not too sure about that.
>> Thomas Holyoke: Okay. When did you end up retiring from farming? If
you retired, are you?
>> Harry Brar: No, I don't think you ever retire from farming
[laughter]. It's something that I think is in our blood, and I don't
ever plan to retire, but I do -- farming is a very enjoyable
experience I think, but it's so dependent on many factors that -- our
farming operation in the late '90s went through a deep depression. The
raisin industry tanked, and ranch -- farm prices, especially vineyard
prices for raisins, dropped, so not only did we lose -- actually we
were losing on the culture costs. We weren't making any cash flow
there. Our equity in the land just dropped, and where it was worth
nine, eight, seven thousand dollars an acre dropped to three thousand
dollars an acre. And at that time, there were individuals where if you
had grapes on the land, it was worth less than open ground simply
because it was not profitable. You were losing money to farm the
Thompson Vineyards, so individuals were saying, well, I have to pull
it out and it cost more money to pull it out, so why don't I just buy
open ground. And so it came to a point where you become disillusioned
as a farmer [laughter], and you wonder if this is the right field you
want to be in, and so at that point I made my choice and decision that
my sons are not going to go into farming, not on this land, and it was
a tough decision. A very tough decision, because it's ancestral
property. It's something that my grandfather built. But I think in
order to understand that, you know, for the security, financial
security of my children, I made it a point that they have to have a
professional career, and then fall back on farming. And so I plan on
farming the acres that we have left, and then eventually, if they want
to use it as a background or something to fall back on, I think that
would be the ideal thing, yet I encourage them to become professionals
and other areas.
>> Thomas Holyoke: So you intend to hold onto the land?
>> Harry Brar: Oh, yes. That I think is something that I want to
instill in my children as well. It would be too difficult to sell the
eighty acres that my grandfather built, that his heart-- heart, blood,
sweat, and tears built, and his sacrifices have gone into it. In fact,
I have made it a point to build a little monument in my grandfather's
name, and it's there on the farm, and I want to encourage our children

to make sure that he's not forgotten and holding onto the land is the
best way to show future generations that.
>> Thomas Holyoke: Well, now, if you don't really want your children
to go into farming, what does this say about the future of farming?
>> Harry Brar: You know, I'm a farmer but I also do another job, and
this other job is with the USDA. It's called -- it's a branch of the
USDA, and it's the National Agricultural Statistics Service, NASS. So
what we do is we actually gather information for Congress and the
federal government, and I handle Fresno County and Kings County. And
I've been doing that for fifteen years, and it's dovetailed and that's
what farming is, if on a bad year, you have to end up finding
supplemental income in order to survive. My wife teaches, I work that,
and farming is something that is what we want to do as far as what's
been handed down to us. But I'm getting to -- what I want to get to is
my job with the National Agricultural Statistics Service is--is--has
been to relate with other farmers, and what I've noticed is that many
of the farmers that I interview are very much old in age. Many of the
newer generations, the other generations from their families are not
going into farming, and so to answer your question, I would say that
farming -- although I must say is there is a niche where we have now
quite a few East Indian farmers that have come into farming. So the
original farmer's families may be going out of business, but it seems
to me like there's always like there's a big segment of Laotian and
Cambodian Hmong farmers that are now doing a lot of specialized
farming. So farming is changing, and I think changing for the better
where we're getting more diversified farmers coming in. But the oldtime farmers and their future generations are kind of moving out, so
it's changing as far as being more diversified in type of farmers that
-- in our area especially. So that's what I've noticed through my job
with NASS, yeah.
>> Thomas Holyoke: What did you mean by specialized farming?
>> Harry Brar: Well, California has become a specialized farming
state, and specialized farming is anything that's basically not corn,
grain, wheat, cotton, foodstuffs. It's more into fiber and food.
That's basically what farming was all about, and California has now
gone into specialized exotic fruits, vegetables, I guess Hmong
farming. It's grapes, fruit, tree fruits of all sorts, and I think
it's become a very beneficial area, more lucrative in -- but markets
are opening up. Organic farming is more and more in vogue, so that's
what specialized farming is all about, yeah.
>> Thomas Holyoke: Okay, well, any other stories you feel that ought
to be told?
>> Harry Brar: No, I think I really do value the opportunity to share
the stories because I think -- share the stories of what my
grandfather did and what the immigrants of the 1920s and '30s, and at
that time there were a lot of Chinese immigrants as well who built our

railroads and went into farming. Then the Japanese went into farming,
so it was a fascinating time, and it's now actually similar to what's
happening now. We have more Hmongs, I mean a lot more East Indian
farmers coming in as well. So it's a dynamic area, and I appreciate
the opportunity to share the stories of the old-timers that really
gave their heart and soul to the farming of the past.
>> Thomas Holyoke: Thank you very much.
>> Harry Brar: My pleasure. Thank you.

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