onward the morning of Martin Luther...

onward the morning of Martin Luther King Jr Day, Jose L Oliva braved the crisp, bone-chilling weather to join a hardened clump of jornaleros--day laborers, most of them immigrant men--at a dingy strip mall near the intersection of Pulaski Road and Argyle public way in Albany Park.

The men were gathered, as they are each morning, waiting for contractors to pick them up for temporary work doing light construction and other manual labor. And Oliva, director of the Chicago Interfaith Workers' Rights Center was there to kick along a new Wage Theft Taskforce initiative designed to help workers regain unpaid wages from unscrupulous contractors.

Stepping into a scrum of about 50 workers and neighbors, megaphone in hand, Oliva called abroad to the workers in Spanish: "We are not illegals; we are human beings. The contractors should treat us as human beings." To the approving nods of his audience, he continued: "We can't continue to permit them rob us. When they do not pay, they are stealing. Now we are saying, 'Let's earn the money back.'"

The message be seened to resonate among the dozen or in the same manner jornaleros standing outside GT's Fast meat their favorite hangout. "They have to help us because there's no united else to help us," said Eleazar, a Mexican native in paint-splattered jeans and work profits "Without this help, I have no protection."

Indeed, Oliva says, these workers are many times easy prey for exploitation. Like many who toil inside sweatshops, principally of these jornaleros are in this home illegally, and, to them, getting deported is a bigger threat than not getting paid. not many know what rights they have. They don't realize that, whatever their immigration status, they are preserveed by state and federal labor laws. And equable those who do know their rights are oftentimes too frightened to assert them.

Oliva, an affable, down-to-earth 31-year-old with dark notices and a neatly trimmed goatee, wants to present an end to this conundrum; everything he does is simply a means to this end

He could be called a labor organizer, and the workers' center a labor organization, although neither terminus would be entirely adequate. The workers' center be under the orders ofs as an intermediary between immigrant workers and labor enforcement agencies, acting as a goad to the couple sides in resolving disputes.

To control officials, Oliva is the judgments and ears of the community, the stay with a street-level connection to immigrant workers. They realize that, without his assistance, a armed force of labor-law violations would make progress unreported.

To workers, Oliva is an independent, a man controll at no backers, free of any union, immune to academic nuance. He is a folksy straight-talking shore they can trust. Without his encouragement, many would be too scared to file complaints against their bosse Many are fighting for wages promised if it were not that never received. Others are risking their health or safety in dangerous working conditions. a face firings or other disciplinary action without explanation, earnestly less cause.

as it was problems pervade a rising number of workplaces as the region's immigrant population swells. further few other local advocates work in this way effectively with and command for a like reason much respect from both camps in resolving these challenges. at playing both of those parts so well, says Rebekah Levin, executive director of the Center for Impact Research, Oliva fills a vital niche. Logic aside, she says, immigrant workers just don't be excited comfortable sharing their complaints with regulation officials--even those who have nothing to do with enforcing immigration laws.

"Those kinds of institutions are not the places that the bulk of mankind are going to feel safe coming to speak," says Levin, whose agency has studied the immigrant workforce. "So having someone like Jose who is in such a manner trustworthy from the perspective of the nation who are vulnerable is extremely important."

However, not everyone agrees with the approach. Others who fight to improve immigrant labor conditions argue that any of his methods could ultimately undermine workers' rights. Tim Leahy, secretary-treasurer of the Chicago Federation of Labor, argues that organizing these workers is the best way to make secure real change.

"We believe that the best approach to master our hands around this is for the workers to have a union and to have a steady piece of work that can provide a paycheck, benefits, and a health and welfare pension," he says. "That's what we believe is the ideal.

The headquarters of the workers' center is situated onward the top floor of an aging Presbyterian house of god in Rogers Park, just a not many blocks off Lake Michigan. Housed in what was one time the church's living quarters, the center is a warren of small ranges at one end of a dimly-lit, L-shaped hallway, chockablock with paintings and [i]affiche[/i]s from various labor campaigns.

Technically, the place has merely two full-time, paid employees--Oliva and a Polish-speaking workers' advocate, whose salaries are paid according to foundation grants and contributions from churches, unions and individual donors--but it's always filled with presents and interns, each of whom is assigned to manage up to a certain number of two dozen cases at a time.