LATIMES.COM S SUNDAY, AUGUST 25, 2019B3
ESSENTIAL CALIFORNIA
History
usually be-
longs to the
conquerors,
or the es-
teemed
academics.
But some-
times it also
gets told by
whoever most carefully
corrals all the pieces and
wrestles them into place.
The Chicano Research
Center, a storefront library
on a rundown stretch of
Stockton’s east side, is the
product of one Central
Valley man’s obsessive,
expansive quest.
Richard Soto, a 75-year-
old, semiretired educator,
has spent the lion’s share of
his life building his collec-
tion of Chicano literature
and history — first as a
young man hungry to learn
more about his own identity,
and later with the dream of
someday sharing it with the
public like this.
He opened the Chicano
Research Center as a non-
profit in 2016. All are wel-
come to come in, and Soto
will probably offer you coffee
at the door. He estimates
that he has about 20,000
books, journals and ephem-
era (along with cases of
corrido-filled CDs and LPs)
housed in this former
panaderia.
He built the bookshelves
lining every inch of the room
himself, with $3,000 worth of
pine wood (including his
10% U.S. veteran discount)
from Home Depot.
The library is organized
according to the self-de-
scribed “Soto” method,
starting with indigenous
history in the front corner of
the room furthest from his
desk, and wrapping all the
way around to the present
day, with labeled sections
based on historical periods
and events, individuals and
other topics. (The library’s
focus includes Mexican
history as well as Mexican
American history: “One of
the things that I learned is
that you can’t read Chicano
literature, and appreciate
and understand it if you
don’t know Chicano Mexi-
can history,” Soto ex-
plained.)
The walls are brightly
punctuated with art, flags,
and framed awards and
accolades from Soto’s ca-
reer as an educator, as well
as a certificate honoring
him for his bravery as a
Brown Beret medic during
the Chicano Moratorium.
Soto’s collecting quest
began when he was a young
man, just back from Viet-
nam and participating in
the Chicano Movement. He
went looking for the books
that would speak to his
story — as a Mexican Ameri-
can born in the United
States — but the books he
wanted didn’t seem to exist.
“I wanted to know what
contributions had we made
and what had we done,”
Soto said. “And for me, I
always wanted to know why
people hated me. You know,
I pretty much let people
alone, but for some reason
they had this, I don’t know,
hereditary hatred for me.”
During his two years at
San Joaquin Delta College,
he “found all of maybe five
books.” He went to Sacra-
mento State and “found 10
more.” It was only when he
left Sacramento for San
Francisco that he started to
really find what he was
looking for, at a now-shut-
tered progressive bookstore
called Modern Times in the
Mission District.
After getting his master’s
in counseling from San
Francisco State, Soto re-
turned to his Central Valley
hometown of Tracy, where
he worked as a high school
counselor for nearly 40
years. He’d loan his stu-
dents books to learn their
history and build their self
esteem, parceling out po-
etry or history or biography
depending on what they
seemed to need.
“There’s so much beauti-
ful Mexican history. There
are so many dynamic Mexi-
can men and women, social
political activists that have
done something that is just
not out there,” he said. “So, I
started buying all this stuff.”Time marched forward
and all the while he quietly
built his collection, bit by
bit. He bought what he
could, when he could and
stored it where he could.
“Everywhere I went, I cre-
ated a room for all the
books.”
When he officially re-
tired, he took another full-
time job teaching at an
adult school. Suddenly, he
had an income and a pen-
sion.
“I had a lot of extra mon-
ey. So I thought man, I’m
gonna really hit this,” he
recalled. He would turn to
the bibliographies in history
books and mark off every-
thing he already had, to see
what was still missing. Then
he would spend a few hours
every morning on EBay,
looking for discarded library
books.
And finally, he found this
space and carefully reno-
vated it to house and share
his glorious, sprawling
collection.
“Most people, when they
come here, they’re over-
whelmed,” he said. “They
can’t believe that something
like this exists.”Why it matters
that San
Francisco
banned cashless
stores
Trying to describe the
outpost of the fast-casual
chain Organic Coup at 10th
and Market streets in San
Francisco feels a little like
unpacking a series of Bay
Area-themed Russian nest-
ing dolls.Yes, it’s in a fancy food
hall, but that food hall is
also on the ground floor of
what’s colloquially referred
to as the Twitter building.
Yes, it’s in the Twitter build-
ing, but the corporate of-
fices for Uber and Square
are both within a one-block
radius. Yes, the kiosk serves
fried chicken sandwiches
and tater tots, but it’s also
USDA-certified organic
fast food. And yes, after
swiping your credit card or
using Apple Pay to finish
your order, the air-chilled,
coconut-oil fried chicken
you receive will be encased
in performatively woke
packaging with slogans like
“Taste the revolution” and
“Eat your peaceful protest.”
But, until recently, the
one thing you wouldn’t be
able to find at Organic Coup
was a cash transaction. Like
a growing number of largely
fast-casual restaurants in
both San Francisco and Los
Angeles, as well as other
cities, Organic Coup had
been entirely cashless. Now
that will change.
In May, San Francisco’s
Board of Supervisors voted
unanimously to ban cash-
less brick-and-mortar busi-
nesses, citing the need to
keep San Francisco as an
inclusive place for all resi-
dents. The ordinance, which
requires stores to take cash
and doesn’t apply to pop-
ups or food trucks, went into
effect on Friday.
Sure, you can barely
afford your rent, and the
fancy condo construction
down the street means
there’s worse news to come.
But amid gentrification
wars, rapid displacement,
crushing homelessness
rates and the occasional
EPCOT-ization of cultural
authenticity in our down-towns, relatively little ink
has been spilled over the
cashless trend — and what
it says about the future of
our cities.
There are a number of
very legitimate reasons a
business might prefer to be
cashless, ranging from
security (no cash-stuffed
safe to be robbed) to effi-
ciency (less time spent
counting bills between
orders) to cost (banks
charge a fee on cash depos-
its).
But the net effect still
remains one of exclusion.
Take Organic Coup, for
instance. It’s definitely not
dirt-cheap, but with most
meals priced at $9.99, it’s
exactly the kind of relatively
healthy, relatively afford-
able restaurant that should
be applauded for its acces-
sibility to a diverse range of
customers. Remove cash
transactions and it becomes
a place where only certain
kinds of people are wel-
come, and others are sys-
tematically barred from
participating in economic
life.
“For many San Francis-
cans a ‘no cash’ sign is tan-
tamount to a ‘not welcome’
sign,” District 5 SupervisorVallie Brown, who intro-
duced the ban, told the San
Francisco Chronicle.
There is plenty else to be
said about what types of
stores and restaurants are
intended for whom (and
who else may be priced out).
But at the bare minimum,
transactions should be
accessible to all residents, if
they choose to partake.
In Los Angeles and San
Francisco, targeted exclu-
sion of the homeless is a
frequently cited complaint
around the rise of cashless
establishments, but the
customer base being filtered
out actually extends far
beyond the unhoused.
An estimated 8.4 million
American households are
“unbanked,”meaning they
do not having a checking or
savings account. Unsurpris-
ingly, low-income individu-
als and people of color are
far more likely to be un-
banked. In 2017, 17% of black
households and 14% of
Latino households in the
U.S. had no bank account,
according to federal data.
The percentage of black
and Latino San Franciscans
without access to bank
accounts — and therefore,
likely unable to participate
in cashless transactions —
could be staggeringly
higher. A 2005 study com-
missioned by the city and
cited by the Board of
Supervisors estimated that
as many as 50% of black and
Latino households in San
Francisco could be un-
banked.
With their cashless ban
now in effect, San Francisco
joins Philadelphia, New
Jersey and Massachusetts
in barring cashless stores
and restaurants. A few
months ago, Sweetgreen, a
famously cash-free purvey-
or of upscale salads, also
announced plans to intro-
duce cash transactions at
all locations by the end of
the year.
Paper money is plenty
antiquated, and our ulti-
mate future will undoubt-
edly be cashless. But while
we’re still muddling through
the here and now, it might
be worth taking a look
around that cool, cashless
coffee place that just
opened around the corner.
Who is it for, and who don’t
you see?With the Essential
California newsletter, you
will get quickly up to speed
on the stories shaping
California — from our pages
and beyond. You’ll also get
original reporting and
in-depth conversations on
the issues that matter most.
Delivered to your inbox,
Mondays through Fridays,
with a week in review on
Saturdays. Sign up at
latimes.com/
essentialcalifornia.Book by book, he’s fulfilling his quest
JULIA WICK
ABOUT 20,000 BOOKS,journals and ephemera fill homemade shelves at the Chicano Research Center in
Stockton. “There’s so much beautiful Mexican history,” said Soto, 75, a semiretired educator and Vietnam vet.RICHARD SOTO,who participated in the Chicano Movement, was disappointed by how few books he found on its history. His life’s work is to help preserve the story.
Photographs by Julia WickLos Angeles TimesEducator builds
library to share
his collection of
Chicano history
‘For many San
Franciscans a “no
cash” sign is
tantamount to a
“not welcome”
sign.’
— Vallie Brown,
San Francisco County
supervisor, speaking to the
San Francisco Chronicle