Bill on Migrants Splits a Town With Few
What Some Called a Preventive Measure Seemed to Others an Effort to Fan Biases

By Pamela Constable
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, January 15, 2008

TANEYTOWN, Md. -- There are fewer than two dozen foreign-born residents in this historic but ailing town of 6,700 near the Pennsylvania border, including a Mexican landscaper and a Chinese family that owns a restaurant on Main Street. There are no store signs in Spanish, no crowded boarding houses, no men looking for jobs on the corners.

Yet this month, the bitter regional and national debate over illegal immigration has reached remote Taneytown. It has divided local officials, drawn activists and TV crews to town meetings and exposed deep emotional fault lines in a small, largely white farming community that feels both afraid it might be overwhelmed by poor Hispanics who are in the country illegally and ashamed it might be tarred as racist and intolerant.

The focus of the fast-sharpening dispute has been a City Council resolution, which was narrowly defeated Monday night, that declared: "The City of Taneytown is not a sanctuary city for illegal aliens." It warned that the town "does not welcome individuals who are in the United States illegally," suggesting they would harm the quality of life. It would have directed local officials to assist residents in supporting the enforcement of federal immigration laws.

Paul Chamberlain, the council member sponsoring the resolution, acknowledges that Taneytown has no problem with illegal immigrants. But he sees an apocalypse coming: the gangs, the trash, the crowding that communities in Maryland, Pennsylvania and Virginia have attributed to an influx of impoverished, often undocumented Mexicans and Central Americans. And he hopes that putting up a virtual keep-out sign will steer them away from the corner of Carroll County.

"This is a preventive measure. Other places are passing laws against illegals, so where will they go? To the places that welcome them," said Chamberlain, a dapper man who sells recreational vehicles. "I am not trying to spew hatred against anyone, but I will not cower just because someone calls me a bigot. We have got to send a clear message that people who break the law are not welcome here."

The resolution's defeat was partly the result of strong opposition from Mayor James McCarron, who called illegal immigration a federal problem. A majority of council members agreed with him, voting 3 to 2 against the resolution.

In the January issue of the Taneytown Newsletter, McCarron called the resolution "an attempt to inflame and divide the city."

"Taneytown is not a sanctuary city for illegal aliens, and it has no intention of ever becoming one," the mayor said in exasperation. "It is not up to us to fix the problem of illegal immigration, but I assure you that anyone who breaks the law here, whether robbing a bank or being an illegal alien, will be prosecuted."

Nevertheless, the proposal has struck a raw nerve in the region of family farms and country traditions, where old barns slowly sink into the rolling hills and modern development has been even slower to replace them. Union troops famously stopped here for a few nights in 1863 on their way north to the decisive battle at Gettysburg. Now Taneytowners worry that their struggling community will become a magnet for unfamiliar forces of change.

On Wednesday night, at a crowded public meeting in the volunteer fire hall to discuss Chamberlain's resolution, the room seethed with suppressed emotion, and the debate barely remained civil, with jeers and cheers interrupting many speakers.

A few residents called for compassion toward refugees or said they were embarrassed to see officials pandering to ugly emotions. Gail Wilson, a resident, said Taneytown had worked hard to overcome the historic taint of racism and become known as a welcoming community. "This resolution could bring back the hostility we fought to get rid of," she said.

The sole immigrant who spoke, a Mexican landscaper and legal resident named Rafael Zamora, said he had moved from Germantown to "build a better life for my family." Apologizing for his thick accent, he asked the town to give people like him a chance, and he received a smattering of polite applause.

But supporters of Chamberlain, including two activists from Montgomery County, were wildly applauded when they implored the council to pass the resolution, saying it would send an important message to Maryland and the nation.

"If the federal government can't or won't fix the problem, we in small towns must do it. Maryland is already a sanctuary state," said Pamela Robbins, a hospital worker who spoke about a patient, in for an expensive test, who had no identification or insurance and could not speak English. "Sometimes you have to step back from saving the world and save the little piece that belongs to you."

Away from the heat and glare, residents expressed more complicated, often contradictory opinions. Many said they were worried about reports of foreigners flooding larger towns in the region: the Hispanic laborers who came to pick apples in Pennsylvania and stayed, the Muslim group that is trying to buy a farm in nearby Walkersville and turn it into a retreat. Yet no one reported having any negative encounters with immigrants, and a handful of employers praised them as hardworking.

"I can get along with just about anybody," said Wilson Speak, 64, a veteran driver and warehouse worker at a Southern States feed and grain depot. "We don't see a whole lot of migrants around here, but my feeling is as long as they're legal, pay their taxes and abide by the laws, I have no problem with it."

Kevin Few, 42, a construction worker, said Hispanic migrants are driving down wages in Maryland and making it hard for people like him to find work. "Personally, 99 percent of them seem nice, clean and hardworking," he said. "But they come here, do our work for nothing, cram into apartments and buy new cars, while the rest of us are struggling to make ends meet. It's not fair."

At the local McDonald's, retirees meeting for coffee said they were not aware of Chamberlain's resolution but were nervous that illegal immigrants would come to the area. One woman, who said she was afraid to be identified, explained, lowering her voice: "If I tell you my name, the illegals might look up my address and come after me. They've already broken the laws, so what do they care?"

Across the room, two Mexican ranch workers sat unnoticed in a corner, eating burgers and fries. They said that they earned $25 an hour cleaning stables in the countryside and that the local people seemed friendly enough. One, Jose de la Luz, 27, offered an opinion about how to revitalize the area's economy.

"This place is nice, but it has no life," he said in Spanish. "What it needs is more Hispanics. You go to other towns in Maryland, you see them everywhere, shopping in Wal-Mart, working two jobs, buying stuff for their kids. I think a lot of Americans are afraid of us," he said with a grin. "But I say we are bringing life to this country."

Like their constituents, Taneytown officials have mixed views on illegal immigration. They worry that a flood of poor Hispanic workers would hurt the town but realize that something has to change for it to survive. Carl Ebaugh, a City Council member, said he supported Chamberlain but regretted that that issue had "gotten a little ugly."

"Fear is driving this -- fear of the unknown," Ebaugh said. "We need to get past this bump and onto other issues, such as our problems with water and sewer, the need to develop more industry, more useful ways to spend our time."

But anger was the dominant mood in the fire hall Wednesday night, anger expressed in jeers and whoops that McCarron had to stop repeatedly. As one activist from Montgomery spoke, warning that illegal immigrants would bring crime and burden public services, a Salvadoran woman named Ana Cruz listened in the corridor outside.

"How can they talk about us like that?" said Cruz, 53, weeping with rage.

"I worked hard for 27 years. I never asked for anything. I cleaned houses. I raised four children. They are all citizens, and two of them are in Iraq now. I want to say this, but I am afraid," she said, turning to leave. Inside the room, the activist kept speaking, and cheers erupted.