By On the occasion of our 20th anniversary
By Gustavo Arellano
By R. Scott Moxley
By Alfonso Delgado
By Courtney Hamilton
By Joel Beers
By Peter Maguire
By Charles Lam
Despite its achievement, Doss v. Bernal disappeared from history, never making it into legal proceedings to be cited as precedent, not even in Hernandez v. Texas, the 1954 Supreme Court decision that found Mexicans were afforded protection from discrimination under the 14th Amendment. It’s in a few academic books, usually garnering a sentence, maybe two. No Orange County history book mentions it, and no historian the Weekly contacted for this story had ever heard of the case.
The case’s biggest champion has been Luis F. Fernandez, a graduate student at Cal State Fullerton who will receive his master’s degree in history this month. In preparation last year for the comprehensive exams that were part of his graduation requirements, he learned about the Bernal case in a book called Labor Rights Are Civil Rights: Mexican American Workers in Twentieth-Century America. The discovery of the Bernal proceedings “blew me away,” says Fernandez, a Garden Grove native. He shared the find with his fellow graduate students—none of whom believed that housing covenants against Mexicans ever existed in Orange County.
Fernandez has researched the case intermittently since, hoping to publish a scholarly paper on the case and eventually do a book about the segregation Mexicans faced in Orange County. “I want to show that Mexicans were not docile or passive, as historically portrayed, but rather resisted,” he says. “It’s amazing no one picked up the Bernal case, but it’s typical Orange County: It’s one of those stories that show we imagine a different community than it really was.”
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Part of its uncelebrated status is attributable to Bernal himself. He never lived in the Sunnyside house after the case was decided. Just two years later, Esther died of cancer at 29. A heartbroken Alex kept the house, but he moved in with his mother and rented out his property. Once his daughters were older, he bought another house in Fullerton. He sold the Sunnyside property in 1965; the neighborhood is now almost exclusively Latino.
“It was a very traumatic experience for Dad,” says Irene, who seems every bit the sweet woman her shock of white hair and granny spectacles would suggest. “He never talked about it to anyone.”
One day, as teens, she and Maria Theresa joined their father on a visit to the Sunnyside house. While looking through their late mother’s jewelry in the garage, the two came across an album with letters and documents. They asked about their father about the album—the very album Irene would present to her young siblings decades later. “We kind of knew they had trouble with the house, but he held the story from us,” Irene says. “That day, Dad told me the whole story.”
He never mentioned the case to Irene or Maria Theresa again.
Life moved on. Irene herself experienced housing discrimination during the 1960s when she tried to rent an apartment in Fullerton despite her light skin; when she sent her white husband to do the same, the young couple got it with no problems.
Maria Theresa married a man who lived across the street from the son of Virginia Schrunk, one of the plaintiffs who had sued the Bernals. She didn’t mind. “You can’t hold something against a son who didn’t do what was done,” she says.
Bernal married for the third time in 1970 and started a new family. (A second marriage ended in divorce.) He never told them about the housing discrimination case, either. They knew Marcus, as he had become a family friend, and they knew Bernal carried the attorney’s business cards all the time in case someone needed a lawyer. They also knew Bernal admired Marcus so much that he named a son after him. “He always had the nicest things to say about Marcus,” says his widow, Maria, in Spanish. “That he was a great man who fought for Mexicans.” Bernal also discussed the case with her once, she says, just mentioning how stressful the experience was and nothing else.
In his later years, family friends would find Bernal walking the streets of his old neighborhood, asking anyone who would listen that he needed to go home—to the house on Ash Avenue. He eventually succumbed to pneumonia and Alzheimer’s disease at age 84 on Jan. 3, 1999.
A couple of days later, the Fullerton Observer called his family.
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“We care about fair housing and all things that have to do with diversity,” says Sharon Kennedy, editor of the twice-monthly Observer. She speaks from experience: As a small girl, she remembers accompanying her parents during the early 1950s as they gathered signatures in support of a Chinese family who had moved into their Fullerton neighborhood and were experiencing racism. Her brother Rusty Kennedy heads the Orange County Human Relations Commission. And their parents were among the founders of the Orange County Fair Housing Council, which helped African-Americans battle housing discrimination in the county during the mid-1960s; one of the couples the organization helped was Lincoln and Dorothy Mulkey, who were denied an apartment in Santa Ana because they were black. Their lawsuit, Mulkey v. Reitman, went all the way to the United States Supreme Court in 1967, where a majority ruled housing discrimination against renters was illegal, the last significant victory in a battle that began with the Bernals.