𝙎𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙚, 𝙈𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧? 𝘼𝙡𝙡 𝙄 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙓𝙢𝙖𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙀𝙖𝙧𝙣 𝙖𝙣 𝙃𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙉𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙡.

By Rene Torres

It all started probably in 1892, when Jesse O. Wheeler, then owner of the Brownsville Herald, wrote in one of his first editorials about the fact that they were too many “muchachos” (a term he used to describe Mexican kids) begging in the streets of Brownsville.

The column headed “Little Locals,” suggested the following: “If some of these muchachos who go around the streets begging would get a box of blacking and a brush, they would earn more by blacking shoes than they can by begging. A few picayunes would set a boy up in the business, and could easily be gotten by subscription. A town the size of Brownville without a boot black in the streets is without a parallel in the United States.”

Wheeler's words did not go unnoticed—soon after, in that same year and just in time for Christmas, Alex Parkerson, made history by opening the first “Shine Parlor” to serve Brownsville’s seven thousands souls. Still later the “local kids” caught the idea, and thus “Shine, Mister?” was born.

Moving forward…

As Brownsville progressed and its population grew—more and more kids were seen in the streets reminding you that your shoes looked shabby.

But starting in the business was not an easy proposition; there was the cost of buying your own liquid, brush, grease and rags.

And if you think that rags were plentiful, think again. A rag was a precious commodity back then—and people held on to them. At one point, the Brownsville Herald was adverting that it would pay 5c for a piece of rag.

Shining shoes was not a seasonal trait, as many boys, who liked the sound of jingle in their in their pockets, would work after school to make extra money.

But the best time of the year for the business, according Reynaldo Barrientos and Alonzo Gaznares, two young enterprising Brownsville young men, was during the Christmas season.

In the late 1940s, Herald staff writer, Joe Oliveira interviewed Rey and Alonzo and what follows is their story:

It was two days before Christmas and the boys were up early to beat the competition, but the day started, unfortunately with a slow morning. So they took a break and stood in front of a downtown display window and said:

“Look Alonzo, see that super duper Buck Rogers flare gun. That’s what I hope to get for Christmas.”

“Yes, replied Alonzo, “it sure is beautiful, Reynaldo, but take a look at that cowboy outfit.” 

Later both admitted that a new shoeshine box would be a good gift too.

Alonzo 11, and Reynaldo 12, went on patrolling the streets shining shoes and running errands for whatever they could earn. In fact, Alonso had a second job cleaning a downtown studio.

“I’ve had a slow morning, earning only 25c” said Reynaldo. “But maybe I’ll make enough this afternoon to buy a gift for my parents. As they spoke their last words to the roving reporter, they turned around and walked away giving the famous old cry, “Shine mister? Five cents.”

Thanks to the police department, various department stores and local civic organizations, Pedro and Alonzo, along with 1,500 underprivileged children enjoyed a “Merry Christmas,” as all received toys, candy, fruits and other gifts.

No, the government did not help the “Shine Boys” of then to set up their own business. Nobody was waiting around for a handout—it was an era when everyone had to work to make a living.

It was also a period when boys and girls created their own after-school programs. They were so active and since fewer calories were around to be consumed, most had a well-defined ribcage. If you know what I mean.

It is not known whether Pedro and Alonzo made enough money to buy their parents a gift or whether Santa got them the flare gun or cowboy suit, but you can rest assure that the Monday after Christmas, both boys were on the streets again, hustling to make an honest nickel.

Photo: unnamed Brownsville kids…ca. early 1900s