Stepping into the street, with cars whizzing close by, Campos rights his cart and turns north into a warren of brick warehouses, barbed wire and lonely streets.
Just before noon, near the corner of Anderson and 7th streets, he greets Ruby Are- llano, a 22-year-old fruit vendor. Three weeks before, she was selling fruit in East L.A. near Atlantic Boulevard when city inspectors took her cart and merchandise. So she moved here. Business has been slow.
"Two years ago, it was pretty good," Arellano says. "Right now, there's not a lot of sales."
The two vendors commiserate. The streets are empty. Arellano gives Campos $1 for a cup of shave ice.
He walks a few blocks and pokes his head into an olive packaging company, where a receptionist picks up the phone and asks a co-worker whether anyone wants anything.
"Do you want an elote?" the receptionist asks, using the Spanish word for corn. "The elotero is here. . . . Entonces, no? You don't want me to get you one?"
The receptionist buys two corncobs. Campos jams sticks into them and slathers them with mayonnaise, granulated cheese, butter and chili. The midday heat has kept the corn hot, even without the water. Campos wipes his brow and pushes on.
This route used to yield more sales. Now, the warehouses seem to have fewer workers than before. Some businesses have closed or relocated.
About 12:20 p.m., he waits outside a garment shop for workers to take a break, near the peeling, beige pillars of the 4th Street bridge. A few of the workers owe him money, he says.
Tired of waiting, Campos walks inside. A handful of workers sit in front of sewing machines; bundles of clothing lie on a long table.
"Right now, there's no work," says one employee as he walks outside to buy a shave ice. "They pay good, about $8.50 an hour. But there's not a lot of work."
Nearby, two Mexican immigrants -- a middle-aged woman and an elderly man with a 10-gallon hat -- beg for money to catch a bus to Paso Robles. They say a smuggler who spirited them across the border left them in Fontana early this morning and a Christian group brought them downtown, with instructions to ask sympathetic Latinos for help.
Campos is suspicious. He says the pair has been here about a week, drinking beer under the bridge.
"Well, everyone struggles how they can," he says with a shrug. He skips lunch, as he does most days now, trying to lose weight and save money.
