Sr. Reporter: A reporter in mine-strike country

Don't call me "jefe," jefe. When photographer Kelly Presnell and I went to the mine's Gate 2 at shift-change last week, dozens of federal police lined the area. Some were on the hill with huge guns, many were along the road with riot shields, battle helmets and in some cases, masks. Their leader, a federal police officer about 25 by my guess, was wearing a mask and was very happy to see us photograph them. Clearly they were bored. But he kept talking to me in a whispery voice, with a Mexico City accent, saying things like "Asi es, jefe," and "Como lo ves, jefe?" I had a growing foreboding that he was going to turn on me, but he seemed to soften when I gave him and every riot cop under his command a business card and directions on how to find the story about them online.

In Cananea, you're never far from a labor expert. I was working on my laptop in the restaurant of the hotel where I was staying, and I told a waiter about my story. Before long, I was embroiled in a long discussion with the bartender, a retired mineworker of course, about the worthiness of the strike that began in 2007 and the details of past contracts. One benefit was a card that got them into movies free.

A twenty-something waiter joined the conversation and gave the best, simple analysis of the union's current position that I've seen. He took a stack of cocktail napkins and said that in 1989, when the government declared the Cananea mine, the union's contract was this thick, and he moved the whole stack of napkins over. Then Grupo Mexico took over in 1991, and it was this thick he said, removing about a quarter of the napkins. Then there was the 1998 strike, and the resolution left the contract this thick, he said, removing about half the napkins. Now there were only a few cocktail napkins left, and, he said, that's today's contract.

This was all from a guy perhaps 27 who hadn't worked at the mine, but whose father, grandfather and uncles had.

The loitering proletariat.Pass by the downtown Cananea offices of Sección 65, the local of the National Miners Union, and you're likely to see a couple dozen or more people hanging outside the doors. It looks like they're just hanging out. But when I talked to them I found out this is actually scheduled "guard duty." The union members believe that the replacement workers will come back as a mob and try to burn the union hall down.

Escape to Esqueda. Presnell and I had planned to travel to Esqueda, Sonora, an hour or two south of Agua Prieta. But persistent strong rains on Wednesday ruined our plan. Workers at the smelter near Esqueda recently joined the National Miners Union (the "Mineros") after three years with a more corporate-friendly union. The timing is interesting -- their conversion happened just when the Mineros in Cananea, having lost all their legal battles, needed some leverage in their conflict with Grupo Mexico. The foundation workers gave it to them. I hoped to find out how that happened, and why the nearby Nacozari mineworkers hadn't followed suit.