It’s 4:50 a.m., and the Eugene rain is tapping on the tin roof around the courtyard. The smell of baking pastries emanates from an open door. The sound of a fork scraping a mixing bowl occasionally clatters above the rain.
“Ayudame preparando (Help me prepare),” says Miguel Cortez,@@http://www.manta.com/c/mm41j3p/cafe-siena@@ manager of Cafe Roma located on East 13th Avenue, to his wife and co-manager, Maria. He nudges the door open with his foot as he carries pastries through the courtyard to the display case in front.
Miguel and Maria Cortez will make and sell more than 500 pastries Monday — a large number, but small when compared with the 1,400 customers they average per weekday during the school year. When they started managing the cafe in 1990, they were catering to only 250-300 customers per day.
The tale of how their lives were transformed from working in a small farming community in rural Mexico to managing a successful coffee shop and renting out two homes in Eugene — all while having received no formal education beyond the age of 12 — has its roots embedded in a single concept.
“Sometimes you need to have a heart, no much books. You need to have a heart and courage in order to do something,” Miguel says. “The education is good, 100 percent, but you need to have heart and courage.”
Miguel Cortez was born and raised in Tepatitlan, Jalisco.@@http://tinyurl.com/7lxx9qf@@ There, he started working at age seven with his 13 siblings on the family farm. He also started school at that time. At 12, Miguel stopped attending school to work on the farm full-time. He continued working there until he was 21, when he moved to Berkeley, Calif., in search of better opportunities.
Two years after coming to the United States, he was on a vacation to Mexico when he met his wife, Maria.
“Sept. 2, 1973, was when I met her the first time,” he says.
Maria and Miguel blush when they discuss the date, saying they still celebrate that day each year.
“I went there once and I met her. I had known her for almost a year (before we married),” he adds. “I had known her family for many years, but not her.”
Maria’s version of the story is slightly different.
“My first memory of him was when I was 12. I saw him, but he was looking at my sister and not me,” she says, smiling. “I was 18 when we met officially. It was very nice.”
Immediately following their marriage in Mexico, Miguel returned with Maria back to the U.S. The first years in Berkeley were a challenge for Maria, who had lived with her family in Mexico her whole life.
“It was very difficult for me because we are 12 brothers and sisters. I have all my family there. I was almost the only one helping my father to bring money home,” she says, referring to the clothing factory that she worked at before they married.
The Cortezes started working in the coffee business in 1986, when they were offered work in Portland@@I changed this to “starting” to work in the coffee business, as this is the first mention of it@@. Then, in 1990, a man named Sandy Boyd @@website is dated, but it covers the years mentioned here http://boobaz.net/roma/@@offered them the opportunity to manage a cafe in Eugene.
“July 7, 1990. It was a great day, a great move,” Miguel says. “We never forgot that day. It’s a beautiful thing to get the opportunity.”
Boyd, the CEO of the Espresso Roma Corp.@@Only a reference to him being president, not CEO     http://www.manta.com/c/mm7j514/espresso-roma@@, tempted Miguel and Maria with an incentive if they could provide him with the receipts of more than 1,000 customers in one day — a free trip to Mexico.@@I left it as CEO because I couldn’t find a reputable site saying otherwise.@@
“Before eight months (were over), I give him my receipts (showing more than 1,000 customers),” Miguel says, laughing. Boyd paid for their flights on their next trip home. “You need to make really good pastries and have good service. I give my life to the business.”
The Cortezes have been at work making pastries by 4 a.m. each morning — six days a week, every week — for the last 20 years. Miguel estimates that they spend roughly 50 or 60 hours at work per week. Because they go to bed at 6 p.m., they don’t have many friends outside of work.
“From my point of view, it’s one person doing the same thing,” Maria says about working with her husband. “Him and I, we are very connected.”
By 7:30 a.m., a steady stream of customers is coming through the door. The air fills with the ding of the cash register, the hiss of steam from the espresso machine and the scratching sound from printing receipts.
“Hi, can I help you?” Miguel asks. His mouth has been so trained in the phrase over the past 40 years that it’s as natural as breathing.
Maria is still working in the kitchen, but as the cafe awakens, she returns to the front more and more frequently, helping out the others. She tells a story to Miguel. They laugh softly. They are in love.