1950: was the year I turned 14 years old. Nothing happened that year aside from going to the Olympic Auditorium to see Art Aragon trash my hero Enrique Bolanos and having Kelly, my good friend Beto's brother steal our rabbits for his wedding dinner. Going to the fights was something I did all through the decade.
1951 was when I got my first tattoo ("kiki"-51-) on my right arm. Went to see Art Aragon fight Jimmy Carter twice, with Keeny Teran fighting on the undercard in the second fight. Also got to see Enrique Bolanos fight Eddie Chavez and Keeny fighting Gil Cadilli on the same card at the Hollywood Legion Stadium. Late summer-early fall went to Moorpark, Ca. to pick walnuts, had a great time in Moorpark, and fooled around more than worked.
1952: was the year that the Simons Brickyard became part of history, a history that left us with some bittersweet memories, sweet memories because even though we were dirt poor, we still led a happy life, bitter memories. After all, we had to leave the only home we had known. It was in August that we left Simons for good. We jumped on my dad's '41 Ford Woody and headed north to Hollister, Ca. where we found work picking plums, and after we were done with harvesting the plums, we worked picking grapes in a mountain range called "El Gavilan," after fourteen straight days of picking grapes we headed back to SoCal. It's funny how things turn out; picking grapes was a family thing, and my older and now late sister, Rachel, hated it. But, some thirty years later, she and her husband Bob owned roughly 175 acres of vineyard in Napa, CA. We lived with my maternal grandparents in Pico, now Pico-Rivera, Ca, until my dad could find us a house. In late '52, I started working the weekends at Miller's Car Wash in Whittier, Ca. I was now ready to buy my first car with a part-time job, which I did in December; I purchased a 1938 four-door Chevy that ran more on oil than gas for 55 dollars at five bucks a week.
1953: was a nondescript year; besides meeting girls, nothing much happened; going to school, working the weekends at the car wash, and cruising while listening to Hunter Hancock and Joe Adams play R&B music on my ride was the order of the day.
1954: started out the same as '53. That was until April, when I met Connie. In the summer, after working up north for a bit, I started working full-time at the car wash, and that gave me enough money to put oil in my car and take Connie to eat at "The Spot" on Olympic Blvd. in Montebello, Ca. Sunday's were paydays; I would get off work at 2:00 PM. I would go pick Connie up at her house in Jimtown, and we would then go to The Spot and order a pastrami dip for each of us, after eating it was time to cruise the barrios, Simons, Canta Ranas, Jimtown, El Ranchito, Hicks Camp, etc., etc., and of course, E.L.A.
As summer turned into fall, our relationship got serious, and in December, we decided to get married; it was an excellent way for Connie and me to end the year. But, unfortunately, on Christmas Eve, Connie and I were lying in bed listening to R&B music on a small table radio when the D.J. broke the news that the great R&B singer Johnny Ace had shot himself while playing Russia Roulette. It was a sad ending for what had been, up until then, a great year.
1955: was a time for both Connie and me to get used to married life, I went to work full time at a car dealership (paint shop), and Connie stayed home; it was a quiet year., and not much happening.
1956: was a big year for us; after nearly two years of marriage, our first child was born, our beautiful daughter Linda was born on August 21; I remember going to pick Connie and baby Linda up from the Los Angeles County General Hospital with my late sister Mary Ellen's then-boyfriend, later husband, Danny, and goofing off like kids in the hallways of the hospital. Connie and I spent the rest of '56 bonding with our baby.
1957: was again a quiet year. I watched Linda take her first steps as she turned 1 year old; it was also the year I turned 21, and I could now legally drink a beer. Unfortunately, I can't say how old Connie was without getting jailed.
1958: was another big year for Connie and me, with our first son, Fernie, born on April 14. He was later known in the boxing world as Frankie Baltazar JR. Not long after Fernie was born, a friend of Connie's asked her if she would like a job; after we talked it over, she decided to take the job, which is how I became a kept man later in our marriage.
1959: we spent all our free time watching Linda and Fernie grow and do what kids do. - The '50s, with all its flaws, was a great decade to become of age.
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