Give Me a Kiss

By kiki

Early this morning, as the Babe and I were sitting in bed watching TV, I asked her to give me a kiss; she asked me "why? I answered her "just because" again I asked her for a kiss, this time she said, "whatcha gonna do?"

Albondigas Con Homemade Tortillas

                                             By kiki

Been sick with a cold for the last week or so, but today the darn cold was really wreaking havoc on me. I think Connie felt sorry for me because she told me that she was going out, she did, and she came back with all the ingredients to make albondigas, she also bought a bag of Masa Harina flour to make tortillas. As she was giving her rolling pin a good workout she questioned herself "why am I doing this?" I told her she was doing it because she loved her family and besides she is a grandma, make that a great-grandma, and that all Mexican grandmas make homemade tortillas. She looked at me and told me "don't you for one minute think I am buying your b-s" I told her "I don't care if you buy my b-s or not; just as long as that rolling pin keeps on rolling" The albondigas and tortillas were the bomb!!

Johnny and Juana La Loca

By kiki

In the early '50s, a friend of mine, Johnny from Pico, got busted with a roach. He was taken to the Whittier Courthouse, where he stood before a man-hating female judge who offered him a deal if he pleaded guilty, six months in the county jail; Johnny asked for time to think it over, and the judge agreed with that. Then, she told Johnny she would release him on his own recognizes and granted him two weeks to think it over. 

Johnny's mom wanted Johnny to go see Juana La Loca. Juana La Loca, who lived next door to my grandparents, Papa Tony and Mama Maria, on Ibsen Street in Pico, was what we now call a community activist; in other words, she knew and was into everybody's business. So Johnny said okay; he would go talk to Juana La Loca. So Johnny went and told Juana the deal he was offered.

"Don't worry, Johnny, I know the judge; I'll talk to her for you and get her to give you a better deal, maybe thirty days, no more than that. Does that sound better than six months? huh, Johnny?" 'Hell yes, it's better than six months, ' Johnny thought.

When the two weeks were up, Johnny and Juana La Loca went to court; Juana told the judge that Johnny would plead guilty but that she wanted to speak for Johnny before she passed sentence, the judge, who already knew La Loca told her to go ahead and talk.

Juana La Loca got up and talked and talked and talked and said nothing, and when she was done talking, the judge told Johnny to stand up as she was ready to pass sentence; she gave Johnny nine months! "What happened, Juana? I got nine months instead of six, and what happened to the thirty days?" "Johnny, I didn't tell you that this judge hates men, look at her; she is closed to eighty years old and has never been married; you got screwed, son, sorry 'bout that." 

But the court trial junkies knew that La Loca had talked Johnny into a longer sentence by talking and talking and not saying anything...

The Honey In The Mini Skirt

By kiki

One morning as I was at the USC Norris Cancer Center lab waiting room waiting to see the vampire, a lady walked in, she was at least six feet tall, and she looked to be in her mid-80's. She was wearing spiky high heels and a short, skintight mini skirt, but what struck me was her peroxide-blond hair which was stacked in a three-story bouffant and with not a single hair out of place. With tons of makeup, she looked to be some kind of rent-a-tart from vintage Las Vegas. But she was probably a placid, gentle soul. The honey dear found a seat across from me, and while seating down, she crossed her legs in a wide arch and started giving me the eye. I looked her straight in the eye, and we both smiled.

The Teamsters Gym

 By kiki

My first time stepping through the doors of the Teamster Gym was around 1949 when a friend and I rode the bus and streetcar from the Simons Brickyard to watch boxers train. I immediately fell in love with that gym—and its people. 

The smell of sweat and Wintergreen Oil smelled like roses to me. The doorman was a cranky old guy, Joe Kelly, who, even though he only weighed about 110 pounds, would grab you and throw you out if you didn't pay the two-bit entrance fee.

The cast of characters that made up the Teamsters boxing family were elite fighters, trainers, and managers of the Los Angeles boxing golden era. Eddie Futch trained Don Jordan. Johnny Forbes trained Gil Cadilli, Frankie and Juan Luis Campos, Keeny Teran, Carlos, Al Chavez, etc. Louie Jauregui and Bob De La Fuentes managed Rudy Jordan, who became a well-known referee. Also under their wing was Hank Aceves, a top main eventer, and some top prelim fighters. Unfortunately, Louie and Bob had a falling out and went their separate ways with their fighters. Louie managed Butch and Dave Contreras and co-managed Mando Muniz to world title fights against the great Jose Napoles and Carlos Palomino. Bob went on to manage his sons, Ray and Orlando De La Fuentes. My apologies to the trainers and fighters that I unintentionally missed naming.

Hoyt Porter had mostly amateur fighters, with one or two pro fighters. So Hoyt was my first "professional" trainer. I fought a few amateur fights for him and then finished my amateur boxing career with Louie Jauregui; I never fought pro because I knew I was not a good fighter. 

Some of the prominent boxers of past eras who trained in that storied building were Lou Bernal, Fabela Chavez, Bernard and Maxie Docusen, Don Jordan, Lauro Salas, Rudy Jordan, Rudy Garcia, Gil Cadilli, Cisco Andrade, Hank Aceves, Dave, and Butch Contreras, Carlos and Al Chavez, and Keeny Teran—and the list goes on and on!

In the early '60s, after I had stopped boxing, I would still go to the Teamster on Saturday mornings just to work out and spar with the young guns. During those Saturday morning workouts in 1964, I introduced my two older boys, Frankie, and Tony, to the sport of boxing. The boys took to boxing the way ducks take to the water. They were soon winning multiple Junior Golden Gloves titles. My other son, Bobby, would later join the team; he also won several JGG titles. Frankie and Tony went on to have excellent professional careers. Bobby had six pro fights and called it a day, which was okay with me; I was never one to tell them, "you have to fight."

In the early 1950s, with the backing of the Teamster Union, Louie Jauregui and Johnny Flores started the Junior Golden Gloves. In 1965, I became the tournament director and was so for ten years. In those ten years, we had kids come through the program who had stellar boxing careers. Some became world champions, some top contenders, and, to be honest, some didn't win more than twenty-five percent of their fights—but to their credit, they fought on when the odds were against them.

Today that old building is still there, but the gym was closed years ago. So all that remains of the storied Teamsters Gym are the ghost of those great and, yes, some not-so-great fighters that trained there, fighters who I would like to think are still shadow boxing on the wooden floor of that old gym, with old Joe Kelly yelling at them, "you better not spit on the floor!"

                                                  Teamsters Boxers

Circa 1965: Far left, Tony Baltazar, third from left, Tony "Boo" Campa, fifth from left, Frankie Baltazar, the Teamsters honchos, far-right in the white Tee's, left Arturo Cordova and Richard Ruby

                                 

Making Tortillas

By kiki

I remember my Jefita hunched over a table with her rolling pin making tortillas for my Pops and us kids on a wood-burning stove back in the days of my youth in the Simons Brickyard. She kept making tortillas for many years after we had moved to Pico, but now on a gas-burning stove, hey! We had moved up in the world!! So then, one day, she went to the local market and saw some machine-made tortillas. 

Pops sat down for dinner; a basket with warm tortillas was on the table waiting for him. But o Pops surprise, they were not mom's tortillas "hey, what is this? These tortillas are not your homemade tortillas," my Pops asked mom "I bought these tortillas at the market, and from now on if you want tortillas; this is what you're getting," mom told Pops. Pops kept getting the store-bought tortillas for the rest of his life; he was not a happy camper, to say the least!... Soon after mom stopped making him tortillas, he asked Connie, "Connie, do you still make tortillas for kiki every day?" Connie told him that, yes, she was still making tortillas every day after getting home from work. "Connie, you don't need to do that anymore; just buy him tortillas from the store" "good idea," said Connie. So now I am lucky to get homemade tortillas once every six months.

One day I told pops, "pops, you ruined a good thing for me when you told Connie to buy the tortillas instead of making them" he put his arm around my shoulders, and with a twinkle in his eyes, he said to me, "well Mijo, if I can't have homemade tortillas, neither can you" Ay pops!! How I loved that man!!

La Jefita

When I remember the camps / And the nights and the sounds / Of those nights in tents or / Carts I remember my jefita's / Rolling pin / Clik-clok; clik-clak-clok / And her small cough. / (I swear she never slept!)--Jose Montoya