Crazy Times At The Olympic Auditorium

By kiki

I was at the Olympic Auditorium for this 1951 fight, and decades later, I can still hear the crowd's roar as Art Aragon was pounding Johnny Gonsalves against the rope.

                                               John Adame

My uncle John Adame, who spent all his life in a wheelchair, was one that I would go to the fights during the late '40s and early '50s. We would go with uncles Ray Gonzalez AKA Rata, and Tony Ramos. Because of his situation, John would get to sit ringside (in his wheelchair) with a general admission ticket while Tony, Rata, and I would have to sit in the nosebleed section, which I didn't mind because that was where all fun was.

                                         Ray "Rata" Gonzales

                                   

                                         Tony Ramos

I can still vividly remember those days. It was during Los Angeles' Golden Era of boxing. In those years, the Olympic Auditorium was packed to the rafters week in and week out. And parking was paramount to all. We would usually find all the close-bye parking lots full so that we would park about 3-4 blocks away, and because I was the youngest, I would get to push John in his ride. Once I had wheeled John out of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk, I would push him as fast as I could, and John, while hanging on tight to his ride, would be cursing me with every cuss word he could think of.

                  The Olympic Auditorium was packed to the rafters.

The beer-guzzling sold-out crowd at the nosebleed section always sought ways to entertain themselves while waiting for the fights to start. First, they would get rolls of toilet paper from the auditorium's bathrooms and throw them around the gallery. Next, some of the fans would bring their wife's/girlfriends underwear: bras and panties, and that too would be flying around the gallery, but not to be outdone, some fans would get female Kotex pads, and some of the most daring guys would put red paint on the pads. Finally, the guys, already with a beer buzz, would throw the woman's underwear and female Kotex pads at the females in the crowd. Finally, young teenagers like myself would make paper airplanes, and we would fly them from the upper gallery down to the ring.

I will always be grateful to my uncles for giving me a chance to experience those crazy times at the Olympic Auditorium. Sadly, all three uncles are gone, but I still have those memories they left me.

Las Piscas 1947

 By kiki

Edit by Phil Rice

Juan Garcia was told by his dad that they were going up north to work the piscas. Juan was eleven years old and looking forward to what he thought would be an adventure since he had never been out of the Los Angeles barrio where he lived. He was ready to go see the world.

"Pops, when are we going?"

"As soon as Manny," as Manuel Fernandez was known, "fix his truck, Mijo."

Juan was so happy to get out of the barrio that he ran to tell all his friends. "Guys, we, the whole family, are going up north to work the piscas," he proudly told his friends.

"What are the piscas?" asked Chuy.

"I don't know. My dad just said the piscas," Juan replied.

Two days after Manuel had finished fixing his truck, he told Juan's dad, Jose, that it was time to go up north. "Pack only what's necessary, Jose. Don't want to put too much weight on this old truck." Packed and ready to go, Manuel told his wife Lupe, son Tony, and daughter Maria to help Jose, his wife Elsa, Juan, and his three younger siblings to pack.

On the Road

With Elsa, Lupe, and the kids riding in the back of the truck, they headed north on Highway 99. Elsa and Lupe packed some burritos before they left the barrio so they could eat as they went up the Ridge Route. After eating, the kids, happy to be out of the barrio, sang songs they'd learned from their parents.

The 1938 Ford flatbed truck with side panels was running great as they pulled into a gas station in Bakersfield. "Okay, everybody, use the restrooms while I gas up. Jose, can you check the oil?" said Manuel.

Back on the road, Manuel says to Jose, "The oil companies are robbing us. Can you imagine fifteen cents for a gallon of gas?"

"And ten cents for a quart of oil," said Jose.

"We better make lots of money in the piscas," both said in unison.

Juan pulls the hair on his six-year-old sister, Rosa, making her cry. "Juan, leave Rosa alone. Just wait until we stop again; you are going to be sorry!" said Juan's mother, Elsa.

"Mom, I'm not doing anything to her. She is just a crybaby," Juan replied.

"Don't believe him, Mom. He is pulling her hair," said Juan's seven-year-old brother Luis. Juan punched Luis in the arm, making him cry.

"Cabron! Just wait! I'm going to give you some chingasos when we stop!" said Elsa. When they stopped in Fresno, Juan jumped off the truck and tried to hide from Elsa, but Elsa got him by the ear and yelled, "Cabron! I told you to leave your brother and sister alone; now behave yourself!"

"But, mom, I'm bored. Are we almost at piscas?" said Juan.

"Piscas is not a place. 'Piscas' is work,” said Elsa.

"Whatever. Are we almost there?"

"No, now just behave yourself. Be good like Manuel's kids." As Elsa said that, Tony pulled Maria's hair, making Maria cry.

"A la chingada! These kids are going to drive me to drink. Compa, let's have a beer," Jose said to Manuel.

"Jose, you start drinking, and you will get some chingasos," warned Elsa.

Back on the road without drinking a beer, Manuel said, "you're afraid of your Vieja, Jose."

"No, I'm not afraid of her; I just let her think I am. That way, we can keep the peace."

North of Madera, they headed west on California State Route 152 and stopped in the small town of Los Banos for gas and to use the restrooms. Then, after resting a bit, they got back on the road, went over the Pacheco Pass straight to U.S. 101, north to San Jose, and arrived at an apricot ranch waiting for them.

Las Piscas

Since apricots grow on trees, only Jose and Manuel could work picking them. Lupe and Elsa worked at a place where the apricots were cut in half and put out to dry. Once the apricot harvest was done, they went south to Hollister to pick plums. They quickly found work at a ranch where all the kids would be able to work. They would get down on their knees and pick the plums off the ground from the oldest to the youngest. Then, from sun-up to sun-down, they would work.

In the mornings, as they worked, the kids could see woodpeckers pecking on the trees, something they had never seen before.

Juan's brother Rudy wanted his pop to buy him a bike when they got back home, but he didn't like working, so he would fall asleep under the trees.

"Pop, look at Rudy. He's asleep, and he wants you to buy him a bike," Juan would say to his father.

"Well, he is not getting a bike if he doesn't work," was always Jose's reply.

Juan began giving instructions to Juan and Lupe. “Vieja, get the burritos. First, I'm going to light a fire so we can warm them up. Then, Juan, right after we eat, you check the boxes and make sure they have our number. We don't want to get cheated; we work too hard. Now wake Rudy up and tell him it's time to eat." After lunch, it was back to work till sun-down.

With dinner done, it was time to relax a bit. The men would get a fire going, play their guitars, sing, and drink beer or two. Twelve-year-old Tony, Manuel's son, was a favorite of the men because he could sing like Pedro Infante, and Tony and his eight-year-old sister Maria would sing duets for them.

"Tony, sing some songs we can dance to," Manuel asked.

"Let's dance," Manuel said to Lupe as Tony started singing a corrido. Soon all the adults were dancing, and the teenagers were drifting off to hide behind the trees and do what teenagers do.

Sundays were a day of rest. First, Jose and Manuel would take their families to church, and afterward, they would go into town, do a little shopping, and get something to eat. Then, they would return to the ranch early so everybody could rest for the next day's hard work.

Time went by fast, and the harvesting was almost done. Soon it would be time to go back to Los Angeles. Jose and Manuel would return to work at the jobs they had left behind at the Simons Brickyard, and the kids would all return to school. But first, Manuel had to fix the rear axle on the truck.

"Pinchi axle! Picked a good time to break," said Manuel to Jose.

"Watch your mouth, Manuel. That's no way to talk in front of the kids," said Lupe.

"Sí, Manuel. Watch your mouth, or your Vieja will lay some chingasos on you," laughed Jose.

"Let's show these pinchi Viejas we are not afraid of them. So go get some beers, Jose," said Manuel. But, unfortunately, the truck didn't get fixed that day.

Finally, the day came to a head back home. Harvesting was finished, and the truck was fixed. Then, Manuel and Jose went to see the boss to get paid. After deducting what they owed the general store, the boss paid Manuel and Jose $1,450.00 and $1,600.00, respectively.

Packed and ready to head home, Manuel helped Lupe onto the back of the truck.

"Aí Vieja! With all this work, you would think you would have lost some weight. But, instead, it looks like your love handles got a bit rounder, que no?"

"I wouldn't talk if I was you, cabron. Look at your beer belly," shot back Lupe.

Jose looked at Elsa. "You better not say a word, Jose," warned Elsa.

"I'm not saying anything, Vieja," said Jose as he turned around and mumbled quietly, "but you did gain some weight too."

Heading Home

It was decided that Manuel and Jose would take U.S. 101 south instead of Highway 99. Heading west of Hollister, they stopped to check out the mission in San Juan Bautista.

"You ladies look around. Jose and I are going this way," said Manuel to the Viejas.

"Where are we going?" Jose wanted to know.

"To taste some vino, Jose, to taste some vino! But don't let the Viejas know." Lupe and Elsa were waiting for them as they got to the wine-tasting room.

"What took you so long?" Lupe and Elsa said in unison as they laughed.

"Let's taste some vino, and you can buy me a bottle so Lupe and I can drink it while we ride in the back of the truck," Elsa said to Jose as she took him by the hand and led him to the tasting room.

Back on the road after buying a couple of bottles of wine, they headed south, stopping in King City to buy something to eat. After eating, Elsa brought out a bottle of vino and said to Lupe, "Look what I got here."

"What are you waiting for? Open it. We'll show our Viejos we can drink, too," said Lupe. After a couple of glasses of wine, Lupe and Elsa were feeling happy.

"Tony, get the guitar, sing some songs," said his mother as the truck rolled down the highway. Lupe and Elsa, feeling the wine, joined in singing old Mexican songs.

Jose looked out the window and yelled at Lupe and Elsa," Are you Viejas drunk?"

"No, Viejo, just feeling happy," said Elsa.

Now, it was Lupe who brought out a bottle. "Want some more, Elsa?"

"Sí, why not? Open it." By the time they stopped in Paso Robles, Elsa and Lupe were drunk but feeling happy.

After gassing up and using the restrooms, they were back on the road. Elsa and Lupe had fallen asleep when the truck started making a loud noise. Manuel pulled over to the side of the road to see what was wrong.

"I think it's the axle again," Manuel said after looking.

"I can fix it. I have some extra parts, but it will take some time, a day or more. We will have to camp here tonight," Manuel explained.

"Do we get to sleep under the stars, Daddy?" asked Manuel's eight-year-old daughter, Maria.

"Sí, Mija. We get to sleep under the stars. Lupe, we will have to cook dinner here, so get the small gas stove I brought from LA. Good thing I bought some gas for it, too," said Manuel.

While Manuel and Jose worked on the truck and Lupe and Elsa cooked dinner, the kids played on the hills alongside the highway. Nine-year-old Rudy climbed up a mountain. As he started coming down the hill, he couldn't control his momentum and ran head-on into a hollow oak tree, suffering a few scratches and bruises.

By the time they were done with dinner, it was too dark to work on the truck, so they all sat around in a circle singing along as Tony played the guitar.

Late the next day, the truck was fixed and ready to go. So, with all aboard, they started down the highway, rolled into Santa Barbara just before dark, and decided to spend the night on the beach. The next day everybody went swimming before they started on the last leg of their trip home.

Back in the barrio, Jose and Manuel went back to work at the Simons Brickyard, the kids went back to school, and Lupe and Elsa returned to keeping house. Rudy got his bike.

A month later, the families met for carne asada, guacamole, hot salsa, Arroz, and homemade tortillas to discuss their adventure at the piscas. "Jose, think you want to go again?" asked Manuel.

"Sí, if it's okay with the Vieja, I would like to go again."

"Sí, it would be okay, but not for two or three years," said Elsa, with Lupe agreeing.

While this story is peppered with real-life details, it is still a work of fiction (which means I made stuff up)

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Seasons come and seasons go.

By kiki

With the end of summer coming up, I hear people complaining about how hot the summer has been; I really haven't felt the heat because I stay most of the time indoors. The same goes for during the winters. Being cooped up in my room, I miss the seasons as they come and go. 

Monke - Uddle Burgers

 

By kiki

Connie said that I complain too much. She told me that when she heard me mumbling to myself, In' n' Out, burgers and fries are not what they used to be. And they are not. I noticed the last 3-4 times we bought that the fries and lettuce needed to be fresh.

The best burgers I ever had were the hickory burgers Pops used to make at Monke-Uddle in East L.A. - Pops, back in the late '50s - the early '60s, would make Connie a special burger with homemade salsa. Maybe it's just nostalgia yearning for a burger that perhaps never really existed. Still, I can't remember a better burger than the ones Pops would make in his little stand that sat in the parking lot (behind the stores) on Kern Ave. - We would wash those great burgers down with a bottled soda - Hell, I trust nostalgia to be right on this one!!

Charlie "El jefe" Baltazar

The late Charlie "El Jefe" Baltazar was once busted for loitering in front of the local 7-11 store. It cost me $300.00 to bail him out; I tried to get a bail bondsman to put up a bond for him: but no one would touch him unless he surrounded his passport: flight risk, they said. Passport? Hell! El Jeje doesn't have a passport. The dude doesn't even have migra papers, much less a passport.

David Benavidez vs. David Lemieux, & Canelo Alvarez

 By kiki

Connie and I watched the Benavidez/Lemieux super middleweight fight last night. It was a lopsided fight from the get-go. Young Benavidez won by a third-round TKO; he was too big and strong for the 33-year-old shop-worn former middleweight champion Lemieux. Rumors have it that Mexican superstar Canelo Alvarez has turned down 40+ million dollars to fight Benavidez, and after watching Benavidez last night, I can understand why. Alvarez has won world titles in two or three weight divisions (with so many weight divisions nowadays and 4 or 5 champions in every division, it's hard to keep track of all the champions). In his last fight, Alvarez lost a lopsided battle to Dmitry Bivol for the Russian's world light heavyweight title.

Benavidez is a good fighter who, in my humble opinion, would be too good, big, and strong for Alvarez. I think that Benavidez would stop Alvarez in the middle/late rounds. In my opinion, Alvarez is a good but not a great fighter; I have always said that he is too mechanical, and I believe that he is as good today as he will ever be. Benavidez is the better fighter of the two, but I also feel there is room for improvement. In last night's fight, I liked how he jumped on Lemieux when he had him hurt in the first round, but I didn't like how he went about it; Connie, too, didn't like it. "He's kind of wild in there; he needs to learn how to faint to place his punches," she said.

But that being said, I would love to see a Benavidez/Alvarez fight in September during the Mexican holiday day. I'm not sure what the holiday is about; all I know is that we drink lots of tequila on those days. My son James will be more than happy to pay the PPV fee if they fight.

Keana D. Baltazar

On 5-26-2021, we lost our beautiful and sweet 24-year-old granddaughter Keana Baltazar. Keana, a phlebotomy technician, went home to be with the Lord; may she rest in peace.

We, the family of our beloved daughter, sister, granddaughter, and cousin, Keana D. Baltazar, would like to thank you all for the support and love you have shown us during these challenging and dark times. Keana's extended family very much appreciates the thoughts and prayers that you have sent our way. Please know that we love you all with all of our hearts.

Keana's Family.  

6-24-2021

The Rosary and viewing will be held for our granddaughter Keana, and I am not sure I can deal with it. You see, I don't believe Keana left us because she still lives in my mind, and I still have hope against hope that she will walk in on us at any time. And seeing her tonight in her casket would dash all my hope and beliefs away, and I'm not ready to lose that. So, I'm torn between two choices, go and see her and deal with reality, or stay home and wait for her to come and visit us. I hope that whatever choice I make is the right one. It's a hard decision because I want to remember her as she was, not as she is.

New Chapter In Life's Journey

 By kiki

Well, folks, I have entered a new chapter in my life's journey: one without wheels: I sold my truck. My old Chevy Silverado had been sitting for most of 2021 due to my age and multiple health issues. Connie has agreed to chauffeur me around in her car under one condition: that I sit in the back seat and be quiet. I told her: no problem, as long as you open the car door for me the way chauffeurs do for wealthy people in the movies: you don't want to know her reply.

Below are some stories I wrote about my experience with the DMV      

In December 1952, I turned 16. A few days after my birthday, I needed to go to the DMV office on Whittier Blvd in Montebello, Ca. to get my driver's license.

I asked my uncle, Ray Gonzales, to take me to the DMV. Since I only had a driver's permit, I needed a licensed driver to drive me there and his car to take my driving test. Uncle Ray said he couldn't take me because he had to work, but I could use a 1948 Chevy Coupe car. So I drove myself in Uncle Ray's car to the DMV.

I arrived at the DMV early the following day, parked the car in the driver's testing line, walked into the office, and told a lady that I was there for my driving test; after doing some paperwork, I was told to wait outside for a driving examiner. 

Soon, an examiner called me to take my test; he asked me which car I would use to take my test; I pointed to the Chevy Coupe. Then, he asked me who drove the car to the DMV office, I saw a man standing about 50 feet from us, and I pointed to him and told the examiner that my uncle Ray did; the examiner waved to "Uncle Ray" "Uncle Ray" waved back with a look that said "what?"

"Let's do it" yelled the examiner. We got in the car, and he asked me if the brakes worked; I said: "Yes, sir." He told me to step on the brake pedal; I did, and the pedal almost went to the floor.

"Not much pedal there, son," said the examiner.

I told him the brakes work fine if I pump the pedal a bit; I then showed him by pumping the brake pedal.

"Okay, pull into traffic," he told me as he closed the car door.

I pulled into traffic on Whittier Blvd, and about a quarter-mile away was a stop sign. As I started pumping the brake pedal to make the stop, the examiner jumped out of the car and told me to fix the brakes or get another vehicle. As he returned to the DMV office, I drove to my Uncle Frank Arriola's place in Simons. I asked him if he could take me to the DMV, again like Uncle Ray; he said he couldn't but that I could use his late-model Desoto. In the early afternoon, I drove back to the DMV in Uncle Frank's Desoto and took the test with the same examiner. I passed the test but was told I needed to practice parallel parking. 67 years later, I still haven't mastered parallel parking.

Well, I did it!! I passed, not with flying colors, but I'd passed the renewal exam...You are allowed to miss 3 out of 50+ questions, and I missed 3...But this is what I can't understand if you're a first-timer in getting your license, you are allowed to miss 6 questions, but for renewal, only 3; it would be the other way around. Que no??

The eye exam was touchy. First, the examiner had me read some letters with both eyes, which I did. Then, with a sheet of paper, he covered my left eye and asked me to read line number 3 on the chart with my right eye "can't," I told him; he then lifted the sheet of paper off my left eye a bit so that I was now seeing with both eyes, I read the line. Finally, he told me, "you passed" That guy must have done his residency with Doctor Bernhart Schwartz, who examined boxers for the CSAC. Half-blinded fighters would get their boxing license by seeing Schwartz because some of those half-blinded fighters were mine…..This brings to mind this great song, "with a little help from my friends" Not sure I got the song title 100% right, but you all know the song I'm talking about. Que no?

December 13, 2018: on my 82nd birthday, my driver's license expired. I received a renewal notice from the DMV around the end of October. The information said to call the DMV for an appointment for an office visit (to take a written and vision test and pay $35.00). On the first week of November, I called and was told that the earliest appointment I could get was on December 28, two weeks + after my license had expired. I bitched to the lady I was talking to about not driving. She told me she was putting me on hold while she checked other, within driving distance offices. She came on the line and said she was sorry but that there were no earlier openings. She apologized for the DMV failings and advised me not to drive after my birthday. "but I need to go places," I yelled at her. She yelled back, "Ride your skateboard" Damn freaking DMV!!

True Love

 By kiki

In 1959-60, Connie and I rented a duplex on Ferris Ave and 6th St. in East Los Angeles. The Ferris duplex was next door to the Los Angeles County Health Clinic. And one door north of us was a two-story apartment complex where an elderly couple lived. The old couple could be seen day in and day out, drinking beer all day and night on their second-story porch.

One early 1960 Saturday spring morning, as the sun was rising, Connie and I were awoken by a loud commotion from the apartments. As I jumped out of bed, I told Connie, "I'll be back in a bit." She wanted to know where I was going "next door to investigate." So I yelled as I ran out the door. As I ran out the door, I saw the cops putting the old lady in the back of a black and white cop car. And some other cops walked the old man, with blood running down from his throat, to the county clinic. The story I got from a talkative cop was that while the old folks were drinking on their porch, the old man passed out, and his lady didn't take kindly to that, so she pulled out her old switchblade from her Pachuca days and proceeded to slice her partner's throat. When asked why she would cut her man's throat, she replied, "he drinks too much."

Things in the hood were back to normal for a while, with the lady in jail and the man at the clinic. Then, about four o'clock pm that same Saturday, the old couple were spotted up on their perch drinking beer out of quart bottles. It must have been true love between the senior drinking partners.

Mid-20th Century Americana

 

By kiki

This photo depicts America as I knew it in the middle of the 20th Century. It was also the America that Connie and I witnessed during our trip to get married in Yuma, Arizona, in 1954 via America's then two-lane roads. For better or worse, America was, in many ways, in a transitional period. For many of us, it was a farewell to innocence; for others (despite seeing 'Whites Only" signs in Yuma), it was the beginning of a long-overdue time of getting their right to be treated as equals. America has come a long way in race relations, but we have yet to be there.

 Rant on Facebook bullshit

I'm writing this rant from my Facebook jail cell: I was sentenced to a 24 hrs time-out by the Facebook bosses for trying to post a Youtube video on my sister's Marina page. (she is fighting Covid) Through a Q & A session, the video had a doctor explaining vitamin D3, how it works on the body, and how it helps combat the Covid-19 virus. Well, the Facebook bosses, in their infinite wisdom, threw my brown ass in their jail. They accused me of spreading Covid-19 misinformation. They said that I was not following Facebook community standards. What community standards, I ask! After turning a blind eye to 4 years of lying from trump's supporters (some are today still saying here on Facebook that the election was stolen), the Facebook bosses came up with standards against a vitamin D3 video I tried to post in good faith? BULLSHIT, I say!! And I'll repeat it again, BULLSHIT!! - We, who have suffered early on from the Covid-19, try to help those that are now suffering, and for the Facebook bosses to say that we're, when we really are not, spreading disinformation is just plain wrong.  

If I am kicked out of Facebook, I can say to you, friends, that it is nice to have known you.