The Great Nora Pfaffle

Here is Dad, shirtless, displaying a pair of pruning shears as Nora works to transfer leaves to a second container.  Often we went over to Nora's house in Burbank to help her clean up her yard.  Here, Dad stopped for a minute to take a picture with Nora.  Note Nora's Falcon parked in her one-car garage.  Her house was at 1342 Alameda Avenue in Burbank.  

Nora Pfaffle (November 24, 1904 to December 1, 1982) was a friend of my dad's from work in LA County.  

from SortedByName.

I don't know what she did for work, but in her retirement years she was awfully generous to me, Tom, Joe, and my dad.  She would take us out to breakfast, first to Bob's Big Boy, then to Van De Kamp's, then to Vern's.  After breakfast, we'd often go back to her house at 1342 Alameda Avenue in Glendale, CA.  As Tom, Joe, and I became of high-school age, we'd often walk over to Joaquin Miller Elementary School, the local elementary school, to play basketball on the asphalt courts.  We were never bored for a minute.

Nora is pictured above at the right with one hand holding the other in a polka dot dress.  My dad is pictured in the dark suit in the back row, third from left.  Conroy is to the right of him in the light suit.  I wished I had the year of this photo.  I am guessing 1960.

I want to tell a funny story.  My dad used to take us over to Nora's place in Burbank when me, Tom and Joe were in high school.  My dad and Nora had a falling out, and we went over to her house less.  But Nora remained in contact with me.  She would call and ask for me, inviting me over to go out and have breakfast with her.  Dad appreciated the fact that I kept in touch with her.  So did I for generosity toward the family grew more concentrated on me as I came closer to graduating high school.  In fact, Nora purchased for an aptitude test for me from the Johnson O'Connor Research Foundation in Los Angeles.  She spent $260 back in 1977--that is still a lot of money today--to help me figure out what to do with my life instead of withering away for years at manufacturing jobs.  I enjoyed those jobs--Colamco in San Dimas, UPS in Baldwin Park and on Olympic in Los Angeles, Steamboat Fried Chicken in Duarte; okay, the last one is not so much a manufacturing job.

 

The aptitude test concluded that I would be a good nurse.  Talk about disappointment!  I wanted to be a writer and expected the test to reveal and declare that.  It didn't.  The report said that my vocabulary wasn't up to par.  The news put me in an extended funk.  I accepted my fate of being a nurse sulkily.  It was 1977, a double-digit year filled with ominous wanderings, according to my dad who viewed double-digit years only as trouble.  His father died in 1966.  He went into the service in 1944.  But I digress.  Now for that funny story.  Nora took me out to breakfast at a place in Burbank called Vern's.  I liked that place.  The scrambled eggs were good.  We were eating our breakfast, and I don't remember what she said beforehand or why there was a protracted lull in our conversation, but several seconds passed before Nora erupted, "Why don't you go to school!"  I stopped mid-bite.  Food on a fork was suspended in front of my mouth as my eyes went around the restaurant, looking for spectators.  I am sure there were plenty, but I was in such shock that I could not see anything.  I sat there stunned, absorbing her love.  I will never forget that.  I will never forget you, Nora, a name I have adored since.  She was the one person in my life who took an interest in me and in my future.  No other person did or could.  I owe you a debt of eternal gratitude, Nora.  I never did thank you in a way that you would have liked.  I don't even know what you would have liked, except to see me go to and graduate from college.  Nora was great and generous in other ways.  She used to take me, Tom, and Joe, and on occasion Sally and Mary to the Pickwick Bowl, Pool, and Drive-In near the Pickwick Gardens in Burbank.  The place had a pool, an ice rink, a bowling alley, and video arcade.  After a heavy afternoon of physical entertainment, Nora would take us all out to eat at Genio's, where I would feel guilty ordering their delicious shrimp dinner and a Roy Rogers.  Want to re-live your memories of Burbank?  Here are the landmarks.  Nora used to take us to Marv's Toys and to the Talleyrand Restaurant, where I used to admire the murals of fox-hunting scenes on the walls.  It's sad that there are no online photos of Tallyrand's interior art. 

 

Nora had a couple of cats.  We always had dogs at home, so Nora taught me how to pet the cat and she would explain the meaning in the cat's movements.  She told me how to scratch the cat on its cheeks.  She had one cat whose cheeks were really fat from fighting with other cats.  Nora also had that terrific avocado grove in her backyard.  In front, Nora had a pomegranate tree, a bush really; the thing sprawled out instead of up.

Nora owned an old FordFalcon, metallic blue, with the transmission on the drive-shaft of the steering wheel. 

Nora's Falcon was blue, not white.  I didn't ride in it with her much, but when she drove she was focused.  No one was to get in her way.  Nora was incredibly thoughtful.  She had a comptometer machine in her dining room that she let me play with.  I think she loved Dole's pineapple juice, for she always had it on-hand when we came over.  And she'd ask me what I wanted--orange or pineapple juice. Pineapple!!  She liked me.  Nora viewed me as her son on some level, I am sure.  She had 2 bedrooms in her house, a living room, a dining room, kitchen, a pantry where she kept brown-paper bags stacked to the ceiling; where she also kept stacks of newspaper tied together with string.  I wish we had more pictures of Nora.  When I think of her I think of how she made me feel safe.  There was one incident at her house.  It was a Saturday afternoon.  A young couple next door was outside shouting at each other, cursing each other using profanity.  Safe inside her house, Nora explained to me that people use profanity because they don't have an extensive vocabulary and no other words to use.  That settled me.  It made me less afraid of profanity; it took the teeth right out of it.  Nora settled it for me, while affirming to me that you--as an educated boy--are better than that.  Few people could use an incident like that, shed some light on human behavior all the while elevating mine.  I love you, Nora.  No wonder when I'd meet women with your name I would feel love for them.  I told Nora that I was studying Spanish in high school.  She wanted to show me off to her neighbor so she took me over to her Spanish-speaking neighbor in whose kitchen we sat with coffee, and the woman asked me basic questions about where I lived, what my name was, and so forth.  It felt uncomfortable like I was performing.  Nora wanted to show me off.  She loved me as a son.  What a sweetheart.  Nora had old furniture in her house.  She had Fabrege Eggs on the mantle above her fireplace.  She also had a couple of dancing figurines atop the mantle.  She had a furnace, too. She had Audobon and Sunset magazines for us to read.

Audobon magazine made us put front and center all issues concerning animals and wildlife.  In fact, the great outdoors was the real landscape to be in.  Metropolitan centers?  Big cities?  Civilization?  Are you kidding?  These were precisely the places that were destroying life as we understood it.

Nora had a couple of cats.  We always had dogs at home, so Nora taught me how to pet the cat and she would explain the meaning in the cat's movements.  She told me how to scratch the cat on its cheeks.  She had one cat whose cheeks were really fat from fighting with other cats.  Nora also had that terrific avocado grove in her backyard.  In front, Nora had a pomegranate tree, a bush really; the thing sprawled out instead of up.

And then there was Sunset Magazine.  I loved that magazine.  What's not to love?  You always got the best pictures anywhere.  And you got to view terrific lands around the US, Canada, and Australia. 
 

 

MOM & DAD AT HOME IN DUARTE

Dad was a champion in so many areas of his life.  Here he displays proudly, through posture and with hardware, his athletic and baseball achievements through great, competitive play with the County.

These two loved each other beyond measure.  They demonstrated their joy in each other by dancing.  We used to refer to them as Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.  Funny to see the clothesline with laundry pins.  But that was our life in those days before the Kenmore dryer from Sears arrived.  This picture makes me think how absorbed each one was with the other.  I mean emotionally, not just morally and legally binding as spouses, but how much history they had together.  They were married for 48 years until my dad passed in 1988. 

Mom loved babies.  Here she is holding Bridget Larkin, which makes the year 1971.  There's Dad's County softball team trophy for best hitter.  I am sure.  ;-)

There was a photo here of Dad pouring coffee from a coffee decanter into a glass mug.  In the photo, he is wearing an apron with the word PAPA on it.  I believe the picture belongs to Sally Martinez.  I don't know why it got removed from my site.  

Below is one of his signature characters that he would draw on self-made birthday cards.  How lucky we were!

What's funny about this drawing is that it resembles the character Puddleglum from CS Lewis' The Silver Chair.  I never heard my dad name the character.  But he drew this character frequently.  My dad, maybe knowingly or not, had me drawing Puddleglum.  If you know Puddleglum from The Silver Chair, you'll understand why the character that my dad had me practice with is so funny. 

DENVER ROOTS

 Uncle Ralph's farm up in Virginia Dale, Colorado, 1967.

Here is Tom, in 1967, petting one of Uncle Ralph's cows as Uncle Ralph looks on.

That's me, Mike, peering over the shoulder of one of Uncle Ralph's cows in 1967.

Love this photo.  Sally took it.  I remember lining up for this.  From foreground to background is Mike, Dad, Joe on Mary's right, Tom clutched under Mary's left arm, and Mary between them.  This is a great picture of all of us, but particularly of Dad.  He looks young and fit here.  He always looked fit.  The place is Virginia Dale, Colorado.  The year is 1967.

This is a card I received from Aunt Gertrude upon my high school graduation in 1975.  

She starts

Dear Mike--

The card inscription reads 

Congratulations and much success in everything you do.

And she continued, 

May God be with you all the way--
Much love to a dear Nephew. 

Aunt Gertrude.

It's funny.  Dad is her nephew, yet I feel privileged and kind of funny as she calls me her nephew.  That's sweet, Aunt Gertrude.  I do love you.

Front and center is clever and constructing Joe Walgenbach.  Over his right shoulder is Mike Walgenbach.  Over his left shoulder is the insightful, fearless, and artistic Tom Walgenbach.  Behind us from left to right is the sweet and family-loving Mary, our hero, artistic, Catholic, and Marine father, and his loving and generous, Aunt Gertrude.  The year is 1967.

Bob Bergman and Joe Walgenbach, 1967, on the Bergman farm in Brighton, Colorado.

 Bob Bergman's great horse, Gypsy.

The Bergman's horse, Gypsy, and their dog, Blue-Boy on their farm. 

Marilyn's Glorious Summer Barbeques and Pool Parties

Dad in the jacuzzi with the kids.  Tom sitting in the chair observing.  Esther taking pictures.  Charlen with her feet in the water.  Mom away from the splashing water in her pink slacks.  Is that Joe in the jacuzzi?  Sarah is in one lifesaver.  Aaron is in another.  Greg is standing behind Dad on the jacuzzi seat. Joe is sitting on the jacuzzi seat.  Jimmy Larkin is behind Sarah.  That's a terrific picture!  It's June, 1982.

Dad in his retirement years at Marilyn's house.  Coors in hand, Dad studies his grandkids enjoying themselves in the pool.  Wished I could have loved him more.  That's big, long-haired Joe Walgenbach in the pool just beyond the chair.

Stylin' Joe Walgenbach

Joe Walgenbach showing off his new Timex, April, 1970.

Joe Walgenbach in the snow up on Mt. Baldy.  I need a cup of Dad's hot chocolate!  What year is this, Joe?  1964?

Chuck with Joe in the playful years of 1972 or 1973.

Joe Walgenbach, dog whisperer.  1971?  Notice how different he handles each dog: Tommy by the collar and Josephine by a controlled pet of her ribs.  Too funny.

Joe Walgenbach and Chuck Walgenbach, two football legends.  1971?  I miss that bottle-brush bush that grew in Frank & Brenda's backyard there.  There were always hummingbirds buzzing around it.

Joe, displaying refinement and taste with a beverage in his hands.  That is Kimberly and her brother Danny.  Or is that Kevin Larkin?  1971 or 1972?

Joe, with spoon in hand [he must've just polished off some chocolate ice cream], is so happy to be under the attentive and intelligent hands of our mother.  1966 or 1967? 

The Tenacious Tom Walgenbach

Tom and Dad at Presidio Park in San Diego.

Tom sitting directly in front of Nell's homemade cookies at Uncle Ralph's farm in Brighton, Colorado, 1968.

Tom playing catch and wearing his LA Dodgers cap in May 1970.  Tom was a great baseball player.  He played in the local Pop Warner League.  He pitched, played the infield, and played catcher.  You can tell how much Dad loved Tom by his description on the back of this photo.  Dad penned, "Cowboy Papa--1970."  

Tom riding high atop Gypsy, Uncle Ralph's great horse out in Brighton, Colorado. 

Tom Walgenbach and Mike Larkin in the backyard of the 2944 East Elda house in Duarte.  Tom is teaching Mike how to shoot, not unlike the way that Shane taught Joey in Shane how to shoot.  

Note the clear fence marking the property boundary between the Walgenbach property and the Flannigan property.  It has since been covered, first with opaque slats and then with ivy.  There was one year when Brenda's newly arrived kitten was playing in the backyard a little too close to the fence, and our dog, an Airedale mix named Tommy, got a hold of the kitten right in front of Brenda and she screamed helplessly at the mauling.  It was sad.  That dog did cause the family a bit of grief.  The Walgenbachs after a session of rough-housing, 1971.  Sitting on the sofa are Mom, Tom, Sally, and Dad.  Sitting on the floor in front are Mike to the left and Joe.  

The Walgenbachs after a session of rough-housing, 1971.  Sitting on the sofa are Mom, Tom, Sally, and Dad.  Sitting on the floor in front are Mike to the left and Joe. 

Baseball-Loving Walgenbachs

Dad, Mike Larkin, and Mike Walgenbach.  The photo reads 1967.  That means that Dad was 53 here; I was 10, and Mike was 2.  What a great picture!  I loved that shirt.  I took my 5th-grade picture in that shirt.  Dad was in remarkable shape for 53.  I'm 54 now and I wish I had his physique.  This photo was taken in the backyard of our Duarte house on Elda Street.  Notice that the house does not have the patio that Joe built.

On November 25, 2011, Mike Larkin writes,  

What's funny is that as young as I was I can still recall so much of the action that took place during those days. And it was thing but action! Climbing into your Dad's station wagon through the lift gate--watching him lift cases of LifeSavers from the garage as he placed them carefully in the trunk of the VW. The pic with Tom on Camelia Street was cool and both Kev and I wearing a candy necklace [see photo below]. You guys would take us around the corner to the liquor store for penny candy and we thought you guys were such big lads back then.

I loved Wes Parker, too.  He was the 1st baseman after Ron Fairly and Chuck Connors.  Wes Parker hit for the cycle in 1970, the only Dodger since Gil Hodges in '49 to hit for the cycle until Orlando Hudson did it in 2009.  Parker's record stood for nearly 40 years.  By the way, that picture is not from a baseball card.  It is a photo of Wes Parker that I purchased from one of the blue souvenir booths at Dodgers Stadium year in '71 or '72.

 I loved Willie Davis.  Listened intently to Vin Scully on KFI to learn whether Willie extended his hitting streak of 31 games. I did not know that he attended Roosevelt High School in Boyle Heights and was inducted to that school's Hall of Fame.  Here is a videotaped interview of his career.  

In keeping with the baseball theme, here is a foul ball that I caught at the Dodgers v. Cubs game that I attended with my dad.  You can see the date, April 9, 1984, with a decorative cloud around it and Dodger Stadium, scrolled in Dad's signature bold letters.  Dad and I were in the 2nd Level, the Loge Level, or the balcony seats.  The day after I caught this, Dad got a hold of it and scrolled on the ball without my permission what you see there in the picture.  At the time, I was furious that he wrote on my pristine MLB baseball.  How could he write on it--he was writing on everything!  Boy, am I glad now that he wrote on it then. 

It is wonderful!!  Oh, by the way, the foul ball that I caught came off of Cubs catcher, Jody Davis.  As it turned out, that was the last Dodger game that I would attend with my Dad.  His knees hurt him terribly in those days and it made walking difficult.  We left the game during the 4th inning.  

Joe showing off his watch.  I think it was a Timex.  The year?  April 1970.  Thanks to Polaroid who used to print the date on the backside.  Dad wrote characteristically on this photo as well: JOE 1970.  

The Lowndes Grove Plantation right on the Ashley River near Charleston, South Carolina.  Could there be a more elegant setting for a wedding?  That is Kevin Larkin for you--nothing but the best.  I had a terrific time.  It was thanks to Mike Larkin that I even went to Kevin's wedding.  I think he paid my way.  Yikes!  I owe the guy.  This was 1997.  If you zoom in on the picture you should be able to see Mike Larkin walking behind his Aunt Judy, who is a remarkable woman.  She was a teacher, is adventurous, she's swum with manatees, and has loved the country singer Nanci Griffith; in fact, she sent me a cassette with Griffith's songs along with a small collection of Neil Diamond's.  It was such a beautiful gift.  What a sweet soul, Judy.  Below is a picture of the cassette case that Judy sent me.  It reads, "Enjoyed meeting you.  And it was a fun trip to Ft. Sumter.  Sincerely, Judy" and then her old address.

Big Mike Larkin, circa 1966.

Kevin Larkin at the left devising a way to get the beaded candy off the string faster.  Mike Walgenbach in his Keds, and Jon . . . .  This photo was taken in September 1970 at Charlen and John's previous home on Camelia in North Hollywood, CA.