First Holy Communion at Immaculate Conception School, 1963

This is my 1963, First Holy Communion picture at Immaculate Conception School.  I am in the second row, 7th from the left of the row of boys.  I've got both my hands on my prayer book covering my face and my joy at the group photo and probably giddy at the thought of completing the procedures leading up to the big event.  I recall the preparation work and how the nuns during the rehearsal made it a big to-do.  

A printer explains what the First Communion is:

First Communion is considered one of the holiest and most important occasions in a Roman Catholic's life. It means that person has received the Sacrament of the Eucharist, the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Most Catholic children receive their First Communion when they're 7 or 8 years of age because this is considered the age of reason. Others can receive communion for the first time whenever they've met all the Church's requirements. 

In order for anyone to receive communion, that person must be without sin and in a state of grace. Traditionally, young Catholic children will make their first confession or the Sacrament of Penance, a week before receiving their First Communion. At confession, the child will detail sins and misdeeds to a priest and receive a penance in exchange. The penance is usually several prayers to be recited immediately upon exiting the confessional. Once the child is absolved of sin, he's ready to make his First Communion.

I feel lucky to have found this picture.  I owned a hard copy of it for years stored indifferently in the hallway cabinet at Mom's for years but never secured it or cared for it properly.  I took that picture for granted and assumed that others would treasure it as much as I did.  Live and learn.  

Kevin Moore is in the picture.  He's the blond kid standing at Monsignor Dee's left.  The Rahab twin brothers are here, too, but these are names probably you're unfamiliar with.  IC was such the center of our lives back then.

Great Adventures Brought to You by CW

With the exception of Charlen, each member of our family was quite athletic in our youth.  Dan ran cross country, played basketball, could play tennis and some football.  Chuck may have been the all-star in the family, however.  His skills ran the gamut from football (he was a wide receiver on the Citrus Owls in 1967.  He played basketball.  In fact, he invited me often to play with him and his coworkers.  Once with Denny and other friends at the outdoor courts at Rosemead High School.  Another time, we played outdoors at a park in Hollywood.  I just wished I could remember the name of the school or park. 

To baseball, Chuck organized weekend games with his friends Pat and Denny Moore, and more than once we played on the Memorial Park field in Sierra Madre.  Chuck knew the classy places to test athletic prowess.  

We also played on the practice field at Citrus College.  

Will never forget one time when I was playing the outfield, center field to be specific, and a fly ball came to me.  I caught it but then threw the relay to Denny wildly offline, and Denny let out a guttural exclamation of disbelief.  Sorry, Denny.  

Suffice it to say that when it came to fun, to competition, and thrilling athletics and enjoying life, Chuck led those adventures astutely and with great excitement by challenging us.

It was Chuck who took us skin diving, the one and only time I saw a Garibaldi.  

One other adventure I had with Chuck was a road trip up to the High Sierras, specifically the Virginia Lakes.  We were riding in style in his white, 1981 VW Rabbit.  Fishing was okay, not great that weekend.  After the night's stay near Virginia Lakes, we drove back down 395 to the June Lake Loop.  Again, fishing was not spectacular.  On the way home, we took 395, of course, to Highway 14 through Lancaster but then got on Highway 138 before connecting to Highway 2 behind La Crescenta.  Chuck let me drive his car, his Volkswagen chariot, through the San Gabriel foothills.  Knowing that traffic would be less but road conditions a little more challenging, Chuck put me behind the wheel.  And I will never forget one of the best lessons I'd ever learned.  Hwy 2 is a 2-laned mountain road, and on occasion I had to pass slower vehicles.  And in my attempt to pass, I exercised caution out of respect to my passenger and out of respect to his property.  And that's when Chuck says to me, "You can't hesitate.  Once you decide to pass, you've got to execute it."  And h was absolutely right.  Being definite with my actions signaled others to get out of the way or adjust according to my move.  It was brilliant and became an enduring lesson.  Few in my orbit had this level of insight or if they did were incapable of communicating it.  Chuck executes thoughtful skills with finesse.  It was always a delight to be with him.  More than anyone, he knew how to edify the air, and I've always loved this ethic.  And though I've presumed I could achieve this somewhat with language or stories, I know, too, that I have failed certain audiences.  Thank you, Chuck, for so many great memories.  

I Do Love These

Dad reflexes 😮#HappyFathersDay pic.twitter.com/rwsqH5ZifG

— Steve Stewart-Williams (@SteveStuWill) June 20, 2021

Dad's Marine Days: 735th Marine Platoon, Marshall Islands, 1943

On November 11, 2020, Veteran's Day, or the preferred, Armistice Day, Joe posted some great pictures of Dad from his tour in the Marshall Islands during WWII.  Dad was drafted in 1943, shortly after his baby daughter, Charlen, was born.  I am sure that mixed feeling consumed him a bit, going off to a foreign land with a bunch of other young men from around the country.  As a headline to these photos, Joe wrote, 

Happy Veteran's Day . . . . WW2 Marshall Islands 735th Platoon. My dad's Marine service pics.

https://walgenbachpics.blogspot.com/search?q=marshall+islands

July 4th, 1985

For the 4th of July weekend, 1985, I drove with Carmela, her boyfriend, Kathy Braidhill, and a couple of other folks from Arcadia down Interstate 5 through San Diego, across the border, past Rosarito Beach, and into Ensenada where our hotel was.  We parked, unloaded our bags, got refreshed, and went out for dinner.  We ate shrimp and lobster, Carmela's anticipated meal along a coastal dining hall.  After dinner, we walked out onto the beach.  Remember, the 4th of July is no Mexican holiday.  So it was only us a few other Americans southside lighting off fireworks on the beach.  A Mexican soldier was patrolling the beach, checking on just such incidents to keep the celebrations of Americans down to a minimum.  But the 

Papa's and Beer was famous back in the 1980s for a wild place to drink.  They have restaurants all over, but one in Rosarito Beach and one in Ensenada.  I visited the one in Ensenada.  I finally made it down there, not to drink per se, but to just see the place and wonder what all the buzz was about.  It was mainly about and for drinkers.  It didn't interest me, but I was glad that I made it there.  

Thirty years later, it still looks the same.  

That certainly was not the main attraction of that vacation, not by a damn sight.  For me, it was the return trip north out of party-central Ensenada to a gorgeous cliffside restaurant and bar.  It may have been in Azul Punto or Blue Point.  What was beautiful about that place was that we had dinner on a cliffside deck built out of the rock, about three tiers of cliffs below the main floor and banquet room above.  The six of us sat at a redwood bench overlooking the Pacific Ocean.  It was late afternoon, and we had a 180° view of the ocean from 4pm to 7pm.  Upstairs indoors they had a DJ and a dance floor.  It was the ideal hangout for 20-something Americans.  The dance hall had French doors wide open and a few sheer white curtains on the doors that caught the breeze and made the setting enchanting. For a young man, it was luxurious.  First, we had a pitcher of margaritas between the 6 of us.  Then tacos and nachos flowed.  Then we saw a pod of whales with many blowing a water spout.  The view of the ocean seemed magazine-like as the sun began to drop over the horizon with the margaritas taking effect and casting tranquility over the scene as the whales headed north up the coast.  It was too good.  And one song Kathy and I danced to upstairs was Julian Lennon's, "Too Late to Say Goodbye," (1985).  I didn't think much of the song when I heard it on the radio while driving to work or on the way home, but in that restaurant, in her presence, the song ignited a violent war between the promise of pleasure and desertion.  The wind, my movement on the dance floor, my movement to the song, and my basking in the airy elevated room helped me to forget momentarily the desertion that seemed inescapable.

Go West, Young Man, Go West. So He Did--From Missouri to Denver to Los Angeles

POP'S ADDRESSES

The following is a list of cities and towns where my dad lived growing up.  All of the indented sentences and paragraphs are his words.

MT. WASHINGTON, MISSOURI 

Mt. Washington, Missouri is a few miles east of Kansas City, Missouri.  Here is what their Union Station looked like in 1914, the year my dad was born.

 Union Station, Kansas City, Missouri, 1914

Birth:  County of Jackson, the township of Blue, Village of Mt. Washington, Missouri on October 7, 1914. with the name of William J. Walgenbach.  We lived on C Street, three blocks from this depot.  

Well, I couldn't find any C Street in the village of Mt. Washington.  The only prominent structure in Mt. Washington seems to be the Mt. Washington Cemetery, and that was built in 1900, a full 14 years before my dad was born.  So he lived somewhere near there; just that I can't find a C Street in Mt. Washington.   

PUEBLO & DENVER, COLORADO 

1915, we moved to Pueblo, Colorado.  

1919, we ventured to Denver.  Our first home in Denver was somewhere in North Denver on Alcott Street, near Elitch Gardens.  The site is now the home of the Denver Broncos, a football team.

Okay, so Elitch Gardens is down at the intersection of Speer Blvd. and I25.  Speer and Alcott is only a mile or so from Elitch Gardens, so Dad is correct that his home was "near Elitch Gardens."  When he states that "the site is now the home of the Denver Broncos," he's right again.  Alcott Street, if it were to continue, would head directly through the center of Mile High Stadium, where the Denver Broncos play each fall and winter.  

Then we lived on 12th and Curtis in an apartment for a while. 

Okay, first, these coordinates are not specific.  He doesn't specify whether 12th is 12th Avenue or 12th Street.  But since Curtis Street does not continue south of Colfax, we can assume that the coordinates are 12th Street and Curtis Street, but that doesn't work either since Curtis Street basically ends a couple of blocks north of 12th Avenue at Cherry Creek that runs through Denver.  Curtis literally ends just north of Denver's Performing Arts Complex.  

From Curtis Street's cramped quarters, we went three blocks to 1315 W. 14th Avenue.  

That would be 3 blocks south.  

We moved to 2707 Arapahoe Street.  We had an old 1919 Overland and drove it to Orchard, about 20 miles from Denver to visit my Aunt May and Uncle Charlie.  

That's interesting.  Looks like Dad lived in the Five Points neighborhood, about 8 blocks northeast of Mile High Stadium where the Colorado Rockies play baseball.  

Here's what a 1919 Overland looks like

Regarding Orchard being 20 miles from Denver, I cannot find that.  Orchard is a town near Ft. Morgan, which is 69.1 miles northeast of Denver.  

 LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

We arrived in Los Angeles, CA on March 18, 1925.  My dad slept all night at the Lark Theater on Main Street near 7th Street to save the rent money.  He took us to the Bear Cafe where we had breakfast then to 555 S. Crocker, where we lived in a one-bedroom apartment.  

Grand Central Market at 3rd and Broadway

Good Fellows Grotto on Main near 3rd Street, located at 341 S. Main Street.

A brief note on the Good Fellows Grotto

Until it closed on New Year's Eve in 1953, Goodfellows Grotto, 341 S. Main St., was the oldest continuously operating restaurant in the city. Founded in 1905 by Matteo Dujmovich, Lucky Baldwin's cook, Goodfellows was in the heart of what was once the theater district, near the Orpheum, Belasco and Adolphus and two blocks from the opera house.

Sarah Bernhardt was a patron, as were Clark Gable, Adolphe Menjou and Edward G. Robinson. Over the years, Goodfellows served every mayor and police chief of Los Angeles, every governor of California and countless attorneys and executives. 

I liked this: 

Peterman's Restaurant on the corner of 3rd and Main.  

Lyceum Theatre on 2nd and Spring Street for movies. 

House where I lived on 601 E. 22nd Street, Los Angeles.

440 Annandale Blvd. (now Figueroa) new bungalow with one bedroom--loved it--there was Hill on Roy Street off of Annandale--was perfect for rollerskating.  

1440 1/2 Toberman Flat Apartment, neat and clean.  

around the corner on Pico Blvd. was movie [theater]--saw many silent pix there.  

859 S. Wall Street--a 3rd-floor tenement community bath and toilet--one bedroom--however, this abode held much joy and happiness--had a newspaper corner on 8th and Maple Street.   

to be continued . . . 

 

Barbara Ann Day-Old Bakery

 It is not easy finding remnants of old buildings, buildings, structures of Los Angeles that I used to visit as a kid.  A case in point is the old Barbara Ann day-old bakery located just off the Pasadena Freeway.  I kept thinking that the bakery was located just off of Figueroa, but it was actually located on Pasadena Avenue at 3545 Pasadena Avenue.  It was such a familiar site for us since we passed the bakery any time we'd go into Downtown Los Angeles on our way to a Dodger game or to my dad's courthouse or the Police Academy.  

 

This site, AngelFire, lists businesses, restaurants, places that used to exist in Southern California, titled "Things Which Aren't Here Anymore."  Sad but great title.