About Me
Monday, December 24, 2012
Christmas in the Simons Brickyard
I vividly remember the holiday seasons in the brickyard in the mid to late 1940s. I remember that the guys from Mt. Carmel Catholic Church Men’s Club would get two horse drawn hay-wagons for us kids and young adults to ride and pass out fruit baskets to the families living in the brickyard as we sang Christmas carols on those cold 1940s Christmas Eves.
The brickyard owner, Mr. Walt Simons, would provide the hay-wagons and fruit baskets.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Simons Brickyard Documentary-10-2-12
With my distant cousins Ernie and Joe Lemus at the premiere of the Simons Brickyard documentary
Simons Brickyard Documentary-10-2-12
Dora Beltran-Garcia and her daughter-in-law Patricia Peralta walking the Red Carpet at the premiere of the Simons Brickyard documentary
Simons Brickyard Documentary-10-2-12
Charlie Beltran and his wife Irene at the premiere of the Simons Brickyard documentary
Simons Brickyard Documentary-10-2-12
My cousin Phil Baltazar and his wife Barbara at the premiere of the Simons Brickyard documentary
Simons Brickyard Documentary-10-2-12
My brother-in-law George Bowbeer at the premiere of the Simons Brickyard documentary.
Why do gabacho's close their eyes when they are having their pic taken?
Simons Brickyard Documentary-10-2-12
Our son James and my niece Yvonne Hernandez at the premiere of the Simons Brickyard documentary
Simons Brickyard Documentary-10-2-12
A guy and his wife at the premiere of the Simons Brickyard documentary. I am embarrass to say that I can't remember their names. he, I Hadn't seen in over 50 years
Simons Brickyard Documentary-10-2-12
Patricia Peralta at the premiere of the Simons Brickyard documentary
Simons Brickyard Documentary-10-2-12
An old timer from Simons, Charlie Beltram, at the premiere of the Simons Brickyard documentary
Simons Brickyard Documentary-10-2-12
My nephew Jesse Hernandez at the premiere of the Simons Brickyard documentary
Simons Brickyard Documentary-10-2-12
Two distant cousins, Joe and Ernie Lemus at the premiere of the Simons Brickyard documentary
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
"Man and His Fence"
Tales from the Simons Brickyard
By kiki
When living in the Simons brickyard (El Hoyo) in the early 1950s my friends and I used to light up a fire in the evenings. When we would run out of wood to burn, we would go to plan B, which was to go to the rackas (racks) and dump the bricks that were drying on wooden paletas (pallets). We would take the paletas and used them for firewood. We had to hide them as the night watchman would sneak up on us to see if he could get us burning paletas, which was a big no-no in Simons, you just didn’t burn Simons Brickyard paletas without getting your ass in trouble with the local chota (sheriff/watchman), not to mention the ass whipping at home.
When the watchman was keeping a close eye on us we would go to plan C, which was to rip the wooden fences from the nearby houses, hey! We needed firewood, didn’t we? Tacho’s house was the one nearest to us. Tacho, at least once a week was fixing his fence. One day my dad was walking by and seen Tacho working on his fence, my dad asked him “fixing that fence again?” “eso’s cabrones (meaning us) keep burning my fence” replied Tacho….Days of innocence!
I mention above about the chota keeping an eye on us to keep us from burning the paletas. Well we kids came up with an idea to get back at him for chasing us when he would bust us burning paletas. We came up with the bright idea of digging a hole for the chota to fall in as he chased us. About four or five of us kids dug a hole about four feet deep and four feet wide, I say “about” four by four because I am not really sure how deep or how wide it was, I do know that it was deep enough that at its deepest if one of us jumped in the hole we couldn’t get out on our own, we had to be helped out.
We dug the hole about twenty feet away from the fire over a period of nights. We would dig some and when it was time to go home we would cover it up with thin plywood; put some dirt/grass on top of the plywood to keep it from been seen.
One night with the hole covered up we were hanging around the fire when the chota came running towards the fire yelling at the top of his lungs “cabrones, quemedo patletas!!” as soon as we heard him we all ran towards the hole, and as we ran around the hole; he ran over the hole and hit the thin plywood at top speed and as he disappeared into deep pit of darkness we could hear him yell “Cabrones!!”
Don’t know how he got out, but next day the chisme around the brickyard was “did you hear what happened to the chota last night? No? well; he said the earth opened up and tried to swallow him!”
“Cabrones!”
By kiki
When living in the Simons brickyard (El Hoyo) in the early 1950s my friends and I used to light up a fire in the evenings. When we would run out of wood to burn, we would go to plan B, which was to go to the rackas (racks) and dump the bricks that were drying on wooden paletas (pallets). We would take the paletas and used them for firewood. We had to hide them as the night watchman would sneak up on us to see if he could get us burning paletas, which was a big no-no in Simons, you just didn’t burn Simons Brickyard paletas without getting your ass in trouble with the local chota (sheriff/watchman), not to mention the ass whipping at home.
When the watchman was keeping a close eye on us we would go to plan C, which was to rip the wooden fences from the nearby houses, hey! We needed firewood, didn’t we? Tacho’s house was the one nearest to us. Tacho, at least once a week was fixing his fence. One day my dad was walking by and seen Tacho working on his fence, my dad asked him “fixing that fence again?” “eso’s cabrones (meaning us) keep burning my fence” replied Tacho….Days of innocence!
UPDATED:
3-21-2013
I mention above about the chota keeping an eye on us to keep us from burning the paletas. Well we kids came up with an idea to get back at him for chasing us when he would bust us burning paletas. We came up with the bright idea of digging a hole for the chota to fall in as he chased us. About four or five of us kids dug a hole about four feet deep and four feet wide, I say “about” four by four because I am not really sure how deep or how wide it was, I do know that it was deep enough that at its deepest if one of us jumped in the hole we couldn’t get out on our own, we had to be helped out.
We dug the hole about twenty feet away from the fire over a period of nights. We would dig some and when it was time to go home we would cover it up with thin plywood; put some dirt/grass on top of the plywood to keep it from been seen.
One night with the hole covered up we were hanging around the fire when the chota came running towards the fire yelling at the top of his lungs “cabrones, quemedo patletas!!” as soon as we heard him we all ran towards the hole, and as we ran around the hole; he ran over the hole and hit the thin plywood at top speed and as he disappeared into deep pit of darkness we could hear him yell “Cabrones!!”
Don’t know how he got out, but next day the chisme around the brickyard was “did you hear what happened to the chota last night? No? well; he said the earth opened up and tried to swallow him!”
“Cabrones!”
Friday, August 17, 2012
"Pops Goat"
By kiki
In the late 1940s my Pops had a goat that I would have to take out to pasture on the small hills and open land that we had in the Simons Brickyard. I would let the goat run loose to eat, after two hours or so I would go get the goat and bring it back home, one day I couldn’t find the goat, I went home and told Pops.
“Pops, I can’t find the goat, it’s lost”.
“Don’t worry mijo, we’ll find it” said Pops.
Next day one of Pops drinking buddies knocked on the door.
“Chicano, come and have birria and beer with us”
Pops was called Chicano by his buddies and birria is Mexican BBQ cooked in a hole on the ground.
Pops went with his buddy and ate birria and drank beer, when he came back home he told my Mom.
“I just ate my goat”
“Pops, they stole your goat?!” I asked him.
“Yes Mijo, But at least they invited me for some birria” Pops told me.
In the late 1940s my Pops had a goat that I would have to take out to pasture on the small hills and open land that we had in the Simons Brickyard. I would let the goat run loose to eat, after two hours or so I would go get the goat and bring it back home, one day I couldn’t find the goat, I went home and told Pops.
“Pops, I can’t find the goat, it’s lost”.
“Don’t worry mijo, we’ll find it” said Pops.
Next day one of Pops drinking buddies knocked on the door.
“Chicano, come and have birria and beer with us”
Pops was called Chicano by his buddies and birria is Mexican BBQ cooked in a hole on the ground.
Pops went with his buddy and ate birria and drank beer, when he came back home he told my Mom.
“I just ate my goat”
“Pops, they stole your goat?!” I asked him.
“Yes Mijo, But at least they invited me for some birria” Pops told me.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Helms Bakery Trucks
By kiki
My memories of the Helms Bakery trucks go back to the late 1940s. It was while we were living at the Simons brickyard that I first saw that beautiful yellow Helms Bakery truck. The Simons Boys, and I was one of them, would wait for the Helms truck at the Vail Avenue entrance to the brickyard. As the driver slowed down to enter the brickyard via the dirt road, us boys would jumped on the rear bumper and open the rear doors and pull open the drawers where the loot was at. We would go for the cream puffs first and then some of the other goodies. The driver knew all the time what we were doing, he never got pissed at us. As the Simons route was his last one for the day he would give us what he didn’t sell. We always had bread at home!
Later on when I was attending Montebello Junior High School, a girlfriend and I would walk by the bakery via Maple Avenue, she lived on Mines. That didn’t last as she dumped me for a high school guy “because he had a car” she said.
My memories of the Helms Bakery trucks go back to the late 1940s. It was while we were living at the Simons brickyard that I first saw that beautiful yellow Helms Bakery truck. The Simons Boys, and I was one of them, would wait for the Helms truck at the Vail Avenue entrance to the brickyard. As the driver slowed down to enter the brickyard via the dirt road, us boys would jumped on the rear bumper and open the rear doors and pull open the drawers where the loot was at. We would go for the cream puffs first and then some of the other goodies. The driver knew all the time what we were doing, he never got pissed at us. As the Simons route was his last one for the day he would give us what he didn’t sell. We always had bread at home!
Later on when I was attending Montebello Junior High School, a girlfriend and I would walk by the bakery via Maple Avenue, she lived on Mines. That didn’t last as she dumped me for a high school guy “because he had a car” she said.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Memories from Montebello and the Simons Brickyard
By kiki
Edit by Phil Rice
This essay was written for the Montebello Facebook group page
My memories from Montebello have to also include memories from the Simons Brickyard as they intertwine.
My earliest memories begin around 1941 when at age 5 I started kindergarten at Vail Elementary School. I remember starting kindergarten with Coy Diaz and Johnny Levya, et al. Coy and I in our teen years became best friends and remained so for years. But in our preteen years at Vail, Coy was always urging Johnny to pick a fight with me, so it was that Johnny and I fought just about every day and Johnny got his ass kicked just about every day.
I remember during WWII when we had the black-outs; my older sister Rachel and I would sit by the window watching the search lights aimed at unidentified planes.
I remember when I was at Vail that the teacher would rap our knuckles for speaking Spanish. It seems funny now because nowadays you have a better chance of getting a job if you are bilingual, can speak both English and Spanish, at least in California, so maybe we are having the last laugh after all.
I first learned about the birds and the bees from two teachers at Vail. These two teachers would sneak into the equipment room for their daily rump on the ping pong table. We boys would then sneak around the back to look through a window.
In my last two years at Vail elementary I became the school movie projectionist. I would be pulled out of my class to run the movie projector for other classes; it was fun and made me feel like I was somebody, somebody important? Of course! LOL!!
I have fond memories of catching the Montebello bus on Greenwood and Sycamore on Sundays after church with my mom to go see movies at the Vogue in Montebello and other theaters in East Los Angeles.
I must have been in the 6th grade when I discovered girls. I remember going to the Vogue and holding hands and sneaking in a kiss or two with any girl that was willing to do so.
Going skinny dipping in the summers at the local water hole “The main ditch” was fun.
In 1950 I entered Montebello Junior High School.
Somehow I got a year behind in my school years. After my 7th grade, my schoolmates and I were asked if we wanted to skip the 8th grade and go straight into the 9th grade. I said yes. My friend Coy and others said no.
My two years at Montebello Junior High were not very memorable. Besides getting thrown off the school bus for shooting spitballs at the driver, finding a girlfriend that dropped me after a couple of months for a high school guy, and seeing Mr. Martin, our English teacher, and another teacher whose name I can’t recall—I’ll just call him Mr. Dude—go after another teacher, whose name I can’t recall either, so I’ll call her Miss Dudette. Both were trying to win Miss Dudette’s heart. Mr. Martin won out in the end, and he married Miss Dudette.
The most exciting times we had at MJH were in Mr. Archer’s agriculture class. Mr. Archer had a plot of land for his agriculture classes that was fenced in, with a gate that was kept locked. Mr. Archer would count the number of students going in at the start of class and coming out at the end of class. At times he was short one student coming out; he would look us over and ask, “Where is David?” Nobody would say they knew where David was at, so he would send some of us to look for him. Of course, some of us knew where he was at, because some of us would tie David up in the tool shed during class. We would untie him once Mr. Archer would ask for him. Some of you may say we were bullies, but I say we were just a bit mischievous. It was all done in fun. Even David used to laugh at what we did to him.
One day in Mr. Martin’s English class my friend Chano Diaz asked for permission to go to the boy’s room, which he got from Mr. Martin. On his return from the boy’s room and as he was sitting down at his desk, Chano bolted up in the air yelling “I am going to kill you” at me. Seems like somebody put a thumbtack on his chair. Why he thought it was me, I’ve no idea. I was asked by Mr. Martin if I had put the tack on the chair or if I knew who had done it. I told him, “I ain’t squawking.” By the end of the class Chano had gotten over it and he didn’t beat me up, which he could have easily done as he was a big boy. By the way, Chano is a distant cousin.
A fond memory I have from MJH was trading my lunch with the gabacho boys. At the start of my 7th grade year my mom would pack me a “brown bag” lunch with tacos, what are now called burritos. I would trade the tacos for sandwiches with the white boys. It was a good trade, in that everybody was happy. But that didn’t last long. About halfway into the school year I started getting lunch money. Across the school was a mom and pop burger place where we could buy a burger, fries, and a coke for 50 cents, and that’s what I had for lunch for the rest of time I was attending MJH.
My two years at Montebello Junior High went-by fast. Spring of 1952 came around and it was time to get ready for graduation. I needed to buy a suit, but before we could go to a men’s store, a tailor who was making the rounds in Simons came to our door. My mom told him, yes, that I needed a suit for graduation. "How much?" she asked him. “$50.00” said the tailor. My mom said okay even though we didn’t have the $50.00. Measurements were taken and then the tailor said that with a small deposit he would deliver C.O.D. in two weeks.
My mom then remembered that my paternal grandmother was holding $50.00 for me from a cow sale. “A cow sale?” Yes, when I was about 8 or 9 years old my grandma Lupe gave me one of her calves. After a couple of years she sold my cow for $50.00 and told my mom and dad that she would hold that money until I graduated from school. When my mom told her we needed the money for my graduation, she said no, that I was only graduating from junior high and not from high school. In the end she gave us the $50.00 plus $20.00.
With the cost of the suit taken care of, I now needed a shirt, tie, and shoes. I settled on a white shirt, yellow knitted tie, and blue suede shoes to go with the light blue suit that had been tailor-made for me.
Graduation day was in mid-June. Ceremonies were held at Montebello City Park.
We all sat on the stage and as our names were called we walked to the center of the stage to receive our diploma from the principal. After receiving our diplomas, we walked back to our seats. The principal’s daughter, who also graduated with us (I can’t remember the name of either one), hopscotched to the center of the stage, and after receiving her diploma she hopscotched back to her seat. She had everybody laughing.
1952 was the year the Simons Brickyard was closed for good. We were one of the last families to leave Simons; we left in early August and headed to Northern California to pick crops. After working in the fields we came back to live in Pico, now Pico Rivers. I now had a school decision to make: was I going to enroll in Pico Rivera’s new high school, El Rancho High School, or was I going to Montebello High? I wanted to enroll in Montebello High because all my friends were going there, but a problem came up. I was living in Pico Rivera and MHS wouldn’t accept me. I was told that I had to go El Rancho High, so I talked to my grandma Lupe who was living in Montebello and asked her if I could tell MHS that I was living with her, even if I wasn’t going to live with her. She yes, but she wasn’t happy with it. So it was that I enrolled at Montebello High School in late September of 1952.
For the first few months I walked from Pico Viejo to the Montebello Gardens to catch the Montebello bus on my way to school and would reverse that in the afternoons. Later in the year I bought a 1938 four door Chevy with money I was earning working weekends at Miller’s Car Wash in Whittier. The Chevy cost me $55.00 at $5.00 a week. In December I got my driver's license and started driving to school. In early 1953 I was carrying only five classes. After getting out of school I would drive to Montebello City Park, park on Whittier Blvd and then walk to the Spot to get something to eat while I waited for my friends to join me once they got out of school. Once they arrived we would listen to the Hunter Hancock R & B radio show till 5 P.M. We would head home at the end of the show.
In the summer of ’53 I went to work full time at the car wash which gave me a bit more money to go out and meet girls and to play pool at Nacho’s Pool Hall in Simons. At the end of summer and at the start of the new school year I went back to Montebello High School for my junior year, which was as far as I got in school. In January of ’54, after the holidays I didn’t go back to school. I instead went to work full time at the car wash. I know, big mistake.
In April of ’54, I met Connie, and after seeing her through the summer and fall, we got married in December of ’54. In 1955 I started working at a new car dealership, (paint shop.) I then became an auto painter and at one time owned, with my sons, a body shop. In my later years I got a better gig. I became a Kept Man.
My last association with Montebello was in 1955-56 when Connie and I lived on 5th St, south of Whittier Blvd.
All rights reserved
Edit by Phil Rice
This essay was written for the Montebello Facebook group page
My memories from Montebello have to also include memories from the Simons Brickyard as they intertwine.
My earliest memories begin around 1941 when at age 5 I started kindergarten at Vail Elementary School. I remember starting kindergarten with Coy Diaz and Johnny Levya, et al. Coy and I in our teen years became best friends and remained so for years. But in our preteen years at Vail, Coy was always urging Johnny to pick a fight with me, so it was that Johnny and I fought just about every day and Johnny got his ass kicked just about every day.
I remember during WWII when we had the black-outs; my older sister Rachel and I would sit by the window watching the search lights aimed at unidentified planes.
I remember when I was at Vail that the teacher would rap our knuckles for speaking Spanish. It seems funny now because nowadays you have a better chance of getting a job if you are bilingual, can speak both English and Spanish, at least in California, so maybe we are having the last laugh after all.
I first learned about the birds and the bees from two teachers at Vail. These two teachers would sneak into the equipment room for their daily rump on the ping pong table. We boys would then sneak around the back to look through a window.
In my last two years at Vail elementary I became the school movie projectionist. I would be pulled out of my class to run the movie projector for other classes; it was fun and made me feel like I was somebody, somebody important? Of course! LOL!!
I have fond memories of catching the Montebello bus on Greenwood and Sycamore on Sundays after church with my mom to go see movies at the Vogue in Montebello and other theaters in East Los Angeles.
I must have been in the 6th grade when I discovered girls. I remember going to the Vogue and holding hands and sneaking in a kiss or two with any girl that was willing to do so.
Going skinny dipping in the summers at the local water hole “The main ditch” was fun.
In 1950 I entered Montebello Junior High School.
Somehow I got a year behind in my school years. After my 7th grade, my schoolmates and I were asked if we wanted to skip the 8th grade and go straight into the 9th grade. I said yes. My friend Coy and others said no.
My two years at Montebello Junior High were not very memorable. Besides getting thrown off the school bus for shooting spitballs at the driver, finding a girlfriend that dropped me after a couple of months for a high school guy, and seeing Mr. Martin, our English teacher, and another teacher whose name I can’t recall—I’ll just call him Mr. Dude—go after another teacher, whose name I can’t recall either, so I’ll call her Miss Dudette. Both were trying to win Miss Dudette’s heart. Mr. Martin won out in the end, and he married Miss Dudette.
The most exciting times we had at MJH were in Mr. Archer’s agriculture class. Mr. Archer had a plot of land for his agriculture classes that was fenced in, with a gate that was kept locked. Mr. Archer would count the number of students going in at the start of class and coming out at the end of class. At times he was short one student coming out; he would look us over and ask, “Where is David?” Nobody would say they knew where David was at, so he would send some of us to look for him. Of course, some of us knew where he was at, because some of us would tie David up in the tool shed during class. We would untie him once Mr. Archer would ask for him. Some of you may say we were bullies, but I say we were just a bit mischievous. It was all done in fun. Even David used to laugh at what we did to him.
One day in Mr. Martin’s English class my friend Chano Diaz asked for permission to go to the boy’s room, which he got from Mr. Martin. On his return from the boy’s room and as he was sitting down at his desk, Chano bolted up in the air yelling “I am going to kill you” at me. Seems like somebody put a thumbtack on his chair. Why he thought it was me, I’ve no idea. I was asked by Mr. Martin if I had put the tack on the chair or if I knew who had done it. I told him, “I ain’t squawking.” By the end of the class Chano had gotten over it and he didn’t beat me up, which he could have easily done as he was a big boy. By the way, Chano is a distant cousin.
A fond memory I have from MJH was trading my lunch with the gabacho boys. At the start of my 7th grade year my mom would pack me a “brown bag” lunch with tacos, what are now called burritos. I would trade the tacos for sandwiches with the white boys. It was a good trade, in that everybody was happy. But that didn’t last long. About halfway into the school year I started getting lunch money. Across the school was a mom and pop burger place where we could buy a burger, fries, and a coke for 50 cents, and that’s what I had for lunch for the rest of time I was attending MJH.
My two years at Montebello Junior High went-by fast. Spring of 1952 came around and it was time to get ready for graduation. I needed to buy a suit, but before we could go to a men’s store, a tailor who was making the rounds in Simons came to our door. My mom told him, yes, that I needed a suit for graduation. "How much?" she asked him. “$50.00” said the tailor. My mom said okay even though we didn’t have the $50.00. Measurements were taken and then the tailor said that with a small deposit he would deliver C.O.D. in two weeks.
My mom then remembered that my paternal grandmother was holding $50.00 for me from a cow sale. “A cow sale?” Yes, when I was about 8 or 9 years old my grandma Lupe gave me one of her calves. After a couple of years she sold my cow for $50.00 and told my mom and dad that she would hold that money until I graduated from school. When my mom told her we needed the money for my graduation, she said no, that I was only graduating from junior high and not from high school. In the end she gave us the $50.00 plus $20.00.
With the cost of the suit taken care of, I now needed a shirt, tie, and shoes. I settled on a white shirt, yellow knitted tie, and blue suede shoes to go with the light blue suit that had been tailor-made for me.
Graduation day was in mid-June. Ceremonies were held at Montebello City Park.
We all sat on the stage and as our names were called we walked to the center of the stage to receive our diploma from the principal. After receiving our diplomas, we walked back to our seats. The principal’s daughter, who also graduated with us (I can’t remember the name of either one), hopscotched to the center of the stage, and after receiving her diploma she hopscotched back to her seat. She had everybody laughing.
1952 was the year the Simons Brickyard was closed for good. We were one of the last families to leave Simons; we left in early August and headed to Northern California to pick crops. After working in the fields we came back to live in Pico, now Pico Rivers. I now had a school decision to make: was I going to enroll in Pico Rivera’s new high school, El Rancho High School, or was I going to Montebello High? I wanted to enroll in Montebello High because all my friends were going there, but a problem came up. I was living in Pico Rivera and MHS wouldn’t accept me. I was told that I had to go El Rancho High, so I talked to my grandma Lupe who was living in Montebello and asked her if I could tell MHS that I was living with her, even if I wasn’t going to live with her. She yes, but she wasn’t happy with it. So it was that I enrolled at Montebello High School in late September of 1952.
For the first few months I walked from Pico Viejo to the Montebello Gardens to catch the Montebello bus on my way to school and would reverse that in the afternoons. Later in the year I bought a 1938 four door Chevy with money I was earning working weekends at Miller’s Car Wash in Whittier. The Chevy cost me $55.00 at $5.00 a week. In December I got my driver's license and started driving to school. In early 1953 I was carrying only five classes. After getting out of school I would drive to Montebello City Park, park on Whittier Blvd and then walk to the Spot to get something to eat while I waited for my friends to join me once they got out of school. Once they arrived we would listen to the Hunter Hancock R & B radio show till 5 P.M. We would head home at the end of the show.
In the summer of ’53 I went to work full time at the car wash which gave me a bit more money to go out and meet girls and to play pool at Nacho’s Pool Hall in Simons. At the end of summer and at the start of the new school year I went back to Montebello High School for my junior year, which was as far as I got in school. In January of ’54, after the holidays I didn’t go back to school. I instead went to work full time at the car wash. I know, big mistake.
In April of ’54, I met Connie, and after seeing her through the summer and fall, we got married in December of ’54. In 1955 I started working at a new car dealership, (paint shop.) I then became an auto painter and at one time owned, with my sons, a body shop. In my later years I got a better gig. I became a Kept Man.
My last association with Montebello was in 1955-56 when Connie and I lived on 5th St, south of Whittier Blvd.
All rights reserved
Saturday, January 28, 2012
The Main Ditch
By Frank "kiki" Baltazar
In the summers of the mid-late ‘40’s my buddies from the Simons Brickyard, where we lived, and I would ride our bikes to the corner of Bluff Rd and Sycamore St. in South Montebello. We would than walk the bikes about 100 yards east on the railroad tracks to a water hole where we would go swimming. The water hole was known as “The Main Ditch” don’t ask me why because I don’t know. This was in the days of passenger trains, so whenever a train was approaching we had to jump in the water because we would be skinny dipping, though some of the guys would stay out of the water and turn their butts toward the train….Ah! to be able to go back to our days of youth and innocence.
In the summers of the mid-late ‘40’s my buddies from the Simons Brickyard, where we lived, and I would ride our bikes to the corner of Bluff Rd and Sycamore St. in South Montebello. We would than walk the bikes about 100 yards east on the railroad tracks to a water hole where we would go swimming. The water hole was known as “The Main Ditch” don’t ask me why because I don’t know. This was in the days of passenger trains, so whenever a train was approaching we had to jump in the water because we would be skinny dipping, though some of the guys would stay out of the water and turn their butts toward the train….Ah! to be able to go back to our days of youth and innocence.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
A Slice Of History--Montebello Life Magazine
From his birth until 15 years of age, Frank Baltazar lived in a company town, where a corporation provided its employees onsite housing, an elementary school, grocery store, church, post office, baseball team, movie theater, private sheriff and even an orchestra.
The sprawling town—whose peak population has been estimated at 3,000 in the late 1920s—didn’t produce steel in Pennsylvania, coal in West Virginia or cars in Michigan.
It manufactured bricks in an area that now encompasses south Montebello and parts of the City of Commerce.
For the first half of the 20th century, Simons Brickyard produced up to 600,000 clay bricks daily, making the claim to be the world’s most productive brickyard.
“I didn’t have any worries,” said Baltazar, now 75 and living in La Puente. “Was I happy living there? Was it fun living there? Yes, it was. I never heard anyone complain about the company.”
In 1905, Walter Simons bought clay-rich property near what is now South Vail Avenue and the Santa Ana Freeway for his expanding brickyard empire. Business skyrocketed after the 1906 San Francisco earthquake and fire, as the crippled city needed millions of bricks for rebuilding. Simons shipped 3,800 tons of product to San Francisco that year.
To meet the demand for labor, the company recruited Mexican immigrants, advertising that life at the brickyard was more stable than what was happening during their homeland’s revolution.
Simons eventually employed about 600 workers, most of them Latinos. The company set up housing for their workers, with single men living communally and families in two- or four-bedroom homes. Rents started at $1 per month.
Baltazar remembers that in the 1940s he paid his family’s month rent of $4 at the company office at the corner of Sycamore Street and South Vail Avenue.
He describes life in the company town as protected from the outside world, including the kind of bigotry that afflicted the nation at the time.
“There was a lot of racism back then, but we didn’t feel it as kids,” said Baltazar, who writes online about his childhood at Simons (simonsbrickyard.blogspot.com). “From kindergarten to my 6th grade graduation, the student body [at the company school] was 100% Latino. I didn’t see another skin color until I went to junior high.”
Baltazar also has fond memories of the summers at Simons, when he helped his father transport the bricks by mule-pulled carts and also delivered home-cooked breakfasts to the factory in a wagon he made. (The workday started at 4 a.m., with a “lunch” break at 7 a.m.)
The company reported an employee turnover rate of just 2 percent a month, leading some to marvel: If there ever was an industrial Utopia it is Simons.
But the Depression and World War II slowed the brickyard’s production, and in 1952, the widespread use of concrete in new construction led to the closing of Simons.
Simons family gave $6,000 to each of the 19 remaining families to help them move out of the company town.
“We were one of the last families to leave the brickyard,” Baltazar said.
To find out more about Simons Brickyard and the company town, check out the Montebello Historical Society’s recently published “Return to Simons,” a 52-page commemorative book available for $34.95. For more information visit www.montebellohistoricalsociety.org.
The sprawling town—whose peak population has been estimated at 3,000 in the late 1920s—didn’t produce steel in Pennsylvania, coal in West Virginia or cars in Michigan.
It manufactured bricks in an area that now encompasses south Montebello and parts of the City of Commerce.
For the first half of the 20th century, Simons Brickyard produced up to 600,000 clay bricks daily, making the claim to be the world’s most productive brickyard.
“I didn’t have any worries,” said Baltazar, now 75 and living in La Puente. “Was I happy living there? Was it fun living there? Yes, it was. I never heard anyone complain about the company.”
In 1905, Walter Simons bought clay-rich property near what is now South Vail Avenue and the Santa Ana Freeway for his expanding brickyard empire. Business skyrocketed after the 1906 San Francisco earthquake and fire, as the crippled city needed millions of bricks for rebuilding. Simons shipped 3,800 tons of product to San Francisco that year.
To meet the demand for labor, the company recruited Mexican immigrants, advertising that life at the brickyard was more stable than what was happening during their homeland’s revolution.
Simons eventually employed about 600 workers, most of them Latinos. The company set up housing for their workers, with single men living communally and families in two- or four-bedroom homes. Rents started at $1 per month.
Baltazar remembers that in the 1940s he paid his family’s month rent of $4 at the company office at the corner of Sycamore Street and South Vail Avenue.
He describes life in the company town as protected from the outside world, including the kind of bigotry that afflicted the nation at the time.
“There was a lot of racism back then, but we didn’t feel it as kids,” said Baltazar, who writes online about his childhood at Simons (simonsbrickyard.blogspot.com). “From kindergarten to my 6th grade graduation, the student body [at the company school] was 100% Latino. I didn’t see another skin color until I went to junior high.”
Baltazar also has fond memories of the summers at Simons, when he helped his father transport the bricks by mule-pulled carts and also delivered home-cooked breakfasts to the factory in a wagon he made. (The workday started at 4 a.m., with a “lunch” break at 7 a.m.)
The company reported an employee turnover rate of just 2 percent a month, leading some to marvel: If there ever was an industrial Utopia it is Simons.
But the Depression and World War II slowed the brickyard’s production, and in 1952, the widespread use of concrete in new construction led to the closing of Simons.
Simons family gave $6,000 to each of the 19 remaining families to help them move out of the company town.
“We were one of the last families to leave the brickyard,” Baltazar said.
To find out more about Simons Brickyard and the company town, check out the Montebello Historical Society’s recently published “Return to Simons,” a 52-page commemorative book available for $34.95. For more information visit www.montebellohistoricalsociety.org.
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