Sue & Doug Lawrence

I just now read a sad story in the Community News section of the Duarte View, the Duarte newsletter from March-April 2009.  Mrs. Lawrence, Jerry and Kathy Lawrence's mom passed away on February 27, 2009.  I remember Doug Lawrence, her husband, working out in their yard all the time.  Their front yard used to be all ivy.  Then he dug that up and rendered it all dirt.  That's it.  No plants.  They had a speed boat parked to the side of their driveway for years.  Jerry Lawrence was a world-class wrestler.  His sister Kathy was an absolute sweetheart.  In high school, she dated Mike Tenove.  And I don't know what compelled her to do it, but during my senior year as the Cross Country team made our way to the front of the school where the bus was waiting for us to take us to our meet, Kathy ran over to me and gave me a kiss on the cheek for good luck.  I could not believe it.  She was so sweet.  She didn't have to do that but she did.  And I don't know whether she did it because she had empathy for me or that she just liked me or wanted some how to recognize me as someone she knew, someone she knew and lived near.  Maybe she recognized my enduring status as a victim because of my size and my distaste for fighting, but she made my year in that moment.  She was popular and well-liked by so many kids at school.  Her parents were civic-minded and involved in support activities for the school.  But as she leaned to kiss me on my cheek, I saw over her shoulder Mike Tenove watching and waiting for her patiently while she ran up to me and gave me a kiss for good luck.  In review, I cannot believe it.  That was Kathy Lawrence, the beauty with brains and status in Duarte's culture.  In some ways, I am glad that I found this story if only that it makes me think of Kathy, Jerry, their sister Debbie and their father Doug.  But it does show me the erosion of time.  Go to page 6 in this link and read the article on Sue Lawrence, Kathy's mom.  Kathy, if you find this, please accept my warmest wishes and know that as a kid growing up in Duarte, past whose house I used to go frequently, that my one consistent thought of your mother was that she was so energetic and always ready to help people out.  A terrific woman.

The San Gabriel Valley, 1930.

This is from LAPL's San Gabriel Valley collection.  This sloping hill could be Highland Park.  

Statue of Father Junipero Serra, Los Angeles

Statue of Father Junipero Serra on the corner of Sunset Boulevard and Spring Street in Los Angeles.  According to USC libraries, "The statue consists of a metal version of the padre holding a cross at left and a model of a mission at right. He is wearing the robes of a Franciscan friar. The statue is on top of a concrete pedestal with a metal plaque that reads "Frav(?) Junipero Serra Padre of California Missions 1713-1784 presented to the City of Los Angeles by...". Other legible signs on the buildings in the background include, from left to right, "No right turn", "Rozzani", "Coca Cola", "Imported/Domestic liquors", and "Liquor"."

Looking Westbound on Valley Blvd. at San Gabriel Blvd., 1938

This is a great scene.  It's 1938.  My mom and dad were as yet unmarried.  My dad may have been back in Denver courting my mom.  It would be 3 more years before the U.S.'s involvement in the war would begin. And a couple more years after that before Charlen was born and my dad drafted into the Marines and served on Marshall Islands in the Pacific.  I love this scene of San Gabriel, for that is where my dad lived and his family lived.  And I'd always wondered what his days looked like.  Now I know.  In case the photo does not show up below, click this link.  

The car in this photo is driving westbound on Valley Blvd. about to go through the intersection at San Gabriel Blvd.  That building you see at the left, on the southwest corner, is still there despite it having gone through about a dozen renovations. 

 

Duarte Bike Trail, 1924

That is Royal Oaks Drive to the right, and to the left is Royal Oaks Drive North. What this photo does is tell us what that path was back in 1924.  It was a flood channel.  From where though?  From Bradbury foothills I believe, from above the Royal Oaks Manor and then from Mt. Olive basin.  Later it became the path for the Pacific Railway.  I remember those tracks vividly.  When I walked to Immaculate Conception or to Royal Oaks School, I would always step on the track's ties.  It was fun.  And the tracks used to run out to the San Gabriel Riverbed, over the famous train bridge and on out into Azusa and Cucamonga.  The tracks passed behind houses that lined the south side of Royal Oaks Drive into the Fish Canyon neighborhood.  Years after those tracks had been decommissioned, Tom and I hiked back through there all the way out to the riverbed.  We may have taken our family dog, Tommy.



 
From the Alan Weeks Collection.  Pacific Electric car no. 750 is captured under an arched bridge at Highland Avenue in Duarte on the Glendora Line in this image dated September 15, 1951.



That is THE Train Bridge in East Duarte heading west behind the homes on Royal Oaks Drive.  Note the rock quarry behind it to the right.  That's the train bridge.  Wow!  There's no fence.  This shot was taken on March 6, 1951.  It's from the terrific Weeks Collection.

 
 Huntington Drive looking west into Duarte.  Here that Huntington Bridge is a 2-lane highway; today has 4 lanes.  Look at how empty the foothills are; that, and how empty Bradbury is.  I don't have a year for this.  Probably 1930 or earlier.

Banana Company Fire, Duarte, 1958

After the Banana Company burned down, I thought that there was another factory there that worked around the clock, for we could hear the factory from our residence on Elda about 4 blocks away operating late into the night.

Crest Theater in Monrovia

I have my doubts that this is the Crest Theater in Monrovia.  For one, the Crest theater wasn't this close to an intersection; it was in the middle of the block.  Two, there are no foothills in the back.  The Crest theater was on Foothill Boulevard, from which one could easily see the foothills even on the smoggiest days.  Plus, this picture is purportedly taken from the south side of Foothill Boulevard, and from that angle one would easily capture the San Gabriel Mountain range.  I used to get dropped off at the theater with friends or my brothers and pay .25 for a movie.  It was in this theater back in the mid-60's that I used to see some of the old war reels.  They must have referenced the Vietnam War, but could have been about military build-up in general.  Those were great days.  Here are a few comments by some who knew the theater first-hand as a youth.

If the theater in the picture above is not the Crest theater on Foothill Boulevard in Monrovia, then it is probably the Crest Theater in Sacramento, California, not Monrovia, California.

Keith Larsen

The next 4 photos of Keith Larsen are posted here with permission from the administrator of SpeedWayMotorCycle Facebook page. 

Keith "The Snakeman" Larsen all alone at Costa Mesa in 1984. Photo #1984.


 
It is June 11, 1982 at Costa Mesa and Bruce Penhall is giving Mike Faria, Keith Larsen and Eddie Ingels a lesson on gating. Photo #338. — with Eddie Ingels and Flyinmike Faria.

 
The "Snakeman" Keith Larsen leading Steve Lucero and Dubb Ferrell at Costa Mesa on April 15, 1987. Photo #2076.

 
Headed for turn one in a Scratch ride at Costa Mesa on April 15, 1987. Left to right, "Showtime" Bobby Ott, Keith "Snakeman" Larsen and Mike Curoso with Brad Oxley lurking just behind. Photo #2077.

I added the following caption to a picture of Keith that I got from another site here.  But that site, as of October 11, 2013, is currently under construction.

Keith "The Snake" Larsen leads Danny "Berzerkoo" Becker at Costa Mesa in 1982.  Keith Larsen was a boyhood friend and neighbor.  He lived in the second house on the south side of Conata just east of Bettyhill.  When Keith got the spark to ride speedway, he and my brother Joe, and Eric Bergquist would empty out Keith's garage (or his dad's garage) and rinse it out, leaving the slick concrete floor wet.  Keith would start from the opposite side of his street on the sidewalk and race up his driveway into the garage and then hydroplane as deep into his garage as he could without crashing.  It was a lot of fun.  It was Keith and Joe who were the best at it.  See more Irwindale Speedway pictures here.  You can find Keith in pictures #20, #297, #298, and #317.  [Actually, the administrator of that site told me that he is working to improve it.  So for now, it is down.  Until then, enjoy the pictures of Keith Larsen below.]

Duarte High School Athletes





Who's here?  From left to right in the back row is Eric Vorlage.  I didn't know him, but his younger brother Tim Vorlage was in my class; Tim was a very smart, decent guy.  Next is Tom Barney; I never knew him.  John Dudgion--never knew him.  Next is Rick Ward; now, I have heard of him.  I just don't know where; maybe from Duarte athletics somewhere.  Mitch Brake; never heard of him.  Richard Viar: that must be Craig Viar's older brother.  Next is Dan Dettman; now he was popular.  I just don't know in what context.  Front row left to right: first, is Bruce MacArthur.  He always seemed like a bad-ass to me.  Next is Marc Greene, whom I ran within Duarte's Cross Country team in 1971.  Next is Allan Ashcraft, the fast runner at the school that I remember.  Marc Greene, too, was fast; it's just that Ashcraft went onto State Champions year after year.  Next is Jose Jimenez.  I recognize his face, but I don't remember much interaction with him.  Next is Stuart Greene.  What can I say about Stuart?  I shot pool with him; he taught me how to shoot pool at the billiards room or bar next to the old Aqualand on the north side of Huntington Drive.  He was a remarkable athlete.  Not only could he run track and cross country, and he did, but he was also a fantastic baseball pitcher.  We were once up at Valley View Elementary school and he was throwing pitches to me to hit.  We were in our early 20's.  He threw a curveball that chased me off of the plate.  I'd never seen a curveball before; I thought that it was going to hit me.  He explained that that is the point of the curveball--to make it appear as though the batter is going to get hit and then for it to drop in over the plate for a strike.  Stuart Greene was a good guy.  He used to stop at our house in Duarte several times; I find that kind of remarkable since he lived on the other side of Duarte High School.  He gave me, Tom, and Joe a lot of attention.  Stuart was in construction.  I am not sure how he got into that--maybe his dad, his brother, or others; I'm just not sure.  Regardless, he was a tenacious and intense worker.  He invited my brother, Joe, one year to work with him.  Joe did.  Joe got really good training with Stuart.  I don't know what kind of stories Joe told him about me or about Tom, but Stuart did ask me, reluctantly it appeared, to work with him on Saturdays.  For some reason, Stuart did not ask Tom; or maybe he did, but Tom declined.  But Stuart taught me.  He was an excellent teacher.  The last time that I saw Stuart Greene was back in the mid-to-early '80s when he was living in the apartments on Rosemead Boulevard in the city of Rosemead.  I would go to his apartment.  The complex had a small recreation room with a pool table.  We both loved pool, and I enjoyed hanging out with him so I would drive over to his place and we'd play pool over a couple of beer.  It was memorable.  I remember he told me of him getting married.  With all of his tenacity, I think Stuart Greene was a real friendly, gentleman.  I wish him the best of success.  Next, is Dave Vanderveer.  He had one of the longest-running strides I'd ever witnessed.  I want to be careful with my description--his stride was like that of a Tennessee Walker in slow motion.  He was a great athlete and a great guy with a great sense of humor.  He lived up off of Vineyard in Duarte.  He was also very, very smart; he did well academically, though I never did hear where he went to school.  Next to Dave is Jim Engel.  Never heard of him, though he looks like Gary Jackson.  And finally, Charles Geiser.  I knew Charles from sight only.  He used to live in the corner house on the southwest corner of Mt. Olive and Royal Oaks.  He was quiet, kept to himself and his friends, and was a great athlete.



Duarte High School football field.

 Coach John Hanley

Mr. Hanley was one of the few coaches at Duarte High School that I liked.  He was friendly.  He was laid back.  Nothing bothered him, and I liked that kind of composure.  He was always happy or in a good mood, and that meant a lot to me.  There was one practice toward the end of the Cross Country season that he raced me against Bernard Ohanian.  Ohanian was a senior that year, and I was a freshman.  I was small and developing.  Bernard was joking with the older teammates, a little distracted when Hanley nodded to me to take off.  So I did.  I bolted.  I ran about 30 yards quickly ahead of Bernard before he started.  And the race was on.  All of the other guys on the team were cheering me on but also cheering on Bernard to catch me.  I think he finally did but only at the finish line.  It was funny.  I was exhausted.  I don't think that I ran that fast all season.  I remember one pre-season race we ran against two separate schools.  One was Pater Noster from Glendale and Burroughs High School in Burbank.  That was my first year, and during almost every training run and every other preseason, I always stopped somewhere along the route.  But this meet was the first time that I did not stop.  I remember crossing the finish line somewhere around the 20-minute mark and walking up to Coach Hanley to tell him that I had not stopped.  The smile on his face was the greatest confirmation of my success as an athlete at that time of my life.  It would get crushed one day when I raced my younger brother, Joe, from our home on Elda to Highland Avenue in Duarte.  Joe beat me by a good quarter mile.  Pathetic.  There was one other memory of Coach Hanley.  He hosted an end-of-the-year pool party for the Cross Country team.  It was held the same day that my brother, Dan, got married.  Dan married Esther in June of 1971, the 14th I think.  We attended the ceremony and then attended the reception in a banquet hall with lots of food and tables.  But I was constantly pestering my dad asking him to drive me over to Coach Hanley's party.  My dad finally relented and drove me to West Covina where Mr. Hanley had a nice big pool with barbeque.  I could not have been happier.  It was one of the great high-school experiences that I'd had.  Outside of dating Sylvia Schivato.  Where is she?  I'd heard that she married a fireman and lives out in Cucamonga, Riverside, or Rialto.  I don't know.  I wish her all the best. 

    

Ron Sewell loved baseball.  Word was that he was a very good pitcher.  He was a good friend to my brother, Chuck.  The last time that I saw Ron was at the donut shop behind the Mobile station at Mt. Olive and Huntington Drive.  He'd just ordered some donuts and was leaving when he spotted me and asked about Chuck.  Told me to tell Chuck to call him and to tell Chuck that we love him.  Pretty great guy.  Ron loved life.  He always wore a smile as he spoke.  

[Regarding a pic I need to reload.] 

Though I recognize the faces of a few of the guys in the picture I cannot recall any of the names.  And because I didn't know any of the men in the picture, I posted this mainly for that large canvass ball.  They were called "Earth balls."  I'd played with one up at a Christian camp retreat in Big Bear back in high school and once at Duarte High School.  The high school camp was a Duarte Christian Club High School retreat.  Michele Glennan was there.  Carol Burgess.  Probably Andrea King, whom I think every guy in school and beyond had a crush on.  Cathy Gruman was there, and a score of other good-looking high-school teens.  That Christian camp had an Earthball.  They were a novelty that never really caught on.  The point of the earth ball was that no single person could control it.  It was a team effort, a team ball, maybe some UN project in sensitivity training.  They were memorable precisely because they were so stupid.  But for group fun, as seen in the picture above, they could provide some short-term interest.

Mrs. Sullivan.  She was my 11th-grade American history teacher.  He died of a heart attack before June of 1975.  Shane Kelley wrote a terrific tribute to her as a teacher and to her as a symbol.  I remember attempting to answer only one question in her class.  She asked about how portraitures paint presidents and famous people, whether they painted them with accuracy or with a bias to making them appear better than they really were.  Oblivious to the context of the question raised my hand and answered "As accurate as they could."  Mrs. Sullivan shook her head and looked for an answer from someone else.  She was nice enough to me. 



Jerry Ashcraft.  Never knew him directly.  I knew his remarkable younger brothers from cross country, Allen and Tom Ashcraft.  Those two were high school running stars!!

Mrs. F. Whipple.  She was such a modern.  She really enjoyed teaching biology.  I enjoyed the dissections we did in her class.  We dissected a baby shark.  Kind of cool.

The only guy that I know in this photo is Coach Glenn Fessler.  The kid at the left is Bob McHenry, whom my brother, Chuck, knew by sight.

 

John Horvat was involved in sports throughout Duarte.  He was the Recreational leader at Valley View and at Royal Oaks at different times.  He was fun and loved sports.  That's about all that I remember of him.



I took this picture, not because of the girls.  In fact, I don't even know these girls.  I believe that they're a grade or two older than me.  No, I took this picture because of the spacecraft design.  I loved this structure when I was a kid because our mother would drive me, Tom, and Joe to Duarte Park with lunch and then we'd play on the different structures.  I did know Linda Zahl.  The girl in the middle at the top has a sister, Sheila Lewis, whom I believe danced on Soul Train as a regular.



This is a decent photo.  Wilbur Jackson, #20; Jeff Sadowsky, #4; Coach Newman; Collins, #21; Shane Kelley, #23; and the Alphonso "El Gato" Madrigal, #25.

My sophomore English teacher, Mr. Carr.  He assigned us to read "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" in his class.  He also gave us Greek & Latin root worksheets that I enjoyed.  I am sure that he worked hard.

My sophomore English teacher, Mr. Carr.  He assigned us to read "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" in his class.  He also gave us Greek & Latin root worksheets that I enjoyed.  I am sure that he worked hard.

Left to right is John Horvat, D. Wojkowski, D. Morris, Bob Busby, D. Brillhart, J. Coppock (who I believe is Steve Schibsted's older brother), W. (maybe for Willard) Long, Victor Barrie, who was an absolute all-star athlete, Hector Madrigal, Al's older brother, and an equally tough competitor, and Allen Ashcraft.  This is a collection of some of the toughest athletes in all of Duarte.  Hector Madrigal played basketball for years after high school, in pick-up games Irwindale and Azusa and throughout, and then played in organized leagues, like the summer league and the winter league at night over at Cal State LA.  Allen Ashcraft, of course, was a phenomenal runner, winning almost all of the races that he'd entered.  He didn't just compete; he won races and lots of them.  He'd gone to state champion competition.

Left to right is John Horvat, D. Wojkowski, D. Morris, Bob Busby, D. Brillhart, J. Coppock (who I believe is Steve Schibsted's older brother), W. (maybe for Willard) Long, Victor Barrie, who was an absolute all-star athlete, Hector Madrigal, Al's older brother, and an equally tough competitor, and Allen Ashcraft.  This is a collection of some of the toughest athletes in all of Duarte.  Hector Madrigal played basketball for years after high school, in pick-up games Irwindale and Azusa and throughout, and then played in organized leagues, like the summer league and the winter league at night over at Cal State LA.  Allen Ashcraft, of course, was a phenomenal runner, winning almost all of the races that he'd entered.  He didn't just compete; he won races and lots of them.  He'd gone to state champion competition.   

Lynn Johnston was not only an attractive woman, she was also really nice.  The only time that I met her was at Ray's house.  I used to go over there all the time to play basketball, but so did a lot of other people.  I would have gone over there almost every day, and for at least a week I think I did.  His mom would tell me that Ray can't play basketball today, that he wasn't home, and for me to come back tomorrow or Thursday.  But there was one time that I was in Ray's house.  Mark Williams from that corner house on Mel Canyon and Deerlane was over.  We were sitting at Ray's table, playing a table game.  Ray was generous with his mom's food.  But Lynn was there too.  She was sitting on the chair next to me.  She was in shorts, cool-lots, or something.  I just remember how nervous I was sitting next to a fantastically-looking girl.  Yes, yes, she was sitting on top of the table with her feet on the seat of a chair next to mine.  The polish on her toenails was drying.  She raised her foot to examine how much more time she would need to dry and she accidentally kicked my arm.  She said, "Cold, huh?"  I didn't know what to say.  She was so beautiful, like a goddess, something intangible and beautiful.  I am sure that I must have seen her a few other times since because I was over there a lot.  Ray was a good egg.  Speaking of Ray Johnston, I should definitely get a picture of him.  There is that picture of him and Dave Densteadt coaching the sophomores in the basketball gym.  He was an integral part of my youth.  Ray used to drive around the neighborhood, I mean into all parts of Duarte, to pick high-school kids up and drive them out to Lake Avenue Church in Pasadena for a Christian Breakfast Club.  Hey, we were served french toast, butter, bacon or sausage.  Meals were always group affairs in my life.  Eating at home was hurried, particularly if you wanted seconds; if you didn't hurry, no seconds were left.  But the Christian Breakfast Club was good.  So on Wednesday mornings, I'd end up having breakfast with Jimmy Flores, Beth Eaves who I absolutely had an enduring crush on.  I met her brother Dan Eaves years later.  I was shocked that he was her brother.  Who else was at Lake Ave. for breakfast?  Oh, yeah, Steve Schibsted (sp?); sorry Steve.  Sometimes Bill Armas, for some reason Bill and I rubbed each other the wrong way.  He was vocal.  I was an introvert.  I think that Andrea King could have gone once or twice.  I know for sure that Carol Burgess and Michele Glennon went, but if I recall Michele was not a morning person.  What was really great about Ray Johnston and his Lake Avenue Congregation Church was the small gym in the basement.  Ray had the key to the place.  On Saturday nights, a bunch of Duarte fellows would drive over there to play basketball underground, sometimes until 11pm.  I must be confusing events because right now I had the thought that Henry Martinez used to drive us over to Lake Avenue.  That just doesn't feel right.  Henry at Lake Avenue  In retrospect, the guys that I used to hang to hang out with were really nice to me.  Henry Martinez used to have a souped-up Chevy, and I was in it one night riding with the guys on the Cross Country team.  Henry was playing Creedence Clearwater's "Lookin' Out My Backdoor."  It was one of the best nights of my teenage years.

Some recent pics of Duarte High School, 2012.

Lynn Johnston was not only an attractive woman, she was also really nice.  The only time that I met her was at Ray's house.  I used to go over there all the time to play basketball, but so did a lot of other people.  I would have gone over there almost every day, and for at least a week I think I did.  His mom would tell me that Ray can't play basketball today, that he wasn't home, and for me to come back tomorrow or Thursday.  But there was one time that I was in Ray's house.  Mark Williams from that corner house on Mel Canyon and Deerlane was over.  We were sitting at Ray's table, playing a table game.  Ray was generous with his mom's food.  But Lynn was there too.  She was sitting on the chair next to me.  She was in shorts, cool-lots, or something.  I just remember how nervous I was sitting next to a fantastically-looking girl.  Yes, yes, she was sitting on top of the table with her feet on the seat of a chair next to mine.  The polish on her toenails was drying.  She raised her foot to examine how much more time she would need to dry and she accidentally kicked my arm.  She said, "Cold, huh?"  I didn't know what to say.  She was so beautiful, like a goddess, something intangible and beautiful.  I am sure that I must have seen her a few other times since because I was over there a lot.  Ray was a good egg.  Speaking of Ray Johnston, I should definitely get a picture of him.  There is that picture of him and Dave Densteadt coaching the sophomores in the basketball gym.  He was an integral part of my youth.  Ray used to drive around the neighborhood, I mean into all parts of Duarte, to pick high-school kids up and drive them out to Lake Avenue Church in Pasadena for a Christian Breakfast Club.  Hey, we were served french toast, butter, bacon or sausage.  Meals were always group affairs in my life.  Eating at home was hurried, particularly if you wanted seconds; if you didn't hurry, no seconds were left.  But the Christian Breakfast Club was good.  So on Wednesday mornings, I'd end up having breakfast with Jimmy Flores, Beth Eaves who I absolutely had an enduring crush on.  I met her brother Dan Eaves years later.  I was shocked that he was her brother.  Who else was at Lake Ave. for breakfast?  Oh, yeah, Steve Schibsted (sp?); sorry Steve.  Sometimes Bill Armas, for some reason Bill and I rubbed each other the wrong way.  He was vocal.  I was an introvert.  I think that Andrea King could have gone once or twice.  I know for sure that Carol Burgess and Michele Glennon went, but if I recall Michele was not a morning person.  What was really great about Ray Johnston and his Lake Avenue Congregation Church was the small gym in the basement.  Ray had the key to the place.  On Saturday nights, a bunch of Duarte fellows would drive over there to play basketball underground, sometimes until 11pm.  I must be confusing events because right now I had the thought that Henry Martinez used to drive us over to Lake Avenue.  That just doesn't feel right.  Henry at Lake Avenue  In retrospect, the guys that I used to hang to hang out with were really nice to me.  Henry Martinez used to have a souped-up Chevy, and I was in it one night riding with the guys on the Cross Country team.  Henry was playing Creedence Clearwater's "Lookin' Out My Backdoor."  It was one of the best nights of my teenage years. 

Duarte High Cross Country Team, 1971

These are some fantastic pictures of some of the greatest Cross Country runners Duarte ever had.  In the top picture was Tom Ashcraft.  The bottom picture was Marc Greene.  These two were great friends and competitors in the sport; and at times, rivals.  Behind Marc and cheering him to victory are Chuck Geiser and Bernard Ohanian.

This is my first year on Duarte's Cross Country team.  I am sitting on the grass in the front row, fourth from the right.  I loved this photo, though I am not smiling.  Sitting on the grass are from left to right--Dana Lafrance, Carl Krenz, Manual Zalamea, Jim Flores, Mike Walgenbach, David Vanderveer, Felipe Brizuela, and John Guerrero.  His sister was very cute.

Middle row left to right are Allen Ashcraft, Marc Greene (Stewart's older brother), Tom Ashcraft, Kelly Zahnie, a Navajo Indian whom I've known since the 6th grade at Royal Oaks (I still have a scratch paper on which he wrote his phone number back in the 4th or 6th grade), Bernard Ohanian who went to great scholarship and career, Chesty Harris who was high wired, talented Roy Browning, and introspective Algrid Zolp.

Back row left to right are the very tall Chuck Geiser, Ray Arnold, Lannie Lowe, Josef Mittelhammer, Norm Hansen, Jerry Downs, and Coach Hanley.

This is a caption to the picture above. 

Duarte May 5, 2012

An out-of-focus shot I took of a 1982 photograph on display at the Duarte History Museum.

That street behind the electric tower is Greenbank.  Just to the left is Terry Talexson's home, which means that that road running up to me was the old and infamous Avocado Grove.  The scary Avocado Grove where stories of Keith Larsen getting shot by guys with a pellet gun and being chased by Doberman Pinschers.  Those stories were enough to keep out of there. 

This is a flood basin at the top of Tocino Avenue in Duarte.  That field to the left is that Nursery that gets split by Royal Oaks.  When we were kids, Kevin Moore and I snuck into that field one night--they were growing strawberries at the time--and plucked 2 bag fulls of juicy, sweet and pungent strawberries.  Those were the days.  We were kids having fun. 

I took this picture of the Monrovia Convalescent Hospital behind the Duarte Public Library because I and the rest of the Duarte Cross-Country team used to cut through here on our way over to Mountain Avenue up which we'd run to Foothill Boulevard and on up Canyon Blvd. to Monrovia Canyon Park.  That was a tough run. 

It's hard to see from this angle but that white building over the wall is the Huntington Drive Medical Center.  Our family doctor was a Dr. Ramos, a Filipino man whom we put a lot of faith and trust in.  The last time that I saw Dr. Ramos in 1985 for a splinter driven deep into my skin.  I didn't have a pair of tweezers.  At that time he was no longer in this building.  His office then had moved to a professional building on Buena Vista north of Huntington on the same side of the street behind the old Winchell's Donuts.  I loved this town.  I lost so much when my mom passed.  I lost our family's ancestral home on Elda Street, I lost my mom and a few siblings withdrew never to have returned to a family, and I lost a city in the process.  The city has changed so much.  No more Swiss Park.  No more Trails Restaurant, my mother's favorite.  No more Columbia Bowl.  It is sad.  I am surprised that this hospital still stands and didn't make way for townhouses or condominiums.