Alfonso "El Gato" Madrigal

This guy was one of the toughest competitors I'd ever known.  I met Madrigal playing tetherball in the 4th grade at Royal Oaks Elementary School in Duarte.  On the playground, I was considered the guy to beat in tetherball.  Al had gotten wind of it, so he asked to play me.  I remember it vividly, two 9-year-olds facing off in an epic battle on the asphalt circle, pole at the center with a soccer ball tethered by a cord to the ring at the top of the pole.  I started.  I rang the ball around the pole a few times before Al caught it, where he promptly pounded the ball over my head, making it wrap around that pole like it had been shot out of a canon.  The game was pitched.  It went back and forth for a few minutes before Al, who was stronger than me at that age, rang the ball high up on the pole and out of reach.  As I watched it wrap tightly, I stood stunned.  The guy was an athlete.  I was the champion tether-ball player and Madrigal deposed me.  In good sportsmanship, we each complimented the other, saying good game.  But the impression was lasting.  He appreciated the challenge, and he liked the way I handled defeat.  I admired him too.  Each of us understood that the other was a fierce competitor, and we liked that.

The next time that I met Al was at Northview Junior High School.  There he was part of the Cardinal football team, basketball team, and baseball team.  The guy loved sports.  Wasn't a great fan of golf though.  I didn't really know him that well at Northview because I was into my studies and was hanging out with friends from Fish Canyon, like Mike Carpenter, Phil Weitzman, Ronnie Krall, and John Shandley.  Jimmy Flores lived on Mt. Olive, at the foot of Mt. Olive just inside the limits of Bradbury.

I had many good memories of Al.  During high school, I met him occasionally and only incidentally at the Christian Breakfast Club out at Lake Avenue Congregational Church in Pasadena at 5:30 in the morning.  He was out of my league athletically.  He played Varsity Basketball since the 9th or the 10th grade.  Outside of Lake Avenue's CBC, I used to have lunch with him occasionally at Chuck Burger with Ernie, Bart, and Bill.  I think that Bart would drive his Rambler over to the restaurant most times.  It is funny how you appreciate certain moments in your life that at the time you took for granted.  Actually, going out to eat was one of my favorite activities, and having lunch with friends was the best.  In retrospect, thinking about Ray Johnston's organizing efforts and how he would plan Friday and Saturday night basketball games at Lake Avenue's basement gym or at Steve Schibsted's backyard court were some of the most pleasurable moments of my high school days.  I remember being at Steve's house with Jim Flores, with Al Madrigal, with Steve Schibsted and thinking how lucky I was, that I certainly didn't do anything to deserve it.  It's just that Steve, who was good friends with Ray, was himself a very generous, good guy.  I lucked out.

After high school, we really drifted in other directions.  He went to Cal State LA and studied Communications and Mexican-American studies.  I went to work, first at Steamboat Fried Chicken, then to Colamco in San Dimas, before getting on at UPS in Baldwin Park in 1979.  My days at UPS were a love-hate relationship.  I loved being outdoors; I didn't like running frantically.  It was run, run, run.  Nor did I like large guard dogs barking and springing high enough so that I could see them but them being unaware that they could leap the fence.  I remember one Doberman Pinscher that did just that as I pulled my UPS truck to the curb of one house in the mesa of the City of Industry.  I got the package.  Stood at the steps inside my truck and gauged it.  I bolted from the steps and to the front door.  Dropped the package and ran back.  Thank you, Lord, for not letting my leg get munched!

I met up with Al around 1980 at Bob's Big Boy restaurant in Monrovia.  We got to talking, and he told me that he'd earned his degree from Cal State LA and was taking some time off.  I had just gotten laid off from UPS because it was the end of the Christmas rush.  UPS said they would call me back to work.  They didn't, at least not in a stretch of time that proved that they had lived up to their word.  So I called them.  And called them.  And called them.  Nothing.  No return call.  I called again.  I called every other day for three months.  No reply.  No return call.  Three months later in March, I got a call.  They offered me a job to work nights.  "How many hours?" I asked.  Their answer, "One to one and a half per night."  Would I take it?  I had no job.  I knew about the job lists and how if I wanted to make any decent money I had to be on it.  In order to get on it, I had to work nights so I accepted.  Within a week I was working up to 7 hours a night.  Except for having to work nights and destroying my health with broken sleep, I had it pretty good.  I was bringing home nearly $300 a week working part-time.

Al was coaching middle-aged kids at Immaculate Conception in Monrovia.  He asked if I wouldn't mind refereeing.  I agreed.  It turned out to be fun.  I think that that is what I admired about Al.  He enjoyed his life, his time in everything he did.  He knew his limits.  He knew what he could do and wouldn't do.  Me, on the other hand, I'd go after anything regardless of how it destroyed me. 

 Al Madrigal driving the lane on one of his signature lay-ups against one of the toughest teams in the Rio Hondo League--South Pasadena High School.  Teammate, Steve Schibsted in glasses, watches Madrigal as he drives to the basket.

Wilbert Jackson, #20, stands to the left of Coach Newman. On Newman's left is #23, Shane Kelley.  On Kelley's left is #25, Al Madrigal, one of the toughest competitors in many areas of life.  Sitting on the bench in the middle is #4, Jeff Sadowski.  Sitting on the far left, whose number is obscured, could be Steve Schibsted.  #21, sitting on the bench at the far right is Flannery.  

Northview Junior High School. Go Cardinals!

Pretty terrific bon voyage from 7th to the 8th grade by Rick Larsen.

This cover design was done by Steve Hardy.

     

Paul Parker

I have just this one photo of Paul Parker, who was a terrific friend to me.  He and I went fishing often in his white Ford van that doubled as his landscape commercial vehicle.  But in that van he held all of his fishing gear, ready to pull over to fish at a moment's notice.  So many memories with this guy.  I first met him at Duarte High School.  He was a fierce competitor in so many sports, but when I first met him it was playing handball at Duarte's courts behind the boys' gym.  He borrowed his mom's copper-colored Baracuda.  That was a fine muscle car.  One time Paul and I went on a double date.  He went out with a girl and I went with her sister, Rosemary.  I was head over heels enamored with Rosemary.  I just met her, but her perfume was intoxicating.  I'd never breathed such invigorating air before.  We went out to play miniature golf in Montclair.  Those were the kind of dates people went on in those days--arcades and miniature golf.  Too funny.  It was on that double date that Paul took me kind of serious as a friend.  I also went on a second date with Rosemary.  I went to her house, where her mother served me coffee and milk.  It was one of the first times that I had ever had coffee and milk together.  My dad loved coffee black.  At home, my dad brewed his coffee in a Pyrex Flameware glass coffee percolator.  As the years went by, Paul, myself, Ray Johnston, and others began playing basketball down at Royal Oaks Park.  I spent way too much time playing there.  I also played with Al Madrigal, seen here.  Al was one of the most competitive basketball players that I'd ever met.  In High School, they called him "El Gato" for his fast, fluid moves.  He didn't play basketball his senior year, which is really too bad.  But he didn't play because he felt that Coach Hodges was playing all of his friends rather than playing the best to win games.

This photo is of the North Fork of the San Gabriel River that runs along Highway 39.  The photo was taken in 1937 and is part of the River Series housed online with LAPL.  Paul Parker and I fished this stream at least on 5 separate occasions.

Though I spent many years fishing with Paul Parker, his brother Roy, and their dad Paul Parker, it was Eric Bergquist who first taught me how to fish up on East Fork Creek probably 40 years ago. 

He taught me how to tie a line, how to hook the bait.  We used salmon eggs and we caught 3 to 4 inch trout.  I was overjoyed and hooked.  I wanted to make fishing my entire life.  Even in high school, I had dreams of camping.  I even owned a green pair of Herman Survivor waterproof boots.  I loved fishing with Paul and his dad, mainly because these guys were the best.  They were fun to talk to.  They had fishing instincts like no one I'd ever heard before.  The jokes that Paul Parker, the father, had were the best.  He was a very lovable, decent, and highly intelligent man.  He was a kind of hero in the neighborhood.  Paul Parker, Sr., had a friend by the name of Ronnie with whom he'd go on overnight fishing and hunting trips.  I never went with them, though Paul, Sr., did invite me once or twice.  That was the kind of man that Paul, Sr., was--a very generous, kind, smart man.  His son Paul is a lot like him.

People say that we're not supposed to look back.  When I look at photos like this from the past, I can't help but long for those days.

Duarte Businesses

I think I ate here once.  When the restaurant closed and became something else, The Way It Was, I think, I ate there a few times only because it was close to the Realty World The Foothills in Duarte, where I sold real estate.  The drinks were good.  Below is a matchbox cover from the restaurant with the old telephone district. 

 

Steamboat Fried Chicken.  I learned of this place through my brother, Tom, who used to order a 2-piece chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, cole slaw, a role, and a Coke for under $2.  He told me about it, so I tried it.  I loved it immediately.  The chicken was good, so were the mashed potatoes.  The gravy was so good too.  Right out of high school I went to work at Steamboat.  The owner's name was Hagop "Jack" Douzadjian, who had terrific business sense.  He would introduce new menu items, which always seemed to be a hit with his customers, many of whom frequently came from great distances.  He was a thoughtful employer to work for.  I learned a lot working with him.  Tammy Sleigh and Eric Bergquist also used to work there.  The last time that I ran into Jack was at the Santa Anita Mall, probably 1988.  I was selling real estate then, and he asked me if I knew of a restaurant for sale.  I did not.  I was working part-time only and focusing on residential homes.  Jack was a terrific boss.  I liked working with him.  With pay, he was fair.  This was back in the 70s mind you, where hourly wages for restaurant work ranged between $2 and $4 an hour.  My first full-time job in 1977 paid $3 an hour.  My second full-time job at UPS paid $9.10 an hour and went up from there.  He was one of the most efficient individuals I'd ever worked with.  He was terrific with clients, always giving them what they wanted with extra to ensure satisfaction and to invite them back.  I will say this--working for him was one of the best learning environments that I could have had then.  I learned so much, and since have wanted on several occasions to open a restaurant myself.  If I had opened a restaurant, I think I would have sought Jack out for advice.  With the responsibility of caring for his restaurant, he trusted me.  In the last year, he made me manager, a title that I honored and for which I was grateful.  With me as his manager, it gave him time to get more things done.  He didn't always have to rely on his tall nephew.  

Later, Eric Bergquist was looking for a job, so I recommended him to Jack.  After Eric came Tammy Sleigh.  Tammy wrote in my senior yearbook, "Mike, Well here it is, the end of our high school days.  Thank goodness for that!!!  I'm glad you work at Steamboat . . . and that you're there to talk to.  Well, have a nice summer and don't work too hard!!!  Good luck in the future.  Love, Tammy."  How nice!  Tammy Sleigh was a very sweet woman.  There were times I felt very safe in her presence.  There were a few other local Duarte girls who worked briefly at Steamboat.  I want to say Linda Zahn or Linda Zahl, but I can't remember her last name.  She lived up in the Timmeron section of Duarte.  I worked at Steamboat from the spring of 1975 to the fall of 1977.  Then I transferred to Colamco in San Dimas and began making a whopping $3.00 an hour.  Actually, that was the most that I had made for any job up to that time.  What's funny about me working at Colamco is that within a week of me working there, Eric Bergquist steps through the phlegmatic, late-afternoon sun just outside the warehouse door with a parcel in his hands.  "You work here now?" he asked me.  And that was all.  He'd left as indifferent as he had entered.

This place had the best burgers.  They would overload you with French fries.  Steve Sanders worked here as did Steve Hardy.  Maybe the free food to employees was part of the draw, that and the fact that it was popular among so many Monrovia, Duarte, and Arcadia people.

I never ate at The Pit.  This was a small outfit immediately next to the Baptist Church on the south side of Huntington Drive in Duarte.  It was a tiny place with white gate in front that was recessed from the front of the property line.  I remember that the place was open late.  The business card above states that the place was open until 2am.  Wow!  Those were the good ol' days. 

Anybody remember the Sportsmans Tavern @ 1452 Huntington Drive in Duarte?  It used to be located right next to, east, of the Bank of America at the corner of Brycedale and Huntington.

Here are some great photos of the Blvd. Cafe on Huntington Drive in Duarte.