Fresno / Santa Clara Years: 1952 - 1958
I remember living in a motel until we could find a house in Fresno. We found a new one near Shields and West in the north part of town on West Fedora. It was a new home on bare soil that would challenge my Dad's landscaping skills.
Soon after moving in, we traveled to the slopes near Yosemite to make a snowman.
My sisters and I began attending the local Catholic school, Our Lady of Victory. Dad joined the men of the parish putting the shingles on the school's roof. Zoe led us on a new one mile journey on our bikes to our school. The nuns, Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet, were similar to the ones we had left (Sisters of St. Joseph of Orange). Both groups were strict but loving. The local priests seemed friendlier than those at the previous parish. Fr. McGovern, the Irish Pastor, was kind with a great sense of humor and a simple, but deep spirituality. Fr. Reilly, the assistant pastor, was young, athletic, and very friendly. We arrived just in time for my second grade school pictures:
By springtime we were had settled down and I joined the First Communion class. Sister Mary Martin prepared us well for our first Confession and a first encounter with Jesus in the Eucharist that I would never forget.
This double exposure shows me in front and with my family and me and friends in the background.
My friend, Joey Amoruso, and his family joined us for the celebration at our new home. In the group First Communion picture, he is in the back row, far left. I was three from the far right. In third grade, we built a jalopy together for a local competition. We didn't win but had fun making our own race car. Sister Mary Benedict was our third grade teacher. She introduced me to Tom Harley, a new classmate who had just moved to Fresno from Brooklyn. Tom quickly became and remained my best friend. Tom and I spent many hours at his home with his four brothers or just riding bikes around Fresno. We also began serving Mass together, learning all the Latin responses.
Mary and Joe Amoruso with Angela, Wayne, and Joey; Our jalopy certificate
Within a few years, Dad advanced in management at North American Aviation. With a bigger paycheck he bought a nicer home a few blocks away. At least it had been previously landscaped. He bought the best mower and edger he could afford and, once again, had the finest lawn in the neighborhood. Since the backyard was larger, he planted a garden complete with the corn that he knew so well from South Dakota. When a neighbor hired me to weed his flower beds (he had seen my Dad’s handiwork), Dad showed me a few of his tricks. I tried a few shortcuts and lost the battle with the invading Bermuda grass. After a lecture on honesty and some new instructions on how to do the job right, I was back to work until the weeds were under control. Summers were hot in Fresno, so I took swimming lessons with my sisters.
Dad always stayed in touch with his brother and sisters. In 1955 he decided to drive to Yakima, Washington to visit his sister, Evelyn, her husband, Tom, and their children, Joan, Merle, and Lynne. Uncle Tom was a barber. I was impresses enough to try cutting hair a few years later in the high school seminary. Lynne taught me how to milk the cows. We squirted one another across the barn. Aunt Evelyn always served whole milk with fresh vegetables from the garden.
Dad with Aunt Evelyn; Dad, Mom, and Uncle Tom
Dad and Lynne; Dad and Mom with Jim, Zoe, and Joyce
Back in Fresno, Dad's sister, Fidelis, visited from Bellflower with her husband Bob and daughter Carol. Joyce, Zoe and I joined the group picture:
In 1956, Dad's brother, Vic, visited from South Dakota with his wife Lucille and their children, Dan and Colleen. We showed them the California redwoods and took a few pictures:
Back: Dad, Mom, Uncle Vic, Zoe; Front: Dan, Jim, Joyce, Colleen; Jim & Dan
We still took trips to the snow for wild saucer rides and to Temple City to visit Grandma and Grandpa and to wander around their ranch.
Back in school, my seventh grade class was ready for Confirmation. I posed in our backyard with my dad and a friend:
All the boys from different schools in the Diocese
Second row from the top: Tom Harley and I (third and second from the right side)
By the end of that school year, I had joined the Boy Scouts. I only made it to Second Class because we left Fresno in 1958. Later, I took over as head of the Safety Patrol, and was made Captain of the altar boys.
Leading the Safety Patrol, middle top row
I continued to admire our local priests and had given some thought to becoming a priest myself. The priests, the nuns, and my mother encouraged me. My father was skeptical. In 1957, a visiting Salesian priest and former World War II Army chaplain, Fr. Larry Byrne, preached about vocations at Our Lady of Victory School. After his talk, Tom Harley and I were excited enough about the priesthood to convince our parents to let us travel that summer with Fr. Larry to San Francisco, Richmond, and Aptos. Tom and I were excited when he read Fr. Larry's letter:
What an adventure for the summer after seventh grade. Tom and I joined other local boys in Fresno, and headed for the high school seminarian's summer camp in Bonny Doon in the hills above the Pacific Ocean near Santa Cruz. We stayed in the cabins and enjoyed the swimming pool and hiking trails.
From there we took the seminary bus to visit the Salesian Brothers studying theology in Aptos. They lived in a spectacular mansion (now part of Cabrillo College) near the beach donated to the Salesian order. They gave us a warm welcome.
Our next adventure was San Francisco. After Fr. Larry showed us where we could buy firecrackers in Chinatown, he took us to St. Peter and Paul's Church and the boys club there:
The final stop before the trip back to Fresno was another bus ride to Salesian Junior Seminary in Richmond. We toured the buildings and grounds there. Our guides told us about seminary life.
Dining Hall (Refectory)
Altar in cemetery for Salesians. A few years later, some of my seminary classmates would sneak out here at night to eat donuts taken from the kitchen's walk-in refrigerator.
By the time the bus dropped us off in Fresno, most of us were ready to sign up, but we needed to finish eighth grade and convince our parents to let us go. Life returned to normal with the usual grammar school routines with Sister Cecilia Joseph as principal and eighth grade teacher.
Boy Scouts, traffic patrol and altar boy activities kept me busy while I looked forward to graduation. But a few months later, North American Aviation had closed its factory in Fresno, so my dad had to return to Los Angeles or find other work. After a brief stay in Los Angeles, he decided against Los Angeles, and sought employment elsewhere. He finally landed a job in San Jose at the Food Machinery Corporation (FMC). He stayed in San Jose during the week then joined us on weekends in Fresno. Just before Easter, we joined him in an older home in Santa Clara:
My sisters and I left the Catholic schools that we had attended in Fresno and enrolled in the local public schools. I was excited to escape the rigors of Catholic school for a new adventure in a public school, W. A. Wilson Intermediate School. My sisters attended Santa Clara High School. My dad was relieved from the burden of all the travel back and forth to Fresno. My mother was excited because a Carmelite Monastery was nearby. I would later join her there for Mass or Vespers on my visits from the seminary.
I made new friends in the neighborhood. Don Kuderna and I took our bikes into Santa Clara to pick up some liver on the way to Coyote Creek to catch crawfish. We returned to my home to face my mother with a gunny sack filled with crawfish. She looked stern at first, then laughed and started boiling water for the feast. After lots of picking, we ended up with a big salad.
Once I graduated from the eighth grade, I began to consider the seminary again. Fr. Larry, the Vocation Director, was hot on my trail. He gathered other prospects, and we raced from St. Francis Camp on the beach near Watsonville up Highway One to San Francisco in his station wagon:
Brother Jerry Fury (later my Latin teacher) picked me up in a jeep for another fun weekend on the coast. I was ready to sign up, but I needed Fr. Larry’s help. He visited us in Santa Clara to seal the deal. My mother was all in favor of having a potential priest in the family. My dad wasn't sure that I was old enough to make such a big decision, but he relented after Fr. Larry's spiel and pressure from my mom. I submitted my application in late July. See acceptance letter below:
