Arte Pblico Press

Houston, Texas
River of Angels
Alejandro Morales
River of Angels is made possible through grants from the City of
Houston through the Houston Arts Alliance and the Exemplar
Program, a program of Americans for the Arts in collaboration with
the LarsonAllen Public Services Group, funded by the Ford
Foundation.
Recovering the past, creating the future
Arte Pblico Press
University of Houston
4902 Gulf Fwy, Bldg 19, Rm 100
Houston, Texas 77204-2004
Cover photo from the Library of Congress public domain
Cover design by Mora Desgn
Morales, Alejandro, 1944-
River of angels / by Alejandro Morales.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-1-55885-775-9 (alk. paper)
1. FamiliesFiction. 2. Mexican AmericansFiction. 3. Los
Angeles (Calif.)Fiction. I. Title.
PS3563.O759R58 2014
813'.54dc23
2013038013
CIP
The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the
American National Standard for Information SciencesPermanence
of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984.
2014 by Alejandro Morales
Printed in the United States of America
14 15 16 17 18 19 20 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Dedicated to my granddaughters
Isabela Inger Morales Gunz and Iliana Gill Morales
Acknowledgments
I wish to thank Dr. Nicols Kanellos for his methodical editing of
this manuscript and for his continuous support of my work. Also, I am
grateful to Carol Penn for her friendship, painstaking editing, boldness
and guidance that carried me through to the completion of this project.
For years Carol and her husband, Michael Penn, have been my steadfast
literary cheerleaders. Kudos to Marc Petrie for his ingenuity and catchy
enthusiasm for writing.
The following people and institutions made it possible for me to do
the research and have the time to work on this novel: Dr. Jos Antonio
Gurpegui, Director of the Franklin Institute that awarded me the Nebri-
ja Literary Residential Fellowship at the University of Alcal, Alcal de
Henares, Spain; the University of California, Irvine, that granted me
sabbaticals; and my colleagues in the Department of Chicano Latino
Studies at UC Irvine.
I wish to thank my wife, Helen Rohde Teaze, for her love, encour-
agement, companionship and patience during these years of my obses-
sive scribbling on white sheets of paper. Finally, thank you to my fam-
ily: my son, Gregory, and his wife, Kimberly, and their children, Iliana
and Alexander; my daughter, Alessandra, and her husband, Jim, and
their daughter, Isabela: always together in my heart. They have always
been a fountain of love and inspirationmy love to all of them.
To the future readers of this work: If you read this book like a work
of history, you are reading fiction; if you read this book like a work of
fiction, you are reading history.
iv
River of Angels
Alejandro Morales
Prologue
B
astard Out of Carolina! Mark yells again in my car stuck on the
5 freeway, at five on a hot Friday afternoon, heading north toward
Los Angeles. Freeway? I laugh as I look over to the huge white new
Volvo Luxury Liner tractor and then to the left at the Honda Element
driven by a bi-speckled mother juggling a cell phone and reaching back
to comfort her child as we both come together to a sharp stop. All this
happens in seconds while listening to Mark rambling on about a book.
The freeway had not come to a complete stop until almost the East Los
Angeles area. Usually it crunches down to a crawl, then stops at the Val-
ley View exit in Buena Park. Ahead, millions of unending red lights
stream northward, and millions of white lights rush slowing south. The
weather has been strange all week long. A kind of June gloom, but with
high temperatures and humidity, fills the spaces throughout Southern
California. No matter what time you travel, the freeways are congested.
There is never a pause, a completely free space, a feeling of being alone
on the road. Those uncrowded times are long gone. They cannot widen
or stack the freeways fast enoughfrom San Diego to Alaska; Tijuana,
Mexico to Vancouver, Canada; Sacramento, California to Mexico City
to Central Americato take over Canada and Mexico and make it one
big country. After all, we are the Security and Prosperity Partnership of
North America, SPPNA. We could include South America all the way
to Tierra del Fuego.
Bastard Out of Carolina! When hes excited, Mark always raises
his voice to yell. No matter if he is in a car or in a restaurant, he never
realizes how loudly hes speaking to one person, even if that person is
sitting across the table from him. He sits up straight in his chair, cross-
es his arms and talks as if everyone in the restaurant wants to hear about
his day, or listen to his complaint, or any part of his life story. He adjusts
vii
his seat belt and, finally, we begin to move north for a few seconds to
stop again.
Seven, well never make it to the library by seven! Mark turns,
rolls the window down, pushes, and leans half his body out the window
and starts to wave at the cars.
Get off at the next exit! I know short cuts on the surface streets!
He shakes his unruly, bushy white hair; his round, recovering-drug-
alcoholic red puffy face smiles as he waves at cars to slow down to a
stop, allowing us to make our way to the far-right lane and exit on the
off ramp to Garfield Avenue into my territory: Montebello, Simons,
East Los Angeles.
I know my way round here. I went to USC! Lived in LA for years.
Follow Telegraph along the freeway. Well get there before seven! Dont
worry! he assures me while practically screaming in a panic.
Calm down, Mark. You dont have to yell. Im right here next to
you.
A few days ago Mark invites me to the Mark Taper Auditorium at
the Los Angeles Central Library to listen to Dorothy Allison, the author
of Bastard Out of Carolina. The flaming liberal-probably-Democrat
writer is going to read and discuss her new book and other writings.
I have to go hear this writer. She is great! She is a powerful word-
smith.
I accept with a little twinge of dread and a great sense of adventure
because, knowing Mark now for at least ten years, I know that he pos-
sesses a tremendous knowledge and love for literature, and that going
out with him I can expect anything and everything to happen.
Just keep going on Telegraph and then get back on the freeway and
exit on Fourth. I know the maze. Let me read you my latest poem. Its
short! He opens his journal. Mark has thousands of journals filled with
his writingsIm not exaggerating.
As he reads, we drive through the Chicano capital of the world, the
heart of Aztln, the country of East Los Angeles, where Latinos, most-
ly Mexicans, have taken over their undeclared city. A Chicano/Mexican
barrio has been shaped for about one hundred years by white flight.
Like Los Angeles, Montebello and other surrounding cities were aban-
doned long ago by Anglo residents who ran away, who did not stay to
protect their turf, who feared the many brown, yellow, black faces walk-
ing around in their once pure-white neighborhoods.
viii River of Angels
Statistics are overused repetitions of numbers that have no meaning
for the present or the future. The numbers have stabilized. Borders are
no longer a concern. Everybody knows what is on the other side of the
fence, and it is not greener pastures. People are staying put, not moving.
What concerns them is the standard of living, a greater life expectancy,
assurance of a long life span. From the time the SPPNA was signed, all
the regions focused on improving living conditions, and crossing bor-
ders does not make any difference when you can travel at great speeds
from your comfortable home in Los Angeles to a comfortable home in
Baja California.
At this moment Mark and I are struggling with congestion on an
outdated freeway and old Los Angeles streets, trying to get to the Los
Angeles Central Library.
Los Angeles, once sold by Anglo California boosters to white
Protestant investors at the beginning of the twentieth century, again had
become a Mexican city. California, according to the demographers, will
soon have a Latino majority population. Millions of Latinos live in the
southwestern United States. Today, Latinos reside in great numbers in
every state of the Union. The United States will have, by the year 2050,
nearly 130,000,000 Latinos enjoying life in each and every state. In
Mexico there are already a significant number of Anglo Americans liv-
ing well in the northern Mexican states. These populations are con-
stantly crossing the border, going back and forth to their homes both in
Mexico and the United States. For most people today, home is in two
cities. Everything has changed: most importantly, attitudes toward life
and the environment; and the desire to share the wealth, to make life
better not only for oneself but also for ones neighbors. Nonetheless,
there are dangers lurking in these futuristic times.
Neo-nativists are terrified by this vision. Their dread encourages
them to call for a closed border, one language and a stable culture: all
impossible demands to achieve, impossible because they are unnatural
and counter to human development and progress. Borders cannot be
controlledshut down by the military or by a great wall or technologi-
cal devicessimply because inherent human migration cannot be
stopped, detained, held back by artificial means. Attempts to control
borders, to stop the movement of people, have and will cost lives and
billions of dollars. Human migration is a natural phenomenon, as natu-
ral as the mass migration of birds, fish and butterflies. It will cease when
there is no need to move. Language is a living dynamic system whose
Prologue ix
process must be learned, supported, and whose existence must be
encouraged. For the United States, one language is no longer feasible,
productive or wise. Multilingualism is the answer for the times to come.
A stable culture is an anachronistic idea, a silly demand that advances
nativism, racism and discrimination. The United States is a vigorous,
energizing, pluralistic cultural force. Cultures here constantly impact,
change and support each other. Continuous cultural negotiation is the
future. Mark reads on:
The waves of the sea
The sands of the shore
Never the same inscribe
My ever-changing love
For a moment our voices fall silent, and only the motorsof the
SUV, and trucks and cars circulating on the surface streets east of Los
Angelesfill our vehicle. This part of East Los Angeles, along the free-
way, has small muffler, transmission, mechanic, welding, upholstery,
machine shops, light industry long present on the scenesince the twen-
ties, thirties or before. Anglos still own many of the shops, along with the
Mexican mechanics, machinists, welders who purchased these rundown
buildings. The Anglo owners do not live in the barriosthe Mexican
owners do. Some larger buildings and warehouses are owned by Jewish
businessmen who have done business in the Belvedere, East Los Ange-
les communities for decades. Generations of Jewish families have wit-
nessed the Mexican community grow to the majority. Asians who bought
out family-owned liquor and grocery stores have joined in developing
and selling to the Latino commercial base. On the freeway, lingering
voices from all times and spaces pursue me, forcing me to listen as they
invade and mingle in my mind and burrow up from my memory.
Mark points ahead, above a recycled-tire garage, to a billboard dis-
playing a woman in a yellow bikini. She smiles, inviting us to a Gen-
tlemens Club a little further north, not too far; always nearby are warm,
shapely, easy bodies of young women.
I dont think youll dare to go, I challenge.
Sure Ill go! Maybe on the way back.
We are on the freeway again, traveling north toward the 101 or
better known as the Hollywood Freeway. Im looking for Fourth
Street, Boyle Heights, La Plaza de los Mariachis, near La Serenata de
x River of Angels
Garibaldi. For a while my SUV cruises next to the Los Angeles River.
Across the river Los Angeles proper shows off its skyline and several
bridges that lead to downtown. Downtown, under the city, Los Angeles
is a city with history buried underneath its present face. It is a
palimpsest with archives layered one on top of the other by human
beings crossing into this vortex since the ancient people settled here
near the river. I am only an extension. In me there are several hidden
currents of blood running through my veins, like the water running
underneath the cement shell that the Anglos usedto bury, disfigure,
control the Los Angeles Riverin order to smother, oppress the natural
waterways of the river. Someday the river will rise and break through,
crush and wash to the sea the tons of cement that for years have forced
it down.
Theyre beautiful, Mark mumbles.
Whats beautiful?
The bridges. Magnificent architecture.
We exit on Fourth Street and I circle the Mariachi Plaza, where
individuals and groups of men dressed in mariachi suits carry guitars
and strum a tune hoping to get a gig at a birthday party, a wedding, a
quinceaera, a baptism or a serenata for a loved one. I turn right on the
Fourth Street bridge that crosses the Los Angeles River and places us on
the other side near Olvera Street, the Old Plaza, the founding site of Los
Angeles. From the Mexican Eastside, we cross into Los Angeles many
downtown options: Skid Row, Los Angeles Wholesale Produce Market,
Staples Center, Latino Broadway, MacArthur Park, the Central-Ameri-
can zone, Angels Flight, MOCA, Disney Hall, the Los Angeles Cathe-
dral, the Water Grill, the Lost Histories Museum, the Los Angeles Cen-
tral Library and its Mark Taper Auditorium. Once on this side we can
easily work our way to the library.
Nobody knows anything about these magnificent bridges, espe-
cially the ones that cross into downtown LA. Who built them? Theyre
the most ignored beautiful architectural structures in Los Angeles.
Mark rubs his stomach.
The bridges? They were built in the twenties and thirties. The
gringo city fathers built the bridges so that the Mexican laborers who
worked in the city on the Westside could leave. Mexicans worked dur-
ing the daystarting early in morningin factories and sweatshops,
cleaning rich Anglo homes, taking care of their kids. At the end of the
day, back they went, over the bridges to the Eastside. The rich didnt
Prologue xi
want Mexicans living with them or anywhere near them, so the East-
side, known as East LA, was developed for Mexican workers to
inhabit. I think it was a guy named Downey who bought land on the
Eastside and subdivided lots to sell to Mexicans. He gave Mexicans a
home to go to after work, a home on the east side of the Los Angeles
River. Thats what happened. Thats what the Anglos wanted, and thats
what they got. East LA was designated for Mexicans and industry. They
did not want Mexicans living in Hancock Park, West Los Angeles, Hol-
lywood, Brentwood, Beverly Hills. They built the bridges to get those
Mexicans, that labor force, back over to the other side. They didnt care
how they got there: by bus, trolley, car, horse, burro, walking, running.
They just wanted them on the other side, out of sight. Thats why the
bridges were built.
What about Calvary? Mark checks his watch.
Calvary? Where they crucified Christ?
No, Calvary Cemetery on the Eastside?
Because its Catholic and Mexicans are Catholic. The Anglo polit-
ical machine did not want Catholics or Mexicans buried in Los Ange-
les, in the affluent sections of LA. Work for us here, but live, die and be
buried over there on the Eastside. Its history, Mark, fact, unknown,
never written.
Fifteen minutes to get there. Mark stares at his watch or skin can-
cer spots hes been fighting for years.
Were almost there. Ill turn on Spring and head down to the
library.
I catch the lights. I pull out a ticket from the kiosk and drive to the
fourth level of the underground parking behind the library. Mark cant
sit still. His hands grip the door handle, and as soon as I park the truck
he jumps out and starts running up the ramp. At a fast walking pace I
follow his long white hair fluttering behind him, his shirttail hanging
out from under a stained beige blazer.
Mark, slow down! They always start late.
Mark pauses before the garden steps leading up to the main
entrance to the library. A homeless man in bad shape staggers to one of
the benches. Beads of sweat run down Marks forehead. His red face
glistens with perspiration. His damp shirt collar moves up and down
along with his loud heavy breathing. He catches his breath and we walk
up together. A group of talking and laughing people gather at the library
entrance. They wear dark clothes, predominantly black with a little
xii River of Angels
white collar. The men look like priests. The women who wear a white
hat or a black veil can be mistaken for nuns. Mark and I keep walking
to the auditorium and allow ourselves to be swallowed by sharp glam-
orous LA, Hollywood, Beverly Hills movie-industry and literary types.
Mark waves to several fellow PEN members who had encouraged him
to come to the event. All their correspondence occurred through the
Internet. Mark has a high-powered BillionCom, aka BillCom, a com-
puter that has multitudes of communications applications. It is the devil
housed in a light palm-held slim metal container that eliminates talking.
The joy of conversation slowly disappears from the human habits of the
First World. I am sure we walk with poets, journalists, screenwriters,
novelists, playwrights, freelance writers, members of PENa liberal
international organization that has concerns about writers imprisoned
for their writing. They walk into the library confident and arrogant, star-
ing at Mark as if he is a misfit, as if he doesnt belong near them. Mark
stumbles on to the literary show. The deranged stoned homeless guy on
the bench outside would have gotten a better reception. But Mark wants
to listen with them. So do I, so we stand fast and alone, surrounded by
beautiful runny-nosed young Hollywood classics.
We push and shove a little to get through the reception area where
Dorothy Allison smiles behind a counter, signing books and casually
expressing her appreciation to her readers, admirers, supporters of her
personal and literary achievements.
I gotta get up there and buy her books! Marks face drips with
sweat. He wipes his brow and dries his hand on his sport coat.
The heat is unbearable inside the foyer where people crush togeth-
er, smile, sip white wine and try to chat quietly. It seems that everybody
knows each other. They all are so cool, while I, like Mark, am wiping
the perspiration from my face. I pray that beads of sweat will not bub-
ble up from the top of my bald head. If I start to water up there, Ill be
drenched; in a few minutes my shirt will dampen like a paper towel. I
have nothing on my head to hide the sweat: no hat, only a few hairs to
block the rolling drops of salty body fluid. Mark tries to get closer to
Dorothy Allison, but is blocked by a tight-fitting human wall before
him. He is only four standing bodies from the table, but they appear like
hundreds of stacked well-wisherslike asparagus shoots. I shrug my
shoulders. Im unable to help him.
A hairless man approaches me directly; for an instant he stops in
front of me. He holds a glass of wine. His head and face are dry, not a
Prologue xiii
speck of body fluid sheds from that bald pate. For an instant we gaze
into each others eyes, smile and move away. I find nobody, but him . . .
the embrace of an elegant woman. He is dressed in a black suit, black
shirt and tie. How does he do it? Stay so cool, calm and engaging in the
middle of this crush of hot excited bodies. Its probably over one hun-
dred degrees in here. The air conditioning must not be on. The tall glass
doors to an outside patio are closed. Not a breeze, a sliver of wind, of
moving air circulates in this confined space, only voices that grow loud-
er as more people push in to join us. Everyone else but Mark and me
seems cool, comfortable and happy to be here. I notice several wet trick-
les of perspiration running down the back of Marks neck. Mark has
gotten a little closer to Dorothy, who is just about to set out on her
magic transformation road.
Beyond where Mark stands there is an open hallway, but not one
person ventures there, not one person stands and waits there. The hall-
way invites, offers separation and sanctuary for the hot human mass, but
strangely it remains empty like an off-limits place. I wave to Mark. He
sees the open space but is trapped, frozen in a sea of concerned, com-
passionate Hollywood sophisticates. Hollywood, like the political sys-
tem, naturally corrupts, and anybody involved in it must negotiate a path.
In reaching the deal, they always are bought, broken, made a little less
than what they were. In politics everybody has their price; in Hollywood
everybody has their movie. Elected and appointed politicians throughout
all levels of government become corrupted and continue on that path
faithfully. Ditto the Hollywood profiles. Mark is caught floating, per-
spiring and breathing awfully hard in the frozen Tinsel Town stream. I
point to the open space of the empty hallway. The churning current of
beautiful starsthey are all stars in their own mindspulls my friend
away. Helpless, sweaty Mark seems to be sinking. He raises his arms,
swings them over his white hair, desperately fighting the riptide.
I work my way toward the empty space of the hallway, and sud-
denly I am pushed into a woman. I grab her arms and prevent her from
falling backwards off her high heels. The woman pushes off immedi-
ately and from a distance offers up a disgusted stare, a mueca of nausea.
I think: Hey, I just saved you from being trampled by your own kind! I
watch her latch onto the arm of a movie star. I got the you make me sick
look. I consider my shirt, pants and shoes. To her maybe I am just anoth-
er homeless guy who wandered into the library. Her gaze is enough to
remind me of who I am in her eyes. Still not free from the crush, I turn
xiv River of Angels
in a circle and notice no other brown faces. At least from what I can
determine, there are no other brown faces attending the reading. There
are millions outside but only one in here. Two black faces and one Asian
staff member are present, but no other people of color attend this liter-
ary de facto segregation event.
I break away from the crowd and stumble into the hallway, find
freedom and space in which to move. Five, six steps, I see MEN. I cup
my hands and splash cold water on my head and face. I sense a pleas-
ant coolness. I push my head closer to the faucet and splash water on
my neck. Head down in the washbasin, I sense a guy watching me. He
is as cool as an iced dill pickle. Dressed in black, he adjusts his tie and
walks out as if the bathroom is empty, as if I am not present, as if I do
not exist. I am familiar with being seen but not seen. I follow the man
and watch him return to the crush. I walk in the opposite direction, hop-
ing to find a cool spot in this house of books. Maybe I can discover an
outside patio where I can feel a breeze. I find myself walking toward
another hall that offers another directional choice. Photographs, rows of
photographs run the entire length of the walls. To my left, to my right,
and before me the photographs multiply and draw me to them. Histori-
cal photographs of Los Angeles taken according to the dates circa 1931.
I scan four and, to my surprise, their world and time peers back. They
are photographs of the downtown Los Angeles River bridges at differ-
ent stages of construction. I stand at a crossroad of time gazing at men
and machines and their creations, and I know they are staring at me,
calling me to recognize them, as if my glance into their space would
make them live again and again.
In one photo, fifteen men, workerswith sleeves rolled up, sus-
penders, wearing what appear to be heavy high rubber bootssmile at
me. Their posture, smiles reveal them as warm, tough guys whom I
would have liked to have met, in order to talk to them about their work,
their families, their dreams, to embrace them as brothers, as important
workers. They gather around a cement mixer and pose for the camera.
One sits on top of the cement mixer, several stand leaning on shovels,
and the rest of the crew intertwine their arms on each others shoulders.
They smile against the background of the massive footings of the Sev-
enth Street bridge. I look away from the photo and see the hallway walls
covered with photographs chronicling the building of the bridges over
the Los Angeles River. I advance, stop and peer into the framed time
and life captured in another photo of twenty-five workers. I touch every
Prologue xv
one. I pray. I ask for their help. I whisper to the twenty-five men sitting
high on top of a massive concrete pillar. Beyond them rises the City of
Los Angeles. I study their faces. They, too, smile. I quickly move to
other photographs of different bridges, crews and times. Naturally, I
start looking for Mexicans. The men appear the same. I cannot distin-
guish between a Mexican and an Anglo. I find one Asian, but then he
could be Mexican. I see two black men, but they also could be Mexican.
I slowly move down to a photograph where I find a crew with Mexicans.
There had to be Mexicans working on these crews, Mexicans building
the bridges of Los Angeles. In this photograph the twenty-five men
stand by the door of a truck that reads Sun Construction Company. I
fall into their eyes and sense my grandfather, my father, his face under
that hat behind the Zapata mustache. This crew has Mexican workers.
Again I stare into their eyes in hopes of hearing a sound, a word, a
phrase. They have to tell me something, communicate a feeling, a mem-
ory to me now here in this place. I possess a gift, un don, de or y sen-
tir los sentimientos de los que caminaron sobre estas tierras antes de
m. Todos son mis hermanos, mis hermanas y yo, como ellos, quiero
existir ayer, hoy y maana. Their energy is presentI sense it even
among these people at the library who do not feel the place where they
live. I keep looking into the not-so-distant eyes of those Mexican men
working on the Los Angeles bridges. I see a black box on a tripod, a
photographer with a lamp in his hands.
The noise in the lobby fades into the running water of the Los
Angeles River, ignored by most, hated by many, profoundly loved by a
few. A loud pop, a flash of light in the late afternoon make us all laugh.
xvi River of Angels
KNOWING
On this river
your sweat could
turn to freedom
the year could
become stories
the small town
the bodys way
of knowing
On this river
a flood would
clean the soul
like a bad foot
embedded
in the mud
On this river
you could pray
like the mantis
hidden in
tall grass
the hearts way
of devouring
itself
Ray Gonzalez
PART ONE
I
n 1842 the Pueblo of Los Angeles, nestled next to its Ro de la Por-
cincula, received more and more settlers from the interior of Mexi-
co and from the southern and northeastern areas of the United States.
From Mexico came Mexican and Chilean miners who had panned for
gold in the streams and rivers of Sonora and Chihuahua, the northern
Mexican frontier. These men had a knack, un don, developed particu-
larly for cradling and panning gold in difficult hard-to-access fresh
water streams and rivers. They had a nose for gold. They seemed to
know where it might appear. California had thousands of streams and
rivers waiting to make hard-working men rich. They arrived in Los
Angeles, bought sustenance supplies and went directly to the edge of
the river looking for source streams to follow into the hills and moun-
tains where they camped, working different sections of the streams and
deep arroyos. After a few days several went directly to the supply store
to sell their gold, then returned to search for a new stream up the hills
and valleys. In the city these mineros left their gold and also many sto-
ries about their fate and fortune. Some men went back to the river in
search of other men who had entered the wilderness but had not come
back. The stories say that very lucky mineros found large amounts of
gold nuggets but decided not to exchange their find, instead packing it
in leather bags and heading south back to Mexico by way of the interi-
or, first along the mountains and then into the desert.
It is said that this was the trail followed by the Zavella brothers, the
oldest twenty-seven and the other twenty-four. They were last seen in an
Indian village near Temecula, where they arrived half naked, beaten,
suffering from exposure. They were treated by the Indian women and
were invited to stay, but they refused. The brothers Zavella were fright-
ened and moved on into the night. Before they left they spoke of being
overtaken by a force that made them abandon their camp, leaving
2
behind four bags of gold nuggets they did not attempt to defend. The
Zavella brothers were never seen again. Events like these made other
men follow the paths of miners who had struck it rich, only to lose their
wealth and their minds. The gold is still out there somewhere in the
mountains, in the arroyos, the desert and the rancheras, places where
these men sought shelter. The stories of striking it rich were more allur-
ing than those of disaster, pulling hundreds of men into the ancient Los
Angeles basin. The majority worked sections of the Ro de la Porcin-
cula; some found gold, but others soon became discouraged by the long
hours panning and operating cradles that failed to pay off.
The Ro de la Porcincula did not give up its stones easily. The
Indians believed that the river spirit considered all that existed in its
waters living precious objects, sending out its river energy to bring them
back. The native people knew that in some way, some time, all things
from the river would return to the river. The rivers spirit would never
be controlled; it was unpredictable; it was greater than man. The
mineros worked the river with great respect and care. Rumors of rich
northern streams encouraged them to head toward San Francisco. They
purchased supplies and started their trek in hopes of better stakes in the
many waterways emptying into San Francisco Bay. They would even-
tually make their way as far north as the Columbia River in the Oregon
Territory. But many stayed near the Sacramento River, for there they
began to have success. Anglo prospectors followed the Mexicans and
Chileans who knew where to look, what to do, how to treat the rivers,
streams and earth so they would offer up hidden treasures.
As more travelers and settlers arrived in Los Angeles, crossing the
river from both directions became an issue. During the summer months
the crossing was mostly safe, unless sudden flash floods swept down
from the mountains. A shallow spot was usually found, but if the people
had a great many belongings or heavy equipment, it was slow going.
Sometimes it took them three to four trips to bring all their belongings to
the other side. During the spring with the snow runoff, the river rose well
over ten feet in sections, with treacherous currents rushing to the sea. In
the winter when the rains came, it was almost impossible to cross.
According to church records, ten to fifteen people had drowned one win-
ter attempting to cross the usually peaceful Ro de la Porcincula.
In 1844 a family of ten Anglo homesteaders who had traveled from
the East through Indian Territories approached the Ro de la Porcincu-
la and camped for a few days before attempting to cross the river in
River of Angels 3
early spring. It had been a heavy snow year and spring came in with
weeks of a heat wave followed by days of heavy thunderstorms that trig-
gered powerful flash floods. When the Norris family began its first
crossing, the sun was bright, the river was up to their horses chests and
there were only a few clouds against the foothills. The Norrises left their
two oldest sons to guard the family belongings that they had taken out
of their covered wagon to make it light enough for the horses to traverse
the muddy areas. The family started to cross from the east side, slowly
and carefully moving diagonally toward the west side.
Along with the two Norris boys and several fishermen watching the
Norrises advance from one side to the other, stood Abelardo Ros, a
farmer who owned a large portion of land bordering the river. Abelardo
Ros had inherited his ranch from his father, who had received the land
from his father. It was Abelardos father who had named the parcel El
Rancho el Cachito de la Porcincula. In reality, his ranch was a small
portion of land, un cachito, surrounded by holdings taken over by Ang-
los who had recently come into the area. For as long as neighbors could
remember, Abelardos family had worked that portion of land along the
river. The years and years of working the soil and fighting the changing
river had made it their land. No one else had claimed, no one else want-
ed that precarious parcel. In fact, people considered the land worthless
because of the unpredictable river constantly changing its course to the
sea. Not even the new Anglo owners of the great ranches in Encino or
the old soldier Griffith had ever questioned Abelardo about his owner-
ship of the land. Because for years Abelardos family had survived
countless floods, sudden changes of the rivers course, and even earth-
quakes, it became a ritual to consult with Ros when considering any
planting or construction of zanjas, ditches, that would direct water to
interior farm lands or to developing residential areas. Anglo ranchers,
developers and entrepreneurs often arrived at Abelardos ranch house
seeking him out for a reading of the current state of the river, for a pre-
diction about what path the river would take in the near future. On many
occasions, Abelardo was able to help them; in turn, they let him live in
peace on his land.
Abelardos knowledge of the river came from family memory and
personal experience. He made it a point of pride to remember the vivid
descriptions of great floods, stories shared by his father and grandfather
sitting around the dinner table, in front of the fire during cold rainy win-
ters, or on the front porch during summer heat waves. The floods came
4 Alejandro Morales
at all times, when it rained and when it did not rain. When it rained, the
city and its families had a better chance to prepare for the expected
overflow of the river. The great floods never left Abelardos mind. He
recalled when the river created a large temporary lake out to the Bollona
Creek. The Los Angeles residents called that rainy season the Novician
Deluge. The rain fell heavily and constantly for so many days that many
people thought it was announcing the end of the world. Abelardo
remembered how many times the river had changed course. One night
when he went to bed, the river flowed in the front of the house; when he
got out of bed the next morning, the river flowed in the back of the
house.
It was two years before, during a time that the river had been rela-
tively quiet, that John M. Baldwin consulted with Abelardo about build-
ing a mansion and a private golf course near the river in the foothills at
the edge of Colonel Griffiths land.
The Colonel declares no claim to that property. He knows that
beautiful sloping flat piece belongs to the river. The river leans on that
edge to decide its course and often embraces it for days.
Abelardo spoke directly and frankly with Baldwin, the rich editor
of the Daily News and the Weekly Herald, who must have thought: What
does this Mexican Indian know about the river? The newspaperman
compared Abelardos advice to that of his professional engineers and
architects who had assured Mr. Baldwin, after conducting a series of
scientific tests, that he could build there without any fear of flooding.
Months after Baldwin had completed his large ornate mansion and well-
groomed golf course, he and his family watched from high above his
estate as the fast-rising river demolished his house and churned into
mud his beautiful green golf course.
Baldwins decision to build after ignoring Abelardos advice was
often recounted among the elites of Los Angeles.
It takes more than one Mexican Indians advice to overturn five
professional engineers and two architects.
If you seek out Abelardos advice, then you better take him seri-
ously!
If you have any inkling of belief in natures spirit and in Indian
magic, then you better listen to Abelardo Ros and not to your expen-
sive experts.
Colonel Griffith did not build on this beautiful and inviting land
precisely because he had approached Abelardo to ask why the Ros fam-
River of Angels 5
ily did not claim the property. Griffith listened carefully to Abelardos
reasoning, and on that afternoon they walked away from one another
with mutual respect.
The great floods continued for years. The Los Angeles residents
almost became accustomed to the annual inundations. People simply
did not build near the rivers edge. During the rainy season they only
went to view the water rushing down to the ocean. Abelardo Ros fam-
ily and one or two more, who for generations had lived by the river, still
maintained their homes there, and Abelardo still farmed his land as had
his father, living in the same house in which he was born.
Abelardos most intimate knowledge of the rivers ways came from
his willingness to associate with and listen to the ancient people. The
Indian fishermen talked to the abundant steelhead trout and asked of the
fish permission to catch and eat them. The Indians knew how to listen
to the trout that had traveled the length and depth of the river, the trout
that had swum against currents and around every turn of lush vegetation
crammed with wild roses, grapes and spices that perfumed the air and
calmed the spirit, the trout who had explored the underground begin-
nings of the rivers natural sources. The Indians listened to plenty of
water, to plenty of trout, to plenty of animals, and to plenty of vegeta-
tion, and to plenty of wind and rain, to all that combined to understand
the rivers voice, to sing the rivers cycles, to know the rivers space and
to sense the rivers movement. Excitable, like a child, every year the Los
Angeles River played with its banks like toys. Every year the river
carved out new toys, and as time progressed the river created its story.
Abelardo learned how to detect the rivers feelings by sitting for hours,
sometimes for days, listening to the Indian elders, the wise men, the
wise women, whose culture, stories and language had survived thou-
sands of years, enduring even the brutal invasion and conquest by Span-
ish soldiers and Spanish priests.
In 1769, Spanish Franciscan brown-skirt missionaries, accompa-
nied by soldiers, traveled north from missions in Baja California and
began to convert the Indian population. During this process of conver-
sion to Catholicism, the missionized Indians were also converted into a
dependent labor source to be exploited to the limits of human decency.
Upon their arrival, the Spanish soldiers took all their European hands
could grab, but mostly they demanded women, who became permanent
slaves at the military posts. Repeatedly the Spaniards raided the vil-
lages, carried away old and young women and forced them to clean,
6 Alejandro Morales
wash, cook and produce food. The younger women were raped and
made to understand that at any time they had to acquiesce. Once the sol-
diers tired of their young concubines, they released them into the forest,
expecting them to die of exposure, but some found their way back to
their villages and families, unaware that they had been infected with
European diseases. For the ancient tribe of the Village of Yangna and
their offspring, syphilis was the most horrible and devastating disease
the Spanish soldiers had brought. In his lifetime, Abelardo had observed
the dazed stare of Indian men and women who had been subjected to the
tragic and violent transformation of people from freedom to slavery.
Abelardos understanding of his peoples history came from what had
been spoken but not written.
Embedded in his memory were scenes from the lives of the earliest
inhabitants of this place, vivid stories of intruders who had arrived on
the banks of this river and imperiled his peoples survival. Abelardo
knew that the brown-skirts had forced all of the Indians, including the
children, to stay at what they called the missions, but many native peo-
ple resisted and ran away to the mountains or into the chaparral on the
hills and lands leading to the sea. Their way of life brutally disrupted
and threatened, the Indians had lost almost complete control of their
land, language, religion and bodies. They were in danger of disappear-
ing as a people. Those who had survived lived robbed of their land, their
way of life and their dignity. They lived in the open fields, in the forest
or along the river in inhumane conditions.
The old and the young, no matter how destitute, carried with them
a hope. The shamans encouraged this hope, because they were con-
vinced that the Indians who disappeared were not dead but taken to
another place by brothers and sisters who had existed for thousands of
years. These ancestors were the earth spirits, so powerful that they could
move mountains and transfigure their bodies to trick the evil invaders.
They could be as minute as the smallest particle, as big as the tallest
human and as imposing as a mountain. The earth spirits transformed
their physical human likeness into reptiles: the lizard people.
Whenever they desired, the lizard people appeared to humans. Nei-
ther space nor time could contain them. Usually they came during times
of distress, but they also showed up in happy times. The people of
Yangna told stories about a race of ancient and intelligent lizard people
who had built great underground cities near the Pacific. According to
legends, one of the magnificent cities was located underneath Los
River of Angels 7
Angeles. The Indian nations that had vanished from the face of the earth
had not perished, but were with the lizard people underground. Indian
men, women and children who had suffered tragic deaths were selected
by the lizard people to live with them in their clandestine communities.
At times they sent people back to the surface to save humans who were
in trouble. Those chosen were returned to the exact site of their rescue
and salvation. What they had experienced living with the lizard people
was quickly supplanted by the memories of the daily paths and sites of
the place they had left. The marvelous life of the underground city
became faint moments, glimmers in their dreams and reveries.
Abelardo believed that his wife Toypurinas mother was happily
living beneath the surface of the earth. He accepted the existence of par-
allel worlds where humans and animals originated together and could
speak to each other. He remembered his grandparents speaking what he
considered a sacred language with other native people in the area, but it
was the voice of the river, the language of the river, living next to the
river, possessing the secrets of the river that had protected his family
from the Spaniards, that had protected the women of the Ros clan from
invading Spanish soldiers and Anglo foreigners, from the priests and
from other Indian groups. Abelardos knowledge and love for the river
spared the Ros family and their property even from the fickle river
itself. The river had always gone around them and their porcincula.
Abelardo had the Indians to thank. He never forgot and was never
ashamed of who he was. For years he visited the Indian villages, and
even later when the Indians lived impoverished in hovels, filthy, hungry
and sick, Abelardo did not fail to provide some food, medicine and, if
he could, work.
Especially during the Christmas season Abelardo provided for as
many families as he could afford; however, he never put his family or
his possessions at risk of economic loss. From his land, he looked out
over the river and prayed to the Great Spirit: Your people, who still
love and praise you, can no longer protect you. Their hearts have been
broken, and it is a difficult task to mend the fleshy pieces! Abelardo
considered himself a member of the Indian population. He felt connect-
ed to its spiritual traditions, thankful that his understanding of the
guardian spirits of the river offered protection and gifts so abundant that
they could sustain not only his family but could be shared with neigh-
bors and newcomers as well.
8 Alejandro Morales
IN 1882 ABELARDO Ros stood contemplating the river, watching a
family of new settlers getting ready to cross the river. Abelardo waved
his arms.
No crucen ahora! Esperen! Dont cross now, later!
The settlers looked at him, waved back and continued to prepare for
the crossing. Like the Norris family years ago, this family did not take
Abelardos warning seriously. They did not pay attention to the Mexi-
can or Indian waving a warning. The current increased in speed and the
water seemed to get thicker and heavier. There was still plenty of snow
as thunder clouds loomed over the San Gabriel Mountains. Across the
river the man handed up a little girl to his wife, who was sitting on the
back bench of their wagon. The older boys, with reins in hand, sat up
front holding the two horses steady. The boys watched Abelardo wav-
ing to the man to stop, yelling at him not to cross. The man smiled,
waved back, climbed on the large family wagon and whipped the horses.
The two beasts slowly, carefully advanced. The horses neighed and hes-
itated, but another two lashes from the oldest boy got them moving for-
wards. At the point of crossing, the river was about three to four feet
deep. The bottom was muddy and rocky. The water level reached three
quarters up the wheels. They advanced almost to the middle of the river,
where the current grew stronger. Abelardo waved his hands vigorously
toward his chest, encouraging the man to cross faster.
Pcale a los caballos! Vamos, rpido! El ro sube!
Abelardo encouraged the horses to head toward the shore. The
water lapped at the top of the wheels. The horses began to struggle, not
finding solid footing on the shifting sand, on the rolling rocks on the
river bottom. Abelardos wife joined him in attempting to guide the
family to the rivers edge. Now the water splashed into the wagon and
pushed against the horses bodies, pushing the desperate beasts one
against the other, making it harder for the animal downriver to hold his
head above water and stand. The younger children cried out, the moth-
er called her husbands name, seeing him with all his strength pulling
the reins to steady the horses. The sound of rolling rockssnapping,
cracking over and over on the rivers edgegrew. As the man stood up,
pulling at the reins to control the horses, the river had risen to where he
and his wife were now standing on the wagon. Abelardo felt the water
around his feet. He moved back to higher ground. A sensation of weak-
ness moved through his arms, his heart registered hopelessness. The
family was in desperate trouble. The horses were soon gone, and the
River of Angels 9
water slowly pushed the wagon onto its side. Downriver one boy clung
with his father to the edge of the wagon. Mother and daughter floated
together. She looked toward the shore where Abelardo ran, waved and
coaxed her to make the effort to come closer. From her eyes and arms a
frenzy of strength moved them nearer to the edge. With great effort and
determination the woman kicked away from the center of the current
and swam with her daughter toward the shore. The woman looked back
to see her husband still holding on to the side of the wagon. He sub-
merged as the wagon went down, completely overturning once, twice,
then disappearing under the churning brown water and finally emerging
in thousands of pieces. Downriver the water had swept the horses out of
sight. The boys and their father were gone. Sadly, Abelardo thought
about where the river would release their bodies, allowing them to float
after the current calmed down and allowing their loved ones to retrieve
their bodies. But maybe they had survived; maybe, as it had happened
before, they would crawl out soaking wet, seeking help. Abelardo
smiled, thinking that maybe the river had pushed the man and the boys
ashore, to safety, to life. At times the river had spared lives; at times it
was merciful and gave people a second chance.
Abelardo! Abelardo! Abelardo! Toypurina was shouting.
Downriver on a rocky edge, he managed to grab onto the womans
arm and struggled to pull her out of the water. Abelardo dragged the
woman and her daughter to high ground and forced the sobbing woman
to release her child.
Sultala! Let her breathe!
Youre squeezing too hard! Abelardos wife pried the womans
arms from around the child, then slapped the girl on the back, making
her cough up water and take a deep breath. The childs cry overcame her
mothers sobbing. This was a good sign, Abelardo thought, wrapping
his coat around the womans shoulders. For an hour they waited and
watched the rivers surface become glass. That night, the woman and the
child remained with Abelardo and his wife. The Ros fed them soup,
fresh-baked bread, warm tea and sweet milk for the child. The woman
could not be consoled. With her daughter next to her, wrapped in a
warm blanket, she cried herself to sleep.
WHEN, BEFORE THEIR eyes the river had taken away any trace of a
father and his boys, Abelardo remembered Toypurinas advice: Build a
big ferry raft, charge a fee to take wagons across the river. The gringos,
everyonefarmers and familieswill pay for the service. In the earli-
10 Alejandro Morales
er tragedy, except for Mr. Norris, the river had given up all that familys
bodies. The last one was found at sea. The Norris family catastrophe
had happened twelve years earlier when Toypurina was pregnant with
their second son, Otchoo. To demonstrate their reverence for the river,
the elders named the Ros child Otchoo in honor of the trees that grew
near the river, sentinels of the rivers eternal transformative energy.
Some trees had survived the rivers unpredictability for decades. Others
were torn away by heavy currents or by a change in the rivers path to
the sea, but Toypurinas people believed that the river always brought
the trees back to rise again on its shores as guardians voicing warnings:
young trees meant a newly formed riverbed and shore, old trees meant
established shorelines. Although some trees were tall and strong, this
only meant that they would probably survive the next flood or new river
course to the ocean. At any time, the river did what it pleased. Their
firstborn son had been named Sol, because at the instant he was born a
sunray found its way into the house and kissed the newborns face,
made him cry and reach out toward the sun. At the time of the second
tragedy, Abelardos sons were old enough to help him build and operate
a raft.
Not only homesteading families, but farmers as well were increas-
ingly making crossings. On yet another tragic day, Abelardo and his
wife felt certain the timing was right for a raft ferry service when they
saw thousands of small bunches and individual grapes intermingled
with wood from an overturned farm wagon floating on the slow current
of the river. Minutes later, Toypurina pointed to more grapes moving
faster on the surface. A six-mule team and their grape-filled canastas
had been caught in a flash flood. Across from them on the other side of
the river, a big grey mule struggled to climb up onto the edge. One mule
survived, wondering where the others would rise. In the sky a large
black form glided, circling the river. Abelardo followed the condors
rise toward the San Gabriel Mountains. Upon seeing a majestic condor
Abelardo considered himself blessed. As long as the condor survived,
Abelardo believed, his family would thrive. Abelardo prayed as the con-
dor flew over the site where he planned to build his rafts.
To help him get started, the owners of houses on the hills who con-
sulted with Abelardoabout the weather, crops and most importantly
about the rivergave him wood that they had planned to burn. The
millers offered him five large beams for future consultations. Abelardo
gathered wood from homesteads whose owners ran out of money or per-
River of Angels 11
12 Alejandro Morales
severance, causing them to abandon their houses and farms. He went to
several men who had built small boats, asking for guidance on con-
structing a raft with a steering mechanism that would allow him to
depart from one side of the river, travel to the other, and then return to
the original point of departure.
Sol and Otchoo helped in the framing, and when they had finished
the raft, Toypurina joined her family in the painting of the eighteen-foot
by twelve-foot by three-foot vessel that Abelardo and consultants pre-
dicted would carry a loaded ten-foot wagon and one- or two-horse team
across the river. Longer teams would be disconnected and brought over
separately. The cargo was what was important. Anglo businessmen who
transported goods from farms and vineyards on both sides of the river
depended on the safety of their cargo. Using river water, Los Angeles
winemakers produced thousands of gallons of wines that they distrib-
uted far north to San Francisco and far south to Baja California. Abelar-
dos raft would move the wine and other products east or west across
the river.
Abelardo went to see Jonathan Cyland, a boat manufacturer, who at
first had refused to meet him, but later on was willing to explore a busi-
ness idea no matter whose it was. Abelardo explained his plan, and
Cyland liked what he heard. Cyland then suggested that Abelardo call
his vessel a barge, that he build two different-sized barges, that he con-
struct four docks, two on each side of the river, that the crossing be con-
trolled by ropes and cables attached to pulleys on each dock, and that he
not hire any coolies. The crews would roll in the ropes and pull the
barge across the river. Abelardo did exactly as Cyland instructed, and by
the middle of the summer of 1885 Abelardo, Toypurina, Sol and Otchoo
Ros, along with Jonathan Cyland, inaugurated the Ros, Sons and
Cyland River Barge Transportation Company.
Always call your vessel a barge. Its more professional to refer to
them as barges. It inspires safety and confidence in your customers.
Abelardo, remember: no Chinese laborers! We have too many coolies
here already!
The Chinese had constructed the track for the first railroad to Los
Angeles in 1869. General Phineas Banning took all the credit, but it was
Chinese labor that made it happen. Abelardo considered the Chinese
good workers, and he would hire them. It was their labor that brought
the first Southern Pacific rail line from San Francisco to Los Angeles in
1876. He was aware that the railroads were coming fast into the area and
River of Angels 13
that they would eventually need to cross the river. Men from the railroad
companies had come to ask him questions about the river and the land
that bordered it. They wanted to know who owned the land, who lived
near the river and how those people sustained themselves. They asked
him to point out the solid, stable ground that bordered the river. The
answers to these questions were obvious to Abelardo. Confidence
developed between them. Abelardo cooperated with them, and they
offered to pay him well for his knowledge.
The crossing enterprise proved to be a success. Abelardo, Otchoo,
Sol and Franco Morretti, one of Cylands employees, operated the river
barges from six in the morning to sundown. During high-water times,
people went to the docks to cross the river. The barges, on schedule,
were safe and dependable. After about a year of crossing people, hors-
es and wagons, Sol proposed that the two small barges be used to trans-
port passengers up and down the river. Traveling downriver with the
current was easy, but navigating upriver was the challenge. They used
poles to push against the current when it was light. When the current
was strong, they used poles, ropes and horses to move upriver. More and
more people requested transportation up and down the river, and
Abelardo and Franco went to Cyland to arrange for more barges and to
hire two more men. Cylands office was located in San Pedro, where his
company warehoused the construction materials for a bridge being con-
structed at Macy Street. Cyland ordered two men, Paolo Morretti, Fran-
cos brother and their friend William Ross Henry, off the bridge project
and assigned them to the barge company. Abelardo discovered that the
three had years of experience building bridges in the East. Reassign-
ment to work for the river transport company upset William Ross Henry,
but he, like the Morretti brothers, had signed a five-year contract with
Cyland, who had paid for their trip to California to work for Cyland. By
October of 1887, two years after the establishment of the Ros, Sons and
Cyland Barge Transportation Company, Abelardo and Toypurina and
their sons, Cyland, the Morretti brothers and Henry watched as Los
Angeles Mayor William H. Workman cut the ribbon to open the new
wood-covered bridge on Macy Street. After the last speech the mayor
and a gang of politicians walked over to the east side of the river.
Toypurina and Abelardo walked not far behind the mayor, who,
when he got to the other side, greeted the waiting crowd, gave a short
talk and invited several other politicians to speak. The mayor had com-
pleted his presentation and started back to the west side of the river. He
14 Alejandro Morales
walked toward Abelardo and Toypurina. Toypurina pushed Abelardo
back, protecting him from the faceless omen she saw in the mayor. She
stood in front of her husband as the mayor walked by shaking hands
with the people who lined the bridge.
Most of the Los Angeles residents and people in neighboring com-
munities were soon enjoying the convenience the bridge offered. Labor-
ers who worked on the west side of the river used the bridge every day
to return to their dwellings on the east side. On certain days and hours
during the week, it seemed that only workers moved back and forth over
the river. Mexicans, blacks and Chinese had settled in the center of the
city around the old plaza. However, that was changing, and there was a
deliberate and obvious push to house Mexicans on the east side of the
river. The city council made it easier for Mexicans to buy property and
build houses on the Eastside. Mostly Mexican workers and agricultural
businesses still used Abelardos barges, but many residents walked or
rode horses across the white wood-covered bridge. The Macy Street
bridge became neutral territory, where all races, religions and ethnici-
ties converged because of the economic necessity of crossing over the
river quickly. The City of Los Angeles had painted the bridge a bright
white that reflected the sunlight and made the bridge visible from a dis-
tance. The color and brightness of the bridge became an issue to some,
who complained to the city council that the bridge was too bright, mak-
ing it stand out from the natural surroundings. The bridge should be a
dark color, a dark green and brown that would blend nicely with the
rivers natural setting, they argued. The bridge remained bright white
for everyone to see.
Over the years, the bridge was battered by heavy storms and floods.
The city constantly repaired and painted the wooden structure to keep it
clean and safe for its users. Many times Abelardo, his sons, the Morret-
ti brothers and William Ross Henry, while tying the barges to the docks,
watched what seemed to be all the water in California rush by to the sea.
The Los Angeles, the San Gabriel and the Santa Ana often overran their
banks to inundate sections of the Los Angeles basin. During heavy
storms Abelardo closed the transportation company; it was too danger-
ous to attempt to cross the river. People went to the covered bridge to
cross, but merchantswith wagons full of cargo too heavy for the
bridgewent to Abelardo and offered three times the fee to cross their
wagons by barge. Abelardo calmed the farmers, desperate to get to the
Los Angeles Wholesale Produce Market. Once the river slowed down
River of Angels 15
and stopped rising, Abelardo crossed the farmers and their wagons over
to the west side.
On the west side of the bridge, the Bard Family Mortuary was the
first large house people saw upon exiting the bridge. Each evening, Bard
walked the bridges four-hundred-foot length from west to east, from
east to west, lighting the coal-oil lamps that provided light for the
evening pedestrians. Early in the morning Bard returned to snuff out the
flames. At any time of night when the storms winds became too pow-
erful, Bard got up to turn off the lamps for fear that the shaking of the
covered bridge would knock down the lamps and cause a fire. Abelardo
always took Bards precaution as a sign to double check and secure his
barges and to completely prohibit people from crossing the river by
barge at that time. Bard worked on his side and Abelardo worked on the
other side of the river.
It never failed that, even after being warned, stubborn people
drowned while attempting to cross on weakened rope and wooden slat
bridges that never lasted through the rainy season. No matter what the
season, crossing those unpredictable swinging bridges was always
risky. After a violent storm, Jacob Bard carefully inspected every inch
top to bottom, from one side to the otherof the white bridge. If he
found any damage, he immediately called in the city carpenters and, if
needed, engineers to repair the damage. Storm after storm, flood after
flood, the white Macy Street bridge survived. On several occasions
Abelardo observed Bard painstakingly inspecting the bridges physical
condition. Watching how seriously Bard took his responsibility, Abelar-
do decided that when he died he wanted his body to be sent to the Bard
Family Mortuary for Jacob Bard to tend to his remains.
IT WAS RAINY SEASON when Abelardo looked out over his fields,
large parcels of land that stretched along the river banks. A chill from a
cool breeze surrounded him, chased him into the house. Toypurina pre-
pared the evening meal while Sol stacked wood next to the fireplace and
Otchoo latched the window shutters.
It is going to be a bad one. Abelardo smiled at his sons and
enjoyed the warmth of the large kitchen.
The family spent most of its time here near the fire, sitting on the
benches around the kitchen table, discussing the river, crops, barges, the
bridge and the new neighbors who had purchased property, built hous-
es and erected a stone wall facing the river shore. None of the families
had asked Abelardo about flooding. In fact, several of the new landown-
ers seemed to intentionally avoid Don Abelardo Ros. Abelardo was cer-
tainly not going to seek them out and offer knowledge unsolicited.
Esa pobre gente va a perder todo. Toypurina warned about the
foolhardiness of the new neighbors and placed on the table tortillas de
maz, nopales, camarones, frijoles, tomates and a pot of cebollas and
hongos stirred with chile.
Es cosa de ellos. Its their business, answered Abelardo as he sat
down at the table and motioned for his sons to join him. Toypurina sat
down after making sure she had brought everything the family needed.
While Toypurina served dinner to her family, massive clouds carried by
high winds rolled inland from the Pacific. The family ate quietly, listen-
ing to the building storm. Outside, the increasingly powerful wind sur-
rounded the house, knocking down shovels and rakes, flinging empty
buckets against the tool shed. Toypurina and Abelardo stood up and went
to the door. Toypurina pushed apart the curtains over the small window
in the front door. They studied the river. The wind howled and carried off
any object that was not tied down. In the boys room a window boomed
open and hung on one hinge. Right away Sol went for a hammer and
nails to nail down the shutter, when he heard his father call out.
Otra vez, la puerta del corral! With wire, hammer and heavy-
duty pliers, Abelardo went out in the wind and rain to attach once again
the corral door to the heavy unstable fence post.
Ten cuidado, Abelardo! Toypurina called for him to be careful.
After about twenty minutes Abelardo knocked. Toypurina carefully
released the latch and suddenly the wind flung Abelardo back into the
house. Toypurina and Sol helped Abelardo push the door against the
wind and finally closed it. Sol placed a cross beam, securing the door
from any strong gusts of wind. Otchoo tossed several logs into the fire-
place. The fires roar was steadily drowned out by large drops of rain that
fell on the roof. Through cracks in the walls, the wind snaked its way into
the house. The rain drops grew louder and heavier. Millions of drops
pummeled the house like heavy stones. Toypurina prayed that the roof
would hold up. All eyes were on the ceiling as the roar grew angrier.
Granizo! Granizo!
Hail began to cover the ground as far as Abelardo could see. Fifteen
minutes later, a foot or more of a deep sheet of ice balls had destroyed
all that Abelardo had planted. His thoughts turned to the docks and the
barges. Thunder had broken the roar of the hail. Curtains of rain slashed
16 Alejandro Morales
at the house. The storm continued into the late evening and early hours
of the morning. Nobody slept, watching the lightning flashes through
the cracks between the slats of the wood shutters, listening to the weight
of the water that poured onto the earth. Abelardo waited for a knock on
the door. The family could already hear the river lapping high beyond
its shores. In storms like thisit never failedsomeone would come
screaming for help.
Several heavy thumps slammed against the entrance door and a
more violent crash came some time later. Sol cautiously opened the
shutter.
The corral is gone, Pap. The barn is tilting. The livestock is out!
Djalos, mejor sueltos por si se cae el mesn all se quedan; its
all right, the animals are safer running free.
The Ros family gathered heavy furniture under the sturdiest door-
way. Abelardo was confident this was the safest part of the house. The
doorway would withstand the wind; it would save the family. He was
sure the house would stand firm. The house was constructed on top of a
massive piece of solid bedrock that he had discovered one day by dig-
ging into the soil. Once he had located solid rock, where he marked cen-
ter point, he then dug holes every twenty-five feet until he hit rock
again. He repeated this digging for about two-hundred feet, excavating
to the north, south, east and west until he staked out a pad of solid rock
on top of which he built his house, which was the highest point on his
property. Abelardo was aware the river would flood his fields, but his
house and his family would be safe. Outside the wind grew stronger,
coming in loud heavy gusts laden with shattered man-made and natural
objects, accompanied by water smashing against the house. It seemed
as if it was raining sideways, horizontal to the earth. A terrible crash,
like thunder, a kind of cry invaded the house.
El puente! I bet its the bridge!
Sure enough, it was the Macy Street bridge floating downriver.
Abelardo! A scream neared the house. Abelardo! Help us! Abe-
lardo Ros!
Abelardo opened the door for a tall, slim, rain-soaked man. In the
middle of the Ros living room, he stood shivering as he gratefully
accepted a cup of hot tea from Toypurina. Sol covered the mans shoul-
ders with a long black heavy raincoat.
I am your neighbor, Mitchel Plummer. Im here in desperate need
of your help. Please, sir!
River of Angels 17
Plummer went to the door and offered to return the raincoat to Sol.
No, take it! The man shoved the raincoat back into Sols hands.
I dont want nothin from you! Just your help!
Abelardo, Sol and Otchoo prepared to go with Plummer. As they
made their way outside, Plummer was immediately drenched. Abelardo
pushed him back under the small front porch.
Put the raincoat on, Seor Plummer.
Plummer stared out over the rain-drenched fields; for an instant he
looked into the eyes of the men who stood by him. Plummer meekly put
the raincoat on and led the way to his small ranch. Plummer was one of
those neighbors who had never consulted with Abelardo about where to
build a house near the riverbanks.
No other man knows the river better than Abelardo Ros, he had
been told many times.
Plummer never took the advice but built where he decided the
safest spot on his property was located. Now the river had flooded his
fields and undermined the foundation of his house, which was on the
brink of sinking into the river.
Toypurina had reluctantly helped her sons get ready. They were out-
side; like good sons they would follow their father. No te los lleves,
Abelardo. She hoped that her sons would not follow the two adults.
Abelardo she could not stop, but her sons! He was taking her sons to the
river in this terrible storm.
Abelardo, no te vayas! Los muchachos, Abelardo! No es cosa
de ellos!
Abelardo slowed his walk for an instant but didnt look back at Toy-
purina. He walked behind his two boys, heading to the Ros docks. The
rain started to fall harder and the wind picked up again.
As Abelardo leaned his body against the wind and made his way to
his barges, he wondered why Plummer had refused to seek his advice.
Plummer had built his house on a small jetty, a small peninsula that sat
high above the river. To the newcomers it appeared perfectly safe high
solid ground. Abelardo had seen that peninsula disappear every five
years or so and form up again. It was just one of the rivers deceptive
habits. Now Abelardo had to help Plummer, who otherwise gave the
appearance of being a smart manbut with no common sense. He
should have sought Abelardo to ask him about that beautiful finger of
land. Now his family waited on the roof for Plummer to come with help
or for the river to rip the house from under them and suck them into its
18 Alejandro Morales
fast-moving current. The four men stood on the dock and waved at
Plummers wife and their three children clinging to her dress.
We have to get to them right now! Lets take a barge!
Muy grande! Too big, heavy. We cannot control the barge in this
current.
Abelardo went to a barge that was wide at the center and narrow at
each end. It was shaped like a twenty-foot canoe. He sent Otchoo to get
help at the Indian camp about a quarter of a mile upriver. Abelardo was
sure the Indians would help him. He went often to visit them, to see how
they were. He took meat, vegetables and fruit to them. Now there were
only about ten families living at the camp. Families came and went,
searching for jobs. The Indians had been beaten down by the Spaniards
and the gringos. Now, many lived in utter squalor just outside towns and
cities throughout California.
Otchoo realized there was no time to get a horse. The Indian camp
was not far. He would return with help in thirty minutes or less. Abelar-
do and Sol tossed five long ropes into the barge and secured two ropes
from it to the dock. Luckily, the Plummer house was downriver from the
dock. The plan they devised was to rescue the family by steering the
wooden barge down to the teetering house now on the verge of sinking
into the muddy water. The family would climb into the barge and the
men on the dock would pull them back to shore. Abelardo, Sol and
Plummer pushed away from the dock. Sol started to release the rope. As
the barge moved into the river, the outside current tended to push it back
to the shore, but Abelardo steered it across the river and next to the
house, just below the roof line, but the family would not move. The chil-
dren were petrified and would not leave their mothers side, and Mrs.
Plummer refused to slide down the roof to the barge. The current grew
stronger. The house could slide under at any time and drag the barge
down with it.
Come on, Mary! Slide down! We will catch you! Come on,
woman! Mitchel Plummer screamed at his wife.
The more he screamed, the more immobile she became. The rush-
ing water grew louder and pushed the barge under the roof eaves. The
house seemed to grow. The river lifted it above them. Sol tied a rope
around his waist and hoisted himself up to the roof. He calmly walked
up to Mrs. Plummer, took two children, slid down to the roofs edge and
handed the children one at a time to Abelardo.
Aprate, hijo! Hurry up, my son, I can barely hold on!
River of Angels 19
While Abelardo struggled to control the small barge, Sol cautious-
ly moved up again to the apex of the roof and forced the third child, the
youngest, from Mrs Plummers arms. The baby cried out and reached
for its mother. Sol slid down to the barge and immediately went back
for Mrs. Plummer, who was sobbing, screaming, flailing her hands,
fighting Sol off as he tried to grab her and move her down to the barge.
She slipped and from a sitting position started to kick Sol with both feet.
She wouldnt budge. Finally, Sol moved behind her back and wrapped
his legs around her waist and forced her toward the edge. At that
moment the house sank lower, allowing Plummer to grab his wifes legs
and drag her toward him and into the barge. Suddenly the barge was
above the roof, and Abelardo and the Plummer family watched Sol
quickly float away downriver. The rope stretched to its full length.
Hang on, Sol!
Mitchel Plummer signaled to Otchoo, who stood on the dock with
about fifteen men ready to pull the barge in. The men understood imme-
diately. They pulled, and slowly the strength of the men brought the
barge toward the dock.
Hang on, Sol!
Sol waved back and pulled himself closer to the barge. He stopped
to rest and waved again to let everybody know that he was all right. Sol
began to pull on the rope again. On his wave the house broke away from
its foundation and floated directly toward Sol.
The house is gonna take him! Plummer shouted to Abelardo.
Agrrate, Sol!
The house rose up and floated faster toward Sol. Like a roaring
monster, the house turned on its side, exposing its interior cavities filled
with organs of furniture, glass, blankets, cabinets, tables and chairs,
sucking in all that floated before it, and then it began to break up into
chunks and pieces. Abelardo took an ax and raised it over the rope. The
house, with thousands of sharp points, kept going. Sol was now direct-
ly in its path. As the barge neared the dock it brought Sol closer to the
sinking wooden house. It was sure to swallow Sol, entangle his rope and
take him to the bottom currents where it would hold him down.
Corta la riata! Pap!
To Abelardo, Otchoos command to cut the rope sounded like a mil-
lion voices screaming at him. He glanced once at Otchoo where he and
fifteen Indians pulled frantically, bringing the barge closer. Then he saw
Sol wave once again.
20 Alejandro Morales
Pap, corta la riata Libre se puede salvar! Pap, cut the rope so
he can float away freely!
Cut the rope, Abelardo! Plummer echoed
The house now was between Sol and the barge. Abelardo finally
raised the ax and let it fall on the rope. In an instant the rope and Sol
were gone. A few minutes later, Abelardo and the Plummer family were
on the dock.
Your boy, your boy! Mrs. Plummer, holding her children, point-
ed downriver.
Several Indian women had walked up to help. Mrs. Plummer let out
a terrible wail as she and her children were led away by the Indian
women. By now Otchoo, Plummer and a group of Indians had run
downriver with ropes and small rafts looking for Sol. Abelardo stood
alone watching the river getting wider. Water was at his feet. He could
not move his legs to either go downriver to find Sol or toward the house
to face Toypurina. The water was at his knees. Suddenly, several men
violently forced him out of the rising water and led him home.
AFTER THE ROPE was cut and the river had taken Sol, Otchoo and the
Indians searched up and down on both sides of the river until the dark-
ness and fatigue brought a kind of calm to them. The next day, Otchoo,
neighbors and friendsincluding about one hundred Indians who came
from all directionsmet on the dock to board four barges and navigate
the river to the sea in search of Sol. Abelardo and Toypurina, on horses,
led groups of riders on each side searching the inlets and arroyos. Oth-
ers walked along the rivers edge to search the heaps of bushes and
debris, climbing on top of piles of logs and trees that had been stuck on
the muddy shores. They searched all day but found nothing of Solnot
a sock, a shoe, a shirt, not a shred of clothing. Then Abelardo thanked
everyone who had joined the search party and offered coffee and sweet
bread prepared by neighbors back at the Ros home. The Ros family
concluded that Sol had been taken out to sea.
Otchoos father and mother had hardly slept since the day the Plum-
mer family had lost their house and they had lost Sol. Otchoo saw them
sitting outside taking in the sun. What incredible weather: one day it
rains curtains of water and the next the sun burns your skin. In the
weeks after the flood, Abelardo suddenly had grown older. Otchoo
noticed that his father, his body, had slowed down. Otchoo noticed his
fathers hands, which showed how he had worked for so many years. He
River of Angels 21
really did not know his fathers or his mothers ages. He simply remem-
bered them always working. Toypurina worked taking care of them,
helping in the fields and with the barge business as well. Otchoo real-
ized what was behind his fathers decline. They seemed resigned to
Sols death. When Otchoo walked up to his parents, all three embraced
and cried. There was nothing to be said.
One morning after breakfast, Otchoo gathered extra shovels, picks
and axes, loaded them onto a mule. Otchoo had been doing most of the
repairs himself. His father had difficulty working. His legs were weak
and his hands shook. After the river took Sol, Abelardo was never the
same. Several times the Morretti brothers came to coax him to come to
work with them, but Abelardo only lasted a few hours and then had to
return home. The brothers had gained respect for Abelardo and his sons.
They were impressed with Abelardos knowledge of the river and his
abilities as a builder and engineer, and recognized that a great deal of
Abelardos building skills and knowledge of the river had been passed on
to Otchoo. The Morettis had become good friends with Otchoo and Sol.
Through Cyland they discovered that Abelardoalthough claiming not
to know much about gringo business matterswas a shrewd business
operator who had quietly made deals with the railroad companies and a
few major landowners nearby whose land bordered his property. Otchoo
had learned much from his father. Otchoo understood that he was in line
to inherit the properties and contracts that his father had negotiated.
Abelardo and Toypurina had learned well from the ranchers and business
colonizers who had invaded from the northeast and southeast.
After the collapse of the bridge and the loss of Sol, the Morretti
brothers came to console the family. The Morretti brothers and William
Ross Henry started to make repairs on the docks and barges, assisting
Otchoo. William Ross Henry quickly became discouraged and returned
to work for Cyland. The Morrettis worked a few more days helping
Otchoo with most of the heavy repairs; then, they also returned to
Cylands company. Money was the main reason. They just were not
making enough. Although they received a minimum base salary, they
wanted to make more for the heavy repair work they were doing.
It had been a week or so that Otchoo had worked alone. He was
about to head to the docks when Abelardo pushed open the door. He
walked out with his boots untied, his belt unbuckled, shirt half on, and
he looked somewhat disoriented. Toypurina came out after her husband,
turned him around and sat him down on the porch steps.
22 Alejandro Morales
Pap, hoy descansa. Yo me encargo de todo. Vendrs conmigo
maana. You can come help me tomorrow. Rest today.
Toypurina agreed, as she had done for weeks, and gently held down
Abelardo Ros.
Otchoo went right to work repairing the docks on both sides of the
river. He hooked up the mule and pulled in the small barge but could not
secure the large barge stuck on a mud bank. The river would release it,
but it might also get submerged when the river rose again. He contem-
plated upriver where the bridge had been. Five broken posts sticking out
of the water were what remained. He looked across the river at the
Plummer ranch. The house, the barn, the fences and the crops were
gone. The river had pushed sand and mud against the shore and built up
the beautiful little peninsula again. Grass and flowers would carpet it,
and soon someone else would want to build their house on it.
Otchoo was alone. He thought about his father, his mother and Sol.
The image of Sol was never far away. Every time he faced the river he
remembered and held back tears. He needed help. Los Angeles and the
Eastside had been cut off again, and the only way to cross the river was
on Abelardo Ros barges. Otchoo worked on reinforcing moorings,
gathering ropes, cutting and nailing planks, clearing debris jammed
under the dock and on the shore. From under the dock he pulled out bro-
ken chairs, tables, clothes, a bicycle, pillows and pieces of splintered
wood, logs and about a dozen kerosene lamps from the Macy Street
bridge. He hung six lamps on each dock and thought that maybe, with
the lamps on both sides of the river, he could provide transportation
after dark. Otchoo liked the idea, but it required workers. It was well
beyond midday and the large barge was still stuck. He rowed out and
tied a rope from the barge to the dock post, making sure the rope was
secure at both ends. He did not want to lose the biggest barge. Other
barges sat floating perfectly still on the glassy river.
Otchoo jumped on his mule and headed to the Indian camp. The
Indians lived in terrible conditions and struggled daily to feed their fam-
ilies. If they were lucky, they probably ate twice a day, but usually only
once. Most of their meals came from the river, where they gathered wild
herbs, fish, crayfish, frogs, berries and rabbit. In the foothills the men
hunted deer and wild boar. Few made their clothes as they did in former
times. The clothes they wore were donated and had been washed so
much that they were frayed and torn. When a job was available, usual-
ly they were the last ones considered. Contractors and small businesses
River of Angels 23
had to be desperate to hire an Indian. Otchoo dismounted and stood
before one of the Indian hovels in the camp. He had been here many
times with his father, and every time it seemed worse. He was grateful
that his parents never lived like this, that his mother had somehow found
a way out of this staggering poverty. For a moment he felt deep com-
passion for his parents and his people. It was difficult to imagine how
they would have endured this kind of life. Abelardo had hired two men
from this camp. Otchoo wanted the same men, but they were not pres-
ent. He left word that he wanted to see them.
He crossed the fields that had quickly turned green and rode
through large patches of wild flowers. After a rainfall the sun transforms
the world with greenery and a rainbow of flowers in the hills, the
ravines, the fields and along the river. Almost to his dock, Otchoo saw
two men waiting there. They were the Indians he wanted to hire. He
offered them jobs. They barely smiled.
Los quiero aqu a las cinco de la maana. No tolero tardanza, he
ordered them there at five sharp the next morning.
The men bowed their heads and started back to their huts.
Esperen un momento! Sus nombres? He asked for their names.
El Indio Garras, seor.
Jess.
The chirping of birds, the meadowlarks call, the croaking of frogs
and the wind rustling the high cattails and brush in the rivers ponds and
swamp areas surrounded the three men.
Gracias, seores, I am giving you an advance to buy food for your
families. Go with Don Zeverio and tell him you work for me now. I
dont want to hear that you are buying alcohol with what I pay you. If
you want to work for me, thats the way it must be. Pues, qu dicen?
Aceptado, patrn.
ABOUT THREE WEEKS went by with Otchoo managing the opera-
tions of Ros and Sons and Cyland River Barge Transportation Compa-
ny. The Morretti brothers and William Ross Henry came by the docks
to see how Otchoo was running the barge business all by himself. It was
a busy time for Otchoo, so he allowed Garras and Jess to operate the
large barge. Otchoo had wondered how long these men would last, but
they proved themselves. They showed him that Indians were depend-
able, efficient hard workers. The Morrettis, William and Otchoo gath-
ered under an oak tree. As they watched his barge cross the river, Fran-
co Morretti offered Otchoo an opportunity.
24 Alejandro Morales
Otchoo, you know we can build bridges, and the city council
wants to build two bridges over the river. We want to bid on those con-
tracts. But we need you, your help.
What, from me? Im helping my father now.
We need your father, too.
Your father has been carrying on business with some important
people. He has the trust of bankers and wealthy ranchers. We need him
as a partner to secure a loan to buy material and equipment.
Paolo pointed to the barge slowly making its way across the river.
Look, that barge is full of people because they trust you and your
father.
My father is old. Losing Sol made him sick.
But he can be a partner in our company. He can help us get the
loan to start our construction company. Come on, Otchoo, join us.
No, seor. What about Mr. Cyland? My father has a contract with
him. What is Mr. Cyland going to say?
What can he say? Were forming our own independent company.
We will bid on the contracts. We do not need him! William Ross Henry
spoke emphatically, almost angrily. He was impatient. It was incon-
ceivable to him how Otchoo could even question the offer they were
making him.
This is America! Paolo blurted out.
Everyone except Otchoo laughed.
I think Mr. Cyland thinks he can outbid and outperform us.
Otchoo, join us! What do you say? Talk to your father. Ask him what he
thinks, Franco pleaded.
The large barge slowly approached the dock. Jess guided the barge
in and docked. Great job, Otchoo thought as he waved good-bye to
Franco and Paolo Morretti, and to William Ross Henry.
That night he explained to his parents Francos plan to form a con-
struction company. Abelardo agreed that it was a good idea to get into
bridge building. He smiled at his son, a businessman. He reached for
Toypurinas hand.
Yo firmo para el prstamo. Ill sign the loan papers.
The Ros family, Franco and Paolo Morretti, and William Ross
Henry went to the American National Bank of Los Angeles to establish
a working relationship with their new Sun Construction Company. It
was Toypurina and Abelardos suggestion to name the company after
River of Angels 25
Sol, which means sun in Spanish. However, there was a problem with
the bankers authorizing the loan.
With all due respect, Mr. Ros, your name is difficult. I can assure
you that future clients will have problems with your first and last names.
I cannot pronounce or spell them correctly. I suggest you change them
for business purposes. The bank can request a name change from the
courts. All you have to do is make an official declaration to change your
name, sign it and the bank president, Mr. Monnette, will notarize it, and
then we can all sign as witnesses. Take a few minutes and select some
names. Ill get Agatha, my secretary, to start drafting the declaration.
The men were somewhat resistant but ended up agreeing with the
banks lawyer. It was better to avoid future problems. Future transac-
tions would require all their names, and if people could not spell the
partners names, the documents would have to be redone. Better avoid
wasting time.
What does your name mean, Otchoo?
Its a sacred name. It has to do with trees and the river. Otchoo
looked at his mother. Its a name the elders pronounced when my
mother gave me birth. Its sacred.
Okay, but how about something a little easier that has to do with
nature? the banks lawyer suggested.
Llmate Roble, como el rbol. El roble es un rbol fuerte, hijo.
Abelardo nodded in agreement to his mothers suggestion that he
change his name to Roble.
What does that mean? Paolo asked.
It means oak tree.
How about Oakley? Like the straight-shooting, rough-riding cow-
girl?
The men laughed at William Ross Henrys suggestion.
No, I like it. Its a strong name, the lawyer announced. Mr.
Cyland had a friend named Oakley. He has a big construction company
up in San Francisco, and hes made a lot of money. I think its a good
luck sign: Otchoo Ros, Mr. Oakley Rivers. I think thats it. The lawyer
wrote it down.
Not my last name, por favor! Otchoo went to his parents and
stood by them.
In their eyes, there appeared a sadness. Abelardo and Toypurina
sensed that this unexpected change meant a different life and world for
them and their son. They had listened to the lawyers reasoning. But
26 Alejandro Morales
knowing how things were for Indians and Mexicans, they agreed that
the name change would be a business advantage for Otchoo, perhaps
even a social advantage. Abelardo and Toypurina offered their hand to
the banks lawyer in mutual agreement that their youngest surviving son
change his name to Oakley Rivers.
About the time that Otchoo Ros received his new name, Oakley
Rivers, many people believed that the world was coming to an end. Hor-
rible riots had broken out in Europe that pointed to an unavoidable war.
Russia and Mexico had declared revolution on monarchies and dictator-
ships. Countries poised themselves to invade or defend national borders.
Unheard-of diseases killed thousands, and great plagues lurked to strike
and spread worldwide pandemics killing millions. The large communi-
ties of Europe, Asia, Africa and Latin America migrated from terrible
conditions, searching for better and safer places to live. From Mexico,
people steadily approached the United States/Mexico border. Mexicans
had been present in the northern territories of the North American conti-
nent for thousands of years; it was only natural for Mexicans to return to
their ancestral homelands. The turn of the century started an immense
migration north, an exodus that would last more than one hundred years.
The mayor and the city council members realized that Los Angeles had
grown larger both in area and in population, but the issue was how to
deal with this growth, especially with that of the migrants coming from
outside the state. The rapidly growing Mexican community fell into this
category. More housing, schools, parks, recreation sites and commercial
areas needed to be designed and developed.
Sun Construction Company contracted many jobs, becoming an
important competitor in the construction business. As the company
boomed, the partners brought in business from both the west and east
sides of the Los Angeles River. They decided to consolidate their equip-
ment yards at various sites throughout the city by purchasing two ten-
acre parcels, one on the west and the other on the east side of the river,
directly across from each other. Sun Constructions headquarters was
located at Oakley Rivers residence. Oakley and his parents still lived on
a large parcel by the river, although they had sold an approximately ten-
acre tip of land to the Sante Fe Railroad for a repair and storage yard.
Still, the railroad yard was far away and did not disturb their views of
the river or Los Angeles. For years the city had made attempts to con-
trol the downtown sections of the river by building channels to change
its direction and by piling rocks on the shores where it most often flood-
River of Angels 27
ed. Now the city hired cement companies to construct walls along the
downtown sections most threatened by flood. There were parts of the
river that were crossable for most of the year, but when the rains came,
crossing became unpredictable. However, because of Abelardo Ros,
Sun Construction Company knew where to place its headquarters and
equipment yards.
Oakley Rivers property on the east side of the river housed Sun
Construction headquarters and Abelardo Ros docks and barges. Garras
and Jess continued ferrying travelers back and forth, but the barge busi-
ness had slowed down greatly. Most people came to ask for an excursion
ride up and down the river. Parents brought their children and picnic bas-
kets for a boat outing. When the water permitted, Garras and Jess spent
their days on river excursions. On busy days of pleasure boating they
made enough to cover the increasingly slow business days. Even on slow
days Garras and Jess found work to do on the docks and barges, or on
equipment that needed repair, but all the while they eyed flatbed trucks
carrying loads from one side to the other. The flow of trucks going across
became greater as companies started investing money in their own trans-
portation and distribution systems. The investors bought better trucks
and built small wooden and cement bridges across the river. When the
heavy rains came, history repeated itself again by demolishing the
bridges and carrying their shattered bits and pieces to the ocean. Garras
and Jess understood that the barge business was doomed, but they
maintained the equipment and continued making some runs of agricul-
tural products across the fickle river to West Los Angeles. Oakley Rivers
had changed their lives, and they did not want to stop working for him,
so they started repairing equipment for the Sun Construction Company
at what was now called the Boyle Heights Yard.
Events happened so quickly that change was the only constant that
Oakley could count on. At times Oakley sensed that he could hardly
keep up, but he took on more responsibility, including the daily account-
ing, purchasing, payroll, project budgets, blueprints and business plans.
He also dealt with and signed contracts, made investments and handled
the profit and loss statements and eventually assumed responsibility for
all aspects of company business. He had learned the mathematics from
Abelardo, who had been blessed with a talent for engineering and mak-
ing calculations. But his most consistent and caring teacher was Agatha,
the young woman at the American National Bank of Los Angeles who
had drafted the documents to change his name.
28 Alejandro Morales
Miss Agatha Banac was the youngest of three children. Her father,
Leonard Adam Banac, was the bank lawyer, and her two brothers, also
lawyers, were associates in Banac & Sons, Attorneys-at-Law. Her
fathers law firm specialized in real estate and banking.
The future of California is in land and banking, Leonard Banac
enjoyed repeating the first time Agatha invited Oakley to dine with the
family at their home in exclusive Hyde Park, one of the richest neigh-
borhoods in Los Angeles. The Banac boys were present with their wives
to meet Agathas new beau. She was twenty-eight years old and unwed.
Her brothers were all married with children and were more than willing
to accept Oakley into the family. Oakley, however, was completely
unaware of Agathas intentions. Agatha, it seems, had been strongly
attracted to him from the day she had put a pen in his hand and touched
his fingertips. She watched him, his father and mother, and made it a
point to thank them for their business. After the signing, Agatha walked
them to the door and thanked them again. Oakley did not pay much
attention. One week later he returned to make a deposit, and Agatha
made it her business to intercept him before he got to a teller. It hap-
pened this way every time Oakley entered the bank. Oakley had not
noticed that Agatha had handled every single deposit he made. She was
easy to talk to and began asking questions about keeping track of the
companys deposits and payments. She slowly taught Oakley how to
keep the companys books. By the end of the year, Oakley controlled all
the Sun Construction finances. In the meantime, Franco, Paolo and
William kept bringing in contracts and building houses, barns, aque-
ducts, wells and roads. Oakley handled all the legal and financial nego-
tiations, keeping the company on firm ground. He could account for
every penny coming in and going out.
Before accepting a job, Oakley went on site, calculated material
and labor needs, worked out a budget and presented a bid. No matter the
size of the job, Oakley was there. Agatha suggested that Oakley call
quarterly company meetings to give a financial report to the partners.
Franco, Paolo and William were amazed at Oakleys organization of the
company. They were glad to see that every dollar was accounted for, but
at the last meeting of the year they discovered that they had become
dependent on him for company money. They could not withdraw com-
pany funds independently without his approval.
You have your personal accounts. If you want a loan, the compa-
ny can probably give it to you. But, I have to see if we can do it. If you
River of Angels 29
want a raise, I have to see what I can do. The company has limits. We
are doing very well, but do not force it. Lets work a couple of years at
this rate, start getting bigger jobs and then bid for a bridge. I heard the
city council will approve two more bridges. Theyll start accepting bids
next year. Lets not be greedy, lets be ready. Oakley borrowed this last
thought from Leonard Banacs advice to his children at a family dinner.
Oakley visited his parents at least once a week, making sure to visit
when his mother cooked rabbit stew. Abelardo had always raised ani-
mals to sell. He had rabbits, chickens, geese and hogs. At any given time
he had between 150 to 200 rabbits. When the number of rabbits grew
too quickly, he gave the older rabbits away to the poor residents on the
east side of the river. Its better to eat them before they get too old and
tough, hed explain to his neighbors. Abelardo also had a herd of forty
to fifty goats. Garras and Jess sons worked for old Abelardo, tending
the animals and working the small farm that produced lots of corn,
tomatoes, squash, peppers and several fruits, including peaches, oranges
and melons. Abelardo did well selling his produce and animals to Los
Angeles residents who crossed the river, but rabbits made Abelardo the
most money. People came from far and near for his rabbits, which were
often featured on Los Angeles restaurant menus.
OAKLEY HAD ONE of the companys crews construct an office on his
familys property on the east side of the river. The building was really a
house that Agatha helped him design. Oakley picked a location on the
corner directly diagonal to his parents home about a quarter of a mile
away. The house had a large client-reception area, a meeting room,
accounting office and his personal office. A living area composed of a
large open kitchen, a dining room, a tea and library combination room,
three guest bedrooms, two baths and a large bedroom and bath for him
completed the house. Agatha designed the house looking toward the
future of high-end family housing, which she considered to be houses
with big rooms and many of them. She suggested the old Spanish Cali-
fornia style for the exterior, with adobe walls rather than brick and a red
tile roof. She used brick as an ornamental feature for patios, walkways
and garden areas. Agatha explained to her father that although she had
taught Oakley much about accounting and finance, he still needed guid-
ance on simple things like investing and building his own house. After
the house was completed, she came by weekly for tea.
30 Alejandro Morales
One morning, Oakley drove a company truck up the dusty road to
his parents house and noticed that the front door was wide open. It was
uncharacteristic for Toypurina to leave the door open, what with flies,
insects and dust flying into the house. Oakley looked down to the rab-
bit coops. Two dogs were barking excitedly at something between the
rows of rabbit cages. The dogs had probably cornered a desperate coy-
ote hungry for rabbits. As Oakley approached, he saw his mother being
helped by Jess. Toypurina saw him and quickly ran to her son. Imme-
diately Oakley understood that his father had departed. As he held and
tried to comfort his mother, two Los Angeles police officers walked out
from the rows of cages. One of the officers simply said, Sorry to Oak-
ley and walked to a police car that was parked at the side of the house.
Bard Family Mortuary took care of everything. Abelardo Ros
wake at Calvario Cemetery Chapel in East Los Angeles was attended by
more than a thousand people, many wanting to speak about Abelardo
and how he had helped them. Among neighbors, friends, business
acquaintances were many unknown to Toypurina and Oakley. They had
come from beyond Los Angeles to honor a man who sincerely cared for
people poor and down on their luck. Amazingly, men and women rep-
resenting the many ethnic groups of Los Angeles lined up and patiently
waited for hours to attest their appreciation for a truly altruistic man.
Abelardo Ros helped me get on my feet when I first arrived in Los
Angeles.
El seor Ros me dio dinero para curar a mi hijo.
. . . saved my business.
. . . he saved my family.
Ros me prest el dinero para comprar mi rancho.
For three months he provided rabbits for my restaurant until I
started to show a profit.
After a flood wiped us out, Abelardo and Toypurina took us in, fed
us, clothed us and gave us enough to get started again.
The testimony celebrating Abelardo Ros life could have gone on
for hours, but the chapel official respectfully asked the family to stop
the public accolades because the chapel had to close at midnight to pre-
pare for the funeral in the morning. In attendance was the entire Banac
family. Oakley explained the dilemma to Toypurina, who asked her son
to prevail upon Mr. Banac to explain the situation to the attendees and
offer them an option.
River of Angels 31
Good evening. My name is Leonard Adam Banac. I am speaking
at the behest of the Ros family. Mrs. Ros and her son want to thank
you for attending. They want to thank you for the beautiful, heartfelt
acknowledgment you are giving Mr. Ros. Because the chapel must
close to prepare for the funeral, they are requesting that you write and
sign your comments in the journal provided outside in the garden.
Thank you.
Mr. Banac walked away from the podium and stood watching so
many people still waiting to make a statement. Several chapel employ-
ees directed them to several tables with pens and journals. Each person
carefully wrote comments in English or in Spanish and signed. Those
who could not write were assisted by other attendees.
Are you all right, Father?
Agatha, Im touched by how this man was loved by all these peo-
ple. He probably never knew. He just kept on giving.
TOYPURINA STAYED ON the family ranch, farming and raising rab-
bits. Oakley asked his mother to come and live with him at the office-
house, but she opted to stay near the river in the house Abelardo loved
dearly. Jess and Garras kept working for the family. They helped run
Toypurinas ranch. Sun Construction offered to build them each a house
on the river land, but they politely refused the offer.
Garras and Jess had bought property in East Los Angeles, a fast-
growing area. Many Mexicans who worked in downtown Los Angeles
and in the new satellite cities on the west side of Los Angeles crossed
the river every day back to their new homes in East LA. Both of Oak-
leys workers had purchased large parcels of land in the area called Ma -
ravilla. They went to Oakley and traded his offer of a new house for the
material to build their own homes.
In 1909, the same year that Garras and Jess constructed their
homes, Sun Construction signed a contract negotiated by Banac & Sons
for Sun Construction to build the Main Street bridge, the first of two
new bridges to be constructed over the Los Angeles River. That same
year, without the fanfare of a big wedding, Oakley Rivers and Agatha
Banac were married. The nuptials were celebrated at the Banac resi-
dence with only the immediate families of the bride and groom in atten-
dance. The couple spent their honeymoon at the Hotel Del Coro nado in
San Diego, California.
32 Alejandro Morales
Agatha Banac Rivers had long reddish brown hair, brown eyes, a
sharp nose. A slender athletic woman, she stood an inch and a half taller
than her husband, who was five feet ten inches in height. It did not both-
er Oakley that his wife was taller. At receptions, dinners and formal
occasions, he simply hung on to her, put his arm around her waist and
looked up at her, smiled and entered the many social events they had to
attend as partners in one of Los Angeles largest construction compa-
nies. Wherever they were, they stood out not for their height difference
or physical elegance, but because of the way they cared for one anoth-
er and for the people who surrounded them. Leonard Banac often said
to his friends, Agatha and Oakley have a wonderfully different love.
When Agatha and Oakley were together, they radiated a joy that infect-
ed all who surrounded them.
Their first child was born just under nine months after their mar-
riage. No eyebrows were raisedpeople did not care. They were happy
for the couple and their baby boy. Agatha and Oakley named him Albert
Banac Rivers. In a photograph taken at the groundbreaking ceremony
for the Main Street bridge, Agatha held Albert in her arms as Oakley
stood proudly behind her. When Agatha took Albert to meet Toypurina,
the old grandmother had to sit down to hold her first grandchild. Toy-
purinas cries of happiness filled the rooms of the house and the ears of
everyone present. The child seemed content in his grandmothers arms.
Toypurina rocked the baby for about an hour; then Albert started to cry.
Time to eat. Agatha gently lifted Albert from his grandmothers
bosom.
Ay, Dios mo! Toypurina shouted, still with her arms extended,
proclaiming how handsome her new grandson was. Qu guapo es mi
nio! Va a lastimar tantos corazones pero solamente uno te va enamo-
rar, te va enloquecer.
Oakley walked his mother to the veranda where Abelardo and she
had been accustomed to having their tea. For several years before
Abelardos death, they had employed a Mexican woman, Marta Orrari,
to help them run the house. Marta had worked for many years for an eld-
erly British couple in Los Angeles. First the husband died and, as hap-
pens often, the wife soon followed. After the couple passed away and
the house was brought to order, the childrenwho lived in England
sold the mansion and let Marta go. Marta was overcome by the ungrate-
ful attitude of the children, shocked at being fired. She had practically
grown up in that mansion and had dedicated a good part of her young
River of Angels 33
life to caring for the British couple. When Martas situation was brought
to Toypurinas attention, she sent for her and hired her without an inter-
view. Marta was a blessing to both Abelardo and Toypurina, but with
Marta, who had become accustomed to life in a British household, came
British conventions, and one was tea sharply at four in the afternoon.
Regardless of the weather and whether Abelardo and Toypurina drank
it, Marta served tea and small cakes on the verandas round tea table
punctually at four. Marta, a woman who had invested her life in serving
others, glanced at Albert in his mothers lap. A smile formed on her lips
as she admired the beauty of the baby.
DURING THE MEXICAN Revolution, more than a million Mexicans
crossed into the United States, contracted as far north as Illinois, Ohio
and Minnesota to construct railroads and pick crops. Eventually entire
communities of Mexicans settled down in states from the border to the
Midwest. The border was generally open and unguarded almost until
the Depression. Mexicans paid a crossing and visa fee and walked over
to El Norte. Los Angeles became a favored destination, as the city was
growing in population and expanding in all directions. New arrivals
from Mexico tended to go to downtown Los Angeles around La Placita.
If they did not have relatives or friends waiting for them, they found
friendly people willing to help them get a foothold.
La Placita was the hub of immigrant activity, a space for immi-
grants from different parts of the world to gather. Chinese, Germans,
Italians, Russians, Irish, Indians, Mexicans and African Americans
crisscrossed La Placita and the streets around it to go to work, to return
home, to buy food, to go to church, to visit friends, to celebrate mar-
riage, death, birth and the coming of age. There were restaurants that
prepared foods from a variety of countries. People lived in crowded
conditions, but they generally got along and usually respected each
other and tried to help each other when the need arose.
Mitchel Plummer, after losing everything except his family to the
river, did not rebuild his house on the beautiful but deceptive little
peninsula. He took his family inland to a parcel he bought just northeast
of downtown Los Angeles. Plummer had saved enough to open a hard-
ware shop near La Placita, focusing his business on the immigrants liv-
ing in and near the area. His business did well almost as soon as it
opened. He carried just about every tool needed by city dwellers for
daily life, including nails, saws, oil lamps, candleholders, pliers,
34 Alejandro Morales
brooms, shovels, axes, buckets, fabric, bedding, sewing instruments,
kitchen utensils, canned foods, sugar, salt, flour, paper products, boots,
shoes, clothing, hats, belts and more. Plummers Hardware was located
near a church run by Baptist missionaries who aided the poor and des-
titute in the neighborhood. Local residents gave clothing, blankets, food
and volunteered to cook, wash, iron and distribute food and clothes.
Plummer considered himself lucky to have all his family with him. He
had become a religious man who often brought his family to serve
meals to the poor at the Skid Row Mission Center. On one occasion as
the family was leaving, Mary Plummer took notice of a young man who
walked up to get served. The young man acted strangely, made odd ges-
tures and constantly spoke to himself. It was already late, time for Mary
Plummer and her family to head home. For days the young mans face
kept coming back to her.
I have seen that face before.
Next week you can ask him. Ask him where hes from. There are
so many people in this city now. Hes probably come to the store for
help or to buy something, Mary. Thats where you remember him from.
The following week, the Plummer family went again to serve meals
at the mission and, when they completed their service and started
toward the door, Mary saw the strange young man sitting at a table, eat-
ing slowly. Mary went to one of the missionaries and asked about the
young man.
No, I do not know where he lives exactly, but he periodically
comes to eat here. Hes been around here for several years. He says hes
the sun, stands for hours worshiping the sun. I think hes dim, retarded.
Mary got closer to the young man who worshipped the sun. She
wanted to see his face closer. Although he had a slight beard, Mary
thought she knew him, for sure.
When she returned to where Mitchel waited with the children, she
said, Mitchel, I think that man is Sol.
Plummer immediately went to the old house to look for Toypurina.
After knocking at the front and back doors and calling out her name, he
opened the front door slightly and called out again. Only silence, a
strong silence, and the aroma of fresh bread floating in the house. Plum-
mer went to the barn. There were animals in crates waiting to be picked
up for sale. He felt peculiar walking there unescorted by Toypurina, but
he waited to let her know that maybe her son Sol was alive. She must
River of Angels 35
be nearby, he thought, and decided to wait longer. Next he walked out
to the fields and saw a truck and workers in the corn stalks.
He approached them and, soon, Plummer, Garras and Jess were
driving across the ranch to Oakley Rivers office. They found Agatha
outside talking with several workmen loading sacks of cement onto a
large truck.
Jess rushed over to Agatha. Seora Rivers, dnde est el seor
Rivers?
She waved him over to the office.
The three men found Oakley discussing loudly a housing construc-
tion project with William Ross Henry. The discussion ceased, and Oak-
ley and William Ross Henry stared at them, bewildered.
Seor Rivers, el mister Plummer vio a su hermano Sol.
OAKLEY, AGATHA, PLUMMER, Garras and Jess sat on chairs
arranged in a half circle in front of Sol. Behind him was a dwelling put
together with broken chairs, tables, scraps of sheet metal, wood, sheets
of canvas, steel rods, dried trees, large rocks, truck and automobile
frames and parts, old sinks, toilets, bed springs, sheets of wire fence,
steel pipes, tin cans, bottles, iron stoves, steel barrels, ropes, wire,
sheets, rags woven through every object stacked and shaped into the
walls intermittently covered with plaster and mud.
A withered old Indian woman, known thereabouts as the River
Mother and the owner of the improvised home, began to speak. Muy
bien, empezamos. You are here because you want to know about Sols
rescue. When I first saw him out of the corner of my eye, I thought he
was one of the lizard people. The lizard people come up to save the most
defenseless who are drowning or have drowned in the river and take
them to their home deep underground. Few have seen them, because,
when lizard people are changing from human to lizard or from lizard to
human, their appearance is terrifying.
Encontr a Sol face down, with a rope tied to his waist, half buried
by pieces of wood, broken plates, furniture, clothes like I often find after
a sudden storm. I moved closer and saw that the vague shape was of
flesh and bone. A child of the river brought to me by the lizard people
and the kindness of the river. I cleaned his face and tried to wake him,
but no response came. I thought his soul had been ripped out of him, but
he still breathed. After a while I slapped him gently and licked his face,
neck, shoulders, arms, chest, stomach and legs. His body was between
36 Alejandro Morales
a boys and a mans, and as I stroked, blood rushed into him. He pushed
my hands away and opened his eyes. The boy took several deep breaths.
I knew then that I had to move him before the river rose. With all my
strength I took hold of his wrists and dragged him away from the rivers
edge. I rested for a moment, then slipped my arms under his, and with
one last great effort I managed to pull him to the center of dry high grass
in the middle of several oak trees big enough to protect him from beasts
and men. I gathered dry leaves, soft brush and grass for his bed. That
night I brought him clothes, water and chicken soup with rice. He ate so
fast that I held his hands to stop him from gorging himself. He finished
eating, sat staring at the river and then fell asleep. I watched over him
all night in case he awoke afraid. I protected him from the animals that
hunt at night following the rivers edge. In the morning I fed him pas-
try, fruit and milk. He gestured that he wanted to leave, but I calmed him
down and made him stay a little longer. He seemed to understand but
could not speak any words. When the sun set he followed me, dragging
himself on the ground. I gestured for him to stand, and with great diffi-
culty he walked. It was as if he had to learn to walk again. Step by step,
with lots of patience, we made it to the house.
Cuando lo llev a la casa Sol could not speak or walk. He was like
a newborn baby. He didnt have the words for the common objects that
surrounded him, or the names of foods, animals and clothes. At day-
break he waited for the sun to appear, and when he saw its first light he
became overjoyed, and reaching up to the sky he yelled, Sol. I realized
then that Sol was his name. When I called him Sol, he was so happy that
he gave me a great hug and whirled me around. I had to use all my
strength to disentangle myself from that strong boy.
Poco a poco he learned how to speak and walk. Sol liked to drag
himself on the floor like a lizard. He had arms like tree trunks, hands like
bear claws and fingers like iron bolts. Sol learned to go to the outhouse
and clean himself with paper. Those who dealt with him eye to eye
understood that Sol was not complete. You should have him examined,
people advised. Sol was troubled, but he was healthy. He grew stronger
and worked like a man. He was troubled but not sick physically.
Some people said Sol was retarded and that I should take him to a
curandero. I took him to Mr. Manquillos, a very wise healer who spe-
cializes in roots and plants to cure ailments of the brain, infections,
growths and even craziness. Mr. Manquillos asked Sol to lie face down
on the floor and then to get up quickly. He did this exercise several
River of Angels 37
times. Mr. Manquillos stopped Sol and declared that he knew what ailed
him. The wise old man told Sol that he sensed the terror of the water and
that he saw who had saved him from drowning in the river. He prepared
an infusion with ingredients from nature, only known to him, that he
had Sol drink immediately.
As Sol was drinking the potion, Mr. Manquillos explained that the
lizard people had saved Sol at the exact moment of drowning. They
saved his life, his soul, but they could not separate him from the terror
that caused the loss of oxygen to his brain, and this had damaged his
sight and perception. In the lizard peoples underground city, Sol
learned to live like a reptile and breathe like an amphibian, to live with
less oxygen. The lizard people returned Sol to our world, breathing and
seeing the world with lizard and human perception through two worlds,
times and spaces. He will never be free from this condition. Thats Sols
don, a gift he now possesses. At that moment Mr. Manquillos sunk his
fingers in a jar and smeared Sols mouth with black mud, indicating that
the consultation had ended.
Sol es inteligente and possesses a special gift that he is learning to
use. He is a good student and enjoys the lessons I give him. But I think
he learns more from the river than from me. He knows the river inti-
mately. Natures creatures are not afraid of him. They approach him as
if he is like them or a part of them. He walks up or down the river for
miles or swims when the river is high and always returns with fish,
crabs, a rabbit or with an object the river has offered him. Usually he
places the object into a wall or on the roof of his room or another room
of our house. Sols knowledge and discoveries make the house grow.
Sol continues to learn, showing that he is an intelligent and mature
adult. He still has a little trouble speaking, but he is fast overcoming
that. Here you have him, a grown young man, a true phenomenon of
nature who was saved by the lizard people and reborn in the Ro de la
Porcincula.
SOON AFTER THE meeting with Sols adopted mother, Oakley and
Agatha began bringing Sol home to visit their house. Albert, still a boy,
took a liking to Sol, who was like a docile bear and easily engaged in
playing with young Albert. Toypurina did not comprehend that her old-
est son had been found alive. She was getting way up in years and did
not take care of herself, did not eat three meals a day and did not bathe
or change her clothes. Marta Orrari was still taking care of her, strug-
gling physically with Toypurina to bathe and dress her. Marta was a
38 Alejandro Morales
mountain of patience, preparing meals that Toypurina often would not
eat. What Toypurina never missed was tea at four. She enjoyed the
spiced tea, little cakes and sandwiches that Marta served. Marta made
extra sandwiches, sliced them in four pieces and placed them in front of
Toypurina, who ate them eagerly. Often Toypurina began having con-
versations with her beloved husband. Marta enjoyed listening to Toypu-
rina speak to Abelardo, who stayed with her for a least an hour. Imme-
diately after tea, Toypurina would go back to work in her gardens. All
she enjoyed doing was working. She hardly slept. She would rise from
bed or from where she had fallen asleep the night before, push break-
fast aside, drink a cup of very strong coffee and go out to the fields to
her corn patch, her milpa, or tend the animals grazing in the field by the
rivers edge or the smaller animals, the rabbits in the barn that had to be
protected from coyotes, wolves and mountain lions.
Toypurina did not call anyone by name. Much of the time she
remained silent. When family visited, Toypurina would look at them
and question who they were and why they were in her house. She slow-
ly lost the ability to recognize her loved ones, as well as the capacity to
take care of herself. Martas day job became a twenty-four-hour vigil
over Toypurina. Oakley called on Jess and Garras to stay at Toypuri-
nas house day and night, to take turns watching and caring for her, to
bring their wives and families, to make sure that somebody was with her
constantly. He asked Jess and Garras and their wives in particular to
help Marta feed, dress, bathe and care for Toypurina and also to main-
tain the house and ranch.
The more the family watched their mother, the more ancient she
became. She slowly transformed into one of the old Indian women they
had seen grinding corn meal at the San Gabriel Mission. Toypurinas
Indian ancestry pushed and surfaced on her wrinkled skin, her eyes, her
long grey hair, her wiry arms and handsher hands wrinkled like those
of the thousands of Indians of her tribe who had disappeared. Toypuri-
nas life spirit seeped into the furniture and walls of the house that
Abelardo Ros had built long ago. Toypurinas energy merged into the
building, the crops, the animals, the river. Her body and mind blended
into the world she and her husband had created. She left a bit of her
flesh and liquid on every object she touched. Toypurina was fading into
the earth and the objects that rested on the earth. Oakley watched her
many times walk in random directions for great distances until she was
out of sight, then return later to the house ahead of him. Lately, when
River of Angels 39
his mother ventured along the edge of the river, he could see right
through her. She was becoming like water flowing through the world,
and the world flowed through her.
Oakley, fearful that his children would hear him, whispered to
Agatha just before turning off the bedside lamp to sleep, Agatha, Im
afraid my mother is leaving us.
One morning, Oakley rose earlier than usual and rushed to his par-
ents house. He had an inexplicable sense that he did not want to lose
the ability to see right through his mother, to see the world through her
body. As he neared the house, passing by the fields his father had plant-
ed for years, he saw a woman waving to him from that wonderful porch
that went around the house. The woman seemed to float along as he
came closer to the front yard. Oakley stepped out of the truck, happy
that his mother had waited for him at the entrance to the house where
Sol and he had played and worked with their parents, the house where
they both had observed Abelardo deal with neighbors and friends, the
house that held his parents values, respect and caring for one another,
caring for their sons and for the people who lived nearby and for those
who came to visit. It was the house that taught him how to live, how to
deal with other human beings, the house that taught him how to love,
the house that prepared him to survive out in the world.
He slowly shut the truck door, stood facing the porch, but his moth-
er was no longer there. He looked out over his parents land and down
to the river. He stepped up the stairs to the front door. Jess and his fam-
ily were gathered in the kitchen. Oakley heard the children playing and
laughing. Jess was discussing the days work with his wife, Martina.
Marta listened to the listing of the chores that needed to be done; as
usual, she was about to go to the market for groceries and fresh fruits
and vegetables. These few hours would give her some needed rest from
taking care of Toypurina. Marta had been sleeping in the same room for
fear that Toypurina would suffer a physical attack or get up from bed
and wander out the door and get lost in the river.
Oakley, seized by an emotion to rush in to see his mother, held
back, politely knocked on the door and waited outside.
Jess, mi mam?
Pos, estar en su cuarto, Don Oakley. Jess answered that Toy-
purina was in her room, for a moment standing in Oakleys path. He
sensed a nervousness in the appearance of his patrn and immediately
led him toward the bedrooms.
40 Alejandro Morales
Oakley, Jess and Martina entered each room calling Toypurina,
but there was no response. They searched every space of every room in
Abelardo and Toypurinas housebut to no avail. Oakley felt she had
just been in the room he entered, but each time felt like he was just miss-
ing her. He sensed her energy and kept following it wherever it led him.
Again he called out to her. She could not hear or see him. At last Oak-
ley, Jess and Martina found themselves outside with their eyes fixed
downriver. Oakley understood what Jess and his wife had known intu-
itively, perhaps hours before, but resisted telling him. He had to discov-
er this knowledge by himself. His mother had simply walked away and
disappeared between the spaces she and her loved ones inhabited. She
had gone to the place where the living became only the stories of them-
selves, remembered and retold by the loved ones left behind. For Oak-
ley and for all the people who knew her, Toypurinas disappearance was
traumatic because she had left all of herself behind in each space, in all
the objects in the house and on the property she had possessed. Her dis-
appearance made her even more present in every space she had occu-
pied even for an instant.
Martina explained that Toypurina had flowed away like water pour-
ing into the ocean.
As soon as she said this, the river rose from the flash floods in the
mountains.
Seora Toypurina siempre volver, Don Oakley. She will return.
Just as water keeps us alive, she will always be with us, Don Oakley.
WHILE THE MAIN Street bridge construction continued with few
problems, Oakley and Agatha enjoyed life with their son, Albert. They
relished the office-house they had built, for it offered wide views
beyond the river of Los Angeles and the basin. They delighted in invit-
ing friends to cross the river and lunch or dine with them on the large
porch overlooking the fast-growing city. Los Angeles in 1915 was a
peaceful city. In Mexico the war grew more violent, in Russia bloody
clashes between the Russian tsars troops and the Bolsheviks escalated
and in Europe the signs of war became painfully obvious. The world
seemed headed towards a catastrophic moment, but the world that sur-
rounded the Banac and Rivers families was at peace. Oakley and
Agathas construction company was thriving, with the number of
employees growing to more than one hundred men. While thousands
were slaughtered and displaced during the Mexican Revolution, and the
River of Angels 41
trenches were being dug in Europe, the Banac and the Rivers families
grew wealthy and powerful from the construction business. Companies
like theirs throughout the country had answered the call to make Amer-
ica strong at home and abroad. This idea translated into building a
strong infrastructure and a mighty army. Oakley and the Banacs under-
stood the opportunities this national attitude offered.
Not distracted by his business responsibilities, Oakley made it clear
that his brother was welcome to share his familys home. Each time Sol
came to visit, his stay became longer, until one day he did not return to
the River Mothers home. Oakley, Agatha and Albert never noticed the
exact day when Sol didnt return to the river house. Sol quietly took
over a large tool shed adjacent to their house, where he built his own bed
from old wood and metal pieces he had found along the river. The for-
aging of the river for objects he deemed valuable had become one of his
daily chores. He would bring a few finds to his new house but most-
ly added them to the River Mothers structure. The objects he did bring
to his brothers home he always used for something he was building: a
table, a chair, a box, a lamp fixture or a decorative piece. Oakley never
prevented him from bringing his finds to the house. He, like the rest of
the family, wondered at first what Sol would do with the finds he hap-
pily worked on in the tool shed, but they were repeatedly surprised with
Sols ingenuity.
SOL STARTED TO visit the old Abelardo and Toypurina Ros home-
stead that was occupied by Jess and Martina and Marta. At first he vis-
ited the outside gardens and the land down by the river. But, one day he
asked Jess and Martina for permission to go inside to sit in each of the
rooms of the house.
Martina told him there was no need to ask for permission.
From then on, Sol frequently went to the old Abelardo and Toypuri-
na Ros homestead to walk the rooms and sit for hours on the porch and
observe the river, say good-bye to the setting sun or greet the dawn. Sol
enjoyed the rhythm of the sun and the moon and the stars. At times
Martawho had asked to stay on and wait for Toypurinas returnjoined
him sitting on the porch. For Jess, Martina, the children and Marta, Sols
presence meant they had a man who could fix just about anything in the
house. Having him close meant comfort and peace of mind. In the time
Sol lived with the River Mother, she had taught him a variety of skills that
required using his mind and hands: carpentry, cabinetmaking, forging
42 Alejandro Morales
metal and blowing glass. He learned how to repair almost anything by
using objects that most people would throw away, and he found a new use
for those objects doomed for the trash heap. Sol proved that he was prac-
tical and creative. Marta thought of him as a person always surrounded by
peace. It was peaceful having him at the dinner table.
Often during the day or at night Sol walked barefoot along the river,
sensing the dampness of the soft earth. He walked into the river, feeling
the mud and the wet grass under his feet. He took hours pacing barefoot
at the borders of the Ros land. He looked for the animals in, around and
above the river. The river fauna never seemed to run, swim or fly away
from him. The animals watched for him and accompanied him on his
long walks. Small and large birds flew down to his feet and paused
before him. Early one morning on the trail, he stretched his body toward
the sky and a hawk alighted on his forearm. Sol remained perfectly still,
amazed at the great bird that had come to greet him. He never had any
fear of the animals, and the animals never feared him. Once early in the
morning with the moon illuminating his path, he stopped to rest when
several rabbits scampered across the dirt road. One rabbit crossed slow-
ly, unsteadily, and waited at the edge of the road. Sol wondered what was
wrong and approached the rabbit. He squatted, and the animal hopped
into his arms. Sol got up, walked for a mile or so, petting the rabbit along
the way. He paused for seconds and looked to his right and left and real-
ized that a pack of coyotes accompanied him and the rabbit. He put down
his little friend and watched the rabbit scamper into the brush. The coy-
otes did not move but sat and waited for Sol to start moving along the
trail again. Sols heightened senses proved to him that he was a part of
their world. He never asked how or why he had this relationship with
natures creatures. In a proud way he accepted it. He was happy, content
that he could live near the river and his parents house. He was glad that
Jess, Martina, their children and Marta watched over the house.
Two years almost to the day of Toypurinas disappearance, Jess and
his family abruptly abandoned the house, leaving furniture and clothes
behind. Several neighbors had gone to Oakley to tell him that they had
seen his mother along the river carrying a large green lizard on her shoul-
ders. Another man, who had been fishing, went to Oakley to tell him that
while fishing he had caught six good-sized trout and kept them in a bas-
ket while he continued to fish. After casting his line the man noticed a
splashing in the water in front of him. Someone was throwing rocks into
the river, he thought. Again it happened, and he turned to see Toypurina
River of Angels 43
holding his basket and throwing his fish back into the river. Doa Toy-
purina! he screamed, and stepped back into the river. Toypurina
released the lizard toward him. The reptile swam past him. When the
man looked back at the shore, Toypurina had disappeared, leaving his
basket ripped apart, empty at the edge of the river. He reported that the
hair on the nape of his neck was standing straight and cold.
More people reported seeing Toypurina roaming the riverbanks
near her house. Some women who had been gathering mint, lentils and
mushrooms were positive it was Toypurina because they called to her
and from afar she seemed to get even farther away but still remained
close to them. She stopped in her travels to communicate in the midst
of a womans glance to acknowledge them, to tell them not to be afraid,
that it was she, Toypurina. Sol had on repeated occasions talked about
visiting his two river mothers, one up close and the other from afar. He
told his brother that he usually found Toypurina under the big alcanfor
tree near the family house. As he got closer to her she would move back
or, as he described it, float away from him, never allowing him to get
near, constantly maintaining about a one-hundred-foot distance.
Shes always surrounded by lizards, strong ones, by the alcanfor
tree, Sol would repeat, afraid but interested in talking about his moth-
er. She lives with the lizard people, in her world, their world.
Oakley listened to his brothers strange stories, but what astounded
him the most was Sols greatly improved speech. He was surprised and
happy and slowly became convinced that his brother was very intelli-
gent, that whatever damage he had suffered in the water had been tem-
porary, and that he was fast recovering. Sol was also very clever, far
more astute than people thought.
It was the second tenant who forced Oakley to put his father and
mothers house up for sale. For two or more years, during the building
of the Main Street bridge, rumors and sightings of Toypurina along the
river and around the Ros house and property circulated among Los
Angeles residents. One evening, Oakley was reading the Los Angeles
Times in the kitchen while Agatha played the piano for Albert in the par-
lor. A hard knocking at the front door brought the family activity to a
sudden halt. Everybody listened and the knock came louder with a
familiar voice.
Don Oakley! Es Jess, Don Oakley!
Albert ran to the door. Recognizing the voice, he hoped that Jess
children were with him. He was not disappointed when the whole fam-
44 Alejandro Morales
ily entered the house. Agatha ordered hot chocolate for the children and
coffee for the adults. She sent the children with Albert to the playroom.
She noticed that Jess wife, Martina, was agitated, had been crying,
and fearfully gripped her baby. Agatha reached for the child and slowly
took the baby into her arms and sat down close to Martina. After a while
she stood up and handed the baby back to Martina, who had calmed
down a little. Satisfied with Martinas smile, she poured coffee for
everyone.
Whats going on? Qu les pasa?
Ya no aguantamos la casa. We just cant stay in that house any-
more, seor.
But why, its so pretty and quiet.
You have been doing such a fine job administering the ranch,
Jess.
Thank you, seor, but its Toypurina who does not want us there.
Shes returned home, does things. . . . Were in constant fear!
Martina rocked her baby.
Seora Agatha, it started with a shadow on the wall that you catch
in the corner of your eyethen sounds, voices coming from the walls,
ceilings and under the floors. At first we thought it was the house mov-
ing, but the sounds and the voices became human, pero no se pueden
comprender. We looked outside . . . for animals on the roof, in the
spaces under the house. Maybe it was a bird, a cat, a raccoon, a rat, but
we found nothing. When we looked, the sounds stopped. When we
stopped searching, they returned. Jess took a deep breath and reached
for a cup of coffee.
It is Toypurina trying to let us know she wants her house back.
There are cold spots in the house. You walk into a room, go to the clos-
et, y est fro, muy fro. But the worst is our clothes. Theyre so cold that
we cannot wear them. She just doesnt leave us in peace!
Martina handed the baby to Jess.
In the kitchen I took a pot and she grabs it and doesnt let me use
it until I scream, and then she lets it go. She does this with the spoons,
the forks and knives, with all the kitchen utensils. Yesterday she
knocked over a pot of beans. Soon after she disappeared I told Jess that
Seora Toypurinas spirit is present in all the objects in the house. In the
house she is in everything, everywhere, and she doesnt want to leave
this world!
Martina cried softly, taking the baby back from Jess.
River of Angels 45
What about Marta? Does she feel her, too? Agatha asked in her
tentative Spanish.
No, it seems Seora Toypurina doesnt bother Marta.
How can this be? Cmon, Jess, its just superstition.
No, seor, it cant be. Marta helps us, she calms us down, but still
things happen that only affects us and not her. Last night it was the worst.
The children were in their beds. Martina and I, exhausted in our bed, had
already decided to leave in the morning; then we fell asleep. At about
three the baby wakes us up. She is crying, but she is not in her crib next
to us! We run into every room waking the children. We finally find her on
the porch with the front door wide open. We grab the baby and go back
into the house. Now the children are afraid to sleep in their rooms. I make
a fire and we gather in the living room. Martina and I fight off sleep. The
children finally are sleeping and, soon after, sleep dominates us. At about
four, the baby wakes us up, but this time she is screaming. We find her
on the back porch steps with the back door wide open. Ya basta con esto.
Enough is enough. Martina and the children run out the door. I carry the
baby to the truck. I run back to get our coats, but the coats smell horrible.
I throw them down and run out. In the truck Martina wraps the children
with a blanket. I drive out of the ranch, but the truck shuts down. For no
reason the engine dies. And I realize that its not my truck, but Don
Abelardos! She doesnt want me to take it. Don Oakley, we start to walk
towards your house and here we are at nine in the morning. Im sorry, but
it is impossible to live in that house. We have overstayed our welcome.
Martinas right, your mother has come to reclaim her house. I am sorry
the children are in pajamas, Martina in a nightgown. I grabbed pants and
boots before the smell overtook the house.
Please, I need to borrow the company truck. I will go to Garras
place.
Fine, but tell me: Marta, does she smell the terrible odor?
No, seor, she claims that she doesnt smell anything. She stayed to
give the house a good cleaning, for when we return, the cold and the odor
will be gone. But we dont want to be there anymore, Don Oakley.
Dont worry, Jess. You did the right thing. You can take my
truck.
First, we must find some clothes for the children. Martina can take
some of my clothes. Then you must eat something. The children must
be hungry. Please stay for a while, eat something, por favor.
Gracias, Doa Agatha. I must find a place. Garras will help me.
46 Alejandro Morales
Dont worry, Jess, you will find a place. In the meantime you can
stay right next door in the office apartment. Its big enough for a short
stay, until you get another house, Agatha said and walked off to the
kitchen.
Jess found it difficult to say no to the patrona.
SOL HAD SEEN Jess, Martina and the children walk up to the front
door. He went to the kitchen and grabbed the largest, reddest tomato
from a basket on the counter. For a while he held it, stared at it and then
lifted a salt shaker. Sol liked to sprinkle a little salt after every delicate
bite. He ate the tomato slowly, enjoying every morsel his teeth tore
away from the red fruit. He heard bits of the conversation in the parlor.
What he heard piqued his curiosity. What Martina described, he had
experienced. The River Mother had explained why once again Toypuri-
na had returned to live on her land and in her house. She had warned Sol
not to show fear but to welcome his mother and ask her what she need-
ed to be done. Toypurina had returned because she had left without
completing a task. There was something she had not done and needed
to do before she would be able to rest.
Sol understood Martina and Jess experience as encouragement to
spend more time on his parents property, and after Oakley gave him the
key to the house, he worked as the caretaker. As the caretaker he did
what he had been doing already. Having a key made it official, he
thought. He kept the yard clean, planted a garden and was always pres-
ent when once a week Oakley sent a team of women to clean the house.
The women went through every room dusting, scrubbing, sweeping,
cleaning pillows, plates, lamps, chairs, sofas, beds, sheets. Every place
and object was cleaned carefully. They moved through the house quick-
ly, as if they knew about reports of Toypurina. Only once did one of the
women have a strange experience. Sol was there to intercept his moth-
ers spirit from getting closer to the woman. Still, the woman left imme-
diately, not afraid but happy. Her companions anxiously stayed on to
finish the job. From that day on, Oakley had to pay a high price to con-
vince the ladies to return. They accepted his offer but insisted that Sol
always be present while they were in the house.
Sol maintained the garden with great care. He planted a variety of
roses, azaleas, hydrangeas, lilies, camellias and magnolias; when they
bloomed, people came by just to see the flowers. People came by
River of Angels 47
throughout the day to view Sols magnificent gardens around the house
and to ask what he used to keep the bugs away from his many flowers.
I talk to the bugs and they stay away, Sol answered every time
people asked. Even during periods of infestation, Sols garden thrived
without a harmful insect in sight. There were other animals that lived
around the house, animals that were considered dangerous, but Sol did
not mind. To the astonishment of Oakley and Agatha, he seemed to
encourage the beasts to come and stay in the garden for a while. Nobody
was ever harmed by the animals that lived in or visited Sols gardens.
One of the engineers who worked on the Main Street bridge project
came to see the house while the cleaning ladies were there and asked if
the house was for sale or rent. The women directed him to Sol, who sim-
ply told the engineer to go see Oakley Rivers.
Dusty Star Stendec rented the furnished house for his wife and two
sons. Cathleen Stendec had gone through the house and loved every
room. She requested only that they be allowed their and the childrens
own beds. Oakley consulted with Sol, who agreed to the request. He
told Oakley that he had asked Toypurina, and she had given him a sign
of acceptance. Nonetheless, before the Stendecs moved in, Sol
explained the history of the house and the strange occurrences that some
people had experienced there.
Cathleen responded with a giggle and self-assurance. Mr. Rivers,
we are God-fearing Christians. Gods people dont fear ghosts. They are
angels, messengers from the Almighty.
Without fear, Dusty, Cathleen and children moved into the Ros
house. Throughout the first week, Oakley found himself praying the
way his mother had taught him, asking her to behave and allow the
Stendecs to live peacefully in the house. At first, Mrs. Stendec did not
want the cleaning ladies to come, but after a few weeks she realized that
the house was much bigger than what she had thought upon first seeing
it. Dusty was not sure about Sol always being around. Oakley explained
that the house came with Sol, the permanent caretaker of the ranch. He
did any and all repairs needed.
Just let him know. Whatever the house needs, he will get it done,
Oakley said.
Life started to move along smoothly. Sol had completely and com-
fortably adjusted to living with his brother and family. He enjoyed the
tool shed and Oakleys house, as well as going every day to Toypurinas
ranch. He worked diligently on the upkeep of his mothers garden,
48 Alejandro Morales
house and ranch. He wanted the Stendecs to be satisfied. He often
walked the ranchs entire perimeter, making sure that no animals that
could harm the family went close to the house. Sol protected the Sten-
decs but also the animals, no matter if they crawled, walked or flew. He
wanted to keep the beasts safe from Stendecs guns and rifles.
OAKLEY AND AGATHA saw Sun Construction Company growing
steadily, but the business relations with Franco and Paolo Morretti and
also with William Ross Henry grew tense. Franco and Paolo started to
question why Banac & Sons, Attorneys-at-Law, consulted regularly
with Oakley and Agatha but never went to them for advice. There were
monthly company meetings and any partner could call a meeting at any
time, but the fact that Oakley was close to the Banacs bothered the Mor-
rettis more and more. From the start, William Ross Henry did not like
the Banacs, and the fact that he could not take company money when he
wanted it made him angry. He had his own substantial personal
accounts that accumulated from salary and bonuses, yet he could not
withdraw anything from his share of the company without having to fill
out pages of paperwork and then going through Oakley and the Banacs.
He could only withdraw money from his personal savings, not from
company accounts. The partners complaints came to a head one month
before Sun Construction Company completed the Main Street bridge.
The meeting had been scheduled in the late afternoon to accommo-
date Oakley and Agathas doctors appointment. By three that afternoon
at the Boyle Heights Yard where Sun Construction had its main office,
the Santa Ana winds had calmed down and did not threaten to make the
yard into a dust bowl. The three principalsOakley and Agatha, Fran-
co and Paolo Morretti, and William Ross Henryhad agreed to meet at
four. Franco Morretti had sent a letter to Oakley suggesting that they
should get together to go over several concerns that had arisen. He indi-
cated that none of the partners would bring their legal counselor. Oak-
ley knew that William Ross Henry had consulted with several lawyers
in Los Angeles. Rumors were out that Sun Construction was soon to be
broken up, that several of the partners were dissatisfied with the admin-
istration of the company. Finally the day and the hour had come when
all the rumors would be quieted, when the partners would openly pres-
ent their concerns to one another.
First, William Ross Henry arrived in a new Ford truck. Dressed in
a suit and tie, he carried two briefcases into the Boyle Heights office.
River of Angels 49
The Morrettis drove in separately. Franco arrived from the Main Street
bridge site, and Paolo came in from the San Pedro area, where he was
supervising several road construction crews. Oakley and Agatha
stepped into the office late, both with big grins on their faces. Agatha
hurried into her office, said something to Mrs. Halisite, one of the Sun
Construction secretaries. Mrs. Halisite raised her hands up, touched
Agathas abdomen, cried, laughed and embraced Agatha.
Thats wonderful! Congratulations, dear!
Agatha left the office and entered the small conference room, where
she beamed at the men who had gathered to talk about how construction
projects were advancing or not advancing. The Morrettis stood up when
Agatha entered the room. She sat down next to Oakley, who helped her
with several folders she carried. The Morrettis and William Ross Henry
looked at her sitting erect and smiling.
Agatha, seems that you had a good day, William Ross Henry said
while pulling documents from his briefcase.
Bill, Ive had a wonderful day. Thank you!
There was a pause of discomfort and irritation, brought on only by
the Morrettis and William Ross Henry. Franco shuffled some papers
around. Paolo pushed his chair away from the table and crossed his legs
and arms. William Ross Henry finally threw his documents on the table.
He stared at Oakley and waited for him to say something. Everybody
present knew that William desperately wanted the meeting, that William
was dissatisfied with Oakley and Agatha, that William would be the first
to leave the company.
Oakley placed a clean sheet of white paper on the table. Well, my
friends, you called for this meeting. I am here to listen.
The pause was finally broken by William Ross Henry who, with
tight lips and obvious anger in the tone of his voice, expressed his obser-
vations about the administration. Sure the company is making money.
I dont like the fact that decisions are made without anyone consulting
me, decisions that have to do with the contracts that are made and the
investment of company funds. When I come to the office to see the con-
tracts, the investment documents, I am always turned away with some
explanation that the documents are at Mr. Banacs office being reviewed
by legal counsel. I tell the secretary to call me, but I never get a call.
Frankly, I dont know how much the company is making because I think
that Banac never really tells us. He doesnt even tell you, Oakley.
Maybe she knows. What riles me the most is that I dont have direct and
50 Alejandro Morales
immediate access to company funds, at least my share. I know I have a
personal account, but I want to get to my part of the company funds and
I cant because Banac will not allow it. He instructs Oakley to tell me,
us, to withdraw what we need from our personal accounts. That does not
work for me. I want a full accounting of my share of the company.
William Ross Henry stopped speaking for a moment to retrieve a
document. He ended with a statement expected by his partners. William
Ross Henry did not disappoint. He requested what was expected. After
getting a full accounting of all company finances, I want out of Sun
Construction. I am willing to allow the company to buy me out or Ill
sell my shares to a person on the outside. The last thing I want is to go
to court.
After William Ross Henrys short to-the-point statement, not much
more was said that day by the three principals. They had sensed what
was coming, and each one of them had thought out a position on stay-
ing or leaving the company.
William Ross Henrys position had been clear for about a year. He
had consulted lawyers and had warned the Morrettis, but not until now
did he openly state what bothered him and where he stood on Oakley.
The Morrettis had discussed options among themselves on whether they
should stay, on whether they should act together or independently. Oak-
ley and Agatha had anticipated this moment for almost a year. They
were aware of William Ross Henrys unhappiness long before he had
consulted a lawyer and expressed his dissatisfaction with Agathas
involvement in the accounting and financial dealings of Sun Construc-
tion Company.
Finally on that sunny but windy afternoon, they came to an agree-
ment that Sun Construction would buy William Ross Henrys shares
and give him a generous bonus. The Morretti brothers decided that only
one of them would stay with the company, but that the one who left
could sell his shares to the one who stayed. They were both relatively
happy with the way the company had grown, and they did not want to
abandon what they considered a fast-growing financial asset. They
could not understand why William Ross Henry wanted to sell his share.
Franco, the older of the Morrettis, stayed, while Paolo was to ven-
ture out on his own. As it was, Paolo had already made a change, joining
an up-and-coming construction company that did most of its work in the
San Fernando Valley. The company was Keller Builders Industrial Cor-
poration that at the time had started several street and highway overpass
River of Angels 51
projects. Mr. Ernest Keller, the owner, was more than happy to contract
Paolo due to his engineering and building experience. As young as he
was, he had worked on the older wooden and steel structures that crossed
the river. These expansions for vehicular traffic, railroad and narrow
pedestrian walkways would eventually be replaced, and Paolo could help
with the engineering and oversee the actual construction. Paolo and
Franco Morretti had learned on their own about bridge-building materi-
als that were being used for smaller bridges and flood-control channels
in other parts of the country. The Morrettis possessed a gift for putting
together structures. People who had worked with them pointed out that
they seemed to view the world like photographers, and they sensed the
world in shapes, figures and numbers. They perceived the world with an
inherent geometrical eye. It was not easy to describe their genius, but
Keller immediately recognized Paolos talent and hired him after show-
ing him several architectural and engineering drawings.
Oakley had learned most of the current bridge-building methods,
techniques and latest theories from the Morretti brothers, as well as
from Gerald Fisher and Aikens MacLeash, engineers whom Oakley
hired for Sun Construction. Fisher, a structural engineer and also a geol-
ogist, had graduated from USCs School of Engineering, and
MacLeash, a civil engineer, had received his degree from USC also.
Both young men were thankful to have gotten the job with Sun Con-
struction. Although the building industry offered many jobs, the biggest
companies hired experienced engineers over recent graduates. Oakley
took a chance with the two young graduates for Sun Construction. Oak-
leys love for building over waterways and expanses really came from
his father, Alebardo Ros. As a child, Oakley was taught first and fore-
most to respect the water because it was a constantly changing element,
the source of life that had negotiated its way from a place of cosmic
powers. It was an ever-growing force on earth. It came from the sky and
from beneath the earth, and it sustained the strength of our flesh and
bones. Oakleys father taught that a person must humbly learn how to
approach, to be near, to walk, to swim, to release, to drink, to bathe, to
irrigate, to boil, to capture, to protect and to cross water. At the side of
the river as a boy, Oakley used mud and sand to shape his first struc-
tures. Abelardo had him add twigs, leaves and pieces of wood from the
river. As Oakley became stronger, he learned to use nails, hammer and
wood. He assisted in building small wooden walkways and bridges that
crossed streams and canals that Abelardo built for farmers throughout
52 Alejandro Morales
the area. When Oakley became a young man, he and Sol helped build
wood and rope crossings at narrow flows on the river, and wooden
bridges where the banks were the narrowest and the most stable; how-
ever, in time the river brought down these constructions and floated
them to the sea. Oakley learned about the rivers sand, mud and rocks.
He studied, along with his father, the rivers changing currents and
banks when it was roaring or trickling with water. He was amazed by
his fathers patience, how Abelardo never seemed to be frustrated with
the fickleness of El Ro de Nuestra Seora de Los Angeles de la Por-
cincula. Abelardo had an innate attraction to and understanding of
water and of rivers. Both his sons were born with this quality, and Toy-
purina had often warned her husband that this profitable knowledge was
not only beneficialbut also hazardous.
Gerald and Aikens, both historians of engineering and bridge build-
ing, kept up with the latest innovations in materials, techniques and
machinery for making structural construction easier, faster and more
economical. They enjoyed sitting in the Boyle Heights office at the end
of a productive work day, talking with Oakley and Agatha (with Albert
playing on the floor), listening to the history of bridge engineering or
learning about a new material or machine.
Aikens enjoyed talking about history. During the 1860s the failure
of railroad bridges made of cast iron was reported for a while almost
weekly. At first engineers could not find the cause of the collapse or the
major damage to cast-iron bridges. Finally, two geologists and a structur-
al engineer conducted a series of experiments on cast iron and discovered
that after a relatively short time the tensile strength of the material weak-
ened to the point of cracking and eventually collapsing under heavy
weight, such as a long fully loaded freight train. Soon after, cast iron com-
pletely disappeared from large, heavy construction use. By the end of the
last century, engineers and architects replaced cast iron with steel.
Steel not only changed how we build, but . . . Gerald Fisher picked
up Aikens story as if it had been rehearsed, working with steel meant
hiring highly trained and skilled workers who shaped and welded long
sheets, girders, plates and shafts. Building with reinforced concrete
required workers trained in mixing, pouring, finishing and sculpturing
sections of cement. The workers had to be skilled and talented to carve
detailed designs into the bridges, towers, faades and their long walls. To
make the pre-stressed concrete, workers had to string into the concrete
long steel rods or cables to reinforce the concrete. This could be danger-
River of Angels 53
ous, because at times the rods broke. Most dangerous was when the steel
cables snapped like rubber bands, sending the cables flying and snaking
wildly away from the steel-plate frames. If a cable hit a man it could kill
him instantly. No matter the dangers, the workers kept building. Today I
think our workers feel that theyre constructing art.
Gerald, Aikens and Oakley agreed that their employees felt that
their labor created not only a bridge to cross the river but a work of art,
a beautiful practical structure that could survive, because of the materi-
al and the building methods, for hundreds of years after their deaths.
The masons worked long, hard hours performing heavy, challenging
some would consider superhumanoperations. Many of the men on the
bridge crews hired by Aikens MacLeash were Mexicans who lived in
downtown Los Angeles near Olvera Street, and on the Boyle Heights
side of the river and in East LA. What made building large and small
single-span rigid frame structures the most economical was concrete
that was mixed with hydraulic cement. The key feature of hydraulic
cement was that it set and hardened quickly under water. Without a
plentiful supply of high-quality hydraulic cement, Sun Construction
Company would not have had the economic success it enjoyed, and the
many bridges to span the Los Angeles River could not have been built.
Oakley took Albert by the hand and excused himself from the two
engineers, knowing that his company was ready to take on more bridge
projects. Oakley realized that the need to construct bridges became
more urgent with the mass production of gasoline-engine automobiles.
He was ready with top engineers, the best accountant any company
could have, new materials, equipment, new ideas and designs to create
bigger and better bridges that would last a thousand years.
WITH ONLY THREE principal partnersOakley Rivers, Agatha
Rivers and Franco MorrettiSun Construction continued to be one of
the most sought-out builders in Southern California. Agatha and her
fathers law firm handled the legal contracts and budgets while Franco
and Oakley did the contact and field work. Paolo remained a close
friend to the Rivers and brought a lot of business from Keller Construc-
tion. The owner, Ernest Keller, invited Sun Construction Company to
help on several large road construction and home-building projects in
the San Fernando Valley. The relationship with Kellers company made
Sun Construction a stronger company since it now had access to future
contracts in the San Fernando Valley. Sun Constructions reputation for
54 Alejandro Morales
doing top-quality work was getting known throughout Southern Cali-
fornia and, most importantly, getting the attention of Los Angeles city
planners. It got to the point where Oakley, Franco and their engineers
were called so often to consult on jobs in the San Fernando Valley that
their trips to the valley were becoming too numerous.
We should set up an office out there, Gerald Fisher suggested dur-
ing their monthly meeting.
Not yet. Were not ready, Franco objected.
Lets concentrate on our work in Los Angeles. The city council is
talking about a new bond initiative to build several bridges across the
river. We want to be ready to bid on those contracts, Oakley said, sec-
onding Francos objection.
Outside the Boyle Heights office-house, Albert argued with Dame
Marie, his three-year-old sister. Agatha got up from the table to see why
Dame Marie was crying.
Let Sol deal with them, Agatha, Oakley advised as Dame Marie
protested louder.
She wanted her mother and father, and screamed as Albert tried to
hold his little sister back from entering the meeting room. Dame Marie
crashed the door open, ran to her father and climbed onto his lap.
Oakley raised his hands and declared, Meeting is over, I guess.
The children have other plans for us. Sorry, seores.
By the way, the new bond issue is for at least six bridges. My
father reviewed the proposal and reported on the costs for the council.
Its public knowledge, or soon to be.
Agatha picked up Dame Marie, who waved good-bye to Franco,
Aikens and Gerald, who went out to their trucks. The Rivers family,
along with Sol, accompanied the men and waited until they exited the
Boyle Heights Yard.
On that sunny afternoon the Rivers family went to look at several
home lots in Hancock Park, a new residential community. Agatha took
her fathers advice to buy in the new development. The area was fast
becoming an exclusive residential community in Los Angeles. Agatha
enjoyed her house in Boyle Heights, but she wanted to design her own
homenot a house that was part company office. Now with two beau-
tiful childrenAlbert, soon to be nine, and Dame Marie, a curious and
feisty threeAgatha wanted the best neighborhood and the best schools
in the city. Over Oakleys protest, she had enrolled Albert into the
Thomas Mat Academic Center, which she considered the best private
River of Angels 55
school in the area. Many of Agathas fathers clientsincluding Allen
Hancock, Edward Doheny and Robert Crockersent their children to
this private co-ed elementary school located in the Brentwood hills.
Oakley wanted his son to continue attending the neighborhood public
school, but this issue Agatha refused to reconsider.
The education of our children is the key to their future success,
she insisted. Cost is not the problem. My father is willing to pay the
tuition. Albert is bright! He deserves the very best.
You will probably want to send them far away to an eastern uni-
versity. We didnt have these kids to send them far away from us! Oak-
ley almost yelled.
No, when they are ready to go to the university, they can go where
they want.
What about Dame Marie? Where are you going to send her? Oak-
ley had given in to his wife. It seemed that he always did. He smiled at
the thought.
Dame Marie is scheduled to attend the Marlborough School for
Girls in Hancock Park. That will be her neighborhood school.
They continued driving west on Wilshire Boulevard. Albert and
Dame Marie sat quietly listening to their parents discussion. Agatha did
most of the talking about the advantages of buying property and build-
ing a house in Hancock Park.
Allen Hancock is developing the land, Oakley. His father owned
Rancho La Brea and ran it as a farm. They discovered oil on the prop-
erty, but the wells proved to be shallow. They didnt have much oil at
all; the wells were quickly drained. What they found were tar pits, the
La Brea Tar Pits and those prehistoric animal bones. Oakley, I know you
dont want to move far away from the river, but this is going to be good
for us and especially for our children. Father says the most prominent
families are buying and building homes there. Theyre hiring the best
architects, designing magnificent homes and using the best craftsmen to
construct the houses. They have big kitchens, large living rooms, five or
more bedrooms, usually a nursery and servants quarters. I saw some of
the floor plans at the developers office. The communitys filling up
with wealthy doctors, lawyers, land developers and builders like you,
Oakley. My parents have already bought several lots and my brothers
will probably buy as well. We cant lose out on this opportunity, Oak-
ley. I havent asked for much, but I want a home in Hancock Park.
Please say yes for our family, our kids.
56 Alejandro Morales
Oakley stopped the car at a temporary kiosk. The guard asked for
his name to check if it was on the list of prospective buyers. When they
exited that day, they were on the list of property owners.
The subject of houses was a sensitive issue right about the time
Agatha wanted to purchase land in Hancock Park. Oakleys parents
home, for at least four or five years, had one renter after another and not
one stayed a year. The last renter stayed for only two weeks. It was Toy-
purina, according to Sol, who returned to make life miserable for the
renters. She haunted every room, every object that was in the house. It
happened over and over again: pots and pans rattling, chairs levitating,
babies moved at night, icy freezes in the middle of warm rooms, bed cov-
ers torn off the bed while the renters made love, screams and sighs com-
ing from within the walls, dishes and glasses falling off shelves and
tables. The last renters complained about not being able to get out of
their clothes, then their rooms, then the house. The renters left when the
house finally allowed them to leave. The mother and children went to the
hospital for observation while the father went to see a lawyer but was
told he could not sue because there were no legal grounds to sue ghosts.
Toypurina was often seen in the rooms, at the windows or at the
doors, but not only by the renters. Often people who strolled by the
house saw Toypurina looking out toward the river. Oakley went to the
house to investigate the place where his mother was said to have been,
but he never found anything that indicated her presence. He never saw
her, but he did sense her presence.
Mother, you should rest now. We are all fine. What is it that you
want?
Sol started to put everything in the house back in its original place.
He tried to establish harmony in the house for his mother. It was Sol
whom Toypurina finally allowed to live in and take care of the house. It
was Sol who kept the insects from over-running the house. He discour-
aged the larger beasts, the bears and mountain lions, and the poisonous
snakes, getting them to stay a safe distance from the house. Sol was
finally able to tell Oakley what Toypurina wanted done with the adobe
house that Abelardo Ros had built overlooking the beauty of the Los
Angeles River.
Oakley arrived at his parents at one in the afternoon. Sol had been
there for several days cleaning and arranging the furniture, searching for
its original arrangement in the house. Once he hit on the exact spot for
an object, he immediately sensed he had found where his mother had
River of Angels 57
first placed it. This process would take days before every object would
be returned to where Toypurina wanted it. Oakley had sent a cleaning
service to help Sol. The women who went knew about the sightings and
the strange happenings at the house, but they were not afraid.
Oakley met Sol on the porch where the cleaning ladies had placed
cold water and lemonade. The temperature during all of August had
been unbearably hot. Sol pointed to several boys on a raft floating
across to the other side of the river. During these hot periods many more
people came to the river to cool off. They swam, waded in the cool
water, picnicked on the river banks, fished and watched the families
enjoying the water as it flowed peacefully toward the sea. Sol realized
that for the River Mother the hot season was a bad time. Curious peo-
ple attracted by her unusual house came around to investigate what
appeared to be a strange pile of junk. They peeked into the rooms,
pulled at loose pieces of junk and even tried to open the door, but she
remained silent in hopes that the people would leave. Only a few times
did she have to scream or allow them to see her. Upon hearing or see-
ing her they ran away as fast as their feet took them. Sol continued to
visit the River Mother. He took her food and drink and made sure she
was cared for and protected.
While the women cleaned Toypurinas house, Oakley and his broth-
er sat on the porch and drank the lemonade. Most of the time, they sat
quietly together. Although Sol had improved dramatically from his near
drowning, he still had some difficulty speaking, but on this occasion he
made an extra effort to talk to his brother, even to offer some advice.
Mam remembers, remembers words, remembers Paps words.
Sol enunciated carefully. Paps words, want . . . Do you remember the
words?
What am I going to do with the house? Nobody wants to buy it,
much less rent it. What are we going to do, brother?
Oakley, listen to the words: Mam wants what Pap wants.
Paps words?
Pap told Mam that when they die the house should not belong to
anybody. The house belongs to the river, to the people who live near the
river. Those are the wishes of Mam y Pap.
From the time of the first haunting, Oakley had met with several
state officials in charge of establishing parks and monuments. He also
had met with city administrators who dealt with these matters.
58 Alejandro Morales
One bureaucrat confessed to him, The city is fickle with river land
or, better said, river land is fickle with the city. The city declares a his-
torical landmark or park zone, and the next day declares eminent
domain to develop it or use it to build a bridge over the river. It is not
stable land. The city cant fund this, and the state has no money. We are
still recovering from the war. State administrators only support desig-
nating war memorials.
Oakley had requested that Gerald Fisher and Aikens MacLeash
research the familys river property at the county assessors office to
find out exactly how much land his father and mother owned and to sur-
vey the precise boundaries. In early February of 1918 the engineers
reported to Oakley, who was surprised to hear that his parents held
deeds to much more land than Oakley had realized.
Ever since he was a child, he understood that Abelardo and Toypu-
rina owned twenty acres of riverfront land, but somehow they had accu-
mulated, according to the maps that the engineers had prepared, nearly
one hundred acres. This included fifty acres of riverfront property, and
the rest was land that extended out from this parcel like peninsulas, all
owned legally by the Ros family.
Most of that land is farm, and about ten acres is covered with
warehouses. On the west side you own close to five acres along the river
that the railroad ran tracks through, Aikens MacLeash said with a
smile.
Impossible. My father never bought any more land. Its probably a
recording error! Oakley countered in disbelief.
No, we checked and double checked. We authenticated acreage,
boundaries, rights, copied deeds and met with the county recorder to
corroborate all documents and claims. Its all verifiable and legal, Ger-
ald Fisher said with a proud tone in his voice.
There are many farms, homes, families who have been living on
that land for years. How did my father do this?
He bought land that the neighbors were going to lose. He helped
them, made a deal with them to rescue their property from foreclosure.
He offered them money to pay their mortgage to the bank and, in return,
they signed over the property deed to your father. Your father gave them
two years before requiring a payment. The idea was that once the farm-
ers got on their feet and their farms became profitable, they would pay
the note and get their deed back, but few farmers made it. Many strug-
gled to survive. Eventually they simply paid your dad a minimal month-
River of Angels 59
ly rent to stay on the farm in order to feed their families. Your father
never raised the rent. Some of those people have lived on this land a
long time. Every month they came to pay your father in person. After
your father died, just about all those men stopped paying. They wanted
to see what was going to happen.
It was like leasing land but never being forced to make the month-
ly payment. Anyway, the payment was so small it was like living on the
land rent free! Gerald exclaimed and then laughed, shaking his head in
disbelief.
Where did he get the money?
Your father was a shrewd businessman. He leased land. The prop-
erty on the west side of the river he leased to the railroad for a right-of-
way. Your parents received an initial payment and a monthly payment
that grew accordingly with the profitability of the railroad. The money
is deposited in an account at the Bank of Italy. The account is in his
name, your mothers, Sols and your name. All of you were given full
power of attorney over the account, Aikens explained.
I knew that I was to inherit the land and continue some deals he
had made with the railroad company. But he never gave me details, and
I didnt inquire about them!
You and your parents formed Sun Construction Company on his
credit. You didnt know, but the bank based the credit on his land hold-
ings and assets. Oakley, you were busy with Sun Construction, Sol was
presumed dead, your mother was losing her memory and you didnt ask
the right questions. Until now, that is. As I understand it, your father
hardly ever went to the bank, but the railroad checks kept coming in
every month. Aikens stopped and waited for a comment from his boss.
How do the railroad leases work?
The leases are generous. They are good for twenty years with an
option to renegotiate for another twenty years. The Southern Pacific has
first right of refusal if you decide to sell the land at any time. The lease
has a cost-of-living clause also. Don Abelardo negotiated a great deal. I
dont know how he did it. I think he had some help from somebody in
another bank, Aikens said.
60 Alejandro Morales
We cannot see our reflection
in running water. It is only in
still water that we can see.
Taoist Proverb
PART TWO
I
t was one of the hardest challenges Oakley faced: What to do with his
parents home, the house where he was born and raised. He had asked
Agatha to see if the state would agree to declare the house a California
State Historical Landmark and preserve it as one of the old rancho
estates. Agatha worked out a deal whereby Oakley had to donate five
acres: a plot large enough for parking, an administration office, a gar-
den and picnic grounds. Days before he was to sign the deed over to the
state, he recalled what somebody had suggested he do with his parents
house and property: Establish a park yourself. Maybe it was Agatha,
he thought. There was no need to sell the house or the land. That after-
noon Oakley Rivers called on Jess and Garras, Aikens and Gerald, and
Sol to think about what it would take to plan, construct and maintain
Abelardo and Toypurina Gardens.
Still, Toypurina did not completely let go of the house. She appeared
periodically in the kitchen, the living room and bedrooms, and made
noise in the bathrooms. Toypurina also appeared along the river banks.
Sol claimed to have seen her often. Oakley listened patiently to Sol
describe what he experienced walking with Toypurina along the river. As
he heard his brother talk about their mother as if she were alive, Oakley
began to believe that his brother possessed a gift, a special abilityun
don, as Toypurina called it. The river bank was undergoing rapid change.
Building activity dominated the river as warehouses, housing and more
lines of railroad tracks were constructed. Few people ventured out to the
rivers edge at dusk, and especially not at night. It was at dusk when the
61
sunset brilliantly covered the sky in red and purple hues, when some peo-
ple returned from the river affected by something, a force that had
changed them dramatically. Some who walked out a ways from the river
banks went mad and never recovered; others were only able to speak of
what they had seen and after that could not speak about anything else;
others remained silent, never pronouncing a word again. The stories mul-
tiplied, moving from person to person like a plague. The central legend
that was building among the working-class communities along the river
was about a being that appeared suddenly to people strolling along or
fishing in the river. The apparition revealed itself, out of the sunset, as if
stepping out of a stained-glass window: a young woman dressed in a
multi-colored flower-print dress with a striking white collar, a woman
who smiled and waved in a friendly way. As she neared, observers
declared that little faces peered through the countless flowers on her
dress. Coming closer, people noticed that bodies seemed to cling to her
hair, back and arms. The essences of men, women and children of all
ages collected and proliferated all over her being. The bodies clung to
her, became hordes, multitudes swarming over the womans body. She
would suddenly retreat with a chorus of voices calling, communicating
also with their beckoning hands and desperate eyes. The lady collected
human beings as she moved among people who wandered by the river.
Upon seeing the lady, most froze. Many lost control of their bowels, their
breathing, their emotions, and could not respond with fear or joy to the
apparition. Several fainted and were found days later far from the river;
others wandered back to the streets of Los Angeles, Boyle Heights or
East Los Angeles. Still others woke up from a nightmare or from a pleas-
ant dream. Some saw the lady and returned to live a normal life. The
police came and drove some home, but those who accepted rides could
not remember where they lived. The police held them in jail, assigned
staff to help them remember. Others sobbed and sobbed. A few became
violent and ended up in the psychiatric ward of the downtown jail. The
Los Angeles newspapers ran a few stories on these incidents and in a
humorous way reported that the victims were intoxicated, demented or
had scared themselves to the point of causing self-induced hallucinations
that caused their loss of control of body and mind.
Sol, on the other hand, had gone to the River Mother, who
explained that the figure was Toypurina collecting souls. The souls were
nimas en pena, troubled souls, wanting to communicate with the liv-
ing and move on.
62 Alejandro Morales
Im worried, hijo, about the quantity of souls your mother carries.
She is happy to still be in this world to see and embrace her children.
Sol, take your mothers blessing and tell your brother to enjoy life with
his family in this city of angels.
Sol saw the urgency of the River Mothers words. Understanding
the fear and joy in her voice, he went to his brother immediately and
told him.
Oakley, the River Mother saw Toypurina carrying and dragging a
great human burden along the banks of the river. She had thousands of
human souls attached to her. Toypurina does everything possible to hold
on to all those souls. Those people never have a chance to say good-bye,
to complete any unfinished business or tasks that need to be done. A
spell came upon them without warning. Oakley, you must not go out of
your house anymore. Dont send the children to school. Protect yourself
and your family.
Suddenly, what was on the other side of the world had now come to
Los Angeles. Voices originating on the East Coast screamed; voices
screamed from far-away Europe, from the smelly trenches of battle,
from the people running away from the war; voices screamed when the
killing fever rose in their bodies. The evil had infected the bodies of sol-
diers and then, once it could not be confined to the army bases, it pen-
etrated the flesh, blood and minds of civilians. The disease moved
quickly, faster than doctors had expected, spreading and killing from
east to west. Public health officials warned that it would descend quick-
ly upon the population of Los Angeles. Science was powerless against
the beast. When health authorities isolated the families of the first-
reported victims, neighbors placed food and medicine on the victims
front porches. When the first deaths were announced in the newspapers,
the reports were followed by people seeing hearses collecting bodies
from various houses. City officials hurriedly ordered schools closed,
theaters shut down, and they passed laws forbidding individuals from
spitting on the sidewalk. Nothing worked to slow down the disease and
its rising toll. The war in Europe ended, and people came out to cele-
brate. There were parades to welcome home the soldiers, large public
gatherings where jubilant people danced, hugged, kissed and coughed
on each other, passing on the sickness, the fever, the head and body
ache, the pneumonia, the struggle for breath, and eventually death. The
disease was everywhere. The health department distributed mouth and
River of Angels 63
nose masks, but people failed to use them, convinced that the disease
was unstoppable.
Rumors that the worlds best scientists and epidemiologists could not
control the disease as it spread through the City of Los Angeles and
throughout Southern California. Rumors were translated and repeated in
the poorest and wealthiest neighborhoods. Scientists explained their lim-
ited medical weapons, and in the newspapers doctors described their
futile response. In their helplessness the doctors made panicked and exag-
gerated statements. One doctor declared to the Los Angeles News: If the
epidemic continues its mathematical rate of acceleration, civilization
could easily disappear from the face of the earth within a few weeks.
People believed that sciences failure, like the Great War in Europe,
proved that all the knowledge that human beings had acquired up to the
present had failed to prevent the death of millions. The disease killed
hundreds in the area and nearly four thousand in the country in the
month of October. Fear turned into silent panic in Los Angeles, pushing
people out of the streets and deep into the safety of their homes. Still the
monster entered thousands of houses, sometimes twice or more, to rip
the life away from a loved one. People boarded up windows and placed
large pieces of furniture against doors, hoping to hold off the disease.
Afraid to exchange a word with neighbors and friends, the entire Los
Angeles community lived in deadly fear. First, a reddish pink shadow
brushed the face, giving an appearance of good health; then, a slight
cough started. A strange human bark brought on sobs and horrified the
families. Blood-stained sputum announced the imminence of death.
There was no escape from the clear signs, only hope that the disease
would not strike down other loved ones.
The epidemic was unlike any other. In the morning an individual
man, woman, childno matter what class, race, religion or agecould
be healthy; by nightfall the family prepared for a funeral. For the lucky
ones the influenza brought on the last breaths rapidly; others died slow-
ly, suffocating from the liquid filling their lungs. Eyes and open mouths
flailing in a sea of oxygen were agonizing to watch as influenza infect-
ed children who bobbed desperately for air that did not fit in their lungs.
Their eyes implored a higher power that did not respond. Doctors in
their clinics and hospitals and at patients homes were rendered helpless
to defend against the influenza. At first doctors identified the cause of
the disease, perhaps because of its similar symptoms to tuberculosis, as
64 Alejandro Morales
bacteria. Later it was confirmed that the influenza of 1918 was caused
by a virus.
Oakley insisted that Dr. White come to examine Agatha and the chil-
dren every other day. He insisted, and Dr. White could not refuse. Agatha
declared a self-quarantine and refused to let the two housekeepers return
to their homes. She dressed the housekeepers, the children and herself in
white clothes. Oakley and the doctor were the only ones to enter and
leave the house. Dr. White brought medicine, and Oakley food. They
both purchased rolls of white linen, cotton and woolen materials for the
housekeepers to make clothes, curtains, bedding and tablecloths.
Agatha covered the furniture throughout the house with white linen
and cotton sheets. She was convinced that clean white materials kept
objects sterile and pure. She ordered everyone to bathe daily. She
schooled Albert and Dame Marie at home. All foods and supplies
brought into the house were washed and sterilized. Agatha and Oakley
argued about him going in and out of the house.
Its a terrible epidemic, but the world doesnt stop . . . I still have
to work, Agatha!
For a while Oakley slept in his study. He did not want to upset
Agatha more than she was already. The news from the world outside
came through the door with Oakley. Two of Jess and Martinas
youngest had fallen ill and died. The influenza grabbed Garras and
forced his family to isolate him in the barn. Gerald Fischer lost a sister,
and she had lost two of her children. Agathas brother buried his
youngest daughter. Her father got sick, and he warned her not to take
the chance to visit him. He insisted that no one come to see him; he, too,
separated himself from his family. Daily, there were many wakes and
funerals attended only by the immediate families. Agatha looked out the
window to the street and would see a hearse heading to Calvary Ceme-
tery, to the Russian Cemetery or to the Jewish Cemetery. Those who
could not afford a wake, a funeral, a burial plot in a cemetery buried
their loved ones in their backyards; or they would drive out to the coun-
try or to the river to dig a deep, deep hole, more than six feet deep, to
protect their loved ones from animals, and drop the departed to the bot-
tom and shovel the good earth on top of them. They shoveled enough
dirt to create a large mound, so when it rained the mound would sink
down level to the ground. Crosses, wooden crosses, welded metal cross-
es appeared, in the fields, the forests, along the roads and at the rivers
edge, marking the sites, where flowers and candles were placed by fam-
River of Angels 65
ily members. There were so many burials that authorities simply
ignored where families interred their dead. Thousands were dying,
thousands had died, and thousands more were infected with the disease.
Agatha kept bathing her children, kept dressing them in white. She
prayed continuously, prayed that water and white sheets would keep her
babies clean. At the beginning of November, Oakley came home with
good news.
None of the crew is sick. No more reports of anyone in their fam-
ilies getting sick. Maybe the epidemic is slowing down.
By the end of November the disease began to subside. It seemed
that it was running out of people who were susceptible and weak
enough for infection. People carefully started to emerge from their
houses. Neighbors waved to say hello from a distance. Women washed
and hung clothes on their backyard clotheslines again. The word circu-
lated that tens of thousands had died in the country and that millions had
perished worldwide. Agatha asked Oakley not to sleep in his study, to
return to their bed, to her.
Entering their bedroom, Oakley told his wife that morning,
Agatha, the River Mother has been overwhelmed by the sick looking
to be cured. Sol has been helping her. After doctors had failed them,
they sought out the River Mother for treatment. At the time of the great
sickness, she treated the sick every day from early morning to late at
night. Never resting, never thinking of herself, she kept working. So
many desperate victims came seeking help. The River Mother hardly
ever refused them.
Mothers holding their young daughters hands anxiously walked up
to the River Mothers dwelling. The daughters were afraid to enter the
odd, mysterious structure. The River Mother would send Sol out to
bring wood for the fire as she prepared a long table near the bed where
she treated her patients. The River Mother prayed as she worked,
Manos de carnicero y alma cariosa y benigna. Amn.
Sol made an extra effort to concentrate exactly on her every move,
in hopes of learning the procedures. There were occasions when the girl
and the mother stayed for several days. One girl had arrived by herself
in the early evening. Sol remembered her legs, her dress spotted with
red stains. The girl just ran into the house, into the kitchen where the
River Mother was preparing a rabbit for dinner. Upon seeing her hold
up the skinned rabbit, the girl screamed and ran toward the river, direct-
ly into the shallow water. Sol went out and pulled the girl to shore. The
66 Alejandro Morales
River Mother cut off the girls clothes, bathed her and, with Sol assist-
ing, cleaned her insides and removed what was left of a rabbit that had
grown inside her. Sol stood over the girl. Her long hair came down the
sides of her breasts, wet with perspiration, onto her flaccid stomach,
covered her swollen place, spread down to her thighs. The girl opened
her eyes, took Sols hand. The River Mother covered her with a heavy
blanket.
Sleep, child, sleep. Sol is with you. He will take care of you, nia.
The River Mother took away her tools and dressing, and placed her oint-
ments back into their boxes.
Stay with her until she falls asleep.
Sol never left the girls side. He could not let go of her hand. In the
morning she gently pulled her hand away.
SOL BECAME CARETAKER for the Ros Adobe, a California State
Historical Monument. He did not live in his parents house but instead
converted the garden shed into a small bungalow on the Adobe grounds.
He enjoyed tending to the gardens and doing the house maintenance.
When he was unable to repair something, he turned to his brother, who
brought in a crew to fix the problem. He continued to go down to the
river and to the River Mothers house. As Albert grew he liked to go
with his Uncle Sol to the dwellings of his grandparents and the River
Mother. Albert freely explored both places. Sol taught his nephew what
he knew about both houses and the land they rested on. He considered
the dwellings and properties to possess life and spirit, and told his
nephew stories about a time far off in his memory. Sol gave Albert the
knowledge about the river that he had learned from his river mentor,
advising Albert to respect the rivers idiosyncrasies.
Sol and Albert spent hours scavenging the river and its shores and
floating on one of the old boats left over from Abelardo Ros ferry busi-
ness. The river regaled them with an abundance of objects. They would
take a few to the River Mothers dwelling and add them to the structure.
Albert really enjoyed adding to the ongoing construction of the house
that was livable but never finished and always adapting to the changes
that the environment, the river and life brought. World War I, the Mex-
ican Revolution, the Great Influenza Pandemic, along with the joyful
and painful personal and communal memories, remained in the objects
that made the house.
River of Angels 67
Sol and his precocious nephew would patiently steer a twenty-foot
boat in a concentric pattern, rasquachando, searching the river for what
Sol called treasures left by the lizard people for him to find. Sol con-
sidered any object that the river offered worthy of attention and careful
inspection, because treasure, as Sol explained to Albert, many times
is hidden in the ugly, in the filth, in stained and smelly rags, or in dirty
crumpled papers. In the ugliest you will find a bright star, a brilliant
light, a treasure. In a dark smudged stone there might be a diamond.
Dont be afraid to talk to the ugly objects that float. Speak to them,
because they will listen to you. Sol repeated this advice in stuttered
sounds, phrases, sentences, as if each repetition had a different mean-
ing. Albert listened, learned and remembered. Uncle and nephew
explored the river by boat, on horseback and on foot. They invested
hours searching the deep pools, shallow flats, muddy and sandy shores
that gave up their entangled gifts. But the river vegetation, thick shrubs,
bright flowers, green grasses, ferns and trees did not give up their treas-
ures easily. The river animals were always nearby. Wherever they went
on the river there were wild beasts present. Sol seemed to know how
close they were and warned Albert not to be afraid when a particular
animal was near. It happened that once on a very sharp turn on the river
trail there suddenly darted out of the thick brush a large golden moun-
tain lion with a rabbit in its mouth. It was a fresh killthe rabbits legs
still flailing in spasms. Albert stood no more than ten feet away. The
mountain lion crouched down low, slowly wagged its tail and watched
them. Sol stepped forward five feet from the crouched lion.
Thank you, but were not hungry. Go and eat. Watch over us!
The cat turned once, twice, as if he wanted to stay, and on the third
turn he fixed his gaze on Sol and gently made his way back into the
brush leading up the hill. Albert had never before experienced the
excitement and emotions brought forth by being so close to so large a
predator.
On that same day, while exploring a shallow inlet, they simultane-
ously spotted the carved corner of a wooden box that for an instant
broke the surface and disappeared back into the muddy water. Sol
climbed into the mud to tie ropes around the heavy chest, but uncle and
nephew struggled for four hours to separate the wooden chest from the
sticky, sucking mud. It was the most intricately carved chest they had
ever seen. As they rested from the strenuous chore, they sat staring at
the box, the late afternoon sun quickly drying the finely carved patterns
68 Alejandro Morales
on the wood. Finally, they hoisted it into their boat and crossed the river,
without uttering a word.
When they arrived at the small dock and steps that led up to the Ros
Adobe, they carried the chest to the porch, where they washed and dried
the box, whose wood carvings grew brighter and clearer. As it dried,
shades of red, purple, brown, blue and green rose from the highly pol-
ished wood. Albert brought three clean blankets from Sols cottage. They
carefully wrapped the box. It was like handling a sacred relic. Sol placed
it in a large cardboard box, set it on the back of the pickup, stuffed more
blankets around it and covered the box with a thin sheet of plywood.
Finally, with Alberts help, Sol tied it down. When they arrived at the
Rivers house in Hancock Park, Sol backed the truck into the driveway
and drove to the back entrance. Albert held the kitchen door open while
Sol carried the box in, wrapped in blankets, and placed it on the kitchen
table. They looked at the box and at each other and smiled. Satisfied with
what they had found, they waited for Agatha.
Oakley and Agatha entered the house with their daughter, Dame
Marie, who at ten years of age was well into the educational program at
the Marlborough School for Girls. She had opinions about everything and
was not afraid to express them. For an instant the five stared at the object
wrapped in a blue, red and green square-patterned blanket. Sol peeled the
blanket back and revealed the exquisitely carved sides of the box.
Whats inside? Dame Marie moved closer to the table, her eyes
roaming slowly over the carvings.
Open it, Mom. We brought it for you!
The box is so elegant, so delicately decorated. It must hold some-
thing beautiful inside, Im sure.
As Agatha approached the table, strange thoughts came into her
mind about what might be in the box. A coiled genie waiting to be freed
to grant her three wishes, or a colorful snake waiting to strike, or a map
to buried treasure, or jewelry worth thousands of dollars? Such childlike
ideas, she thought, while placing her hands on the sides of the mysteri-
ous box. Like her daughter, Agatha studied every intricate marking on
the box. Agatha tugged at the perfectly fitted box top, marveling at how
it slipped onto its hand-carved receptor. Finally, she lifted the top one
inch and separated the two parts. Agatha gently placed the top on the
blanket. The family peered in and saw what appeared to be a green vase.
The interior of the box was dry, as if it had sat on the table and had never
touched water. The vase in the box was like a fetus in the womb, lov-
River of Angels 69
ingly protected from the dangers of the outside world. Agatha reached
into the box and slowly extracted the green vase.
I bet its Chinese! Oakley announced.
He, like the others around the table, was taken aback by the bright-
ness and clarity of the flowers, spread wings of the countless white
doves and the white lilies that had been painted on the vase. The doves
traversed in constant flight on the vases green-stained body.
God! Agatha whispered, holding the vase above her eyes. She
carefully set the vase down on the table.
Where did you find it?
In the river.
How many times have I told you not to take Albert to the river? Its
dangerous.
Agatha returned her attention to the vase and calmed down. She
went to her son and held him against her hip. You found it in the river.
It must belong to somebody.
Oakley looked at Sol.
It belongs to us. Albert and I rescued it from the river. It belongs
to our family. The River Mother has always said, Whatever the river
gives me belongs to me and to my family.
Its a magic vase. It makes you speak better, To Sol! Dame Marie
yelled out.
Yes, mija, it does. Its holy magic, Sol confirmed.
When you look at it for so long the doves seem to fly and the white
lilies wave in the wind. Tomorrow we will take it to Mr. Chou, the jew-
eler in Chinatown. Hes an old friend of our parents, Sol. He knows
about these things. Hes an honest man. Lets see what he can tell us.
That night Sol had dinner while sitting next to the vase. And instead
of returning to the Ros Adobe, he sat throughout the night to guard the
box and the vase that had improved his speech.
THE VASE IS a beautiful piece and it is worth thousands of dollars.
How did you come to possess it? Mr. Chou asked Oakley, who turned
to Sol and Albert for a response.
The river brought it to me. The river gave it to me and Albert.
Mr. Chou spun the vase around, bringing it about an inch away
from his left eye, whirled it in his hands, making the doves fly and the
lilies sway gently. He slightly rubbed and raised it to his right eye, went
to a wooden desk covered with small Chinese statues, vases, cups and
70 Alejandro Morales
colored bottles. After pushing broken pieces around and picking up a
magnifying lens, he again carefully studied the vase.
A beautiful vase, Sol. These markings on the box and the top iden-
tify the dynasty and the family who belong to the vase. It is very old,
ancient, and time has guarded it well!
Not too long ago there lived in Chinatown several very prominent
Chinese families. These families owned rich shops nearby. One family
sold vegetables, herbs and teas; the others dealt in fine materials they
gathered from Asia and Europe; and another collected and sold fine
china, ceramics, sculptures, vases and furniture. I cannot tell you exact-
ly what happened, but I will try to honor your mother and father by try-
ing to be as correct as my old mind allows. I tell you this history because
you now possess a vase that belonged to one of these families. Sol is
correct: the river has brought this vase to you, and you must know its
history and its worth. These rich merchants worked with outsiders. They
had many non-Chinese clients. And this made the families businesses
prosper. The families were independent and did not recognize the Tongs
that controlled parts of Chinatown. They did have close ties to the pow-
erful old Tongs in San Francisco. For this reason they were able to sur-
vive here in our community for as long as they did.
It happened, and it always seems to happen to us, that the City of
Los Angeles wanted the building where these families lived and had
their shops. This particular building was located at the edge of China-
town. The city council declared that the street needed to be widened and
that the building was to be condemned. But the situation soon developed
into a very curious problem because the families owned the land but not
the building. Do not ask me how this happened. I will explain this on
another occasion. The owner of the building wanted to sell to the city,
but the families refused to sell the land. With help from the San Fran-
cisco Tongs, the families offered to buy the building, but the amount the
owner wanted was too high. Soon after that, the owner did a strange
thing. He agreed to transfer the buildings deed to the city for much less
than the offer from the Chinese families. The city council gave the fam-
ilies one month to abandon their homes or be taken to jail. There was no
appeal against the citys Declaration of Public Inclusion of the Chinese
property. The city council made no counter financial offer possible but
considered that one month to vacate was more than generous. The fam-
ilies and the Chinatown community waited for the city to make a more
reasonable deadline and make a fair offer for the land. These changes
River of Angels 71
never came. At the end of the twenty-fifth day, the families expected the
police to come at any moment to drag them off to jail.
The elder Mr. Chou paused for a sip of water. He spun the vase in
his hands and from there resumed his story, knowing that his narrative
had captured the attention of those present.
On the twenty-seventh day, early in the morning, the families start-
ed to pack their belongings into two cars and one old pickup truck. At
ten, a car drove up. Three men and a woman got out of the car and wait-
ed in front of the contested property. By eleven, approximately ten nurs-
es wearing pure white uniforms and three doctors in short white smocks
joined the gathering group of public health workers. Then, about twen-
ty police officers surrounded several blocks in Chinatown. The medical
people broke into three teams escorted by five policemen. Each team
had the city councils authority to enter every house and apartment in
the four-block area. The medical teams entered all of the apartments and
houses and examined every man, woman and child, after which several
buses pulled up. The Chinese family members were lined up in front of
a table, where the nurses registered them, and then they were forced to
board the buses. Oakley, you will not believe what they came to do. The
community had no choice: Men, women and children were separated
from their families and forced to go on the buses.
People from outside the quarantined area stopped to see what was
happening. As they stood by watching, they heard the word tuberculosis
being used by the medical teams. Finally, it became clear to the Chinese
that they were targets of a trumped-up medical quarantine. The city
council along with the Los Angeles Health Department had launched a
medical campaign to exterminate us by identifying a contagious disease
in our families. They separated all those people whom they suspected of
having tuberculosis. Some of the victims did have tuberculosis, but most
did not. Two more buses arrived. The first two, fully loaded with Chinese
of all ages, drove to the County General Hospital, to the contagious dis-
ease ward, and from there, in time, they were sent to sanatoriums.
Members of the Chinese families who had been loading their cars
in front of the contested property were trapped within the quarantined
space. The family that specialized in Chinese ceramics, sculptures and
antique furniture had moved their truck about two blocks away to a
gasoline station, where one of the sons with his wife and children filled
the tank. While they paid the gas station attendant, they saw two police
officers walking toward them. Soon a police car slowly approached the
72 Alejandro Morales
gas station. The family immediately got the children in the truck and
drove away, but the police were soon behind them. The family turned
east toward the river, and soon they were speeding, as fast as their old
truck allowed, away from three police cars with sirens blaring, along the
most treacherous road running alongside the Los Angeles River. It was
only about a one-mile stretch of road with one curve that leaned against
a high river-edge embankment about ten feet high above the flowing
river. At that time of the year, they were speeding above the deepest sec-
tion of the river. The water below was about ten to fifteen feet deep.
Your father constantly warned us about that part of the river. There the
river formed a small wide calm lake that hid a strong current below the
surface. Every year the current carved a deep bowl where the water
swirled near the right bank, below the fast-moving truck that day driv-
en by a terrified Chinese father who feared that his family would be
taken away because one of his children proved positive for tuberculosis.
In San Francisco, thousands of Chinese had been herded to hospitals
and sanatoriums. Some stayed for years, and others simply died there.
Most never saw their loved ones again because the families were afraid
to visit them at the sanatorium for fear of being imprisoned there.
This father here in Los Angeles had decided that his family would
not have that fate. The father drove the truck as fast as it possibly could
go. Still the police cars cut the distance. Boxes of clothing, china and
other items flew off the truck. Upon hitting a bump or a pothole, sever-
al more boxes and furniture fell to the road or down the river embank-
ment to the pooled water below. As the pickup reached its fastest speed,
a deep pothole waited. The right front tire smashed into the pothole and
caved under the right fender, causing the truck to roll over and tumble
down into the deepest part of the Los Angeles River. The river was not
merciful and quickly sank the truck, the Chinese family and cases of
fine china, sculptures and vases. The police watched as all but a few
papers and three childrens slippers disappeared below the dark blue-
green water.
This vase, Mr. Rivers, is worth thousands of dollars. It is a true
museum piece.
Oakley, Sol and Albert drove to the spot where the accident had
occurred. It was a perfect place for a bridge. Oakley gazed over to the
east side. Sol smiled at the river, which had always brought him a joy-
ful feeling. Maybe a bridge was what that Chinese family needed that
day. Sol felt that something good might come from this tragic event. He
River of Angels 73
was proud that he and his nephew had found the vase. Albert looked at
the sky and saw doves flying across the river, just like the doves on the
vase. The birds perched on top of an old railroad car on tracks that
crossed through Ros land. He had heard stories that his grandfather
Abelardo had made agreements giving permission to the railroad com-
panies to build tracks on some of the land he owned along the river. Sol
remembered the doves flying on the spinning vase in the old China-
mans hands. Albert remembered how Mr. Chou handed the vase care-
fully and tenderly to his father, as if it were a living thing. The vase pos-
sessed a spirit, like humans and all that exists in nature, Albert thought.
The spirits of that Chinese family who died lived on in the vase and also
in the story that the old Chinaman had shared. The vase had a spirit. It
was a living memorial and must have a special place in their house.
Albert was growing up to be a handsome young man, one who
attracted many girlfriends. Alberts insightful questions and discussions
in class brought several parents to his front door asking Albert to tutor
their children. At first the boy resisted, but with his mothers encour-
agement he began teaching students who needed private lessons in
mathematics, biology, anatomy and general science. The children he
tutored improved their academic standing and earned admission to top
colleges. Soon Albert had gained a reputation of being a superb tutor
and teacher. Albert had one more year at the Thomas Mat Academic
Center and he started to consider which university he would attend.
Most of his companions were writing to eastern schools and to Stan-
ford. Albert planned to apply to all of those schools, and because of
Gerald Fisher and Aikens MacLeash, the engineers who worked for his
fathers company and encouraged him to become an engineer, Albert
decided to apply to the University of California, Berkeley, and also to
the University of Southern California, to study engineering.
WHITE BILLOWING CLOUDS formed over the deserts and rose
above the mountains. Perhaps they would move west, open up and pour
rain into the canyons and arroyos leading down to the Los Angeles
River. The strong fast floods carried treasures to the river where Sol and
Albert rowed out searching for the rivers gifts. Albert felt he should be
able to make decisions for himself and not let his mother tell him what
to do. He enjoyed going with Sol on the river. She was so insistent,
always worrying about him and his sister, Dame Marie. Worrying about
Dame Marie he understood, but his mom didnt have to worry so much
74 Alejandro Morales
about him. Sol had taught him everything about the river, how to read
and respect the river. Sol had been taught by the River Mother, and she
was like the river itself. Agathas advice, Albert understood, was like
water washing him with love.
Albert, bring out five more chairs!
Gosh, how many damn girls did Dame Marie invite?
Mind your business and be careful with the language.
Sol is coming. Were meeting Pap at grandmas house.
Fine, but before you leave, I want you to greet your sisters friends.
Learn to be polite. I want you to always be a gentleman, Albert.
I am!
As Agatha walked into the house down the short hall that led to the
kitchen, she paused and stepped into the dining room, from where she
could see Sol parking his truck in front of the house. Agatha released her
clenched hands, whispered, Ah, damn! She went to the kitchen for two
vases with flowers that the housekeeper had prepared. With vases in her
hands, she was in the dining room once more as Sol entered the foyer.
Dont you dare take him on the river! She gazed directly into
Sols eyes and rushed out to the garden.
The clouds grew whiter and larger over the deserts and the moun-
tains. Somewhere it has to be raining, Albert thought. Ive never seen
the clouds climb that high. He heard cars. The doorbell rang once,
twice, five times! Dame Maries Marlborough School friends were
arriving. Agatha stood at his side as the girls, dressed in summer pastel
dresses, greeted her and stood before him.
Hello, Im Albert Rivers, Dame Maries brother.
The girls smiled, thanked him and moved on to the garden for
punch, except for one, his sisters best friend. Confidently, she offered
her hand.
Hi, Im Louise Prescott Keller. She took his hand and held it for
an instant. She stood framed by the immense white clouds that rose high
into the blue sky.
Hello, Im Albert.
Although Albert remembered as a boy he had grown up with her
and her sisters, now he saw this young woman with a young mans eyes.
She mixed in with her friends, leaving Albert perplexed and alone. From
a short distance she caught his eye again. He looked at her as if they had
known each other in this mature way all along.
River of Angels 75
Albert felt free and happy that he had completed his obligation to
his sister, her friends and, of course, his mother. The clouds were
incredibly soft and porcelain white. His uncle waited in the truck, ready
to go meet Oakley. Albert started to walk out of the garden. The river
water rose like the blood that streamed from his heart to his mind. He
glanced at Louise once more and broke away from watching her. He
jumped into the truck, sure that the rising water would bring good boun-
ty for his family and for the River Mothers house.
Sol and Albert drove to the old adobe on the river. They crossed the
river on the Seventh Street bridge, built around 1923. The bridge prob-
ably would have to be reinforced or rebuilt. Parts of the bridge had
wood construction, and in time the wood would give way to natural
decay. Now, several bridges were under construction, and more were
planned under the Los Angeles development plan approved by the city
council. In the 1920s Los Angeles boomed as more people migrated to
the fast-growing city. Attracted by jobsin agriculture, manufacturing,
construction, oil, the railroad, service and small commercial business
new immigrants from the East, Midwest, South and Europe kept arriv-
ing to avail themselves of the many opportunities in Los Angeles. Albert
monitored this growth; it would mean more to him in the future.
As a child he had heard his parents quietly talk about the companies
that competed with Sun Construction for big jobs and for the bridges
over the Los Angeles River. When Louise formally introduced herself, it
registered for the first time that she was the daughter of his parents
biggest competitor. What came to mind were the many comments made
about the Kellers. His family and Louises uncle, Philip, the founder and
president of Keller Lumber, did not see eye to eye on business issues nor,
perhaps more importantly, about the future of Los Angeles. Mr. Philip
Keller had said that Los Angeles should be a European city, a new Ger-
manic center of wealth and culture in America, and that the city coun-
cil should encourage only Aryan entrepreneurs to settle in the heart of
Los Angeles. Alberts mother had worked with Mr. Philip Keller for sev-
eral years at her fathers bank. She had been privy to job proposals and
budgets for Keller Lumber until her father asked her not to handle any
more business dealings for Keller. Eventually Agathas bank and her
fathers law firm lost the Keller Lumber accounts.
Late at night when they thought their children slept, Oakley and
Agatha discussed rumors that Philip Keller wanted to withdraw his
niece Louise from the Marlborough School because the school director
76 Alejandro Morales
had accepted the Rivers girl, Dame Marie. Philip Keller had argued that
accepting Dame Marie lowered the standards and the prestige of the
school. At a school directors meeting, Keller had said that everybody
knows what Oakley Rivers really is. For a long time Albert had thought
about what Mr. Keller meant, but not until recently, maybe at the time
he shook Louises hand, did he begin to approach the emotional depths
and true implications of her uncles words.
The sun was bright in a deep blue Southern California sky. As on so
many other occasions, Albert had driven with Sol to meet his father at
his grandparents house. But unlike those times, today there were so
many more cars parked around his fathers pickup. Most of them were
police cars. Even more police vehicles were strung along the path to the
River Mothers dwelling. While Sol and Albert walked rapidly toward
the house, two police cars slowly escorted an ambulance up the bumpy
path away from the River Mothers shining home. Three Los Angeles
Police officers followed them.
Damn girls come here and the old witch takes care of their sin.
The police continued talking and moving on as if Albert and Sol did
not exist. At the entrance, police and several women and men argued
with Oakley, who, with crossed arms, stood defiantly next to the River
Mother.
On her own, she came here after trying to take care of the proble-
ma herself. The poor girl hurt herself. It was a miracle that she was able
to walk here. I fixed her. I cured her. Her parents should thank me for
saving her life. Its their fault! They want to blame me, throw me in jail!
Tell them, Otchoo. Ill die, I wont go to jail.
Oakley explained to the police and the parents what the girls situ-
ation was when she had arrived at the River Mothers house. The offi-
cer in charge of the investigationwho had earlier referred to the River
Mother as a witch, an Indian hag and a Mexican healerseemed
to understand what had happened and was siding with the River Moth-
er, but the parents insisted she be arrested. Nevertheless, the officer
refused, waving over a car and leaving the parents standing outside the
entrance to the odd dwelling, where their daughter had been saved.
Finally, the parents started to make their way up to the parking lot at the
Ros Adobe. Sol and Albert went to Oakley, who watched the police car
disappear onto the Los Angeles streets. Albert embraced his father. Sol
entered the dwelling to comfort the River Mother. For the first time
since Albert had known the River Mother, he heard her sob in anguish.
River of Angels 77
She was exhausted from having to carry the passions and pain of the
many young girls and women who came to her seeking a remedy for
their physical problems. She had been able to save most of them
throughout the years. Only two young girls had arrived so badly dam-
aged that she immediately took them to the hospital in order to save
their lives. She really did not know why they had started to come to her.
She was a curandera, a healer, not a midwife, but parents and their chil-
dren saw her as both. Now these parents accused her of being a witch.
The River Mother never denied any of these labels. She assisted people
in need, without claiming any special titles.
IN THE YEARS that followed, Albert graduated from high school and
entered the University of Southern California. The relationship between
Dame Marie and Louise had bonded into a strong sisterhood, and Albert
often saw Louise visiting his sister. The girls went to school together
and were often in each others homes. The relationship grew so strong
that Agatha and Louises mother, Allison, met on several occasions for
lunch to discuss their children, who were healthy young ladies on the
brink of womanhood. The mothers agreed that for Dame Marie and
Louise it was an opportunity to talk with a trusted friend about the phys-
ical changes and feelings they were experiencing, to share the emotions
and likes and dislikes their daughters felt toward other girls. More excit-
ing and dangerous, the mothers believed, were the emotions the girls
now shared about boys on the brink of their manhood and handsome
men whom the girls would come into contact with almost every day
after graduation from Marlborough School. Males of various ages now
took longer looks at their daughters. They raised their eyebrows and
slightly bit their lips as Dame Marie and Louise sauntered by.
Albert noticed the changes in the girls, too. As for Dame Marie,
Albert was happy that she attracted such attention from many fine
young men. But for Louise, Alberts feelings were more complex.
Louise had become a stirring sight in his eyes, mind and heart. There
came a moment when Albert realized that when he gazed at Louises
face he was seeing her anew. One day at his home he took Louises hand
to greet her. Contemplating her face, he felt that his heart had left its
body and that it could not return unless in the presence of Louise. On
that day their touch had been transformed into something overpowering.
Their eyes searched for each other in new and unexpected ways. They
rested their sight on the minute, intense details of the others face,
78 Alejandro Morales
hands, arms, hair. They were aware of every part of the others physical
being, all the while screaming inside for a more intimate touch. Albert
and Louise began to breathe each other in, and every breath kindled a
deep desire for one another. They nevertheless kept to themselves their
physical, silent attraction. Nobody knew; not even their mothers recog-
nized the passion that was growing between their innocent children.
LOS ANGELES WAS a place where dreams could come true. As in
many other cities and towns across the country, Los Angeles workers
labored to make a comfortable place for themselves and their loved ones.
People had to work hard at the best job possible to eat, to rent, buy or
build a place to live. That was what Los Angeles was all about. Chasing
the dream, people came from throughout the United States and the
world. Work and ownership possibilities drove people to the West and, in
particular, to the temperate, dry climate of the Los Angeles area. The
West was always described as a marvelous place where anything was
possible, and Los Angeles was the heart of that promise. In the 1920s,
the entrepreneurs sold Los Angeles as a romantic, magical site where the
energetic and creative person could construct his own Garden of Eden, a
little piece of paradise. Excitedly, the newcomers reached for and
worked toward realizing their dreams. And although society dictated that
everyone know and keep their place, people found each other here and
fell in love. Prejudice, discrimination, racism ran through the Southern
California streets, neighborhoods, towns and counties, but still some
crossed the established social lines, broke the taboos, crossed the cultur-
al and racial borders, and their life struggle became a little tougher.
Nonetheless, the Mexicans, the Japanese, the Chinese, the blacksmany
thousands of peopleendured life at the margins of society.
ERNEST PRESCOTT KELLER would eventually come west to Los
Angeles after he had completed Harvard College, interned at his fathers
bank in Philadelphia and also worked in the familys European import
business. Faithfully, he studied and learned the bank and import busi-
nesses, but daily on his way to work he observed and talked to men and
women who labored at cleaning the streets, to mechanics dismantling
motors, to food and fruit vendors who started their daily journey to the
city at three-thirty in the morning, to shoemakers and furniture dealers,
to butchers and bakers displaying what they had prepared early that
morning. Ernest learned from these men and women who were distant
River of Angels 79
from his social milieu but worthy of his respect and appreciation. His
family and formal education had taught him that he was above the ordi-
nary people who populated the world. Despite the ideas that dominated
his familys thinking, Ernest wanted to work and experience life as an
ordinary merchant. He first went to the neighborhood butcher shop near
his fathers bank to meet the elderly and long-time owner, Mr. Gutting.
Ernest then went to his father.
You do not need to learn to be a butcher, son. Youll never use the
skill, but go ahead, take some time and work with the old man. It wont
hurt to learn from a business at that level of society.
Ernest returned to the old butcher who, upon hearing that Ernest
wanted to work in his shop, laughed.
You want to cut off your fingers, bloody your beautiful suit! I cant
pay you. The shop barely makes enough for my wife and our two boys
and two girls. I run the shop myself.
Without pay, Ernest worked for Mr. Gutting, who at first taught him
about cleanliness by having him scrub the floors, wash trays and clean
the extremely sharp knives. One false move with a knife could slice an
arm or a hand, take off a finger or slice a wrist. The old man demon-
strated how to clean and quarter beef and pork and to trim and prepare
the different cuts of meat for sale. Most important in the butcher busi-
ness was to be friendly and get to know the clients wants and needs,
their weekly schedules, their personalities and when to offer something
new. Ernest enjoyed working directly with the public. He watched the
old butcher extend credit when the customer had had a difficult week.
Ernest sensed that the old man experienced joy in helping people in
need and finding out later how faithful they could become. He also met
those who continually attempted to take advantage but, most of the
time, were caught in their deception. To survive in the butcher business,
Ernest realized, was no easy task. He worked as an apprentice for about
nine months and then returned to the bank in early December. There
were too many family activities that he was obligated to attend. Both
teacher and pupil were sorry that they had to part ways. Years later
Ernest would learn that Mr. Gutting was found ice cold behind his
immaculate showcase. None of his children had taken up the trade. His
daughters married and his sons moved to California. The butcher shop
was boarded up and never reopened.
When Ernest went back to work at the bank, he started, as he had
in the butcher shop, at the bottom. For a few weeks he worked with the
80 Alejandro Morales
bank janitor and then worked as a teller. He finally went back to his job
in the loan department. Ernest studied the diverse aspects of banking.
He wanted to learn all that he could about the profession until, on a crisp
Philadelphia morning, his father stepped unannounced into his office.
He hung his coat over Ernests and lit a cigar.
Your Uncle Philip sent a letter. Hes doing very well in the lumber
businessKeller Lumberin California. His wife died, and he needs
an assistant. He wants a family member to learn the business. You will
be a principal in the company. Hands-on experience! Learning on the
job! Your mother and I think its a promising opportunity. Mr. Jamison
Prescott Keller puffed on his cigar and flicked the ashes on the floor.
Son, youre going west.
The day after Ernest arrived in Los Angeles, his Uncle Philip took
him to Keller Lumber Yard Number Two, located on the Los Angeles
riverfront next to Rivers property. The parcel of land that Philip Keller
had bought was only accessible by a right-of-way that ran on the edge
of the Ros land. Oakley Rivers offered to lease the right-of-way to
Keller on a yearly basis and asked him to pay for the roads mainte-
nance. Philip Keller agreed, thinking that someday he might be able to
buy Rivers property, but even up to the time of the arrival of his
nephew, Ernest, he had never made a bid. The land had been inherited
from Abelardo Ros and now belonged to Oakley Rivers, whom he
heard had finagled a way to receive funding to maintain some of the
property as a kind of state park or landmark. Philip Keller did not under-
stand or like this arrangement. And he did not feel particularly com-
fortable dealing with Oakley Rivers.
Uncle Philip attempted to pass his suspicions and mistrust of Rivers
onto his nephew, Ernest, who did not like the idea of having to depend
on any neighbor for a right-of-way to Keller Lumber. Nonetheless,
Ernest was cordial and waved when he encountered Mr. Oakley Rivers
crossing the bridge to the Boyle Heights site of Sun Construction. Mr.
Rivers seemed friendly enough, always waving, always smiling.
Ernest diligently acquainted himself with his uncles business. In a
few months he evaluated the financial status of Keller Lumber. His
uncles company had great growth potential in supplying lumber to
builders in Los Angeles and Southern California. Ernest became con-
vinced that the company had to branch out into the construction busi-
ness. Ever since his first days in Los Angeles, he saw a fast-growing city
with people and construction companies at the heart of that growth.
River of Angels 81
Uncle Philip encouraged Ernest to pursue whatever possibilities he con-
sidered lucrative. Above all, Uncle Philip wanted his nephew to be
happy. Ernest took up his uncles challenge, and in a year he returned to
Philadelphia, where he secured a loan to establish Keller Construction
Company. A year later, Keller Construction started its first small jobs.
In a short time the Los Angeles-based company grew to be a major con-
struction firm. One of its principal competitors was Oakley Rivers Sun
Construction.
Ernest Prescott Keller returned from Philadelphia with a wife, Alli-
son Fulbert Greenmuth, a girl Ernest had known since childhood. Both
families had always agreed that she and Ernest would marry. Ernest
never questioned this assumption. What he thought most important was
that Allison be a strong, healthy woman who would help in the business
in California and have his children. Allison, on the other hand, was
more than eager to go with the man she had loved since the moment she
understood and used the word love to describe her feelings about him.
When she was with him, she felt bathed in love and knew that it would
have been impossible to live her life without him.
When Ernest took Allison to their new home in Hancock Park, it
was only one short block away and across the street from Oakley and
Agatha Rivers new residence. Being neighbors, their children were
destined to grow up together. Agatha and Allison, at first meeting,
became close friends. Allisons children, Louise and her sisters Emily
and Gloria, became friends with Albert and Dame Marie. Louise, Emily,
Gloria and Dame Marie all attended the Marlborough School for Girls.
As a young boy, Albert had enjoyed hanging around with his sister and
her friends. There were no boys on his block. Nobody at school knew
that he played with the girls. His school friends lived far away and,
although Sol would drive him to visit them, sometimes Albert spent
time with the girls. As Albert grew older his interest centered on going
to the river with Uncle Sol. He went eagerly to visit the River Mother
or to explore the river, and also began to take an interest in automobiles
and the way they worked. Sol taught Albert how to disassemble, down
to the nuts and bolts, and rebuild a car engine. Sols lessons in mechan-
ics encouraged his nephew to seek more information about engineering,
architecture and mathematics. Albert was well ahead of the class when
it came to mathematics. His first year in high school he excelled in
advanced mathematics and science, and his teachers encouraged him to
consider going to medical school, but Albert, since he had started work-
82 Alejandro Morales
ing on motors with Sol, had his heart set on becoming an engineer, like
the men who worked for his father. Oakley, who never had any univer-
sity training, was nevertheless considered a master structural engineer
by his peers in the field. After junior high, Albert seldom associated
with Dame Marie and her friends. Of course, he met his obligations as
a big brother and never said no to his mother when she asked him to
help his sister, and he agreed to tutor one of the Keller girls.
It was the Keller girls mother, Allison Fulbert Greenmuth Keller,
who encouraged, demanded that their girls excel in school. She insisted
to Ernest that their daughters go to the university and be professional
womenan idea that, at first, Ernest simply did not take seriously. Alli-
son never ceased to remind him that she came from a family with a long
line of successful women. Both her parents, born in Philadelphia, had
inherited the wealth of their respective families European import busi-
nesses. One imported French fashions and the other European fabrics.
Allisons grandparents had emigrated from France to the United States
in the late nineteenth century. Allison still had family in Paris where, as
a young girl, she had made frequent visits to her relatives. She spoke
some French but never achieved spoken fluency, although she read
French quite well. She attended the best Philadelphia schools and grad-
uated from Bryn Mawr, the sister school of the University of Pennsyl-
vania, with honors in philosophy. Allison had a sharp mind and an incli-
nation for science, mathematics and logic. She had thought of attending
Harvard Law School about the time when Ernest went to her parents
with his proposal of marriage. To marry Ernest was the only opportuni-
ty that could pull her away from furthering her education. Her parents
had maneuvered well through the Philadelphia social elite, meeting the
Keller family and finally, without directly suggesting it, making
Ernests proposal happen. It was a joyous time for Allisons parents and
family, and for Allison, who had waited for Ernest since the day she
understood she loved him.
Back in Philadelphia, the first time they had been allowed to be
together as an officially engaged couple, Ernest and Allison had gone on
a hike in a nearby forest. There in the stillness and silence of nature they
met each other, and the result was that she became pregnant. Their wed-
ding had been announced by both families, but Ernest asked that the
ceremony and celebration be earlier because he urgently needed to
return to California due to some kind of financial crisis in the company.
The very next day after the wedding, Ernest shipped gifts and hundreds
River of Angels 83
of household items, including some two hundred pieces of fine furniture
that his parents had given the newlyweds. Allisons dowry had been
extremely generous. From that first day when they moved into their new
home in Hancock Park, Alison consistently made it clear that she would
have a voice in their familys future.
Ernest and Allison Kellers married life progressed wonderfully
except for one issue that became a thorn and eventually a painful open
wound in Ernests side. Since Ernests arrival with Allison, his Uncle
Philip continually insisted on involving himself in family affairs. He
started to visit the house more and more, always managing to stay for
dinner. He repeated how proud and excited he was that they were expect-
ing a baby and how wonderful it would be if they had a male child.
Repeatedly, he reminded them that they should have male babies, sons
who would take over the business and continue the Keller lineage. Uncle
Philip repeated his prayer for a male child and took pride in that the child
would add to the white leadership in California. Then, to Uncle Philips
great disappointment, Allisons first child was a girl: Louise. And then a
second child, Emily, was born. And worse, in a couple of years, a third
female child: Gloria. Uncle Philip did not hide his dissatisfaction
Its a damn curse, Ernest! You must keep trying for a boy.
Ernest listened to his uncle, who became more like a father. After
Gloria was born, the doctor advised Allison not to have any more chil-
dren. Her uterus had weakened to the point that she might not be able
to hold the next pregnancy, thereby endangering the fetus and herself.
The doctor recommended exercises to strengthen the uterus, and, on
Ernests insistence, she did the exercises faithfully every day. Behind
Ernests request was Uncle Philip urging his nephew to have a baby boy
to carry on the Keller name. All the while, Ernest and Allisons love-
making became more frequent. She would do whatever she needed to
have a boy for her husband. But the fourth pregnancy never came, and
Uncle Philips manchild never materialized. Yet there was always a
smile on Ernests face as he allowed his wife to do whatever she sug-
gested might bring on a baby boy. Secretly, it bothered him that they
could not conceive a boy, no matter what they tried. In Uncle Philips
eyes it was Allison who had failed to produce a boy. It was Allison and
her ideas about women being equal to men, her claims that, if given a
chance, her daughters could run the family business just as well as
Ernest and Uncle Philip.
84 Alejandro Morales
Uncle Philip gradually pulled away from Allison. Of course he was
polite, but it was clear that her thinking irritated him. He supported his
nieces, yet he warned Ernest that he should not allow Allison to poison
the girls minds with silly nonsense about womens rights and equality;
they would only be hurt and disappointed as a result of such nonsensi-
cal ideas.
Male children were important to continue the Aryan race. Uncle
Philip believed that European Aryans had to continue their bloodlines in
America and particularly in Southern California, where there was so
much potential for pollution from mongrel races. Soon after Ernest
returned from Philadelphia, Uncle Philip had introduced him to the
Aryan Club of Southern California. The members, all of white northern
European stock, wanted to make Los Angeles a new-world Aryan father-
land. Most of the members were wealthy professionals involved in gov-
ernment, banking, publishing, real estate, science and education. They
had attended universities either in the East or in the old country. They
believed in God and were convinced that they had a sacred duty to estab-
lish and maintain Southern California as an Aryan-led community. They
invested time and money towards accomplishing this goal, sponsoring
public educational meetings and featuring cultural programs relating to
northern European countries. The most important business of the socie-
ty was conducted at secret locations, usually on or near the University of
Southern California campus. A prominent eugenicist and member of the
Aryan Club of Southern California was also a professor at the Universi-
ty of Southern California and a close friend of Philip Keller.
At one of the meetings the club president lectured on Aryan supe-
riority and explained how Charles Darwins Theory of Natural Selec-
tion and Herbert Spencers On the Survival of the Fittest were easi-
ly applicable and perceivable in the various racial communities of Los
Angeles. The presidents presentation suggested to Ernest that he was
an Aryan person destined by sacred right to lead in the construction of
Los Angeles. Being constantly told by Uncle Philip and his colleagues
that he and his kind were superior led him to hire Mexicans, Asians,
blacks and Indians, and pay them as little as possible.
According to the expertsDarwinists, university professors, mem-
bers of the Aryan Club of Southern CaliforniaIndians, particularly of
the California tribes, were inherently inferior, prone to drunkenness and
infested with diseases like tuberculosis and syphilis. Syphilis had dev-
astated this race by lowering their mental capacities to the point of mak-
River of Angels 85
ing most unemployable and completely untrustworthy. The Chinese
were an ugly disfigured race, a people who would never look you direct-
ly in the eyealways mysterious, deceiving, treacherous and suspi-
cious. Negroes were consummately lazy, a people who required end-
lessly repeated instructions; they still had a slave mentality, worked only
when beaten and under constant surveillance. Mexicans were half-breed
mongrels who could not follow instructions; they were retarded and
docile enough to work from sunup to sundown or longer, stupid like
donkeys that never complained about the abuse. Every day at the lum-
ber yard and at the construction sites a parade of mixed-race workers,
mostly Mexicans, reported to work. Ernest had to consider the budget,
had to deal with the reality of business economics. The only way he
could make a substantial profit was to employ Mexicans eager to work
for him in dangerous working conditions and for substandard wages.
One morning, at six, standing on the bed of a pickup truck, Ernest
and his foreman observed preparations for the pouring of tons of cement
into a fifteen-foot-deep by ten-foot-wide foundation for a huge water
tank facility on the edge of Griffith Park. The water was to be used to
maintain the park and for a herd of cattle owned by Samuel P. Hunting-
ton, a wealthy railroad entrepreneur. That morning, about twenty-five
men, all Mexicans, worked on the preparation, crane operation and the
pouring of cement into the water tank footings. Ernests foreman
ordered that a five-hundred-pound small scoop shovel be used to test
run the operation several times before using a bigger scoop. Ten men
standing at the edge of the footing guided the crane and scoop to the
point over the pit where the cement would be poured. They held the
scoop in place and signaled the crane operator to open it. Out poured
five hundred pounds of Portland fast-setting cement. The first run was a
complete success, and the second went so well that Ernest ordered the
men to change the scoop shovel to one that carried approximately one
thousand pounds of cement. Only half full! Ernest ordered. The men
filled half the shovel for the first try. While the cement was being poured
into the shovel, two workers got ready to check the lock releases under
the shovel. Once the pouring stopped, Ernest, the foreman and several
young Mexican workers watched as two men squatted under the huge
scoop shovel to check the locks. Ernest could see only one of the men,
while the other man checked the lock on the other side of the scoop. The
man whom Ernest could see signaled that his side was secure. Ernest
immediately ordered the foreman to carry on the pour. While the crane
86 Alejandro Morales
slowly lifted the scoop, shouting broke out from the far side. Ernest did
not understand Spanish. He ignored the workers screams and motioned
to the crane operator to position the fully loaded scoop over the pit. The
scoop turned slightly, following the boss directions. The men below
attempted to wave off the crane operator by yelling to pull the scoop
away and down. Several started to climb onto the crane. The operator
had his eyes fixed on Ernest, who gave the signal to pour. The scoop
turned a little more and opened. At that instant Ernest saw a worker
hanging by his arm, trapped in the latch release lock that was almost
fully opened. The cement started to pour, the workers arm freed as he
screamed, falling to the bottom of the foundation. Five hundred pounds
of fast-drying Portland cement entombed the Mexican worker. The
crane shut down. Silence fell on the site where Ernest Keller had made
a hasty decision, a decision between deadline and life. He saw his work-
er at the last second. There was nothing he could have done; it was over
in seconds. Ernests thoughts came fast. He looked up to see the crane
operator still staring at him, now surrounded by the Mexicans who had
shut down the crane. Ernest looked down into the pit. He took his hat
off and ran his hand through his hair, walked off the scaffolding, got to
his car thinking that the job was simply too difficult for some men.
SOL SUDDENLY SHIVERED, a chill crossed his back. He inhaled and
took in only half a breath, straightened up in the truck seat, quickly
rolled down the window and leaned his head outside just enough to let
the rushing air cool his face. He took a deep breath, relaxed and turned
onto South Grand Avenue and in a minute slowed down and stopped
before the Biltmore Hotel. Sol looked at his sister-in-law, Agatha, and
smiled. He was glad that she hadnt noticed his earlier discomfort. Sol
started to get out, but the valet had already opened the door of the Sun
Construction pickup truck. He had taken the companys newest truck. It
was important to him that Agatha feel comfortable driving up to one of
Los Angeles most elegant hotels. The Biltmore had opened in 1923 and
had gained a reputation for being the home away from home of kings,
presidents and Hollywood celebrities. The valet tipped his hat, and
Agatha took his hand. He closed the door and took a moment to read
Sun Construction Company painted on the door. The valet acknowl-
edged Sol and waved him along as other cars were now lining up behind
his pickup. Sol watched Agatha enter through the large heavy doors to
the hotel. Move on, sir. The valet raised his voice just enough to get
River of Angels 87
Sols attention. Agatha walked to the middle of the reception foyer,
glancing up at the ornately carved ceilings and its murals of scenes from
classical mythology. Standing directly beneath a crystal chandelier, the
people who walked about her were well-dressed businessmen and
women who wore the latest European fashions. She tugged at her sim-
ple tailored coat and felt confident and comfortable. Her first impres-
sions of the Biltmore were comfort and the idea that nobody here
seemed to be looking at what you wore or who you might be. People
moved about doing their jobs. These were working men and women
some rich, perhaps, but nonetheless working, she thought. Agatha was
the person staring. She chided herself and moved down the hall to the
Grand Restaurant. Yes, it certainly did not feel like the stuffy Ambassa-
dor, Los Angeles senior hotel. She and Oakley had dined there to expe-
rience that hotels elitism and arrogance. Uncle Philip had invited
Ernest and Allison to several balls at the Ambassador which led Allison
to agree with Agatha that old families, old money, old tradition, old
thinking characterized the Ambassador crowd, while at the Biltmore
new working-class wealth frequented the facility. Maybe the new Los
Angeles entrepreneurs, including Agatha and Allison, went to the Bilt-
more because it made them feel closer to the roots, the people. They
both sensed that they were really down-to-earth women. A man in a
tuxedo walked toward Agatha, appearing to recognize her.
Mrs. Rivers. Welcome to the Biltmore! Mrs. Keller already is here.
This way, please. Im sorry you had to wait.
Agatha followed the matre d, weaving through the elegant tables
in the large dining room. Most of the tables were taken by seemingly
important men who enjoyed what appeared to be delicious meals and
rich red wines. At times men leaned into the tables as if they were shar-
ing crucial information, perhaps about lucrative business deals. They
pushed away, laughing. Several men glanced her way. One seemed to
follow her, never taking his eyes off her. Rude, Agatha thought, rude.
Against a sunny window at an elegant table prepared for two sat Allison
Fulbert Greenmuth Keller. She, unlike the other women, was attired in
a daring flapper-style green dress partly revealing her milk-white shoul-
ders covered with a golden silk shawl. Being neighbors in Hancock
Park, living one block apart and watching their children become close
playmates, both Agatha and Allison often conferred with each other
about their children. As their children grew and became closer, so did
Agatha and Allison. Eventually they became close friends, whose con-
88 Alejandro Morales
fidence in one another developed, permitting them to share their most
intimate feelings and worries. They had become like sisters. There was
nothing one did not know about the other. They considered themselves
progressive women who were able to tell their husbands that they would
be going out by themselves to enjoy the city. Above all, they did not
want escorts, and they both enjoyed driving. Driving was the first thing
Allison learned when she came to Los Angeles. The city was not like
Philadelphia, Boston or New York, places where you could walk com-
fortably to get wherever you needed to be. Los Angeles was a city of
distances where a car was essential. Allison learned to drive within a
month of her arrival. Agatha became her navigator. The two women
went everywhere together. They explored every section of the city. They
discovered the many neighborhoods and distinct ethnic areas, and they
found, tasted and learned how to prepare the variety of foods of Los
Angeles. They also discovered some of the best restaurants in the city.
They gladly took their families to these neighborhoods and restaurants,
educating their children and their husbands. Ernest was the one who put
up the most resistance to going into areas of the city he did not like.
You can get sick eating at those places!
Oakley was the easiest to convince. He willingly accompanied the
women. Allison and Agatha made sure they had their time set aside to
get away from husband, family and household. They cherished having
time for themselves, and todays luncheon happened to be one of those
select occasions. Allison had already arranged the meal with the matre
d. She knew Agatha would object to her going ahead and making the
selections, but Allison was impetuous and could not help herself.
Agatha did not even ask for the menu. For the specials, the chef had pre-
pared a traditional Napolitano cuisine that the matre d had enthusias-
tically recommended.
The womens conversation touched all aspects of living in Los
Angeles. At times they commented on their husbands businesses, but
Allison demurred from speaking about the jobs they were doing or the
contracts they had signed. She felt disadvantaged speaking to Agatha
about business because she knew Agathas background entailed han-
dling the accounting for Sun Construction. It was a fact that Agatha
knew how the companies ran, how they were managed, how the two
corporations competed for the best construction contracts in the city.
Agatha handled the finances for the company and she knew about the
competition from Keller Construction. So they seldom talked about
River of Angels 89
their family businesses. It came up on occasion, but today the two talked
about their homes, the domestic help that they could not do without.
Several pieces of furniture, two mahogany desks that Agatha had pur-
chased, became the path that led them to consider how well Agathas
children were doing in school.
Of course Albert and Dame Marie deserve beautiful desks made
for them. They will learn even more with those desks, Allison said and
looked about at the magnificent decor. Several men glanced over to
them and smiled.
Its Uncle Philip who worries me. He wants the children to attend
another school. Marlborough is not good enough for him. He said that
the school is too lax in whom they admit.
Agatha listened carefully.
His ideas are absurd, but Ernest listens to him. He attends meetings
where they talk about what they call the Aryan future of Los Angeles.
Agatha could no longer restrain a response. I dont like that talk. I
dont care if its coming from your Uncle Philip or anyone else. Its bad,
evil thinking. I dont think those nativist groups are helpful to any of us.
They dont help our business. Our workers are the people these groups
attack. What would we do without those laborers?
Uncle Philip blames Louises math difficulty on Marlborough.
Agatha, I was thinking that Albert should help her. Hes doing so well
in mathematics. Do you think he can tutor her? Would he do it? I hope
so! Hes been accepted at so many universities, hasnt he?
Hes decided on USC to study engineering. He wants to be close
to home, close to us, to continue to work with his father.
Agatha, thats wonderful. Please ask him to help Louise.
In the late afternoon, Allison drove them home. They headed west,
under a brilliant crimson sky, following Olympic Boulevard to Hancock
Park. Los Angeles, covered with a halo of red, orange and purple hues,
inspired in Agatha and Allison confidence about the future for them and
their families.
THEIR FEET RESISTED the cool crystal water running above the
sandy river bed. His feet softly pushed her feet away against the current.
She pushed her feet firmly against his. They moved closer together on
the boulder hidden in the middle of a patch of high thick reed grass.
They thrilled to the sensation of their feet touching under the cool water,
the smoothness of their calves against the others skin; they turned to
90 Alejandro Morales
kiss, pressing their mouths together, listening to each others deeper and
deeper breaths. Under the warm sun, holding hands, they walked to
where the river ran shallow, their steps splashing in the early afternoon
on a spring day after a hard winter, with snowcaps on the San Bernardi-
no mountains and a significant dusting on the San Gabriel range. In the
valleys and in the basin, rain had filled the streams and deep arroyos that
joined the Los Angeles and San Gabriel rivers. Every field small and
large was covered with wild grass, contrasted with yellow, white and
orange flowers. They walked slowly, carefully through the lush green
brush. They paused to hold one another again. They listened to the
peaceful silence, only interrupted by the call of mockingbirds, the hum-
ming of bumblebees, the gurgling brook running away from the river.
Here in this place the winter water trickled, mocking its clandestine
escape into the dark rocky spaces of the deep canyons of greenery open-
ing to the west and south to the sea. Albert and Louise moved deeper
into the high brush and thick ferns that they separated to get to a place
where only their eyes helped them remove her blouse, his shirt, to
embrace again, a sweet kiss shared. She traced his lips with her tongue;
he moved his lips upon her nipples. He opened his mouth desiring to
breathe her into his breast, into his body.
His eyes opened wide. Oh no! he sighed.
Quick, Albert! Quick! Louise pressed him against her. He wasnt
heavy. His shoulders, his hips trembled as he raised himself to an eter-
nity in minutes. Louise would not let him go.
Dont. Stay like you are. She moved her hips under him. Her
hands moved over his buttocks, quickening him, helping him help her.
For about an hour they lay together on the scores of reeds they had cut
to make a dry green nest. The slight weight of their bodies molded the
reeds and earth beneath them into a comfortable resting place, a natural
site for star-crossed lovers, Albert and Louise. He helped her stand up.
She gathered herself and slipped into her skirt while he rushed to slide
on his pants, throw on his shirt. Sitting down again, he tied his
shoelaces. Albert looked up at Louise, the intense carnal mystery; a sen-
sation too strong to resist bound them together. They were slaves to the
joyous desire they shared for one another that grew more intense when
they were apart. They could never fully satisfy this passion. Only when
Albert and Louise were intimate could they partly quench for a short
time the burning hunger for each other. Their love was so heavy on their
River of Angels 91
hearts that they worried for each other. They worried about the heavy
heart the other carried.
Dont love me so much, Louise warned Albert.
I feel so sad for you. Why did you choose me to love? he often
asked Louise.
Often they had walked this path that meandered by the River Moth-
ers house, the strange house built with found objects.
The River Mother is a natural engineer, Albert chuckled.
An architect.
Louise placed her hand over her eyes to protect herself from the
bright sunlight reflecting from the River Mothers dwelling. The sun-
light splintered in all directions from the house. People who lived in the
hills surrounding the Los Angeles basin claimed to be able to see a radi-
ant glow from the river.
Albert was proud of the structure Sol had helped construct.
As they climbed up to the Ros Adobe, where they had parked
Alberts truck, he said, The River Mother has lived by the river for
many years. Nobody knows for how long.
How do you know so much about her?
She saved my Uncle Sols life. She took him in for some years.
What happened to him?
Come on, Louise, we need to get home. Im worried. Sooner or
later our parents are going to ask questions. Theyre going to find out.
You worry too much. What will they discover? That we love each
other. Its their fault. They brought us together. Louise jumped into the
truck and slammed the door.
Albert and Louise did not speak a word all the way home. Albert
had told his mother that he would pick up Louise from school and take
her to the library at USC to study, then he would drive Louise home.
Albert and Louise had done this several times, but this time they were
over an hour late. What would he tell Louises mother? He would see
Mrs. Keller because that evening, like every Tuesday and Thursday
evening for almost a year, Albert was scheduled to tutor Louise in math-
ematics, algebra, geometry and other subjects.
In the opinion of Allison Keller, Albert Rivers was a superb tutor.
He was a teacher who helped raise her daughters grades in mathemat-
ics and other subjects to near the highest rank of her class. Louises
schoolwork had improved beyond what Allison had expected. Her
daughter Louise would go to the university. She was in her last year at
92 Alejandro Morales
Marlborough and bound to go to an Ivy League college. Allison had a
long-standing legacy at Bryn Mawr College, but if her Uncle Philip had
any say, his niece would attend the University of Southern California.
There she could study whatever she wantedeven engineering. It was
common knowledge that at many universities, even if women were
allowed to enter, they could not study such subjects as engineering.
Uncle Philip assured the family that at USC Louise and her sisters
would be allowed to study any subject they desired.
The girls will have a Philip Keller scholarship when they attend
USC.
Uncle Philip was proud of his offer to his nephews family. He did
not want the girls to worry about tuition. He guaranteed that all costs
would be covered. All was already planned. There would be no excuse.
He made sure of that.
At seven that evening when Albert knocked on the door of the
Kellers residence, it was Louise who answered.
My parents are gone. Dad came home early and they went to a
business dinner. Emily and Gloria are going to your house to study with
Dame Marie.
As the door closed behind them, their hearts started to race. They
were alone again.
ABOUT A MONTH after their lunch at the Biltmore, Agatha had heed-
ed Allisons requests and sent Albert to the Kellers home to tutor
Louise. The Kellers house was one block away from the Rivers and sat
back on two acres of well-landscaped grounds of plush green grass,
pruned shrubs and trees, with islands of flowers which caught the eye
and added color exactly where it was needed. Every blade of grass in its
place, not one weed showed itself in the flower beds. On that first tutor-
ing visit Albert had walked leisurely up the long stone driveway. A crew
of three Mexican men worked at different sections of the front yard.
One watered the lawn. Albert acknowledged each man. No doubt, the
house was well kept. Precisely organized, everything had a place. It was
spotless. As a boy Albert and his sister had visited the house to play with
the Keller girls, but he had never paid attention before to how well-kept
the grounds were and how each stone leading to the front door, and the
front door itself, the threshold, and the foyer, and the rooms appeared
pristine, as if they had been bought or arranged that day. Albert liked
this feeling. It was the way his mother kept their home.
River of Angels 93
Mrs. Keller immediately took Alberts arm and escorted him to the
large kitchen, where he said hello to Mr. Ernest Prescott Keller and his
uncle, Philip Keller, who did not take his eyes off the young tutor.
Louise is in the study. She has all her books. Please emphasize the
algebra. Right this way. Ill have Ernestina bring you two some lemonade.
Upon entering, Alberts sight quickly took in the long narrow room
with a high stone and brick fireplace, French doors facing out to a splen-
did garden with a pool and various beds of roses in full bloom. The
study had high walls, vaulted ceilings and dark-stained oak cases filled
with books. Louise turned the pages of a leather-bound book on a mar-
ble table. She instantly sensed his presence and stood up. Albert! She
pronounced his name confidently and a little loudly. She was elated that
he had come.
Work hard, you two. Mrs. Keller exited by way of one of the
French doors to the garden.
Louise offered her hand. Albert took it. Throughout that evening he
never let go. She never resisted. They smiled at Ernestina, who came
with the lemonade. Their hands continued to touch under a green
opened folder that moved like a crab toward the cold crystal pitcher.
Ernestina gave the floating green folder a perplexed look. Louise waved
good-bye and opened an algebra book. They both moved closer and
looked down at the pages of algebraic equations. Their eyes met. They
came closer, but he resisted his wanting and she withstood her desire.
Louise took his hand and wove her fingers in his. He caressed her arm.
She leaned her breast into his shoulder. A half hour went by, and they
simply stared at each other. They studied each others face. She touched
his cheek and he leaned on her shoulder in an effort to stand up. She
pulled him down.
We must study your algebra, Louise. We must study!
Albert wondered what to say, how to respond to how his body
pushed him toward her. Now, being alone with her, he completely
focused his attention on Louise, the young woman whom he had to
teach. The first night he stayed almost two hours. They studied algebra
problems, which Louise learned how to solve easily. She learned quick-
ly and accelerated the pace to have more time with him. Both families
were happy with the progress Louise made with Alberts tutoring. The
tutoring sessions usually were about two hours long. At times they last-
ed three hours. With Alberts teaching, Louise excelled in school. Only
Uncle Philip questioned why Albert and Louise needed more than an
94 Alejandro Morales
hour to study. He expressed his suspicions to Ernest and Allison, but
Allison responded that she knew what was best for her children.
The boy is not one of us. He has dark skin! Are you blind? Uncle
Philip protested.
Despite Uncle Philips misgivings, Louises math skills improved
so much that Allison planned a dinner party for the Keller and the
Rivers families to celebrate her daughters success and to recognize
Albert for his excellent teaching. She also wanted to show Uncle Philip
that his doubts about Albert had been wrong all along. Of course, this
little revenge plan she kept to herself.
Ernest and I want Albert to continue tutoring Louise. She is now
at the top of her class, Allison announced to the families, including Sol
and Uncle Philip, who sat outside at a long rectangular table that Sol
had made for Allisons party. On that warm October day Ernest and
Oakley started a small bonfire in a fire pit made out of Simons bricks.
Their neighbor Walter Robey Simons, owner of brickyards, had been
building a brick patio on the side of his house. Sol had talked to the
Simons workers and told them about the party. He mentioned that he
thought it would be nice to have a brick fire pit in case the weather
turned cool. Mr. Simons overheard the conversation, and the next day
he had some of his men deliver enough bricks to build the pit at the
Kellers residence. Sol wanted to pay the men, but they refused to accept
the money and offered to build a nice barbecue for la seora Keller in
time for the party. No money was ever exchanged. It was Sols good
nature, his good spirit that had enchanted the workers. They were happy
to work for him and for la seora Keller. After their first meeting, Sol
visited the Simons workers often and became good friends with sever-
al of them.
After dinner the families sat around the fire and watched the sunset
and the full moon rising orange into an early evening sky. Albert and
Louise sat directly across from each other around the fire pit. They
watched one another through the yellow flames rising from the orange
and oak wood that Uncle Philip had tossed into the pit. Louise recalled
her uncle once saying that oak and particularly orange wood burned
long and intensely. Louise felt the heat rising from her feet. She pushed
away her blond hair from her forehead as she fixed her gaze through the
flames on her handsome young lover. She reached out a little closer to
the brick circle of burning wood, toward the flames that jumped and
merged into each other like weaving fingers ascending, rising like roots
River of Angels 95
from the heart of the fire that fed and spread its intensity under the won-
drous Southern California sky. Louise noticed Albert smile as he tossed
an orange wood log into the fire. He gladly fed the fire while he watched
the girl who made his heart jump like the blistering tongues that licked
his brown hands.
Oakley and Agatha sat next to Allison and Ernest. Uncle Philip
moved his chair between the couples. Sol, comfortable in a white wick-
er chair on the porch, stared, fixated on the wondrous yellow moon. His
heart listened to the families who surrounded him. Strangely, he heard
the beating hearts of the animals above and below. Albert looked
beyond the Kellers backyard, beyond the garden to the green fields.
Small houses dotted the open spaces as well as new imposing mansions.
Two cars drove up to one of those new estates and stopped in the long
drive. Two well-dressed couples entered the Edegart mansion. Lights
went on and life filled those many rooms. Albert noticed the roses, birds
of paradise, lavender, orange blossoms blending with the wisteria vines
to form a multi-hued tapestry behind his beloved Louise.
There are too many, Oakley. Ernest Keller spoke loud enough to
catch Alberts attention.
They keep making moreFord, Chevrolet, Chrysler, Plymouth,
Desoto, Cadillac. People keep buying cars and congesting our streets,
Oakley responded.
Not everyone should have a car. They cant drive well and, worse
than that, they cant afford it, Allison interjected.
Thousands and more thousands will be manufactured, making it
necessary to build more streets and highways. There are more cars here
than in any other city in the country, Uncle Philip added. He sat up
straight. Even the poorest are buying cars and trucks. Every working
Mexican has a Ford pickup!
Better roads, we have the space. Better roads, bigger and better
bridges are what we need, Ernest said.
Roads and bridges, I agree, but dont cement the river for cars and
trucks. Oakleys expression was more of a plea than a comment. He
tossed a piece of wood into the fire pit.
Are they really going to do that? Agatha asked. She got up and
filled everyones glasses.
People voted for a river truck freeway to run from the harbor to
San Fernando. Trucks will run on the cemented riverwhen theres no
water in it.
96 Alejandro Morales
Oakley, I heard the trucks will run along the side of the river on an
elevated high speed thoroughfare, Allison said.
The city needs more concrete bridges over the river. The bonds we
voted for finally will open bids on the proposed bridges. Where does
Sun stand, Oakley? In Ernests voice there was a tone of challenge.
Oakley sat quietly, not responding. He continued tossing small
pieces of wood into the fire.
Agatha filled the void. Sun Construction will bid on the bridges.
Well continue building the bridges. Thats our business. Oakleys fam-
ily and mine have constructed or financed bridges over that fickle river
for over fifty years. Why should we stop now?
Agatha stood up next to Albert who, along with Louise, had been
listening to their parents conversation and had decided to join them on
their side of the fire pit.
For fifty years, ha! Then you should know that for this city to
thrive we need to clear out those Mexican colonies that hug the river
bank. Those places and people . . . a blight, filthy breeders of disease.
Sure, build your bridges, but get those Mexicans out of there! Uncle
Philip declared, while forcing a large log of orange wood onto the fire,
causing embers to jump up, making the children quickly back away.
Oh please, Uncle Philip, for Gods sake, please dont start on that
Aryan diatribe. Please, all it does is get you all riled up. And now you
have upset the children!
Allison went to Emily and Gloria, who brushed ashes off their
dresses. Glaring directly at Uncle Philip, Allison called out emphatical-
ly to the family housekeeper: Ernestina, bring desert for the children.
Ernestina!
THE HEAT WAS intense on that Friday in October, but by late after-
noon it had cooled down enough to walk along the river path that led to
the First Street viaduct. That afternoon Ernest Keller had worked at
home and was leaving to meet Oakley Rivers at his office on the Boyle
Heights side of the Los Angeles River. Louise, who was studying with
Albert, asked her father where he was rushing off to.
To meet Alberts dad at the river office.
Albert and Louise spoke at once: Can we go?
Ernest stopped at the door, somewhat bothered but not surprised. It
was hot indoors, and he understood that his daughter and Albert both
were probably bored with all the studying they had done. Lately, Louise
River of Angels 97
had put in a lot more time on her homework and classes than usual.
Exam week, Ernest thought.
Hurry up, its a long drive.
The Boyle Heights office of Sun Construction Company stood near
Alberts grandparents house and was also close to the River Mothers
dwelling. They could get away, be alone at the river, Louise thought.
They rode in Ernests Hudson. It was a smooth drive following Olympic
Boulevard into Los Angeles, across the East Los Angeles Bridge to
Whittier Boulevard to Boyle Street to First and down to the Sun Con-
struction Company office. The three entered the office and greeted sev-
eral men who waited for Mr. Kellers arrival. Oakley Rivers came out of
his office to join them.
Hola, Pap. Albert walked over and kissed his fathers hand.
Louise had never seen Albert do this. She liked the greeting, a sign
of love and respect. She noticed her father, who had just arrived, look-
ing at her. She smiled.
Dad, Mr. Keller, with your permission, Louise and I will go walk-
ing over to the old house. We can get some fresh air along the river. Or,
we can wait outside?
Louise headed for the door. She was not going to wait for her
fathers answer.
Its fine, I guess. Dont go into the river. Be back soon! Ernest
called out to his daughter, who was by now walking alone toward the
Ros Adobe. She left all the men standing, staring at the open door.
Albert finally caught up with her, headed to the gazebo that Sol had
built for himself. Sol often sat there alone, watching the river running
down to the ocean. Albert did not see his uncles truck parked in front
of the garden shed. There were three cars in the parking lot. A docent
from the Los Angeles Department of Parks and Recreation was in
charge of receiving guests. The docent opened and closed the house
from Tuesday to Saturday. Sol was still responsible for the maintenance
of the house and grounds.
Albert and Louise observed the river and held hands while heading
for the gazebo. They walked along the edge, on the sandy earth between
the water and the bank, where the River Mothers house stood perched
on solid ground. A warm breeze, that circulated and wove in and out of
the brush, cattails and high grass, played with Louises brown hair.
Albert pushed her hair away from her forehead. They kissed, looked
about, saw no one on the river and kept walking toward the gazebo. As
98 Alejandro Morales
they slowly made their way up the bank, Louise paused to take in the
view of Los Angeles.
How can they cover this with cement? Albert asked. He spoke
softly to himself.
Louise nodded and said, Its for progress. They have to control the
river in winter.
They cant control the river. It will go where it wants to go.
My father believes it can be controlled. Thats why his company is
bidding for the concrete contracts with the county. Uncle Philip says it
will be beautiful once theyre finished. Itll be a scenic place with paths
and parkways filled with trees and flowers, and clean fast roads, mod-
ern speedways. Father said therell be a thousand parks for kids to play
in and families to picnic. My father and uncle want the City Beautifica-
tion Plan to be accepted. Theyre planning on working with the Army
Corp of Engineers. The plan will modernize the city and attract the right
kind of people.
Louise, do you really believe that tons of cement will make this
more beautiful? All it will do is hide the natural beauty of the river. The
river will never be any more beautiful than it is now! What are the right
kind of people, anyway?
LOUISE MOVED headed to the top of the embankment as the sound of
clinking glass, of pipes chiming in the wind announced that they were
very near the River Mothers house.
Albert, I hear talking.
The two youngsters quietly approached the side of the house. The
voices became more distinct. Two men talked with the River Mother.
Louise looked around the wall to where the people were speaking.
Albert peeked over her back. Two young men were sitting on wooden
straight-back chairs conversing with the old woman, who was sitting in
a faded wicker chair.
What is your name?
Cmo se llama?
La Madre del Ro.
No, ask her name.
Tu nombre?
La Madre del Ro.
Fine, fine then. Mrs. Madre del Ro, how old are you?
Su edad es muchos aos?
River of Angels 99
Mi edad? the River Mother chuckled. No tengo edad, slo
vida, la vida que ha pasado, la vida que tengo ahora y la vida que tengo
por delante. Sabemos que la vida es eterna, es energa eterna.
She says she has no age, only life, and lifes eternal, life is energy,
or something like that.
Shes an ancient beauty! I can see that. Ask, ask her how long she
has lived here.
Cuntos aos tiene vivir, tiene aqu?
Siempre he vivido aqu, siempre.
Always, she says.
Why do you live by the river? Ask her.
Por qu vive aqu? Al lado del ro?
Soy la criatura del ro y el ro es mi criatura. Como la madre y su
criatura, como la criatura y su madre.
What? What did she say?
Shes a creature of the river.
Now ask her if she has ever seen the river go over its banks?
Madre del Ro, visto el ro subir a la tierra, flood la tierra?
El ro inunda las tierras todos los das. El ro bendice la tierra con
su obsequio de vida, el agua del ro es vida.
The river floods every day, she says, and gives life.
How high has the river risen? Ask her that. Come on, ask her.
Cunto ha subido el ro?
Sus aguas han subido a lamberme, a besarme esta puerta. The
old woman rose to point to the door. She seemed impatient with what
she considered silly questions.
Has the river always been here? Always followed this course to the
sea?
Seora, s, el ro corre aqu siempre? Siempre por aqu?
El ro hace su propio camino. Tanto que quiere a la tierra que de
vez en cuando se va a visitar otras partes de la ciudad.
She says the river makes its own way and at times visits other parts
of the city.
Ask her, how high did the water come? How big was the biggest
flood she can remember?
Cunto alto lleg el agua cuando el ro comi la tierra? Qu
grande fue la inundacin ms grande en su vida?
No lo crears, sa fue tan grande que dos ros se juntaron. Mi ro
y el de San Gabriel se juntaron por ms de una semana.
100 Alejandro Morales
She says this river and the San Gabriel met, thats how high.
When did it happen? What year?
Cundo paso esa inundacin, seora Madre del Ro?
Eso pas cuando no haba casas, fbricas, puentes, ferrocarril,
cuando no exista la industria, cuando la naturaleza era inocente y no
violada.
That was before there was any city here, no bridges, nothing, when
nature was virgin and not violated.
The River Mother stepped inside her dwelling and, although the
men waited for a while, she did not return. Albert and Louise watched
the two young men walk out toward the Ros Adobe. The men drove
away from Boyle Heights. They probably crossed the river by way of
the recently completed Ninth Street bridge.
It was kind of an odd thought, how to cross the river. Both Louise
and Albert, like other Los Angeles residents, considered where to cross
the river. Which bridge to use became an important decision to many of
the residents. People seemed to be excited about how fast and modern
Los Angeles was becoming. Trains, railroad yards, trolleys, cars and
trucks, factories, bridges and tall buildings were being constructed all
around town. Downtown was beginning to look and feel like a modern
metropolis, a city of the future. Louise remembered how Uncle Philip
referred to Los Angeles as the city of the future, a city of an Aryan
future, he repeated at many dinner conversations with Ernest, Allison
and the children. The constant reference to the Aryan people upset Alli-
son, but, for the sake of family peace, she tried to ignore Uncle Philips
political rants, although not always successfully.
Albert and Louise reached the gazebo. They sat down on a bench
below the white wooden structure in a spot sheltered by high brush. In
silence they listened to the silence. They kissed and held tightly to each
other as if they were the only people on earth. They kissed again and
again. Alberts face warmed and Louises heart raced. The river listened
to their thoughts and hearts. Many birds were cavorting at the waters
edge. Herons and frogs orchestrated the rivers music.
Your father is calling us!
Albert ran up the hill. She followed, not worried.
Albert, wait. Slow down. You look so suspicious. Did you do
something wrong?
Her gaze calmed him down.
River of Angels 101
Albert, those men, asking the River Mother questions. . . . What
did they want with her?
With the River Mother? They wanted information about the river.
My school, USCs engineering professors and students are doing a proj-
ect on the river. Mostly students are asking old timers about the river.
Theyre finding old Mexicans who have lived by the river for genera-
tions, because they know so much history of the river. Find the oldest
Mexican who has lived by the river and youll find the oldest history.
The project has to do with cementing and controlling the rivers course.
By finding out where the river ran and flooded in the past, they can map
its future courses and floods. I dont know if I like the idea.
The information might be good for history, but I dont think this
research is necessary to control the river. Cement will fix the rivers
channel forever. With a stable river, Los Angeles can grow. Thats what
my familys investing in, Albert.
Well, I dont like the plan. Cement will take the rivers freedom
away. I dont think thats right, cementing something thats natural. The
river is part of the natural geography of Los Angeles, and by burying it
under tons of concrete, theyre trying to turn it into something that its
not. If they do it, imprison it, attempt to smother its natural flow, the
river will have its revenge by carrying a great flood that will tear away
the tons of cement, forcing its way to wherever it wants to flow. The
river will rise and create its own coursecement or no cement.
As they approached the office they saw Sol, who waved to them. He
was placing several large potted white azaleas into his pickup truck.
Albert, relieved that it was not Mr. Keller, gladly waved at his uncle.
Albert and Louise grabbed the sides of a large clay pot and lifted it into
the truck. It took about half an hour for Albert and Louise to help Sol
place ten heavy pots in the truck.
Louise glanced over to the office.
Theyre still talking. Ill tell your father youre here, Louise, Sol
offered.
Tell him we are walking to La Plaza. Well wait for him there.
LOUISE AND ALBERT headed toward the First Street viaduct, con-
structed by the city and the railroad companies for train service. The
viaduct carried the local traffic, cable cars, and also provided a walkway
for thousands of people crossing over to work and shop on each side of
the river, connecting Boyle Heights and downtown LA. On the week-
102 Alejandro Morales
ends the viaduct became a promenade where individuals, couples and
families strolled leisurely, taking in a variety of views of the river and
the growing city.
In Alberts opinion the viaduct was not built to survive the pound-
ing of the fast-moving river water. Steel, cement and wood combined to
bear the current weight of cable cars and humanity, yet but would not
stand the additional weight of cars, trucks and heavily laden railroad
cars that werent allowed to cross. Built in the 1880s, the viaduct would
soon lose its utility and would have to be rebuilt or, better yet, be
replaced by a new modern bridge. For Albert, roads and bridges needed
to be vastly improved for a future of large trucks and more automobiles.
It seemed that every family in Los Angeles owned a car. Everyone want-
ed an automobile, and families who lived in wealthy neighborhoods
usually had two cars. About a quarter of the way across the viaduct,
Albert and Louise kissed and held each other. They looked north upriv-
er to several clusters of trees near the river banks.
Look at that, that car camp on the other side of the river. Albert
pointed to a clump of cars, tents, tables and fires that hugged a grassy
area not far from the rivers edge. Children played in the grassy area
next to the encampment. The fifteen to twenty cars were organized in
groups of four to six around the few trees. Women were hanging clothes
on lines tied from a car to a tree. They had hung heavy towels and blan-
kets on the lower tree branches.
I dont think the city should allow those campers on the river. They
can stay for a day but not for weeks.
Albert walked on toward the middle and highest point on the
viaducts pedestrian sidewalk. The couple observed the entire panora-
ma: the river flowing to the sea; to the left the citys broad avenues,
organized streets and twelve-floor office and commercial buildings; to
the north and west, the affluent homes of Hancock Park, Hollywood,
Brentwood, Beverly Hills. Builders invested in middle-class residential
ventures for Anglo-American families. Along the river and across the
greater Eastside, the city council had zoned the area for industrial devel-
opment and for working-class Anglo families. Mexican housing was
torn down or pushed to the edges of the newly developed sections. The
Mexicans pushed against the river banks and railroad yards, lived in
abandoned farm worker camps, segregated company towns, in areas
that had not been designated for them in this city envisioned as Anglos-
only. The residents of the original Mexican colonias in Los Angeles
River of Angels 103
propernear La Placita and other sections newly designated as Anglo-
onlywere evicted and forced to relocate to the immigrant quarters of
Los Angeles that were thought of as Mexican reservations. The citys
Anglo population needed the Mexicans for labor. The Mexicans had to
live near, but not among, the Anglo families.
Albert and Louise headed to the other side of the viaduct. They
would meet Louises father or maybe Sol at La Plaza. Farther downriv-
er near Alameda Street, black smoke rose forming several large clouds.
Albert wondered what they were doing, not removing his eyes from the
source of the smoke. There was no mistake. The city abatement crews
were burning down two Mexican communities whose workers were
employed in the Los Angeles sweatshops and in the nearby Vernon
slaughter houses. According to the Los Angeles Health Department,
these Mexican neighborhoods were a health hazard. The Los Angeles
general population pointed to these poor sections as filthy, vermin-
infested sources of such diseases as tuberculosis, typhoid, cholera, flu,
venereal diseases and, the worst, plague. People on the viaduct crowd-
ed around to watch the smoke rise and dissipate slowly, high above the
city. Anglo mothers looked up and placed their hands over their mouths,
gathered the kids and rushed them away to safety. Others simply stared.
Some knew the cause of the fire; to others it did not matter. They were
too busy living their lives. After a short while they all moved on.
Uncle Philip spoke with Mom and Dad about the burn-outs. He
said it was for health reasons.
Its one more Mexican section of the city that they need to clear
out to build another factory or warehouse, or housing for Anglos,
Louise, thats what it is.
Its not only Mexicans losing their houses. Uncle Philip mentioned
the Negroes, Chinese, Japanesemaybe even the Russianswill be
asked to leave their homes. Some of these places are terribly poor and
dirty. Do you want those people to live like that, Albert?
The couple was almost to La Plaza. Mexican musicians sang songs
of the Revolution, others crooned love ballads. At La Plaza there was
always some kind of entertainment. As they entered La Plaza, they saw
Mexicans sitting on the outside benches and reading La Opinin news-
paper, discussing current events in Mexico and life in Los Angeles.
They wore dark work clothes, boots, some had on a suit jacket, and just
about all of them wore a hat or a work beret or an Irish cap. In the mid-
dle of La Plaza families gathered, entertained by acrobats, magicians
104 Alejandro Morales
and theater actors advertising a play, El Emperador Maximiliano I,
Emperador de Mxico.
Under a tree at the side of La Plaza, a vendor sold cold drinks.
Albert asked for horchata, a refreshing rice, sugar and cinnamon drink,
and offered Louise a taste. She liked it so much that he ordered one for
her, too. In silence and contentment they drank their horchatas and
waited for their ride home.
Are you Mexican?
The question came from nowhere. Albert looked around him. There
was only Louise sitting next to him.
Louise was enjoying her horchata. She smiled and waited for an
answer.
He had never before, that he remembered, been asked this question.
Nobody, even at USC, had ever inquired about who he was. Albert never
thought much about who he was. It seemed not to be important. His
father did not mention or discuss his identity with him or Dame Marie.
His mother also, up to now, did not seem worried about who she was,
or who her husband and children were. They were the Rivers family and
that was who they were, who he was.
Im not sure. Ive always been Albert Rivers. I dont need anything
else, label or brand, to know who I am. Do I?
But you know so much about Mexicans.
I get that from my Uncle Sol.
Your father speaks Spanish and you speak some Spanish. Ive
heard you. He saved the Abelardo Ros Adobe. Hes dark like you. Look
at these people, Albert. These people see you and they see one of their
own. I think they do.
My mother is Anglo. She is a Banac. The Banacs are a powerful
and rich Los Angeles family. Albert caught himself almost panicking.
He felt strange that such a question should raise in his mind so many
more questions. He sipped at his horchata.
I have never asked my father those questions, Louise.
I think its a good thing to know who you are, to learn about your
ancestry.
What if I am Mexican?
Then you are Mexican and you are mine and I love you.
Louise touched his face and rested her head against his chest. She
listened to his heart. Albert noticed people staring at them. He spotted
Sol watching them from his pickup truck parked across the street.
River of Angels 105
Louise suddenly realized that they had been discovered. Thank God its
Sol, she thought as she climbed into the Sun Construction Company
truck.
Dear Albert,
Your uncle Sol saw us in our embrace and probably saw us
kiss. I wonder how long he had observed us. Do you know his feel-
ings about our feelings toward each other? Does he know we are
in love? Or does he consider our caresses the puppy love of chil-
dren? During the ride home we hardly spoke a word. I believe he
was uncomfortable about what he had seen. I dont think he knew
then or knows now how to deal with what he saw. It has been
about two weeks, and my parents havent said anything or asked
about you. I dont think that Uncle Sol told your parents, and of
course he wouldnt tell mine. Nonetheless, every time they come
into my presence I sense they know something, but they dont
speak up. If they were to separate us, it would be a separation of
my soul from my body. We would never allow that to happen.
Albert, you would not allow our separation. I know you would
defend our right to be in love and be together. I will work even
harder now to learn from you, learn in every way more from you,
my mentor. I will keep my grades at the top of my class. I will be
valedictorian because of your teaching and counseling. I will do
so well that my mother could not possibly think of separating me
from you. She wants me to succeed and attend the university. I
will, Albert. I will fulfill her dreams because of you. I will follow
you to USC. I will be an engineer and graduate from USC as a
woman engineer, like the two women in your class at USC. My
mother will be so proud. All this will happen, Albert, because of
you! I will graduate as a civil engineer like you and work for my
fathers company and for your fathers company. Our parents will
be so proud, Albert.
Sol must not tell anyone about us. It is not the time, not yet,
Albert. Let your uncle know how important it is to keep our rela-
tionship of love a secret. You must confide in him. I know you trust
him. You speak so highly of him. Following your example, my
beloved Albert, I will trust him as well. I know he will not fail us.
He is so kind. A few days ago I saw the most marvelous thing that
he did in our garden. Mother had asked him to come to repair the
106 Alejandro Morales
broken pergola. I saw him resting on the ledge of the birdbath
when he slowly lifted his arm and pointed to the newspaper on a
table right below my window. He kept pointing, birds slowly gath-
ered, a swarm of birds circled above the paper. Suddenly they flew
down, grabbed the paper and flew over to your Uncle Sol, and
dropped the paper in his lap. Sol got so much enjoyment from
doing this amazing trick. He reached into his pocket and threw
seeds and bread crumbs on the grass and watched the birds, all
kinds of birds, gather to eat. Your Uncle Sol seems to have a gift
with animals, at least with birds!
Now I must confess that my questions, about who you are,
about your family, did not come from me directly, but they have
been inspired in my mind and heart by my Uncle Philip. Albert,
my Uncle Philip is not like your Uncle Sol, who has been your
kind, generous and good mentor in life. My Uncle Philip has been
and is a strict and precise and insistent mentor in my life, who has,
for the last six months or more, criticized your father and mother,
and you. He says that you, like your father, are not who you say
you are. I hear these ugly, hateful declarations in the conversa-
tions he has with my parents. These talks occur when he thinks
that we children are not listening. He scolds my father for doing
business with your father, and he criticizes my mother for encour-
aging you to be my tutor. My father listens. He hardly says a word.
Mother, on the other hand, responds to Uncle Philips criticisms
of you by showing him my academic reports and giving you all the
credit for my success. My heart races with joy when she defends
you! She puts Uncle Philip in his place by talking about your great
progress at USC. He is a natural engineer, a top student, she
states, proudly. My mothers defense of you galls Uncle Philip to
no end. He often talks about his intellectual and powerful friends
who are all associated with your university. He repeats to no end
his ideas that Los Angeles must be developed for the Aryan race.
I have never heard anything about the Aryan race. He says that we
must be aware of mixed-breed infiltrators who will bring down
our race. He believes in the pushing away, the separation of all
foreign people to what he calls foreign sections of the city. Uncle
Philips ideas and talk are so full of hate. When I hear him talk, I
sense from him a feeling of deep bitterness and anger. I dont
understand why. My parents, out of respect, allow him to have his
River of Angels 107
say. It is my uncle who strikes the most fear in my heart. I think he
wants to and would keep us apart.
I confess my feelings in a letter because I needed time to
organize them, because when I am with you I can only think of
being with you. I write my thoughts because I do not want to cry
in your presence and because I dont want to hurt you. Albert, I
love you. You are the only man in my life now and forever.
Your faithful love,
Louise
SOL ALWAYS ENJOYED working in the backyard garden at Oakley
and Agathas house. He supervised the three hired gardeners who came
without fail on Saturday. Theirs was a family enterprise. When the job
was extra big they simply brought more family members to help with
the job. Sol made sure that, depending on the season, several varieties
of flowers were blooming. The property Oakley and Agatha purchased
turned out to be larger than what they thought. The original land survey
had indicated the parcel to be a few square feet under a full acre. When
the escrow closed, the realtor noticed errors on the original land survey
and found that the Rivers property was actually one-and-a-half acres.
On that half acre Sol planted orange, avocado, apricot, pomegranate and
guava trees. To one side of his orchard he built a small functional house
to live in. He and the gardeners dug a well, installed plumbing and a
sewer system for his little house.
Agatha often went to see how he was improving or adding on to the
cottage. Sol amazed her with his talent for construction and carpentry
work. On one occasion, on a hot summer morning, she walked back to
the orchard to pick fruit and found Sol and several Sun Construction
workers digging a pit. She prided herself on knowing just about all the
workers employed by her company. She watched for a while and then
went about picking fruit. When she returned that evening, she found that
Sol and the workers had dug a five-foot-deep by three-and-a-half-foot-
wide pit that they lined with bricks from bottom to top. Agatha read the
Simons trade mark on several unused bricks. Their neighbor Mr. Walter
Robey Simons had asked them to take the left-over bricks from a bar-
becue he had built in his backyard, and Sol had built a Mexican-style
barbecue pit, with an opening covered by a heavy, round iron disc with
hooks that could be locked to the iron rings cemented around the open-
108 Alejandro Morales
ing. He also designed a patio that extended from the mouth of the fire
pit. It was large enough to hold several tables, benches and chairs. The
area had several avocado trees that would provide plenty of shade dur-
ing the summer months.
In a couple of days itll be dry. Ill place a heavy table over the lid.
No one person or kids will be able to move the lid off. Dont worry! It
takes at least three men to lift that heavy lid, Sol informed his sister-in-
law as she stood with her hands on her hips and a pleased look on her
face. Sol so enjoyed it when he made Agatha happy.
SOL HAD STAYED up all night, excited about the celebration to take
place during the day. He had tended to two goats that he and the work-
ers had chosen for slaughter. Sol had told the workers that he would stay
with the animals throughout the night. One of the men stayed and
watched Sol embrace and pet the goats. It looked like Sol was praying
and consoling the goats about their fate. The two goats never struggled
or attempted to run off. Even when he released them the animals stood
very near. Sol went to his knees, bowed his head, remained in that posi-
tion until the goats moved closer and bowed their heads, almost touch-
ing his. Sol and the animals did not move. The workers stood transfixed
by Sols behavior. After a long wait the workers stepped away quietly
so as not to disturb Sols prayer.
The next morning the workers arrived at seven and immediately
started several fires to boil water for cleaning knives, long trident tools
and the tables. Three of the workers wives had already gathered from
the garden several varieties of onions, squash, tomatoes, green, red and
yellow peppers, cucumbers, broccoli, lettuce and herbs. While the
women were washing the vegetables, three men had removed the lid and
tossed in kindling, rolled-up newspaper, pieces of dry oak and chunks
of charcoal into the bottom of the pit and ignited them with flaming
newspaper. In two hours the charcoal and the pit would reach the right
temperature for the meat. At the side of the pit, two men cleaned the
thorns from cactus leaves and trimmed maguey leaves, placing them in
a neat pile ready for use.
All items were in place when the time came for the preparation of
the meat. The goats were brought under a gallows-like structure built
several days before. Two workers knocked the goats to the ground. The
animals kicked and bleated. Sol placed his hands on each one, and the
animals seemed to calm down.
River of Angels 109
Ay Dios mo, qu milagroso eres, Sol! a woman cutting onions
remarked on Sols miraculous talents. Everyone laughed.
The goats front and back legs were tied together separately. Alive,
the animals were hung on the gallows by their hind legs. Hanging there,
the circulation of their bodies blood made its way down to their heads,
until their bodies settled and did not struggle to get free. A tall slim man
accompanied by two women carrying large deep pots stepped up to the
animals. Several other men approached to assist. The tall man took a
knife and punctured the side of each neck, quickly opening a stream of
blood that poured into the large pots below. For about twenty minutes
the blood drained. The tall man then sliced the goats necks from ear to
ear. The blood rushed out now in a stream; then, large heavy drops
became smaller.
The tall man proceeded next to cut through the neck flesh, muscle,
cartilage and bone, severing the head neatly from the body. The head
was placed in a large deep pan and prepared for the pit. Then the man
went over to the second goat and repeated the procedure. Once both
heads were gone and the animals had drained out properly, he went to
the first animal and made a deep incision around the upper part of the
hooves. He took the knife and cut down the upper legs and down the
center of the body to the open space of the severed head. He continued
to slice through the coat down to the hooves of the forelegs. Then he
slowly peeled off the goats coat, leaving the animal bare of outer skin.
He carried out the same procedure with the other goat. The animals
hung there, slowly turning, in their light reddish flesh. The people who
had gathered to watch the slaughter applauded the butchers clean and
precise skill. He acknowledged them with a smile, drank a cup of water
and gestured to the rising sun. Next, he started the offal phase of the
butchering. With one deep and fast stroke, he opened the animals torso
cavity, almost completely expelling the viscera into an awaiting basin
below the carcass. To express his disappointment at the botched cut, the
man raised the seven-inch blade, scolding it: Maldita! He sharpened
the blade before attempting to cut open the second goat. As he
approached, the partygoers applauded and cheered him on. Confident-
ly, he went to the goat. The women placed another tin basin underneath
the carcass and moved away. The butcher now placed the tip of the
blade at the top of the goats abdomen, just below the sternum. He
pushed slightly, penetrating deeply, and stroked downward, opening it
up, this time smoothly, exposing the animals ribs and allowing the offal
110 Alejandro Morales
to fall precisely into the center of the basin. He bowed to the people
applauding his fine butchering. As he accepted the recognition from the
crowd, men and women cleaned inside the carcass, cut it down and
placed it on the tables for final butchering. An hour later both animals
had been cut, dressed and taken to the pit.
Agatha watched intently the careful slaughtering and skinning, the
disemboweling and dismembering of the goats. She had seen the pro-
cedure previously at other fiestas that her family had attended in the
Mexican barrios on the east side of the river. Agatha was fascinated each
time she witnessed the slaughter of goats. Allison had quickly walked
away from the slaughter stage to encourage the girls to help display the
crackers and cheese they had brought for the tables. The girls carried
soda pops and added them to large wash basins filled with ice and water
and drinks. Ernestina took Agatha from the slaughter spectacle over to
where the rest of the family gathered, to watch Sol and the other men
place maguey leaves over the coals at the pits bottom. They placed the
goat meat on the leaves and then added another layer of maguey leaves
and then several filleted roasts on top. The women put in potatoes, sweet
potatoes wrapped in corn husks and corn, then covered it with more
maguey and tender cactus leaves. Deep holes vented the pit to circulate
air. To raise and lower the temperature the men opened or closed the
opening of individual holes. Now it was time to relax, enjoy the snacks
and drinks, and wait for the barbecued food to cook.
Inside the house the girls played records on a new Victrola. They
danced the popular flapper dances. Albert sat outside with his father and
Ernest, listening to Uncle Philip describe how it was a good business
practice to let these people slaughter their animals in their primitive rit-
uals. The doorbell rang and Albert immediately went to answer it. Uncle
Philips habit of demeaning the Mexican workers had become an old
repetitive harangue to Albert. He remembered Louises question about
the Rivers family heritage. Albert opened the front door to welcome
Gerald Fisher and Aikens MacLeash, two of his favorite people, visit-
ing the Rivers home for the first time. As the Fisher and MacLeash
families were being welcomed and introduced, Franco Morretti arrived
with his family. Albert held the front door open as Paolo approached; he
reached out, embraced Albert, and kissed both sides of his face in the
traditional way that Italian men greet one another. Since he had left Sun
Construction, Paolo Morretti had been working for Keller Construction
for several years now. How quickly time had passed, thought Albert,
River of Angels 111
while remembering that Fisher, MacLeash and his mother had recently
written the Sun Construction proposal and bid for one of the bridge
projects offered by the Los Angeles city council.
Albert had been told all the details about how it happened that the
Rivers and the Kellers had agreed to form a working partnership, which
would likely create an even closer bond of friendship between the two
neighboring families. He knew the City of Los Angeles had called Sun
Construction and invited Agatha, Oakley and the two engineers, Fisher
and MacLeash, to come by the city business office. They had been so
excited about what the city might offer. And meeting their expectations,
the city had offered them one of the Fourth Street and Lorena viaduct
contracts approved by Merrill Butler, booster of the City Beautiful Plan
and the citys number one engineer. Sun Construction was again in the
bridge-building business. Two days later Ernest Keller had also received
a call from the city. Ernest went to City Hall, accompanied by his Uncle
Philip. And Gerald Fisher was there, assigned by Oakley and Agatha to
attend the meeting as a consultant. Keller Construction accepted a con-
tract as one of the construction companies to build the First Street
viaduct. After accepting the citys offer, Ernest, against Uncle Philips
advice, went to meet Oakley and Agatha for assistance.
Ernest had come right to the point: I need labor and machines. You
have all that. We are not quite there yet for the bridge job. I dont want
to lose the contract. I need a little help.
Oakleys response was immediate: Give Agatha a list of what you
need. Sure, well help, but we need an official request on your compa-
nys letterhead. Well draft an independent contract with Keller Con-
struction.
Ernest extended his hand. Agatha smiled as the two men shook
hands.
Oakley made a recommendation as he walked Ernest to his car.
Paolo Morretti is a good worker. You can trust him with the crew. He
knows what to do. He knows engineering.
Agatha called her father, who had worked with Merrill Butler on
previous building projects. Mr. Banac immediately drafted the contract.
Today they were together to celebrate their good fortune in obtain-
ing big city contracts. The celebration brought the Rivers and Keller
families together in a new way that Agatha and Allison genuinely
enjoyed. In the early evening after dinner, the adults sat around the long
table that Sol had built, enjoying illegal California wines and a Spanish
112 Alejandro Morales
brandy, while the children enjoyed apple pie, homemade ice cream and
flan. Allison and Agatha stood together, paused to take a breath, a short
rest. They both observed Albert and Louises hands down by their sides,
their pinky fingers innocently touching. Agatha took a step toward her
son, but Allison, with a slight smile, held her back.
Un brindis, a toast! Oakley, holding a glass of brandy, motioned
to everyone to stand up. Today we celebrate our successful bids.
Tomorrow the hard work begins. Most importantly, we must be grateful
for Gods blessings on our families and friends, and for the love that
unites us all. Salud!
While the families cheered and applauded Oakleys toast that
evening, Uncle Philip stared at Albert and Louise still sitting side by
side. Biting his lip, disappointed, he looked over to Allison.
The hard work did start on the Monday following the family party.
Oakley, Agatha and her father began a series of meetings with account-
ants and financial officers representing Los Angeles, city and county,
and also Sante Fe, Union Pacific and Southern Pacific railroads. All had
financial interests in the project, and each entity would bear a percent-
age of the cost for the bridge.
Sun Construction also met with representatives from a variety of
specialized construction companies that had submitted bids to build cer-
tain parts for the bridge. Material and equipment companies eagerly
lined up to negotiate agreements to supply whatever Sun Construction
needed. Dealing with government, public and private financial entities
was easy compared to negotiating with unions that attempted to muscle
their way into the yard where Sun Construction workers met before
starting their day. The unions were organizing more and more workers
as the federal government kept passing laws to support collective bar-
gaining and the right of workers to join unions. Oakley despised the
union representatives. Often he ignored them, and on several occasions
he had them literally thrown out of the yard. Agatha became the primary
contact person who dealt with the reps. To date, no union had been suc-
cessful in infiltrating and organizing the employees of Sun Construc-
tion. The union people could not offer the quantity and quality of bene-
fits that Sun Construction already gave its full-time permanent
employees.
In good times, getting a job with Sun Construction had always
meant relatively long-term employment. If they didnt start with skills
already mastered, they could learn a trade and get on a crew comprised
River of Angels 113
of between twenty to thirty men of different skill levels. The crews were
multiracial. In good economic times or bad, whether skilled or
unskilled, if you were willing to work hard and learn, Sun Construction
offered opportunity. The companys reputation attracted eager workers
from throughout Southern California.
One of the most attractive benefits, with which unions had never
been able to compete, was that if Sun workers bought a house or a lot
near the company yard on the river at Boyle Heights, the company
helped to upgrade an older house or assist in building a new one. Like
Jess and Garras had done, other workers were now buying in the fast-
developing Mexican section on the east side of the river. Most bought
lots in Belvedere, Boyle, Brooklyn or Lincoln Heights, or further east
of the Los Angeles River. The black workers tended to buy land on Cen-
tral Avenue or in the Compton and Watts areas. Oakley and Agatha
encouraged their employees to buy close to the yard. The farthest Oak-
ley would send materials, trucks and equipment to build a house was to
the new areas just beyond Montebello.
Buy in the designated sections on the east side of the river. Thats
where you can buy. In the other places, they dont want mexicanos. You
know that, Oakley had reminded them while handing out envelopes
with payroll checks. He was aware of the redlining that banks and the
City of Los Angeles had been doing for years. His family, actually his
father-in-laws law firm, had assisted in the clandestine master develop-
ment plan created by the citys economic elites to sacrifice the east side
of the river to create designated Mexican immigrant areas and industri-
al zones. The plan called for the Westside to be devoted to beautiful
parks, recreational and residential sites for whites only. The Sun work-
ers did exactly what Oakley suggested. They bought land very near the
Boyle Heights Yard and took advantage of the companys help to build
a house. The savings went to purchase an automobile for the family.
Oakley thought of his workers and how eager they were to please him.
They were always on time for work and willing to work overtime. Before
he drove to the construction site on the river, he stopped to watch Franco
Morretti and Albert talk to men who wanted work. When he walked out of
the office, he noticed how the men formed two lines: one white and the
other Mexican, black and Asian. Oakley walked out to the group.
You dont have to line up like that! I dont want you to do that!
Today we need . . . He paused and looked over to Albert.
114 Alejandro Morales
Whenever the construction industry took a dive, full-time perma-
nent jobs became scarce everywhere. Unemployed workers knew of
Suns reputation, which made it the most desirable employer in its field.
Sun always attracted workers of varied skill levels, but especially
unskilled laborers showed up there in great numbers, even if it was part-
time or temporary work, because they believed that training there could
lead to secure employment with Sun, a growing company.
Twenty men, veinte muchachos! Were hiring for temporary jobs.
You might work for a few days, a few weeks, maybe a couple of
months. Only temporary jobs today! Mr. Morretti, our foreman, will be
watching how you work and, at the end of the day, hell let you know if
we want you back.
As Oakley drove to the construction site nearby, Alberts face lin-
gered in his mind. He was proud of his son, a handsome young man,
successful in school and now studying engineering at USC. Only the
best students got into USC, and his son was accepted with open arms.
Oakley thought of the question Albert had asked one afternoon when
they were alone at home. Oakley explained to his son that his grandfa-
ther was Mexican and his grandmother was Indian. He told him he
should be proud of his heritage. He remembered Albert looking direct-
ly into his fathers eyes, questioning his fathers identity. There was no
other answer.
Yes, Albert, my parents were Mexican and Indian, and that makes
you Mexican, Indian and Anglo.
Albert wanted a clear, honest answer to many questions that had
emerged.
Why am I not as dark as the Mexicans who work for us? Why
dont we speak more Spanish? Why does To Sol speak Spanish fluent-
ly? Did my grandmother name you Oakley? Why dont we have a
Mexican last name?
It was good for his son to know the history of his fathers family. It
was good that he understood why and how his last name was not Mex-
ican. Oakley remembered Alberts response:
I didnt grow up feeling Mexican or Indian or Anglo. I dont know
how I should feel. Should I feel Mexican now? Grandma and Grandpa
were just Grandma and Grandpa. They were just my grandparents.
Be proud of your grandparents. Be proud of who you are.
Oakley recalled more about that conversation with his son, who
spoke as a man now. He was happy that Albert concerned himself with
River of Angels 115
these issues of who he was, especially during these days of so much
anti-immigrant, anti-Mexican hate going around. They treated some
Mexicans badly, especially the poor Chicanos coming over the border
ragged and hungry, and Indians worse, he thought. Oakley remembered
that a few years ago there was a lynching of a Mexican in Santa Ana,
and Albert, too, was aware of that incident.
I dont speak Spanish that well, but I understand it. To Sol speaks
to me in Spanish. I hear you speaking to the Mexican workers in Span-
ish. Mom speaks some, too.
Good, then it will be easy for you to learn more of the language.
Nowadays it is a necessity in Los Angeles.
Albert had to learn to live who he was, and Oakley was sure that his
son and daughter both would be able to accept their identity. As a fam-
ily, they were not unique. There were more and more marriages between
Mexicans and non-Mexicans. With the city growing and more people of
different ethnicities sharing space, intermarriages were increasing.
What was unique about Oakleys marriage was that they were wealthy
and in a position to affect people. Oakley had created a construction
company, and Agatha and her family made it a wealthy and an influen-
tial legal and political corporation. Oakley learned quickly from his
wife about the power they possessed. She and her family controlled
wealth, but perhaps, most importantly, they had accumulated knowl-
edge about Los Angeles and its big-money movers. An unassuming
nature allowed Oakley to play second fiddle to his wife. He coordinat-
ed Sun Construction, a small portion of Agathas familys business and
wealth. What mattered were what and who you knew, and the deep
pockets you had to support your entrepreneurship. Their time was now.
Where I am, where we function, ethnicity doesnt much matter; money
erases my face, Oakley thought, while he slowly walked to the con-
struction site.
Sections of the river bottom had been covered with cement, and
Kellers crew had diverted the water that ran downriver toward the west
side of the river bed, allowing the breaking up of the concrete and the
digging of the craters for the steel trestles that would be sunk one hun-
dred feet into the earth. These pillars were bases for the siding blocks
that together formed the massive foundation mold into which tons of
hydroconcrete mix would be poured. The Sun Construction Company
would build twelve foundation craters and molds. Upon these massive
footings the bridges base pillars would rise over one hundred feet
116 Alejandro Morales
above the river. The crews were working at both sides of the river break-
ing concrete, digging deep craters, sinking heavy steel pillarsslowly,
diligently, expertly working toward the center of the river. Fisher
worked on the west, and MacLeash ran a crew on the east side. Oakley
waved at MacLeash and carefully approached the nearest deep pit to the
rivers edge. Oakley looked down and acknowledged the ten men work-
ing at the bottom, guiding the excavation, directing the steam shovel
and the crane that raised large heavy scoops of earth, sand, rock and
mud to a line of trucks that waited to haul the diggings away to a near-
by landfill.
Sun Construction was on schedule. Fisher and MacLeash estimated
a sixteen-month timeline, depending on rain. What had to be built
before the rainy season were the twelve steel concrete bases. Once the
bases were constructed, the crews could work above the water to build
the spans and connect them from base to base across the river.
MacLeash removed his hardhat and wiped his brow with a red-striped
handkerchief.
Need about five more trucks on this end. I dont know how Gerry
is doing over there. We can talk tonight if you want. The sooner I dig
these pits, the happier Im going to be. Five trucks, five more trucks!
MacLeash walked away.
From building humble river rafts to building bridges, Oakleys his-
tory amazed him and gave him a deep satisfaction as he drove across the
Los Angeles riverbed to the west side where Fisher waited.
River of Angels 117
If you are seeking, seek us with joy,
for we live in the kingdom of joy.
Do not give your heart to anything else
but to the love of those who are clear joy.
Do not go in the direction of darkness;
I tell you: suns exist.
Rumi
PART THREE
Dear Albert,
How long do I have to wait for a letter, a card, a note from
you? My questions have not been answered. These questions
about you and your family are important to you and to my family.
Maybe it is because they come from me that you are not eager to
answer. I am sure, my beautiful Albert, that you will be forced to
confront them again someday. For your own good, your own
peace, you must know who you are. I ask them of you for your
well-being. For me you are Albert my love, the handsome, intelli-
gent young man who opens me up, possesses me, travels my body
with his delightful tongue. Oh God, why arent you with me now?
Why am I not with you at this moment? Now, every time we are
together, we come together. When we are together there is no time
for silly questions, hardly a moment for a word between us. Time
can only be measured by pursuing our pleasure. There is no rest
for us kissing. Kissing, caressing, licking, swallowing, holding,
opening, entering, loving each otherour love and pleasure will
not allow rest when we are together. I will do anything for you and
119
I know you will do what I want, what drives me to want more, to
be bold and ask for this, for that, and I scream in silence when you
comply, you magnificent monster. You are worried about who you
are. Dont be troubled. Worry about our love. Lets work to make
it better.
A week ago was the last time we were together, alone for
almost two hours at Griffith Park. Nobody was around. What we
did became so intense, gave us so much pleasure, so much joy that
I cant forget those feelings. At night I cant erase those sensations
from my mind to sleep, and I do not want to. I begin to experience
the feelings again. My God, in every way I can almost see, smell,
feel, touch, taste you in me, on me, behind me, over me. My body
arches from the sensation. I know I havent sinned. I know we
have not sinned. Our life is a blessing. God wants us together.
Uncle Philip is constantly telling my parents how wrong it is
for you to tutor me, for you to spend so much time with me. He
does not like our friendship. He scolds Mother and Father. He
yelled at them and said that you will ruin our family, that our fam-
ily must be kept pure. He is so terrible saying those things! Moth-
er defended you, Albert! She raised her voice and Father walked
her away. It happened in front of all of us. Uncle Philip told
Father that we should not see each other. I know that nothing will
separate us. Our friendship, our love is eternal. It is the kind of
love our priest talks about in church.
I cant rest. I am having trouble studying. I open a book and
its like opening to you. I try to read and it is like reading your
body. My mind wanders to our next meeting alone. Dont worry
about my questions. We are living in modern times, with new
ideas, and soon many different people will be living in the city.
Things are changing rapidly. There is always something new. A
new world is coming, and you and I are in the middle of it all. Our
parents, our families are helping to build that new world. I am so
proud of our fathers; they have made us all participants. I dont
like going to church anymore. The priest criticized and warned us
about the dangers of these modern ways. He warned about learn-
ing the modern dances. I thought of the dances your Uncle Sol
goes to, and I wondered if he was a sinner. I giggled at the thought
of Uncle Sol being a sinner. Our priest condemned the modern
style of dress. He especially scolded the women of our congrega-
120 Alejandro Morales
tion, told them not to buy new-style dresses that hardly cover their
body with scanty sheer cloth. I cant understand why the Church
criticizes all that is beautiful today. These priests are so annoying.
They need to go out and live in the real world.
Albert, we are friendsin the deepest meaning of the word,
we are friends. At this point in our lives we are friends who share
deeply the gifts that God has given us. Albert and Louise are one,
my love. Together we are whole; one part cant live without the
other. My love for you is allnothing else counts, nothing else
matters. All the things I do are solely to perpetuate my love for
you, Albert, to make our lives eternal, to make our love survive
forever. I dont know how much longer we can exist like this. Now,
write to me so that I can read your words at night, when we are
not together, so that at least I can touch the paper you touched.
Write to me, Albert, even a short note. Please write and confess
your love for me.
Forever yours and only yours!
Louise
IMMIGRANTS FROM THROUGHOUT the world were arriving in
Los Angeles on a daily basis, chasing myths and dreams and investing
in real estate after having believed the propaganda aimed at attracting
white middle-class and wealthy entrepreneurs. During the late 1920s
the Mexican population on the east side of the river continued to grow,
becoming a major commercial market for many non-Mexican entrepre-
neurs, who even in downtown stores advertised to attract Mexican shop-
pers to their businesses. A few even announced se habla espaol. La
Opinin newspaper carried a variety of ads from businesses outside the
Mexican areas for products aimed at their Spanish-speaking readers.
Clothing, furniture, tobacco, hardware, construction tools, medicines,
Hollywood films and musical instruments brought in consistent adver-
tising revenue to Spanish-language newspapers and magazines. Making
purchases became easier by offering customers the option of paying in
installments or with long-term credit. Furniture, appliances, jewelry and
luxury or other costly items were made available to the working class-
es by providing a variety of credit programs. Albert often overheard the
Sun Construction workers comment on how they had purchased appli-
ances, clothes or jewelry on an installment plan or put a gift on layaway
River of Angels 121
for their girlfriends or wives. On payday they stopped at the stores to
make payments. Buying on time established credit with the Anglo, Jew-
ish and Mexican proprietors. A few stores offered just about anything
needed for the home, and also sold such luxuries as jewelry and expen-
sive watches for men and women.
Albert and Louises interest in Mexican Los Angeles continued as,
together, they explored the booming metropolis. But it was Sol, since
the time he saw Albert and Louise kiss at the Plaza, who eagerly intro-
duced them to the various sections of the city. He encouraged them not
to be afraid, because the people of the many ethnic neighborhoods were
good, friendly, generous and kind. Louise, like her mother, did not need
much encouragement to explore the ethnic neighborhoods. Albert and
Louise often accompanied Sol to eat at Mexican-owned restaurants, one
located next to the Plaza and one in East Los Angeles. From Sun Con-
structions Boyle Heights Yard, restaurants were at most ten to fifteen
minutes away. They enjoyed lunch at El Progreso, and they often dined
at La Paloma, places the owners claimed were the oldest restaurants in
the city, that cooked only with one-hundred-year-old recipes for the best
Mexican cuisine in Los Angeles. The restaurateurs perked up whenever
they saw Sol enter the door.
Sol had a way with people. They would do anything for him.
After lunch Sol sometimes took Albert and Louise to see a Mexi-
can movie at one of the theaters downtown, and they also went to see
American-made films starring Mexican or Latin stars who worked in
Hollywood. Ramn Novarro and Lupe Vlez were popular, but it was
Dolores del Ro who sparked the most interest among the Mexican pop-
ulation and Anglo movie-goers. Her success as a film star also brought
attention to Mexican intellectual activity. Mexican professionalsdoc-
tors, musicians, lawyers, scientists, artists and writerswere leaving
Mexico for Los Angeles in droves, in an effort to escape the violent and
politically charged environment south of the border. These profession-
als set up studios and offices to cater not only to the Mexican residents
but also to the Anglos and others who would contract them. They were
business directed, not ethnically driven.
The Librera Lozaro, a bookstore and center for ex-patriate Mexi-
can cultural activity, was one place where intellectuals gathered and
fomented intellectual and political activity. Sol, Albert, Louise and Alli-
son frequented this bookstore and other intellectual cauldrons. At the
Librera Lozaro, owned by Inojosa and Martita Lozaro, the Rivers and
122 Alejandro Morales
the Kellers encountered engaging writers, artists, scientists and intellec-
tuals from North and South America, and other parts of the world. The
Librera Lozaro was a site of dialogues between national and interna-
tional people from different walks of life living in or visiting Los Ange-
les. Here the attendees listened and responded. The Librera was a neu-
tral zone that welcomed discussions of all political and religious beliefs.
It was at the Librera Lozaro that Albert, Louise and Allison were
introduced to the avant-garde movements popular in Europe and Latin
America. At Bryn Mawr Allison had studied and met avant-garde artists
and poets. At her parents urging, Allison studied French, but she had an
interest in Spanish and also studied that similar Romance language right
up to her last year at the university. She believed that the European catas-
trophe of World War I was brought about by the corruption and failure of
the major western institutions to prevent the war. Skeptical of the nine-
teenth-century social and cultural models, of government, political,
social, religious powers, and of art itself that had brought the world to the
brink of annihilation, Allison questioned and considered that these insti-
tutions, philosophies and beliefs should be done away with as quickly as
possible. She believed in the power of human creativity and was open to
the diversity of thought, culture and race. Above all, she hated the sub-
jugation of women by men and their patriarchal, paternalistic models of
control. Women, she told her daughters and anyone who would listen,
should be free to vote and do whatever they want to do!
After Allison had settled her family in their new home, her chil-
drenLouise, Gloria and Emilyadjusted well to their school, and her
husband seemed relatively happy with his business. She had the energy
to confront Uncle Philip and his ideas of social and racial superiority.
Allison despised that kind of talk. The more Uncle Philip became
involved with the Southern California Aryan Club, the more he tried to
proselytize with his beliefs. He became more aggressive in insisting that
his nephews children hear and understand his message of superiority.
Now he openly accused Ernest and Allison of endangering their chil-
dren by allowing them to associate with the Mexican and Indian races.
On one occasion Uncle Philip, after a delicious Mexican dinner that
Allison had prepared, drank too much scotch and ended up drinking
shots of tequila. That evening Louise had gone out with Emily, Gloria,
Dame Marie and Albert to a movie theater in downtown Los Angeles.
Sol had driven them there and picked them up. The three girls returned
home about eight in the evening.
River of Angels 123
When Louise and her sisters entered the house, Uncle Philip asked
Louise, Why are you associating with that Mexican mongrel?
Louise stood frozen by the question and by Uncle Philips tone of
voice. Emily and Gloria held each other while Uncle Philip raised his
voice again.
Those people arent good enough for you. They will only ruin
your reputation. They are violent, unpredictable and promiscuous.
Dont associate with that boy. He is no good. Louise, he will ruin you!
Uncle Philip approached Louise, reaching for her in a pleading
way. His face begged her to listen. He truly loved his niece. He stum-
bled to his knees, stunned, disoriented and once more reached out to
Louise.
Ernest and Allison quickly helped him up, steadied him and sat him
down on the nearest chair. Allison went to her daughters, who were in
tears, calmed them down and took them to the kitchen. She put a tea-
spoon of sugar in their mouths and prepared hot chocolate. When it was
ready, she poured a cup of the chocolate for each of her daughters. Once
she was sure they were not afraid or in shock, Allison returned to the
living room; there she could hear Ernest arguing with his Uncle Philip.
At the moment Allison entered, Uncle Philip ceased arguing with
his nephew and, without hesitation, began to scold Allison as if he had
complete authority over her.
I want you to stop being permissive with my nieces. I dont want
my nieces to see any of the Rivers children. They are not who you think
they are! Oakley is not one of us! He is a Mexican, an Indian, a half-
breed, and so are his children. You, Allison, are the laughing stock of the
Aryan Club. You should have given us boys, at least one boy child!
Damn it! Damn you, Allison!
Stop this! Silence! Shut up, Philip! Ernest covered Uncle Philips
mouth with a hand.
Keep your hands off me! I can send you packing back to Philadel-
phia! I can fire you, Ernest!
Philip! Philip! Allison raised her voice. She went directly to the
man and faced him eye to eye. Philip, I want you not to forget what I
am going to say. I will say it only once.
She paused and looked at her husband.
Thank you for bringing us to Los Angeles. Now, listen to me very
carefully. You will never yell at my children or me ever again! You will
never again tell me how to raise my children! You are family, but you do
124 Alejandro Morales
not own this house. Remember, you are a guest in my house! Also, if
you want to fire Ernest, go ahead. Just be assured that the business will
collapse without him. For over a year, well over a year, you havent
done one thing to assist him in the business. It has grown, and he has
made it profitable because of contracts and connections he has made.
Fire Ernest and you will lose everything! Not only will you lose the
small portion of the business that supports you and that allows you to
keep your status, but you will lose your familyus, all of us. Go home.
Sober up.
The next time you come to visit, and its up to you if you want to
come back, do not raise your voice to Ernest or any of the girls, and
especially not to me! And no more racist hate-talk in my home, never
again in my house! If you truly love the girls like you say you do, you
will remember what Ive said. Good night, Uncle Philip!
With that, Allison went into the kitchen where she heard her daugh-
ters laughing with Ernestina.
Ernest drove Uncle Philip to his home in Beverly Hills. He helped
him to the door. Marco, Uncle Philips friend, who had moved in short-
ly after Uncle Philips wife died, assisted Ernest in carrying Uncle
Philip to the nearest couch, which was in Uncle Philips study. Ernest
sat down at the desk where his uncle worked. The desk was covered
with articles and pamphlets on Aryanism. Ernest perused the documents
that contained theories and scientific jargon justifying the Aryan race
as the superior race of mankind. Most of the publications authors were
prominent professionals. Ernest read several short articles filled with
hatred for Africans, Jews, Asians and Mexicans. Distracted, he looked
up, saw Marco give Philip water and clean his face with a damp cloth.
In the soft light, Uncle Philip held on to Marco. As they whispered,
Ernest thought he saw Marco caress Philip.
Suddenly Marco realized that Ernest was still there at Philips desk.
He gently made Philip sit up. Ernest moved quickly toward the front door.
Ernest, wait!
As his nephew drove carefully out of the circular driveway, not just
the hateful literature . . . but disturbing images kept trespassing into his
mind. Ernest drove the long way home trying to understand all that had
happened that night. As he arrived home, everything appeared normal in
his house in Hancock Park, where Allison waited to open the door.
THE WARM SUNLIGHT gave a healthy glow to Alberts face. An inter-
mittent breeze wrapped his cardinal-and-gold tie round his neck as he
River of Angels 125
posed smiling in the middle of the second row of a group of forty stu-
dents, including three women, just before the photographer yelled, Say
cheese! The engineering department now numbered two civil engineer-
ing professors, although one, Dr. John Boyer, taught both mechanical
and civil engineering. Only Professor Promantz taught civil engineering
exclusively. The class gathered, as tradition required, in front of the
Coordinance House, where most classes and laboratories were housed.
Albert felt very comfortable in the middle of these mostly white
Anglo-Saxon Protestant young men. There were several black-eyed and
black-haired German nationals. Although Albert was darker skinned, he
did not stand out as that different, not like the three women engineering
students who were teased and pestered constantly. Most of the men
made it a point to make the women feel physically uncomfortable,
embarrassed and intimidated. The women did not know what to expect
next from the male students. The mens goal was to make the female
students break down, crack under the pressure. The ultimate prize, the
crown of their male efforts and outright harassment was to bring forth
tears and frustration from their women colleagues. Which one would
make it, which one would survive, Albert wondered, standing in the
middle of the second row.
For the three women, posing for the University of Southern Cali-
fornias School of Engineering annual photograph was torture. The
male students, the boys as they called themselves in a forgiving way,
did everything they could get away with, that and much more, to make
it so miserable that the women would not show up to class or would run
out of a class upset. Today Albert surveyed the group and located his
female colleagues: Elana Soblac to his left, Susan Dearnold to his right
and tiny but brainy Alia Riverside holding a surveyors tripod in front of
her. It was a wonderful fact, although hard to believe, that the Universi-
ty of Southern California was famous for having awarded the first engi-
neering professional degrees to women in 1922.
Here goes! Ready!
Could Louise survive in this horrible anti-female environment? All
the abuse and teasing she would have to take, Albert thought, as he shaped
his lips into a smile, waiting for the photographers final instruction.
Say cheese!
Albert walked away by himself from the Coordinance House, not
because he wanted to avoid anyone but because he enjoyed walking
through the campus by himself. On the way to his truck he passed the
126 Alejandro Morales
building where the Southern California Aryan Club met. USC gave the
club meeting rooms and large lecture halls for events that attracted
numerous participants. The number of followers became bigger and
bigger. Uncle Philip was deeply involved with the leaders of this group.
He believed in their philosophy, supported them financially and pro-
moted their racial theories. He called the younger men sons, sons of
the organization. Sometimes when they had a meeting, Albert got in
close enough to hear the speaker, or the organizations president, or
their USC friends talk disparagingly about Negroes, Mexicans, Indians,
Jews, any group that they had declared inferior. They condemned any
group new to the area that did not fit their vision of what Los Angeles
should be. The speakers insisted that they talked from the point of view
of city planners, of caretakers of the future of Los Angeles, because Los
Angeles was the City of the Future. They argued that it was commer-
cially and residentially wise to section off specific areas of Los Angeles
for the inferior groups.
We dont want inferior races, Negroes, drunken Indians, lazy Mex-
icans or the like near us, near where we live!
Albert was beginning to understand why Uncle Sol had been advis-
ing him to be careful, to be wary of people who are educated and who
should know better but who are filled with hate for other human beings.
The Aryan Club members, and men and women like them, wished to
eliminate all races except their own white race. At the University of
Southern California, Albert received an excellent engineering educa-
tion, but every day it hosted forces that practiced overt prejudice, dis-
crimination and racism. What would his fellow students do? Albert had
seen some of the men who followed Uncle Philip, and he knew of other
men, some of the boys group, who attended the Southern California
Aryan Club gatherings. They knew that he was a mixed breed, but he
thought they respected his intelligence, his high academic standing in
the class. Students sought Albert out for his tutoring and even his per-
sonal advice. Lately, however there had been some rude comments and
slurs for Albert to hearquestions about his fathers ancestry, his engi-
neering credentials, his ethnicity and racial identity. In the remarks peo-
ple made, Albert recognized Uncle Philips beliefs, his ugly words
repeatedly spoken to the Kellers about Oakley Rivers. Uncle Philip for
years had expressed his racist ideas and suspicions about Alberts father,
about who this successful Los Angeles businessman really was. Uncle
River of Angels 127
Philip was now convinced that Alberts father was an imposter, a mon-
grel product engendered from inferior human stock.
Albert was not worried. Instead he felt a great disappointment in his
fellow students. He experienced disenchantment and deep sadness for
many of these bright young men. But even more intense in his mind was
the thought that Louise had expressed an interest in becoming an engi-
neer to help her father with Keller Construction Company. He had no
doubt that she could handle the academic work, but the vicious teasing
about her being in a mans profession worried him. He knew that the
male students would not let up. Maybe she could deal with the classroom
pranks and banter, but when she went out in the field? Could she handle
the physical part, the pushing and shoving, these men forcing her to carry
more than her designated load? Worse yet, how would she deal with the
ugly groping? How would he deal with it? He would not be with her all
the time. He would not be able to protect her. Yet Louise can defend her-
self, Albert thought. Louise will probably do just fine. No doubt shell be
accepted, with her Uncle Philip now on the USC Board of Trustees. Yet,
Albert was sure that his fellow students would complain bitterly that the
women students were taking the mens slots. Men are the bread winners;
they should get the education and the jobs they need.
Shell be married and pregnant in no time.
Albert could just about hear the boys protest.
The bottom line is economicswomen are a bad educational
investment!
The male students logic went on: Parents, usually fathers, pay for an
expensive education that their daughters will use when changing diapers.
Laughter filled the lecture rooms and laboratories of the University
of Southern Californias School of Engineeringat the womens
expense.
The chance that Louise would elect to study a mans profession
excited Allison and made her very proud. She wanted her daughters to
receive the very best education the family could afford. Money really
was not her concern. For the moment it was the relationship that Louise
had with Albert that most concerned her. She had seen them walking,
holding hands in the garden. They kissed innocently, not concerned
about anyone observing them. Albert held Louises head tenderly while
their lips met again and again. That afternoon Allison no longer saw in
Louise and Albert the children who had grown up together. They were
adults now, maybe not their minds completely, but certainly their bod-
128 Alejandro Morales
ies. She understood that they could not resist one another forever, that
they could not remain celibate for much longer. She was being realistic.
She recognized what a wonderful couple her beautiful daughter and
handsome Albert Rivers made.
On that afternoon, observing those young bodies happily walking
to the bench under a large pepper tree in the back garden, Allisons wor-
ries intensified, aware of how Uncle Philip would react to a public dec-
laration of her daughters love for Albert Rivers. How ugly Uncle Philip
would make it seem. The alcohol made him speak ugly thoughts, she
thought, as she watched Albert and Louise stroll along the street toward
their neighbor Walter Simons blue brick house. Together, Louise and
Albert were picture perfect, she thought, as the young couple disap-
peared into Alberts house. She had allowed them to spend too much
time alone together. How could she have allowed that to happen?
Agatha and I are both guilty of this. Allison nodded and felt annoyed at
what had resulted from her liberal behavior toward Louise. They both
had realized what might happen. What they found to be cute at first now
became an adult reality. Their children had fallen in love, but how far
along in love had they advanced? Had they started a sexual relationship?
Oh my God, my poor baby girl, what have I done? Agatha, what have
we allowed to happen? We toyed with their lives, their bodies; like
porcelain dolls we put them together because they fit so well, because
they matched so nicely, because they made such a cute couple as chil-
dren, but they grew up, became a man and woman before our eyes,
before we realized that it had happened! Are we in time to stop the
inevitable? If I prevent Louise from seeing Albert, it would seem so
contradictory after years of pushing them together. I dont want to make
them suffer, to get them angry at me, at us. Its too late to pull them
apart. Louise would rebel. My little girl, the young woman she has
become, knows how to defend what she wants. She knows how to stand
alone. To pull them apart would cause great scandal and probably ugly
rumors by attempting to explain why Albert and Louise were forbidden
to see each other. The families would be scandalized in the public eye.
We would all become fodder for ridicule and gossip. The only person
who would benefit is Uncle Philip, who continuously warns us about
our children getting too close to the Rivers family. Albert and Louises
relationship might cause us, their mothers, to eat crow.
UNCLE SOL, LOUISE, Dame Marie, Gloria, Albert and Emily leaned
forward around the one-hundred-foot tower, stared up through the thou-
River of Angels 129
sands of open geometrical spaces formed by the myriad steel cables
wrapped with wire mesh, tied with wire and covered with cement
encrusted with millions of colored pieces of glass, mirrors, seashells,
rocks, ceramic tile, pottery and marble.
Can you climb it? Emily asked, still looking up.
Nobody gets up there, only Mr. Rodia.
These towers are amazing! Theyre solidand in the middle of
this neighborhood! Louise added.
So many colors! Dame Marie passed her fingers over the intricate
mosaic design on the base of the tower.
He is a natural engineer. Why did he build them here on this odd-
shaped lot, To?
Because I want to make something big on this funny lot,
answered a short man in overalls who went to Uncle Sol and embraced
him. The man laughed while shaking Sols hand.
Sol, you finally drove the family over here. Che ragazze belle,
Sol! He went over to each of the girls, hugged them and showed them
to another site on the property.
This strong boy is your nephew, Albert. Ben venuto, figlio!
Simon Rodia had met Sol when he ventured to the River Mothers
home, wanting to explore the site. The day Rodia found her dwelling,
the River Mother and Sol were struggling to place seven chairs and two
dining tables high above the living room section of the house. The River
Mother tossed up the last of the chairs to her son, Sol, who grabbed the
chair and made his way, carefully selecting where to place his foot to
ascend the sturdy curving wall made of thousands of objects they had
rescued from the river. She climbed down from a ledge she had con-
structed, from table tops and iron bed frames, where she could rest new
river gifts before situating them in their place in the construction. The
River Mother immediately took to Simon Rodia and offered him tea and
cookies. For about an hour they commented on the river and the house.
She spoke in Spanish, and he engaged in Italian and in English. Some-
how they communicated, often laughing. Finally, Sol came down from
the wall of the entanglements to meet the visitor. Sol offered his hand;
Rodia took it and embraced and kissed Sol on each cheek.
Mile grazie, Rodia responded to the warm hospitality offered to
him by the River Mother and Sol. A genuine acceptance was exchanged
between the three, and from that day on Simon Rodia, the River Moth-
er and Sol enjoyed a long-lasting friendship that would bring Rodia
130 Alejandro Morales
back to the River Mothers house to see her and Sol and also to study
the incongruent architecture she employed.
Rodia, who had built the two towers, was born in 1879 in the Cam-
pagna region of Southern Italy. Rodias family farmed a small parcel of
land that required Simon and his sister to work long hours. Simon prob-
ably did not receive any schooling and probably could not read. It is
unclear why at around the age of fourteen he came to America. From
Campagna he had walked and rode on public carts to Naples, where he
joined a group of twelve children escorted by Benedictine nuns destined
for New York. While in Naples he often snuck away from the Benedic-
tine eye to explore the great historical layers of the city: on the surface
lay a modern city, and underground the Roman and Greek cities. Young
Rodia was astonished at the magnificent buildings, plazas, gardens,
palaces and churches in Naples. He marveled at the towering obelisks
built throughout Naples. They became his points of reference and
remained in his mind as both monuments and landmarks of the won-
drous city. The twelve children steamed away from the port of Naples
on a freighter overloaded with barrels of wine, olive oil and tons of
pasta. The ship traveled to Palermo, Cagliari, Sardinia and Valencia,
then to Mlaga and Cdiz. In the month the ship took to arrive at Cdiz,
Rodia made friends with the eleven children he traveled with. The
Benedictine sisters evaluated the childrens reading, writing and mathe-
matics skills and provided daily instruction in these areas. For Simon
this was his first and only schooling. In Cdiz, half of the children
stayed. Simon and five companions with two nuns sailed on a Por-
tuguese freighter to the Canary Islands and then to New York.
Simon Rodia was processed through the Ellis Island Immigration
Center relatively fast and then was taken by the two nuns to a Catholic
church in Little Italy, where he was taken in by two parishioners from
Vietri, Italy. Vietri, a small town neighboring Salerno on the Amalfi
Coast, was famous for its pottery. The people who took Simon in were
ceramicists. They owned and operated a small ceramics shop where
they produced and sold ceramic bowls, dishes, cups and pitchers. Simon
worked as an apprentice in the familys business for two years; then he
decided to go west. He worked his way to the coal fields of Pennsylva-
nia, where he labored for five years. The work was hard, but worse was
the constant cough he developed from the fine coal dust, the cold and
dampness from the pits and mines. Although at times he worked in con-
stant darkness from morning until night, he always had his thoughts on
River of Angels 131
the setting sun. Like the obelisks in Naples, the setting sun was a con-
stant image that pursued him while awake and asleep. One afternoon
after getting his pay, he went to his room in the bachelors quarters,
packed a small duffel bag and followed the sun to the West Coast. The
year was 1900, the dawn of a new century, when Rodia arrived in San
Francisco, where love caught him, and a year later he was married. He
remained in San Francisco with his wife, had two boys and worked in
what seemed to be never-ending construction. Everywhere he looked
there was a house, a building, a bridge, streets, parks being constructed.
He saved his money and sent funds to his sister and her husband. The
couple eventually came to Southern California.
His journey from Italy, across seas and oceans, and cities and coun-
tries, and the architectural monuments he viewed, stirred in him a desire
to build something of his own. Make something big, he would always
say. He wanted to make something that would record his presence in this
world, leave his signature on earth, a construction that reflected his sim-
ple origins, his fantastic voyage through life, his labor with his hands and
his imagination. He wanted to form his creation with discarded objects
and broken pieces that seemingly had no value. Perhaps deep in his
heart, Simon Rodia considered himself a person thrown away, discarded,
forgotten, even though he had a wife, sons, a sister and people who
acknowledged him with respect and care. He felt alone. Simon collected
broken pieces of colored glass, tile and steel cable. He sought salvage,
torn bags of cement and wooden planks from construction sites. With
this colorful material he began to build swirling towers up toward the
sky, perhaps desiring to connect to another world somewhere.
Albert considered Simon an artist, an architect, an engineer, a
genius. Albert just knew he was. Simon had no architectural plan on
paper. He did intuitive construction. His neighbors here in Los Ange-
leswhere he bought an odd triangular-shaped lot in 1921liked the
small, delicate man who some greeted with good morning in Italian,
others in Spanish, some in German or French. Simon learned a little
Chinese and Japanese. He shared a garden with several African-Ameri-
can families who, in turn, taught him Southern cooking. Simon enjoyed
their company, their food and their families. The intricacy and the
diverse colors in the structures he built mirrored his relationship with
his neighbors, who, like him, came from a distant place in the world. He
assembled a map of Watts, of Los Angeles, of the country, of the world
132 Alejandro Morales
as he experienced each throughout his life and beyond time. He entitled
his masterpiece in Spanish, Nuestro Pueblo, our community.
Neighbors often walked by to say hello and to see how far the little
Italian guy had advanced on his towers. Neighbors arrived with bottles
of wine and glasses for Rodia, and soon after brought hot food. In Los
Angeles he lived by himself. He seldom spoke about his family. He said
very little about anything. He would rather work than talk. There were
moments, when friends like Sol visited, that Rodia opened up and
revealed his past history. He became very close to the Mexican families
who lived next to him and who praised his work and encouraged him to
keep building his dream, because they saw him as a man driven to cre-
ate, because it came from somewhere deep inside him.
IT SEEMED THAT at times the Santa Ana winds came only to wipe
pure the face of the sky and reveal magnificent views of the city of the
future: Los Angeles as seen from the highest points of Boyle Heights,
not far from the Sun Construction Yard. Albert and Louise, in a compa-
ny truck, had parked in an empty lot facing west. They could see as far
away as Santa Monica.
Thats the ocean, Louise!
It cant be. The beach is too far.
Its far, but you can see it from here. And look at our bridge, its
beautiful, Albert said, pointing to the First Street bridge. Its almost
finished.
Louise turned an admiring look at the structure.
I bet the views from the bridge tower are prettier than from here,
Albert said as he ignited the engine and pressed the gas pedal to drive
over to the foot of the bridge platform.
Situated in the middle of the river, there was very little water run-
ning around the platformor tower, as most people called it. In the
middle of the imposing platform the bridge finally joined and connect-
ed the west and east sides of Los Angeles. On this Sunday afternoon two
watchmen patrolled the construction site. They both recognized Albert,
but they didnt know or care who accompanied him. As Albert climbed,
following Louise up to the top of the tower, one of the watchmen drove
by slowly and told him to be careful: Ten cuidado, muchacho!
Louise stopped ascending the ladder and looked out beyond the
rivers edge. Water flowed on the west side through a control canal. She
stared down at Albert and climbed further up until she and Albert
River of Angels 133
reached a seven-foot ledge, where they waited for a strong gust of wind
to pass by. They kissed and stood there holding each other before
ascending to a higher ledge, about fifty feet above the rivers shallow
water. Holding on to each other they could easily stay safe. Maybe
someday they would walk to the source of the river, to its origin, to its
birth. How wonderful to see its birth.
Louise started to ascend the steel-rail ladder built into the concrete
wall. They had to climb about thirty feet higher to a service area that had
another steel ladder that led to the first flat surface, the bed on which the
bridge would be connected. Once there, unencumbered views awaited
them. As Louise took the first step upward her heart rate rose. Her foot
slipped.
Dont look down. Climb, were almost there!
As they approached the square opening to the top, the wall curved
and merged with the thick platform table above them. Louise grabbed a
steel bar and pulled herself inside the ten-foot-long square opening to
what seemed the top of the world. Albert watched her quickly disappear,
swallowed up by the clear blue sky above. He scurried up to catch her.
With his head just above the opening to the surface, Albert looked
about, but he could not see Louise. For seconds he froze.
Were you scared? Silly! Im right behind you.
Louise spun round and round, her hair floating in the wind. Albert
went to her and, with an embrace, held her still and kissed her. They
kissed again. Still in Alberts arms, Louise turned her body to face west
to scan the horizon beyond the rising City of Angels. From where they
stood the view extended out to the ocean and to the Santa Monica
mountains, to San Pedros developing ports and harbor, south to the
Montebello Hills, east to the San Bernardino Mountains and down to
the beautiful river struggling to shrug off the concrete slabs that
attempted to control its edges, its natural flow and currents, trying to
hold it back from its natural meandering to the ocean. In the rivers nat-
ural path a few debris basins, short flood-control channels and small
dams had been constructed to divert its water away from the city.
Albert and Louise took in the view, breathed each other in deeply
and exhaled. They did not quite understand what was happening to
them. Their hands rushed to help each other remove the clothes that
bound their bodies. A hand released Louises garments. Albert stepped
away from his clothes. The sweet wind whirled around them. There was
no return, nothing to stop them now. They kissed, and slowly their lips
134 Alejandro Morales
and tongues roamed the nature of one anothers smooth skin. Louise felt
no longer afraid of what she did for her astonished Albert, who opened
his mouth wide, wanting to swallow all of her. Alone, above all living
beings, they celebrated, now coupled in each other.
Let this be forever, Albert, Louise whispered.
Their minds and muscles moved systematically, strong intensity
growing inside them. Louise raised her hips a little higher, meeting his.
Their love at first had been for them, but now their shared love and that
madding sensation made them both look down between their bodies to
where they were joined, working, pushing to pass through one anothers
body. Albert arched his back, lying on the smooth cement; Louise squat-
ted, taking him inside her. She smiled and kissed the thin skin of his
eyelids; her mouth joined his. Time had ceasedonly they existed for
each other. As he coaxed her onto her knees and gently pushed her head
forward, Louise turned to see Albert pushing into her. She resisted his
strong steady body, she tightened around him, holding him within her,
letting go and again desperately timing the moment to squeeze around
him, until suddenly his breathing became her name. He repeated her
name over and over as she shook her hair.
Im here, Albert. Im here!
A warmth came in and upon her, a slight surprise and a grin formed
on her lips as she saw Alberts hands reach forward, his body tenderly
collapsing, rolling to her side. They held on to each other, reached for
their clothes, covering themselves as best they could. Albert and Louise
slept on a modern concrete porcincula over the Los Angeles River: an
islet, a small piece of land, a porcinculathe original name given to
the river by the Franciscan friars in honor of the tiny church where the
order had originated in Italy.
After a while, Louise suddenly raised her head. What if I get preg-
nant? she whispered into Alberts ear.
With his eyes closed, Albert smiled and fell into a peaceful slumber.
AFTER THE END of World War I, the United States went into a spiri-
tual rebirth, experienced the euphoria of a growing economy, of a
booming industry and of highly productive construction companies
building thousands of homes for hard-working Angelinos. With so
much business activity, people felt secure in their jobs, in their homes
and neighborhoods. Peace and prosperity, driven by advanced new tech-
nologies such as telephone and radio communications, connected the
River of Angels 135
city to the county to the state to the country to the world. The automo-
bile allowed the working man to travel long distances. The car was a
traveling machine and, in a pinch, could be used as a home. All was not
work in the post-war country, as leisure time increased and the film,
radio and recording industries entertained the residents of growing
cities like Los Angeles.
This economic boom was measured by the stock market. Immedi-
ately after the war, stocks began to climb slowly, and as more people
expressed confidence in the economy, they climbed to record levels. By
the middle of the Roaring Twentiesbaptized as such by stock
investorsthe Dow Jones Industrial Average had soared to all-time
highs. Investors bought stocks based on the economists and bankers
claims that to purchase stocks was to invest in the growing strength of
the United States of America. Buying stocks was pitched as a safe invest-
ment because the experts saw no end to the surging American economy.
People had developed so much confidence that they started to buy stocks
on margin: borrowing money on the stocks they owned to buy more
stocks. If the stock they purchased dropped in value, the margin investor
could lose the original investment plus owe money to the brokerage com-
pany. To buy on margin, to speculate on stock prices rising or falling, was
risky business, but this losing scenario was far from the minds of portfo-
lio managers, let alone stockholders, who saw that buying on margin
enabled new or growing companies to get funding and made portfolios
double, triple or go even higher in a matter of months!
As the word spread that in the stock market even the common
laborer could make a bundle, market trading became epidemic. Ameri-
cans could not get to the stockbroker fast enough to make that sure
killing. Since the money earned was not enough, without hesitation they
withdrew their savings, mortgaged their homes and borrowed to invest
in the guaranteed profit from stocks and other financial instruments rec-
ommended by brokers and bankers. Some stock market investors did
not know in exactly what they were investing their money. Ignorant
about the workings of stocks and the market, they simply relied on the
experts who conveyed the frenzy and greed that was overtaking the
finance culture. People had faith in the United States and believed that
their countrys stocks would always go up. Nobody warned them of
economic downturns or stock market crashes. The Roaring Twenties
would last forever was what they understood from the financial wizards
who reassured investors that their money was safe and that the eco-
136 Alejandro Morales
nomic boom had no end in sight. A few, a very few claimed to see signs
on the horizon of a fast-coming economic apocalypse. Americans kept
putting their money into big, renowned corporations: Ford, RCA,
Heather Pharmaceuticals, US Steel, General Petroleum and others.
One of the most aggressive promoters of and investors in the stock
market was Philip Keller. He listened to his friends in the Southern Cali-
fornia Aryan Club who, for the most part, were themselves major stock-
holders in large companies. These men were bullish on the market and
had invested hundreds of thousands, even millions of their personal
wealth. The majority of the members believed that with their wealth they
could control the growth, social order and racial development of Los
Angeles. They often liquidated a portion of the many properties they
owned in the city and converted the funds into fast-rising stocks, and they
were successful with their trades, most of the time. The club members
were riding high on multimillion-dollar portfolios that kept growing.
Often the members brought news of parts of their portfolios or individual
stock records to share with their colleagues in the club. They offered each
other tips on hot stocks and companies that were on the verge of moving
up in value, of breaking out and at least doubling in price. On any given
day they held millions in stock, accumulated by using margin accounts,
sworn to as secure investments by their personal stock analysts in Los
Angeles and in New York. Philip Keller always listened. He was like a
child, seen but not heard. He was silent because he really did not know
much about the stock market and how to invest in it, and he was eager to
hear which stocks his Aryan Club friends were investing in. After these
meetings, Philip Keller went to Ernests home, excited to share the hot tip
with his nephew, who cautioned him to be careful.
Yet Philip insisted, I know that most of the club is buying this
stock tomorrow. You know that my friends do not invest where there is
a chance of loss.
By 1928, Philip Keller, refusing to listen to Ernests warnings, had
invested roughly eighty-five percent of his personal wealth in stocks.
Separate from his money and investments, he still had twenty-five per-
cent interest in the Keller Construction Company, after having given
Ernest, Allison and their children controlling interest in the company,
which had merged with the former Keller Lumber. Under Ernests man-
agement the company had prospered and was worth millions in equip-
ment, inventory, contracts and capital. Ernest had not only developed
the company into a large lumber distributor but had also created a con-
River of Angels 137
struction component considered a major player in the Los Angeles
building industry. For some time, Ernest had administered the business
independently of his uncle and had been planning to buy his uncles
shares. The more Ernest learned about Uncle Philips beliefs and private
life, the less he trusted him. Nonetheless, Ernest never lost respect for
his uncle, nor would he ever deny him access to his house and family.
Allison became less patient with Philip, an unhappy bigot too wealthy
for his own good.
About the time Oakley and Ernest won the contracts to work on
bridges at First Street, Fourth Street and Lorena Street, the euphoria of
financial success was at its highest point in Los Angeles and in the coun-
try. Leonard Adam Banac, Agathas father, made an appointment to meet
Oakley and Ernest together. Oakleys father-in-law came right to the
point and advised them not to get swept up by the stock market craze.
At the bank, were moving assets from stocks to cash. Our stock
holding will be minimal, ten percent at most. At the moment stocks are
grossly overvalued, and soon interest rates will begin to rise. Once this
happens, the bear will start stirring, causing stocks to come down. I dont
know when or how fast, but they will come down. I just have a strong
feeling about this. Im not sure, but I suspect that theres not enough
money in circulation to cover the paper banks are holding. It may not, but
if the stock market crashes and there is a rush on the banks to cover
clients accounts, the banks will close their doors. Im advising our bank
to convert our holdings to cash and advising our depositors and financial
investors to do the same. Im not taking the chance of losing our paper
gains. If a crash occurs, I want our bank and us to be cash rich. Ernest,
you might want to be firm with your uncle. Follow my strategy.
Oakley and Agatha took Leonard Banacs counsel and liquidated
their stock portfolio. The American National Bank of Los Angeles made
sure that all depositors accounts were covered with hard cash. Many of
the banks clients resisted Banacs advice. Some called him crazy and
took their accounts and/or portfolios elsewhere. Mr. Banac informed
stockholders that if and when stocks started to collapse in value, they
would be difficult to sell; accordingly, the bank would not pay full price
at the time of sale, and also a sale transaction fee would be added. On a
printed sheet, information was given to customers entering the bank and
offered again upon exiting.
Ernest Keller was at first hesitant to heed Banacs suggestions, but
after talking with Allison, he too sold his stocks and held cash only, a
138 Alejandro Morales
move that Uncle Philip considered unreasonable. Uncle Philip did not
listen to his nephew, nor to his live-in friend Marco, who repeated the
warning that the fast pace to riches by way of the stock market would
not last forever. Philip called him a doom-monger, a term he picked up
from the exuberant investors at the Aryan Club. Giving no explanation,
Marco packed his bags and left the house, leaving Philip rich and alone.
After losing Marco, Uncle Philip committed himself to his associates at
the Southern California Aryan Club, where he accumulated a large
monthly bar tab and bought more stocks on margin. His nephew had
reminded him again about Leonard Banacs advice, but Uncle Philip
would not take recommendations from a man who had allowed his
daughter to date a half-breed Mexican Indian.
Uncle Philips stock portfolio grew to millions of dollars, and, as it
did, his confidence in his decision to stay fully invested in the stock
market seemed justified. Driven by bitterness, greed and stubbornness,
Uncle Philip stayed the course, drinking bootlegged liquor and swal-
lowing the nativist philosophy of the Southern California Aryan Club.
Meanwhile, he noticed that Allison hardly talked to him, that Ernest sel-
dom sought him out and that his nephews daughters seemed to be
afraid of him. He blamed these attitudes on Albert, because through him
came the influence, wealth and power of Oakley and Agatha Rivers and
her family, the Banacs. When Uncle Philip visited his nephews house,
his stomach turned at the sight of Albert with Louise at his side. He con-
tinued to warn Ernest that Albert would ruin Louise and that Ernest had
to prevent them from seeing each other. Allison and Ernest cut him off
when they had heard enough. Uncle Philip would cease talking, aware
that Allison would ask him to leave the house if he persisted. For Ernest
and the familys sake, Allison still made the effort to maintain a shred
of respect and civility toward the sickly-looking Uncle Philip. Allison
noticed that he was smoking more than usual, eating very little, drink-
ing too much and losing weight. As he boasted about his financial
investments and how his portfolio had grown, Uncle Philips body
seemed to be withering away.
Uncle Philip Keller would fall into silence as he observed his nieces.
He watched them to a point where the girls felt his eyes on them. They
would turn to see him, and hed smile at their acknowledgment. For an
instant, hed forget the outside world, and for an instant, with their eye
contact, his life would be filled with the joy of them. It was extraordinary
how much the girls read, how smart they were. Louise read book after
River of Angels 139
book. When he visited the house, he often found Louise reading, con-
centrating on her task so much that she did not notice him in the room.
Occasionally, after ringing the doorbell several times, he would enter
when nobody answered and walk into rooms, calling out names until he
found someone. If they saw him first theyd say hello, but it happened
many times over that hed walk into a room where a member of the fam-
ily sat so deeply engrossed in a book that they did not notice or sense his
presence. He would stand hypnotized until they interrupted his gaze.
This happened more and more, but monitoring the girls was not his
only preoccupation. Uncle Philip Kellers behavior became strange,
eccentric, and this included his obsession with racial purity. Just about
every day he met with members of the Southern California Aryan Club,
often with members who had returned from Germany with reports of
what was happening there. He learned that new philosophies to make
the world a better place for all humanity were being developed in Ger-
many. He admired the German people for wanting to make their coun-
try purely Aryan, a country for Germans only. He donated money to
bring speakers from Europe to inform the club about the political pow-
ers that were mobilizing Germany and, eventually, all of Europe. As he
learned more, he became bolder and was convinced that he had to shep-
herd his family away from influences that were ruinous to their purity.
He would visit his nephews home to watch over Louise, who in his
mind was being led astray by her parents relationship with the Rivers
family. Louise was taken aback by her uncles behavior, his monitoring
of her attitudes and actions, where she spent her time and with whom.
Uncle Philip was sure that Ernest and Allison Keller and their girls
were being ruined by Oakley and Agatha Banac Rivers and their chil-
dren. He had to do something before the family was beyond salvation.
Louise was in the greatest danger, in love with the half-breed Albert
Rivers. Alone and desperate, Uncle Philip felt compelled to do some-
thing to prevent her violation by Alberts polluted blood. Now, when he
came to visit, he searched for Louise, to study her body. He prayed to
the Almighty that her figure had not changed.
Finally, Allison confronted him, told him to stop sneaking in to spy
on the girls. What is happening to you? Lately you have been acting
crazy. Stop it, or dont set foot in this house again.
No matter, Uncle Philip continued to observe his nieces closely. It
was his duty to protect them, to somehow keep Albert Rivers and Louise
apart. This became his mission in life. After all, he had brought her
140 Alejandro Morales
father and mother to the West. They could have stayed in Philadelphia
and never have been exposed to these human aberrations. To him, his
brother in Philadelphia had entrusted Ernest and Allison as well as the
children they were destined to bear.
Now, with his wealth, he was able to protect them even more by
contracting men, recommended highly by club members, to be his eyes,
to follow and observe Ernest and Allison, and the girls. They could not
escape him now. They were under his view at all hours. Every day he
imagined where they were, what they did. Uncle Philips hired eyes
came to him and described in detail what they had seen. And what they
had seen, in particular what Albert and Louise did, was most disturbing.
As a member of the Aryan community, Philip did not believe in curses,
but he had to take seriously the reports from his agents. Louise and her
parents were victims of a kind of curse, a spell that only could happen
in these parts of the country, where mongrel peoples and cultures
believed in devils and spirits. The spell moved those he loved further
away from him, and his riches could not conquer that growing distance.
FOR ALMOST A year and six months, the people from the edges of the
Los Angeles River watched the ascension of the two majestic bridges
that spanned the fickle river. In the view of many, the new bridges were
friendly creations that allowed them to cross the river when it decided
to be a river and its water ran swiftly, steadily lapping at its highest
edges, threatening to overrun its borders and flood areas for miles. The
curious often brought lunch and sat or parked in their cars to watch the
intricate construction of the bridges. The workmen walked high on the
bridge trestles, climbed like spiders the webs of scaffolding that covered
the tall concrete towers. Some workers waved back at the picnickers
gathered on the river banks. Artists carved out the sculptured images on
the concrete decorative panels along the bridge walls high across the
river bed. The nearby Boyle Heights residents seemed to take pride in
the building of its nearby bridge. They developed a kind of joy of own-
ership by living so close to such a magnificent architectural structure.
Slowly the cranes came down, were loaded onto flatbed trucks and
hauled away. When the scaffolding fell away, the tractors and trucks
were gone, leaving only tire tread marks deep in the dried mud. The
crews no longer crawled over what ascended from one day to another,
upward to the sky; it was as if it had stood there always. The Fourth
Street bridge was complete, decorated at its beginning and end with
River of Angels 141
large red, white and blue ribbons and flags. Torches and kerosene lights
burned all night, while a stage was built on the west side of the bridge
that had been completed ahead of schedule.
The bridges opening ceremony was a festive event for the City of
Los Angeles, the city council, the mayor, city administrators, prominent
families and business owners on both sides of the river that the bridge
brought together. The workers and neighbors came to the all-day street
carnival around the stage and in the streets near the west side of the
bridge. From both sides of the river, people kept coming to share in the
festivities. The mayor, county administrators and railroad officials cut a
red, shiny silk ribbon, and a few short speeches were made, after which
the mayor introduced the builder, the president of Keller Construction,
Mr. Ernest Keller.
I want to thank the city, county and railroad, and especially the
people of Los Angeles for making the Fourth and Lorena Street projects
a reality. I want to thank the work crews who labored and took pride in
constructing this magnificent bridge. I want to acknowledge and thank
Mr. Oakley Rivers and Mrs. Agatha Rivers of Sun Construction for their
help and encouragement to complete this project. They are very gener-
ous and kind people. I do not consider them my companys competitors
butI sincerely mean thismy colleagues, working towards the same
goal, which is to make Los Angeles a better place to live. For Keller
Construction, this is a very proud moment, and I want to bring forward
my wife, Allison, and our daughtersLouise, Gloria, and Emilyto
share in this moment. My family and the workers at Keller Construction
dedicate this bridge to the people of Los Angeles. Thank you, and God
bless you all!
As the person not acknowledged, standing surrounded by members
of the Southern California Aryan Club, Uncle Philip was bothered to no
end. After his nephew took a seat on the stage, Philip Keller paced from
one side of the bridge to the other. Ernest had not even glanced his way!
It was as if his uncle did not matter anymore. Back at the celebration,
Uncle Philip focused his gaze on Oakley Rivers, whom he considered a
false American, a man who camouflaged his identity, who never
declared publicly that he was an Indian, a Mexican, an upstart greaser.
After all I did for you! I brought you here! he yelled at the stage.
A few people in the crowd turned to the man who acted crazy, who
was being nudged toward the back of the crowd. Several members of the
Southern California Aryan Club pulled Uncle Philip away and invited
142 Alejandro Morales
him for a drink downtown. Uncle Philip had a few quick rounds with his
friends and finally started to relax. He let go of the tension in his neck,
his shoulders, his arms, and tried to hide from his friends the tears that
were welling up and trickling down his face.
Damn, after all I did for him! I brought him to Los Angeles. After
all I did for Allison, for the girls!
EARLY 1929, ABOUT the time of the opening of the Fourth and Lore-
na Street bridge, Sun Construction announced the completion of the
First Street bridge. Oakley had ordered the construction crews to start
the final clearing and cleaning of the site. Laughing while he gave
instructions to Albert, Oakley sent him with a crew to finish loading
trucks with the wood scraps, bent rebar, broken concrete and trash that
had been pushed into large piles by bulldozers. Within a few days Oak-
leys crews had transported the waste to landfills in the hills above City
Terrace. The city council was not sure about having another opening
ceremony for a bridge. Oakley told them to save their money. He insist-
ed on a simple ceremony in the council chambers.
FOR SEVERAL MONTHS Leonard Banac had ongoing meetings with
his family to discuss the status of their personal and business invest-
ments. They had a sense of urgency about making changes to their port-
folios. Leonard was more convinced about disinvesting after receiving
letters and telegrams from long-time friendsveteran bankers and
stockbrokers working in New Yorkclaiming that the market was
about to make a major correction because stocks had been run to
extremely high prices. They feared the overvalued bubble was about to
burst. Leonard had warned his family and also informed friends, includ-
ing Oakleys business associate Ernest Keller, about the coming col-
lapse. Oakley had been present at bank gatherings where Leonard
Banac described past collapses and predicted that history was about to
repeat itself, perhaps catastrophically. Most listeners eyed each other,
others simply laughed. Most did not take him seriously. Many clients
transferred their portfolios to other banks. At one meeting, twenty-five
did not heed his advice and held on to their stocks, and only ten con-
verted their holdings into cash. Leonard Banacs bank was solvent and
rich in cash. When his son-in-law completed the First Street bridge proj-
ect, Leonard Banac and all his family were secure.
River of Angels 143
In Oakley Rivers opinion, Leonard Banac was a genius. He missed
predicting the catastrophe by ten days. He got the month right, but the
day and date were off. October had started hot and sunny, but by the sec-
ond week it turned cool and grey. The mood of the people became nerv-
ous, short tempered, and later that month volatile and unpredictable.
Small businesses were letting their employees go. Small to mid-size
companies laid off workers. Lines of depositors who wanted their
money started to form at numerous banks in Los Angeles. By October
28, 1929, grown men in rich cashmere suits walked the streets of Los
Angeles, sobbing. For those who remained fully invested with millions
in stocks, within twenty-four hours their world of wealth and power had
fallen into a deep black abyss of debt, a debt so immense that their total
worth could not balance it. These men and their families became penni-
less, and many became homeless.
In Hancock Park, several families on Agatha and Allisons street
had lost everything and were forced to leave their homes. The banks
gave them only a few days to gather a few personal items and vacate.
There were drastic consequences: jail for the husband and possibly the
wife. The children would be taken by the County Child Protection Serv-
ices, which meant an orphanage or a foster home. Deportation was a
possibility for those who were from abroad. The third possible result
was living in a car or truck, waiting for the next government handout.
The house, furniture, clothing, jewelry, dishes, rugs, wall hangings,
items stored in drawers, even toysabsolutely the entire inventory of
the family homewould be confiscated by the bank. Their automobiles
were often repossessed. Many had no transportation except for Sol, who
helped the children climb onto the back of his pickup truck, while their
parents rode in the front cab.
Through the front window of Agathas house, she and Allison
observed their neighbors pack up and leave. A mother of five children
was hardly able to walk. Her husband tried to remain strong, but he
broke down several times as Sol loaded the few suitcases they were
allowed to take. Sheriffs were present to supervise the eviction.
Did you give him the money, Allison?
He was too proud to take it. I slipped it into her purse.
They have nothing. The girls, what will happen to the children?
Sol is taking them to the train station. They have enough money to
take the train to San Diego and stay in a hotel for a few days. She told
me they were going to a small town on the border. Her brother has a
144 Alejandro Morales
ranch down there. Theyre all going to work for him as ranch hands, I
suppose.
Allison followed Agatha into the kitchen and brewed a pot of cof-
fee. They sat down at the table, feeling that their world was coming to
an end.
They are lucky. They have a place to go to. They have family able
to help them. Agatha said as she offered a slice of chocolate cake to
Allison.
They say that men have taken their lives, committed suicide! I just
could not do that. Nothing could drive me to take my own life. I would
never hurt my children like that.
Agatha listened. She nodded, agreeing with her friend.
Agatha, please thank your father. We are forever grateful.
Hes the smart money. We were lucky we listened and took his
advice. It was so tempting not to. Thank God we did.
Ernest told me your father shorted stocks and made a bundle, and
his stock is still making a profit. Is that right?
Allison, I dont know what my father did. You can ask him.
Agatha smiled at Allison, who did not shy away from asking ques-
tions. Outside, Sols truck started up, and the two women walked to the
parlor windows to see the neighbors children riding in the back of the
pickup, waving good-bye to their friends.
ERNEST HAD NOT seen his Uncle Philip for at least two months. Alli-
son and Ernest had decided not to seek him out after the Crash. They
knew he had been hurt badly by the stock market disaster, but they were
not really sure how badly or whether he had a secondary plan that might
have saved some of his money. He had been so stubborn. He was hard-
headed and, worst of all, his Aryan racist ideology had made him mean.
Ernest and Allison dreaded his visits to complain about the girls, about
the aliens, the Mexicans taking over the country, and to sound off about
the Rivers family ruining the Keller children. Some time had gone by
without Uncle Philips toxic visits.
Its been too long. I should go check on him!
At daybreak on a Monday, Ernest drove out of Hancock Park and
headed for Uncle Philips home, noticing the green grass and flowers
that always seemed to be in bloom. As Ernest drove up the winding, iso-
lated street in Beverly Hills to his uncles driveway and parked under
the archway that covered the side-door entrance to the kitchen, he
River of Angels 145
noticed that the screen door was shut, but the main door was wide open.
It was 6:30 A.M. Maybe his uncle was already up, Ernest thought, as he
opened the screen door.
Uncle Philip! Uncle Philip, its Ernest!
Dishes, with meat, asparagus, carrots, and a bowl full of wilted
salad, all sat on the kitchen table. A wine bottle laying on its side had
spilled its contents onto the red tile floor. The smell of decomposing
meat suddenly became worse. Ernest anxiously and tentatively followed
the morning sunlight filtering through the large dining room and into the
living room, where he found chairs overturned, lamps broken, docu-
ments scattered everywhere. He stood still in front of the shattered
doors of the china cabinet. Most of the china had been thrown random-
ly in all directions of the dining and living rooms. Broken pieces of
magnificent antique china formed puzzle-like forms, one on top of the
other. Crystal glasses and liquor bottles in the bar had been smashed.
The smell of hard whisky blended with the heavy odor of putrefaction.
The hallway to the study and bedrooms was covered with clothes, tow-
els and bedding. Halfway to the master bedroom, Ernest noticed sever-
al bloody towels.
Uncle Philip! Uncle Philip, where are you?
Ernest walked into the bedroom. Uncle Philip, wearing a shirt and
nothing else, lay face down in the middle of his bloodied bed. The
stench was even more repulsive. At the side of the bed on an expensive
Indian rug, Ernest found a pan half filled with urine and lumps of feces.
Uncle Philip, Ernest called in a whisper to his uncle, but there
was no response. He moved closer. Uncle Philip! He lay in a puddle
of vomit and urine.
Ernest turned him over. What he saw horrified him. His uncles face
was unrecognizable. His left ear was hideously enlarged, his nose flat-
tened, his eyes swollen shut, his lips split open. But he was breathing.
Finally there was a response. Uncle Philip coughed, grunted and
mumbled.
Its Ernest. Uncle Philip, its Ernest. Ernest struggled to sit him up.
Uncle Philip grabbed his nephews forearm and squeezed it.
Im calling an ambulance. Let go, come on, let go!
No! Take me, please, you take me.
Calm down. Fine, Ill take you. Dont be upset. Ill take you. Now,
let go of my arm.
146 Alejandro Morales
No, Im not going anywhere! Ernest, dont let them take me! Dont
say a word! Damn you, dont say a word! Uncle Philip screamed.
Slowly Philip opened his hands and released Ernests arm. From the
filthy bed, Ernest pulled down the cleanest pillows and brought sofa
cushions and more pillows from other rooms. He moved his uncle to the
edge of the bed. He pushed the cushions and pillows to the side of the
bed and created a soft landing in case Uncle Philip fell. Ernest went for
bath towels and began to clean the filth off his uncles body.
No, stop this! Get away!
Ernest ripped his uncles shirt off.
You ruined my shirt!
Uncle Philip swung wildly and slapped his nephew on the side of
his head.
Damn you! Youre not getting into my car like this. Youre full of
filth!
Ernest cleaned his uncles legs and chest. With a wet towel he
wiped Uncle Philips face and neck. He ran to the bathroom, soaked
another towel and wiped his uncles head clean. The cold water seemed
to calm Uncle Philip, and he rested perfectly still. Ernest quickly eyed
clothes that were scattered everywhere. From a pile in the corner, he
pulled out a pair of pants and a wrinkled white shirt. He returned to his
uncle, who rested quietly, and proceeded to dress the man. The pants
and shoes were easy, but the shirt was a struggle. He rolled his uncle
from side to side but failed to get the shirt on. Finally, Ernest positioned
Uncle Philip facedown, slipped the shirt sleeves up one arm and then up
the other. He rolled him on his back but could not button the shirt.
Ernest went to the living room, carried in the large sofa cushions to prop
his uncle up. Ernest jumped on the bed, crouched behind him and
wrapped his arms under Uncle Philips armpits. His uncle yelled when
Ernest pulled him up. Ernest was finally able to button the shirt and put
a jacket over Uncle Philips shoulders. With a soaked cloth he gently
wiped the sweat from Uncle Philips face. His uncle winced with pain
every time Ernest dabbed at the crusted blood. Ernest stopped when a
trickle of blood ran from a deep cut in his cheek. Ernest noticed that
many deep cuts covered Uncle Philips face, as if his face had been
slashed repeatedly with a sharp object. Ernest wrapped a large dark-blue
towel around his neck, and with another covered his wayward uncles
head. Uncle Philips moans became louder and more consistent.
River of Angels 147
All right, all right, Im taking you to the hospital now. You have to
walk to the car. I cant carry you! Come on, Ill help you.
Uncle Philip reached up, placed his hand on his nephews shoulder,
stood up, screamed and collapsed, taking Ernest down with him onto
the wooden floor. Ernest looked at his uncles legs. He didnt have to
roll up the pant legs to realize how horribly his uncles knees were
swollen. His ankles had turned black and blue, and now, with a slight
touch to any part of the legs and torso, Uncle Philip screamed and cried.
He was getting worse by the minute. Ernest again thought about calling
an ambulance but decided that if he did, his uncle might fall into a worse
state. He pushed up from the wooden floor. What a beautiful smooth
floor, he thought, that ran through the bedroom, down the hall, through
the living room to the foyer and on to the front door.
Uncle Philip, Im going to drag you to the car.
He placed the thick bed cover on the floor and rolled his illustrious
Uncle Philip Keller to the center. He wrapped him up, like in a cocoon,
and easily dragged and maneuvered his battered uncle through the bed-
room, down the hall, through the living room and the foyer. As he pulled
the unwieldy load, Ernest had looked down at the hideous swollen crea-
ture who was getting heavier by the minute. Ernest stopped and ran out,
drove the car as close as possible to the front entrance. Within seconds,
Uncle Philip moaned and yelled even more from the pain and suffering
now being inflicted by his nephew as he dragged him over the brick
walkway to the car. He opened the back door.
This is going to hurt.
With all the might he possessed, Ernest was able to lift Uncle
Philips upper body onto the back seat, but his uncles legs were hang-
ing outside the car. Although Uncle Philip screamed in agony, Ernest
placed his shoulder under his uncles lower back and pushed him for-
ward, getting his body almost completely into the car. He pulled the
blanket out from under him, covered his uncle and tried to shut the door.
Fold your legs just a little so that I can shut the door.
No, no, oh, oh no!
A smile crossed Ernest face. He laughed at how ridiculous all this
might appear to someone watching, but nobody was in sight. Nobody
had come out to investigate his uncles screams and curses.
He slapped his uncles legs. Fold your legs! Here goes! Im clos-
ing the door!
148 Alejandro Morales
Uncle Philip screamed several times, but he folded his legs to make
his body fit in the back seat. Ernest started the car and drove down
toward the heart of Los Angeles.
As Ernest drove, heading to the hospital, he wondered what had
occurred in that Beverly Hills house. These thoughts were more than
puzzling, annoying to Ernest. In the back seat Uncle Philip squirmed and
moaned. With that, Ernests principal concern was that his uncle survive
the severe beating he had suffered. Ernest also worried about the mans
financial condition. Had he lost all his investments? No matter, Ernest
thought, as he drove on. He was prepared to save his uncles house and
to honor his twenty-five percent of Keller Construction now under new
company guidelines that had already been drafted by Banac & Sons.
Ernest wanted to protect the company and also to provide for his uncles
welfare. He drove faster to save Uncle Philips life. Finally, he arrived at
the emergency entrance of the Los Angeles County Hospital, where he
stopped right in front and two black orderlies opened the back door to
the car. Despite Uncle Philips ugly, screaming protests, they picked him
up and placed him on a gurney. Ernest followed his uncle being pushed
forward into the hospital by the two black orderlies, who laughed at
every insult sent their way by the battered Uncle Philip Keller.
MONTHS HAD GONE by since the Crash. People filled the Los Ange-
les streets as before, but now they wore a mask of deep hurt, a mask of
victims of betrayal. When Ernest parked his car on a downtown street,
he noticed a glare from passers-by that could only mean I am walking
and you are driving that new expensive car. The men, in their gaze,
revealed resentment. A young man slowly made his way across the
street, peered into the windshield, caught Ernests eye and spat on the
car. While walking the sidewalks of the city, people stared at Ernests
shoes, his tailored suit and fine hat; then, they turned away from him in
disgust. He sensed a deep hatred of the wealthy who had survived the
Crash. Ernest quickly moved through the crowds, watching people walk
past him, heading somewhere, looking for something. Some turned
back to stare at him. Maybe they had lost money in the stock market,
Ernest thought. Most likely their hours at work had been cut back.
Maybe they had been laid off, to be called back at a later date when
things got better. Or worse, they had been let golost their jobs
because the company had gone out of business. Some owners, like their
workers, had lost all assets and had been rendered penniless, homeless,
River of Angels 149
hoboes, nomads. Living in their cars or on the street, they were search-
ing for work to feed their families.
FOR ABOUT AN hour, Allison and Louise, and Agatha and Albert saun-
tered down First Street toward Belvedere. The windows and doors in a
few houses were raised or flung open. After more than a year of perhaps
too much turmoil and sadness, Agatha and Allison decided that they had
to get out among people, the way they used to before the Crash. The
world was in an economic depression, but life had to go on. They were
not content to stay cooped up in their homes. Agatha still went to work,
and Allison continued her volunteer service at Catholic Services. Oakley
and Ernest were meeting with Leonard Banac at Sun Constructions
Boyle Heights office to discuss the impact of a labor law that the Cali-
fornia legislature had approved. It so happened that the wives and their
oldest children, independently of each other, had come to walk down to
the river to enjoy the breezes and freshness of the morning.
Allison and Louise had arrived, only minutes before Agatha and
Albert stepped out of the office and met several workers getting ready
to head out to construction sites. The crews had gotten smaller because
Oakley had laid off workers, and because many of the single men had
repatriated to Mexico voluntarily or had been held without any legal
charge and deported forcibly. The Depressions job shortages had
caused a reaction in the press against Mexicans holding jobs or joining
welfare rolls. Anglo Americansa term in the Southwest that now
included all white ethnicsechoed the scapegoating expressed by
President Hoover: The Mexicans took jobs away from American citi-
zens. Locally at the same time, City Hall was restoring La Plazanot
for Mexicans, of course, but for tourists. Olvera Street was being trans-
formed into a picturesque Mexican marketplace.
On that morning walk, Allison and Louise caught up with Agatha
and Albert while they were talking to some workers who suggested that
they walk down to where Doa Mara Olazbal and the Cooperative
Society of Unemployed Mexican Ladies were selling tamales to help
the laid-off barrio residents. The workers all agreed the tamales were
delicious and cheap, and they suggested to the patrones that the walk
would do them good.
As the group approached, they saw five women tending to the tamales
stand. Four large metal pots filled with hot water contained warmed small-
er pots packed with tamales. At this time of day there didnt seem to be
150 Alejandro Morales
much business. Many workers from the barrio had already come by to
purchase the tamales that would sustain them through another day of
searching for a job. Many of the workers were in Los Angeles by them-
selves, without wives to cook and care for them. For some, one tamal
would be the only sustenance they would have for twenty-four hours.
Some women also came to buy tamales for the end-of-the-day meal.
They served the tamales with vegetables from their family gardens.
Most Mexican families had a home garden or at least tried to grow veg-
etables somewhere near the place where they lived.
Doa Olazbal showed Agatha and her group to some folding
chairs and placed a paper plate of tamales on the table.
The women ordered small cups of agua fresca that Albert enjoyed.
With poquito limn and sugar. Its delicious, verdad, mijo?
Doa Olazbal said as she placed her hand on Alberts shoulder. He
turned with a mouthful and drank the agua dulce.
The women laughed at Alberts expression of satisfaction.
Una docena, Seora Olazbal, Agatha spoke slowly but clearly
as she ordered a dozen tamales to take home.
For you, Seora Rivers, no charge.
Thank you, seora. Pero mi amiga Allison y yo want to buy to help
la organizacin de mujeres del barrio. Alberto y Louise also are here
para ayudar su organizacin.
Muchachas, listen. Estas seoras quieren ayudar la cooperativa.
The women stopped their work and applauded the pledge of sup-
port. Doa Olazbal sat down, lady to lady, with Agatha and Allison, to
chat about the Cooperative Society of Unemployed Mexican Ladies.
Meanwhile, Albert and Louise walked away to a quiet place where they
could be alone.
IN JUNE AT about nine-thirty on a cool clear night, people watched the
moon rise, its full face gazing down upon the City of Angels. For long
moments the moon demanded complete silence, interrupted only by a
speeding car on Olympic Boulevard. Albert stood alone in the front gar-
den of the Rivers home on Plymouth Street in Hancock Park. He closed
his eyes as the moonlight bathed him and wondered how many Sun
Construction employees enjoyed the magnanimous moon tonight after
Oakley Rivers had laid off half of the companys crews. Albert had lis-
tened to his father explain why he had to stop some of the men from
working on the big jobs that had been funded until completion. He
River of Angels 151
promised that each worker would receive a small company benefit to
help pay housing, utilities, groceries and doctor bills. Some of the men
who lost their jobs were stoic; others stood, made a fist and squeezed; a
few yelled unpleasant remarks, some at the boss, some at the circum-
stance; many just walked away.
A man named Rolando asked, Mr. Rivers, sir, when do we get our
first check?
Youll get half the benefits at the end of this month. Then you will
receive full benefits at the end of each month for as long as the compa-
ny can afford it. Dont forget: As long as you get the benefits from us,
you must report to five oclock roll call every morning. Who knows, we
might need you that day. The situation will get better. It has to, for all
of us. Thank you for understanding, Rolando. Now, go and be with your
families. See you on Monday morning. Oakley had made changes to
the Boyle Heights office and the yard when hed initially established his
business on the property, but since then only minor improvements had
been done. He enjoyed the office building near the river, near his father
and mothers house. Often he walked out to the river, meandered
through his parents gardens, stood on the lawn and gazed beyond the
River Mothers dwelling, across the river to Los Angeles. He remem-
bered his parents, he remembered when he was Otchoo Ros and when
he felt a part of the river, the land, felt he belonged here. He didnt care
what people were saying or thinking. For generations his family had
lived in Los Angeles. He and his family, more than anyone else,
belonged here! He and his family were not aliens, not immigrants. This
was their land.
Oakley sat in front of a heavy mahogany desk that the river had
generously given to Sol. The desk had three leather inlays and a deli-
cately carved baroque trim around the desk top, drawers and legs. The
wood was a heavy rare mahogany, skillfully honed down to a masterful
work of art. The desk had not been in the water long when the River
Mother spotted it and sent Sol to fetch it. After Sol had cleaned off the
mud and weeds and set it outside for a few days, the desk emerged
unscathed. Sol then cleaned and polished the fine wood. Finally, care-
fully, he maneuvered the desk onto his pickup, covered it with blankets
and secured it. He was eager to see his brothers eyes when he looked
upon the magnificent piece that the River Mother had sent to him. Sol
knew that Oakley would be pleased.
152 Alejandro Morales
Oakley was admiring the desks detail when several cars drove into
the yard and stopped, leaving the engines idling. He focused his atten-
tion again on the dark mahogany desk, running his fingers over the
carved detail on the desktop edges. A sense, a breath, a taste, a pleasant
perfume, a pleasure rubbed on his fingertips. A vision, the word
magic came to his mind.
Pap, Pap, some men want to see you. Albert came to the door
and stepped aside, letting the men enter.
Two were openly armed. Oakley had a hunch about what they were
going to request. County officials, local businessmen and certain union
men had been visiting companies to ask the owners not to hire Mexi-
cans. Of course, they never claimed they represented any government
agency or private company. They were there only as private, concerned
citizens. They explained that hard economic times required emergency
measures, and that the shortage of jobs demanded that companies hire
local Americans, citizens.
We know your crews have Mexican boys working. Oakley, were
askin you not to hire aliens.
The well-dressed, tall, obese man stopped talking, placed both
hands on his cane in front of him and leaned forward. He seemed to be
catching his breath. Oakley recognized the large man from the newly
elected Mayor John C. Porters office. The three men had not introduced
themselves. They had simply barged in and started talking. As the men
spoke, Oakleys hands caressed the mahogany desk. What magic did
this desk possess? Oakley thought.
The huge mans face turned red, and his eyes squinted on hearing
Oakleys response.
Were not hiring! Today I had to lay off a group of long-time work-
ers. I might have to completely shut down a few projects.
Just remember, when you need to hire again, hire only real Amer-
icans, no Mexicans of any kind, no aliens.
Tell them to go back to Mexasshole! one of the armed men stand-
ing against the wall shouted.
The obese man straightened his arms and pushed his upper body
away from Oakleys desk. He slowly made his way toward the door. He
paused and looked back at Oakley. Thank you, Mr. Rivers. I know we
can count on you.
Outside, the car engines revved up, and Oakley and Albert heard
them drive off the Boyle Heights Yard.
River of Angels 153
Why did they do that? Albert asked his father, who sat pensive,
now feeling the leather inlay on his new magical desk.
Theyre afraid of losing jobs. Its not going to get better for any-
one.
Oakleys thought, unfortunately, became fact. Citizens or not, resi-
dents began to understand that the economic downfall had deep roots
and that jobs would be scarce for a long time to come. Men and women
who had lost their jobs got up in the morning to walk the streets in hopes
of finding work for a couple of hours, half a day. A full days work
would be a miracle. People not only lost jobs but, as the months went
by and the cash disappeared, those who owned a car sold it to buy food
for the family.
Day after day they walked. Some men covered the entire city
searching, hoping for an hour of labor. A few dollars would make the
wife happyable to buy bread, ground meat, onions, spaghetti, canned
beans, milk and fresh vegetables.
Hey, you Mexicans, dont botherthere is no work for you here!
I only have jobs for whites.
ONCE IN A while, white men walked into Mexican barrios hoping that
maybe someone there needed help working on a car, cleaning the house
or the yard, any kind of work would do. Men were more than willing to
work for a few handfuls of beans, some rice, a couple of ears of corn,
some tortillas. There came a time when outsiders wandered into Mexi-
can districts and noticed the yards were planted with large gardens.
Those who crossed the bridge to East Los Angeles often got lucky. They
slowly walked by the houses, stopped at the gates and stared down at
the gardens that covered the many front yards of houses.
Mexican housewives glanced out from their kitchens or living room
windows and saw tired, sad-eyed men staring at their fruitful gardens.
The men would invariably lean over a fence to get a better look at the
rows of vegetables, pots with tomatoes, green beans, peppers and many
more vegetables. They kept walking barrio streets, leering jealously at
hundreds of pots and boxes with live food-bearing plants and trees. In
every free space rested a receptacle for fruits and vegetables. Some of
these men were fortunate.
Yoohoo, you, Seor gringo!
The man turned, chuckling at the greeting. At noon the East Los
Angeles sun shined directly down upon the man and two women who
154 Alejandro Morales
stood in the middle of a garden. He squinted, unable to make out the
womens faces.
Are you hungry? Tiene hambre? The two women spoke in one
voice.
The sunlight fell directly on his face. There seemed to be one
woman now. From out of the blue, gold, orange-yellow bright light
appeared a woman holding out a grocery bag.
Its not much. Tortillas, frijoles, calabacitas y tomates para usted
y su familia.
The man took the bag, unbelieving. He thought he understood what
the woman had said. He reached into the bag, finding exactly what the
woman had described. He looked up, but she was gone. He returned to
the fence and once more leaned over and stared at the variety of veg-
etables abundantly planted and thriving there in the middle of East Los
Angeles. He opened the bag again. It felt heavier, making him think he
should immediately return to the small one-room efficiency apartment
he had rented for his wife and three children. After selling the car when
the time came, it was easy to sell the house, but now that money was
about gone. The bag felt even heavier now. He held it against his chest
and headed home and stopped feeling so sorry for himself. He ceased
repeating in his mind the thought of why did this have to happen to me?
The weight of the bag made him lean forward and walk faster. He
sensed that he was getting stronger. He had to get stronger, for the bag
seemed to have even greater weight. He suddenly realized that he was
running, that he was healthy, and his wife and children were healthy. He
suddenly leaned against the door of the apartment he had rented a few
days earlier. His wife opened the door, helped the man place the heavy
grocery bag on the kitchen table.
Youve been gone all day. You must be tired. My God, this bag
holds so much food! Did you finally work?
No, I crossed the river. I found a garden. There a Mexican woman
appeared. The sun was bright. I couldnt see her face clearly. She hand-
ed me this bag. She said it was food for you and the kids. Thats what I
understood. I think I ran all the way back, all the way home!
From the bag the children excitedly pulled out tortillas, rice, beans,
a small bag of sugar, coffee, eggs and chorizo, fruits and vegetables, and
a bottle of milk. For an instant, the bag seemed like a bottomless store
of food for the mans family. He embraced his wife and children.
We are going to be fine. Things are going to get better for us all.
River of Angels 155
On the east side of the river and in other Mexican communities
throughout the Los Angeles area, Mexicans held together and survived
the difficult economic times. Often, many were generous with strangers
who wandered into the barrio looking for work. The neighbors made
sure they at least left with a bag filled with food. Mexicans were able to
live a rasquache, hard-scrub lifestyle, which allowed them to overcome
the lack of jobs for the men. The Depression equalized and made every
man vulnerable. Men throughout Southern California got up in the
morning and set out in search of work. They took any kind of labor.
Pride was not needed during those times of desperation when the prior-
ity was to feed their children and themselves. The men worked in the
fields and orchards, on small farms tending animals, on big and small
construction jobs that lasted a day or two. They worked as handymen at
menial home repairs, and on the Long Beach and San Pedro docks
unloading sometimes dangerous cargo. They happily took whatever the
day offered, anything at all. No job was worthless. The men said yes for
money or food. The women cleaned houses. They made, mended,
washed and ironed clothes. They took care of children and elderly and
invalids and sick people. They washed dishes, cooked meals in the hid-
den kitchens of restaurants. They unpacked and hung clothes in depart-
ment stores. They worked in hundreds of factories and sweatshops scat-
tered throughout the city and county of Los Angeles. In the afternoon,
like their men, they crossed the bridges, drove the highways, rode the
buses and the trolleys to return home with everything they had earned:
money, chickens, rabbits, seedlings to plant or pot in their gardens.
While calls increased not to hire Mexicans, to cut them off from any
kind of public help, and to repatriate or deport the aliens who took jobs
away from the real Americans, the gardens in the Mexican barrios
became more productive.
OCCASIONALLY, ALBERT AND Louise traveled with Sol to visit his
friends who lived in the many barrios in the San Fernando Valley. Sol
went often to the home of a friend who owned approximately ten acres
in the center of an old barrio near Van Nuys. Consentido Hermano
Rincn had inherited forty acres from his parents. He was the only child
of the Hermano Rincns and therefore did not share property and
wealth with any brothers or sisters. Consentido never knew his family
on his mothers side. Once his mother, Ceritzia Hermano, left La Rosa
del Trinoro in Tuscany, Italy, she never returned or heard from her rela-
156 Alejandro Morales
tives. Consentido often expressed how sad it was that he knew nothing
about his Italian relatives. The same destiny fell upon his father, Don
Elegante Rosario Rincn, who came to California from a small farm in
El Valle de Guadalupe in Baja California del Norte. Don Elegante and
Ceritzia had met at Guadalupe Catholic church in Santa Ana, Califor-
nia. They were married there a year later, about the same time they
accepted an invitation to go for a two-day trip to San Fernando to look
at properties for development. Don Elegante and Ceritzia wanted to get
out of what they considered to be a fast-growing and overcrowded city
area. They both desired a large portion of land on which to build a
house, plant fruit trees, corn, vegetables, raise animals and have chil-
dren. They found forty acres of flat land filled with old oak trees and
with a pristine fresh water stream flowing down from the foothills and
making its way to the Los Angeles River. The couple purchased the land
with funds that they had saved independently. Ceritzia had rented a
room from a family in Santa Ana, and worked washing and ironing
clothes in an industrial laundry. She also took care of the landlords chil-
dren, and Ceritzia became part of the family. Don Elegante had always
worked as a carpenter and overall handyman. He liked to boast that
there was nothing that he could not build or repair. If I can build or
make it, I can repair it was his motto. He made out very well doing
exactly what his motto declared. Don Elegante always had a job and
was never without money.
The couple moved to their forty-acre parcel at the end of the rainy
season and immediately set up a tent, an outside kitchen and an out-
house near the stream. The next day they both went to the nearest lum-
ber mill, purchased wood, cement, bricks, windows and doors to begin
the construction of what Ceritzia called Il Castelluccio, which took
about five years to complete. Within a mere three months, Don Elegante
had built a small cottage consisting of one bedroom, a kitchen with stor-
age, and a living room with a brick-and-stone chimney. These rooms
marked a corner of what eventually became Il Castelluccio, designed
from Ceritizias memories of her home in Italy and raised with the car-
penter and masons skills of her husband. The final product was a mag-
nificent Italian Renaissance-style castle surrounded by ancient oak trees
in the middle of forty acres of undeveloped land that nobody wanted.
During the construction of Il Castelluccio, Don Elegante always found
time to take on outside jobs to secure their financial well-being. As he
methodically shaped their home and brought in cash from outside jobs,
River of Angels 157
she planted the garden around Il Castelluccio. Ceritzias fruit orchards
and plots of vegetables, corn and peppers became so productive that she
hired several men from the nearby barrio to work in the fields and
orchards and to take the produce and fruit to the Los Angeles Wholesale
Produce Market, where they immediately sold.
Where is this produce from? the buyers would ask as they
admired the freshness and quality of the fruits and vegetables. Ceritzias
workers looked at each other until finally one responded, From Il
Castelluccio, sir. Il Castelluccio became Ceritzias brand name, a
trademark that guaranteed fresh, high-quality and timely produce. Cer-
itzia was Il Castelluccio, and for everything she produced that carried
her brand name, she demanded and received a fair but expensive price.
On several occasions she prepared food for several ailing elderly
neighbors. To cook a full-course Tuscan meal she took the ingredients
to their houses. She enjoyed spending an afternoon with them and get-
ting the old couples to linger and reminisce. She, too, shared her stories
about her childhood in Italy. The neighbors gathered to listen intently to
Ceritzias reminiscences of Tuscany, the medieval cities of San
Gimigniano, Siena, Montalcino, Pienza and, of course, her memories of
her family and Il Castelluccio, the family house. Tears of regret would
streak down her cheeks. Why had she not reestablished contact with her
mother, father, brothers and sisters? What had become of the people she
so dearly loved?
During one of her dinners, an elderly guests daughter came by to
see how her parents were doing. Upon catching the aroma of the bread
and the pasta, the fish sizzling on the outside grill, the daughter decid-
ed to stay for dinner. She was so impressed with Ceritzias meal that she
hired her to cook for her next dinner party. At first Ceritzia resisted, but
the woman offered to pay an exaggerated price. Ceritzia countered with
what she considered to be a fair but expensive price. From that point on,
she had invitations to cater dinner parties, baptisms, quinceaeras, bar
mitzvahs, weddings, funerals, birthday parties and simple dinners for
two. Her dishes were considered extraordinary but simple Tuscan cui-
sine. Il Castelluccio and Ceritzia were Tuscany, and those who could
were willing to pay the price to support the rich heritage of Il Castel-
luccio and Ceritzia Hermano Rincn.
The year Don Elegante started to build Il Castelluccio, Ceritzia and
he constructed four wooden pergolas starting about twelve feet from the
main well and extending in four directions, forming a cross and the cen-
158 Alejandro Morales
ter of a mandala. At the foot of every wooden beam Ceritzia planted a
grapevine. She bought a variety of vines from winemakers near Santa
Barbara and purchased as many grapevines from vineyards in the Valle
de Guadalupe, the winemaking area started by Jesuits at the end of the
seventeenth century, located where Don Elegante was born in Baja, Cal-
ifornia. From the pergola hung Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon, Tem-
pranillo and Chardonnay grapes. The land and the weather seemed to be
amenable to planting vines, and Don Elegante and Ceritzia decided to
cultivate about twenty acres of vines. By the time the United States
went dry at midnight, January 16, 1920, Don Elegante and Ceritzia
uncorked the finest bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon produced at La Rosa
del Trinoro Winery. Like everything else they produced, the wine was
of the highest quality. The word went out that La Rosa del Trinoro had
excellent wines. The orders for cases came much faster than Don Ele-
gante and Ceritzia could produce them. They established a wine club,
and everyone who could afford the high price wanted to join. The cou-
ple, of course, did not discriminate against clients. If you had the money
and the patience, you were on their list. Nonetheless, the most impor-
tant members of the club were the Catholic churches in the area that
offered the priests and their large congregations an exclusive contract to
purchase wines solely for their religious rituals. From the start, La Rosa
del Trinoro Winery produced as much wine as the grapes, crew and time
permitted. As the popularity of their wines grew, Trinoro planted more
acreage and hired more workers to tend to the vines. Don Elegante was
the winemaker, Ceritzia did the accounting and organized delivery of
the cases ordered. And people from throughout Southern California
came to buy wine in person. Prohibition was in place, but the purchase
and consumption of alcohol did not stop. People frequented speakeasies
and defiant saloons that never stopped operating. They drank as if the
world were coming to an end, and to many it had. Booze was not diffi-
cult to get, and one of the principal sources for quality wines was La
Rosa del Trinoro Winery. All over the state, police and dry agents sim-
ply ignored the workings of honest winemakers while going after
crooked purveyors of alcohol.
Consentido enjoyed bringing wines to the Rivers family, especially
on occasions when he could talk to Sol about the building underway at
the winery. Both men considered themselves guardians of enchanted
structures raised on energy-centered land. Now, about thirteen years
later, Sol still thrilled upon entering the grounds of Il Castelluccio, its
River of Angels 159
winery and magnificent gardens. He always invited Albert and Louise.
They never said no to the opportunity to spend the day exploring Il
Castelluccio.
IT WAS STRANGE that the highest point of the enforcement of Prohi-
bition coincided with the peak production years of La Rosa del Trinoro
Winery. It was during this time that Don Elegante and Ceritzia both fell
ill, and their bodies changed drastically. Don Elegantes bones and flesh
slowly diminished, almost becoming invisible to the people who loved
him. Ceritzias body went the other direction and grew large, as if it
wanted to crush and suffocate those who loved her. Don Elegante ate
well, never lost his appetite, but still he lost weight and strength. When
he finally admitted that there was something wrong, he went in for
many medical tests. After the results came in, Consentido drove his par-
ents to hear what they dreaded most. A terrible cancer had struck Don
Elegante, and the only hope of prolonging his life was a radical opera-
tion. Upon listening to the options the doctor offered, Don Elegante
refused all treatment. On the drive home, now knowing what he had, the
sensation of pain ever so mildly made him adjust his seating position.
He had noticed that at times his testicles had swollen, but he attributed
the cause to ejaculation, as when he was a young man. He would never
allow the mad Russian doctors to neuter him, to cut everything away.
They wanted to carve him up and leave him like a woman, he thought.
He cringed as he imagined the cancer eating away at him and spreading
throughout his body, consuming cells, tissue, blood, organs and bone.
When Death entered his house, Don Elegante never left his bed. He
refused to leave his beautiful Ceritzias side, declaring that he would
make the Reaper wait as long as he could.
Ceritzias path to paradise was one of immensity, of growing larg-
er, of becoming grossly obese. The doctors were baffled as to why she
had gained weight so quickly. Unlike her husband, she slowly lost her
desire for food. Into the second month of her illness, weighing close to
three hundred pounds, she hardly ate. She drank water and, eventually,
seeing no end to her battle other than death, she drank bottles of the
wine she had become famous for. For breakfast, lunch and after her four
oclock tea, for dinner she drankslowly of course, a bottle or two of
Tempranillobecause she felt closer to God drinking the wine of the
holy fathers and nuns of the Church she dearly loved. Priests and nuns
came and prayed every day for her recovery and, finally, her salvation.
160 Alejandro Morales
Yet Ceritzias body never stopped growing. By the sixth month of her
agony, not of pain but of the burden of trying to move her body, she
began to swell with water. The doctors could not find what was causing
the rapid and massive growth and now the water retention. Ceritzias
extremities, especially her feet, grew larger and larger until they burst.
Her toenails separated from the skin. The flesh opened, causing profuse
bleeding. She lay in bed for days, weeks and months until, finally, she
fell into a merciful coma that closed her brain from the pain and putre-
faction of the huge, infected bedsores that eventually caused her merci-
ful death, which was unlike Don Elegantes; he struggled with terrible
pain and fought off death by screaming blasphemies right up to his last
breath. They died together in the original bed and bedroom of Il Castel-
luccio that they loved so much. They died moments apart. Ceritzia
passed the threshold first, while her husband alternated lovingly calling
her name and screaming in agony, cursing Death and the Almighty. His
last words were coherent and clear. Facing his beloved Ceritzia, he
called out: Ceritzia, wait for me! No me dejes! No me abandones!
To obtain the best medical care and, when the time came, to con-
tract day and night nurses, Consentido sold acres of land until the day
his parents died. Then he arranged a simple funeral on what was left of
the vineyard that contained Il Castelluccio, at his mothers favorite
place to read and restthe pergola mandala that Don Elegante had care-
fully built for her.
Consentido was content that he had provided his parents the best
medical care that money could buy. As for the land he sold, he was
happy that the city made part of it a public park, naming it Il Castelluc-
cio Preserve. The other acreage was bought by housing contractors who
constructed homes and schools. On the parcel that Consentido held
were located Il Castelluccio, the pergola and La Rosa del Trinoro Win-
erys remaining vineyards. Consentido continued his parents tradition
of producing superb wines. The police, the state and federal agents kept
their hands off La Rosa del Trinoro Winery. Consentidos parents cre-
ations thrived, and his friendship with Sol became even stronger.
Sol became Consentidos go-to man when he needed building
materials and repair work on the infrastructure of the vineyard. Sol pro-
vided the labor and obtained the materials from his brother Oakley, who
agreed to fulfill Consentidos requests. Oakley and Agatha had visited
Il Castelluccio several times and thought of it as a beautiful memorial
to Don Elegante and Ceritzia and as a monument to Italian culture.
River of Angels 161
THE RUMBLE OF Sols 1929 Ford Model A pickup trucks four-cylin-
der engine lulled Albert and Louise to sleep as they leaned on each other
while riding south on San Fernando Road to Hancock Park. Sol stopped
the truck suddenly and looked over his shoulder at the baskets and
wooden crates of fruit and produce in the bed of the two-tone black and
maroon pickup. He looked again and made sure that six cases of wine
were still securely tied down at the front of the truck bed. No sign, sig-
nal or any kind of indication warned motorists that railroad tracks
crossed the road ahead. Sol was aware of several fatal accidents that had
occurred at this crossing. About half a dozen ranch hands had been
killed there. Late in the afternoon the tracks became difficult to see.
Only a trains whistle warned of its approach. This point on the track
was located before a long turn, and the train slowed down there to
maneuver the bend successfully. Albert and Louise sat up and watched
the train comingheavily, slowlyto pass by them. The train slowed
down almost to a stop, but then it kept moving ever so slowly. Behind
the engine there was only one passenger car, overcrowded with Mexi-
can families; behind it five cattle cars were jammed with more Mexican
men, women and children. This was a one-way deportation train to the
Mexican border. Sol, Albert and Louise watched as the Send them back
to Mexico cattle cars, jammed with brown bodies, crawled south. The
train passed, leaving a clear road home.
As the deportation train accelerated and Sol, Albert and Louise
traveled home, Oakley and Agatha Rivers walked out of the bank after
having signed purchase contracts for real estate. The reality of the times
dictated that some peoples economic situation worsened while others
wealth rapidly improved. Those who had lost money were now anxious
to unload properties and businesses. Their misfortune allowed Oakley
and Agatha to select the best properties: commercial buildings, houses
in foreclosure and land. Agathas father and brothers held many out-
standing loans on property that they eventually would own outright. The
Banacs, the Rivers and the Kellers, including Uncle Philip, were given
a golden opportunity to invest. Led by Agathas father, the families pur-
chased large blocks of stocks in companies that they were convinced
would make a steady recovery to full operation and profitability. Ernest
and Allison Keller helped Uncle Philip recover financially. They owned
his house and they allowed him to keep a small percentage of the busi-
ness, enough to sustain him through retirement and old age. Moments
ago, Oakley and Agatha had purchased three vacant parcels in Hancock
162 Alejandro Morales
Park, confident that the properties were bound to rise in value. The
Banac brothers had researched income levels in parts of Los Angeles
and found that in Hancock Park the average household income of resi-
dents ranked among the highest in Los Angeles, perhaps in California.
Even in these harsh times, Hancock Park grew to be an even more desir-
able haven for the wealthy.
OAKLEY AND AGATHA entered the main ballroom of the Ambassa-
dor Hotel, where they met Ernest and Allison Keller. Both the Rivers
and the Kellers had been invited by the Honorable John C. Porter,
mayor of the City of Los Angeles, to attend a charity banquet to raise
money for the Los Angeles County Orphanage. The crowd was animat-
ed, at times a burst of loud laughter rising out of the groups gathered in
the ballroom. Agatha and Allison engaged in conversation with a group
of women they worked with at the orphanage. Ernest went to the bar for
drinks, and Oakley remained standing alone. He looked around at the
crowd. As he stood there, some people pushed him aside as if he were
no one, not even a living body worthy of any kind of acknowledgment.
Men reached in front of his face to shake the hand of a politician, a Hol-
lywood movie maker, an oilman, a railroad tycoonthe upper crust of
Los Angeles. Oakley was solvent but not wealthy or famous. In the eyes
of these rude, self-centered movers and shakers, he was as invisible as
the waiters.
Suddenly a large pulpy hand extended toward him. Oakley imme-
diately recognized Walter R. Simons.
Good evening, neighbor! Good to see you here.
Likewise, Mr. Simons.
Im after a brandy. Then I have to catch the wife.
Mr. Simons walked off, almost immediately finding another person
he knew.
For a few seconds Oakley felt he was someone. As the ballroom
became more crowded, it was more difficult to maneuver around the
large gowns that left only enough space for a woman standing erect,
smiling and appearing comfortable in the middle of all that expensive
cloth. Oakley worked his way toward the bar. Having lost sight of
Agatha and Allison, he kept smiling, thinking that maybe he would find
Ernest. Now he wandered among them, wondering who was solvent,
who was genuinely wealthy and who was an imposter, a formerly
wealthy individual who had lost everything except his wife and reputa-
River of Angels 163
tion and one or two tuxedos or tailored suits, parading around with his
elegantly dressed wife as she, too, saved face among their social class.
Oakley did not know these men and women, but he suddenly realized,
as he heard their names in passing, that he was aware of their financial
status from conversations with the Banacs. He now stood still in the
middle of the Ambassadors plush ballroom and considered himself
under a different light, one much brighter than that of quite a few of the
guests present. Oakley smiled at some of the fakers who still did not
acknowledge him.
Agatha was working her way toward him, shaking hands with many
of her father and brothers clients. She knew them all, having main-
tained their accounts at the bank. She went out of her way to be polite
to every one of them. These clients knew that Agatha knew, that her
father and brothers knew their financial status. Agatha conversed with
them in a light-hearted manner, making them relax and laugh. Their
gestures, their stares and faint but tense smiles, their overall behavior
silently begged her not to reveal in the slightest way their state of affairs.
Wherever the Banacs stood, a greeting line formed.
Agatha reached Oakley and pecked him on the cheek.
God! I finally made it. I didnt know so many of our customers
would attend.
As the guests came to say hello to Agatha, they made it a point to
greet Oakley in a polite and cordial way.
Unable to have his wife to himself, Oakley made his way to the gar-
den. As he entered the reception area again, he noticed that the color of
the service employees had changed. Registration clerks, information
assistants, bellboys, doormen, bartenders, waiters and waitresses were
all white. He headed to what he believed to be an exit and crossed an
unmarked borderline. He found himself in the kitchen, where the men
and a few women were so focused on their work that they didnt notice
him walk slowly toward the side door that led outside to the garden.
Oakley saw their brown faces and handslike his. The unseen workers
at the Ambassador were Mexicans, diligently laboring. The Ambassador
hotels profit motive justified retaining the trained and proven brown
faces and hands laboring loyally beneath its grandeur and glitter.
He wandered through back hallways and office spaces hidden away,
unseen by guests. Elegantly dressed, he felt that nobody here would
question his presence. He admired the rich dark paneling along the nar-
row hallway displaying framed photographs and oil paintings. He
164 Alejandro Morales
opened the door to a strangely shaped room, a high octagon with a
stained-glass ceiling that allowed refracted sunlight to descend in a rain-
bow of colors. The room was furnished with a desk and a round table on
which sat a humidor and a small vase filled with matches and flints.
There were four wing-backed chairs, several rolling library carts filled
with books and four tall floor lamps. Oakley studied the photographs and
paintings along the hall. He stopped and craned his neck to see the ele-
vated ceilings. He looked closer at the photographs, hundreds of fixed
visions of a time and place. He read the history of the Ambassador Hotel
and the City of Los Angeles. In the construction scenes, in photographs
of the building crews, he recognized Chinese, Indians and Mexicans. He
gazed back at the faces that after a while seemed to be from the same
family. We all share the same roots, the same family, he thought as he
finally found himself in the midst of the Ambassadors garden.
WEEKS LATER OAKLEY remembered the Ambassador Hotels gar-
den, but he laughed thinking that the gardens plants were not edible.
The garden was not like Ernests or his own vegetable and fruit plots.
He pushed himself up from his knees and tossed weeds into a large bas-
ket. He waved to Sol, who instructed several Sun Construction workers
on how to harvest oranges and strip the branches of dead wood. Oakley
carried the basket to the garden shed at the very far corner of his prop-
erty, where a thick wooded area of oak trees and high brush formed a
border between the Rivers property and the two adjacent acre parcels.
He heard rustling coming toward him from the thick wild brush in the
little border forest. He froze, silent, expecting a wild animal, a coyote
or a mountain lion. He waited, hugging the basket with one hand. He
adjusted the hoe just in case he might need it to fend off the beast. Voic-
es broke his fear, familiar voices, people pausing, walking, running
the neighbors, he thought. He took a breath and started toward the shed
again. For an instant or two he watched a young couple embracing, kiss-
ing and then gleefully running into the forest. Oakley went to the edge
of the forest but did not enter. From there he recognized the couple. The
boy had his shirt open and helped the girl pull her blouse over her head.
Behind him he heard Sol and the men walking toward the shed. Oakley
turned. Are the guys coming tomorrow? he yelled so loudly that his
voice was probably heard inside the house.
LOUISE AND ALBERT were surprised to hear Oakleys voice and the
rattling of garden tools. The leaves of the low-hanging branches formed
River of Angels 165
a tapestry that prevented them from seeing Oakley, Sol and the men
working in the garden and orchard. The couple immediately ran toward
the little refuge that they had visited so many times before. It was
natures place, hidden away, covered with walls of thick green plants
and two majestic old oaks that spread their thick, round branches low to
the earth, reaching out, touching, weaving and forming a bower for the
young lovers. Louise and Albert crawled under the lowest branches, out
of breath, not holding back anymore. They quickly removed their
clothes and laid them down to make their bed. They sat down facing
each other, their legs straddled, and they embraced and kissed. Albert
was so excited, he struggled to hold back his rush. Louise leaned back
on her arms, and Albert kissed her breast, her belly and licked further
down until his mouth, lips, tongue made love to her warm womans
desire. She arched her back even more, raised her hips, offered herself,
and Albert lost himself in her.
Nothing held them back anymore. They eagerly explored all possi-
ble ways to make love, reaching sensual heights that exhausted them for
only a moment before they started again. Albert wanted her and Louise
wanted him, and there was nothing they could not do for one another. In
their joy, they fortified each other. Their love was their nutrition and
they craved to banquet every chance they could. They had been seizing
every opportunity that offered itself, everywhere they could, and on sev-
eral occasions they came dangerously close to getting caught. They
worked so hard to find the time and place.
Louise was losing weight, having little appetite for anything else.
Albert also became gaunt, a result the family thought was from study-
ing too hard. There came a point when the youngsters wished that some-
body would discover them, but that thought did not last long as their
love encounters intensified. They lived that way for months, meeting
every other day, trying not to be obvious, but wondering if their parents
had any idea of their love, of their indulgent behavior.
A slight guilt feeling began to prick Alberts shoulder. He felt as if
something, someone was next to him or behind him. One day after com-
ing home from work at a housing construction site in East Los Angeles
and looking forward to being with Louise, he sensed someone behind
him and found Dame Marie standing there.
One Friday evening, both sets of parents had left town, the Kellers
to San Diego to visit friends and the Rivers to a beach house in Malibu.
Louise and Albert planned to be together every minute of every day that
166 Alejandro Morales
their parents were gone. Dame Marie warned them that Uncle Philip
might drop by to check on the Keller sisters. But the young lovers didnt
worry much about Uncle Philip anymorethey had become immune to
his tirades.
Dame Marie stood against the background of the garden and,
beyond it, the thick grove of trees where Albert and Louise had escaped
too many times. Her face stern, she blocked Albert from entering the
house. Albert was tired, and now he was annoyed.
Dame Marie!
You have to listen to me, Albert. You must!
Her manner, her voice, made Albert realize that his little sister was
no longer a little girl. She stood there an adult, demanding that he listen
to her.
Yes, Dame Marie, what? he said as he made a move to enter the
house.
Not inside. Its better that we talk out here in the open.
Fine, tell me. Im listening.
Albert, I know what youre up to . . . what you and Louise are
doing. Emily and Gloria know, too. Its obvious to us. Every other day
you two sneak away. Somehow you come together, meet somewhere. I
think our parents know as well, but they cant talk about it yet. What
youre doing is going to get you into trouble. Tell Mom and Dad that
you want to marry Louise. Dont you want to marry her? You must want
to! You cant keep your hands off her! If you dont stop and do whats
right, something terribles going to happen. Emily and Gloria are upset.
They want you to tell their parents. They are upset with you, Albert!
They see their sister suffer because she wants to be with you every
moment shes awake. At night she cries herself to sleep. She tosses and
turns. Shes restless and she wakes up asking for you. She cries cause
shes afraid of being discovered. And shes getting worse, losing weight.
She doesnt eat, Albert. Louise wants to be with you always. Please do
the right thing before its too late.
Dame Marie did not shed tears as she did as a child when she was
upset.
I understand, Dame Marie. I heard every word you said. Ill talk to
Louise tonight.
OAKLEYS GARDEN, TENDED to by Sol and their workers, had pro-
duced beyond their expectations. They were ready to harvest vegetables
and fruits in abundance to divide among the family and the workers.
River of Angels 167
The large garden provided food and a place to work and to get together
for the workers. They could discuss work, job opportunities and how to
support each other during those difficult times. In the garden, on their
own the workers decided to construct a fountain, not at its center but
among the trees where they had strung hammocks from thick branches
and placed three long family-size tables and a variety of chairs built on
site. With stones excavated from the field, they also constructed a bar-
beque pit. The Rivers were quite happy to allow the workers to bring
their families to help maintain the garden and picnic on the property.
On one of those days when the workers families had worked all
day, a sudden cold wind pushed into Southern California late in the
afternoon. As the children started to complain about being cold, the
families stored tools away in the shed, cleaned the area and packed up
to leave. Oakley, Agatha, Ernest and Allison came looking for Albert,
who had been watering all day. After Sol had said good-bye to the last
of the workers, he sat down at a table next to the fire pit that still con-
tained burning wood. He watched Albert approaching, wearing tall mud
boots and carrying several hoes and shovels over his shoulders. Oakley
and Agatha, Ernest and Allison sat down at the table.
Albert, Oakley called to his son.
Just a minute. Let me put these tools in the shed.
Oakley and Sol waved him over to the table. Allison seemed upset,
yet managed a smile for him. Ernest brought him a chair but did not
greet him. Albert was uneasy, wondering why they were there. He sat
down, anxiously finding a space in the silence around the table.
Ive been . . . ! Ernest, sitting across from Albert, broke the
silence. I mean, we have been watching you and Louise. She is not
well, Albert!
You are too close. She is too young! Allison cried out.
Albert simply sat and listened. He knew exactly what was bother-
ing them. He only wondered what had taken them so long to react. Oak-
ley pushed away from Agatha; they had been whispering while the
Kellers spoke.
Albert . . . , Oakley continued. We, the Kellers and your mother
and I, have concluded that Louise and you have been too close. You are
both too young. You have your whole lives to live. We feel that your
relationship is getting out of hand.
It has! Albert responded immediately. I love Louise, and she
loves me. We want to be together for the rest of our lives.
168 Alejandro Morales
Love is not wrong, Albert. Dont misunderstand us. We think that
you both are still children. You need to complete your studies and
Louise must finish hers.
Children? No, youve gotta understand. Were in love, and nothing
can keep us apart!
Its our fault, Agatha! We pushed them together. We thought they
were beautiful together, so innocent. We played with their lives. We
brought them together, and now they have fallen in love.
Allison, dont exaggerate. Nobodys to blame. Thank God nothing
terrible has happened yet. Look, Albert, nothing against you, but youve
caused enough harm already, said Ernest.
Now youre blaming him, Ernest! Oakley stood up. Louise is the
cause of this also!
Please stop! Lets not argue. We did enough of that already.
Agatha quieted her husband and then reached across the table for
Alberts hand.
Albert, son, please listen to us. We think you and Louise need to
stop seeing each other for a while. You both need to cool the relation-
ship down. For a few months, son. Please understand, we want the best
for both of you. After a few months well see how things stand. . . .
Well see if you still have the same feelings about each other. Maybe
this is only an infatuation, a case of first love that might not last. You
might be wrong for one another, son. Let time pass, give time a chance
to let you think.
I love Louise. Maybe in your minds the worst has happened, but
you really dont know how involved we are.
Damn it! Quiet, Albert! I dont want to hear any more. Just stay
away from my daughter. Leave her alone. She cries and cries. All I want
is to see her happy again. Stay away, Albert. Stay away!
Ernest took Allison by the arm and left the Rivers family alone at
the table.
Allison, come back! We need to talk, Agatha called out softly. Her
words were like a prayer in the cool evening.
IT HAD RAINED heavily for several days, drenching the mountains
and the nearby hills, damaging crops and bringing down homes with
devastating mud slides. Several expensive homes built on the hilly ter-
races above Los Angeles had rumbled down to the canyons below. Even
after the police had warned the residents to evacuate, they would not
leave their homes. Families died.
River of Angels 169
Why cant I be with her? Albert asked himself as he stood on the
Fourth Street viaduct overlooking the swollen river rushing onward to
the ocean. I can take care of Louise. Were not children. Were in love.
They think that separation will change how Louise and I feel. Keeping
us apart is kindling, feeding our desire to stay together. I can take care
of Louise better than her parents. I can work. Im as good an engineer
as my father or any of the engineers who work for him. Louise and I can
make a life together. Our parents should not try to stop our love from
growing. By now they must know that weve made love many times,
and we cant stop. We need each other to live and to be happy.
Albert had stopped attending classes at USC. He dedicated his days
without Louise to working for his father, doing hard labor with the
workers on several road construction and home-building sites. These
were merely small jobs taken on by Oakley to keep his crews busy while
he and the company prepared bids for major construction projects. Their
bigger contracts included building homes in new residential areas that
were opening up on the east side of the river.
To let Louise know that he was back from work, hed drive by her
house and park the truck in front of his place. He had not talked much
to his parents, who were still angry with him for not attending school.
Several of Alberts engineering classmates kept him on track with the
classes he had missed, warning him that the professors were getting
impatient. They wanted Albert to let them know when he planned to
return. One professor had indicated that, even considering family emer-
gencies, Albert could not miss more than three weeks.
The family had a quiet dinner that night and everyone went to their
rooms early. Oakley and Agatha had gotten into bed by ten. By eleven,
crickets and frogs sang loudly outside, breaking the silence inside the
house. Albert waited in his bed for something, anything to happen. A
miracle? Two weeks had passed and there was not a word from Louise.
His body ached from physical labor and from the constant worry about
Louise. He lay there resting, listening to sounds from outside. He
opened his eyes to fingernails grasping the doorknob. The door opened
slowly. His sister appeared. Dame Marie motioned to follow her. She
led him to the farthest room from their parents bedroom, the workroom
that had a door to the gardens. Dame Marie and Albert silently stepped
just outside the house.
Emily, Gloria, Dame Marie whispered toward the high row of
blue hydrangeas. Emily and Gloria immediately hugged him.
170 Alejandro Morales
Louise wants you to know that she needs you to be with her. She
cant wait much longer, Emily said in her calm manner.
You should go see her, Albert! This cant go on! Shes miserable!
Shes sick, and Mother seems to be getting angrier because of Louises
illness. Gloria spoke with a tone of anger and desperation.
Uncle Philip doesnt help. Hes always scolding her for what she
has done with you. We must go. If Father finds out were here, he wont
let us out of the house ever again.
Emily smiled and embraced him. Here, she wrote this for you.
Come to the house, Please.
Albert took the paper and started for his room, as quietly as possi-
ble, but turned and suddenly embraced Dame Marie.
Thank you, Sis, thank you. I love you.
Shining, glittering reflections seemed to light his way back to his
room.
He pushed his books aside, turned on his desk lamp and sat for a
while, holding Louises letter. Finally something had happened. He had
been worried that Louise had given in to her parents and did not want to
see him again. But now he knew that wasnt what was happening. He
unfolded her letter.
Albert My Love,
I am desperate to be with you! Please come take me away. I
need to be with you. I cant sleep at night thinking of you and what
you are suffering. I am sick. My stomach is upset. I throw up every
morning. Mother is very angry with me, and I know why. Uncle
Philip is not happy with me. He blames me for what I have done.
He says I have ruined the family by associating with you. If he
only knew what we have done. Albert, please dont be upset at
what I will tell you now. It was unavoidable. Our love will make it
all wonderful. My beautiful Albert, I think that I am pregnant. I
have missed three periods. I think Mother knows. She cant seem
to find a way to ask. Tomorrow morning I will make it easier for
herI will tell her. God only knows how she and Father will react.
I dont know what my father will do. I just dont know. I need you
now more than ever. Please, my love, come for me, take me away
from here. I want to be with you and only with you. I want to have
our baby more than anything in the world. Im happy Im preg-
River of Angels 171
nant. I will not stay here much longer. Come for me, my beautiful
Albert. I love you. I love you! I love you! I love you!
Louise
IT WASNT LONG before Uncle Philip got the news he had dreaded.
Louise is going to have a baby, Allison softly told Uncle Philip
and waited for the outburst.
Uncle Philip simply stared directly at his nephew. You could have
stopped this from happening a long time ago. You should have taken her
away from him when I warned you about him. Now theres only one
thing to do. Ernest, you must do the right thing now.
Allison looked over to her husband. She understood exactly what
Uncle Philip was about to suggest. But she was not sure if she agreed.
Uncle Philip grabbed his hat and stood up. Send her away! Have
her get rid of that mongrel kid thats growing inside her. Do something
about Albert! Its his fault! He got her into this mess! I hope youve both
learned your lessonyou especially, Ernest. Do something about
Albert, or I will.
Ill take care of it. You stay away from him.
Ernest walked his uncle to the door and watched as he drove away
in his new car. His rise from the ashes had been miraculous. Uncle Philip
had overcome alcoholism, drug addiction and the loss of most of his
wealth in the Crash. Ernest had forced his uncle to get treatment. Ernest
did this on behalf of his father, who sent funds to save his brother, Philip.
Ernest never told his father about Uncle Philips sexual proclivities.
Ernest was only concerned about his uncles financial, physical and men-
tal health. Uncle Philips cadre of friends, members of the Southern Cal-
ifornia Aryan Club, also came to his aid. They would not let a brother
down. Uncle Philip responded to his nephews generosity and his Aryan
brothers support by becoming healthy in mind and body, and wiser
financially. During his recovery he began to read about the events in Ger-
many and the rise of a new political party that expressed and practiced
many of his beliefs. Ernest no longer worried about his uncles money
problems, but he did not like these new ideas from Germany.
THE TALL THIN palm trees bent their heads to a forty-five degree
angle, allowing the strong Santa Ana winds to have their way with them.
Several large trees had been uprooted and fallen into gardens; bushes
rolled like tumbleweeds on the grass toward the Rivers little forest.
172 Alejandro Morales
Vases with roses and ceramic candleholders fell from patio tables. The
wind smashed the new rattan furniture into outside walls. This was the
second day of strong Santa Ana winds. Luckily, Los Angeles had been
spared brushfires in the hills surrounding the basin. As gusts of up to
seventy-five miles per hour screamed, slamming against the Rivers
house, windows shuddered and doors became percussion instruments
vibrating in their encasements. The outside walls resisted the relentless
natural force, as the wind shattered into multiple howls of living crea-
tures desperately pounding and flaying the skin of the house.
Albert had packed a duffel bag with all he needed the night before
and stuffed it under his bed. He thought about the notes he had sent to
Louise and hoped they had gotten to her as swiftly as the wind, and that
she understood tonights plan. The violent wind made for a good dis-
traction for his and Louises families. Both of their parents were attend-
ing a celebration dinner in honor of Merrill Butler, the self-educated
engineering genius who had designed and supervised the construction
of the bridges that linked East Los Angeles to the central city. Preoccu-
pied with this event and the business networking opportunities it creat-
ed, their children were pushed to the back of their minds. Albert was
convinced that they had to leave before Louises parents, urged by
Uncle Philip, would send her away. Within the family nothing was a
secret anymore. What Uncle Philip advised Ernest and Allison to do
was unacceptable to Louise and Albert. No matter the threats he made
against Albert, they were not enough to stop the plan they had both con-
cocted. This night and this wind offered the perfect opportunity to take
Louise away to safety.
THE TIME HAD come for Albert to grab his duffel bag, jump in his
pickup and go to Louise. When he arrived at her home, the front porch
light was on. Albert parked his truck and stepped down into the racing
wind. Uncle Philip came to mind, but Plymouth Street in Hancock Park
was quiet and peaceful. This was happening in such a natural way. This
is the way it must be, he thought, as he skipped up the front steps. The
door opened and there stood Louise, who pulled him in out of the wind.
They embraced. How good it was to be close again. They kissed and
almost forgot where they were and what they were about to do. Emily
and Gloria, carrying two suitcases, braced themselves to run out to
place the bags in the bed of the pickup. The sisters entered the foyer and
pushed their hair back. Dame Marie gave Albert an envelope.
Take this. Its from us.
River of Angels 173
Be careful. We love you. Emily tried not to cry.
Sols here, Gloria announced, looking out the window.
The four women hugged each other in a circle like they did when
they were children.
Take good care of my sister, Emily insisted.
Once youre settled, well visit. Sol promised to take us, Dame
Marie said, trying not to cry. She opened the door.
Come on, Albert. Ill follow you. Louise urged her lover to step
into the wind and to a new life.
Louise climbed into the truck, waved good-bye to her sisters and
Dame Marie. They wanted her to have a healthy baby and to be happy
with Albert. Thats all that mattered. They were so excited, waving and
jumping in the street. The wind forced them to push down their skirts.
But soon they were laughing and twirling and no longer cared if the
wind played with and lifted their skirts. The two trucks were out of
sight. They were satisfied, convinced that they were justified in helping
Louise leave their parents and, in particular, Uncle Philip. They rushed
back to the house and closed the door behind them, escaping the wind.
LOUISE HAD NOTICED that Emily, Gloria and Dame Marie came to
help her not as daddys little girls or adolescents, but as women. They
talked about what she should do, freely expressing what they really felt
without fearing their parents and, especially, hot-headed Uncle Philip.
The four women had planned this escape, this elopement. Even, they
had agreed, if their parents found out, the plan would be carried out.
They had made a pact that if their parents refused to allow Louise to
leave with Albert, all four of them would elope with Albert. Thinking of
the wonderful pact she and her sisters and Dame Marie had made,
Louise laughed, wiped tears from her eyes, and laughed again.
Whats so funny, Louise?
We are. I am. My sisters, Dame Marie and youwere all funny.
Louise turned to see if Sol was following. Sol waved at her. She
held her tummy, trying to protect her baby from the bumpy ride toward
the river. Alberts eye caught Louises profile. He drove on, desiring to
hold the beauty of her eyes and nose forever in the corner of his eye.
Albert quickly turned to see her face. Youre so beautiful, he thought,
that I dont know what to do. He slowed down as he approached the
Fourth Street bridge. A sense of comfort and safety made Louise look
174 Alejandro Morales
out over the side of the bridge to the river. People were down there brav-
ing the wind as they walked along the edge of the water flow. The wind
was calming down. Albert and she drove beyond the mid-point of the
bridge. She held tightly to what was growing inside her, feeling herself
and her child a part of the bridge, part of the bridges history. Because
both Alberts family and hers were bridge builders, she felt overwhelm-
ing pride as she moved closer to Albert. She was going to give birth,
protect the baby and babys father, no matter what the outcome. Albert
turned left into the Sun Construction Company equipment yard. Right
behind them, Sol parked his truck down by the old Ros Adobe. He
waited for them as they made their way to the path that led to the River
Mothers house.
Thousands of corners, circles, squares, points, tubes, planks, curves,
waves, angles, walls, boxes, rocks, glass, iron bars, metal sheets, wheels
and rocks gleamedand blinding lights pierced upward toward the late
afternoon sky. From up there the River Mothers house appeared magi-
cal. Since Louises last visit, the house had expanded noticeably. Sol led
the way.
Several men finished loading old rusty ice boxes. The River Moth-
er had the doors removed before sending the boxes to the metal chop-
per. She had dealt with too many tragedies concerning abandoned ice
boxes with doors that locked playing children inside to suffocate. Few
paid much attention to these killers of children. She made it a point to
collect ice boxes from the river and from the neighborhoods.
The River Mother appeared out of nowhere and embraced Sol. She
wore an elegant green satin gown, and around her waist an array of blue,
grey, brown, silver, gold silk scarves. She had embellished herself with
several diamond and pearl necklaces, emerald bracelets, ruby rings and
diamond earrings. She had made up her face with a variety of lip color,
eye shadow, and rouge. Her hair was held up with at least a dozen jew-
eled hair pins. She wore a gold and silver bejeweled crown on her head.
On each foot a different-patterned shoe was encrusted with colorful gems.
Albert and Louise smiled in amazement as the River Mother moved
to embrace them.
Senta que venas! I had a strong feeling you were coming. I
dressed up to celebrate your union. Albert, Louise, come here. Give me
a big hug. Sol, hijo mo, Ive felt your embrace since this morning.
Thats why I was sure you would arrive.
River of Angels 175
The River Mother, like a great bird, spread her arms wide. She
closed her eyes to sense her children deep at the center of her embrace.
Seeing you makes me so happy! Come in for a cold drink or hot tea.
Thank you, River Mother.
Sol, Albert and Louise drank, sat back and relaxed.
The River Mothers smile made them feel welcome and safe. She
was truly glad to have them visit.
Sol, mijo, you have the eyes of a lagartijo with a crushed tail. I
know you well. So many years you lived with me. Nothing escapes me.
Tell me what is bothering you. Maybe I can help.
Madre del Ro, I bring Albert and Louise. They need your help,
Sol spoke without a stutter.
The River Mother gazed upon Louise, studied her face, shoulders,
breast and legs. She turned to look at Albert in the same scrupulous
manner.
I understand what it is. It is a natural thing. Why do you come so
full of fear? Albert, you must do what is appropriate for this blessed
miracle. What are you waiting for?
They cant go home. Their parents will be very mad. Louises
uncle hates Albert. Now, for sure he will want revenge. Im afraid that
bringing Albert and Louise to you might put you in danger. But you can
help them!
Sol, I cant change the will of Almighty God. Louise is with child
and she will have a beautiful boy, but her son will not see the world for
the first time here.
SEVERAL CHILDREN STOPPED their games to watch a young, pret-
ty woman, a stranger in town, walk slowly from Doa Lucianas house
down the hard clay dusty street to a large garden that Doa Luciana
tended year round. No matter what season, something grew in that gar-
den. The children ran down to get a better look and to walk with her and
carry her baskets. The older children understood she was a girl who
moved slowly because she was swollen with child. Several of the chil-
dren knew that when a mothers belly became that big, the cry of anoth-
er brother or sister would soon be demanding their attention.
Me llamo Louise. She had learned some Spanish by listening to
the help at both the Rivers and Kellers houses, and from the workers at
the construction yards. She had also learned much of what she knew
176 Alejandro Morales
from Albert and Sol, and wanted to learn more. Living here, she would
surely catch on to Spanish much faster.
Louise stopped for a minute to rest and handed a basket to one of
the older girls. The children laughed around her and helped pull open
the wood and wire fence covered with hundreds of bright-colored rib-
bons for keeping animals away. Louise pointed to the tomatoes and car-
rots. The children took a basket and started to harvest the vegetables.
Two girls followed Louise to the strawberries, the first batch of the sea-
son. The girls ate as they picked the large, bright red strawberries.
In thirty minutes the children had filled the four baskets Louise had
brought. Thank God for the kids. How could I have carried these baskets
back, Louise thought, as the children walked behind her, chatting and
teasing. The older children traded off carrying the heavier baskets filled
with vegetables from Doa Lucianas garden. When they came to Doa
Lucianas front yard and the brick walkway leading to the front door,
they placed the baskets around Louise and rushed away waving, jump-
ing, laughing and shouting, Luis! Adis, Luis! amazed that Luis
could be a girls name. Louise stood at the entrance, just watching the
children move down the dirt road, running, shouting, jumping, pushing,
playing, teasing, having fun with endless energy, happy and carefree.
Louise managed to carry the baskets one by one to Doa Lucianas
semi-open kitchen that had been modified by the brickyard workers as
payment for the curanderas natural medicines and healing services. The
kitchen had been extended out to the brick back patio enclosed on two
sides with wooden planks. It had two cooking areas with brick ovens that
allowed her to cook inside the house in cool weather and out on the patio
during the hot summer months. Doa Lucianas cooking was delicious.
Louise and Albert ate everything she prepared, and Louise almost imme-
diately was able to help her prepare the many dishes the old woman
made for them and for her neighbors who at times just did not have
enough to nourish their large families. These were difficult times, but
Doa Luciana found edible sustenance throughout natures spaces.
When the children came to mind, Louise thought about why they
had left the baskets and immediately run away. The children did not
want to confront the tall stocky woman with thick bushy white hair.
They avoided Doa Luciana, always diverting their path when she
approached. The children seemed to play a game of being afraid of
Doa Luciana, but many if not most had been treated by her. The
River of Angels 177
women of the Simons company town always called on her first before
they would go to an americano male physician. They felt comfortable
asking intimate questions that only she, as a woman, could truly under-
stand. Doa Luciana and the women she had trained had brought into
the world more than seventy percent of the children born in Simons
Town. Louise quickly grew to like the strong round woman whose skin
was smooth and silky. She could be a wise woman, but not many wrin-
kles ventured across her face. As Louise carried the last basket to the
house, she stopped to feel her child move inside her, like the earth at
times moved, pushing and sliding beneath her feet. Down the road came
Doa Luciana with two canvas sacks of fruit and wild roots, leaves and
herbs. She marched confidently right up to Louise and gave her a hug.
How do you feel, hija?
Doa Luciana waited for an answer that did not come.
Louise sensed a genuine caring from this woman, who inspired a
deep fearless confidence. During these months, Louise worked for her
keep. Doa Luciana had assigned her cooking, cleaning and gardening
chores, work she claimed would prepare Louises body for a womans
giftthe pain of giving birth.
Youre almost ready, and nice and strong. The silver-haired mid-
wife facing Louise repeated a Spanish prayer for a good birth :
Trabajo
dolor del parto
lista estars
fuerte sers
Louise learned to say it to herself always. It became her song of
pregnancy and strength for birth:
Work
The pain of birth
you will be ready
you will be strong
While both women prepared the evening meal, Louise wove in
English and in Spanish her birth prayer song around thoughts of Albert
and their baby.
178 Alejandro Morales
ON THE RIVER Mothers orders, Sol had driven the eloping lovers to
Simons Town, the community of Mexican brick workers isolated on the
fringe of Los Angeles.
Dont ask how or why. Just take them there!
She told Louise to rest and not to worry, for the River Mother
already felt strong energy emanating from the baby, who would grow
powerful and do good works for humanity, just like the other children
Louise was destined to carry.
The River Mothers blessing, like a gentle but powerful wind,
pushed them on their way to Simons Town. For two weeks after Sol had
left them at Doa Lucianas, Albert had worked at simple jobs around
the brickyard. The men paid him what they could for his work, but he
never approached the foreman for a job, for fear that the foreman would
ask him to leave. He found that the people of Simons knew about Louise
and his situation. They were understanding, generous and helpful. He
was grateful for the women who had accepted Louise and invited her to
their gatherings, to church. They invited Albert and Louise to come to
celebrate baptisms, marriages, family dinners and fiestas. They made
them feel welcome and comfortable.
Unlike their parents, the Simons Town children were curious and
inquisitive, and at times it became impossible to answer their never-end-
ing questions: Why is Luisitas belly so big? My mother says that
my father makes her belly big. Alberto, are you a Mexican like us?
Its your fault, huh, Alberto? Why does Luisita have pink skin like a
little baby piggy? Where do your parents live? Youre rich, right?
Luisita is pretty and Alberto is uglyright, Luisita? After your baby
is born, are you going to live with us?
Louise and Albert eventually ignored them.
Albert hoped, in fact requested, that Sol visit every two weeks. Sol
did exactly that, every two weeks bringing the news from home. He
reported on the reactions to their elopement and news about the family
businesses. He would eagerly sit down at Doa Lucianas outdoor
kitchen table to share what he had found out and what messages he was
instructed to bring to the four sisters at Hancock Park.
Sol relayed that his parents were not angry, that they worried about
the couple, that Louise needed to see a doctor.
Albert, your father wants you back in school. You are important to
the company. Your parents want to help you. They want you back home.
River of Angels 179
Please, Sol, let them know I love them. I need to hug them, care
for them. I can take Louise to the doctor.
Albert, everybody is excited about the baby. Agatha and Allison
talk a lot about the baby. They want to see Louise and make sure she
gets the best medical care.
Allison, according to Sol, had changed her mind. Tell my daughter
I love her, that I am not angry. Tell her I want her to have the baby. I love
the baby already! Emily and Gloria want to help plan the nursery. Make
sure that Albert understands that Louises mother . . . her parents . . . want
them home safe and well. She can have the baby here. Let her know this.
She should not be afraid to return home.
Louise, you can return home any time. Your mother wants to see
you. She wants to help you get ready for the baby. Both families need
you back home.
Louise, your father loves you and wants you back home. Your par-
ents understand that you love each other. They will help you set up your
own home. Your sisters are crazy with happiness, so excited about the
baby. They want to come for a visit. I promised to bring them here.
The three sat down under a big zapote tree on benches that Albert
had made for Doa Luciana. Sol smoked a cigarette leisurely. There was
something else he was afraid to tell them. In all his visits he had brought
good family news, but there was one last bit of information to give
them. It made him uneasy, even angry, which was a rarity for Sol.
Louise and Albert speculated on what they expected to hear from
Louises Uncle Philip. Sol did not speak.
Sol, we know he is against all this. He hates Albert, and he hates
me for having Alberts baby. Louise reached for Alberts hand. I wish
my parents would tell him to mind his own business, to stop forcing his
ugly beliefs on them. Hes crazy. Im sure of it! My father does not want
to confront him. He says he is our uncle, his fathers brother. He is fam-
ily, so we cant push him away.
Youre right. Since you left, hes been at your house almost every
night. Sometimes he comes there with a very elegant group to chat with
your mother and father. Im not sure if I understand it right, but the girls
tell me that Uncle Philip and his friends talk about the family blood
being spoiled and something about mixing with inferior people. Its not
clear what they intend to do, but I know that the girls have heard him
180 Alejandro Morales
say that you and Albert should not marry and that Louise must give up
the child at birth or sooner.
IN THE MONTHS that followed Sols first reports to them, the hate of
Uncle Philip for Albert did not diminish. At one of his monthly meet-
ings with the Southern California Aryan Club, Uncle Philip explained
to the members what had happened to his niece. The membership, all
well-educated professional and business men, sympathized with
Louises situation. They concluded that she, the product of a superior
bloodline, could be saved, but Albert, a product of mixed lower-race
bloodlines, was beyond rehabilitation. The president of the group insist-
ed that they had to keep the Aryan race, their race, pure and that they
should not be afraid to eliminate from society unfit or inferior human
examples. According to Uncle Philip, Albert was clearly a social unde-
sirable. He went on to say that now, more than ever before, they had to
support the work of a scientist who proposed to purify the human race,
the Aryan race, through genetic engineering. Uncle Philip, without hes-
itation, declared himself a practitioner of the new science of eugenics.
He believed that he and others like him were chosen by God to create
and guard the planet for the Aryan race.
PHILIP KELLER BEGAN to consider these ideas soon after he attend-
ed a lecture, in 1921, by Harry H. Laughlin, a researcher at the Scripps
Institute for Biological Research in La Jolla, California. Harry H.
Laughlin went to Los Angeles, encouraged by his superiors to give a
private lecture to the Southern California Aryan Club, in hopes that the
group would make a contribution to the Scripps Institute. Uncle Philip
served as Laughlins guide during his stay in Los Angeles, and in the
few days Laughlin and Keller spent together, they became good friends.
Uncle Philip visited Laughlin and his wife in San Diego, spending
weekends discussing and absorbing without question Laughlins ideas
about the relationship between race and intelligence. Uncle Philip
eagerly listened to Laughlins every word, practically worshipping the
man, who was also one of the top scientists at the Eugenics Research
Association at Cold Spring Harbor, Long Island, New York.
Uncle Philip, with all his intelligence, had become convinced that
at one time in the history of humanity there existed a master race called
the Aryans. These great pure-blooded people were white-skinned and
River of Angels 181
blue-eyed, tall and highly intelligent. The Aryans conquered and ruled
over the dark-skinned races of Europe. They were northern people fated
by God to someday rule the entire world.
Uncle Philip was proud that he and his family were members of the
Aryan master race. And he was excited about the leadership possibili-
ties for his nieces; they were naturally superior in intelligence, and they
should go to the university. He agreed with Allison that the girls could
do whatever they wanted to do, be whatever they chose to be. They were
Aryan women. It was only natural that they aspire to the best that life
offered. But they also had to marry right. They had to produce Aryan
progeny. Uncle Philipfor the sake of the family and, most important-
ly, the master racewanted to protect the purity and the sanctity of his
bloodline, and to do this he had to protect the familys women and make
sure that they married Aryan men. He felt compelled to warn his fami-
ly about the innate inferiority of dark-skinned people and the physical
dangers and genetic risks of associating with unfit humans. Among the
most contaminated by miscegenation were Italians, Russians, Spanish
and Jews. The country had to segregate the low ape-like Negroes,
descendants of slaves. But the new immigrants entering the country
today were the most disgusting and dangerous half-breeds. The brown-
and the yellow-skinned people were the worst. They seemed to come in
hoards and disappear into their communities. These were the Chinese,
Japanese and Mexicans. And even worse were the filthy, syphilitic
drunksthe so-called American Indians. All of these races populated
the countrys prisons and mental institutions. Uncle Philip learned that
Laughlins research indicated that the majority of the new immigrants
were defective, subhuman, the majority of whom had an intelligence
quotient of below seventy, officially classified as morons by the Eugen-
ics Records Office. These subhuman races, Uncle Philip believed, had
to be stopped from breeding, which justified sterilization of men and,
most definitely, women, who, being of a lower race, tended to mate with
any man available. The sterilization procedure could be involuntary,
done without their knowledge until a law was passed to require this nec-
essary procedure. A program of elimination had to be planned and fol-
lowed to maintain America as a country of racial purity. These programs
had to be set up with haste and urgency. The future well-being and sur-
vival of the Aryan master race depended on them.
182 Alejandro Morales
Throughout the years since his arrival in Southern California and
increasingly after his introduction to Harry H. Laughlin, Philip Keller
read, listened and accepted without question certain biological and
social theories that supported the idea of the master race. He and his fel-
low Aryan Cub members met regularly with other organizations that
supported the new emerging Germany. On occasion he attended four-
day, and sometimes longer retreats, at what he called master race
colonies located in one of the many canyons that carved a path to the
sea from the small mountain ranges and hills that surrounded the Los
Angeles basin. From these Aryan compounds, Uncle Philip reemerged
assured that his beliefs in a natural superior race were true and justified.
He became dogmatic and never hesitated to impose his ideas on his
family. Ernest and Allison were very acquainted with his racial ideas,
and Emily, Gloria and Louise from infancy had been subjected to their
uncles superior-race diatribes. Even after Allison had argued and pro-
hibited him from talking to the girls about his beliefs, he persisted.
You must understand, its for their own good. For the good of all
of us!
He had a mission to educate his nieces to defend themselves against
the subhuman now invading Southern California.
Please listen. Scientists can prove that there are differences in
intelligence among people.
He often attempted to tell them stories of the ancient master race.
They were white-skinned, blue-eyed, tall and genius Nordic people. The
Aryans are our ancestors. Girls, the Kellers are descendants of the Aryan
race. You must beware of the inferior human beings, the dark-skinned
people who degenerate the pure-blooded American race. These mongrel-
race mixtures are feeble-minded morons who produce defective children.
Their women are naturally immoral and promiscuous and mate freely like
wild animals. Their offspring are always reprobate children who eventu-
ally fill the countrys prisons and mental institutions. The immigrants
coming into the country today are mostly these inferior hordes. Never
associate with the dark-skinnedavoid the Indians, Chinks and Negroes
altogether. Listen to your Uncle Philip and you will be safe.
Uncle Philip supported legislation forbidding sexual intercourse
and marriage between blacks and whites. He championed Darwins the-
ories and believed that biology determined a natural racial supremacy.
River of Angels 183
The lower races should ultimately be annihilated, destroyed for the ben-
efit of the Aryan race.
Do not associate with biologically defective, mentally inadequate
sub humans, Uncle Philip repeatedly reminded the Kellers.
As a steadfast believer in the science of eugenics, he donated funds
to buy property to establish colonies in Southern California where peo-
ple could move and live the life prescribed by the eugenicists. He
financed lectures, published and distributed pamphlets throughout Los
Angeles. After his physical, emotional and financial recovery, he was
gratified that finally a European country was going to do something
about the defective lower races and the Jews in their society.
BEING PREGNANT, FEELING her body change, inside and out, made
Louise nervous and, at other moments, happy and joyous, knowing that
a beautiful creature was growing inside of her. This pregnancy was forc-
ing her to expand, to hold her belly with her baby and walk slowly as
she recalled her uncles horrible words. Dark-skinned people had
accepted her and now walked with her to the Cinco de Mayo celebra-
tion held in a plaza-like field behind the administration building, the
company store, the recreation hall, the small restaurant, post office and
bachelors quarters of the Simons Brick Company No. 3, located just
south of Montebello.
Doa Luciana, the grandmother figure who took her in and would
deliver her baby, walked at Louises side. Several Simons Town children
took turns holding Louises hand. The children walked proudly, escort-
ing the beautiful gringa who had appeared one day in front of Doa
Lucianas house. In these months, as her baby grew, time had gone by
quickly while Louise learned a great deal about Mexican life, helping
Doa Luciana do her daily chores, visit her patients and other pregnant
young girls, even some women who in their late thirties, early forties
were having their seventh or tenth child.
Doa Luciana and Louise took seats near the front, where they
could see, up close, the Simons orchestra prepare and tune up for the
concert. The orchestra occupied a wood stage that Simons workers had
constructed for its performances as well as for those of the folk dancers,
speakers and for Mr. Walter Simons and his family. Children played
between the rows of seats and ran behind the orchestra while parents
chatted with neighbors. Louise missed her family, but her hearts place,
184 Alejandro Morales
she told Doa Luciana, was next to Albert. For Albert it had been a long
day. He had gone to the university to submit an engineering paper and
talk with his professors about his absences. In the afternoon he worked
at a building site in East Los Angeles, where Sun Construction Compa-
ny was putting up several small factories and warehouses. Several days
earlier, Albert had sent word to his father that he would return to work
before the Cinco de Mayo celebration. He did not see his father. Instead
he went with Sol to the job site and started immediately.
The orchestra continued tuning up as people milled around, buying
food and drinks and other products that outside vendors had brought in
for the Simons celebration. There was still time, Louise thought. The
baby moved. She gently patted her tummy. She was tired and it was
easy to close her eyes just for a minute to rest. A Straus waltz woke her
right up. She blinked and blinked, again and again, finally realizing she
was in Simons Town, sitting in front of a thirty-piece orchestra that
played to an audience of one hundred seated Mexicans. The seats
behind her were all taken, and still a crowd of hundreds stood listening
to the magnificent waltz. Albert was nowhere to be seen. She turned to
find him standing right in front of her.
How did you do that! she shouted over the music.
They moved away from the music to a huge avocado tree that stood
at least thirty feet high. Albert and Louise sat down on the bench sur-
rounding the large trunk. Everybody protected the communal tree and
picked the many avocados that the tree abundantly produced every year.
The orchestra played on under the lights shining down on the stage. So
many people had come tonight. Many gringos came from outside the
community to dance to the waltzes and to the current popular big band
tunes of the day, as well as to buy tamales, chicken moles, menudo,
pozole, fried rabbit, horchata, aguas dulces, buuelos, pan dulce,
elotes, heladosfood to eat there or take homeand to see the spec-
tacular fireworks that would fill the evening sky. At a safe distance, in
the middle of a broken brick fire ring, the men started a bonfire. People
walked around the fire. Young women walked in one direction and
young men walked in the opposite direction. Louise now knew the cus-
tom. Slowly the crowd circling became mostly couples. Parents and
chaperones watched from a distance, giving their daughters and sons the
space to court openly. To Louise the music sounded especially wonder-
River of Angels 185
ful. She cradled her head in Alberts arms. They watched and listened.
The orchestra began to play another waltz.
Louise, I have something for you.
She sat up. Men threw more wood into the growing bonfire.
Louise, please, I have this ring. . . . Will you marry me?
The music stopped and the musicians walked off the stage to
resounding applause. Albert and Louise noticed the musicians joining
various gatherings of people. Some went to drink a beer, others picked
up their children, others embraced their wives, and a few walked by
smoking cigarettes. Everyone congratulated the musicians, patted them
on the back and shook their hands, appreciating their talent and the mar-
velous music they had performed. Simons residents, in particular, took
great pride in the hard-working musicians, all of them Simons brickyard
workers who labored twelve to fourteen hours a day and then practiced
their instruments individually; on rare evenings, they rehearsed togeth-
er as an orchestra.
The music had stopped abruptly, cutting off Alberts proposal of
marriage and, worse, Louise had not answered. Should I ask again? he
thought. Maybe she didnt hear me. Louise stood up. He stood up. She
took both his hands.
Yes, yes, I will marry you.
She hugged him and led him to join the couples walking around the
bonfire. That Cinco de Mayo the musicians played late into the night,
and there were more fireworks than usual. For Albert and Louise, every-
thing seemed greater than ever before.
ALBERT HAD ASKED Sol to make sure the ring was available. Sol
had described the large diamond solitaire buried in the mud and high
grass on the constantly changing edges of the river. The diamond want-
ed to return to the human world and had pushed its golden circular host
upward to the surface to rest on fine green river moss. On one hot day,
the sun shined down intensely on Los Angeles. Thousands of people
scattered up and down the river, seeking shade under large river trees,
umbrellas, tarps and towels stretched on wooden stakes. They walked
into the cool water of marshy side streams, jumped into swimming
holes, waded along waist-high canals and swam in the deep river pools
that formed after heavy rains in the mountains. People leisurely walked
the edges searching for a spot to claim and eager to get into the water.
186 Alejandro Morales
The diamonds sparkle had never caught anyones eye. The river had
given Sol so many wonderful objects that he automatically searched
whenever walking its banks. A brilliant sparkle caught his eye on that
sizzling day, and he cautiously moved closer to see it better. The bright
twinkle appeared, but this time it reached out with a red and a blue tiny
flash. It again sparked up from on top of the moss, this time even more
brilliantly. Another vase, Sol thought. He was only a few feet away.
With such radiance Sol expected a larger object. He stood at the center
of the source. He spun around and then spun in the opposite direction,
but saw nothing. It must be the sun, the river and the heat playing tricks.
He looked down between and around his boots. A couple walked by
with three children. Sol smiled at them. He felt foolish standing and
slowly sinking into a moss bed. He lifted his right boot, stepped on more
solid footing, and set his eyes on his left boot to pull it out of the moss
when he saw the magnificent diamond ring in the middle of his right
boot print. He squatted down, picked up the ring and held it to the sun.
Sol dropped to his knees and quickly stuck the ring in his pocket. A
young man stopped and extended his hand to Sol.
Take my hand. Youre sinking, mister.
Sol took the mans hand because he realized he could not rise from
the mud that was slowly sucking him down deeper. He heard a woman
calling for help. Three men came running up to see the mud hugging
Sols waist. Two men with no fear or hesitation quickly and gingerly
found the solid edge of the sinkhole and grabbed Sols arms and pulled.
By then more men had arrived to pull him out. Several women brought
buckets of water to clean the mud off his clothes.
Sol placed his hands on his pockets that were full of mud. His heart
raced. He pushed harder against his right pocket and clearly felt the
ring. He smiled and stood up to thank the people, but most had now
walked on, searching for a place to fit in at the rivers edge. The young
man, the first to help, turned back to wave good-bye.
Gracias, joven, gracias!
Sol waved back at the family.
THE RIVER MOTHER and Sol took the ring to Mr. Chou, the jeweler
in Chinatown. Ever since the jewelers appraisal, the River Mother had
stored the ring as part of her river treasures collection. Sol had gone to
her and explained Alberts intention to marry Louise and said that he
River of Angels 187
wanted to buy the ring. The River Mother offered the ring to Albert as
a wedding gift.
I dont want money. The ring is a gift para mi querida Louise from
Our Lady of the River, Nuestra Seora la Reina de Los Angeles del Ro
de la Porcincula.
It took days to finally agree on plans for the wedding. Albert had
asked Louise to accept the precious diamond engagement ring. Sol
agreed to be his best man. Louise asked Dame Marie to be her maid of
honor, and Emily and Gloria were to be bridesmaids and witnesses. The
girls were so excited about Albert and Louise getting married. Everyone
and everything was ready for Albert to marry Louise. On the wedding
morning the sun had a hard time burning away the low, thick marine
layer that worked its way to the foothills. Drizzle covered the streets,
houses, cars, every uncovered surface. Albert and Louise got up early
and put on new clothes for their wedding day. Louise definitely showed
her pregnant condition. Albert was nervous and could not eat the break-
fast that Doa Luciana had prepared for them. Sol arrived dressed in a
blue suit. Albert and Louise complimented him on how nice he looked.
Sol tried not to show that such compliments embarrassed him. He just
was not used to hearing such niceties addressed to him. He drank two
cups of coffee, then a third, and wondered what was taking Albert and
Louise so long to get umbrellas from their room. He waited a little
longer, but nothing happened.
We have an appointment at nine, Sol called out loudly. Por favor,
Albert, vmonos ya. If you are late, I dont think theyll marry you.
When Albert and Louise heard Sols insistent calls, they both froze
seated on the side of their bed, thinking about what they were about to
do. Every doubt and fear fell upon them in that instant. They did not
have to say a word. They both knew what the other was thinking. They
also understood they had to do the right thing for their baby. They stood
up, held hands and walked directly to Sols truck.
In front of the Los Angeles City Hall at 200 North Spring, Albert
and Louise, Dame Marie, Gloria, Emily and Sol contemplated the stairs
leading up to the entrance of the tall obelisk building crowned by a
pyramid. They bravely ascended, climbed the stairs to the second floor,
where they searched for room 205B, to see the justice of the peace, a
judge authorized by law to pronounce the civil ceremony of marriage.
The couple and their entourage found the chambers empty. By 9:15
188 Alejandro Morales
A.M. a man entered carrying a black robe that appeared to have been
cleaned, and he was delivering it.
Good morning, the man sang out. The sun is out bright and
happy now.
He walked through the chambers, entered a back room. After a
short while the same man stuck his head out from behind the door.
Who is getting married today?
Albert and Louise and their group stood up and waved their hands.
The man smiled and giggled, still leaning out from behind the door.
That cant be! There are too many women! Now, I repeat: Who is
getting married this bright morning?
Sol pushed Albert and Louise forward.
We are, Mr. Judge, sir.
All right, now we got it. Just a moment, let me get my ledger! Be
right back. Dont you dare go.
The judge went away and took his time getting back. His absence
elevated the nervousness of the bride and groom. More than a half hour
went by and the judge had not returned. The wedding party was becom-
ing more concerned, when the judges head again appeared from behind
the door.
Were all here now.
He entered the chambers with a clerk and a guard. At the instant he
approached, the couples every action, voice, thought, perception
seemed to slow down. The movement of all present occurred in a slow
motion that convoluted understanding. The judge welcomed all who
accompanied Albert and Louise and gave his name in a grandiose man-
ner. The sound of it floated in the air, filling every space in the echoing
chamber. Albert and Louise followed the sound of his name, but failed
to understand and remember it. Events moved slowly, making actions
clear and sudden. Albert and Louise and the wedding entourage
watched themselves participate in their marriage ceremony. It all
unfolded peacefully with a magnificent unconditional love. Suddenly
without feeling the rings, they appeared on Albert and Louises fingers.
You may kiss your wife. Albert, come on, man, give your beauti-
ful wife a kiss!
The judge nudged the newlyweds together to make them kiss. He
raised his hands above his head and applauded. The clerk and the guard
encouraged Sol, Dame Marie, Gloria and Emily to join in the rejoicing.
River of Angels 189
Now just sign my official record book. Both of you, of course, and
I will give you your marriage certificate, with my signature, of course!
Dame Marie, Gloria and Emily embraced each other, the guard, the
clerk, Sol. They didnt quite get to the judge, who waved goodbye from
behind his office door.
God bless you, children. Be off. Do good things for humanity and
love and have a healthy and happy life.
The judge closed the door. The clerk and the guard disappeared.
Albert and Louise looked around, stunned that it was over so quickly.
Sol went to the judges door. It was locked. Upon touching it, he got the
sensation that it had never been opened.
After the ceremony they left the Los Angeles City Hall, still a little
taken aback by what had happened and not happened during the civil
marriage ritual in the justice of the peace chambers. Sol drove Albert
and Louise, with the young ladies following in Dame Maries car, to
dinner at the River Mothers dwelling. After dinner, Sol described the
strange courthouse ceremony and the curious judge who had married
Albert and Louise. The River Mother heard the end of Sols explana-
tion. Dios mo! Sol, dont you understand that two lives intertwined.
This hardly happens. The judge is an ordinary man. If you see him
tomorrow, he will seem like another person, a different man from the
one you encountered today. Enough of these strange things. Lets go
eat. Dame Marie, Gloria and Emily drove home happy that their sister
Louise had married the man she loved. Sol chauffeured Albert and
Louise back to their one-room apartment at Doa Lucianas house. As
Sol drove, he got the feeling that a truck and several cars had followed
them to Simons. Who would follow them other than men Uncle Philip
hired to watch them, Sol thought, looking into the rearview mirror?
IT DIDNT MAKE much sense: the pain for so much joy. Her face
twisted as if made of rubber from the effort and agony of pushing the
baby out of her body all morning long. Louise had tensed and clenched
and screamed in pain with mighty earthquake contractions that tight-
ened every muscle in her body. Doa Luciana and four neighbors assist-
ed her with the delivery of the baby. The shifting of the earths plates
lasted minutes and more minutes and suddenly a little body was out into
the arms of the old white-haired lady. Doa Luciana cut the cord and
gave the baby to a woman who cleaned the blood and afterbirth as the
infant gave out his first cries. Louise had given light to a boy, a perfect
190 Alejandro Morales
boy. The women made sure that Louise was stable, that she was not
bleeding. They brought her water and brought the child to her. Louise
held her newborn on her chest, wept, smiled, laughed. The women
joined her in her laughter. So much effort and pain for so much joy. A
sudden peace and silence fell on the women as they stood around moth-
er and child, and shared in a womans magic power.
Louise continued to cry and express gratitude to Doa Luciana and
the women who still worked around her, making sure that she and the
baby were well. After Doa Luciana had wrapped the cord and the pla-
centa in a leather pouch, she checked again to see if Louise had stopped
bleeding. She opened the door and faced Sol, Emily, Gloria and Dame
Marie, who waited with Albert. She begged them to enter. Albert saw
the baby, and tears began to run down his face. He had never felt such
happiness in his life. Life had begun again, and Louise had made it hap-
pen. Louise had given him a new earth, sun, day and night. She shifted
the blanket away from the infants face.
Look at our baby, Albert. Isnt he beautiful?
Albert stood, awed by both mother and child.
Louise lifted the baby toward him. One of the women placed the
baby in Alberts arms saying, Ay, muchacho, dont be afraid!
Doa Luciana said, Al nio grande le va dar un patats! This big
boys going to have a heart attack! and the women laughed.
Habla, muchacho, habla. Doa Luciana patted him briskly on the
back, asking him to say something.
Gracias, Louise. I love you, Louise. Albert held his baby while
Louise observed her two men.
SOL, DAME MARIE and Louises two sisters had kept their parents
apprised of the progress of the pregnancy. As long as Louise and Albert
were in good health, they did not interfere. They were afraid that their
intervention would push them away even farther. Their parents simply
made sure their children had what they needed. Albert and Louise knew
that they were safe. If they ever needed help, it was not far away. Uncle
Philip visited his nephew, Ernest, more often as the birth came closer.
Now, even in his presence, the girls talked openly about Albert and
Louise. They referred to where they lived, whom they lived with and
how they were doing. Emily and Gloria did not hold back their feelings
about how happy they were for their sister, how happy they were that
River of Angels 191
she had married the man she loved. In their way, the sisters let Philip
know to leave Albert and Louise alone.
Still, Uncle Philip felt it his duty to continue to try to convince his
nephew and wife that Albert and Louises relationship was not accept-
able. Once the birth occurred, Uncle Philip expressed his anger as never
before, assuring everyone that allowing this clandestine marriage to
continue would certainly not erase the public disgrace suffered by
Louise and the family. He accused Ernest and Allison of being hyp-
ocrites who had lost respect for the family and, above all, for him.
Our family has now descended into the category of mongrel, the
mixed-blood castes that the Spanish created by their fornication with
the vile, low native races of the New World. And raising his voice:
The castes are labels used to identify the subhuman products of inter-
racial unions: horrible names like mulato, mestizo, zambo, and many
others that I have heard at the Aryan Club. Dont you understand how
youve allowed our superior bloodline to be tainted? You have to do
something about this situation, Ernest. You cant allow this to go on!
No more, Philip! Weve heard this rant too many times before.
Philip was aghast at the lack of respect from his nephew, whom he
had taken under his wing practically since his teenage years.
Do not interfere, Uncle Philip, and dont get your colleagues from
your club to intervene either. Stay away from Albert and Louise.
LOUISE AND ALBERT held their baby on a beautiful Southern Cali-
fornia afternoon, listening to birds chirping, a few dogs barking, chil-
dren playing and two women speaking loudly on their way to the
Simons company store. In the open kitchen Doa Luciana prepared din-
ner while the new family rested as Louise breastfed her newborn. Hav-
ing heard repeatedly about Uncle Philips tirades, they had told each
other that what he thought and said did not matter.
Im afraid he is going to drop dead in the middle of one of his fits,
Louise said. We can live like normal people, loving each other and lov-
ing our baby. All I want is for all of us to be happyour families, and
even Uncle Philip. Lousie then recited St. Francis of Assisis famous
prayer:
Make me, O Lord, an instrument of Your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
192 Alejandro Morales
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
Where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master,
Grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console;
To be understood as to understand;
To be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Amen.
River of Angels 193
The ultimate weakness of violence is
that it is a descending spiral,
begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy.
Returning violence for violence multiplies violence,
adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars.
Darkness cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
PART FOUR
A
lbert and Louise left Simons after Doa Luciana organized a farewell
feast with the help of the women who had assisted in the birth of
Keller Oakley Rivers. The Simons workers and their families were
invited to eat, drink and say their good-byes with farewell abrazos that
communicated their sincere hope that the young family would come
back, at least to visit. The Simons residents understood that it was
impossible for the young newlyweds and their baby to stay. The Simons
company foreman had told Albert that there was no work or housing for
his family and that they had to leave soon. Father Charles, the priest
from Mount Carmel Church, came to bless Keller and his parents.
Five months after Kellers birth, Albert and Louise drove out from
the Simons company town in Alberts pickup truck filled with blankets,
quilts, baby clothes, freshly baked Mexican pastries, fresh fruits and
vegetables and toys made by Simons artisans. Albert and Louise had
mixed feelings about leaving Simons, where they had found a place and
a people who had accepted them unconditionally.
Sol had informed the Rivers and the Keller families that Albert,
Louise and Baby Keller were returning home. They wanted to know in
which home they should be welcomed. Sol had talked to both families
195
and suggested, considering Uncle Philips visits to his nephews home,
the newlyweds and child go to the Rivers residence. In that way con-
frontation between Uncle Philip and Albert would be avoided. Both
families were present when they walked into the Rivers living room. At
first there was a silence, then applause and cooing at the newborn.
Albert with Louise holding their baby stepped to the center of the
room, Thank you, Mother, Father, Mr. and Mrs. Keller, Dame Marie,
Gloria, Emily, Sol. We are so happy to be back with family. I want you
to know that I am old enough, and Louise is also, to take on the respon-
sibilities of marriage and family. We are very happy and we thank you
for your help.
Applause filled the Rivers living room. Ernest stood up to
approach Albert, but Allison pulled him back down on the sofa.
At that moment, years of love and care for his eldest daughter
rushed to Ernests heart as Louise stood before him. A noisy car sped by
the house, birds chirped and dogs barked in a neighbors backyard. In
the Rivers living room, Louise confidently gazed into her fathers eyes
and sat down next to him, her body ever so close to his. She held her
child out to him.
Father, I want you to meet your grandson. She placed the smiling
infant in his arms. Keller Oakley Rivers, she proudly announced.
When the baby was in Ernests arms, Allison pulled the blanket
down and the baby kicked and looked at her.
He is beautiful, Louise!
Allison saw how Louise was so happy and seemingly at peace with
her life. Louise did not reflect the horrible circumstances predicted by
her parents well-intentioned friends. Louise and her baby were the pic-
ture of health and happiness.
Allison succeeded, finally, in retrieving her grandson from Ernest
and cradled him in her arms and then walked over to Agatha and Oak-
ley, who observed quietly, standing by the fireplace.
Allison cried softly, wiping tears from her face. Oh, Agatha, hes
so beautiful! Here, take him, please. Im getting him all wet with my
silly crying.
Everyone laughed. Even Ernest let out a loud laugh that released
the fear he had held inside about his daughter and the baby. Agatha took
the baby. Oakley, Dame Marie, Emily and Gloria crowded around. In
front of the Oakley Rivers home on Plymouth Street in Hancock Park,
Los Angeles, a panel truck parked in the street. Three men pulled down
196 Alejandro Morales
mowing machines, rakes, shovels, ladders and pruning clippers, equip-
ment to tend to the garden. The men were joyfully shouting orders, kid-
ding each other and chuckling as they started to rake, trim and mow.
Sol walked into the living room while Agatha and Oakley were sit-
ting on the couch, holding their grandchild and chatting with Allison,
who held Ernests hand. Ernest had regained his composure, and the
energy he had spent on worrying had been transformed into tenderness
for the beautiful baby boy his daughter had given him. Dame Marie,
Gloria, Emily sat at the dining table with Louise and Albert, and
watched as Ernest slowly rocked Keller. Life seemed to settle down
again. Baby Keller had brought two families closer than they had ever
been, and everyone, all the present members of the Rivers and Keller
clans, eagerly wanted to do their part to make life as easy as possible for
the newlyweds and baby and for each other. For an instant Sol sensed a
new harmony that originated in the child and enveloped the families. He
almost forgot why he had come. He reached into several of his pockets
and finally pulled out two sets of keys he had gotten that morning at the
locksmiths.
Oakley, las llaves. Sol placed the keys in the middle of the dining
table.
Oakley nodded toward his son. These are for you, Albert.
The little cottage at the back of the garden . . . the one we used for
storage and once in a while the workers would stay there . . . You know
which one, son. Sol and several crews from Ernests and our company
have turned it into a bungalow: two bedrooms, a big bathroom, a kitchen
and a living room with a view of the little forest. Its for Louise, Keller
and you for as long as you need it. The workers made the furniture.
When they were told it was for the both of you, they worked so hard to
get it ready. They really care for the both of you. They love you. Oak-
ley paused, choked up, looked around for someone else to speak up.
We dont want you to go away! Emily called out.
At least not very far away, Louise. Gloria smiled, then went to
hug her sister.
STARS, THE MILKY Way, appeared like a sheet of diamonds across
the Los Angeles night sky. Allison and Agatha had worked hard to make
the transition from the Simons company town to Hancock Park smooth
for Albert, Louise and Keller. With Louises consent, they had arranged
a home visit by an obstetrician/gynecologist and a general practitioner
River of Angels 197
to examine Louise and the baby on a regular basis. Louise and her
mother had previously communicated by way of Sol. The day had final-
ly come, the move happened, medical arrangements were agreed upon
by all parties concerned. While Albert and Louise were moving into
their new cottage, their mothers stayed up late talking about Louise and
Albert, how they had come together, how they had fallen in love.
Agatha and Allison sat at the kitchen table with a pot of tea and an
assortment of Jewish pastry from Cantors Deli that Allison had bought
that day. A second set of candles burned brightly.
These burn too fast. Theyre expensive, too, Agatha complained.
The candelabras are gorgeous.
Sol gave them to me. He found them in the river. He says the two
pieces are very old.
What would we do without him? Sol is so good with the children.
You dont have to speak so softly. Everyone is sound asleep. They
cant hear us from the kitchen. Havent we had this conversation before?
Dj vu. I know we talked about this several times before, Allison.
Its good that we can openly discuss these family matters, dont
you think?
Why? Are we guilty of something? Is it our fault this happened?
Well, Agatha, I think that Ive said this beforeits mainly my
fault. Remember, it was me who asked you to allow Albert to tutor
Louise. I kept insisting because he was, he is, the best. I pushed them
together, and I kept them together even when it became obvious they
were attracted to each other. I did nothing to stop it when I knew they
were lovers. At first, I stupidly thought it was cute, and then when I
heard Dame Marie, Gloria and Emily talking secretly, giggling about
what Albert and Louise were doing, I didnt know what to do. I just
prayed they were going to be fine. But it was Uncle Philip who silenced
me. He blamed all that happened on Albert, and if I stopped the rela-
tionship, I would be saying that he was right all along, that Albert cor-
rupted Louise, that he took advantage of her innocence, seduced and
raped her. . . .
Dont say those things, Allison! Dont even think it! If you make
that statement in public, people will believe it. Itll make the situation
worse than what it is. Already the gossip is ugly. Your Uncle Philip just
keeps feeding the fire. Public gossip will move on. People will eventu-
ally stop talking. Public memory is short. Theyll forget. Albert and
Louise are our children and they did nothing wrong. They simply fell in
198 Alejandro Morales
love. Its not your fault, not mineits Cupids. Stop punishing your-
self, and, for Gods sake, dont make such crazy exaggerated state-
ments, and dont use the word rape in any way to describe their rela-
tionship! Please dont ever say that again, Allison, never again.
That night Agatha and Allison came even closer together than they
had been. When the sun came up, they had an unspoken plan. Agatha
and Allison knew exactly how each would respond to the public gossip
about their children, to the harsh criticism about their parenting and to
the many well-intentioned suggestions on how to solve the problem,
resolve the shame or how to eliminate the reminder of the childrens sin-
ful behavior. Some friends suggested, not to them directly, that the fam-
ily should disinherit Albert and Louise, kick them out of the house and
force them to make their own way. If theyre old enough to make babies,
theyre old enough to take care of themselves. The criticisms of Louise
were more of pity, of feeling sorry for her. Some women saw her as a
victim of infatuation, in love with love, and others regarded her as a
young innocent girl deflowered by a monster. The men attacked Albert
as the cause of the newlyweds ruin and shame.
If it was my sister, I would strip, beat and tar the guy.
Shaming my daughter would mean big trouble for the spoiled rich
brat.
Calmly and patiently, Agatha and Allison listened to indirect refer-
ences and to direct complaints about Albert. The response from Los
Angeles famous and wealthy was derisive. Nevertheless, Agatha and
Allison spoke openly of how proud they were of Albert, Louise and
Keller. They were ecstatic about the beautiful baby boy given them. As
parents and grandparents, they promised the ladies of the various phil-
anthropic clubs that the newlyweds life would be easy and comfortable.
After all, theyre in love, theyre married, they have a delightful
baby boy and they make us happy. Theyre a family and they bring joy
to our families. There is no shame in what they did.
Agatha and Allison continued to communicate their feelings with
words and to make generous donations to philanthropies in the names
of Albert, Louise and Keller Rivers. Not one organization turned the
funds down. A few groups were shocked by the source of the money, but
after looking at the checks, they quickly accepted and immediately sent
flowers and greeting cards to Mr. and Mrs. Albert Rivers and Family.
The gossip and criticism soon subsided. But Uncle Philips ill will not
River of Angels 199
only did not cease, it increased. Overt threats were made by Uncle
Philip and his comrades in the Southern California Aryan Club.
WHILE ALBERT, LOUISE and Keller lived comfortably in their cozy
cottage, the family designed and had built on the east side of the river a
large house with views of downtown. After a years wait for construc-
tion to be finished, the familys second celebration took place, this one
in the new house in Boyle Heights. The photographer flashed the lamp
and asked Albert and Louise to hold their positions once again. Dressed
in a tuxedo, Albert stood tall and proud of his wife, Louise, who was
wearing a white wedding dress that Allison and Agatha had helped
select. Agatha and Allison insisted on having the wedding for family
and friends. Of course, in her eldest daughters wedding, Allison want-
ed to be involved in every aspect of the planning. She was excited about
the ceremony, the menu and the guest list.
Albert and Louise went along with their mothers plan, although
they had told them that a public wedding was not necessary. They were
already married. Nonetheless, the mothers insisted. Albert and Louise
worried that their mothers did not believe them. Louise brought out the
marriage certificate, held it up for everyone to see and got Emily and
Gloria to verify that they had been witnesses. Dame Marie said she, too,
was present at City Hall, where a justice of the peace had performed the
ceremony.
Yes, we know youre legally married, but we want a more tradi-
tional ceremony. Please dont refuse us this simple request. We want a
wedding.
It was no use resisting Agatha and Allison. They had made up their
minds.
Fine, well go through another wedding, but Albert and I have one
request. We want the ceremony to take place in our new house. We want
family and friends to share it with us, share our delight in the house, the
views and the sunset.
Louise walked out to the long balcony that ran across the entire sec-
ond floor of the house overlooking the river and beyond to Los Angeles
and Santa Monica. The house was built by Sun Construction on one of the
highest and largest lots in Boyle Heights. It had a view of the First Street
bridge, the Sun Construction Boyle Heights Yard and Keller Construction
Company on the river, the old Abelardo and Toypurina Ros house and
farther upriver the River Mothers imposing ever-changing abode glim-
200 Alejandro Morales
mering in the setting sun. After the mothers took in the view, they agreed
to have the wedding at Albert and Louise Rivers new residence.
From the time Oakley and Ernest had approved the purchase of the
lot and completed drafting the plans for the house, Agatha and Allison
had started shopping for furniture, appliances, linens, rugs, curtains and
drapes, dishware, silverware, a complete nursery and more of what, in
their opinion, a perfect home needed for a young family. They had pur-
chased or ordered furniture from the most expensive home design stores
in the city. Louise accompanied the mothers, often unwillingly.
This is your house, Louise . . .
Yes, its a little unclear to me whose house youre talking about.
Oh, Louise, your mother and I are only trying to help.
We want you to pick out the furniture. Those rooms need to be
decorated, furnished with the best. You make a selection, and well
show you what we like. What do you want in the babys room?
The mothers had made a prior selection of items before they had
even taken Louise to the stores. They were obsessed with creating the
perfect house. They had learned from decorating their own houses
which amenities to have and which to reject. The mothers just wanted
their children to be happy, but this was a way of participating in their
childrens happiness.
Oakley and Ernest had doubled the crews, and in a little more than
eight months, thanks to good weather and dedicated workers, they ham-
mered in the last nail, tightened the last bolt, painted the exterior and
interior. With exceeding pride, Oakley and Ernest finally placed the
keys in Albert and Louises hands. As if carefully planned down to the
minute, the furniture started to arrivealong with the two mothers, who
helped direct where the pieces would be placed in each room of the
three-story home. Louise, holding the baby, raised her eyebrows to her
husband in capitulation to her mother and mother-in-law.
It took three days for all the furniture to arrive and be perfectly sit-
uated in the rooms. When the last deliveryman left the house, the moth-
ers stood in the middle of the living room and complimented Louise on
making what they considered excellent up-to-date selections of fine fur-
nishings. The interior of the house was magnificent, rich in rare woods,
expensive furniture, rugs and lamps. In all aspects of design, decoration
and architecture, it was the best that money and the mothers could buy.
The exterior and the landscaping equaled the interior in expense and
beauty. With a Sun Construction crew, Sol designed, excavated and con-
River of Angels 201
structed a patio and swimming pool, surrounded by pergolas and gar-
dens similar to those at Il Castelluccio that Albert and Louise had
always enjoyed visiting. One evening Albert, Louise and Baby Keller
were relaxing on the back porch, engrossed in the splendid sunset over
Los Angeles and beyond to the Santa Monica shore.
Albert, this is the home our parents insisted on? I was happy with
the little cottage in the back garden of your house. We were comfortable
there.
Albert leaned forward and chuckled, quietly amused. Deep down in
his heart, he felt satisfied and happy. Well, I guess this is our parents
version of a starter home.
The baby had fallen asleep, and Louise joined in her husbands aura
of contentment. She snuggled Keller. All this is our vindication, she
thought.
During the building of the house, Uncle Philip never stopped
reminding Ernest and Allison that building Albert and Louise a house
was rewarding bad behavior, rewarding the miscegenation that was
ruining their family bloodline.
The marriage must be annulled! It is illegal. Dont you know that
in California marriage between a white person on one side and Negroes,
Mongolians, mulattoes or mongrels like Albert is considered illegal and
void? Now youve allowed the situation to get worse with the birth of
this child. He more than likely has a morons intelligence, like his
father. They have committed a crime and could be charged. Havent we
been embarrassed enough, Ernest? Allison, please listen to me!
Uncle Philips declaration verged on hysteria but never was laugh-
able. In other countries peoples lives were more than threatened by these
beliefs propagated by groups like the Southern California Aryan Club.
THE WEDDING TOOK place in the home of Mr. and Mrs. Albert and
Louise Rivers. The newly constructed and exquisitely decorated home
was the focus of talk during the wedding ceremony performed by an
Episcopal priest. The reception and dinner was catered by Adolph Sad
Statter, proprietor/chef of the famous Martys Restaurant.
The wedding was a huge success. All the invitees were present.
Only a few complained about what was interpreted as the gruffness of
the hosts, Ernest and Oakley. The guests wanted to go on drinking late
into the morning hours, but as the party slowed down about twelve-thir-
ty in the morning, Ernest and Oakley began to say thank you and good-
202 Alejandro Morales
bye, and by one-thirty most of the guests were gone, bringing this sec-
ond wedding to a fast but pleasant end. The next morning the social gos-
sip centered on the rudeness of the hosts, and within a few days the gos-
sip network had turned them into crude social misfits. Yet most of the
attendees had a wonderful experience, such a great time that as time
went on, the inappropriate behavior of Ernest and Oakley was eventual-
ly forgotten.
Unfortunately, Ernest and his son-in-law, Albert, had words on the
morning after the party because of Uncle Philips undisguised disap-
proval of the marriage. Ernest sent a note of apology to Albert, Louise
and Baby Keller, but Albert did not let go of the hurt and anger his
father-in-laws uncle had caused him and his family. After weeks of car-
rying a tight knot of anger in his throat and chest, Albert finally let go
of his resentment. It was due to his love for Louise and Baby Keller that
he could not separate himself or Louise from her loving family. It would
be cruel to keep Keller away from his grandparents. Albert wanted to be
a part of the many dreams that they all shared and wanted to pursue
together. The family bonds and the love Louise and he nurtured were
physically and spiritually powerful. He had to respect and protect that
family unity.
FAMILY AND FRIENDS were drawn to Louise and Alberts Boyle
Heights house. The slightest pretense brought Dame Marie, Emily and
Gloria. Agatha and Allison found it easy to drop by to help Louise and
spend time with Baby Keller. Louises home was warm and comfort-
able, a place where every member of the family felt at home. At the cen-
ter of the family was Baby Keller. The Rivers and the Kellers became
closer and closer. They were one family, and at the center of the family
was little Keller, who became the heart and the source of love, energy
and power for every member of the family. Not only did family and
friends want to visit the baby, but all the workers and their families from
both companies came by to leave a gift and a prayer for little Keller at
the door.
Sol started to work more at the Boyle Heights house than at Oakley
and Agathas place in Hancock Park. Although the house was new, he
insisted it still needed detailed finishing work inside and out. He was
sure Louise and Albert would ask for changes. They did, and Sol made
the changes carefully and slowly. He enjoyed being near the baby and
making sure that Louise had what she needed. Sol brought friends Doa
River of Angels 203
Luciana and the River Mother, who were both extremely excited to see
the progress of the boy child. Doa Luciana and the River Mother took
it upon themselves to examine the child while Louise looked on, grate-
ful that both women cared about her and Baby Keller. Louises neigh-
bors, some of whom were hard-working immigrant families, were
friendly and ready to help her. They always asked about little Keller and
offered to break bread with them.
At any time during the day someone was always walking in front of
the house en route to the stores on First Street. The busy street also
served as a meeting place for neighbors. There was a more direct route
down to First, but neighbors preferred going by the Rivers home. Peo-
ple enjoyed looking at the house, taking in its panoramic views of Los
Angeles and beyond to the mountains and the sea. The neighbors
described the house and Albert, Louise and Baby Keller as the lovely
family in the pretty house with magnificent vistas. Even people from
the Westside often drove over the bridge to enjoy the views.
Knowing how special the view from the hill was, Oakley and Ernest
together purchased the lots adjacent to their childrens home to conserve
the value of the property. They put up a fence around most of their
shared property but left open the farthest lot from the Rivers home, then
had several of their workers build benches for the adults to enjoy the
hilltop. They also installed swing sets for the children. They declared
this privately owned space a public park and called it Kellers Green.
IT WAS THE concept of Kellers Green that Albert presented to his
Design of Public Spaces engineering class at the University of South-
ern California. After his presentation he answered several questions and
headed to the parking lot. Albert walked lightly and freely, thinking
about how well organized and well-articulated his presentation had
been. That was the last major project he had to do for the semester. All
that remained was an interview with the professor and the final exam.
He noticed two students walking behind him. One was in the engineer-
ing program. Albert waved.
From the direction of Alberts truck, three men approached his des-
tination. As they came closer to his truck he recognized Uncle Philip
leaning against the truck, waving awkwardly. Family was the first
identity that came to mind, but to Albert this was not the good side of
the family. He felt a little tense being literally surrounded by Uncle
Philip and two other men. He knew very well that Uncle Philip held an
204 Alejandro Morales
ugly opinion of him. Albert stopped and studied the men whom he had
seen before and tried to recall if it was at the Kellers house. He knew
that the Southern California Aryan Club met on campus, so Uncle
Philip and his friends probably had attended or were going to their
meeting. As Albert got closer, he noticed that Uncle Philip was drunk.
Albert took a deep breath, pulled his keys from his pocket and reached
for the door handle of the pickup truck.
Hey! Dont you even have the common courtesy to say hello to
your uncle?
Hello, Uncle Philip.
Five men, including the engineering students who moments ago
had trailed him, tightly closed in on Albert.
I think you have disgraced my family! You have ruined Louises
life! You are a mongrel and a moron.
Philips words started as a whisper, but as he proceeded, the sound
of his voice raised to frenzy.
You will not bring more half-breeds into the family!
A heavy thud deadened the sensation of pain in his left ear. The
swish of an object moving rapidly through the air came into his right
side as he fell to the gravel. Albert lay there trying to make out the
words that Uncle Philip screamed. The tip of a boot crashed into his
face. His hands covered his nose and mouth while another boot smashed
into his side. Albert turned away, hoping that the white gravel would
turn into snow to freeze away the pain. He wanted to sink into the earth,
wanted to make the pain disappear. Blood from his eyes, nose and
mouth covered his hands and neck. He tried to get up and felt a trickle
start to run down the middle of his back. A boot to the chest pushed him
down. Facing up, he listened to more words smashing his eardrums.
Let this be a warning! Leave town. Stay away from our family.
Dont force more of your mixed-blood babies on us.
Albert heard Philips footsteps grind into the gravel. He didnt
know who had hit him. There were five, but he could not tell who had
struck him, who had kicked him. The words came from Uncle Philip,
but the blows were delivered by Uncle Philips Southern California
Aryan Club brothers.
Somehow he found his keys, dragged himself into the truck and
painfully drove home. That night when he arrived, Louise and Sol were
waiting on the porch. They helped him into the kitchen. Sol gave him a
tablespoon of sugar. Louise washed his face. The bleeding had stopped
River of Angels 205
from his nose and mouth. His left eye was swollen shut. His ribs and
chest were badly bruised and painful to the touch.
Lets get to the doctor, Sol advised.
No, lets see how I feel tomorrow morning.
I will te-ell father tomorrow! Louise could barely speak. Look
what he-e did to you! He could have ki-ll-ed you! Hes crazy! I wi-ll
stop him!
Please, Louise, dont say anything. Itll make things . . . worse.
Albert drank water and sat back on the chair. Maybe he has
impressed his Aryan Club friends enough and will leave us alone now.
He took a deep breath and winced with pain.
You probably have broken ribs. Te tenemos que amarrar, lets
wrap your chest and back. Sol went to the laundry room.
For a long time they remained silent. The baby slept. They could
hear water running. Maybe there had been thunderstorms up in the
mountains with flash floods noisily filling the river with fast-rushing
water. Thinking of the waters moving fast to the ocean soothed Alberts
pain. Louise and Sol wrapped Alberts ribs with bandages they had cut
from bed linens.
Albert and Louise talked late into the night. She had wanted to tell
him the good news as soon as he returned, but she had to attend to what
Uncle Philip had done to him. Only when she was sure that he was com-
fortable enough to smile did she tell him that she was pregnant again.
The joy of knowing that they were to have their second child eased the
pain. With this good news Albert was convinced that in no time he
would heal. As Albert, Louise and Baby Keller slept, Sol sat on the
porch with eyes fixed on the upcoming day.
THE TRIP HAD been planned for several weeks. Surprisingly, it did
not take too much convincing for Ernests parents to come for their first
visit to the Los Angeles area to see their new great-grandchild. In addi-
tion to getting acquainted with Baby Keller, they considered the trip a
business expedition for future investments. Ernests father was particu-
larly interested in land near the old central plaza, where recently the city
had declared eminent domain on buildings and properties in old China-
town. The city intended to clear out about three thousand Chinese to
prepare land for the new Union Station. Many Chinese families resisted
as city officials compensated them with a pittance for their properties
and showed no mercy. Police posted orders of eviction and announced
206 Alejandro Morales
that those families and persons who continued to occupy the buildings
would be arrested and fined.
City officials justified the destruction of Chinese homes and prop-
erties by condemning them as health hazards unfit for human habitation.
While driving through town with Ernest and Allison, Ernests parents
witnessed forced removals of Chinese families who had lived there
since the late 1800s.
It is sad to see, but I understand why these extrications have to
happen if the city and its people are going to progress, Ernests father
said as he sat comfortably smoking a Cuban cigar in the new limousine
he had rented. They were on their way to Philips house. Ernests father
had not seen his brother Philip in many years, not since his brother had
come to California. From what Ernest reported, Philip had done well
financially. Although he had a rough time after the Crashwho had
not?he had survived.
Its because of you, Ernest, that Philip can live the way he does.
Wise move buying the house, son.
Ernest and Allison had discussed Uncle Philips obnoxious alco-
holic relapse, his exaggerated approval of Germany and its new leaders,
his overbearing, frenzied rants. Ernest reported that when Philip visited
his home he talked incessantly and most of the time incoherently about
the superior Aryan race and accused Ernest and Allison of failing to
raise their daughters in a proper Aryan way. Worst of all was his over-
bearing insistence that Louises marriage to Albert Rivers was illegal
and should be annulled immediately.
After the brothers reunion in Philips house, Philips diatribe con-
firmed everything that Ernest and Allison had said about him. Philip
introduced his new house guest, Hans Klimmer, as an associate from
Germany who was very close to the regime that was renewing German
culture. As Uncle Philip spoke about the Southern California Aryan
Club and its philosophy, Hans kept pouring whisky into both their glass-
es. Ernests parents asked for water. Intrigued by how California had
transformed Philip Keller, they sat back and just listened.
Philip could not restrain himself and blurted out, Hes unfit to raise
a child, a mongrel fathering a moron.
Enough of this ugly talk, I will not have you insult my daughter
and her husband, protested Allison. Ernest, how can you tolerate
this? She got up and walked to the kitchen.
River of Angels 207
Come on, Philip, the boys smart and has always been a hard
worker.
You dont understand, nephew. He has already and will continue
to contaminate our blood. Our bloodline should remain pure. Our
women should not be taken by members of inferior races. They should
give birth only to Ayran children. We, the Aryan race, are destined to
rule the world, and all the rest will follow or perish. This, I am sure, will
happen. You should start preparing. It is unavoidable.
Its happening in Germany now, sir, Hans added.
The evening progressed from bad to worse. Allison, refusing to
come back to the living room to hear Uncle Philips tirade, remained in
the kitchen helping the two Mexican women, wives of two company
employees whom she had hired to prepare and serve dinner.
With every glass of whisky Uncle Philip swallowed, his voice grew
stronger and louder, his expressions and gestures became more wild and
violent. Hans kept serving more drinks for the both of them. Ernests
parents seemed afraid to move. Finally, Ernest took the bottles of
whisky away and handed them to the Mexican women. The parents sat
stupefied. Uncle Philip attempted to speak but only slurred his words.
Soon only guttural sounds emitted from his mouth. Hans disappeared
into the master bedroom. Philip tried to follow but only crumpled at his
brothers feet. Ernests parents, Allison and the two Mexican women
stared down at Uncle Philip on the rug, misshapen like a gnarled branch
of an old diseased tree. For a long while he did not move.
I cant eat. Take us back to your house, son, Ernests mother
pleaded.
Ernest, lets take him to the bedroom, first. He can sleep it off. I
didnt understand how bad off my brother was. Come on, son, lets
move him.
Suddenly, on the rug, Uncle Philip grabbed his stomach and evacu-
ated liquid from his mouth and colon. The smell quickly consumed the
house.
Ernests mother ran out to the car. Allison went to the kitchen and
ordered the women to bring towels, washcloths, linens, whatever they
could find to clean up Uncle Philip. They dragged him to the bath,
removed his clothes, and all five working together placed him in the tub,
where he vomited again and again. Hans had passed out on the bed,
oblivious to what was happening around him.
208 Alejandro Morales
We cant leave him like this. Ernest wiped his uncles face with
an ice-cold towel.
Allison, you take Mom and Dad home. Im taking Uncle Philip to
the hospital.
Ill go with you, son.
No, Ill be there for a long time. You need your rest. Ive done this
before. I know exactly what to do. Itll be faster, better for Uncle Philip
if I take him. Manuela and Trini can help me get him ready. Here, hand
me another cold towel. Soon hell be able to get up and help.
The women kept the water running in the tub and placed ice-cold
towels on Uncle Philips head. Soon he gathered his strength and equi-
librium. He stood up. Ernest and the women showered him down as best
they could and helped him out of the tub. They sat him down naked on
a chair.
Im fine now! Leave me be! Uncle Philip raised his voice.
Throughout the ordeal Ernests father handed towels to the women,
who dried and dressed Uncle Philip as he kept coughing and gagging.
Do you see now how bad they treat me, brother?
For a while Ernests father watched and listened to his brothers
complaints.
Ill be fine. Give me a shot of that brandy on the table. Over there,
damn you, Mexicans! Learn to speak our language! Where are we
going? Not the hospital! Help me, brother! Help me!
Driving to General Hospital, Ernest tried to figure out how much
his uncle had drunk. He must have drunk before they had arrived. The
few times he left the living room he probably drank more. Ernest knew
the procedure, and Uncle Philip hated it. He would fight the hospital
staff, but they would treat him and keep him overnight. Once assigned
a room at the hospital, Ernest waited until Uncle Philip was in bed,
sedated. He would take him home the next day. He had done this sever-
al times before. After the last binge, Philip promised that he would
never drink again. His uncle was sick. When he relapsed it happened
dirty, ugly and hurtful, always hurtful to him and to those who cared
about him. Loving and caring for him were becoming more difficult.
This time he scared Ernests mother and father. He scared Allison, who
deep down despised him and everything he professed. Ernest was tired
of repeatedly saving his uncle financially and physically. But Uncle
Philip was family, so he would not let his fathers brother downplus,
he owed him his start in business.
River of Angels 209
The next day Ernest spent the day with his parents and the new
addition to the family, celebrated his parents visit and wished them a
wonderful trip home. Following up on their friends recommendations
that they see the beauty and natural wonders of the Southwest, they
decided to take the train part way across the country. Ernest, Allison,
Gloria and Emily took them to the train station.
Ernest had arranged for four of his workers to go for Hans and force
him to pick up Uncle Philip at the hospital and take him home. Ernest
selected four of the biggest, strongest and toughest of his construction
workers. When Hans opened the door he saw two Mexicans and two
blacks towering over him. Hans, the self-declared superior example of
the master race went peacefully. Uncle Philip recovered, as usual. He
was a man with at least nine lives. He promised his nephew, Ernest,
Hans and the doctor that he would not binge again.
You are not a young man. These bouts with binge drinking will
someday, sooner than later, shut down your organs, Mr. Keller. The
doctor signed the release papers and left the room.
On the way home they drove by several hobo and Okie camps near
the river on empty property used as dumps by the locals. Uncle Philip
fixed his gaze on the white people, victims of job loss. Philip was trans-
fixed by the Okiestheir white skin, the children with blue eyes and
blond hair floating just above the groundwandering from park to hobo
camp across the Southwest, looking for a job, a handout, a little help for
their kids. He wanted to help them immediately, but he was afraid to ask
the black driver to stop. These people should not have to live in camps.
They should have homes, education and good jobs. The immigrants, the
Mexicans, he mused, have taken these opportunities away from these
good white folks. Whatever it takes, he whispered. Whatever it
takes! he said out loud. He decided to help these real Americans com-
ing from the Dust Bowl to search for work in California.
The blacks and the Mexicans left Hans and Uncle Philip at their
front door.
WEEKS LATER UNCLE Philip drove to Ernests office to present his
Aryan Workers Plan. Two members of the Southern California Aryan
Club walked into the office with him. His companions were serious
businessmen, owners of large thriving enterprises, who believed in
Adolf Hitlers reforms and who supported the Nazi party openly. They
were there to help convince Ernest about this proposal.
210 Alejandro Morales
Deportation is the only way to solve the Mexican problem. Fire all
your Mexican labor, Mr. Keller, and have the police round them up and
deport them deep into Mexico, suggested one of Uncle Philips backers.
The only way to solve the greaser problem! No arguing that, con-
curred his protge.
Ernest, we have a group of white menAmericans, Dust Bowl
migrantswho need jobs. You must employ these men. They are true
Americans. The club will arrange the transportation to get rid of the
Mexicans. You must do this, Ernest. You have to come to your senses.
These Mexican mixed-bloods are ruining our country, society, the fam-
ily. You damn well know what I mean!
Uncle Philip, gentlemen, thank you for your concern. I certainly
respect your advice, but I will hire and fire whomever I please in this
company.
But, sir, you have Mexicans working here. The way we see it, one
is too many!
Please, Ernest, think about it. We can help you. Youll be doing
what is correct, the right thing. Youll be a hero in the eyes of the Amer-
ican people. Get rid of the Mexicans and give the Okies the jobs they
deserve.
Uncle Philip, gentlemen, thank you for the suggestions. Ill con-
sider what youve said. Now, please, the door is right behind you.
Uncle Philip waited in Ernests office while his friends made their
way to the car. He closed the door and faced his nephew directly.
Ernest, I talked to the girls. I hope its not true. Louise is having
another baby? Damn! I told you that half-breed would ruin her and the
family. The tragedy is that theyll have another boy. Their mongrel chil-
dren, the boys they breed, are carrying a mixed bloodline! That is dam-
aging our family even more. You have to stop that damn Albert. Annul
that ugly marriage. Send him away! Expel him from the family before
its too late. You must do something to relieve Louises suffering! The
poor child, not even her father helps her. I warn you, Ernest, this is not
going to end in a happy way!
Shes happy! Whatever you do, Uncle Philip, dont touch that boy!
Leave them alone. They have a home here, a growing beautiful family.
Albert and Louise are happy. Allison and I are happy for them. Please,
Uncle Philip, do not do anything youll regret.
Ill do whatever it takes, Ernest!
River of Angels 211
FOR UNCLE PHILIP, the worst part of this terrible situation was not his
nephews resistance to his wise words, or even that Louise had married
Albert to cover up their immoral and bad behavior, but that the young
couple was about to have a second child. Their mockery of a marriage
did not lessen the unpleasant feeling he lived with daily. Instead, the
emotion became more intense, beyond anger, even beyond hatred. He
had to stop them from mocking all his counseling of Ernest and Allison
and their children. It was his duty to prevent any further damage to the
family and certainly, not less importantly, the polluting of the family
bloodline. He had noticed the last time he saw his niece, how tired she
seemed, and he noticed again how her belly had begun to stretch.
One month later, in the presence of the Keller and Rivers families,
Louise and Albert proudly announced that in a few months another
child would bless the family. It was a joyous occasion for all. Louises
sisters ran to her side to embrace and kiss her. Dame Marie hugged her
parents, who sat together in a large red leather sofa located on one side
of the long stone fireplace in the Kellers living room. Sol listened from
the breezeway. A smile crossed his lips, and a tear formed in the corner
of his left eye. He quickly put a finger on this spontaneous product of
happiness.
Across the living room, Uncle Philips eyes welled from frustration
and the feeling of helplessness, and also the thought that the child might
be another man-child. This bothered him to the point of causing hives
with large red bumps on his chest and stomach. His emotions were
beyond words. For years he had urged Ernest and Allison to have more
children in hopes of producing a boy, a man to carry on the family
name, but this did not happen. For Allison and Ernest it was too late to
bear more children. He poured himself a goblet of red wine and
observed Louise, so white and beautiful next to Albert, a cross-bred
dirty-skinned mongrel. What made her fall in love with such an ugly
brown boy? She was not to blame. Her parents had failed to teach her
racial discipline. They failed miserably to teach Louise that miscegena-
tion was a horrible act. There were laws passed in many states to pre-
vent crossbreeding. If I have lost Louise, then I must save Emily and
Gloria, he thought, filling his glass with wine again.
He stared at Alberts arm around Louises waist. He was so near,
only a few arm lengths away, but Uncle Philip dared not strike a blow.
Now every minute, hour, day intensified his desire to do something to
stop Albert. With the possible birth of another male child born to his
212 Alejandro Morales
niece, Uncle Philips need heightened to continue the Keller line with a
white male child. Meanwhile, Albert continued working and going to
school, while Louise happily prepared their large house in Boyle
Heights for the birth of the couples second child.
Louises pregnancy progressed smoothly. The members of both
families constantly watched over her, and as she got bigger and bigger
they all had the same thought: twins. Albert prayed that his beautiful
wife would not have twins. He wanted to have children one at a time.
The year moved on, everyone working, studying and caring for the fam-
ily, living their lives in relative happiness. Oakley, Agatha and Dame
Marie at this time and place were content. They began to express their
love for one another by saying the words I love you repeatedly. The I
love you phase began after an argument over the color of a bedspread
that Agatha had bought for Dame Maries bed.
Since when do you care about color? Youre fortunate I tidy up
your room, Dame Marie! Agatha walked out of the room, throwing the
bedspread on the floor.
As Dame Marie heard her mother rush out of the house, she yelled
out, I love you, and ran to her mother. From that moment on, the
Rivers family got into this I love you phase of their lives. Everybody in
the house said, I love you as a greeting or as a good-bye. It became
like a blessing for each other.
The Keller family learned from the Rivers example. They took to the
expression of I love you and many times shortened it to . . . love you.
The Kellers liked to hug and embrace. The hugs were usually short, but
at times they became longer and turned into an embrace. The Rivers and
the Kellers became like one family, the adults seeing each other as broth-
ers and sisters, the children considering one another as brothers and sis-
ters. Through all these years, Agatha and Allison were truly bonded, sin-
cerely caring deeply for each other. And now, with the marriage of Albert
and Louise, they had become grandmothers together. For the women, the
children added fuel to the fire of cherishing each other.
Watching these open expressions of love only increased Uncle
Philips hatred of Albert. The desire for revenge that beset Uncle Philip
did not subside with the mockery of a marriage that he had forbidden.
He became so focused on striking out that everything he saw, heard,
smelled, touched and particularly all he tasted fed his disgust. Now the
possibility of Louise bearing twins for her mongrel husband made every
morsel he ate taste bitter, and slowly he lost his appetite. As Louise grew
River of Angels 213
with child she observed in her uncle a gradual but noticeable weight
loss. Uncle Philips health seemed to get worse. He suffered asthma
attacks. He experienced sudden severe pains in his bones. At times his
sight blurred. He asked people to speak louder, and all food tasted foul
to him!
Always the taste in his mouth!
He tried to eat. He would go to Allison, because even after all the
things he had said about her son-in-law, Albert, she would ask their
housekeeper to make breakfast or a sandwich for him. Uncle Philip
would take the fork and place egg in his mouth. It would lay there on
his tongue. Slowly the sensation of bitterness would spread. Hed try
again with bread and sweet strawberry preserves that in a short while
turned to a sourness that burned down in his throat. Hed push away the
food and drink water, the only thing he could swallow without gagging.
All the food given to me spoils even before I put it in my mouth, he
thought. Hed look at Albert and see the spoiling root of his horrible
condition. To survive, to live, to save himself, Uncle Philip concluded
that he had to take action, exercise a vengeance upon the disease caus-
ing his illness. Uncle Philip touched bottom when he threw a bottle of
vodka against the wall in his living room. Not even the alcohol he con-
sumed relieved his suffering. Finally he decided to attack Albert again.
He was convinced there was only one way to spare Louises suffering
and the nasty mixed-breeding shame that her family needed to avoid.
UP AT THE source of the river during the past few days there had been
thunder showers that brought about flash floods in the canyons empty-
ing into the river. A few heavy shower squalls roared down to the basin.
In the morning, one storm dropped about an inch and a half of rain over
the east side of Los Angeles, shutting down outside construction proj-
ects and creating a muddy mess in places where the earth was soft. In
the Boyle Heights Yard, Oakley Rivers sent the office employees home
early and left Albert to finish reports and to lock up the shop.
It was days before the date the doctor had set for the birth of the
baby. Louise had all the help she needed, perhaps more than she need-
ed. Sol was always helping her with whatever she wanted from the store
or wanted done around the house. His greatest pleasure was when
Louise asked him to watch Baby Keller. Sol loved and protected little
Keller. Without hesitation Sol was ready to give his life for the boy. In
the weeks prior to the birth, Louise was never alone. In the house there
214 Alejandro Morales
was always a family member watching over Louise and her little boy.
During the last week, Agatha and Allison rarely left that house. Agatha
and Allison took turns sleeping over, for if anything happened one of
them had to be there to help and send for the other abuela. On the night
that Albert stayed late at the Boyle Heights Yard, Agatha, Allison and
Sol waited for the breaking of water, for the first contractions, waited
for the baby to make its first move to enter the world. Louise was so big
that it was difficult for her to walk. For three days leading up to the
birth, she stayed in bed or sat on the large leather sofa chair in front of
the window overlooking the view beyond the river to Los Angeles.
Outside, just below the window, Sol had gathered a rabbit, a dog, a
hawk and several robins. He sat perfectly still, waiting with them, pray-
ing, talking to their spirits to encourage the infant to emerge whole and
healthy.
Louise held her large protruding belly, rubbed and patted it gently.
Come on now, baby! Push your way out of there fast! As the hours went
by, more animals gathered around Sol to help Louise and her newborn.
Albert packed his books, turned off the light and pushed the door
open. He made his way to his truck, avoiding the softest mud. He threw
his bag on the truck seat and walked over to the five faucets used by the
companys men to wash and tidy up before heading home. Three faucets
leaked badly, dripping water onto the small concrete platforms in front of
each water basin. He reached over to the first faucet and turned it shut. His
hand moved over to the second and turned, when a heavy object struck
his back and knocked him down to the cement slab. His body rolled to one
side, only to be punched and kicked from many directions. Sharp sudden
pain entered his ribs for an instant, shutting down his breathing. Alberts
hand scraped mud from his eye that had closed after the blow to his back.
A few more sharp kicks to his chest and shoulder brought him around on
his back where he could not scream, not say a word. Finally he heard him-
self breathing again, a chance to ask what was happening. Voices yelled
at him. Albert tried to respond, help me, he thought, maybe three, four
voices screamed, hands grabbed at his body, ripping his shirt off . . . back
to Mexico . . . pulling at his shoes, his pants down . . . half-breed . . . a
knife cut through his pants . . . the belt . . . warm liquid, blood covered his
arms . . . Albert felt for his nose . . . he sensed laughter . . . flat nose against
his mouth . . . you wont fuck . . . the voices dragged his body half way
off the cement slab . . . white girl again . . . voices grabbed his legs . . .
a voice cut off Alberts underwear . . . this knife on my hogs . . . laughter
River of Angels 215
. . . loud laughter . . . Albert twisted his shoulders violently . . . get up, get
up . . . several hands fondled his genitals . . . it all off . . . only his balls
. . . just like your pigs . . . the voices broke out in great laughter . . . a cel-
ebration . . . his balls . . . pain . . . terrible pain . . . he lost his breath . . .
his hands clutched his penis . . . blood came from below . . . he screamed
. . . the voices kicked him again and again . . . you aint gonna sin any-
more boy . . . no more mongrel moron children . . . he wont run . . . just
to make sure . . . several boards crushed a knee . . . opened his eyes . . .
only mud . . . crawled through the mud . . . pushed damp mud between
his legs . . . cool relief . . . under the leaky pipes . . . dripping water valves
. . . stuffed mud into his crotch . . . screamed . . . screamed again . . . mud-
smeared eyes widened . . . felt light . . . floating away . . . short breath
. . . breathing . . . pain faded . . . into the mud . . . .
HER WATER FINALLY broke. Louise bled a little and a strong con-
traction came. Albert, she called out. Albert! she screamed again
and slid off the leather sofa chair. She crawled toward the kitchen where
the grandmothers prepared for the birthing.
Albert! Louises cry seemed unnatural. Albert, she called again.
Hes on his way, darling.
Sol went for him.
The baby is coming! Agatha called to the ladies folding the swabs
and towels for the infant.
My God, the baby is crowning.
We wont make it to the hospital.
Calm down, Louise.
Push, love, push.
SOL DROVE TO the Boyle Heights Yard looking for Albert. Distract-
ed, he decided to park down at the rivers edge close to the River Moth-
ers house to quickly check on the treasures that had come with the high
river water. As he drove by the yard he noticed Alberts truck parked
next to Oakleys. He continued down to the River Mothers house. Her
helpers moved the newly rescued furniture, rugs, boards, a stove, lamps,
pieces of fence and several doors to a place in or on the house. Sol made
sure the Ancient One was fine. He stayed only for a short while and
drove up the rise. He noticed about five workers washing at the outside
faucets. A few were packing tools.
216 Alejandro Morales
Mucha agua, too muddy, a worker yelled at him and waved good-
bye.
Sol leaned out the truck window, smiled and gave them several big
waves with his left arm and wide-open hand. Those workers gave him a
good feeling. They had knocked off early and were heading home to
their families. He remembered his original mission, pushed his foot on
the gas pedal and started back to Louises home to see how he could
help. As he hurried, he recalled that Alberts truck was at the yard. Sol
made a U-turn and rushed over to the truck. He saw that the drivers
door was wide open and that Alberts bag rested on the seat. Thats odd,
he thought, and drove over towards where the workers cleaned up. He
got out of the truck, looked about and saw no one.
Albert! Albert!
No response came from anyone, from anywhere. Sol leaned into the
truck and honked and honked again for a long time.
Dnde ests, muchacho? He walked slowly toward the river,
searching.
Albert! Sol walked behind the workers faucets and sinks.
Ay, ay! He found his nephew naked and covered in mud.
Ay, ay, qu te hicieron!
By now Sols screams and the horn brought up several of the River
Mothers helpers to find out what Sol needed. As they approached, they
saw Sol struggling to lift Albert out of the mud.
Help me get him into the truck.
Sol ran to the office, broke the window, literally dove in, then ran
back with towels to clean and cover his nephew.
Hes gotta get to the hospital. Theyve beat the hell out of him.
Lets get him there, now! You know emergency de la White Memorial.
You drive. Ill be with him in back of the truck. Antonio, go and tell his
parents, a Don Oakley, and look for Don Ernesto. Son vecinos. Tell
them there was an accident, that Albert est en la White Memorial.
Then come back and report to me. No te preocupes de la Madre del Ro.
The River Mother will know you are helping me.
On the way to the hospital no tears fell from Sols eyes. He used all
his strength and knowledge he had learned from living under the river
with the lizard people to pack towels on and around Alberts wounds
and to apply pressure to stop the bleeding.
AGATHA AND ALLISON drove Louise to Angels of Mercy Hospital
after she had given birth to a full-term baby boy. The hospital, where the
River of Angels 217
doctor had planned for Louise to have her baby, was only twenty min-
utes away from the house. Nurses checked the baby, bathed and
wrapped him in a white receiving blanket. Louises doctor arrived,
examined mother and child, and pronounced both healthy and hungry.
Louises second son nursed at his mothers breast and fell asleep. The
grandmothers stood by waiting to take the infant and place him in his
bassinet. Louise, exhausted and disoriented, stared at the windows,
pointed to the door.
Albert? Wheres Albert?
Sol went to get him.
Sleep, Louise. Well wake you when he gets here.
The baby came so fast!
Yes, he did, and you did wonderfully. The doctor said that all is
well with you and the baby. Hell be here tomorrow morning to check
on you both again. Now sleep, my dear. You need rest. Sleep, my beau-
tiful, wonderful daughter. I love you. Now rest, rest.
AT THE MOMENT Oakley, Ernest and Emily approached the White
Memorial Hospital entrance, Agathas father and brother followed right
behind them. Shortly thereafter, two Los Angeles police officers walked
into the waiting room and asked for Sol, who sat surrounded by family
waiting for the doctor to explain the extent of Alberts injuries. Three
more men walked up to the family and asked for Mr. Rivers. Oakley and
Sol both responded.
Who brought Albert Rivers in?
I did, Sol answered.
Do you know what happened to him? Did he fall?
No, I found him, just like that. I brought him here.
While the police asked questions, and Oakley and Sol insisted that
they knew nothing about what had happened, another policeman
crashed into the room and interrupted the interrogation.
Did you see what they did to that boy? I cant say theres much left
of that boy. Lets get him to talk. Ill start the paper work.
Hold on, officer. Hes a victim. He didnt do anything wrong! You
are not going to question my grandson until hes recovered enough to
speak, Agathas father blurted out.
Mr. Banac proceeded to identify himself as a lawyer and invited the
officer to leave the waiting area and go out to the hallway. Twenty min-
218 Alejandro Morales
utes later the policeman returned to the family and called his fellow offi-
cers outside.
Were done here, fellas. He glanced over at Oakley. Hope your
son recovers right quickly, Mr. Rivers.
The police left and a silence fell upon the room. Finally, at one-thir-
ty in the morning a doctor came to speak to them.
Mr. Rivers, your son was severely beaten. He sustained a broken
nose, several broken ribs and his right knee is swollen to the point that
we cannot assess the damage. And he suffered a glancing blow to the
head. Whatever they hit him with struck him mostly in the back. He was
lucky, Mr. Rivers, very lucky. The doctor paused and asked, These
folks all relatives, Mr. Rivers?
Yes, you can speak. What?
Well, its difficult for me to say what I have to tell you next. Well
. . . but since these folks are your relatives . . . Mr. Rivers, the cowards
that did this to your son, Albert, also attempted to castrate him.
What?
Yes, I know. They tried, but they did a bad job of it. Theres no
other way to say this but to tell you that your son lost one of his testi-
cles. The other one is slightly damaged. They cut one testicle out and
slightly cut the other one. What remains will heal and should function
normally. Albert has been sutured and the broken bones will mend.
Hell have to undergo a lot of therapy, but slowly, maybe in a year or so,
hell walk again. Hell recover, Mr. Rivers. Hes groggy, but you can see
him now.
IT WAS NOT until the very next morning that everybody found out
where Louise and Albert had been and that Louise had given birth to a
healthy baby boy and that Albert had been brutally attacked. After the
turmoil and terrible violence, the Rivers and the Kellers settled back
into their homes. Only for a day no contact between them occurred.
Then Agatha and Allison got together, followed shortly by Dame Marie,
Emily and Gloria, who all pitched in to help Albert and Louise with the
children. The girls got their parents to talk openly about what had hap-
pened to Albert. The tragedy was on all of their minds, but no one want-
ed to suggest who had attacked Albert. Albert hardly mentioned the
incident, except when the police came to interview him.
Can you identify the men who attacked you?
They hit me in the back. I never saw their faces.
River of Angels 219
Did you hear anything, anything?
Yes, but the words were jumbled. I didnt understand what they
were saying.
The police came to talk to Albert several times, but the questions
and answers were always the same. Finally, the police stopped coming,
and Alberts case was never solved. They never asked if he had recog-
nized any of the voices. That night, between the blows and insults that
slammed into his body, he had recognized the voice that shouted
instructions about what to do and what not to do, but Albert never
offered up the mans name. He held it deep inside, knowing that each
family member had the name on the tip of his or her tongue but could
not pronounce it. It was too soon. They concentrated on the baby
instead. There had to be family peace for the babys sake. If the name
was said, there would be problems.
ALBERTS RECOVERY PROGRESSED faster than the doctors had
predicted. Oakley and Ernest made sure he had the best medical atten-
tion possible. They contracted a therapist who provided extra physical
therapy and nurses who monitored and dressed his wounds. Albert
responded eagerly, wanting to get back to work, to school, but always
his first priority was to return home to Louise, little Keller and his new
baby son, Allison Agat Rivers. While he exercised, his family appeared
constantly on his mind. Although the doctors and therapist encouraged
him to work harder, he realized that his knee would not heal fully, that
he would walk with a limp for the rest of his life. Often Louise had to
stop him from overdoing the exercises.
Youre fine, Albert. Thank God youre alive!
Dame Marie walked with her brother and assisted him with his
muscle-strengthening workouts. Months went by and never a mention
of Uncle Philip. He never visited any of his nephew Ernests family,
never stopped by to ask about Albert, young Keller or the new baby.
Nobody really wanted to see him. They were afraid of what might hap-
pen if and when he did come to visit. Rumors reached the family that
Uncle Philip and members of the Aryan Club of Southern California
were dedicating most of their time organizing fundraising events to sup-
port the new German government. Several University of Southern Cal-
ifornia engineering students visited Albert and shared what they had
heard and seen of Uncle Philip and the Aryan Club.
220 Alejandro Morales
Those people and their organization seem to be getting stronger as
the new Germany gets stronger. Theyre growing in number. Lots of
people support them and their ideas.
Lots hate their ideas! Your uncle is now giving speeches on behalf
of Germany and its effort to maintain the purity of the German master
race.
Your uncle is encouraging students of German descent to partici-
pate in the Strength for Joy Program and to bring their parents to their
meetings and outings. They go swimming, hiking and eat . . . a day-long
trip somewhere in Mulholland Canyon. I think theyre setting up some
kind of campus retreat place up there.
Just keep that man away from my family, Albert spoke softly.
Yeah, you wont have a problem with him. Hes just all over blond,
blue-eyed students, what he calls Aryans, trying to convince them to
attend the meetings.
You cant kick them off campus. The clubs community member-
ship is big, including really big university donors. Big alumni and even
professors are members, and they made it a student body club.
How did they do that?
Free speech, new ideas, academic freedom, that old argument. Ive
heard the police chief is even a member.
ON A SUNNY afternoon, one of those Los Angeles afternoons with a
clear view toward Santa Monica, with powdery white clouds floating in
and gradually turning red that guaranteed a magnificent sunset, Oakley
and Ernest arrived at Albert and Louises house with steaks and salmon
and got the grill outside going. They opened a bottle of Tempranillo
from La Rosa del Trinoro winery and sat on Albert and Louises bal-
cony sipping and waiting for Agatha and Allison to walk in with salads
and desserts. Dame Marie, Emily and Gloria walked in after their moth-
ers. Sol was already at the house working in the backyard.
Young Keller and little Allison Agat were the center of attention.
The three auntsDame Marie, Emily and Gloriaplayed games and
sang songs with the boys. They truly enjoyed being with them. They
changed their diapers, bathed and fed them. They tried on different
pants and tops until they were satisfied that they had found the perfect
outfits. During dinner Dame Marie insisted that young Keller sit on her
lap, and Emily held Allison Agat.
River of Angels 221
Why did you name him Allison? Its a girls name! And hes a
boy! Dame Marie smiled.
I think Allison is a strong name. It can be a boys name. Why not?
Grandpa Ernest answered.
After dinner Louise and the girls went for a walk with little Keller
and Allison Agat. They headed toward an empty lot with a view of Los
Angeles. Albert stayed, did his exercises and listened to his parents
conversation, at times adding his opinion to the discussion. Albert kept
exercising his legs without noticing his parents and the Kellers silence.
Albert walked out to the patio.
It was Philip, your Uncle Philip! Oakley whispered in a strange
tone of voice.
There is no proof of that. The police didnt press charges, Ernest
said.
We know how much he hates Albert, hates us! Now with Germany
pushing Europe around, he must feel really mighty. Ernest, you must do
something. You, deep in your heart, know that he wanted revenge. He
said many times that he was out to get him. You have to stop him before
he hurts Albert again or hurts somebody else. I think he and his cronies
are capable of worse.
What can I do?
Cut him off. Cut his company salary. Make him go back to work
so that he doesnt have so much time to hurt people.
I cant do that. Uncle Philip is an investor. He has the right to ben-
efit from his investment.
You mean your investment. Ernest, you saved his ass when he lost
everything in the Crash. You can do away with his source of income, put
a scare into him.
I will not do that, Oakley!
Youve done it before!
Hes my uncle! Ernest snapped.
Oakley warned: Tell Philip if he gets anywhere near my family,
my children, Ill give him what hes earned!
Dad, please calm down. Please dont say those things. No more
violence. We cant be like them, like the people that Uncle Philip sup-
ports.
Agatha and Allison rushed in from the kitchen with coffee, tea and
dessert. Allison went out and brought the girls and the boys back to the
house. The conversation turned back to Allisons name.
222 Alejandro Morales
Now with two Allisons in the family, we should have a lot more
say-so! Allison picked up her infant grandson, who smiled for all the
family to see. You see, he agrees!
Now here was something else that the Keller and Rivers families
could look forward to: the shared future of their grandchildren.
SOL WATCHED OVER Albert and Louise and guarded their offspring
as if they were the most precious children in the world. Sol invested most
of his free time in working at Albert and Louises house. There was so
much to do because Louise wanted changes to the house inside and out,
and work needed to be done in the gardens in the front and back. Sol
refused a room inside the house, but with Louises permission he built a
cottage in the back garden. He stored everything he needed there. The
cottage was simple and practical. Sols little house was similar to the cot-
tage he had used in the back garden of his brothers house in Hancock
Park and the cottage-tool shed on the Ros Adobe property. He took more
care to construct this cottage because he saw it not only as a place for
tools but also a home. He had never thought about where he lived as his
own personal home, but as homes that belonged to the people he loved.
Now that Albert and Louise had babies, he thought more about having
his own place. Exactly why, he did not know. He was close to his
nephews and to the River Mother, all of whom he visited often.
Sols cozy house consisted of a large kitchen, dining and living room
areas with a large fireplace featuring an impressive carved wood mantel
that he had salvaged from the river, and a bedroom with a small bath. To
capture the view to the ocean, Sol designed and installed on the west-fac-
ing wall a rectangular window and glass double doors that captured the
view of the city and beyond to the ocean. One day, standing before the
view he had framed with fine oak casings, he found himself alone.
LOUISE AND HER mother had taken young Keller and Allison Agat to
the doctor for checkups. Sol worked on several linen closets he was
installing in one of the first-floor halls. The housekeeper and cleaning
women had finished their tasks early and asked Sol for permission to
leave. The house was empty except for Sol, who put his tools down and
walked out to the porch facing downtown Los Angeles. He saw part of
Sun Constructions yard, and to the right his gaze followed the rivers
edge to a corner of the River Mothers gleaming roof. Sitting in the
early afternoon, taking in the view, Sol felt content, needed by Louise,
River of Angels 223
the children, his family. He wanted to remain forever in this blissful
moment. A scratching on the wooden floor caught his attention. Three
small lizards scurried across a corner of the porch. Sol leaned forward
for a closer look. The lizards stopped on their tiny claws, turned their
beady eyes on Sol. A large lizard came up onto the porch, stopped
behind the three small ones. The large one seemed to be scolding the
smaller ones, then took several steps forward. The three small lizards
dashed off the porch. The large lizard raised its head up and focused
directly on Sols eyes.
I come from the river.
Sol heard the voice of thoughts that appeared to come from the
lizard that suddenly started to get larger and larger until it stood upright.
Sounds, words, phrases whirled in the early afternoon on the porch
where Sol now embraced el lagarto, one of the beasts who had saved
him in the river. Sol understood the embrace, a reminder of what he had
become in the reptile underworld deep beneath the city and the waters
of the river. Sol opened his eyes to seestanding at the corner where
the lizard had reached out to embrace hima woman. She smiled,
walked up to him, then stood perfectly still. She was barefoot. Maybe
she had come up from the river. Her clothes were wet. Sol stared right
through her thin linen blouse. A tattered skirt clung to her legs. The
woman took a few steps forward, seeming to look beyond Sol into the
cottage. His eyes, his mind would not release the woman. He was rapt
as she opened her blouse. He thought he saw a light that fluttered behind
her. Sol put his left hand up to block the radiant glow.
Come on, you have a bed in there, dont you?
She took his right hand and placed it on her breast.
Feels nice? I know you want to. Dont worry, Ill help you.
Sol tried to take his hand away from her body. She coaxed and gen-
tly moved him into the living room, now filled with a golden fiery light.
As she deliberately lowered the garment wrapped around her hips and
legs, she bowed slowly. Sol felt a breeze created by large bright wings
on her back that flapped open and closed. Wings! He never saw her gar-
ment on the floor. He stared at the beautiful wings. The creature was
beautiful. He touched his lips, and a sweet white liquid moistened his
dry mouth and shocked his body and mind. Unable to move, he felt like
a hot stone encased in ice. Perfect divine power and brilliance ran into,
packed and jumbled his thoughts. He attempted to raise his hands to
protect his eyes from the glow of the beautiful wings. A large lizard
224 Alejandro Morales
somehow caught his eye, and he broke away from the gaze that bound
him to this wonderful magnanimous creature. Sol ran after the lizard
that scurried onto the porch. The reptile looked back at him. The radi-
ance of the woman shined off the lizards scales.
Put your clothes on. You must leave now! Sol spoke with great
effort. He felt the sweet liquid again in his mouth. This time the amount
filled his mouth and forced him to gulp several times.
Come on, Sol, you will enjoy it.
In a swirl, her garments adorned her nakedness. Although her wings
began to shine fiery again, Sol saw her eyes wide and clear. She again
gazed beyond Sol into the city. She stepped right off the porch and
moved a short distance away and looked back at Sol. Her eyes held him
for a long while.
Sol collapsed on the porch. He opened his eyes and sensed that
something powerful yet wonderful had picked him up, and something
even more wonderful had lifted and held him up. He turned toward the
river. The young powerful woman was gone. Forgive her, he thought.
An answer came: She was safe. Sol found himself on Albert and
Louises porch. For an instant a flow of energy and light went through
and around him. He looked out toward the river, hoping the light had
flown there, but only a multitude of wildflowers and their colors car-
peted parts of the rivers edge, and green trees and bushes stared back at
him. On the other side of the river Sol saw the railroad yards, railroad
barns, and buildings and mansions built by the wealthy Anglos who had
bought the land. Still wanting to see that fiery brilliant light from the
wings, he searched over the fast-growing City of Los Angeles, the green
hills, the basin, clear sky, all the way to the sea.
There were moments when Sol saw the world floating away, a float-
ing world with all the people he loved on a river moving away on an
unstoppable current. He had to hold the world together for those he
loved. The world disappeared, and he wanted it to be a happy place for
his precious families. And when Louise was pregnant yet again, he felt
obligated to protect her in a world where evil grew more powerful.
When Albert and Louise found out that they were going to have their
third child, joy completely filled the Rivers and Kellers houses, cottages,
offices and sheds. Every place they entered they brought joy with them.
According to the doctors who had treated Albert for his injuries, the
pregnancy was a miracle. With the severity of Alberts wounds it had
been considered impossible for him to father any more children. For
River of Angels 225
Uncle Philip, his nieces pregnancy was an insult, but for the rest of the
family it was a miracle, a sign that life was going to get better for the
Keller and Rivers families and for all the people they knew.
I do not want Oakley to do anything crazy to Uncle Philip, Sol
thought, while he walked toward the river. If anything happens to my
brother, what will become of Agatha, Dame Marie, Albert, Louise and
the children? Nobody can stop the hate that grows in Philip. Once he
finds out that Louise is pregnant again, he will go after Albert again. I
have to at least talk with him. He will understand that this hate must not
go on. I must convince him.
Sol gazed toward the sea, the horizon, the sunset, with clouds that
appeared like four angels rising to the heavens, angels with brilliant,
blazing wings. The image of the beautiful woman with resplendent
wings, who had appeared to him months earlier, again came to mind.
She had become his constant companion.
Angels with big bright wings, he whispered.
Ever since he had experienced the beautiful woman, he wanted to
stay near Albert and Louises house in constant vigilance. Sol had made
his decision to speak with Uncle Philip. He walked away, distancing
himself from the house he had entered and left so many times before.
This time, though, he departed resolved to see Philip Keller and stop his
campaign against Albert. Sol was convinced that once Uncle Philip
learned of Louises condition, he would not hesitate to act. He would
also find out that his attempted castration of Albert had failed, that his
pig-knife-waving associate had botched the ripping out of Alberts tes-
ticles, and that the Mexican mongrel could still bear children.
SOL FOUND OUT the date and the time that the Southern California
Aryan Club met. He was also aware of the clubs several meeting places
in the Los Angeles area. On Thursdays the club gathered at a conference
room in the University of Southern Californias Public Purpose Center.
Usually about fifty men and womenmostly mengathered there to
listen to speeches and reports from the homeland, Germany. On a sunny
day as Sol headed to the university, he wondered about the terrible
things that were happening worldwide, but particularly in Europe. The
newsflash was always about Germany, the intellectual hotbed, the
leader of the new ideology, the emerging new world order. Sol was
aware that Uncle Philip parked his car in the same parking lot where
Albert left his when attending engineering classes. He drove Alberts
226 Alejandro Morales
pickup truck onto the campus, directly to the large parking lot where he
expected Uncle Philip to show up at any time. The lot was only five
minutes away from the Public Purpose Center. He parked at the back of
the practically empty lot. Not much time went by before Philip drove
his car to a slot under one of the reddish-purplish crepe myrtle trees.
Uncle Philip got out of the car and walked into the shadows of the trees.
The meeting went on well into the night. Sol started to get a little impa-
tient after most of the attendees had left. Uncle Philip was the type of
man who would stay on after the meeting to talk directly to the speaker
and the club leaders. Sol waited, thinking about what he was about to do.
Was it the wrong or right thing? His heart raced. Putting his hand on his
chest, feeling its throbbing, Sol squinted and leaned forward over the
steering wheel, trying to see, yet nothing emerged from the shadows. He
really didnt want any trouble, just wanted to talk to Uncle Philip about
leaving Albert alone, about letting him raise his family peacefully and
without fear. Ill give him until ten to come out, he thought. If he doesnt,
Ill leave, he resolved. Ten, fifteen minutes went by, and still he gave
himself a little more time. Sol was about ready to turn the ignition key
to Alberts truck when out from between the crepe myrtles appeared
Philip Keller by himself, carrying a box to the trunk of his car. He head-
ed back toward the Public Purpose Center when he recognized Alberts
truck. Uncle Philip ran back to his car and opened the trunk. By then Sol
was on foot only a few feet away.
Sol, what do you want? Uncle Philip said, not feeling threatened
by the Mexican familys idiot. He closed the trunk and started to walk
away.
Philip, you must talk with me.
I dont want to waste my time with you!
You have to stop this violence and hatred toward Albert! Sol
stepped in front of him.
Uncle Philip pushed Sol away.
Lets talk about the children. We want to protect our children.
You mean those mongrels he created, and the ruin of my niece?
Sol grabbed Philips coat and brought him face to face. Four Aryan
brothers came running and immediately beat Sol to the ground. They
kicked him again and again and ground his head into the dirt. Uncle
Philip watched as they brutalized Sol. Then they turned to retrieve their
weapons from their cars. They watched for a long time, until Sol moved
River of Angels 227
his hands under his chest and slowly began to raise his head and his
shoulders off the ground.
One weapon went off, then another, and a third. An Aryan brother
hid a rifle behind the seat of Alberts truck. The other two dragged Sol
closer to the open door. The three men each fired one shot into Sols face
and head. A breeze swept the crepe myrtles red and brown leaves, cre-
ating a swishing sound across the dirt, gravel and concrete pathways,
streets and parking lot. The odor of fired guns drifted away. The wind
stopped and left a stained human bundle perfectly still and peaceful now.
One of Uncle Philips Aryan brothers went for the campus police.
ONE OFFICER FROM the University of Southern California Campus
Police and one from the Los Angeles Police wrote down Philip Kellers
statement about what had happened. For two hours into the early morn-
ing they listened to Uncle Philips explanation of how he was attacked
by a crazed man possessed by superhuman strength.
I fought him off, pushed him away, pleaded with him to stop, but
he kept coming. Thank God for my friends who came just in time! The
man kept attacking us. He wouldnt stop. We were afraid for our lives.
We beat him down, but he rose again. He lunged at us, trying for our
necks. His hands were like steel vices. We had no choice but to shoot,
and even then, after three shots hit him, he got up. I tell you the man was
possessed by the devil. We did what we had to do to protect ourselves
from being killed. Self-defense . . . it was self-defense, officers. Worst
of all, I wasnt hurt physically, but my heart sank when I was told by the
detective that it was my nieces husbands uncle, Sol Rivers. His crazed
face was so distorted that I couldnt recognize him.
Hey, Detective Price! Found this behind the seat of that lunatics
truck! The Los Angeles Police officer triumphantly raised a rifle above
his head.
Probably what he was heading for! a second officer yelled out.
AFTER SOLS HORRIBLE death, events seemed to take control, drag-
ging the Rivers and the Kellers right along their path. Things happened
so quickly that they seemed to fall into place as if they were preor-
dained.
There are people who do nothing wrong. They live their lives in a
productive way, yet suffering and tragedy come to them. Both the
Rivers and the Keller families agreed that they had to go on. They had
228 Alejandro Morales
grown so close that even this tragedy was not going to split them apart.
Their deep friendship, their love for each other would survive because
they gave themselves no other choice. They had become one family and
would not allow Sols murder to break them up. The families were con-
vinced that Sol would want them to be strong, to stand together against
the evil that had caused his death.
Sols funeral mass attracted hundreds of people who crowded into
Our Lady of Guadalupe Church in East LA. The services brought out so
many friends, acquaintances and people he had helped and who felt
compelled to bid farewell to Sol and to pay their respects to his family.
What people remembered about Sol during those days of memorial that
ended in Calvary Cemetery differed from what had been printed by the
local newspapers:
Mad Vagrant Killed
Armed Rabid Thief Killed
Shot by USC Philanthropist
Mexican Vagrant Stalked Prey, Shot on USC Campus
The press was merciless, inventing stories about an alien who had
no business being on the USC campus, who was believed to have been
stalking and lying in wait for coeds. Alcohol, drugs and weapons were
discovered hidden in the crazed mans truck, the newspaper reported.
The man was extremely dangerous. Mr. Keller had no choice but to
defend himself. He did a heroic service for the city, a Los Angeles
police detective declared.
The hundreds who attended the celebratory events knew better.
Their lives had been changed positively by Sol. They spoke out, gave
testimony about how Sol had saved their lives, saved them from finan-
cial disaster. People stepped up to speak about how Sol had provided
food for families who were in danger of starving and of losing their
homes. The testimonies came from rich and poor, and from different
racial and ethnic groups in the city. Some people described Sol Rivers
as a saintly man loved by the people he helped, mourned by all the com-
munities of Los Angeles. Several mourners asked the reporters to write
down these testimonies about a righteous man.
On the night of the wake, an hour and a half before it was sched-
uled to start and before the priest arrived, the River Mother arrived.
Hoping to avoid the crowds, but finding the church was practically full
already, she came to say good-bye to her River Son, Sol. She came with
a group of assistants who maintained her spectacular dwelling and who
River of Angels 229
took care of the ancient woman. When the River Mother entered, a com-
plete silence flooded the mourning space. The funeral director, who
throughout the years had had many dealings with her, immediately went
to escort her to where Sol waited. She asked that the casket be opened
completely. The funeral director hesitated for a second or two but with
great respect acquiesced to the River Mothers request. Gently, with
love and great care she allowed her eyes to touch and caress her son.
She held him tightly in her sight, forever in her heart. Her son, Sol,
dwelled there to help her, be with her. She softly chanted ancient holy
words, sang spiritual songs, prayed and sobbed for the boy the river had
given her many years ago. She opened her hands, slowly ran them over
Sols body and raised her energy to the heavens. She kissed her River
Son for the first time again and expected to run into him walking the
river very soon. The funeral director waited, making sure the River
Mother had completed her ministrations. She stepped back from Sols
casket, turned to the mourners. The funeral director took her arm and,
followed by her entourage, escorted her to her car and for a moment
held her hand.
Thank you for coming, River Mother. You have made the family
very happy, Im sure.
The funeral director let go of her hand and shut the door. So many
times she had insisted on going to him to bury the indigent, the unwant-
ed men and women whom she found or who went to her to die. The
funeral director never refused the River Mother. He knew he was
blessed by knowing and working with her.
A few weeks after Sols burial the final, official police report came
out. A short article hidden in the back of the Los Angeles Times report-
ed that the police investigation declared Mr. Philip Keller and three
other members of the Southern California Aryan Club innocent. The
article explained that Philip Keller acted in self-defense and that the
other three had been confronted by an out-of-control, drug-crazed, men-
tally retarded assailant, that they had believed their lives were in immi-
nent danger and were justified in employing lethal force. There was no
evidence to the contrary presented by the family on behalf of the alleged
perpetrator. The article concluded with a police officers admonishment
to the family: Dangerous retarded men like Sol Rivers must be institu-
tionalized for life, for their own sake and for the protection of the gen-
eral community.
230 Alejandro Morales
ALBERT, LOUISE AND the boys were frequently to be found at Oak-
ley and Agathas house. Losing Sol devastated Oakley in a way that
started to show physically and emotionally. Oakley lost weight, his face
grew longer and his eyes sunk into their sockets. His neck and arms
became thinner, his thighs and legs lost mass. He worked even harder,
but in his mind he never completed any project. He continued to work
long unbearable days, rising at five in the morning, leaving the office at
nine or ten, eating very little, drinking tea and getting into bed at one or
two in the early morning. He hardly rested, hardly slept. Well or sick he
pushed on. Work and more work drove him physically and mentally. His
employees, the office staff, the company engineers, the construction
foremen, the skilled workers, the laborers kept Sun Construction win-
ning bids. They mimicked their boss, worked double time without com-
plaint, but even their hard work and the companys success did not alter
what they saw in Oakleys body and manner. The boss was wasting
away ever so slowly and persistently. They spoke with him, wanting to
engage Oakley in a happy conversation about the various jobs, about
training, the family, the kids schools, the way they used to do with him,
engaging in sincere conversations they had so much enjoyed. Oakley
only said hello and listened. The light in his eyes glowed less and less.
Emotionally, Oakley could not communicate with them. The fire in his
heart was fading away.
Albert, Louise and their children visited Oakley often, trying to get
him to snap out of the reality that was overwhelming him, the reality
that was becoming heavier, a burden signaling his eventual destruction.
Agatha, Allison, Ernest, Gloria and Emily made plans for the weekends
for him and the family. They prepared his favorite dinners at home.
They organized outings to nearby parks and planned workdays in the
garden. Oakley participated without saying much, only uttering the
minimum of what was expected of him. On several weekends, to the
disappointment of everyone, he said that he had too much work to do
and left for the Boyle Heights Yard.
Agatha made appointments for Oakley to see several doctors: the
family doctor, a psychologist and even a local natural healer, but not one
guaranteed a resolution for the mighty physical and emotional weight
he carried. Louise got bigger with child and sadly witnessed her father-
in-law become thinner.
Here I am getting huge, while you are slimming down, Louise
joked as she rubbed her belly. Come on, youve got to eat. Your grand-
River of Angels 231
children love you. They need you to read with them, to teach them. Dad,
please. She stopped. She didnt want to sound desperate, as if she were
begging.
On one of those occasions, coming into his parents house, Albert
heard Louise encouraging Oakley to eat the dinner she had prepared. On
the kitchen table Albert placed a basket of vegetables he had harvested
from the backyard garden. He raised his eyes and saw, through the large
bay window in the living room, Uncle Philip slowly driving by on his
way to Ernest and Allisons. Albert bolted out the front door, but there
was no sign of Uncle Philip.
Let it go, Albert, let it go. Isnt this enough? Louise said to her
husband as he sat at the table with his father.
Albert shook his head but did not say a word.
One week later, returning from a doctors appointment, Albert spot-
ted Uncle Philip driving away from their Boyle Heights house. He did
not ask Louise if Uncle Philip had visited, and she never said a word.
Albert saw him again, this time almost stopping in front of the house.
Albert walked out from the garage, down the driveway to the street.
Uncle Philip leaned forward, squinted and immediately drove off.
Albert ran out to the middle of the street and shouted, Who in the hell
did you expect to find?
This stalking happened too often. The monster wants to come back,
Albert thought. He was not sure if he should ask if anybody else had
seen Uncle Philip, or if he had already been in the Kellers or even in
his own house. Maybe the family was afraid to tell him. After Sols mur-
der, nobody mentioned Uncle Philip. Nobody wanted to hear his racist
theories or see his ugly face. It was the same after Uncle Philip almost
killed me, Albert thought. He has a way of sneaking back into his
nephews tolerance. How dare that murderer think Id allow him any-
where near my family!
THEY HAD HEARD that the River Mothers health was failing. They
had heard this so many times before, but always she had outlived the
rumors. Nonetheless, the way things had been going, Albert and Louise
decided to take the children to visit the Ancient One. The afternoon was
clear, the sun warm, and the river was carpeted with patches of green
wild grasses and wild flowers. Usually they would walk, but with
Louises condition they didnt want to take any chances. The ride
offered different perspectives of the River Mothers palace. The house
232 Alejandro Morales
had grown more complex, and the children pointed out objects they had
never seen before. Rumors circulated that the city wanted to do away
with uncertified dwellings. They had recently wanted to condemn and
bulldoze the Watts Towers, but the community had defended the towers
as works of community art and had won the case. The River Mothers
dwelling stood all alone. She had no community or neighbors to defend
her. Despite these threats to her marvelous mansion and the news of the
River Mothers failing health, both had survived.
Several of the River Mothers assistants were selling objects found
in the river and also furniture, clothes and building materials brought
down to the River Mothers place from repossessed homes, evictions
and closed or abandoned businesses. She had expanded her merchan-
dise and had done very well with the help of her faithful assistants.
Albert made his way down to the rivers edge.
The River Mother came out, carrying an old porcelain clock. She
did not look ill, certainly not in failing health. Her face looked drained,
but unlike most of the family, she carried Sols spirit, not his memory,
everywhere she went. For the River Mother, spirit was energy. Sols
energy was still active on earth and was strong enough to impact other
people. The River Mother placed the old porcelain clock between them.
Albert described seeing Uncle Philip several times near his house stalk-
ing the family. The River Mother listened with one hand on the clock.
Albert placed his hands on the sides of the clock and attempted to pick
it up, but it was too heavy. The River Mother didnt let go of what Albert
considered an ugly, obsolete fixture. A worker came with a velvet-lined
wooden box in which the River Mother inserted the clock.
Qu reloj tan feo! Ugly clock but very expensive. Mira, Alberto,
people are not always who they seem to be. Look at your Uncle Felipe.
He is a rich, powerful but dangerous man, the devil, not like this clock,
old and of great worth. He has no valuehis opinion is twisted. No le
hagas caso. Dont pay attention to him. Your good works will make
your future. Alberto, la bendicin de esta viejita, en el nombre del
Padre, el Hijo y el Espritu Santo. Follow good paths and always do
good works for all people. Amen. The River Mother caressed his cheek
with her fingers and entered the house.
Albert heard his children playing by the river. He walked down to
them, all the while thinking about the River Mothers words. Louise
gathered the kids and met Albert half way up the trail to the truck. They
stopped to see three black limousines parked in front of the River Moth-
River of Angels 233
ers dwelling: city officials, eminent domain came to mind. Albert
watched as several of the assistants brought out the wooden box with
the ugly clock. They placed it on the table and opened the box. The men
and women looked down and smiled. They reached for the clock, but
the River Mother stopped them. The visitors were excited and attempt-
ed to get on the side of the table where the River Mother stood, but her
workers prevented them from moving closer. More workers emerged
from inside the house, from the river, and walked down from the Boyle
Heights Yard. Soon, the River Mothers helpers surrounded the dozen
visitors and the limousines. The River Mother shook a finger at one of
the visiting women. She called one of her young assistants to talk with
the visitors about the ugly clock. Albert, Louise and the boys moved
close enough to hear the conversation. They were astonished by the
offers being made by the visitors for the ugly clock. As Albert listened,
he remembered the Chinese vase that Sol had found years earlier in the
river and wondered if Sol would have considered the clock ugly also.
HIGH ABOVE THE ridges of Rustic Canyon in the Santa Monica
Mountains, Uncle Philip stared down at the concrete and steel under-
ground tunnels and stairways winding their way to the canyon bottom.
Uncle Philip took a deep breath, then gulped a shot of whisky from his
gold flask and braced himself for the descent. He squinted for a glimpse
of the buildings and houses of the community he had helped to build.
He did not invest cash because Keller Construction contributed, unbe-
knownst to his nephew, all the building materials required, totaling
thousands of dollars.
Philip descended carefully, step by step. Soon came to the first
checkpoint where armed guards in silver shirts protected the colony
whose ethos was to live independently, separate from the inferior races
in the society at large. Their greatest fear was that their children be
infected in mind and body by the disease-carrying sub humans who,
unfortunately, populated most of the territories above the canyon.
The Aryan master race community grew its own food, provided
electricity and stored water. The community workshop had built gener-
ators, a power station, water distribution systems and a deep under-
ground bunker to escape invasions. Uncle Philip moved farther down
the twelve stairways that had from six hundred to a thousand steps each.
He waved at several more silver-shirted guards who were on patrol near
the ten houses clustered in the middle of the fifty-acre parcel in Rustic
234 Alejandro Morales
Canyon, now called Murphy Ranchnamed for Jessie M. Murphy, the
European immigrant who had purchased the land. Murphy had con-
structed two small bungalows for three German intellectuals he had
invited to set up a training center for the Southern California Aryan
Club and for the popular and growing Friends of the New Germany
Association. The headmaster and lead trainer was Dr. Dieter Henrich
Schmidt, a metaphysical philosopher of Aryan thought and political ide-
ology. Schmidt was a powerful orator and inspired many wealthy Nazi
sympathizers not only to join the colony, but to contribute large sums to
its maintenance and expansion. At the time Uncle Philip made his way
down the stairways, the total Aryan organization consisted of nearly
twenty-one thousand members. It had centers and colonies throughout
the United States, with six Southern California chaptersin Baldwin
Park, Huntington Beach, Pasadena, Inglewood, Long Beach, and the
main headquarters at Murphy Ranch.
From their chapter houses the members launched attacks against all
dark-skinned peopleMexicans, blacks, Indians, Asiansand their
highest priority target: the Jews and their supposed takeover of Holly-
wood. The task of eliminating Jews came from the Nazi ideologists in
Germany. Philip Keller never felt prouder than he did at that moment,
heading down the steps to the party celebrating the arrival of Juergen
and Meld Kunzenheim, a wealthy industrialist and his wife. On that
night, an invited U.S. government eugenicist from Washington D.C.
was to lecture on the moral and genetic dangers of miscegenation.
Uncle Philip knew that the theories of the lecturer would reinforce the
release of Louise from her marriage to Albert Rivers. As he drew near-
er, he could see the tops of the buildings and the terraced hillsides plant-
ed with thousands of fruit, olive and nut trees. He approached his
favorite building, a state-of-the-art greenhouse. As he stopped for a
moment to rest, Philip observed guests who had been brought in by
truck down the fire road on the opposite side from where he stood. The
road was safer, but it took much longer to get in and out of the colony.
Uncle Philip was prepared to make an announcement that Dr. Schmidt
had asked him to make that night. Uncle Philip had spoken to groups
before, but still he felt nervous.
A few hours later, after dinner, Philip Keller stood before three hun-
dred supporters of the new Germany. Ladies and gentlemen, it gives
me great pleasure to announce that Jessie M. Murphy, Dr. Schmidt and
Mr. and Mrs. Kunzenheim have signed a contract with Keller Construc-
River of Angels 235
tion Company to expand our facilities. We have hired the Welton Beck-
et Architectural Firm to design five magnificent buildings to be con-
structed right here on our grounds. Initial funding from Kunzenheim
Industries will be partly matched by materials contributed by Keller
Construction Company and donations from people like you, who
believe that our master race will rule the world again.
Applause broke out. People stood up and toasted a magnificent
future for the master race. Uncle Philip basked in the glow of approval
and celebrity.
ALBERT HAD PRACTICALLY taken over the companys work sites,
yards, materials and administration, at least until his father got back on
his feet physically and emotionally. Agatha and her fathers law firm
handled all the financial dealings. In spite of the tragedy and its conse-
quences, the company still was on solid financial ground. The company
had maintained an enviable position during those difficult economic
times. But all was not well. While leaving the Sun Construction Boyle
Heights office to head home, Albert saw Uncle Philip drive by, slowly
heading toward the First Street bridge.
The depression that had overtaken his father had been relentless,
and it impacted every member of the family. Now, with Albert taking
over the business, Oakley seemed to be responding to the medication
and therapy the doctors had prescribed. As Oakley got better, Agatha
and Dame Marie rallied, and this, in turn, boosted Louises morale. Alli-
son, Gloria and Emilys visits to help Louise became joyful and free of
fear again.
Albert ran out to see Uncle Philip stop his car beyond the driveway,
down the street to wait and watch in the drivers side mirror for Alberts
reflection to appear. Albert considered this a deliberate provocation. He
wanted Uncle Philip to stay as far away as possible and to leave Louise,
the boys and him alone, but Uncle Philip was growing bolder in his
approaches to the family. Albert raised his fist at Uncle Philip. He was
sure that the old man was taunting and mocking him. As the Keller Con-
struction Company car turned toward the bridge, Albert ran to his pick-
up and followed the man who had had him beaten and castrated and had
murdered Sol. In turn, Sols death was the cause of his fathers illness.
Alberts truck easily caught up to Uncle Philips as it crossed the bridge
that their families had built. Albert sped up to let Uncle Philip know he
was just behind him. Startled, Philip hit his brakes, quickly bringing his
236 Alejandro Morales
car almost to a complete stop. Alberts reaction was not fast enough,
resulting in a solid jolt to Uncle Philips rear bumper. Philip looked in
his rearview mirror and realized who it was, then floored the gas pedal
to get away. Albert sped up again. Uncle Philip waved at Albert to pass
him. Albert bumped him again, pulled to the left and brought his truck
parallel with Uncle Philips car. Both men turned for an instant to catch
each others eyes and hold their gaze. Uncle Philip and Albert pressed
on the gas and moved into each others space, shifting back and forth on
the concrete roadway. Philips horn blasted once or twice, but no more.
With tense hands maneuvering for a swipe into the other vehicle, both
men felt an adrenalin rush, and anger swiftly ran throughout their bod-
ies. Rage widened their eyes and narrowed the road. They only saw one
other car. Time sped up. Space was covered in slow motion, shrinking
and widening. Both vehicles hugged the right side of the road. Alberts
passenger door and Uncle Philips drivers side door traveled as if they
were stuck together. They sped up even more, and the space between
them widened. Albert whipped his steering wheel to the right, ramming
Uncle Philip up the pedestrian walkway and onto the bridges cement
railing. Alberts truck skidded to an abrupt stop ahead of Uncle Philips
car. Both overcome by blind rage, the men fell out of their vehicles at
the same time. For a split second, nature sought a way out when the two
crazed men focused on two distinct objects far away across the river.
They struggled to stand up, whirled around. For an instant, Albert
looked at Uncle Philip like Uncle Philip looked at Albert. Then Uncle
Philip stumbled, almost fell toward Albert.
What are you doing, you stupid Mexican moron?
Stop following us! Stop going to my house! I dont want you near
Louise and the children!
Im not going to your house, you castrated greaser! Damn you!
Youve done enough damage already!
Uncle Philip went to his car and reached under the seat. Albert
rushed and threw his arms around his back, turned Uncle Philip face to
face, eye to eye again. Time moved in micro seconds. Their bodies so
close, they seemed to breathe together as one being. Albert leaned into
Uncle Philips ear and whispered something. Uncle Philip pushed
against Alberts chest and an explosion shook both their bodies. Albert
held on to Uncle Philips arm as a second explosion sounded, and then
they both recognized a third gunshot, the recoil almost making Philip
drop the gun. Anger, tears, rage . . .
River of Angels 237
You didnt listen, too primitive, he muttered. The gun still in his
hand, Philip watched as Albert released his arm and collapsedlike a
prayer answered.
Uncle Philip fired two more times, pushed Alberts body back-
wards, splitting the back of his head on the surface of the pedestrian
walkway. Uncle Philip dragged Albert to the side of the bridge and sat
him up against the bridges walkway wall. Several cars drove by cau-
tiously, surveyed the scene and quickly drove away. Uncle Philip waved
his hands above his head. Several cars slowed down.
Call the police! Get the police!
HOW TERRIBLE TO think that my son is in a box, his hands crossed
over his heart, eyes closed to the earth but seeing eternally. Hes buried
deep in the ground because I didnt protect him enough, because I didnt
go after the men who brutalized and maimed him. My Albert never held
it against me. I know he loved me unconditionally, but I was not there
for him when he needed me the most. He had given me signs. That
racist had come back to bother Louise and the children. I didnt do any-
thing! I sat feeling sorry for myself. How could things have gone so
wrong? Why did I behave so wrongly to a threat toward my family? Sol
was right to confront the murderer! Now its me who is left to avenge
Sol and Alberts assassinations. Philip will suffer. I will make him suf-
fer. Oakley swallowed the pills that Agatha handed him and gently
pushed the glass of water away.
Earlier that day the doctor had visited Oakley. Agatha, he must eat,
drink. I have tried everything that I know. Now its up to him. He has to
want to live. Who knows how hell react if hes hospitalized. I think hes
better at home. He has a better chance of a breakthrough here in his nor-
mal surroundings. Yes, he has the house, the garden, family, friends and
the workers around him, so many people to take care of him so well,
who want him to live. Physically he is fine. He has so much to live for.
SEVEN MONTHS EARLIER on a clear cool day, Albert Rivers was
laid to rest next to his Uncle Sol in East Los Angeles Calvary Ceme-
tery. Ever since they had lowered Albert into the ground, images,
visions and sounds related to Alberts past, the things he did, the people
he loved appeared to Oakley. Oakleys mind and now his life had been
overtaken by memories of his son. He could not rest or waste any ener-
gy or time worrying about anything else. He saw that his task for the rest
238 Alejandro Morales
of his life was to keep his son alive by recalling his life from conception
to that horrible day. Louise came to Oakley and sat at his side, talking
to him about Keller Oakley and Allison Agat.
Your grandchildren want you to get better. Albert wants you to be
a grandfather to his sons. Albert needs you to play, to read, to take them
to the park, to play baseball with them. Remember, thats what you did
with Albert. Now he needs you to do the same with his boys.
Every other day Louise brought the boys and stayed for hours
cooking for him, talking to him and walking him around the house,
recalling moments they had in this room, on the sofa, by the fireplace,
in the garden, in the small forest, in the garage, in the kitchen where
they now sat. Louise took his hand and placed it on her tummy.
Feel the baby. The baby is coming soon. Feel it moving. Its
Alberts baby, and he wants you and Agatha to help me with the new
baby. Albert wants his father to get stronger. Please, Oakley, I need you.
AT OAKLEY AND Agathas, the workers were always helping in the
kitchen, the house, the garden, going for groceries, materials for repairs,
seeds, plants and fertilizer for the vegetable garden, flowers for inside
and outside of the house. The workers normally received their chores
for the Hancock Park house from Agatha, but increasingly they went to
Louise, who often visited her mother-in-law either at home or at Sun
Constructions Boyle Heights Yard to help her in any way she could.
Agatha had Louise do simple chores in the office. Louise filed purchase
orders and contracts. Soon Agatha had her drawing up contract docu-
ments. She taught her daughter-in-law how to work with small accounts
and, eventually, large projects. Louise took on these tasks, eagerly
learning much of what Albert had done in the early days of the business.
Later, although he knew how to do the office work, he had preferred
bidding jobs and working at project sites.
To do the cost projections on a job, Louise learned the materials
bidding process. She enjoyed sitting with Agatha to discuss company
business investments, construction contracts and payroll decisions.
Agatha explained how the Banac law firm reviewed agreements and
contracts entered into by Sun Construction. Louise facilitated the work-
ing relationship between Sun Construction and the Banacs bank. She
learned quickly, and her visits to help out a little quickly went from part-
time to an almost full-time schedule. She did this always thinking about
her Keller Oakley, Allison Agat and the child she carried. By working
River of Angels 239
she kept Albert always present, because in doing what he had done to
support his family, he was with her; in doing the mental and physical
work, she talked with him mentally and felt him physically; in learning
and doing Alberts work, he was around and in her. One sunny afternoon
Agatha approached Louise to share a concern.
Louise, you know we are lucky to have help with our children. I
think it is wonderful that you are learning the company business. Im
sure Keller Oakley and Allison Agat miss you. I want you to stay
healthy. . . . The babys almost here. Please let me help you. I love you.
OAKLEY GOT UP at five in the morning and shuffled his way through
every room in the house until finally he found the kitchen. He insisted
on coffee and scolded the housekeeper, Agrepina, for not having it
ready. That day he was moving better than he had for months. Somehow
invigorated, he stepped outside to study the summer sky and told the
gardeners to fertilize the front and back lawns and all the flower beds.
Agatha caught up with him and walked him back to the kitchen, where
he drank a cup of coffee and ate two pieces of toast. Agatha smiled at
Agrepina, who was surprised as much as she at Oakleys activity.
Maybe he had broken the depression that had derailed him physically
and psychologically for so long.
By twelve Agatha had called all the family, including Allison and
Ernest and, of course, Louise, with the good news that Oakley was back
to his normal self. Was it a miracle? It was a miracle! Regardless of
what had happened, Agatha, after living for so long with Oakley, had
learned from him about other powers, about believing in miracles,
believing that changes could be caused by inexplicable energies that
spontaneously manifested their presence. She expected family to come
by to visit around three in the afternoon.
After enjoying a lunch of soup and salad, Oakley sat in his favorite
leather chair, facing the garden. He got comfortable and asked for a cup
of tea. His wife went to the kitchen, happy that he was back. She left
him sitting comfortably and at peace. Agatha delighted that her husband
was engaged in life again. That morning he had moved throughout the
house as if he were rediscovering every room. He walked out to the gar-
den the way he used to. Agrepina and the men working outside saw him
and began to carry out their duties with more enthusiasm. The news of
his recovery circulated rapidly.
240 Alejandro Morales
Agatha poured hot water into two cups of mint tea, added honey
and a slice of lemon. Agrepina sliced a loaf of bread, placed it on a tray
and took it to the parlor, where Oakley waited for Agatha to join him.
Agrepina placed the tray on a side table.
She waited for him to respond with her name. If he did, it would
be a sign that he had recovered.
Gracias, Agrepina, gracias.
As Agrepina walked by the French doors to the garden, a lizard
moved into the parlor. Ay! screamed the housekeeper, startled.
Its all right. Let it be, Agrepina.
A shaft of sunlight shimmered directly into Oakleys wide open
eyes. A shade of blue slowly opaqued his fingertips and shaded his face.
Agrepina prepared the days meals, the gardeners diligently applied
their skills to the days chores while, sitting comfortably in his chair,
Oakley now moved to a place where nothing from this world, this life,
could hurt him.
OAKLEYS SUDDEN DEATH had no impact on the Southern Cali-
fornia Aryan Club, where Philips two lawyers and twenty members cel-
ebrated the expected good news from the Los Angeles County District
Attorneys Office: Philip Keller had acted in self-defense. Albert Rivers
intentionally and aggressively had used his vehicle to cause bodily harm
to Philip Keller. The district attorney had concluded that Philip Keller
was in imminent danger for his life and had no choice but to use lethal
force. The police officers, who had written the initial reports and who
were sympathetic to the ideology of the Southern California Aryan
Club, suggested to Philip Keller that, this being his second reprieve, he
should consider going away on vacation.
Dont you see youre becoming a target for folks who hate the new
Germany? Go stay at the Murphy Ranch Colony for a while. If this hap-
pens again, youll forfeit your gun permit.
At the colony that evening Uncle Philips victory was celebrated as
was the new Germanys advancement toward total European domina-
tion. The Aryan master race was not to be stopped: first Europe and then
the world.
ON THE BANKS of the Los Angeles River by the River Mothers house
there appeared three golden altars. It began when three little bouquets of
cempaschil, marigolds, were brought to the river by three children. One
River of Angels 241
had known Sol, one had met Albert and the third child had visited the
Boyle Heights Yard several times and seen Oakley. All three childrens
parents knew either Sol or Albert or Oakley, but did not know each other.
After the news of Oakleys death had gotten around Los Angeles neigh-
borhoods, these parents brought their families to the river to leave cem-
paschil, a flower associated in Mexican culture with remembering the
departed. They placed their offering at three different locations near the
River Mothers habitat. Sun Construction employees saw the little gold-
en ofrendas and brought more flowers and candles in honor of the three
men. The Sun Construction carpenters built altars to accommodate the
many vases filled with radiant arrangements and colorful candles that
people from all over Los Angeles brought to the three golden altars at the
rivers edge. From throughout Southern California, Mexican families
came to offer their respects with gratitude and love to Sol, Albert and
Oakley. The Rivers family story circulated rapidly to near and distant
places. People from all walks of life and different racial and ethnic back-
grounds came to at least see the great golden altars that rose day by day.
During a magnificent Southern California sunset, golden sheets of light
made the altars shine resplendently for a far distance. The golden light
blended into radiated shades of cempaschil colors that climbed into the
sky. An unmistakable radiance rose upward and upward, attracting more
and more people to the river. The light was so intense that the crowds
could only get so close to its source. Hundreds, then thousands of curi-
ous people came to witness the light from the three golden altars. As
hundreds more neared, the warm wind mingled with a cold breeze, caus-
ing little dust devils that grew, at first gently, then stronger and stronger.
People moved away from the light and sought shelter from the rising
storm. As the storm escalated, the light grew brighter and warmer. Then
a sudden rainstorm sent sheets of water down for a short while. The wind
then exploded the light into countless rays of golden firelight witnessed
from far away. The storm lasted thirty minutes, enough to sweep away
any evidence of the great golden altars that had been constructed for Sol,
Albert and Oakley. The next morning the gloriously rising sunlight
embraced and warmed Los Angeles. Along the riverbanks there was
nothing left of the altars, only indelible memories embedded forever in
the minds of thousands of witnesses.
WHAT NAME SHOULD I put on the birth certificate?
Sol Louise Rivers.
242 Alejandro Morales
Fine strong name, Louise. Lets see now, the date is November 9,
1938. They will send you a copy. Birthing is easy for you, Louise! the
doctor said with a smile.
Of course, Agatha and Allison had assisted in delivering her third
child.
Louise had not expected anyone for dinner that evening, but to her
surprise and joy her father arrived with a bouquet of roses. Soon after
him, Agatha and Allison arrived with platters of food. Emily, Gloria and
Dame Marie came in right after them. They had in one way or another
either heard or read about the district attorneys decision exonerating
Philip Keller days ago, but no one brought it up. They sensed the empti-
ness of several chairs in the kitchen, living room, dining room, in many
of the spaces of the house that Sol, Albert and Oakley had occupied.
Still, no one brought up Uncle Philip. Keller Oakey and Allison Agat
played in the parlor and ran into and out of the living room. In the
kitchen Allison and Agatha organized dinner. Soon they both
approached Louise to ask to hold their new granddaughter.
Let me hold her. Agatha took the baby and sat on the couch.
Shes so gorgeous, Louise! Sol Louise is beautiful. Allison
reached for the baby, but Agatha didnt give her up.
Im glad you gave her your name, Louise, Dame Marie called out
in the parlor where she played with the boys.
Dinner is almost ready, the housekeeper called out from the
kitchen.
Not a second passed before a crash startled everyone. Dishes
smashing on the kitchen floor! Everybody exchanged glimpses in a
silence that was soon broken.
Well, thank God, its not Germany! Dame Marie called from the
parlor.
What happened there some nights ago is terrible. Innocent people
taken out of their homes and beaten, killed, Allison added.
They destroyed Jewish businesses and burned synagogues every-
where in Germany. The Germans are a disgrace. They should be
ashamed for letting that happen.
Hey, hey, come on now! Emily, lets talk about something else,
Ernest insisted, then went to the kitchen to see if he could help carry
anything to the table.
The housekeeper was in tears. It took her a while to stop shaking
and calm down. Finally, the family gathered around the dining table.
River of Angels 243
Ernest offered a toast: To my wonderful granddaughter, Sol Louise
Rivers . . . may she inherit a world of peace.
During these difficult times every construction contract, no matter
how big or small, was reviewed, accepted or rejected by Agatha and
Louise Rivers. Agatha easily and smoothly took over complete admin-
istration of Sun Construction Company. Louise was at her side consis-
tently now, learning every aspect of the business. She attended every
meeting with the Banac law firm and the monthly reviews at the bank.
Now she learned the minute but crucial workings of the company that
she never imagined existed and were so important. The attention to
detail that Agatha, Oakley and Albert had always practiced was what
had kept the company and its employees working and earning money.
Although Louises engineering experience only consisted of discussing
engineering problems and visiting construction sites with Albert, now
she had no choice but to get involved or possibly lose inherited control
of the company. She could not observe from a distance. She wanted to
be where she was sure Albert would want her, right at the heart of the
company. With Agathas generosity and help making arrangements for
child care, in the office Louise quickly became a full-time working
associate who eagerly took on Alberts challenge.
As Agatha and Louise took over full control of the company, they
began building a new structure next to the old one. The new building
had offices for Agatha and Louise, a conference room, accounting areas
and office space for the engineers and architects. The new floor plan
included a nursery and childrens playroom for Louises kids, as well as
for the other employees children. There were now several large bath-
rooms with showers, lockers for men and women, a lounge and kitchen
to prepare meals, snacks and coffee at break time. When construction of
the new building was complete, Agatha and Louise had a special open-
ing ceremony with all the company employees. A few days later a bull-
dozer and a small crew destroyed the old building in a matter of min-
utes and carried its debris to a landfill nearby. In the cleared space a
parking lot was built, and closer to the river, a large maintenance garage
hid away the trucks and the heavy machinery.
Upon its completion, the building was almost too small. Early on,
the company employees filled up the new space. At first, the nursery and
childrens area were used only by Keller Oakley, Allison Agat, Sol
Louise and the workers children. Soon, as Dame Marie, Emily and
Gloria married and became mothers, they, too, availed themselves of the
244 Alejandro Morales
companys child care services while they shopped and ran errands.
Agatha and Louise noticed how the girls took advantage of the compa-
ny facility and asked Dame Marie, Emily and Gloria to either contribute
to the nursery with a monthly fee or give work time. Dame Marie
accepted a full-time job. At first, Louise and Agatha hired her as an
accountants apprentice while she took an accounting class. Once Dame
Marie received her California Public Accountant Certificate, she was
promoted to a full-time accountant position with Sun Construction
Company. Emily worked for several years as a receptionist/secretary
until her husband built a house on a large parcel of land on Mulholland
Drive, and then she dedicated her time to running the house and raising
five children who came along, one every two years. Gloria surprised the
family when, with the help of her parents, she opened a dress shop near
Rodeo Drive. Her business flourished, and eventually Emily joined her
in running the shop, where success equaled triple profit margins, cater-
ing to the still very wealthy who had survived the Depression. To serve
the less-fortunate community, Gloria opened the doors of a shop in the
Garment District that sold second-hand clothes, appliances and furni-
ture. Because it met a great need, there was an overwhelming customer
response to the store. Thus the Rivers and the Keller families resource-
fully held a finger on the growth and cultural pulse of Los Angeles and
made wise decisions enabling them to have unrecognized, ongoing suc-
cess.
River of Angels 245
POSTSCRIPT
T
he Saturday morning temperature was already at seventy-five
degrees. It was going to be a hot day as the warm Santa Ana winds
were slowly gusting up. Louise had asked the children to drive her over
to visit Grandmother Agatha. They reluctantly agreed. They knew their
mother had been looking at properties for investment purposes, but they
were not sure if that meant having to move. Sol Louise had made
arrangements for friends to go for her there in about an hour.
Louise and Agatha needed to discuss some financial matters.
Agatha had proposed that Louise purchase a house in Brentwood.
Louise loved her house in Boyle Heights, but her parents and all the
Banacs concurred that selling the Boyle Heights residence (or renting if
necessary) and investing in a large parcel of land and a home some-
where on the west side of town would be a wise financial move. The
area on the east side of the river was declining, while on the west side
of the river land was becoming scarce and values were rising. The West-
side attracted businesses, expensive apartment houses and high-end res-
idential development, fast becoming the most desirable place to live in
LA. The east side of the river was designated industrial and residential,
but it was considered the workers, the immigrants poor side of town.
The family had looked at several houses for sale in the nicer residential
areas on the Westside, but Louise had not made up her mind on any
house. She and the children were comfortable in their big beautiful
Boyle Heights home with great views of Los Angeles.
Louises childrenKeller Oakley, Allison Agat and Sol Louise
were against selling their home. They had grown up there, and it was
their house also, they argued. Even though Keller Oakley and Allison
Agat were away at school, and Sol Louise would soon attend the uni-
versity, they still wanted to keep their home. They were adamant, and
they would not budge.
247
After a light lunch, Agatha brought out loan applications and con-
tracts to fill out just in case. They sat reading peacefully, not realizing
that all of the past had permeated the objects, walls and gardens of their
homes. Their past history revealed itself in the smooth shiny surfaces of
the fine furniture, in the glitter of fine chandeliers, in the clink of qual-
ity crystal, china cups and silverware, and on their faces, in the wrinkles
around the corners of their mouths, and the grey streaks in their hair,
and in their pushing away a second serving of chocolate cake. They both
were sipping their tea when the doorbell rang.
Dressed in a navy blue three-piece suit, a black hat, glass-polished
shoes, a man stood before Agatha Rivers. Agatha raised her eyes
upward to the mans smiling face at least a foot above her. He scruti-
nized her face, then the living room where Louise waited, wondering
who he was. The man held tightly to a briefcase.
Good morning, or is it afternoon? The man leaned forward,
accustomed to speaking to people much smaller than he.
Can I help you?
Yes, I would like to speak with Mrs. Rivers.
I am Mrs. Rivers, Agatha answered.
Mrs. Louise Rivers?
Oh, no. Im Agatha Rivers.
Im Mrs. Louise Rivers, Louise called out from the living room
as she approached the front door. Well, what is this all about?
My name is Erasmus Caissing, and I represent Beck, Caissing and
Smith, Attorneys at Law in Los Angeles. It would be easier to explain
why I am here if we can sit down.
Agatha and Louise thought for a second, waited for the other to say
something.
What I have to say concerns both of you.
Louise nodded, and Agatha led Mr. Caissing to the living room. He
studied the living room and motioned to the dining room.
Can we please sit at a table? I have something to show you.
All three moved to the dining room and sat down. Mr. Caissing ges-
tured for permission to place his briefcase on top of the table.
Would you like something to drink?
Mr. Caissing looked at Agatha, shook his head. He opened the lock
on the briefcase and turned slightly.
If I may ask again, you are Mrs. Agatha Rivers, and you are Mrs.
Louise Rivers?
248 Alejandro Morales
They nodded.
Thank you. My comments are for Mrs. Louise Rivers. I hope you
will allow me to finish what I have to tell you before you respond.
What do you have to say? Agatha responded, slightly annoyed.
Is this some kind of lawsuit? Then you have to talk to our lawyers.
Agatha stood up to show Mr. Caissing the door.
On the contrary, this has nothing to do with a lawsuit. Please, Mrs.
Rivers.
Well, what then?
Mr. Caissing addressed his words directly to Louise: Mrs. Rivers,
your Uncle Philip has died.
AFTER ALBERTS HORRIBLE murder, nobody in the family had
heard from Uncle Philip again. The insulting news that the Los Angeles
County District Attorney had not charged him with murder, did not
charge him with any crime at all, came by way of various articles in sev-
eral Los Angeles newspapers. From that moment on, no family member
ever pronounced his name again, and after his disappearance no one
except Ernest wanted to search for him. He simply faded away, van-
ished, and was not heard from again, apparently swallowed up by the
fast-expanding city.
Philip Kellers new Germany, the superior master race, the Nazi
Party and the colony at Murphy Ranch had all collapsed in defeat and
disgrace as parties to the most heinous events in history. Uncle Philips
dedication and faith in his dream that the Aryan master race would rise
to power and rule the world had cost him his relationship with his lov-
ing family. After he was cleared legally of any wrongdoing, he had met
briefly with Ernest on the ourskirts of Los Angeles. At that meeting,
Ernest gave his uncle a substantial amount of money for Uncle Philips
share of Keller Construction.
I informed my father about what you did. He agreed that this is
best for you and the family. He also said that you should not resist, sim-
ply sign the papers and go awaythose were his exact words.
Ernest had finally acted decisively. He bought out his uncle and told
him not to contact him again and never to go to any of the family homes.
Take the money and get out of Los Angeles. Go, take a trip. Dis-
appear! Ernest hugged his uncle for the last time.
PHILIPS LIFE HAD had enjoyed a social, economic and spiritual tra-
jectory upward. With Alberts death, the momentum had suddenly
River of Angels 249
stopped and crashed, shattered into worthless pieces. Now he found
himself, ironically, traveling south on a journey to find answers to a
heavy emptiness that he constantly carried in his heart and mind.
Alberts death had eliminated the person he had claimed to hate beyond
description, but his annihilation created an abyss of emptiness and lone-
liness. Alberts face and twisted body never left him. The young mans
image appeared fleetingly and at times persistently to Philip. He would
wipe his eyes but could not erase Alberts image.
One morning, Philip awoke grieving, sobbing, embarrassed, con-
vinced that he had to go through some kind of atonement for the guilt,
the horrible shame that he endured for the murders of Albert and Sol,
and for the grief that had led to Oakleys demise. The greatest pain that
he could suffer would be self-exile in some desolate place. This deci-
sion came to him during a never-ending night in which he walked with
floating beings and their persistent loving images. Three terrible, lov-
ing, caressing, forgiving figures steadily moved around him. Sol wiped
the blood from his face and offered to embrace Philip. Albert possessed
several round clean holes through which rods of white light shone
through his upper torso; the husband of his niece lovingly called his
name. Oakley stood by with a steady, growing and bursting heart, over
and over again bathing Uncle Philip in blood, love and more love.
Philip cried as he drove south into the land of the mongrels, the land
of the half-breeds, mestizos whom he had hated. Save me from this
hell, he called to them silently as he drove east from San Diego along
the border to Mexicali. At the border, he humbly smiled at the Mexican
guard who waved him on as the voices guided him south to the valley
of the dead. There, the voices whispered, he might find salvation, a new
life and perhaps freedom from the massive exhausting weight he lugged
around, that soaked him in sweat, at times vomit. That afternoon as the
sunlight slowly disappeared and night came, Philip cried, afraid of the
relentless darkness. He cleared the tears from his face as he parked his
truck in front of the Hotel Fronterizo.
While he checked into the hotel, he welcomed the thought that he
could be cleansed of the evil thoughts and the terrible fears he had
toward these dark-skinned people. He asked for this in hopes that, by
fulfilling this cleansing, he would end his suffering. Death he consid-
ered a blessing, and Philip resolved to do nothing to prevent it. Let it
come, he thought, Im ready. He paid with a large bill, aware of his
coaxing anyone who saw the large roll of bills in his hand to rob and,
250 Alejandro Morales
worse, to kill him. He would not resist. Here no one cared who he was
or where he came from. There would be no one to contact, so he would
be buried in a common grave in a potters field marked by a wooden
cross that soon would crumble and become dust. He deserved nothing
less than complete annihilation from memory, as if he had never exist-
ed. He ate dinner, drank tea, went to his room and waited for his three
companions to appear that dreadful night.
Philip Keller kept driving. The days were bearable, but during the
nightswhen he tried to close his eyes, rest, sleeptwo bloody bodies
and one blue dead man with open bulging eyes poked, pushed and
touched his mind with their faces screaming, whispering and waking
him up in a profuse sweat, as if he had been running for hours. He
awoke startled and gasping for breath; there was no oxygen in whatev-
er room he slept. Philip often grabbed at his chest, feeling a sharp pain.
Finally a massive heart attack would end this living nightmare. Night
after night the pain came, but Philip still woke up every morning, alive.
On a hot afternoon, he was sitting in the central plaza of a Mexican
town when he heard a group of people speaking English. He sat a little
closer to hear what they were saying, but could only catch pieces of
their conversation. The women mentioned a mission and a priest that
offered help for people in terrible distress. The group got up and went
to an ice cream vendor. They started to talk again. Enjoying their ice
cream cones, they finally mentioned the location. Philip understood
Valdelupe, but he was not sure. He braved it and approached the group.
Hi, I heard you speaking English. Im wondering if you can help
me find a place. I think its nearby. Its called Valdeelupe, Valdelupee?
The women laughed at the pronunciation. Youre real cute, mister.
You mean you overheard our conversation. I watched you move closer
to us and follow us over here. You want an ice cream?
You heard wrong, mister. Its the Valle de Guadalupe, the Valley of
Guadalupe.
Whats it known for? Philip asked with a smile. For the first time
in years, it seemed, he had smiled.
For its old grape vines and its wines. But nobody really knows
about it.
And for a priest who treats the troubled. Lots of Americans go
there for that reason.
Where is it? Philip called to the group as they walked away.
River of Angels 251
Go south, and when the road splits, go left, southeast into the val-
ley. When you see lots of vineyards, youll know youre there. Hey, take
water, plenty of water.
Good luck, old man.
Philip could not help looking at the gas station attendants scarred
face. While the man filled the pickup and three ten-gallon containers
with gas, Philip bought bottles of water and apple cider and ice for the
large ice chest that he carried in the truck bed. The attendant noticed the
amount of gas Philip had purchased and what he had placed in the ice
chest. He asked where Philip was headed and slowly repeated direc-
tions. The man spoke a little English, but made himself understood
more by his hand gestures. Philip clearly understood that at the fork he
had to go left, down into the valley for a couple of hours. Philip won-
dered what had happened to the mans face and pointed the pickup
south.
The road was dusty and in places very rough. If he didnt make it,
he would die. If he did, he was convinced he would get help. Philip then
remembered the attendants optimism, sure that he would make it with
plenty of sunlight to spare. On the road, Philip kept thinking about the
man. He would be hard to forget. He was slim, arms like cables,
appeared to be very strong, and his face was filled with deep blue and
purple scars that seemed decorative. The Mexican was right. It took
about three hours. Philip parked his truck in front of the entrance to an
old church in the middle of a large dry square. He entered and made his
way to a bench in the middle row of the church. In a while his compan-
ions sat on each side of him. Philip looked into their faces and cried qui-
etly, but no one came to help him, to ask him what was wrong. No priest
was in sight. He walked to the altar, gazed at the crucified Christ alone
on the cross. Nobody came to help him either, he thought. Following
childrens voices through a back door of the church to where children
played on the hard-packed earth, there he found three long narrow white
wooden buildings placed on three sides of the playground. A few chil-
dren stared at him, several nuns called, and the children went into the
classrooms. Philip found himself in the middle of the playground. As he
turned to leave, he saw a tall brown-robed priest.
Hes not Mexican, was Philipss first reaction. They shook hands
under the Valle de Guadalupe sun. Philip kicked the dusty white ground
while the Franciscan talked. It was a one-way conversation as Philip
kept nodding his head, affirming most of what the priest said. They
252 Alejandro Morales
shook hands again. They got into Philips truck, drove around the
church buildings and down the main bumpy road for almost one hour.
The road was like driving over a washboard, rattling the truck constant-
ly and at times so intensely that Philip was forced to reduce speed to ten
miles an hour or less. Not much was said inside the truck, while outside
the terrain became vast. The environment changed from hard dusty
earth to dark long rows of grapevines heavy with red grapes. The
parcels of land seemed to go for miles. At last the Franciscan asked
Philip to turn onto another dark earthen road. They were now driving
toward the mountains. Up ahead a large red-tiled-roof house loomed
high on a slow-rising hill. Two large warehouses and a delicately gaudy
church were located in back of the house. The priest pointed to the
church. They left the vehicle behind, and the priest made the sign of the
cross several times before entering the sanctuary. He led Philip to a
room behind the altar.
Here you will sleep. This is the shower, the toilet. You can put your
clothes in the closet. At seven, come to the house for dinner. You will
eat with the brothers. The priest headed out of the room.
Thank you. What can I call you? Sir?
Not sir. You can call me Father Mark.
The food was good. The brothers and the workers were polite. At
first he did not like eating with people he considered inferior human
beings, but the Mexican workers treated him well. They called him
gero, for the light color of his skin, and began to instruct him on work-
ing in the vineyards. Over the months, they taught him about the earth,
the soils, the vines, the grapes, the weather, the different temperatures
effect on the grapes, and the precise time and art of harvesting. What
fascinated Philip most was the chemical process of making wine. The
winemakers showed him their storage methods and their ancient tech-
nique of constructing oak wine barrels for fermenting and aging.
More months went by following the same routine day after day. At
least my three companions dont visit as much anymore, Philip lay in
bed thinking, waiting for the bells to start ringing in the morning. If any-
thing bothered him, it was living in the room behind the altar and the
part of his job that required him to clean the church. He swept, mopped,
scrubbed, polished, repaired and placed wherever the brothers indicated
benches, candle holders, vases, paintings and figures of Christ, Mary
and all the saints, angels and archangels.
River of Angels 253
Every morning at four forty-five he assisted the priest as he dressed
for Mass. Father Mark trained him to serve at Mass. Those who worked
at the church and the vineyard and winery took time to attend Mass
before starting work. Philip did not like being up at the altar with Father
Mark in front of the brothers and the workers. It bothered him that the
Mexicans stared at him, el gero, for such a long time, that maybe they
were judging him, and that they knew what he had done. Philip did not
understand why or how he had ended up at the altar in a church in the
middle of the Valle de Guadalupe.
He had been at the winery for almost a year when Father Mark,
after Mass, approached him. Here, use these, he said, as he handed
Philip a notebook and pen.
Philip had no idea what to write in the notebook, but he started to
put down his thoughts, what he saw, what he thought about the people
he worked and lived with every day. After listening to the Mass in Latin
every morning, he studied the Daily Missal and began to write down the
Latin words, phrases and prayers that Father Mark sang. He repeated
the Mass word for word every day for years, and he learned to make the
sign of the cross when he was in or when he passed the church. The rit-
uals became part of his daily existence, part of his day-and-night rou-
tine. The words, the physical gestures, the signs, the icons found a safe
place in his memory. He didnt know when this had happened, but he
simply accepted the rituals as comforting elements of this new life he
was experiencing. Although he did not understand it all, he welcomed
the words and gestures of the Mass more and more, realizing that
repeating the Mass at night kept the nightmares from coming and kept
away most of the visits by Sol, Albert and Oakley. His heart twisted
with the mere thought of their names. The prayers created a space for
him to sleep, to rest his mind and body, made it easier to carry the
weight of the guilt for the lives he had destroyed. Finally he was able to
sleep through the night, but he could never forget. When he opened his
eyes every morning, his first thoughts were Sol, Albert and Oakley. He
could not stop them from greeting him every morning. As he wrote
more in his notebook, he noticed that he spoke less and less. Eventual-
ly, he only spoke when it was absolutely necessary. Listening carefully,
working hard, praying the Mass, listening to silence developed in him
the discipline and practice of silence. In the silence he found a kind of
peace and blissful state he had never experienced before.
254 Alejandro Morales
This state was broken by gentle Spanish wordsspoken by the
woman who made the daily meals for Father Mark and the workers
asking him to please light a candle for someone in need of Gods light
and to say a prayer for her while he served at Mass. Philip listened to
the womans requests. He smiled and nodded yes. After so many years
the language that he heard daily had slowly claimed his understanding
and moved his lips and tongue to pronounce its sounds, its words.
Understanding the language, the Spanish compelled him, unaware, to
enter the speakers hearts and open his. He broke the silence only with
Spanish words, began seeing the world differently from the perspectives
of English and the little German that he had learned. He was comfort-
able in the world of Spanish. The woman thanked him with a warm
abrazo. From that time on, she greeted him in the morning with Mi
gero as he arrived for breakfast and Adis, mi gero when he left
for work.
On a cold windy day, Philip draped a poncho over his shoulders, ran
into Father Mark as they both headed to the church from opposite direc-
tions. They met as one turned right and the other turned left. Father
Mark did not hesitatemaybe he had been thinking about this question
for a long time.
Felipe, why dont you say your confession? Youve been with us
enough time now. You should take communion, dont you think?
Father Mark and everyone only addressed him in Spanish now.
Padre, todava no puedo.
Felipe, your sins cannot be that great. Father Mark insisted that
Philip go to confession. I have never asked if you were baptized, but I
will allow you to go to confession. Here we administer the sacraments
as needed, when they will do the most good. You should confess and
accept Jesus Christ as your Savior. Do this in thanks for all the Lord has
given you. Do this because you will go forth and do good in his name.
The very next day, at morning Mass, Father Mark and all the win-
ery workers and house staff gathered around Philip. Before he under-
stood what was happening, Philip Keller had been baptized and con-
firmed into the Catholic Church. He did not reject the rituals because he
knew the ceremony made everyone happy. Thank you were his only
words. On Saturday afternoon he went to confession and took com-
munion at the Sunday morning Mass in which he served.
Antonia, the woman who worked in the kitchen, went to the church
while Philip was cleaning the holy statues. In the kitchen, in the church,
River of Angels 255
in the gardens they had seen each other many times. He often assisted
Antonia by taking baskets of wet clothes into the house, by picking veg-
etables in the garden and fruits from the orchards. She always called on
him when she needed any kind of help. That day in the church they were
both alone in the silence of the sanctuary. The only sound she heard was
her heart pounding. He acknowledged her, continued cleaning, then he
felt her body directly behind him.
Felipe, necesito tu ayuda.
Philip saw tears in her eyes. Antonia took his hands and held them
together and moved closer to his chest, whispering: Felipe, aydame
con esto, entindeme, Felipe, con esto!
Antonia embraced him, rested her head on his shoulder. Holding
her, Philip felt at peace in mind and body. He had found a blissful exis-
tence in which the warmth and love of a woman or a man was absolute-
ly not essential. He came to believe that human beings were capable of
surviving through the loneliness they were born into. To comprehend
this, all they had to do was stand still long enough to listen to their con-
dition at any point in their lives. If they were perfectly still and listened
long enough, they would hear how lonely they were. Very few people
discover this in their lifetime; they just rush and rush into death.
THE BELLS OF the church rang louder and longer than usual. Philip
got up to see what the commotion was about. He hadnt heard the bells
clang so loudly during the time he had lived at the mission. He washed,
dressed quickly, made the sign of the cross, walked through the church,
opened the doors and stepped outside into the rays of the Valle de
Guadalupe sun breaking through the clouds, and watched Father Mark
and several of the house workers set up a small table for water, wine and
a pot of coffee, cups and sweet bread. He returned to his room, took off
his leather slippers and put on his work boots. As he walked out to the
church again, the bells ceased clanging. Later that morning Philip was
called to the library. He did not recognize two cars that had been parked
under the carports at the side of the warehouse. All the fuss must have
been about visitors.
Before he went into the library, he walked by the kitchen. Antonia
served him a small cup of coffee. He looked at her and smiled. Philip
wondered about her. He was puzzled as to why a woman like her was
even attracted to a much older man. Or was it even attraction? Maybe it
was something else, some other need he might fulfill. She wasnt a
256 Alejandro Morales
young woman by far, but she was attractive. Antonias graceful man-
nerisms, her easy smile, her arrogant nose, her lips and chin; for the first
time, he began to discover this beautiful woman. Antonia returned to her
work. Through two large windows, he caught sight of two horsemen
leading a dozen horses to the water trough. As for the feelings stirred by
Antonia, were they the same as those he had felt for lovers hed known?
Philip worked to suppress these kinds of thoughts. He did not need a
man or a woman in his self-imposed solitude.
He had never been in the library before, but had seen the library
from outside and from other rooms in the house, and now, for the first
time, he realized that the library served as a hub connecting several
rooms of the house. It was furnished with heavy antique wooden pieces:
large chairs and couches covered in soft stretched leather, exquisitely
carved tables and high cabinets. On delicately carved tables sat colorful
cut-glass lamps, on the walls were tapestry and curtains pulled back to
let the sun warm the room. Father Mark and another priest were sitting
deep in the library surrounded by tall bookcases next to a dark
mahogany desk. Two glasses of red wine waited patiently on a small
serving table. Father Mark motioned to Philip to take a wooden straight-
back chair. Seconds later Antonia set a third glass on the table and filled
it with red wine. She left the bottle in the midst of the three glasses.
Philip, this is Father Charles Espelete. He has come from South-
ern California to talk to you.
Father Charles raised his glass and waited for Father Mark and
Philip to do the same. Father Mark noticed Philips hesitation.
Just a bit will be fine.
Thank you, Father Mark, as your reception of me is, as always,
very generous. Your generosity is a blessing to all of us.
Father Charles studied the books above him. He seemed very com-
fortable. Philip contemplated his glass of wine. Outside the wind stirred
several glass chimes. In the kitchen a woman called out instructions to
her helpers.
Philip, you have done very well here at the mission. Father Mark
says you do quality work and have many skills. You do fine work with
your hands, in carpentry, and you know much about plants, trees and
cultivating gardens for harvesting. And he tells me that you have mas-
tered the science of winemaking. Father Charles leaned forward, took
a sip of wine.
River of Angels 257
We need your help. I have come to invite you to our monastery in
California. If you accept our invitation, you will oversee the gardens,
orchards, be responsible for the maintenance of the monastery and the
chapel. You will be in charge of the grounds and buildings at the Bene-
dictine Monastery in Montebello. For your labor the order will provide
lodging, sustenance and a small monthly compensation. Your ultimate
blessing will come from God, my son, from God.
Father Charles sat back and once again contemplated the leather
books on the shelves in front of him. Both Father Mark and Father
Charles looked to Philip for his response, but the only sound that filled
the library was the music of glasses clinking as Antonia poured wine
into the priests glasses. Philip only allowed the wine to caress his lips
after he nodded acceptance of the offer. The priests drank to Philips
acceptance of the position.
Antonia watched him and caught his eye, and in one second all
things were said between them. She left the library to resume her regu-
lar duties.
Well then, Philip, we leave in the morning at six. You can follow
in your truck. Im sure youll put it to good use at the monastery. Thank
you, thank you for helping us.
ERASMUS CAISSING PUSHED several documents toward Louise
Rivers.
Mrs. Rivers, Philip Keller worked and lived at the Benedictine
Monastery for about twenty years. He died peacefully in his sleep three
weeks ago. He had worked for room and board and a small stipend. At
the end of every month hed deposit his money in two accounts at the
Bank of America in Montebello. He had opened the accounts with two
large deposits. During the twenty years working for the monastery he
was able to save in the two accounts a substantial . . . a substantial
amount of money. He had invested his money successfully. He led a
secluded life, hardly ever leaving the monastery grounds. He rarely
talked. I visited him almost every week to assist him in making invest-
ments. He never cut his hair or beard. He was quite a sight. Most kids,
the Mexicans and their children, called him El hombre oso. When we
went to the bank, people referred to him as The Bear. I think the
tellers considered him a very wealthy, mysterious bear. He lived the life
of a hermit. He told me he lived a life of penance.
258 Alejandro Morales
Mr. Caissing paused for a moment, shuffled several papers and
pushed one more document toward Louise.
Mrs. Rivers, your Uncle Philip Keller employed our firm to coun-
sel him on investing money and safeguarding his estate. We did the
research, he made most of the decisions, and we made all the purchas-
es of stocks, bonds and properties as well as other financial instruments
that benefited his net worth. We worked for him. I worked for him. That
he did not want this wealth for himself was made very clear from the
beginning of our business relationship. But he always knew, and our
firm knew, to whom it was willed. Philip Keller made sure that his
wealth was legally willed and legally assigned to you, Mrs. Louise
Keller Rivers, and to your children: Keller Oakley, Allison Agat and Sol
Louise.
Mrs. Rivers, I worked with Philip for many years. We investigated
and knew about his past. What I am trying to say is that I dont think
that this will mean that he is asking for forgiveness, because I know that
he believed that what he was involved in and what happened was unfor-
givable. Well, Im sure this comes as a shock to you. As you can see,
this has nothing to do with any kind of lawsuit. The accounts are at the
Bank of America, Montebello Branch, the first under the name of Mrs.
Louise Rivers and the second in trust for Keller Oakley Rivers, Allison
Agat Rivers and Sol Louise Rivers. Mrs. Rivers, at this time you are the
only person authorized to withdraw funds from these accounts. To fin-
ish up here, I must say that after so many years working with your uncle
and these accounts, I believe we did an excellent job. You will see this
when you contrast the opening deposits and the account balances now.
My firm would like to continue working with you to assist in the man-
agement of these funds, unless you decide otherwise. We will have to
go to the bank to formalize ownership. Please bring two kinds of iden-
tification, at least one with a photo. Your children should accompany
you to this meeting to record their signatures. The complete transfer
should happen within a few weeks, and this will be the last step. Heres
my card with my office and home numbers. You can call me any time.
Mr. Caissing packed his copies in the briefcase and stood up.
Congratulations, Mrs. Rivers, and I hope to hear from you soon.
Please dont get up. I can see the door from here. Thank you and good-
bye.
River of Angels 259
EPILOGUE
Hey, Alex, we better go in. I cant get to the books. Ill get them later.
I merged into the crowd with my thoughts about the bridges, the
workers and the river. While I stood there at the library waiting to enter
the Mark Taper Auditorium, I explored images of the workers, thinking
of the daily joy and satisfaction they must have experienced in watch-
ing the huge concrete columns rise above the river. I imagined the work-
ers constructing the bridge surface over the giant columns they had sunk
into the earth. The space and time of the 1920s clung to me.
Come on! Mark waved me on.
Absorbed in the photographs, I brought the images of the bridges
and the men with me. The men hesitated a little, but they joined hun-
dreds of men and women moving forward, shoulder to shoulder, chest
to back, slowly taking tiny steps, gently pushing their way through the
librarys narrow hall and entrance. Mark and I and my new friends final-
ly crossed the threshold and entered the wide auditorium.
Lets get up as close as we can.
Mark and I went down an aisle to about the fifth row, where we
took the two seats on the end. I sat quietly, perfectly still, shuffling in
my mind through the photographs of the bridge builders. I imagined my
bridge worker friends taking up almost all the seats in the section in
which we were sitting. Mark got immediately to talking with four
women who had come in from the other end of our row to the seats next
to ours. They were elegantly dressed in low-cut gowns. They all had
jeweled handbags and fine sheer stoles on their shoulders. I couldnt
help but notice the diamond necklaces, earrings and rings that glittered
against their tanned skin. Mark and the women were engaged in a con-
versation about Bastard Out of Carolina and its author. The woman next
to Mark turned her shoulder to engage him eye to eye. She laughed at
261
Marks comments, and he kept chattering, delighting the ladies until the
lights dimmed. The auditorium became black and grey like the photo-
graphs of the bridge builders. Others in the audience as well as my
bridge-making friends had probably also been watching the women, but
Im not sure exactly what they were watching. Mark stopped talking,
stood up and hastily climbed over me.
I gotta get her books now. There might not be any left if I wait.
Mark, theyre going to start any minute! Youll never make it!
Mark quickly walked down the first aisle and ascended the wheel-
chair ramp to the doors. I sat there thinking he was going to be locked
out. The lights dimmed again. Last-minute arrivals were finding seats.
The master of ceremonies came onstage. I stretched my neck to hear the
instructions from a photographer, like the workers probably did stand-
ing on construction scaffolding around cement pillars and buttresses
just before their photo was taken.
In a few minutes, well start. We have a slight audio problem. He
retreated backstage. I smiled at the lady next to me. She leaned into
Marks seat.
Your friend is very nice. He knows so much about literature.
The workers knew so much about building. They were natural engi-
neers, I thought.
I nodded and turned my attention to the master of ceremonies, who
stood ready to walk back on. In the back I heard the doors close. The
lights went down. The auditorium went quiet. I looked at my watch. I
guessed more than a few minutes had passed. Mark didnt make it back.
My friends knew how many workers didnt make it building the bridges.
I heard a knock at the auditorium doors. Another knocka little louder
this timesounded in my ear
In the dark and completely silent auditorium, I started to hear steps
coming down the corridor.
Alex, Alex, Mark whispered.
At that instant I prayed he remembered where I was seated. The
images of workers standing on narrow ledges high above the Los Ange-
les River, holding on with one hand and balancing on one foot and
extending their bodies over the river below filled my mind. They
showed no fear. They smiled. They seemed happy in the photos. By now
Marks eyes had adjusted to the darkness. He turned his head and rec-
ognized the woman with whom he had been talking. In that instant he
262 Alejandro Morales
did not see me pointing to the step at the end of the aisle. When he final-
ly saw me, he stepped forward.
Oh, Mark!!! Then he screamed.
I raised my hands up, hoping to support his flight downward to the
river belowbooks, tools flew through the air; screams from the
woman, the workers and the audience around me filled the Central City,
throughout the construction site as Marktrying to hold himself from
falling further forward and landing on the woman and me on the muddy
river bottomended up on top of her green thick moss dress.
Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Oh, oh! she uttered loudly.
Im sorry! Im sorry! Mark kept repeating while he struggled to
stand up.
Oh my, oh my. Take your hand out of there!
The chuckle from the audience turned into outright laughter. Mark,
having a difficult time coordinating his body to stand upright, grabbed me
and finally got his balance. He had landed literally on top of the woman
and me. His head and the upper part of his body were over the woman
while his legs and feet flailed over me. An usher and the people seated
around us handed Mark his books and corralled him into his seat. At the
instant of Marks flying fall, I imagined the frozen figures in the photos
moving to show what really had happened on that day the photo was shot.
Below, on the edge of the river, the workers wrapped their fellow travel-
er in heavy grey tarps. The photographer took as many photos as his cam-
era set-up permitted. He was only able to photograph the man standing on
the scaffolding at the highest point on the bridge and then several of the
bodies at the bottom on the riverbank. The audience tried to suppress the
laughter, but of course some people . . . for some it was impossible. The
audience considered the spectacle nothing less than a Charlie Chaplin or
a Laurel and Hardy scene. At first, watching their comrades wave while
shaking his leg out and over the river, it was funny, and they laughed and
joked about the acrobatics. People naturally laughed at the situation.
If everybody is fine, we can get back to tonights speaker! the
master of ceremonies announced from the podium.
Lets get back to work! the foreman ordered, perched on the back
of a flatbed truck.
The lights went down and I sat staring into the dark, pursued by
scenes of workers who had constructed the intriguing and magnificent
bridges across the enduring Ro de Nuestra Seora la Reina de Los
Angeles de la Porcincula.
Epilogue 263
AUTHORS NOTE
E
ver since I can remember, I enjoyed going with my parents to the
Montebello Branch of the Bank of America to make a monthly
deposit. My mother made a deposit in the Christmas Club, and my
father put part of his salary and some gambling funds in a savings
account. There were occasions when Father went by himself and took
me along in case he needed an interpreter. It was during the late 1950s:
I remember this because I was in Montebello Junior High School about
the time that the bank hired a teller who spoke Spanish. Father always
looked for Mrs. Berry because she enjoyed speaking Spanish with him
and with every Spanish-speaking client who came into the bank. Father
was a man of habit. He always went to the bank at the same time on the
last Friday of the month at about three in the afternoon and always got
in Mrs. Berrys line, no matter how long it was. Also on that day and
time, another man would walk into the bank to make a deposit. He, like
my father, always marched directly to Mrs. Berrys window. When this
man came into the bank, tellers and customers stopped talking or at least
turned to see him. When I was a boy in junior high school, I was never
afraid of him like the little kids who saw him and cried. What was per-
haps shocking and fascinating about the man was that he appeared big
and strong, and his face was completely covered with long hair. He had
long bushy hair and a full wide and long beard. No matter if it was hot,
very hot or cold, very cold or rainy, he always wore heavy clothing with
long-sleeved shirts and a large wool sport coat. His hands were covered
with gloves with the tips of the fingers cut off. When Mrs. Berry was
hired, the man was aware that she spoke Spanish and started to go to her
line. They conversed in Spanish. She giggled and he laughed at her
comments. She was polite to him and seemed to enjoy talking with him.
I never got tired of watching him, but I certainly understood how he
could scare little kids, even adults. There were occasions when my par-
265
ents and I lined up right behind the man. Mother wanted to move to
another line, but Father refused and did not move. I sensed that Father
had a kind of respect for the man who banked the same day and time
that he did.
When our turn came up, we walked up together. Hello Mr. and
Mrs. Morales! And how are you, Alejandro? Mrs. Berry always greet-
ed her customers by their names. It was because of the happy way she
said your name that I enjoyed hearing her say other peoples names. I
listened to how she said the name of the person ahead of us in line.
Thats how I heard her say the mans last nameMr. Kellerbut on
just about every visit we made to the bank when the man was there, the
manager came to say hello and Mrs. Berry would call out Mr. Philip
Keller has a question, Mr. Torrymen. Thats how I got to know his full
nameMr. Philip Kellerthe man whose face was covered in hair,
who banked monthly with my dad at the same day and hour. My father
never asked about him; he wasnt curious about a man who obviously
stood out. The man got consistent attention and respect from the bank
manager and from Mrs. Berry. To most people the man looked like a
homeless derelict, a dirty bum to be avoided. My father never ventured
into inquiring about the mans personal history. I think it was his way of
respecting him.
By the time I was in high school, I had a part-time job working at
a supermarket and I had my own savings account at the Montebello
Branch of the Bank of America, and I banked on the same day and time
as my father and mother always had. By then my father was a little
older, and so Mother and he gave me the money to make the deposits in
their accounts. In 1963, the year I was to graduate from high school, I
remember seeing several times that large hairy man at the bank, but on
those occasions he was accompanied by a very professional-looking
man who wore a three-piece suit and carried a fine leather briefcase.
Hello, Mr. Keller! Oh, and you brought Mr. Caissing. Ill call Mr. Tor-
rymen. Of course, Mrs. Berry greeted them clearly and loudly. Mr.
Keller and Mr. Caissing spoke quietly with Mrs. Berry. They stepped
aside and allowed me to make my deposit. I felt kind of privileged to
know Mr. Kellers name. Still, after all those years growing up with
him, the man still intrigued me, maybe even more. By then I figured Mr.
Keller must have had a healthy account to get so much special attention
from the branch manager. Yet Mr. Keller never changed: he looked
clean, but he always wore the same clothes, and his hair was as thick
266 Alejandro Morales
and as long as before. I was sure he had to trim it. While Mrs. Berry was
counting my parents cash and running our savings deposit booklets
through the machine, the two men were escorted to the managers
office. Mrs. Berry counted my cash deposit and studied my savings
booklet. When she was about to stick the booklet into the calculator
machine, I asked: Mrs. Berry, what is the hairy mans name? Its
Keller, right? Who is he?
Alejandro, I cant tell you his name because of privacy issues. I
could be fired. You wouldnt want that to happen. I can tell you what
you probably already know, because Im sure you have heard the kids
yell it out. Sorry to say, people call him The Bear, el oso.
She gathered the two savings booklets and my mothers Christmas
Club booklet and handed them to me. Here you are. Say hello to your
mom and dad.
I exited the bank and sat in my Volkswagen Beetle reviewing the
figures in my savings account when el oso and Mr. Caissing walked out
and drove away in an old pickup truck. That might have been the last
time I saw el oso, but I followed him on Montebello Boulevard and
turned left on Beverly, drove for about a couple of minutes, then
watched him turn right and disappear behind the Benedictine
Monastery, where Father Charles was the administrator.
Alejandro Morales
Santa Ana, CaliAztln
Authors Note 267