The end of the school year of 1914 found Paquita, Nana and Jesus in wait of the arrival of a new baby. Their mother had tried to hide her pregnancy as long as possible but size had become an undisguisable factor. Nana and Paquita curiously asked questions concerning their mother’s protruding abdomen.
That the summer would be extremely hot was the neighbors’ consensus as they gathered and chatted outside the Simons white washed homes early in the morning. The night before, Malaquías gave the girls each a white bonnet decorated with a long red ribbon. He had told them it was to protect their beautiful skin from the fire-like sun.
Nana and Paquita went off to school playing with the ribbons on their new bonnets. On the way, other children commented on the beauty of the bonnets. Both girls were quite happy and proud of their lovely hats, but even amidst all the attention their thoughts were with their mother and they hoped that by the time they returned home she would have had the baby. The girls passed the arroyo and moved up the hill to the Vail School playground. Suddenly a hand knocked off Paquita’s bonnet, which fell into the arroyo. Paquita turned and watched her white bonnet slowly float away. Nana immediately recognized Elvira Pedroza run up the hill and not look back.
“Come on, let’s get the bonnet. The water will take it!” Nana urged her sister.
Nana and Paquita cautiously moved to the edge of the riverlet. Paquita, who was downstream, had picked up a long twig with which to snag the hat as it floated close to her. Attention focused on the moving white object between them. Nana reached with a shorter twig, and suddenly two bonnets appeared in the stream. A scream broke from the surface of the water as Nana sat incensed and watched Jesus Pedroza, who had pushed her in, escape to the classroom.
At the top of her voice Nana expressed her fury in unintelligible utterances. Paquita walked into the water to help her sister and fell. Nana and Paquita sat leaning on their arms and hands stretched out behind them and watched their beautiful white bonnets with the red ribbons float faster out of sight. They rose slowly and stepped toward home. In a few minutes they arrived gasping from the hard run and could barely make sense to their mother. Finally, at the kitchen table, after their clothes had been changed and their hair wrapped in a towel, the girls calmed down enough to explain what had occurred.
“Who is going to stop those Pedrozas?” Nana asked softly ... They are the children of Mr. Gonzalo Pedroza and he’s capable of kicking out any family who touches them ... These thoughts Lorenza did not share as she prepared hot chocolate for her daughters. Lorenza moved slowly, for her unborn child was always in front of her. She served the chocolate to Nana, Paquita and Jesus, who listened sadly to the story of the loss of the two white bonnets. Lorenza left the children in the kitchen and exited to the back garden to start the laundry.
All that morning and afternoon, Nana had repeatedly created the images that crashed into her vision and mind. The feeling of the helplessness of watching the water take her bonnet away persisted. And Jesus and Elvira Pedroza were to blame.
Nana waited amidst her potted flowers, hoping that by chance the Pedrozas had taken the long way home. Her patience proved to be productive. They advanced alone—Jesus, Elvira and Francisco—whistling, laughing, kicking a can and hoping for the opportunity to tease Nana again. The Pedrozas saw Nana on the porch, stopped, conferred and approached her. But this time Nana had determined that she would stand up to the Pedrozas. She did not know exactly how, but whatever the consequences the Pedrozas would never again pick on her and Paquita. The Pedrozas admired the potted plants.
“What pretty flowers, Nanita,” Jesus teased.
Elvira reached for one of the pots and Nana grabbed her hand and squeezed. Nana pushed Elvira to the ground. Her light skin contrasted with Elvira’s chocolate tone.
“Don’t touch it, blacky!” Nana defended her territory.
“Don’t call me that!” Elvira yelled.
“Blacky, blacky! I’ll call you what I please, blacky!” Nana shouted.
“Please don’t call me that!” Elvira pleaded.
“Don’t call my sister blacky!” Jesus demanded.
“Blacky, blacky, blacky!” Nana’s sisters Paquita and Jesus joined the chorus.
Attracted by the melee, two other children neared to find Elvira in tears, her brother Francisco crying and Jesus Pedroza yelling at the de León girls who repeated the chorus. Minutes later, five more children sang. The chanting became unbearable to the Pedroza children.
“Blacky, Elvira the blacky, blacky, Elvira is a blacky, blacky!”
The children had surrounded the Pedrozas. Jesus pushed his sobbing brother and sister through the circle and they ran home, trailed by a singing tail of thirteen unafraid children. The Pedrozas reached their front gate and the chanting stopped. Jesus, Elvira and Francisco looked back and discovered that they were alone.
Chapter 7
Laura and Sara rejoiced at seeing the family enjoy the dinner they had prepared that afternoon of July 4, 1916. Although it was a special day Joseph and Walter decided to celebrate quietly together at Walter’s home. An early dinner was the order of the afternoon, and afterward the family planned to sit on the porch and watch Rosendo direct five men in lighting fireworks purchased in the Chinatown of Los Angeles. Joseph, Laura and James strolled about the rockets, fountains and bombs being set up. The sun glimmered off the shiny silver firework canisters that would lay the street for three hours until night when they would streak through the sky to burst into multicolored flowers.
Sara went to Walter, who was seated in a comfortable chair on the porch. No words were exchanged; instead a smile and a touch were shared with confidence. She moved out to the street to where Laura watched the rockets being readied. From where he sat, Walter watched them and felt comfortable. His stomach satisfied, mind rested, passions gratified, body healthy and soothed by the afternoon sun, he would not move. His desire was to hold the feeling forever. The family moved in and out of the house. Outside they bathed in the sun, but impatiently hurried its descent.
At dusk, Melissa was brought out to experience the fireworks from the seat that Walter had abandoned just minutes ago. Walter could see his mother from the street where he checked the last installations of the fireworks. It grew darker and Melissa stared straight ahead, motionless. When the fireworks began she never changed her posture, nor was she startled by the great booms and fierce beautiful lights of the bombs and rockets. Everyone held their fingers to their ears and stood sideways to the rockets. An excited James was stopped from going out into the street by Joseph, who scolded the boy and sat him down on the steps. Laura and Sara joined James while Joseph stood with Walter next to Melissa.
“She doesn’t respond to anything anymore,” Joseph said to Walter who watched a rocket go into the sky. “Orin Elmer loved fireworks!” he declared, angered at Walter for not saying a word about their mother.
“At least I didn’t refuse him any chance he might have had to live,” Walter said rapidly.
“What do you mean by that?” Joseph asked sharply.
Boom! Millions of bright colors fell from the sky.
“Come on, don’t shut up. Nothing could have saved him. Not even your Mexican witch doctors you wanted to bring to him,” Joseph said angrily, looking at the curtains of red hanging in the night sky.
“I don’t care what you want to call them. They just might have been able to save his life,” Walter retorted and started down the steps.
“Now wait a minute! You’re not going to blame me, damn you! It was those insects that killed him!” Joseph shouted.
Boom! Patriotic fire brushed across the stars.
“He might have been saved if you had allowed the curandero to see him!”
“Don’t say that, Walter.” Joseph’s lips tightened at the use of his brother’s name.
“I don’t have to because everyone knows it.” Walter hurt his brother.
Laura, Sara and James stepped between the brothers and pushed them away from each
other.
“Damn you, Walter! Why don’t you go live with your Mexicans?” Joseph challenged.
“Why should I? This is my home. This house belongs to me. I earned it!” Walter shouted.
“You’re wrong. This house belongs to my son and he shall have it,” Joseph responded furiously.
“Go home, Joseph. Go cool off and I’ll see you tomorrow,” Walter suggested.
“I’ll see you in court, beloved brother,” Joseph said.
“Good. It’s about time we settled matters.” Walter gave a signal to Rosendo.
Boom! The fireworks lit the night with magnificent colors and holiday gaiety. Joseph walked with Laura and was in the street before James could react to what had occurred. James, at a loss as to why he could not see the fireworks with his grandmother, uncle and aunt, hurried after his parents. He would enjoy the artificial fires while sitting on the steps of his own porch.
Joseph opened the gate door and glanced up to wonder about what he had threatened to his only brother. Laura and James joined him on the porch.
“Walter is the only brother you have left,” Laura said, kissing him and hugging her son.
Perhaps family was more important than economic possessions or brotherly rivalry, Joseph mused. His father was dead and his mother was not with them mentally. Orin Elmer had been eaten by insects and madness. Walter was the only brother alive. His three sisters, back in Iowa, seldom wrote. They declared no claim to what he and Walter had built. The brick factories were his and Walter’s. The Los Angeles, Pasadena, Simons, Santa Monica brickyards and the yard they were considering developing in El Centro belonged to them and their heirs. Nonetheless, they had to come to an agreement as to which one of them would administer what yard.
Joseph didn’t want the Simons yard. Walter had usurped that yard and made his town. Joseph disagreed with the paternalistic way in which Walter operated the Simons yard. He was uncomfortable with Walter being the great father to the peasant Mexicans. A written agreement must be reached, he thought as the last volley of rockets shot into the sky.
“I’ll go for Mother,” Joseph said to Laura.
“But please don’t argue with him,” Laura worried.
Joseph nodded, walked across the street, went to Melissa and started to guide her back. Walter came to the porch as Joseph closed the gate door. Walter went down to the gate.
“Good-night, Mother,” Walter called and wished she would answer.
Joseph stopped and stared into Melissa’s eyes and hoped. But not the slightest response came.
She stood like a stone, looking outward until someone or something moved it. Walter was at her side now and kissed her.
“Joseph, we must meet at my Simons office tomorrow. It should be done as soon as possible,” Walter said.
Joseph, bothered with the direct way Walter made a decision for him without any consideration as to what his plans might be for tomorrow, mentally heeded Laura’s warning and agreed to meet Walter.? “At ten tomorrow morning, Joseph.” Walter waited for his brother’s answer.
Joseph took Melissa by the hand and started to his house. “Tomorrow at ten,” he called out. “But not at Simons. It’s too far to ride. Tomorrow we can talk here, in your house or in mine, or right here in the middle of the street. Not in Simons!” Joseph shouted.
The next day, like the men who worked at Simons Brickyard producing thousands of bricks per day, Walter did not rest. He woke up at four-thirty and could not find sleep again. The meeting with Joseph immediately came to his mind and refused to leave. By five he was dressed and had coffee brewing. Sipping a cup of coffee, he went to his study, opened a large iron box and took out three ledgers in which he recorded the Simons brickyard sales and personal dealings concerning buyers, contractors, employees, and comments on his methods of administration and decisions.
Walter knew every aspect of the machinery, production and human maintenance needed to make a profit at Simons Brickyard, which was fast becoming the largest of the yards owned by the Simons brothers. Aware of the growing potential of the yard, he had decided that he deserved outright ownership. As he perused the ledgers, he concluded that the El Centro property was the basis for another yard like Simons.
He sipped at his coffee and thought of his father and mother, how their house was empty, how Orin Elmer’s rooms were quiet. He searched the walls that surrounded him. He experienced an intense feeling of belonging to those walls, that room, that house. He would not surrender the house or the Simons yard. He felt that he had created and belonged to both places and that both places belonged to him.
Joseph did not wait until ten. He, too, had had a restless night. The images and words of the night before intruded into his sleep. He awoke tired and irritable, moved slowly through the house, and made his way to the kitchen where he prepared a cup of coffee.
As Joseph stepped out the front door, he decided that the Los Angeles, Pasadena, Santa Monica and El Centro brickyards would be his. His mother would have to move to where Walter presently lived, to James’ future house. Joseph would insist on keeping the house which he had built for his son. Walter and Sara could move to the house where Melissa lived, Joseph thought as he made his way across the street.
Joseph did not bother to knock on Walter’s front door. He moved quickly to the study where he found his brother under a warm yellowish light concentrating on a stack of papers. For seconds, Joseph watched Walter read, pick up a page and turn it over onto the pile of papers already reviewed. Suddenly Walter felt a presence which went beyond his brother who stood at the entrance to the study. A decision had been made by both men which meant much more than the possession of material objects. For the sake of family peace they had to settle the ownership of the brickyard and the properties, separate the authority, and break an old bond. Dependence on one another had become a burden which could only be relieved by financial independence.
“Come in. Sit down,” Walter motioned with an open hand to the chair in front of his desk, not the seat at his side. He felt that talking behind the desk, from behind a pile of company documents, created a power position from which he was the stronger and his brother the weaker.
“Well, what are we going to settle?” Joseph leaned forward, placed his forearm on the desk and looked straight at his brother under the light.
Walter decided not to waste time. “It’s time that we work at our own pace, work independently. Do what we want to do and not bother the other. But help the other if and when help is needed.”
“What do you propose?” Joseph responded.
“We should separate. I want the Simons yard, El Centro and this house. You can have the rest. We must operate independently with the understanding that if you or I have difficulty keeping a yard solvent, then the other has the duty of taking over and making the defaultee a full partner of that property only. We must do this to keep our properties within the family, to insure ourselves, to develop at our own pace.” Walter stopped, wondering if Joseph understood. He placed his forearms on the papers, leaned forward and waited in a silence.
“You can’t have the house. Build your own,” Joseph said and smiled.
“I ask for only three properties,” Walter responded with subtle anger in his tone. “Let’s not be unreasonable.”
“Unreasonable! You’re the one who wants to break up the business! Besides, I built this house for my son! And you knew that!” Joseph raised his voice.
“I have kept it up. You haven’t spent a cent on the maintenance or changes which I have made. You never said a word about the changes! The simple fact that I have invested thousands in the house should convince you that it belongs to me,” Walter replied, tight-lipped.
Joseph pushed himself up from the chair. “You’re being stubborn. I told you from the first that the house would be for my son.
“I won’t give it up!” Walter yelled, turned off the lamp and walked over to a window. He drew the curtains open and the sun of the morning after the Fourth of July invaded
the study.
“I was right then,” Joseph said.
“About what?” Walter asked, his back to Joseph, who moved to the doorway.
“I’ll see you in court,” Joseph answered, disheartened.
Walter faced his brother and nodded. “Fine. We’ll talk later,” he answered, feeling that at last they would resolve what had bothered them for years.
The brothers faced each other for a moment. There was no other way. Decisive footsteps on the wooden floor, the front door opening and closing: the sounds dissolved in the morning heat.
By court order, J. R. Allen, accompanied by Joseph and Walter Simons, traveled throughout Southern California photographing every building, machine and animal which the Simons brothers owned. By early 1917, the judge agreed with Joseph Simons’ petitions which requested control of all the properties except the Simons yard. However, Walter wanted ownership of the Simons yard, the El Centro properties, and the Pasadena house and filed an appeal against his brother. Realizing that his brother would not abide by the court decision and wanting to avoid a time-consuming and costly legal dispute, Joseph capitulated to Walter’s demands.
By spring of 1917 Walter Robey Simons had gained complete economic control of the properties he desired. The deed of the house was sent to him by special courier. From the moment Walter accepted the package, the relationship with Joseph had ended and begun anew. On the surface peace had come, but hurt and bitterness remained.
Throughout the court proceedings, Walter never felt any remorse for what some acquaintances described as a terrible, sinful economic betrayal of a brother. If anything, it was the change in Joseph’s relationship with James that deeply hurt Walter.
James became incensed at the loss of his house. He had turned seventeen years old at the time his father decided not to continue to legally fight Walter’s claim to properties. That had long ago, even before his birth.
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