Remembering My Childhood (Cecelia Coronado) - Part Two

(This is the second in a series of posts based on audio recordings made by my mother, Cecelia Coronado Phipps in 1983.)

Mama and Papa started out very poor, with a very small little place.  When they were first married, they lived at the Blue Rock Springs.  Mrs. Madrid was my father's sister.  Mr. Manual Madrid was my mother's cousin.  Angela and Manual Madrid lived at and owned the Blue Rock Springs, which was farther out toward the hills, which had natural mineral waters.  That's where Mama and Papa lived when they were first married.  I believe that Dolph was born there.  Marianita was also born there.  She later died at the age of 10[1]. ... Mama always said that she was just too perfect to live.  She was such a beautiful child and just perfect in every way.  She never gave her one minute’s problem or worry. ... They never got over the loss of this one little girl even though they lost two little boys. ...

They wanted to get away and live on their own, so they came ... and bought this 3-5 acres of property bordering the road that is now the Napa Highway.  At that time it was just a path from Vallejo to Napa.

They started out on a very small scale, with a little bar where he sold beer – 5 cent beer and Mama made big kettles of chili beans.  You got a 5 cent beer, you got a bowl of chili beans if you wanted. ... They eventually enlarged the house, very gradually, of course, and added other rooms downstairs and enlarged the bar.  They eventually made six bedrooms upstairs.

The Beanery with living quarters on the second floor

Mama was pregnant with Frankie in September[2].  In those days it never did rain in California in September.  But this year it did.  Papa was building the upstairs and the skies opened up and it stormed on poor Mama.  She recalls walking around in water, I don't know how deep, and trying to take care of all the children.  Here she was expecting Frank, expecting the baby.  The next day she gave birth to brother Frank.  The doctor came.  All her babies were born at home.  The doctor came and said that he can't possibly live.  "I'll come by in the morning but he can't possibly live."  Only God knows what Mama did. She prayed over him.  She got her little tiny lamp that I still have.  All her prayers were answered, because in the morning when the doctor arrived, he said, "I can't believe it. It's just like a miracle."  He was premature, a "preemie", and in those days what could they do for a "preemie"?  He was healthy enough, but he just didn't grow.  His little legs were shorter than they might have been otherwise, but he had the build of Papa.  He had good broad shoulders, a good build, but his legs were shorter – not stunted at all, but he was just short. ...

They did get these six bedrooms built upstairs. ... I remember so well, going upstairs where Dolph had his bedroom.  He would go to town the night before.  He went out a lot and had many friends.  He would bring back a whole big sack of bananas.  I knew that I could go up to his bedroom in the morning and knock on the door.  He would say "Come in" and he would have this big sack of bananas for me.  Well, I eventually got the nickname of "Nanas", because I loved them so.  But I was so tiny and I had to go down this great long staircase, about 25 or 30 steps down this long staircase.  My brothers, Doc, Frank and Paul, would be jumping around me and poking holes through the bag. They would have most of the bananas by the time I had gotten down to the main floor.  But I was happy to have whatever I could get.  This hap­pened very often and this is one of the very nice things he always did for me.

Dutch had one of the front bedrooms.  Dutch got his name because when he was little he had curly hair and his hair was brown, instead of black like all the rest of the kids.  So they said that he looks like a little Dutchman.  I don't know who said this, but that nickname stuck with him. ...

Louise had a bedroom.  Louise became a nurse.  Dutch got her a job at the hospital where he also met his future wife, Ione.  Louise met her future husband and left home very early.  So we never saw her very much.  She lived in town but we just did not see too much of her.  She didn't cling to the family like all the rest of us did and didn't come home as often. ...

Now comes Jimmy.  Jimmy was a terrific brother. He was quiet and gentle, but had a good sense of humor too.  He was the photographer in our family.  He was always taking pictures.  If he hadn't done that, we would not have the many pictures that we enjoy to this day – of the old cars, the family reunions, the family get-togethers on Sundays for dinners. ... He met and married the first girl he ever went with.  He worked for one of the bakeries in Vallejo and he ran a delivery truck. ...

Facing the front and all around the corner of our property, Papa had planted a Cyprus hedge, which made it very private, even though it faced the main road at that time.  There was a picket fence right by the garden gate and next to it was our front porch, which led into the parlor.  Inside this little picket fence gate was a huge grapefruit tree, that was very tall and went above the second story bedroom, which my sister Marian, affectionately known as "Tootsie", and I shared.  She had a habit of walking in her sleep.  Sometimes I would awaken and find her going out the window.  Well there was little place that we used to play dolls out there on a little lean-to, but the fact seeing her going out in her sleep was more than I could handle.  However, instead of catering to her, I would scold her and I'd say, "Tootsie! You get right back in here!"  And she would mind.  Normally she wouldn't under normal circumstances, but she would[3].  Those were kind of frightening experiences for me.  We shared this bedroom all through our school years.  We would enjoy getting out there in the daytime to play with our dolls and pick some grapefruit.  They were huge things – very good and juicy. We had lemons too in the yard.

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[1] Actually Marianita died at age 5.

[2] September 1900.

[3] Toots gave her version of this story in a conversation with John Coronado in 1994: “She said that there were times when she would fake the sleep walking.  She would put a sheet over her head and get up and start walking around.  When Cecelia would take her arm and lead her back to bed, she would pull the sheet off and scream at Cecelia to scare the dickens out of her.”