Holidays at Ford's...
Ford's Department Store in the early 60s was the place to go at Christmass time. It was Watsonvilles own version of Macy's. My Mother having come here from San Francisco, shopped there almost exclusively. From the bird filled covered parking to the fancy elevator to the little luncheon bar at the entrance. Watsonville at the time had fancy lighted decorations over each street and Ford's department store featured a set of large lighted figures looking like 18 century singers on their roof. People dressed up when they went to shop. Men wore hats and wemon wore dresses and heals. Ford's caried the latest of most everything from wedding dresses to fine china, beds to washing machines. Going there  to shop at Chirstmass was an event for us and many of our Corralitos neighbors. I remember going in after church. All the ladies and Christmas Corsages. The egg salad sandwiches and cherry coke I ate at the lunch counter, while waiting with my sister for mom to finish shopping. The crowds of folks all dressed up with kids and packages in tow. Christmass music and driving home in the darkness.  We loved counting the decorated trees in the windows of our neighbors along  Blake and Alderage roads.

Latter, in the early 80s . Watsonville needed to replace their old Chistmass decorations, but  oppted not to spend the money.

Santa comes to 1 Blake. 
Christmass in the valley was great. From our vantage point at One Blake we could see right across to the hills on the other side. Right out those big picture windows from the old Southern Pacific Depo. The tree went right in front of them. Not many in those days had outside lighting so it was important to place your tree where all the neighbors could see it. Dad liked to get our tree at the Corn Palace on East Lake. Off we'd go in the old Studibaker, our tie ropes ready. We'd return and wait for Dad to put it in the stand. My parents loved all kinds of music. So the old victrola played Bing Crosby , Swan Lake and Burl Eves while we readied the Bubble lights. Frequent trips to Ford's Department Store were in order and Chistmass Corsages were worn in mass, the larger the better. When I was about 4,  my Dad set up a bear trap by our tree, claiming he'd be sure to catch Santa. Christmas morning as the sun poured thru the big windows , I saw that it was sprung with a boot and a bit of red velvet and white beard.  I burst into tears as my Dad fell over laughing. It took awhile for him to convince me that Santa was all right.

Holloween at Corralitos School, early 60s.
Fall in the valley was always cold. A crispness filled the air. Corralitos school often had ice on the lawns. We readied our costumes as Hollowen approached. The School had a  contest every year and lots of candy was handed out. Store costumes had not really come in yet, so most all were home made. My Mother liked to Win this competition and worked fervently on that old peddle Singer my Dad had electified for Her.  The Childern would line up every year on the lawn between the buildings . Classes were cancelled for the day and Mothers ran after their kids with the rest of their costumes. A tail or tall hat or beard. I remember Lincoln  being  very popular. It was quite a competition. We arrived with our Moms and siblings, costumes in tow, at 9 am.  The Parrade before the judges was at 10 am. Prizes and candy handed out at 11 am. Home by noon. We spent the rest of the day carving our pumpkins and planing our attack for trick or treat. I remember Mother really bundling us up under our costumes to brave a cold Corralitos fall night. I know it seems odd now, but girls were required to wear dresses or skirts to school everyday. This was one day at school when we wore pants under our costumes and we were much warmer.  And yes, my Mother did win many times between the three of us.  A fact that She reveled in for years to come.

Gypsy

Fairy 

Ghosts.
One of my first friends that  I made at school was Crikit Prado. When we were very young, say about 8, I visited her house. It was at the corner of Blake and  Hames rd. The house was like ours in a way. It was old and remodeled to fit a growing family. The property went way back and her father had built a playground for the kids there. It was wonderful, complete with steel slides and a see-saw. We played for hours. One day she took me to the back of the property where her grandma had a little house.  She wasn't allowed in there I think. We went in quietly. The little house was very cool and clean. The furniture was  old fashioned and lace curtains blew softly with the breeze thru the open windows. We went to the back  bedroom. On the dresser laid out neatly were a comb, brush and some bobbie pins. Also three small intracatly woven round straw basket boxes with lids. She paused there and picked up the brush. It had soft very gray hair still in it. She said this is my grandma's . She's an Indian. But she died. We stood quietly in the dim room and looked closely at the fine hairs and woven baskets. Then her mom called dinner and we bolted thru the tiny house out into the sunshine, hopeing not to be seen.

In those days my idea of what an Indian was of course Cowboys and Indians. My only 8 year old reference was what I saw on my 1960s tv.  But this was different. It was real. A real person.  And It was spiritual. I felt that. I mean I felt Crikit's love of her Grandmother. It was very special to feel that. It was sweet and it was sad all at once.

Close Neighbors.
The Hedgpeths lived over the little hill that meanders off the corner of Blake and Aldridge roads. Running along the orchard, their driveway ended below their house. They were teachers or Educators as they would say. Ann and Edward were an older couple from the east coast. They had two older sons Eddy and Rolly and also a late baby girl, Ann Marie. She was my older sisters age and they were best friends. I was about 4 or 5 then. Their home was my first experience with real art and antiques. It was filled with it and the smell of French cooking permeated the air. Ann was a college girl and worked out side the home. She bore a resemblance to Julia Child and drove a Volvo. She stopped by our house at One Blake rd. at least once a week and She and my Mother would engage in the local gossip and the politics of the day. I can still hear that noisey old Vovo coming up the driveway.

The Princess rides a beautifull Horse.
There were so many interesting folks I grew up around in Corralitos. One such person was Mrs. Bonnima. Living up on the hill behind us, She was a bit of a mystery then. I think these days you might call her a feminist. She worked, kept horses, had a husband who raced cars and a pack of children to boot. She was a tall woman with a Kardashian figure. On weekends you could hear her husband working on his race car. Occasionly one of her horses got away and She would set out after it on yet another horse, galloping down Alderage lane at top speed. My Father would say that she cut a fine figure of a woman on that animal. Oddly, every male in the neighborhood came out of their house to catch a glimpse of this occurance.
Like Dad said, Mrs. Bonnima cut a fine figure of a woman.

A Baby Bommer comes home.
In the late summer  of 1954, I was born in the old Dominican Hospital.  It still stands as an Historic Building  on Soquel and Branciforte.
I came home from  my birth to Corralitos . My Mom at the time suffered with post partum. It was kept quiet, and I was shipped down the street to number 9 Blake. Put into the care of empty nesters Evey and Butch Peterson . My memories of Her are warm and loving. I spent my weekdays in a playpen in her living room where I watched early tv. What's my line, To tell the truth and Queen for a day.
My Dad got ready for work early. Up at  5  out by 6, across the neighbors lawn, diaper bag on one shoulder and me on the other. He was 48 and had just stopped smoking,  I remember him breathing hard as he made the trek.  I think I was in her care for almost 2 years.


Check out the Old Dominican Hospital.
Branciforte Plaza on Soquel and Branciforte. .
The building is small for a hospital. It has a Mediterranean look to it. The old elevator  still functions.  It's hard to imagine a busy hospital  and even Nuns complete with Habits as nurses.  I'm so glad it was saved  from the wrecking ball.


A Habit is the clothing garment a Nun wears.

Early Recycler. 

  View of valley from front lawn.  

So many things about that house were unusual.  The big picture windows in the front were from the old Southern Pacific Depo in Watsonville. All the windows were recycled. Some were sash and others were dropped open with a short chain. He built closests into each of the bedrooms and the foundation was in fact, rail road ties he leavered under the  building.  When a local nursery closed, Dad made a deal on rose bushes and lined the front lawn with  them.  There was the brick walkway, all recycled from a Victorian torn down localy . And that  front door, an old Dutch door, was open  all summer long. I think he had every tool known to man, and his electric saw it seemed, hummed  every day.


Just a note :  Those Railroad ties he had used for a foundation were it's ultimate  demise , as the house jumped off of them during the 89 quake and had to be demolished. Thank God Mom sold it in 86.

View of from fount lawn. That's me, my Sister Gretchen and Grandma Holms.

Old Dutch door

Buying the dream.
Withen a few years, my father bought the house from his neighbor, Mrs. Pruden. It was  around 1950 then and she carried the loan. He paid a total of three thousand  four hundred dollars, when all was said and done.  He was an older man then and the depression was fresh in his mind. He was determined  to own it. At the time it was just a long building, made of metal. He added two bedrooms and extended the livng room. He had my half sister, about ten, and my middle sister about two. And me, I was still in the planing stages then.

Corralitos...Late 1950s. 
In those days, the Valley was much less populated. Maybe thirteen or fourteen houses on Blake rd. There was no garbage pick up, but milk was delivered daily. The milk man wore a tie and dressed in a white uniform. And by the late fifties it was popular to order the Humpty Dumpty  Diaper service for young mothers. They came down Blake road in a tune playing truck with a picture of Humpty on the side. I remember it being very cold, even icey  in winter .  And in summer,  lazy and warm. Bee's buzzing away in the nearby orchards.
Which brings to mind another post war  incarnation, the crop duster. Liberally  dumping God knows what on the nearby feilds.  Diving and dipping  and roaring along  the tree tops.  It was a very good time to grow up in Corralitos.

The house at One Blake road.

It was early in the 1950's when my father Bob Briley came and rented the house . It was originally a wartime storage building,  bought off the docks in the Bay Area. Converted to post war houseing , it sat back off the lane at Blake and Alderidge. He worked at the Southern Pacific Railroad out of Watsonville. He got himself transferred here when he and mother suffered the loss of their first child in San Fancisco. Dr. told him, get her pregnant and move her well out of the city. Corralitos was far from their heart break. and breathtakingly beautiful.