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Chapter 34: Raymond and CarmenHealthy fear of Mama kept us right on track
The Arizona Daily Star My brother Raymond and I toed the line at least early in our lives. We had the nuns and priests at St. John's instilling the fear of God in us. More important, we had the fear of Mama. I hope I haven't given you the impression that Mama is some kind of softie who just oozes love all the time. Mama was strict, and Mama was tough. She kept on top of all our moves, and we have all felt her strap on occasion. Raymond was an altar boy, whose idea of a wild time was sipping the altar wine. "Bobby Gastellum and I used to fill up the cruets with water and wine. We used to take a swig every Sunday morning. Of course, this was without Father knowing, otherwise we would have been kicked out from the program," says Raymond. During the week, we went to Mass every day before school. Mama believed in spiritual nourishment. the Sisters of Charity, who operated the school, and the Holy Ghost Fathers, who ran the parish, made sure we got it. Raymond listened. "I just let the Lord work on my mind. As I grew older, I think that's what really helped me out. The way Jesus handled certain things was really remarkable to me," says Raymond. After Sunday Mass, when we were young, Raymond usually took off with Bobby and his cousin, Eddie León, to their grandparents. Francisco and Angelita León, who owned the rental where we lived, worked for grower Dan Clark. They took care of a farm just south of West Ajo Way, west of the river where cotton production halted and hay production began. "Grandma and Grandpa León accepted me as one of their grandsons. We used to go play on the hay, sell hay, shoot pigeons, go fishing at their pond, drive the tractor, and do whatever was needed around the farm. I worked for Grandpa León and he would pay me," Raymond says. In 1970, Raymond was in 10th grade at Pueblo High and stopped serving as an altar boy. That same year he also stopped working at the Dairy Queen and for the next two summers he and Gabriel Barreda went to work in California. They lived with Gabe's sister in Huntington Beach, and Raymond worked to earn money to buy his school clothes. His experience hoeing weeds in the cotton fields became useful in cleaning yards for wealthy families. Raymond also had fun. The summer before he began his senior year, Raymond worked at a Mobil service station on West Congress Street, just east of Interstate 10. He watched the interstate truckers pulling on and off the freeway. He would become one of them eventually. He hadn't thought about college because he wanted to join the Marines after graduation and fight in Vietnam. But the war was winding down when he graduated. For myself, I didn't go away to work. I didn't go away, period. Mama kept me at home. "Mama, don't you trust me?" I'd ask. "I know how to be good." She'd always reply, "I trust you. But it's others that I don't trust. You see, the devil never sleeps." I couldn't figure out what she meant by that when I was a young girl. Now, after years as crime reporter for the Star, I catch myself using that line when I talk to my nieces. I always had to be home at the exact time she set, or I'd be punished. When it came to school activities, Mama was super liberal, but we had to stay up with our homework. At St. John's, I was involved in volleyball and softball. In 1970, as a freshman at Pueblo High, it took me time to get used to going to a public school.
No more uniform, no more daily Mass, no more prayers in first period, and no more standing in line and filing into a classroom quietly. I continued working at St. John's rectory on Saturdays until the summer before I started my junior year. Jane Otten and I went to work at der Weinerschnitzel on South Sixth Avenue. Except for the guy who tried to rob me at knifepoint one night, it was a pretty good job. I was set to graduate from Pueblo High in 1974 with pretty good clerical skills. I wasn't thinking of college until Ralph Chavez, the founder of Pima Community College's journalism program, spoke to my journalism class about the need to integrate newsrooms. He also mentioned there might be scholarships available. I told Mama. College wasn't even a thought to her, not something we could afford. But a scholarship? "What do you have to lose?" said Mama. I prayed to God and the santos to protect me and guide me. Mama prayed and lighted countless candles. I went to Pima where I worked for the Aztec Campus News. My love for journalism grew. In the summers, I worked for the Summer Jobs for Youth program and did clerical work at the Veterans Affairs hospital. I graduated from Pima in 1976 and stopped going to school so I could work and save up money for a car and tuition at the University of Arizona. I saved; Mama continued to clean motel rooms and pray. And she gambled. She won a $1,000 bingo jackpot at Sacred Heart Church. That helped me buy my first car and begin at the UA in 1978. I received small scholarships from The Arizona Daily Star and the Tucson Press Club. I earned money while in college by working for Arizona Catholic Lifetime, the newspaper formerly published by the Roman Catholic Diocese of Tucson. When I graduated from the UA in December 1980, I began an internship at the Star On 1981 I was hired here full-time. I was a real newspaper reporter, but I didn't feel like one immediately.
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Ch. 1: Field of death
Ch. 18: The New Deal
Ch. 24: Cotton pickers and copper miners Ch. 27: The family doubles its size
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