Picking prunes at the Coyote Ranch, circa 1938, by Margaret Dambley

This information was given to me by Aunt Antoinette, a few years ago.

Papa got a job in a Coyote Ranch for the family to pick plums, which the family always referred to as picking prunes. The owner of the ranch liked Papa and his family, who he said were hard workers, so he hired them every year. When it came time to go to the ranch, Papa’s truck was packed with blankets, pillows, clothes, kitchen supplies, food, and possibly, a little wine for Papa. With Papa and Mama Concha riding in the front seat, the rest of the family piled into the truck and survived the 50 miles or so to Coyote.

The “Coyote Hilton”, the former chicken coop where 
the Vigallons stayed while picking plums

The shack that the family lived in was formerly a chicken coop. The owner cleaned it up and built bunks for the family to sleep in, though some of the younger ones slept over blankets that were laid on the floor at night. There was no electricity or running water in the shack. They used kerosene lamps for lighting and there was an outhouse fairly close to the shack. And next to the shack was a water pump over a trough where they could wash up.

Now, when we were kids, Aunt Marie and Uncle Johnny were my playmates and every summer when they left for the ranch I wanted to go with them. Well, one summer when I was about 8 or 9 years old, Mama Concha talked my parents into letting me go there for one week. This is what I recall of that week:

Mama Concha and Rosaline top, c1927
Marie, John and Margaret at left, 1933

Mama Concha got us up very early every morning. We would go outside, wash up at the water pump, have breakfast, then we would grab a bucket and pile into Papa’s truck and head out to pick the plums. Papa’s job was to shake the limbs of the trees so that the plums could fall to the ground. He had a long pole with a hook at the end of it and that’s how he was able to reach the tree limbs, although sometimes he had to use a stepladder to reach the top of the tree. When he was through shaking the limbs and tree, we got on our hands and knees and picked enough plums to fill the bucket, and then dump it into a wooden box which when enough boxes were filled, Papa put them in the truck and took them back near the shack. His next job was to put them on a large wooden sheet to dry out in the sun, and into prunes. I don’t know what the next process was to aid in drying them.

Around noon, Mama Concha would come to where we were working, pulling a wooden wagon, with freshly made tortas, wrapped in a large white cloth and tied in a knot to keep them warm. There was peanut butter and jam to spread on the tortas. Aunt Marie and I liked the peanut butter but Uncle Johnny loved it and spread plenty of it on the tortas.

The days were long, and we would get tired, but we put a little fun into it as we worked. Marie and I talked constantly and other times we would sing popular songs, which Aunt Emily and Aunt Antoinette would join in, singing with us. Plus, we sang Spanish songs and when we sang Hawaiian songs, Aunt Marie would get up off the ground and dance the hula. That always gave us a few laughs.

At the end of the work day, we would take our empty buckets and pile into the truck and head for the shack. I had a lot of fun with the family that week, and after they got back home, Mama Concha gave Aunt Marie and I matching raincoats that we could wear to school that winter.

Is that the free enterprise system that you talk so much about? (by John L. Castro)

This letter was written by my grandfather John in 1980. There is a hand-written preface: I am proud, this is my masterpiece. Please read it and return it to me. I want to put it in my safe deposit box for my great grand-children to read after I am gone. 

No insult to both of you but these are my reasons why I can't vote for a Republican. They have hurt me too much.

He typed on this old green-gray manual typewriter in the spare bedroom. I remember hearing that he wrote many letters to the editor of his local newspaper (which I will also publish here), but I never knew about this letter until this week. It's quite remarkable. This is a man whose parents left Spain in 1907 to work in the sugar plantations in Hawaii and then saved enough money to move to California in 1920. My grandfather was kind and honest and hardworking, a perennial entrepreneur, working long hours and then using his earnings to invest in a lumber yard, a cement company, a gas station, and finally a country-western bar where Johnny Cash played in the late 50's. But he never talked politics with us kids, so this letter for us is a kind of revelation, and a glimpse into his mind. How I miss him!

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Ever wondered what a Castro is?

A friend of mine just visited Galicia and when she told me about her trip, she said she visited the arqueological ruins of a Castro, a fortified hill which is the origin of our name (I guess it's like having Castle as your surname). I've never seen one in person so I asked her to send pictures. She says upwards of 200 people might have lived in the Castro de Viladonga shown below.... This photo that my friend took is beautiful, but don't miss the video on the front page of the Castro de Viladonga Museum website.

For the record, I have not yet found the link between our Castros, who were actually from arid, harsh, classically Andalusian Estepa, in the province of Sevilla, and Galicia, which is that chunk of Spain that is north of Portugal, and a completely different kind of country, green and mountainous, and where the name Castro is traditionally from. There are many famous Galician Castros, perhaps the most famous of them all is Rosalía de Castro, a poet. 

I have been to Galicia many times and have always felt connected there. One of these days, if I can get into the archives at Estepa, I am sure I will find the links that connect our family with that country.

Early Villalóns in Antequera

One of the things that I mentioned in my Vigallon Familly History zoom chat the other day was that I just recently discovered that the Antequera Municipal Archives have begun to digitize a lot of their collection. This includes Family histories, Parish files (including birth, baptism, death and marriage records recorded by the Church) and much more. If you read the description of the Parrish Collection (Fondos Parroquiales), it says this (with a quick translation):

The first Church to be founded in the city was that of San Salvador on October 10, 1410 in the mosque of the Medina, being blessed by Don Lope de Mendoza, Archbishop of Santiago who also celebrated the first mass. It didn't take long for it to become a Parish, since on February 16, 1411 Don Alfonso of Pastrana, perpetual administrator of the Holy Church of Seville, with consent of the dean and council of said Church, ordered the erection of three parishes in Antequera, one in the castle in the church of San Salvador and two in the town, in the churches to be built under the dedications of San Isidro Labrador and Santa María de la Esperanza. Chronologically the next parish founded in the city was that of San Juan Bautista, which already existed at the beginning of the 16th century in the neighborhood of the same name. In 1512, there is evidence of the existence of the parish church of San Sebastián and a few years later on October 20, 1518, Bartolomé de Baena blesses the new church and parish of San Pedro built at the expense of the knights Don Esteban de Villalón and his son Don Cristóbal de Villalón. 

These parishes will remain until the year 1667, when Fray Alonso de Santo Tomas suppresses the primitive parishes of San Salvador and San Isidro Labrador, due to the depopulation that the area of ​​their jurisdiction. Regardless of whether the documentation and rights pass to the parishes of Santa María and San Juan Bautista, their respective holy brotherhoods are then located in the hermitages of San Miguel Arcángel and Santiago, which over time will become parishes, to wit in 1822, and which make up the structure that has survived to this day.

The San Pedro church is where Mama Concha (Concepción Aguilar Muñoz) was baptized, just a few blocks from the Pensión Toril where she was born.  

I traced our Villalóns back to about 1640, and didn't go further back because I didn't have time to do it! So it's not a stretch to imagine that the connection exists with those first Villalóns in Antequera who founded San Pedro.

After a glance at the Family Histories Collection, I see there are files on the Aguilar and Muñoz (Mama Concha's surnames), so there's a whole other history to discover! 

Vigallon Family History Zoom chat

Last Saturday, October 11, thanks to the organizing efforts of Doreen and Randy, I presented some of the information that I have gathered about how our family emigrated from Spain, first to Hawaii and then to  California. It was really fun to put together all the information I have, and even though I always have the feeling that I'm leaving out lots of important stuff, at least this is a start. You can see it here:

Dear Family:

I just happened upon an exposition organized by the Spanish Government about Spaniards in the United States and Puerto Rico from 1880 until today and thought you might like to see it too. There are a number of old photographs that reminded me of our own family, and they included the poster about Hawaii that I shared with you several years ago.

And although there's not much more about us and our particular Spanish Family, I still thought you'd find it interesting, especially the ones of the dancing, that remind me a lot of the pictures my Dad has shown me from the Spanish Club in San Leandro.

There's a physical exposition that you can go to, currently in Miami, at 1400 Biscayne Boulevard. I'm not sure where it goes next. Or you can view at least part of it online.

Hope you all are well. Anyone got a good story to tell? :)

Jennifer

We thought of you today, but that was nothing new.
We thought about you yesterday and days before that too.
We think of you in silence, we often speak your name.
All we have are memories and a picture in a frame.
Your memory is a keepsake from which we will never part.
God has you in His arms, we have you in our hearts.
Even though it has only been a year,
It seems so long yet so short with out you
We love you always and we will miss you forever.

Until our Spanish family is all together again,

Love you horn, Dad

Bobby Castro

Yesterday was a day that I will remember. Bobby died. He was such a positive man. As he said to me about six weeks ago. I have lived a good life. Connie and I have been married for 44 years. I have two children and one grand-child. Who could ask for more.

For me he was and will always be very special to me. Mike, Bob, Tony and I spent a lot of time together. We played games, trains and so much more. We had a fireworks stand for a couple of years. We went on dates. Nothing stopped us. Stairs never got in our way.

I will miss his phone calls. He always said the same intro. "How are you doing big John". We would talk for hours.

I will remember the week-end that Bobby, Tony and I spent together. Life is so interesting. We all know that we do not live forever. But, we never want it to come.

I have lost a very special friend, oh yes he was my cousin, but so much more.

Little Johnny