It was the dangerous summer of 1944 when within a few weeks of each other three Mexican American sisters, Maria, Virginia and Elisa each gave birth to a son. The war in the Pacific was entering its last and most savage year and two of the older brothers, Juan and Jose, hadn't been heard from since the fall of Bataan in 1942. Two other brothers were in the service of a different sort: Arturo was Fr Felipe, OFM and Ramon was to become Fr. Leon, OFM, both in the Province of Santa Barbara.
We three war baby cousins, Louis, Joe and I had decided rather early in our young lives on our future career pursuits. Louis would be a farmer like his father's family in the Imperial Valley. Joe had a somewhat more glamorous vision, and his dreams were entrepreneurial. He saw prospects in Las Vegas before anyone else (with the possible exception of Bugsy Siegal). I was to be a priest. It seemed reasonable -- didn't every family have a priest or two? Franciscan blood ran deep in the Baldonado family. It was more or less expected. I even bore the name of a locally famous Franciscan, Fr Albert Braun, OFM, missionary to the Mescalero Apaches. The stars were aligned.
So it was that I was ushered by none other than Fr Albert into SAS in September, 1958, with my best friend, Pat Gorman. It would begin a fascinating and formative time, one which I truly believe was one of the most valuable in my life. Talk about learning to live in community and to negotiate the often testy social commerce that attends young male adolescent growth! Hardly a day goes by that I don't appreciate afresh all those lessons learned. And, strange as it seems, I remember names and faces from that time, albeit the faces have remained forever young. Our teachers were Fathers Neil, Martin, Peter, Ralph, Thomas, Hilary, Nevin, Severin, Marvin, Alberic, Warren and Manuel. Don't ask me to recite the names of my college and post graduate teachers. My laundry number was 46, and my job, admittedly one of the cushier ones, was barber. Only downside was that the barber shop was located hard by the basement jakes -- tough duty after cornbread breakfast.
Best memories? St Francis Day (food was wonderful). Choir performances, especially for Christmas and Easter. Track Day. I loved to run. Hiking to the peak of La Cumbre. Beach days -- when we might get a glimpse of female bodies in bathing suits (also family visitation days for same general object). Stage productions (lots of work and surprisingly good -- believe I had a role in our class play adaptation of Arsenic and Old Lace). Sports -- all sports: Titans, Vikings and Lancers (special feeling for the Lancers who I captained for a brief shining time in fall 1961 along with Bill Easton (Titans) and Pat Gorman (Vikings).
Baldonado blood. During my time there were three Baldonado relatives at SAS. A cousin twice removed whom I knew hardly at all was Horacio Acuna, an upper classman, and David Baldonado, an under classman first cousin. Of course, our class caste system was such that social intercourse outside the tribe, Gladiators, in my case, was awkward. So the cousins might as well have been from Mars. Of course, Uncle Fr Felipe was the exception for whom no such prohibitions existed. His brother, Uncle Ramon, had left the Order and was laicized prior to my time in seminary.
Academically I did OK, enough so that when I graduated from St Pius X High School after only three months there I walked off with a classical honors diploma. That is to say, Fr Peter, Fr Nevin and several others earned the classical honors, and I went along for the ride. Those fine teachers provided a foundation in language, science, the arts and literature that have paid dividends throughout my life. I owe them big time.
I was dismissed in December 1961. It came as a shock but I had already tentatively concluded that I would not pursue the religious vocation after high school. Oddly, Pat Gorman and I were both "kicked out" at the same time. Weird symmetry there. We've both gone on and raised families. Pat got his Phd and had a career in academia; I went for the JD and am now a retired lawyer.
By the way, Jose and Juan survived 4 years in Japanese prisons and came home in 1945. David Baldonado is Jose's son. I don't know about Horacio. Cousin Louis ended up in the hardware business and cousin Joe has bounced from one venture to another. He never got to own a casino. Fr Albert died many years ago in Phoenix and Fr Felipe died several years ago. He is interred at OMSB. And of the three girls who had those boys in 1944, only Elisa survives. She's my Mom.
Al Dawson - SAS '62