3.02 Orange Groves and Crackerboxes

Late 1950s – early 1960s • La Habra ~ In 1956, Orange County, once acre-after-acre of orange and lemon groves, was transformed into row-after-row of identical single-story crackerbox houses sold on the GI Bill to young families with lots of kids. Chuck and Carleen bought one in 1957 for $12,950: a brand new, four-bedroom, two-bath 1,165 square-foot cream-colored yellow-trimmed stucco tract home on East Verdugo Avenue. The kitchen wasn’t much more than a long, narrow galley, the master bedroom so small our butts bounced off the walls and dresser when we made the king-sized bed.

Cathy, Carleen, Debbie, Sep 1958, house on E Verdugo Ave

I now lived in one house and had my own bedroom. There was a gleaming Amana filled with food, homemade chocolate birthday cakes with candles, and real Christmas trees. Ornaments and tinsel and presents were newly wrapped around my life. There was a family who was there when I got home from school, went to bed at night, and woke up in the morning. We ate dinner together, watched television, and went camping. We pulled weeds and cleaned house. We baked cookies and made ice cream. We watched Saturday cartoons in our underwear and read the Sunday funnies in our pajamas.

There were overnights with my friend Frances who lived across the street and hamburger barbecues with Rudy and Carmen next door. There was camping with Wayne (Chuck’s cousin) and Joan and their kids at Lake Arrowhead. Once a Coleman lantern exploded in Wayne’s face as he was leaning in to light it. All of us were sitting around the picnic table as the sun was setting. The cigarette in his mouth ignited the leaking fuel and a ball of flame exploded. Wayne was badly burned, his hair singed and face scorched by the fireball. Chuck and Joan ran him to the nearest hospital where they cut off his melted shirt. His face had to stay wrapped in white gauze for a long time. I’d never seen anyone hurt before, and I was horrified. I thought back to how lucky I’d been every time I tried to light the kitchen stove when I lived with Mother and thought to myself, “see, I knew it was dangerous!” Chuck, who saved everything, was furious when Carleen gave away all his Coleman lanterns shortly after the accident. Her response, “too goddam bad.”

Debbie, Randy, Cathy, Knott’s Berry Farm, Mar 1959

Carleen took us to Huntington Beach, the Brea Library, and drive-in movies with Randy hidden under a blanket on the floor of the back seat so it was cheaper. We swam at Wayne and Joan’s in the summer and went to the Corn Festival and County Fair in the fall. We went to Knott’s Berry Farm and Disneyland. Disneyland was huge, clean with not so much as a piece of litter in sight, and had crowds standing in lines for the rides. The King Arthur Carousel and Peter Pan’s Flight were fun, but not the Mad Tea Party. I don’t like rides that spin or jerk; they make me sick. I liked Knott’s Berry Farm better; nothing spun and it was cozier and far less crowded.

Randy, Marian, Deb, Cath, Carleen Bobby, Claudia, unkn, Sherry in stroller; Mar 1959, Knott’s Berry Farm

Carleen, Dad, Cathy, Randy Debbie, Lisa, Jul 1960, La Habra

We had visits from Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy. Dad drove down from San Francisco a couple of times a year. My brother, sisters and their families (there were fourteen children born between 1953 and 1967) all visited, along with Chuck’s family, and often Mom too, who tended to overstay her welcome. Chuck worked swing or nights and he’d call home to see if she was still there; if she was, he’d tell Carleen to tell Mom that she needed to be gone before he got home. Everyone was there at one time or another for Easter brunches, Thanksgiving turkey, and Christmas holidays, for baptisms and birthday cakes, for card games and Cuba Libras. After living in a house alone with Mom, with times of unbroken silence and no one to talk to, it could get overwhelming. I don’t know that I ever got used to it. When it got too crowded and noisy or there was too much excitement, I disappeared into my room with a book. When my stress level increased beyond my ability to cope, I’d get sick and end up in bed, usually during holidays. It felt safer than trying to grapple with all that went on. 

Larry, Tony, Carleen, Debbie, Cathy, Chuck, Claudia, Mom, Betty, Dec 1958

to be continued…

© 2018. Catherine Sevenau.
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