Santa Paula (Click most images for larger versions.)
At some point, though I'm not sure when, I began calling Bud, Bob.
I guess we both agreed that "Bud" sounded too immature for the man Bob had become. At any rate, together, Bob and I set out to create our new life in Santa Paula.
Our flat was on the second floor of the Bowman Apartments. They're gone now, but the shop building is still there—I think its address is 610 Main Street—and the fact that it was only two lots West of the apartments turned out to be a blessing. For Bob hooked up the door of the shop to a bell in the apartment so that it would ring whenever someone entered. After that, he'd come home and we'd eat lunch together without having to close the store. When the bell rang, I can still remember him grabbing his napkin and running down the stairs, two at a time, excited over the prospect of a new customer.
Looking back, it all seemed to fall into place. Everything came easily. The serendipity that directed us there continued. People were friendly and more accepting of our "difference" than our poor experiences in Los Angeles had led us to expect—an initial lesson in the blessings of a small town. In hindsight, we didn't know it, but we were doing all the right things.
I acted as Bob's secretary, and his shopkeeper whenever he was out on calls. I also wrote a weekly column called "Static" for the local newspaper. It would just be a story about Bob's background in radio, or what he was doing that week, or what was for sale in the shop, and at Christmas time I would include one of my cookie recipes. I didn't think much about it, but so many people told me they read it that I think it really helped Bob become better known. Of course, the "funky" ads we ran in the newspaper helped, too. Bob especially liked ads with some sense of humor, like, "Jack of all trades. Master of none," or "One Genius to Serve You."
Although I did things that came naturally to me, they seemed to get noticed. It might have been due to my East Coast upbringing but, for whatever reason, it helped. For instance, Bob and I joined several local clubs, and one was the 20-30 Club, an organization for young business men between twenty and thirty years of age. At one of their costume parties I dressed up as a fortune teller and had them in stitches with my silly predictions. It was all in fun, but then there was a big writeup in the paper and people remembered who I was.
We also tended to do things we were interested in. Bob loved target shooting, so he joined the local pistol club. He got so good at it that he won national championships, but more important, he made lots of friends. He also belonged to the local chess club, and shot snooker with an informal group of noontime players at the local pool hall.
Bob also became a member of a radio repairmen's association. It was county-wide and met once a month. Everyone was friendly and helpful, but there was one man who refused to join the association. He was from Santa Paula, too, but considered himself the "original" repairman—he had been there first. So, he resented the formation of the group along with all its Johnny-come-latelies, especially Bob. He began a rumor in town that Bob was an alcoholic and went on service calls drunk.
The first we heard of it was when one of the other members said to Bob, "I've known you for a while now and I've never seen you take a drink." When Bob explained that he was a teetotaler, the man told Bob what the other guy was saying. After that, we made sure everyone knew that Bob was a teetotaler, but the acrimony from the "original" repairman continued. Even his wife had it in for us.
While Bob was joining his clubs, I joined a few of my own. There were the Business, and Professional Women's Club, among others, plus the Ebell Club invited me to join. Unfortunately, the wife of the "original" repairman also belonged to these clubs. She was snooty and looked down on me, never missing a chance to make me feel small. But, then I started writing the clubs' press releases, which received great coverage in the local newspaper. Well, once that started happening, all women would tell me, "Boy, you're the best." After that, the snob didn't hold as much sway with the other members and life grew easier.
Another activity of the Ebell Club was what they called a Player's Group. It was a group of amateur actors who would put on small productions on the Club's stage. Once I became a member, I volunteered to be the prop manager. Then I convinced Bob to take charge of the lighting, electricity and sound. It was another thing that came naturally, considering Bob's background, but worked so well in advertising Bob's skills.
Every summer Santa Paula had its Citrus Festival, a weekend of parades and small attractions and a rodeo. It was traditional to wear a costume, and I remember how much fun it was to make what I called a "farmer's" dress to wear for the Festival. I especially recall the summer Bob dressed up as a real hick farmer and we traipsed through the crowds together. You never knew where or how you might make a friend.
One woman liked me for my shoes! She became a life long friend, but we might never have met if it weren't for the stylish New York shoes I wore to church one day.
It was after the service, and we were mingling in front of the church when a stranger walked up to me and said, "I've been admiring your shoes. Where did you get them?" I explained that I'd purchased them in New York. After she got over her disappointment, we just hit it off. Her name was, Ida Outland, and over the years we did so much together. Not just us, but our entire families. All over a pair of shoes.
Of course, once our children started growing up, I served on PTA boards and as room mothers. I became a leader for Blue Birds and Campfire Girls. I did all the normal things you do when you have children and you want to make sure things are good for them.
Oh, yes, I must not forget the movies! Through all the years, the movies stayed a close friend and entertainment. No matter how hard the day was, it would all wash away once the lights dimmed. When the children were small I couldn't go as much, but just knowing that Santa Paula had movies helped. I could be agonizing over unpaid bills when suddenly I would remember that a movie I wanted to see was showing that night. A little pleasure to get me through the day; but oh how I hated collecting unpaid bills.
Usually, customers would pay at the time of purchase or service, but some, especially the citrus ranchers who had seasonal incomes, would pay in installments. I would send bills every month and most would pay, but there were always those who didn't, who would constantly procrastinate in paying, and they were invariably the same ones. I didn't like having to send late notices, much less, going to their homes to collect overdue bills. But, I did it and earned a reputation for sticking up for Bob.
It made me mad. I felt that it was unfair. Bob was honest and always did his best, so I felt that we didn't need the people who couldn't appreciate that. For instance, I remember one woman who would always complain about her service trying to get a break on her bill. Finally, one day she came into the shop bellyaching about something or other and I told her, "Well, if you feel that way, why do you bother coming here? Why do you have my husband work for you?" I was fed up, and I didn't think we needed the aggravation. I don't know whether I did the right, but I felt better.
I remember another time when I used the kids to get a wealthy rancher to pay a very large overdue bill. We needed the money badly, and I was tired of sending bills that some people never paid. So, I packed all the kids in the car and drove up to his front door. I stomped up and rang the bell. When he answered, I presented him with the bill. He took one look at my face, another at the car load of kids, and wrote a check on the spot for the full amount.
I think people learned to respect our industriousness and forthrightness. In any event, we did well in Santa Paula and prospered. It was beginning to feel like home, despite my occasional bouts of home sickness. My first bout took place in the Spring just following our arrival.
I missed home so badly that Bob let me leave for New York via a Greyhound bus. It was a hard parting, but I have to admit it felt good to go home. So good that I stayed with Mother and Dad for a month! I actually got a temporary job in the Chrysler Building to help with the trip's costs. I visited the 1939 World's Fair on Long island, walked through lots of museums, took in the opera, ate at all my favorite places and visited all my friends. But, when Bob's letters started sounding too forlorn I hopped on the bus back home.
The trip took three long days and nights, but all my discomfort left me as soon as I saw the joy on Bob's face when I got off the bus. I don't think I fully realized until that moment how hard it had been on him. For not only was he running the business by himself, he'd also set up our new household.
We had put in a bid on a house before I left, and sellers accepted it—$2300 for a little bungalow at 735 Harvard Blvd. While I was gone Bob had had our furniture shipped from New York City via boat through the Panama Canal, and all of it waited for me in the cottage. I remember how surprised I was to see a new refrigerator in the kitchen and how excited Bob was for me to be there. It was our first house, and it had a walnut tree in the backyard. Our very own walnut tree! I guess it's hard to appreciate how special that was to us unless you've also lived in a city apartment.
I loved it, and wanted to get everything you couldn't have in an apartment. We got a puppy and called her, Susan. Then I got two cats and called them, Whiskey and Orange, due to their coloring. We had a lawn and a lawnmower, and Shasta daisies lined the walkway. I watered the daisies and the lawn, much to the amusement of anyone who saw me. It was the first time I'd ever handled a hose, so not knowing what to expect, and to keep my clothes dry, I wore a rain coat when I watered. I think I turned many a head, but it was so delightful doing all those things for the first time. Of course, some things we did for the first time weren't so delightful.
It was at that first house that Harry Hillis, my half-brother, came and stayed with us. Bob had fixed up the garage for him, and Harry lived in it for two years so he could take advantage of the free junior college. My mother paid us twenty-five dollars a month for Harry's room and board, but it wasn't enough to compensate for the inconvenience. Harry was always making a nuisance of himself, coming into the house at any time, eating all his meals with us, expecting us to include him in everything we did. I was so glad when he left, and we got our privacy back.
Of course, by then the kids had started coming and we never really had privacy again, but it's different when it's your children.