In the early 1900s, a great Pentecostal movement started in the Azuza Street Church in Los Angeles, and those called to God set forth on a mission of revivals throughout the United States.
In 1850 California became the 31st state, and Reedley was in Mariposa County. Back then, if you wanted to cross the river, you either found a shallow place and "forded" across or found a ferry, paid the fee and crossed while staying nice and dry. At one time there were half a dozen ferry crossings over the Kings River, from the foothills to Tulare Lake. In just two years, the Reedley area was in Tulare County and could claim two operating ferries.
Ghouls, goblins and zombies too, witches and ghosts and maybe a hobo or two--groups of kids invade the streets searching for candy and all saying "treat of treat." It must be October 31, all Hallow's Eve in Reedley.
I can't keep writing how great those Fiesta's of a half century ago were when every year there are fewer around to remember them. Thinking of friends gone by, a conversation came to mind between myself and the late Dennis Olson about the pride we both had when we watched our Reedley High "Pirate" Band march down Colorado Boulevard during the Pasadena Rose Parade in 2000. So, I thought to myself, "Self, what a better tribute to the Fiesta than to drop by and see Mr. Burl Walter Jr. and chronicle the story that led him to Reedley."
The Reedley Downtown Association's gala event is fast approaching, touting fine cuisine from 30 food providers that call Reedley home. As the hysterical historian, I have been thinking back over my 65 years as a Reedleyite and of the 50-odd restaurants, cafes, diners, hotdog and frosty stands, drive-ins, bars and dives that came before.
It was every boy's dream to own a bike, expand your horizons of exploration or visit friends across town. The Cadillac of bicycles was the Schwinn Phantom with a springer front end. Mr. Parkinson was our Schwinn dealer in Reedley. His store was one of the last buildings on G Street with a board walk. It sat between Allied Equipment (the International Harvester dealer) and Enns' Pontiac used car lot--almost directly across from Harmony Home.
What better way to celebrate the second anniversary of Kings River Life, than to celebrate the lives of those who lived along the Kings River. Some may be familiar and some you may not have heard of, but all of them were a part of the bountiful life along the Kings River.
Editor Lorie Ham says, “interview,” and my stomach ties up in knots, I grind together what few teeth I have left, and my usual gift of gab gets up and goes to be replaced by an unusual fit of shyness. Then she says “Ron Surabian,” and I say to myself, “Self, I can do this,” and I start downtown to visit the known haunts of the “Reedley Troubadour.”
In 1953 my Dad was in the money and itching to buy a newer car, or at least one more suitable for a successful educator than the 1947 Plymouth he was currently driving. Buick was his make of choice, and one Saturday he drove around the block where Jackson’s Buick lot was at least three times. On the used car lot sat a gun metal grey Super Four-Door with a cream top. It was just two years old and it looked brand new.
I became a Reedleyite in 1947 and I was in for a culture shock the first time I went out in Aunt Geneva’s backyard to play with the neighborhood kids. The countries represented included Mexico, Finland, Denmark, Germany, Russia, Italy, Portugal, Armenia, Lebanon, Japan, and Korea, to name a few! John Steinbeck introduced California to the new immigrants called “Okies” of which I was one, wearing high top shoes and overalls. But the games we played were all the same: kick the can, statue, or mother may I. My first friend was a Portuguese kid named Danny Enos, who lived down the street. We would usually meet at Ayubes Market for a coke or ice cream.
