Momkat [No Name Given] and Everett Saucedo

[00:01] MOMCAT: Good afternoon. My name is Momcat and I am 81 years old. Today's date is January 25, 2023, and I'm in El Paso, Texas. My interview partner is my son. His name, he will give it to you. And like I said, he is my dear son.

[00:28] EVERETT SALCEDO: Okay. Hello. My name is Everett Salcedo. I'm 48 years old. Today's date, January 25, 2023. We are in El Paso, Texas, and this is my mother. Mom, cat. So go.

[00:44] MOMCAT: Okay, I am going to start. And this is not my script, but I have made it mine because I feel that in connection, it is mine. So here I will begin. As I get older, I become more aware of the malleability of our memories. The bitter ones mellow with age and lose some of their sting. The sweet ones become sweeter. Some are not born of actual events, but are instead reflexive inventions of a past we would like to think really did exist. And some simply disappear. One of my memories of my father. I placed some time in 1982, after the death of my great grandmother on my mother's side. It's possible time has altered the details, and it is possible this event never really did occur at all. Anyway, here is what I remember. My grandmother, then a spry young lass of about 70, declared the grief of the loss was so unsurmountable that the house would be in a state of mourning for one year. That meant no tv, no music, no laughter, no light, no life. About two Sundays after the band was imposed, my aunt Julie and her then husband, Juan, arrived. As it so happened, the Dallas Cowboys were playing the Steelers that afternoon. My dad and Juan stared at the cold, dead tv until Juan said that they should turn it on briefly, just for a minute, to check the score. My dad walked to the tv, gingerly turned it on, and waited for the barking order to turn, demanding that the damn thing be turned off. The order never came, and the tv stayed on. After a while, my dad said he was thirsty. One disappeared and came back with a six pack. Of course, ice cold. They each took a swig and gingerly popped the can, waiting for the barking order to put their beers away. As you might have guessed, the order never came. Yoli and my mom soon joined, and they each opened a beer. Juan said he was hungry, and soon the kitchen was alive with a sound and smell of food cooking and women talking. By the end of the game, the grief had been defeated and that lovely little house was alive again, filled with laughter, light, and life. This memory, more so than any other I have, represents to me the man Henry Salcedo was laughter, light, and life. And these are all things created by families. And Henry loved the family dearly. Evidence of this love is everywhere. His backyard boasted a gazebo he built to host large gatherings. He was the first to volunteer his den when the big game came on and the first to volunteer his dining room and had collection for the poker game. Henry did not discriminate between family, by marriage, or by friendship. Everyone included in the circle was equal and truly blessed. It is these three lessons, unconditional love of family, love of country, and duty to profession, that I, for better or for worse, will carry on for the rest of my days. But sadly, this day I must add a fourth lesson to the list. It is a lesson I am not sure he realized until it was too late that the counterbalance to hard work is the ability to enjoy the fruits of your labor without guilt or compunction. Working hard grants you the right to call your boss and say, I am taking the day off. I am going to the park with my wife today. We are going to have a picnic and we are going to feed the birds, and the world can just wait. So tonight I leave you with this. One of the places Henry always wanted to visit was Monument Valley, Arizona. He began talking about Monument Valley when I was still in my single digits. He talked about its sculpted buttes, break red hills the way some people talk about climbing Mount Everest or paying 20 million to hitch ride on a decrepit russian space capsule. Yet always his lips were those cursed, blasphemous warts. Well, maybe next year. From El Paso. Monument valley is a ten hour drive, about 628 miles, give or take. It is not the dream destination of a lifetime, just a weekend getaway. Henry was a djinn worker, always tragically so. He began working as a paper boy at the age of twelve and never really stopped. It was in his work that a usually hidden aspect of his character emerged. The man he could be remarkably machiavellian, preserving the safety of his kids and maintaining a disciplined environment for them to learn in. That was his goal, and he ruthlessly and unapologetically pursued. At times. His methodology brought him and me a lofty lawyer with too much self righteousness and not enough tact to log our heads. But I humbly concede that his approach produced what I hope is his greatest legacy as a teacher and principal. I hope he is not remembered for how he ran his school, but by the number of kids who will break the cycle and mold because of the nurturing enclave he carved out of the chaos of El Segundo barrio. Henry was a thinking patriot and possessed a skill so rare in the world today, the ability to differentiate between the love of one's country and the love of its leaders. His time in the air force was not long, but it influenced his life until the end, from his sop approach to life to the stack of combat novellas and movies on his bookshelves. Yet his love of war as an art medium was grounded in the reality that only veterans seem to fully grasp and understand, the recognition that at the end, saving Private Ryan is just a movie. He once told me that if Hollywood were ever to make an authentic, true life war movie, it would be a four hour epic of a bunch of guys standing around a hangar doing nothing. Because at the end, war is not particularly adventurous or semitic. Instead, it is boring, bloody and absurd. This was Henry.

[09:47] EVERETT SALCEDO: This was also the eulogy that I wrote for his funeral. Yeah, sorry. Sorry about that. Yeah. But anyway, your family, they're not originally from El Paso, right? They're from the big Bend.

[10:04] MOMCAT: No, my family originated in big Bend area. Okay. Sometime in the 18 hundreds, my great grandparents and my grandmother came by mule through Santa Elena, Terlingua. And prior to that, let me go back and say that my great grandparents came from Mexico. And it was in Mexico that they packed their dishes, packed their suitcase, and whatever it is that they owned. And they started their trek north. Took them several years, not several, but quite a few years, because my dad was born along the way and my grandfather passed along the way. So when the little group now made shorter by all these new events, when they finally crossed into Santa Helena, Cobuila, they came and they settled Interlingua. Heaven knows where they got the idea of coming north through Santa Helena, only they know. And that's my father's side. On my mother's side, they had a little more money, I guess you could say, because they came in a station wagon as opposed to riding on the back of a donkey and walking all the way from Merida, Yucatan, to Santa Helena, as my father's family did once Interlingua, it was an explosion of mines in the city. I call it a city because at the time it was quite a big mining town. And so at the age of eight, my father was asked to go work in the mines because he was little and skinny and he could go through the shift, the mine all the way down and do whatever it was that he was supposed to do there. And so that's where he started working. He was being paid $2.10 a day. So it was two boys in that family. So the two boys made up the economy that the family lived on. On my mother's side they were not, of course, married yet. On my mother's side there were also two brothers and they both worked at the mine. And so that was like late thirties until early forties when the mines started closing. So we travel on now from Terlingua 1930, 919 40. And they moved on to another mining town, shafter. That's where I was born. After their marriage, I was born there in Shafter. And of course, you know, it also closed. From there they went to Alpine, Texas, big town. And in Alpine, my little brother was born. And by this time my dad had built an apartment and it was like a studio because it had kitchen, living room. Everything was combined into this one room apartment. And lo and behold, my little brother got sick. There were not very many doctors in Alpine even though it was supposed to be a bigger town than what they had left behind in Schefter Interlingua, you know. And I often think only the strong survived because I know that, you know, my little brother was a year younger than I.

[15:08] EVERETT SALCEDO: This is Ben Hamid, not Ray, right?

[15:10] MOMCAT: Ben Hami. Ben Hameen. And so in order trying very hard to keep the family together and my little brother alive they decided to move on to El Paso because they felt that in El Paso they would find better services, medical services and. But eventually there was. He was too far gone. And in Alpine they left a house, a vehicle, furniture, everything. And they lost everything because by the time my little brother passed away here in El Paso somebody had taken over the house because they couldn't afford to pay the taxes.

[16:11] EVERETT SALCEDO: So squatters took the house.

[16:12] MOMCAT: Yes. The furniture in the house. They took the car and everything. So by the time my dad got a job here in El Paso everything was gone. And we did go back. I remember going back to Alpine and I must have been about four years old when we went back. But we could not take possession of the house because it had already been sold I guess to the highest bidder or whoever could afford to pay the taxes on it. So that kept us here in El Paso and on my mother's side. The reason that we came to El Paso because my grandma on my mother's side was already in El Paso because during World War two my uncle had been drafted into the military and he was assigned to Ford bliss.

[17:14] EVERETT SALCEDO: Which uncle was this?

[17:15] MOMCAT: Chapo.

[17:16] EVERETT SALCEDO: Oh, chapo. Okay.

[17:18] MOMCAT: So Chapo was drafted and he did his training at Fort Bliss, Texas. From there he went to Germany and. But that is what. How we came to El Paso instead of going to another big town there. Presidio.

[17:38] EVERETT SALCEDO: So about what year is this? Is this like 1947?

[17:43] MOMCAT: No, no, no. That was, like, in 43.

[17:48] EVERETT SALCEDO: Oh, so this is during World War two.

[17:50] MOMCAT: Yeah, during World War two. I still remember, you know, my grandmother sending me with a dime to the corner store and buying $0.10 worth of coffee, $0.15 worth of sugar. And they used to have, like, stamps, the rations, tickets. Yes. And there was no buying sugar. There was no buying coffee or flour or anything, you know, because everything was taken to the servicemen who were in Europe. So, you know, but we went through very hard times, you know, but I turn back and I see that as a beautiful time in my life, because when my uncle Chapo, who came back from the military, when he came back to El Paso, they had, the family was joined again, and we all lived in Chinatown. This was a tenement on Piedras. Piedras.

[18:59] EVERETT SALCEDO: And output is today Piedras and Alameda, right.

[19:02] MOMCAT: Well, Alameda is a little further, but it was Piedras and Magoffin.

[19:06] EVERETT SALCEDO: Oh, so further down.

[19:08] MOMCAT: Yeah, yeah, it was further south, you know, like, going toward the canal there.

[19:13] EVERETT SALCEDO: Okay.

[19:14] MOMCAT: Yeah, on Cypress, you know, that area, you know, so. And, you know, there was no high school for Hispanics. The only one was Bowie. And all the people, all the teenagers at that time would go to Bowie High School.

[19:35] EVERETT SALCEDO: So at what point did you move from Chinatown to Rosa street, which I think you're kind of getting, is the thing that I love the most about your oral history and all the stuff that happened in Rosa street. Could you tell us a little bit about that?

[19:51] MOMCAT: Okay. By that time, you know, we were a family of four kids. Yoli was the baby. Then it was Ray, Julie, and myself, and our two parents.

[20:10] EVERETT SALCEDO: And at this point, like, Ben Hamin.

[20:12] MOMCAT: Had passed on, Ben Hamin was gone, you know, and Maggie, my youngest sister, was not born yet. So at that time, Ray was. If I was ten, Ray was a little younger, four years younger, you know, five years younger. But he was already gearing toward gangs at that age. He was already being primed. You're no four ganks.

[20:44] EVERETT SALCEDO: I remember one story that you tell me, and I love it, about how when he was at this period of life, he would. He and his friends would make zip guns. And I always thought that it was something like they would fabricate it, like, in their schools, like metal shop or something, but it was a lot more simple. You told me. It was basically they would run around with that tube that came off the end of like a bicycle pedal. And they would put a small caliber bullet, like a. 22 or a. 38. And they would just get a rock and wham. That was like the firing pin. So you had these kids running through this neighborhood shooting at each other with live ammo, with these homemade handheld weapons. Was this about the time this was happening? What year was this about? Give or take?

[21:25] MOMCAT: That was right after the soldiers started coming back in 1945. And that zip gun belonged to chapel.

[21:35] EVERETT SALCEDO: Oh, it was his zip gun.

[21:36] MOMCAT: Yeah, it was, you know, and I remember my grandmother hiding that gun from my uncle. And somehow he would find it or make another one. It was a wooden gun. It was shape of a gun, but it had like, you know, where the bullet would travel. It had, believe it or not, it had rubber bands. And this is what would pull it. They would pull it and zoom like an arrow, I guess, you know, the same basics, you know, of an arrow. But, you know, it was a fabulous time because the world was celebrating, kind of. Not to the extent that Covid. Now people are celebrating because, you know, they can travel and stuff. At that time, you know, it was more safe, I guess, more.

[22:32] EVERETT SALCEDO: And what the people were celebrating was the end of World War Two.

[22:34] MOMCAT: Yes, yes. And dancing on the streets. And I remember my uncle and my aunts, you know, getting all dressed up, you know, and my uncle would wear the boogie pants.

[22:52] EVERETT SALCEDO: The suit suits.

[22:54] MOMCAT: Suit suits. And my grandma would take those pants because they were wide leg. And she would take them to the tailor and change them to straight lake pants. And then Chapo would get pants again and would take him to the tailor. I mean, it was a back and forth thing, you know. But somehow that battle was never won because Chapo wound up being sent to Arizona because, you know, El Paso was ruining him, you know. But, yeah, when after that, we went to Rossett street, and because, like I said, my little brother was already being kind of geared, you know, toward the gangs in Chinatown.

[23:46] EVERETT SALCEDO: Do you remember that story you told us about Christmas Eve?

[23:51] MOMCAT: Christmas Eve, my dad.

[23:53] EVERETT SALCEDO: No. The story about how you had gone to mass and you had to run home to iron your clothes?

[24:00] MOMCAT: Oh, that was on Rosa street.

[24:02] EVERETT SALCEDO: That happened on Rosa.

[24:03] MOMCAT: Yeah, it happened on Rosa. And it was shortly after we moved to Rosa. Of course, going from Chinatown, I mean, which was always lively and dances and parties and women and men and all this, you know, going to Rosa was like going to the end of the world. I mean, it was a completely different story. It was quiet. There were no bars around, you know, but anyway, we had some excitement because. Yeah, that one in particular, I remember I was by then, I was about 13, and my sister Julie was four years younger than I, so she was about nine. And it was Christmas Eve, and my mother was already working by then. She was working at Caperos. And so, you know, during Christmas, of course, they. They had to work late because it was Christmas Eve. So we had been reminded that we were going to go to midnight mass. There's no way you could miss Midnight mass. And at that little neighborhood, there was always noise about ghosts and witches appearing all of a sudden, you know, and people didn't like owls because they represented the witches that would fly over at night and you would see the balls of fire. I actually saw that, and I don't know whether it was witches or not, but I know I did see balls of fire down the hill. And so we were over at Anita's house for Christmas Eve, and Anita is one of my aunts, and she said, well, we cannot go to mass dress like that. You have to go home and get some better clothing. So Julie and I, we had to go from Anita's house uphill because we had to pass the railroad. And you know how the railroad is always, like, on a little mound.

[26:18] EVERETT SALCEDO: Yeah. Yeah.

[26:19] MOMCAT: Okay. So we had to pass those. And it was dark, pitch dark. There were no lights outside at all, so. But we knew the road back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. We would always go to Anita's house. So we knew the road by heart. We knew it by memory. So we went over to the house. All the neighbors that lived around there were gone. They were not at home. It was Christmas. Everybody was out celebrating or going to mass or whatever. And Julie and I were at the house, and I was ironing the clothes so I could take it back for the rest of my little brothers and sisters. So we had. I remember a little dog. His name was Shadow. He was a little mixed mutt, white. And that's why we called him shadow, because he would always follow us all over the place. And our bathroom. Restroom was outside. It wasn't indoors. We didn't have running water indoors. We had to take baths in a tub. And anyway, the little dog was barking toward the bathroom door, which was open, and he would just scoot up, and then whoever was in the bathroom would kind of shoo him away, and so he would back up, and whoo, whoa, whoa. Would back up, and then again, he would go forward, and whoever he saw in the bathroom would kind of scoot him away. And so he would back up, you know, like, crying. So Julie. I sent Julie, I got a little scared because there was nobody outside. And I told Julie, go out and see what Chero's barking at. So she went outside, slammed the door, and went to the bathroom. There was nobody there. And she says, nellie, there's nobody there. So I said, well, you know what? Let's go. Let's get out of here. And as we go out the door, we were stopped by this circle of kids running around, but there was nobody there. And here's the, you know, a whole bunch of kids must have been at least eight. And we could hear their footsteps running around, and they were bouncing a basketball. After you hear a basketball bounce, you know exactly what it is. If you ever hear that basketball make that slamming noise on the cement, you know, it's a basketball. And they were playing with a basketball. And so the feed was going around us, and we were in the middle of the circles. They wouldn't let us out, because as we moved, they moved the circle with us. You know, if we were going one way, they would move that way, you know, and we went the opposite way. They would follow. And it was a circle of, I would say, at least six, eight kids. And it was just their feet. We never saw anything. Well, somehow we exited the circle, went down the hill, running with the clothes in our arms. By that time, we went down the hill, crossed the railroad tracks, went to Anita's house. Clothes were all over the place because we had left those clothes behind as we ran. But, you know, there were a lot of things that were happening, you know, but it was. That's where I really grew up. As a teenager, I went to Jefferson High School after that.

[30:45] EVERETT SALCEDO: Now, a good chunk of this neighborhood disappeared when the city built or when the country built. I ten, correct?

[30:50] MOMCAT: Yes.

[30:51] EVERETT SALCEDO: Another story, one of the more memorable ones that I remember of you is the one about how when you were little kids, you would play with the barrel. You would get into the barrel and roll around the trash pit. Could you talk a little bit about that?

[31:07] MOMCAT: Okay. Yeah. I was already, like, 13, so I didn't hang out with those kids anymore, you know, but we had little younger kids. I won't say little, but younger kids. And there was a family of about four kids, and we lived kind of up on a hill. And down the hill, my mother and two other ladies that lived in the neighborhood had made a pit hole, and they would burn the trash there. Well, this one time, some father had bought a little barrel, and it was made out of cardboard with an iron rim around it. Okay. And the kids started getting inside and rolling down the hill. Well, it just so happens that one of the kids in the next door neighbors went down the hill straight to the pit that was on fire.

[32:07] EVERETT SALCEDO: What was the little boy's name?

[32:09] MOMCAT: Traul.

[32:09] EVERETT SALCEDO: Raul.

[32:10] MOMCAT: That's right. And it was in the newspaper. It was all over town, you know, the news. So he never made it. He went straight head into the pit. You know, that was very tragic. Very tragic. But, you know, I still think that I had a wonderful childhood, even though it was very. In a way, some people would think of it as sad, but I thought it was great, maybe because, you know, when you're young, you see the world with rose colored lenses and. But it was hard. It was really hard, especially when we had to go out and work because my dad had left already and my mother, you know, was alone with five kids to take care of. And so the oldest kids are always the ones that get tagged, you know, to help. But I didn't see anything wrong with it. I didn't.

[33:20] EVERETT SALCEDO: Is that pretty much the closing moments? Anything else you want to add?

[33:25] MOMCAT: No. I think that that summonse my life, and I am glad for this opportunity to share this with you and whoever listens to it. And like I said, a wonderful time because I shared my youth with my family, my brothers. Everybody was still around, as opposed to now. And so with this, I close, and I hope that you carry on. And the reason that I got to do this, or I was encouraged to do it, was because I want this to be shared with my grandkids because they're little right now, and they never will get to know their grandpa. Well, Henry sauce, though. And that's the reason I took the. I hope you don't mind.

[34:36] EVERETT SALCEDO: No, no, not at all.

[34:38] MOMCAT: Because I feel that it is a vital thing for Paloma and Juanito and, you know, and Chante, you know, and all them. Yeah, I'm sure that Alex will love to hear it.

[35:01] EVERETT SALCEDO: All right. Well, thank you so much, mom. Thank you for doing this.

[35:04] MOMCAT: Yeah, it was a pleasure for me. And to know that at least it's a little bit of life, you know, a little bit of it. So I thank you for giving me the information that you did for this opportunity. I am glad I took it, and I was hoping that you wouldn't mind, you know, that I would share.

[35:33] EVERETT SALCEDO: No, no, not at all.

[35:34] MOMCAT: Okay.

[35:34] EVERETT SALCEDO: Okay.

[35:35] MOMCAT: Thank you, son.

[35:36] EVERETT SALCEDO: All right. Thank you.

[35:37] MOMCAT: It.