Campbell, California Since 1999
The Good Old Days
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World War II was over By Jerry Baum It is impossible not to wax nostalgic after reading "The Good Old Days" column by Bobbie Sheets, in the June 5th edition of The Campbell Reporter. I too grew up in Campbell, actually in the San Tomas neighborhood. Back in the fifties San Tomas seemed as if it were a city unto itself, Campbell was "miles" away, almost to San Jose by kids' standards. Ah, it was just like yesterday when ... World War II was over and there were more returning GI's than there were jobs in the States. My Dad and Mom decided we had more opportunity in California than we did in Kansas so out we came. The four of us, my dad and mom, my sister, Vicki and me, put our few possessions in my dad's '47 Ford, hooked up a ten foot trailer and set off to the promised land. We lived in that trailer for almost two years in a little trailer park on Monterey Highway near the Santa Clara County Fairgrounds, in fact that little ramshackle trailer park is still there today. I had just started kindergarten when my dad told us he had just bought a house in Campbell. In 1953 my dad had to sell the 10-foot trailer for the down payment and finance the rest of the $2,500 it cost for the two-room (not bedroom, two-room) house on a third of an acre. The mortgage was 25 dollars a month, with a six dollar a year property tax. We didn't have cable bills since there were only three TV stations, and they went off the air at 11 p.m. and didn't come back on until 7 a.m. Phones were all "party lines," so we had to wait our turn or have someone break in with "are you going to talk all night?" We didn't have Nintendo or video games, we got to play in the creek on the corner or at the fish ladders, where today the bridge from San Tomas Expressway crosses the water to Highway 17. We ran freely through the orchards and had tree swings. These were the days of door-to-door milk delivery, Fuller Brush men, and waving to the pilots in the blimps that slowly passed overhead on their way to Moffett Field. All our neighbors were rural people, we all raised chickens and grew our own vegetables; we all attended the same church. On Sunday we all went to church, came home and killed the one hen that wasn't laying that week. This was before barbecue, everything was either boiled, broiled, or fried. Home- made ice cream and watermelons at four for a dollar was desert. Our alarm clocks were roosters, lots of them throughout the neighborhood, seven days a week. Dogs roamed freely, but never bit anyone, never caused a ruckus. San Tomas used to be more than a road; it was the hub of our community. On the corner of Elam and San Tomas was everything you could want without going to the Pennnys in downtown San Jose. On the northeast corner was an "American" gas station where you could buy ethel gas for 25 cents a gallon. Next to that was a barber shop where I got my haircut (the one my dad wanted) for a quarter, today the building still stands as a beauty shop. Across the street was San Tomas Market, not the one most people remember, before that, right ON the corner. It may have been small, with only street parking, but it had a meat department that was run by the owner who lived across the street where Palermo's Pizza stands today. My mother used to send me to the market to buy her a pack of cigarettes with just a note. Today I would be a ward of the state for child abuse. On the southwest corner was an honest to goodness "Five and Dime." "Excuse me sir, could I have 3 cents of that, and 4 cents of that, and a nickels worth of ..." On the southeast corner of San Tomas and Smith, I don't remember if that road was called Smith back then since the Smiths' were still living in an old Victorian behind the market; was the San Tomas Feed and Grain Supply. My dad used to send me down to pick up some "chicken scratch" and while I was there people were loading up hay and alfalfa, rabbit food, and selling eggs and milk products. Over the years that corner has seen many changes but it hasn't changed the character of the neighborhood at all. A very nice Korean family runs the "Milk Farm Dairy" today, but the building hasn't changed much. On the side you can still see where people used to back their trucks up to load hay. In the front there is a partition by the milk area that used to be open with only a padlock securing it at night. The cash register is in the same place it was almost 50 years ago, still serving the community. Next to the feed store an old German man ran a shoe repair shop where I got my shoes resoled over and over again until I grew out of them. After they dug up the orchard, a modern mall was built with shops all along the way. There was a restaurant and a hardware store, a liquor store and a gas station on the corner. Those, too, are gone now with the exception of the liquor store and, that will soon be on its way into the past. The cars have changed in the past 50 years, the speed has not. We used to call this San Tomas Speedway. My neighbor still gets cars driving into his house, just like they did so many years ago. I can sit on my porch and watch cars blast through intersection of San Tomas and Winchester, just like they did so many years ago. My parents are long gone and I now own the house my dad built in 1960. The creeks and orchards are a thing of the past, same with leaving your door open on a hot summer night while you slept. In the morning I might hear a rooster crow in the distance, or it might just be my past dreaming itself into today. The sounds of country have been replaced with the growl of freeway traffic miles from here. There are few of us that remember the old neighborhood. The large lots have been replaced by large homes on small lots. Chickens you find at Safeway and everyone has a dish instead of an antenna, my yearly property tax is more than my father paid for this place. While I can make hundreds of thousands of dollars to sell this place, it is home. I have a history and roots in this community. Houses may have changed and people might come and go but San Tomas will never be replaced in my heart. Jerry Baum is a longtime Campbell resident. |
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