The Willow Glen Resident

Photograph courtesy of Cookie Curci-Wright

Golden: The Franciscos celebrated their 55th anniversary last October.

Wartime life in Willow Glen

By Cookie Curci-Wright

World events were moving fast in 1942 as America readied for war, but despite the fears of the day, young couples were marrying at a record pace.

Chris and Rocky Francisco, old friends of mine, were among Willow Glen's young newlyweds in 1942, and today, as they celebrate more than 50 happy years of marriage, they take a fond look back at what it was like starting life together in those turbulent war years.

"Despite the terrible war that was taking place, it was still a good time to be starting life together," remembers Rocky as we are all chatting one night.

"We were lucky back then, too," recalls Chris. "Willow Glen sat in the hub of the fruit-canning industry. Young couples could save up a good nest egg by working double shifts in the local canneries."

"Let's see, now," Rocky says. "There was the C.P.C. on Auzerais Avenue, U.S. Products on Race Street, Sun Garden on First Street, Richmond Chase on Stockton, Del Monte Cannery on Auzerais, Dole on Virginia and Beechnut packing plant on Seventh Street."

"Don't forget the Del Monte pickle factory on Jackson Avenue and the big Contadina plant on Race Street," Chris reminds him, "and, of course, the San Jose Cannery on Lick Street, where we both worked for over 35 years."

After marrying on Oct. 28, 1942, Chris and Rocky went to work at the cannery, where they each earned a $15- to $20-a-week salary, but it was more than enough to rent their very first home on Palm Street in Willow Glen. The cozy two-bedroom, one-bath house rented for $18 a month. (The average monthly rent for a Willow Glen home during the war years was $16 to $20, the Franciscos and my mother say.)

Rocky recalls his long workday at the cannery: "A lot of us worked eight- to 12-hour shifts, seven days a week. My wife, Chris, worked the assembly lines, cutting 'cots [apricots] and other fruit. Some days her hands were beet-red from peeling the hot fruit. I worked in the 'cook-room,' where the tomatoes were simmered in huge cookers. Every day, the room I worked in was filled with the steam and aroma of cooking tomatoes.

Chris says, "With our salary we paid our bills, built up a savings and still managed to buy a new Plymouth at a cost of $825."

Like most wartime newlyweds, Chris and Rocky found the threat of the draft looming in their future. Wanting to do his part in the war campaign, Rocky drove his new car out to Moffett Field with the intention of enlisting in the Naval Air Force.

"It was a hard choice for us to make," recalls Chris, "but young couples all across America had to make the same difficult decision--enlist or wait for the draft."

Rocky talks about his Air Force physical. "I passed all the tests with flying colors," he says. "I was just this close to being accepted, when the military doctors discovered I was badly hearing-impaired in one ear. I was rejected for Air Force duty and reluctantly returned to my job at the San Jose Cannery."

Rocky received three draft notices during the war years but was sent home each time due to his impaired hearing.

Willow Glen couples put in a long workweek in factories and canneries and on fruit ranches, but when the weekend rolled around it was time for fun and relaxation. And there was no better time to enjoy live music than in the 1940s--a decade remembered for its bad news and good music.

"Jivy-Ivys" jitterbugged to the Andrews Sisters' "Boogie-Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B," swooned to Frank Sinatra's "I'll Be Seeing You," and became misty-eyed over Bing Crosby's "White Christmas."

Chris and Rocky remember Lou's Village on San Carlos Street and Hawaiian Gardens on Almaden Road as two popular nightspots of the '40s. But when the two of them had a rare night out, they'd go to the Flamingo Club on Old Almaden Road, where the incomparable Nino Milo crooned their two favorite tunes, "I'll Never Smile Again" and "My Prayer."

"It was rough being a working mother," Chris says. "I had to work full time in the cannery while raising our three sons, Rocky Jr., Sam and Michael. Their grandparents were too busy working in the canneries to help out. We worked out a schedule that permitted one of us to be home with the boys whenever the other was working.

"We had to work odd hours, everything from graveyard to split shift," she laments. "Some days we barely saw one another."

According to Chris and Rocky, grocery shopping in the '40s took a special effort to make ends meet. "We had to use rationing stamps for foods that were in short supply, and we bought in bulk at the Central Grocery store or at the Frank Aiassia produce market." Chris recalls. "Housewives picked up sacks of day-old bread at bargain prices from Langendorf and Sunlite bakeries on Fourth Street. In those days, every housewife had plenty of recipes for dried bread crumbs."

The State Meat Market on Santa Clara Street offered mutton at a thrifty price. But steak and butter were a rare commodity. Grocery prices were 39 cents for a gallon of milk, 29 cents for a dozen eggs and 20 cents a gallon for gasoline.

Chris smiles. "During the war years, our butcher was the most popular man in the neighborhood. If the butcher liked you, he'd leave plenty of meat on those free soup bones."

After 55 years of marriage, three children, six grandchildren and five great-grandchildren, Rocky and Chris' roots are firmly planted in Willow Glen. Judging by the happy faces of the Francisco grandchildren as they gather every Sunday 'round Grandma and Grandpa's dinner table, they're mighty glad they are.

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