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“All this happened, more or less.”
I moved to Fullerton the first time in the summer of 1993. My parents had recently divorced and we uprooted ourselves from the only spot I can remember — Anaheim across the street from Magnolia High School — to a newish development behind the LDS church on State College and Rolling Hills. I don’t know my mother’s actual reason for moving to Fullerton, but I have to assume it was to be closer to the preschool she had opened in the late 80s right next to St. Andrews Episcopal Church.
My family has always been a big supporter of Catholic schools. My mom and her siblings had all attended St. Justin Martyr elementary in Anaheim, and went on to Servite and Connelly for high school. My siblings and I were no different. I had already been going to St. Justin before we moved, and my mom had wanted me to continue down that educational road. Unfortunately, as we moved at the beginning of summer, we missed the enrollment deadline for St. Juliana, which was our local parish church and school. Instead, I went to Acacia Elementary for a year — the only year I spent in public school.
Upon finishing the fourth grade, I took the entrance exam for St. Juliana. I didn’t want to initially. I had made friends at Acacia and I felt like I’d be abandoning them if I left. However, my mom was adamant that I receive a Catholic education. When I told her I didn’t want to go to St. Juliana, she gave me a choice. I could either stay at Acacia and attend regular sessions at the Chapel on Wheels, or I could transfer across the street. In the end, the prospect of spending my free time in that trailer was just too much. I figured I could still see my friends after school because, as anyone who is familiar with these two schools knows, they are literally across the street from each other — a street, mind you, that is about 20 feet wide. So no large effort on my part.
During the course of the testing to be admitted to fifth grade at St. Juliana, the school determined that their fifth grade program wouldn’t be right for me. I remember my mom receiving that call.
“Mrs. Cocca? Yes, hi. This is St. Juliana’s front office. We’ve determined that your son Sean wouldn’t really benefit all that much from our fifth grade program…”
There was a long pause.
“…so we’d like to try him in our sixth grade program.”
My mom just about had a heart attack. She thought for sure I had bombed the entrance exam and that they were suggesting I needed to repeat the fourth grade. Instead, they wanted me to skip the fifth grade entirely and get started on the sixth. I’ve always said that the reason I skipped fifth grade was because I knew how to do long division, as I distinctly remember that being on the entrance test, but I’m sure there was more to it than that.
I didn’t realize it then, but my time at St. Juliana really was a turning point in my young life. These were the halcyon days of my youth. I made friends there, many of whom I still regard as close friends these 25+ years later.
I roamed the streets of Fullerton on foot and on bike. I added to my baseball card collection at 59 Innings. I’d walk to the AMC on Saturdays to play video games at their arcade and then catch an early afternoon movie. Every year, I’d get drunk on cotton candy and soda with my family at the St. Juliana Fall Festival, and then a few months later I’d hang out with all my friends at the Fish Fry, even though I didn’t like fish at the time (they had cheese pizza too!). We’d sit at the top of Acacia Hill to watch the fireworks on the Fourth of July. We risked our lives ice blocking down the steep, grassy hills at Craig Park. There would be late night runs to Del Taco after hours of playing video games. And I always loved visiting my friends at work when they got jobs at Baskin Robbins. The free ice cream didn’t hurt either.
I loved it in Fullerton. It was my home, far more than Anaheim ever was. I had friends. I had memories, but not all of them were pleasant. I remember one Halloween when a friend and I were chased down by two different groups of older kids who threatened us and stole our candy. There was another time where some other friends and I decided it would be fun to throw glass bottles in as high as we could in the parking lot of Acacia Elementary so they’d smash into a million little pieces on the ground. Unluckily for us, a Fullerton police officer was nearby and heard the commotion. We spent the next hour sweeping everything up in the parking lot (under the close supervision of the officer) until every bit of glass was removed.
I was a known quantity in the community, and I couldn’t see myself living anywhere else. Ever. But, the best laid plans, etc. etc. My mother remarried in summer between my sophomore and junior year at Servite, and we moved from my beloved Fullerton to Westminster. I was forced to move away from everything I had ever truly known and loved. I was driving at this point, so all was not entirely lost. I spent every afternoon after school (when I wasn’t at basketball practice) at a friend’s house in Fullerton, doing my homework and trying to recapture the magic of living there. Alas, I had to go home every night. Home to Westminster.
It was never the same. The friends I had who still lived in Fullerton were still very much my friends and we were still very close, but somehow it just felt different. I was now 30 minutes away on a good day, as opposed to 5 minutes at the worst of times. I had to plan and organize our get-togethers instead of just dropping by to see if they were home. I felt isolated and alone. No one wanted to visit me in Westminster. Why would they, when they were all in Fullerton? It made much more sense for me to come to them.
I was desperate to move back, but fate and circumstance never really allowed for that. Until recently, that is.
I moved to Fullerton the second time in the Winter of 2019. My wife and I had been living with my grandfather in Anaheim to help care for him. After he passed, we had made arrangements to move to Yorba Linda. Those plans fell through at the last possible second, and we had less than 48 hours to find a new place to live.
We settled on a decent-looking apartment in Fullerton, about a mile and a half from downtown. I have to admit I was overjoyed to be moving back home. We were close enough to everything in and around downtown to walk. My wife and I made good use of that with our semi-weekly trips to Rutabegorz. We made a habit out of trying new restaurants and exploring as much as we could. She would laugh at me when I would explain that I wanted to go on a memory drive and revisit the places where I would hang out when I was younger. She obliged me anyway.
It was beginning to feel like old times. At least, it was at first. Then I started to notice things I never did when I was younger. The ubiquity of the bar scene and, as a consequence, the constant sirens we’d hear on Friday and Saturday nights or the vomit we’d regularly have to step over on and around Commonwealth and Harbor. The ever present issue of homelessness, brought into stark relief when my wife was attacked by a crazed homeless woman while walking our dog. An attack, by the way, made in clear view of a number of Fullerton firefighters who did little to nothing to assist my wife or detain her assailant.
We also began to sour on our neighborhood. I say it was a neighborhood, but, in reality, it was simply a collection of individuals who had little to no regard for anyone else, and showcased that attitude in every possible way. The constant illegal fireworks being lit off on every holiday, whether they call for fireworks or not. Just a few weeks ago, I swear someone was setting off Easter fireworks. The free-roaming children who would throw their trash in the street and in our driveway. The parents who didn’t seem to care what their children did, as long as they did it outside. The double-parking. Oh, how the double parking annoyed me. Couple that with Fullerton PD refusing to send anyone out to address it, even when vehicles were blocking my car and driveway, and you can see why I was so frustrated with it.
So my wife and I made a choice — we decided to leave Fullerton. Again, at least for me. And this time, it was my choice. In reality, there really wasn’t much of a choice. We will soon be bringing our own child into this world, and we decided Fullerton just isn’t the place to do so. It’s a shame, really. Fullerton has such promise. It has such a storied history. It has my history. But that history may only live in the past. It certainly does for me and my family.
Maybe it’s just my rose-colored glasses, but I’ll always remember my Fullerton as one of happiness, exploration, family, and friends. It’s just sad that my Fullerton can’t be our Fullerton.
*Sean, sad story……I attended Wilshire School in 1954….then on to FUHS 55 to 59…. We lived on 100 La Entrada Place, just off then Fullerton Road. Just south of Las Palmas and before Sunny Hills High School launched. I got my first article published in the Fullerton Tribune in 1957, Had my ’40 Ford Business Coupe, nosed and decked and painted with ’56 Packard Midnight Blue paint. Had a 59A Block, ported and relieved, bored and stroked, with Togel Heads and Edelbrock 4 Carb Manifold, which was blocked off on the front and back carbs, with the Stromberg 97’s and after market individual air cleaners….which got stolen about the third week of our Junior
year. Anyway, Anaheim beat us every year….and burnt a big “A” on the grass in front
of Admin building. Used to go to “the Bean Hut” in Anaheim cause it was better than
local drive-in, “the Hillside”. Also, went to the “The Grinder” near by that had the best sandwiches anywhere. We would go to “The Hat” over in Brea for a superb Pistrami Sandwich…Used to debate “David Boies” in our Debate Class and crush him! Yeah,
those were the days……when “The Dodgers” had just moved from Brooklyn and Jerry
Dogett was the color commentator and his beautiful daughter Sandy, rode the same
bus on the way to school. Al Campanis…also lived in the Development across from
where we lived. The cops all lived in the neighborhood and knew all the guys involved in “Midnight Auto Supply” activities. Louis Armijo, was our high school counselor, (a Navajo Code Talker) shot down on the B-29 Chase Plane following the Enola Gay…..
Yeah, Fullerton has had some history. Spent a lot of time on Saturday watching the
Fox Theater Matinee ….our schoolmate worked there, let us in for cheap and even
gave us popcorn sometimes! We loved Jeannie, she was dating some guy from Fullerton J.C….later they got married and went into the Army. Yeah Sean, Fullerton has changed a great deal. Former Congressman Bill Dannemeyer was our City Attorney..
a real “Wily Coyote”….but very cool. The parents moved out of Fullerton in late 1959 to go down to Cameo Shores in Newport Beach. We went off to USC, to learn the trade of Hypocrisy 101, Goren on Bridge and Girls 101, along with with playing “Thumper” and going through two various Fraternities….. So, sounds like you have reached that same
moment in time, when the day have come to move on…… Pick wisely..
Ah, yes….Fullerton
*Forgot to mention that Mickey Flynn was the running back for Anaheim Colonists and killed us every year in Football. Our Fullerton Indians….never had a chance! We did OK in Basketball, which was not big back in those days. Kent Pembroke was our star and he’d score 15 points a game….a big deal.
Hello Mr. Winship. I am married to one of Brig’s younger brothers. Sad to share that Brigman passed away this June. His younger brother Marvin “Marvelous Marv” passed away not even a week later. Both are Maple, Fullerton High, and Fullerton College accomplished athletic alumni. They both maintained friendships with many who grew up in Fullerton. There will be a celebration of life for both brothers at Fullerton High School Stadium on Sunday September 25, 2pm, open to the public. Come and reminisce memories of your youth.
I got out in 2004 after 17 years of watching political entropy and cultural Babbitry. It doesn’t seem like much has changed there – except the scofflawry is now openly embraced by City Hall where forgery of a document and mooncalfed legal explanations for monstrous cock-ups are now the rule rather than the exception.
The cops were useless then, as now, but I don’t remember them killing anybody. Maybe they just covered it up better.
Man you guys had it good…we moved to Fullerton back in the mid 60’s….we lived on Truslow in the neighborhood where I might add the police was always harrassing everyone there day and night.
The best part was downtown, there was a old cafe called Steele’s cafe on Harbor. Great food, operated by and older couple with big hearts. Day after Christmas the old Fox theatre was opened, and my siblings and I would walk, like seemed forced to get there and watch the newest movie release at that time.
We attended Maple elementary in Valencia as most of the neighborhood kids, did cause it close! For some reason (desegregation) we began to get bused to Commonwealth and Ladera Vista, even though we were closer to Wilshire. Graduated from FUHS and attended Fullerton College as it was called back then.
For some reason, though I needed to get out of Fullerton because the cops and the racism that came with that side of town got worse! Sad to say…my early years were pretty cool I have to admit! Different upbringings in Fullerton!
Great story brother. I was supposed to go to Magnolia too.From a fellow Olympian and Friar as well. Credo
I have been living in Fullerton for 40 years and have seen lots of changes, and not for the better. Police and Fire department do nothing to help.
It is so sad, because I have seen the change, I was in my thirties when I moved from San Jose,Ca.
Now I’m 75 and a widow and live in a retirement community after selling my house
But I miss my old places In Fullerton
Nice job, Sean.
May the pasture you find indeed be greener.
It already is.
*Back in 1954 when we attended Wilshire School….we had a very large contingent of Mexican Braceros and their families who picked lots of Oranges. We also had a great community of long term Hispanics too. You had to go across the train tracks south to
find the good Mexican Restaurants and food. We also had some hard ass pachucos who cruised in their Lowrider ’50 Chevy’s, with five or six “switchblade” carrying pals. They may have smoked a bunch of Mota, but in Grammer School…..we had to be careful going to buy bubble gum and Abba Zaba’s during lunch. In High School at FUHS, it was different story:
The Mexican girls were very cute, the Mexican guys distant. My good buddy Cal Garnica had gotten kicked out of Anaheim High School, but lived on the border and
came to FUHS in his Junior Year. We are still in contact, as he lives now up in
Berkeley. His wife Sharon, who he met at FUHS died last year….Sharon Williams was a very cool, intelligent woman and Cal is still a brilliant guy! We worked at the Mayfair Market in La Habra as a Box person and again, found Ronnie Rivera to be another great guy. Mother used to ask: “Don’t you have any white friends?” we would say: “They just aren’t that cool!” Anyway, we had one Black Family that included Brig Owens and his older brother…..they were kind of our token Black Folk. People forget that Fullerton was home to a heavy contingent of Ku Klux Klan in the 1920’s. At any rate, the consummate
So. Cal Bedroom community, built on The Nelson’s on TV format was the typical concept. Maybe White Elitism got its start back then, or perhaps it had been alive and well for many years. The Mexican families worked at Hunt’s…..never did see one black person at Fullerton Air Park in those days. History….remember or you will forced to repeat it…..eh?
*Interesting footnote for Fullerton:
Before Brig Owens rose to athletic prominence, four older brothers established a remarkable family tradition that spanned four decades in Fullerton:
–Jewell Owens, a single-wing tailback, starred for Fullerton High School and Fullerton College in 1951 and ’52. He rolled up 1,555 yards total offense for the Hornets and played semi-pro ball for the Orange County Rhinos. He died of cancer in 1963 at the age of 30.
–Leon Owens, 55, was a football and track star at Fullerton High School. He works at Bridgeford Industries in Anaheim.
–David (Sonny) Owens, 54, was a national prep-record holder in the high and low hurdles at Fullerton High School. He is an electrical engineer.
–Alford Owens, 53, played baseball and football at Fullerton High School. He is a manager for General Foods.
–Brig starred in the 1961 Orange County all-star game and for Sherbeck in 1961 and 1962. He was the second leading passer in Hornet history with 108 completions in 208 attempts for 1,404 yards, 12 touchdowns and only nine interceptions before transferring to Cincinnati.
I’m trying to summarize Sean’s explicit complaints here:
* Ubiquity of the bar scene
* Constant sirens on Friday and Saturday nights
* Having to step over vomit at Commonwealth and Harbor
* Pervasive presence of homeless people
* One instance of a violent homeless woman
* Firefighters refusing to intervene in an attack
* Illegal fireworks
* Untended children
* Littering
* Double-parking
* Police not responding even when double-parked car blocked driveway
In general, this list seems to suggest a yearning for a stronger police presence and more aggressive police enforcement of quality of life issues — with a particular focus on controlling the homeless.
I remember when Fullerton had more of that attitude. It was when the FPD killed Kelly Thomas.
I wonder how people celebrating Sean’s view here felt about that when a Downtown bar owner called them in to (supposedly) enforce a vagrancy law. Weren’t they catering to the same anti-homeless anti-disorderliness attitude?
P.S. I know of no area where nearby idiots don’t set off firecrackers in late June and early July because they think that it is their God-and-constitution-given right. Sean, if you found one, I’m happy for you.
Kelly Thomas is and always will be a gigantic black eye for the city and the police department. If I had to summarize my complaints about Fullerton, they would probably boil down to the lack of community, which I understand is difficult to maintain with 130,000+ citizens of various ethnic and national backgrounds. It just doesn’t feel like home anymore, which is a big reason we left. And that was difficult for me.
*Sadly, what was required at the time was seeking Federal assistance to establish a “Consent Decree” to oversee the Policies and Procedures of the FPD…..which did not happen, nor the resignation of the Police Chief….which needed to happen after over a year of stonewalling. You can’t redo history, but other can learn by others mistakes….if they are paying attention. Ferguson, Missouri was another misstep by the Federal Government….that should have called in the FBI to investigate. Which all started with the Travon Martin case in Florida……..for stupid abuses and the lack of proper judicial oversight.
What a well-written article. I’m from Columbus Ohio and moved to Los Angeles at age 18 right after high school graduation. California, especially Los Angeles, to a young naive me was totally different from the “personality” and people of Ohio. It seemed that children and young people were so advanced and had so much more freedom to do and be whatever they wanted, even if unsavory. For many years, I was was quite unhappy living in California. The adjustment was eventually made.
I met my husband in my late twenties. He was from a very large family living in Fullerton. His siblings, living in Fullerton, as well as many of the nieces and nephews also attended either Maple Elem. Fullerton High, Fullerton College, or Cal State Fullerton. Our three attended Fullerton College. Many of them can probably relate to your story, as well as the difference for them, as posted by “anonymous” May 17, 2020.
Fullerton is one of many once family-oriented communities that have changed. “What has America become?” is an article published in 2012 written by Ken Huber, Tawas City (Lake Huron), Michigan. Although there were some realities in the article, we continue to discuss and debate gloom and doom of our government and the world’s failures Yet we stay in our own bubbles watching our quality of life self destruct as the wealthy in control and their peeps enjoy life and privilege to the fullest. We can’t continue to debate about the life being sucked out of us if we are providing the straws.