Paso Robles, Calif. is the Town That Almost "Knew Me When"

A former schoolmate of mine recently moved to Paso Robles, California. I had been thinking of working on my book this morning, then my mind bifurcated and I’m blogging about Paso Robles instead. If it weren’t for the fact that I love Fortuna best of all the towns I’ve lived in, I’d put Paso Robles as number one.

Of course my friend actually lives in nearby San Miguel. I remember San Miguel being one of those sleepy little spot-in-the-road burgs whose claim to fame – at least when I lived in Paso Robles - was the old Spanish mission (which was cool) and the time a train transporting sugar beets derailed. Wow! Those sugar beets rotting in the not sun sure stunk!

I lived in Paso Robles from late 1955 to early 1957 – I think. I know I was 10 when we moved there and had my 11th birthday shortly thereafter.

I was my fifth-grade teacher’s pet; the one and only time in my life I’ve been so exalted. I don’t know why she fawned on me like she did – maybe because we went to the same church - but I ate it up. I worked in the school cafeteria too and received free lunches when I did. Those lunches sure beat cold PNB sandwiches. I also was a hall monitor in the fifth grade and tether ball champion of the school.

Sixth grade was in town and a bit of a walk. But I enjoyed walking there with my friend and classmate Jerry. We had to walk past the high school to get to our “middle school.” In the spring we sometimes found baseballs fouled over the fence by high school baseball players. Jerry and I always hoped we’d meet some pretty high school girls, but we never did.

Speaking of girls though, a young woman my mother had befriended and who I thought was the most beautiful woman in the world, told me one time her apartment was right across the street from the middle school and I was welcome to come over to her place for lunch. Flaming hormones almost got the best of me dreaming about a seduction scenario, but my mother must have discerned the lust of my thoughts because she totally put her foot down on my libido.

Back to baseball. This old guy who had once been a minor league pitcher for the New York Yankees still liked to throw and he let me catch balls for him. I was the biggest kid in our apartment square and not afraid like the other boys. That old guy was cool. He really burned my hand a few times but I never complained. The guy had a blonde granddaughter too, who was nine years old. One night while my mother visited with the old guy’s sister in her apartment her nine-year old daughter taught me how to kiss Mormon style. I guess it was Mormon style because her family was Mormon. That girl at nine years old was one of the best kissers I have ever known.

We lived in this low-cost, government –subsidized apartment complex. Just about every race you could think of lived there. The place was a real melting pot. Many families of soldiers from nearby Fort Ord lived in the complex and we all got along pretty good except for this one white kid who was a distant cousin of Gov. Faubus of Alabama, who was fighting the feds so hard to stave off school integration. Our local newspaper published a story about how Gov. Faubus’ cousin was getting along so well with black kids in school. Ha! We stoned that lying little sucker every time we saw him for several days.

I really liked downtown Paso Robles though I don’t remember it very well now. The town did hold a couple of parades while I lived there and my mom usually shopped at the Safeway store. One of the best features off Paso Robles was the city park – which I thought was huge. Years later when I visited back there, I discovered it wasn’t so huge, only one block square. But it had a really cool gold fish pond, which I also thought was huge, but wasn’t. The coolest thing in the park was the library where I checked out books about cowboys and their Wild West adventures.

I had many adventures in Paso Robles. I had a walking newspaper route. I was the neighborhood marble champ, but I couldn’t rock the baby with my yo-yo so good. Me and my buddies used to tear around the neighborhood on bikes (I borrowed one) with poker cards or balloons clipped to the wheel spokes – to make as much noise as we possibly could – usually early in the morning. We’d run around playing tag in the dark during the summer, hollering and carrying on with wild savages. If there was a hobo or two on a freight train passing by behind our complex, we’d throw rocks at the hobos. I hope my old classmate enjoys Paso Robles as much as I did. That would be the “town that knew me when,” if it weren’t for Fortuna. There are some pretty nice wineries around Paso Robles now too.

Mission San Miguel