Thomas Wolfe was half right, “You can’t go home again.” I had that experience after a recent trip to my hometown of Watsonville. Now over 50,000 in population with a serious housing problem, residential streets in Watsonville are bumper to bumper with cars, overflowing from driveways of homes with an abundance of residents and a lack of paint and parking. The town in general, is pretty beat up.

Fillmore is another story. While I don’t claim to be a native, Fillmore has been in my bones for over 60 years. I and my younger brothers (twins Bill and Bob) spent two weeks in Fillmore each summer, staying at my great grandparent’s house on Olive Street in the 1950’s. Their names were William (Pop Welchance) and I don’t know my great grandmother’s given name. I should know but I don’t want to wreck it and find she had a name like Minerva or something. I was good with MOM. I was 5-years-old my first trip to Fillmore and I continued to return each summer until I was 12.. After MOM died, POP had a stroke and moved up to Watsonville. He was not the same man… he was a Fillmore guy.

My mom, Emily ( born in Santa Paula) would be with us and my dad Gerald, better known to our Oregon Street gang as “Uncle Curly” (for his receding hairline) came down to Fillmore on weekends. Those were some of the greatest weeks on my life. By age 9 I had explored every inch of Fillmore and a good stretch of the Santa Clara River close to town.

My grandparents, Rollie and Dorothy French, would also be there. The house looked big to a little kid but standing in front of it recently, I realized how cramped it must have been. It’s not in the best of shape after all these years but it wasn’t exactly Buckingham Palace 60-years ago either.

I’ve returned several times in the last few years always finding an excuse to get my “Fillmore Fix” while visiting my son and his family in Simi Valley.

I’m going to steal from David Letterman and do a “Top Ten Fillmore Experiences That Come To Mind.” List. I have plenty more but they get a little mushy and would bore the hell out of you and you might have not even read this far!

#10 Danny the kid next door got stung by a bee, he was allergic and died.
Now that I got the bad stuff out of the way:

#9 Visits to “Sack’s House” That’s all I remember about the lady’s name but she and her sister were the oldest living twins in the United States and every year got a letter from the President. I always liked looking at those letters and that was my first awareness of autographs, the ritual despised by many celebrities.

#8 The Ride to Fillmore. We would leave Watsonville before dawn in the family 1951 Plymouth Wagon and the backseat side compartments were stocked with toilet paper and Kleenex. Under the seat were new comic books that were not to be opened until after the sun came up. Yeah , right. In almost complete darkness, I did more than 90% of my life’ squinting on the ride to Fillmore in that battleship grey Plymouth. The comic books were also supposed to be a buffer between brotherly combat… that didn’t work either.

#7 Stopping At Santa Claus Lane near Santa Barbara
Not only was it a great place to get whoopee cushions, fake barf and dog crap and Chinese handcuffs, the first couple of years I still believed in Santa Claus so I really hit the jackpot. Plus, I knew we were getting close to Fillmore. I see the giant Santa Claus from Santa Claus Lane’s glory days is sitting in a junkyard on the 101 just south of Oxnard. Not cool.

#6 Watching MOM and POP watch the wrestling matches on TV. They could really get worked up over that “rasslin’” especially when Gorgeous George would make an appearance. They had a black and white TV and a piece of 3D cellophane they put over the screen so they could scream at Gorgeous George in semi-color. The “matches” were telecast from the Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles. My Dad took us down there one Saturday night but he didn’t know MOM was packing. As Gorgeous George made his entrance down the center isle MOM plunged a hatpin into his left buttocks. George was not gracious and close up, as I remember, not particularly gorgeous either.

#5 Walking To The Pool Hall. Weekday afternoons POP would take me for our trip to the pool hall on Central Avenue. We’d walk out the back door past the chicken coops; unlatch the gate to the back alley and “walk uptown.” I remember the mystery of the alley and walking by a Pontiac Dealership with one car on the showroom floor. POP was well known at the pool hall, always greeted warmly. I remember feeling grown up, sitting at the bar with a soda pop. I think POP had a pop too but it was a different kind. Years later my mother told me he was a bookie. I remember listening to Dodger games with him….wonder now if he liked the team or it was just business.

#4 Speaking of chickens, I use to watch MOM cut the chicken’s head off and let the body dance around the yard for a few seconds. Pretty cool for a boy my age and MOM sure could fry a hen. In the morning, we would gather eggs and I remember thinking that a chicken laying an egg was a most interesting thing.
** This is not in my Top 10 but it’s a plus that you can get Japanese Peanuts grown in Mexico in just about any Fillmore or Piru market. I love those things and they’re hard to find in Florida.

#3 The Sespe Saloon. Remember drinking there one time coming back from San Francisco Giants spring training in the early 80s. Probably best it’s not open and that I’m not drinking.

#2 The Trout Hatchery. When I took my 19-month old grandson to the hatchery it made six generations in my family that have fed those speckled beauties. Jimmy had a blast. After feeding them one pellet at a time from the fish food vending machine (A hand fullbargain at 10 cents!) Jimmy realized he could cause a frenzy of fish by throwing all the pellets at once. I have been a trout fisherman all my life and it all started in Fillmore. Not that I fished there, just seeing the fish always made me want to catch one in a stream and Uncle Curly was a great fly fisherman and teacher . He was also a pretty fine father.

The fish have been swimming in Fillmore since the 1930s. For some reason, I particularly like the sign that says “No Fishing for Fish, Crayfish or Frogs.” The lagoon at the west end of the hatchery is home to some interesting birds and fat trout that made a break for freedom and are now living the good life, eating real fish food, bugs and minnows and the occasional old captivity food as people throw pellets through the meshing on the lagoon fence.

#1 How Fillmore looks today. I don’t know how things work in Fillmore and I’m sure there are the normal small town politics even big towns have but Fillmore looks great. Downtown is still a little sleepy but yet seems vibrant and alive. Those in charge have done a good job keeping the franchises at bay and out on the highway. The central neighborhoods look like homeowners care and houses that were $20,000 in the 50s’ are now $400,000. The foothills are a fantastic backdrop.

Fillmore…… it brings back a lot of memories and is a place I could end up if I play my cards right. I just realized I’m wearing my Flashes T-Shirt………Fillmore Rocks!