LOUIS SANDOVAL FUHS '48

Sandoval, Louis Enciso, born June 21, 1929 in Santa Fe Camp, Bastanchury Ranch, Fullerton, CA and passed away peacefully Nov. 10, 2006. He resided in Buena Park and lived in Orange County for 77 years. Owner of Sandoval Masonry Construction and in business over 50 years, Louis touched people's lives with his sense of humor, integrity and family devotion. Survived by sisters, Alice Gonzales and Reinalda Rivera; children, Judy Ornelas, Barbara Soza, Louis Sandoval Jr. and Karen Stawniczy ; 14 grandchildren and 14 great-grandchildren.
Services to be held in his honor Nov. 15 at St. Philip Benizi Catholic Church, 235 S. Pine Dr., Fullerton, CA 92833. Viewing from 5-8:30 p.m. at the church with a Rosary at 7 p.m. Funeral Mass on Nov. 16 at St. Philip Benizi Catholic Church at 11 a.m. Interment follows at Holy Sepulcher Cemetery in Orange, CA.
Published in the Orange County Register on 11/15/2006.

SECUNDINO "CUNDO" MEJIA JR. FUHS '54

Secundino T. "Cundo" Mejia Jr.
Born: Oct. 28, 1935, La Habra
Died: Nov. 5, 2006
Survivors: Wife, Olga; sons, Jerry, Gary; daughters, Letitia, Charlene, Olga, Lynelle; two brothers; three sisters; 18 grandchildren; 11 great-grandchildren.
Visitation: 7:30 p.m. Nov. 12, Our Lady of Guadalupe Church, La Habra.
Services: 9 a.m. Monday, Nov 13, at the church.

Sunday, November 12, 2006
La Habra man found happiness at home
Secundino Mejia Jr., 71, showed his affection for his friends and family through his actions.
By ROBIN HINCH
The Orange County Register

If a movie had been made about the life of Secundino "Cundo" Mejia Jr., it might have been called, "Born Smart."
Cundo was no scholar.
But he had a wisdom about hard work, saving money, rearing children and finding fulfillment in life that others study for years to achieve.
He didn't travel, own a yacht or designer clothes. His name was never in the newspaper society pages.
But he was known to many as a solid, honest, hardworking man with a heart as big as a full moon. And as one to love and look up to.
He was 71 when he died at home Nov. 5 of congestive heart failure.
Cundo was born in La Habra, the 10th of 13 children, in a small house with no indoor plumbing in the middle of fragrant orange groves. He was 7 when he started earning pennies by picking up fallen oranges. And he didn't stop working, in one way or another, until the day he died.
He graduated from Fullerton High School (La Habra didn't have a high school then) and married his wife, Olga. He'd spotted her walking down the street one day and had told his friends, "See that girl? She's going to be mine."
He worked at a Signal gas station at 400 W. La Habra Blvd., that he ended up owning with his brother Frank. Over the next 30 years, the brand of fuel went from Signal to Echo to Exxon. The level of mechanical work Cundo offered remained the same: outstanding.
He did everything. He pumped gas, washed windshields, changed tires, replaced brakes and transmissions. And the station's small office, with its small TV and a refrigerator filled with six-packs, became a gathering place for watching sports and catching up on neighborhood news.
Cundo worked from 7 a.m. to 9 p.m., with only Sundays off. "This gas station is killing me," he said finally. So he sold it, bought a tow truck and went into salvage work.
He picked up cars from three counties and hauled them to salvage yards, often taking grandchildren with him, to their utter delight. He also towed, free of charge, the cars of many friends, neighbors and family members, day or night.
He used to joke that he'd been in the salvage business all his life, starting with fallen oranges, segueing to recycling aluminum cans and stripping and selling copper wire. Just days before he died he was out back, stripping his wire. He called it his therapy.
Cundo didn't waste anything – not money or food or time.
He and Olga reared eight children in a two-bedroom house, lived simply and saved money. But Cundo wasn't stingy.
He never said "no" to things like pony rides or treats from the ice cream truck. In fact, whenever the musical truck cruised down his street, area kids flocked to his house because they knew Cundo would buy for everyone.
If his kids needed a car, he'd buy it for them or loan them the money – as long as they produced a repayment plan.
He was a strict dad, but didn't yell or swear. He didn't get angry; he went silent. His harshest admonitions were, "Because I said so," and "Are you raising your voice at me?"
The girls had to learn to change tires, oil and transmissions, while Cundo watched, perched on an overturned bucket. But they were also given dance lessons, sports and Girl Scouts. He wanted them to be well-rounded.
Cundo watched who the kids hung out with. "Show me your friends and I'll tell you who you are," he'd say.
That he was the authority figure was never in doubt. "I'm the dad, you're the son," he'd say. "We are not friends."
But his love shone in so many other ways. Through his crystal-clear, piercing blue eyes, filled with affection. In the dozens of Christmas gifts he bought each year and the way he sheltered and guided his children.
For years, saying "I love you" was hard for Cundo. But as his health began to fail, he softened in that regard.
Knowing, perhaps, his days were coming to an end, he stunned a friend by kissing him and telling him he loved him. "Why are you telling me that?" the friend asked.
"I just wanted you to know," Cundo said softly.

Interviewed for this story: Wife, Olga; children, Letitia, Olga, Lynelle, Charlene, Gary, Larry.


Mejia, Jr., Secundino T. "Cundo" was born and raised in La Habra, CA for 71 years. We love you very much: your wife, Olga of 50 years: sons, Jerry, Gary; daughters, Letitia, Charlene, Olga, Lynelle; 18 grandchildren, and 11 great-grand-kids. He also leaves 2 brothers and 3 sisters. You will be deeply missed and never forgotten. Our Lady of Guadalupe Church La Habra viewing 7:30pm Nov. 12, 2006. Mass 9am Nov. 13, 2006.
Published in the Orange County Register from 11/10/2006 - 11/11/2006.

JOSEPHINE LARUE CHANCE FUHS '37 OBITUARY

Chance, Josephine LaRue, passed away peacefully on November 3rd, at the age of 87. A native Californian, she lived all but a few years in Orange County.
She grew up in Fullerton, graduating from Fullerton High School and Fullerton Community College.
Josephine had a life long love of the piano and began playing at an early age. She studied at the Institute of Musical Education in Los Angeles and received a certificate of graduation at age 18. She studied under Dr. Guy Bevier Williams. She went on to Whittier College where she obtained a credential to teach elementary school and also a special secondary credential to teach public school music. She studied piano under Margaretha Lohmann and in addition to furthering her piano skills, developed a life long friendship. She attended many master classes to advance her growth as a pianist. Over time, she performed as a soloist, a lecturer, gave recitals, and performed for schools, service clubs and church groups.
Josephine served as president of Orange County Musical Arts, chairman of Young Artists Auditions and held offices in the Orange branch on the Music Teachers Association. She was approved as a teacher by the American College of Musicians and was inducted into the "Piano Hall of Fame." She was also a Guild Facility member and judge. Although she taught public school after graduating from Whittier College, her real love was private piano teaching and she pursued it with vigor for 43 years. A long time Fullerton resident, she served as a board member of the North Orange County Community Concert Association for many years. She was founder of the Fullerton Ebell Club's annual Young Artist's Contest. She also served as an adjudicator for various contests sponsored by the Music Teachers Association of California, and was a judge for the National Guild of Piano Teachers. She loved her students and took each one to the highest possible level. She loved what she did and music was a very big part of her life. Her husband, Frank Chance, preceded her in death. He was always there to help and support Josephine in her many activities.
Josephine will be missed. She is survived by her brother, John LaRue and wife Carolyn; two nieces; one nephew, and their families.
Viewing will be on Friday, November 10, 2006 3-8p.m. at McAulay and Wallace Mortuary in Fullerton. Services will be held at the First Presbyterian Church in Fullerton on Saturday, November 11, 2006 at 2p.m. Donations may be made to the First Presbyterian Church to establish the Josephine LaRue Chance Memorial.
Published in the Orange County Register on 11/8/2006.

FOX THEATRE MAKES HISTORIC PLACES REGISTRY

From the Orange County Register Nov 7, 2006

The National Park Service has listed the Fox Fullerton Theatre complex on the National Register of Historic Places. The designation protects the theater and adjoining retail spaces housed in the Firestone building from being razed or significantly altered, according to a statement issued by the Fullerton Historic Theatre Foundation. Further, the Fox can now qualify for tax credits estimated at 20 percent the cost of the rehabilitation project. Volunteers are hoping the $20 million restoration will open by January 2010. See www.foxfullerton.org for details.

IF YOU WERE AT USC IN '55 AND ‘56

FLOORED by Bill Plaschke L A TIMES Nov. 5, 2006
An anonymous donation will introduce generations of Trojans to Jim Sterkel, and comes as quite a surprise to Mrs. Sterkel

The name is in giant cardinal letters, stripped across two sides of the new basketball court in this city's new basketball treasure, the signature on USC's signature arena.It will be stepped upon by generations of Trojans basketball players.
It will be seen by millions of Galen Center fans.Yet it is cloaked in mystery.Jim Sterkel Court."Are you sure?" asks his wife, Joanne Sterkel. "His name is on what?"It's on the hardwood, scripted there forever, officially scuffed for the first time on Nov. 16, when the Trojans open the season against South Carolina.It honors a former Trojan who played only two seasons in the mid-1950s. He never averaged more than 10 points a game. His teams never won more than 16 games. He never graduated. "You're kidding me," asks his daughter Jill. "Are you sure you have the right man?"He spent a lifetime working as a Johnson Wax salesman. He died of cancer in 1997. He left behind a wife of 38 years and three children and a modest Hacienda Heights home.Outside that home today there hangs a college banner.A UCLA banner.He wasn't a Trojans donor, he never had Trojans season tickets, and if he had any Trojans memories, he kept them to himself.Jim Sterkel Court."I have no idea who put his name on there," says his wife. "And I have no idea why."A most amazing story in this city of stars, a sports centerpiece decorated in average, laced in ordinary, painted in a nobody.
Or was he?This tale, like many Hollywood tales, starts quietly, in the suburbs, in adolescence.
Two boys meet at Mark Keppel High in Alhambra. One likes to play sports, the other likes to watch sports, and together they become as one, chasing fun and fear and dreams.
They attend separate junior colleges, but remain close. When they both enroll in USC in the fall of 1955, they become roommates.One is a 6-foot-7, 230-pound center named Jim Sterkel.The other, for reasons you will understand later, is Anonymous.Anonymous was the businessman, Sterkel was the jock, and it was through sports that Anonymous best understood his friend."Jim came home from a game at USF one time with two black eyes," Anonymous said. "It took him a while to admit that he had taken just two shots, and that Bill Russell had blocked both of them right back in his face."It was then that Anonymous realized Sterkel's honesty and lack of ego, something his teammates already knew."The thing everyone remembers most about Jim was, he was just a real good-natured guy," said former Trojans guard Ken Walker. "There was not a mean bone in his body."After scoring all of nine baskets in his junior year, Sterkel was voted the team's most improved player in his senior year, averaging 9.6 points and 8.6 rebounds."He was never a great player, no," said Anonymous. "But he was the kind that kept showing up."After their senior years, the roommates set upon vastly different courses of life, but never strayed too far.Anonymous became a business tycoon, while Sterkel became a suburban salesman and church leader, yet they still met for family dinners, fishing trips and pep talks on the phone.Sterkel was the kind of guy who didn't smoke, didn't swear, and would lead his church in services and on its basketball courts.He was the kind of guy neighbors phoned if they needed a television fixed or pipe unclogged. Giant and bespectacled and always smiling, he was the kind of guy who hugged everyone.Anonymous was the kind of guy who, while leading a faster-paced life, gained strength from Sterkel's daily consistency."It's hard to find friends who last a lifetime," Anonymous recalled. "For me, Jim was that guy."When Sterkel retired from Johnson Wax, Anonymous hired him for a job at his company.When Sterkel first noticed a lump in his testicles, he told Anonymous, who immediately drove him to the doctor for the beginning of his long and fatal relationship with cancer.While Sterkel was dying, Anonymous' young son also contracted cancer. Sterkel wrote Anonymous a poem, sealed it, and ordered it only to be read if Anonymous' son died.
Less than two years after Sterkel's death, Anonymous' son died of leukemia. He unsealed and read the poem. He said he still feels its imprint today."I'll never forget that he took the time out of his own life during his final days to do this for me, to try to inspire my life even when he was losing his own life," Anonymous said.
It was this inspiration that Anonymous remembered when he was approached by USC with an offer to make a donation to put his name on the new court.He could have given the school his son's name. Most people would have given their own name.Instead, he wrote a check for about $5 million and gave the name of Jim Sterkel."Some people don't deserve to be forgotten," Anonymous said. "Maybe this will keep him around a little longer."At first, USC officials were stunned. Then, they were moved."A great example of the Trojan family," said Mike Garrett, athletic director.Anonymous had only one request, that the donation be forever nameless, so USC refused to provide me with his name.Even once I figured it out, Anonymous did not answer repeated interview requests for this story until he was finally promised that it would not include his name."The joy I have in remembering Jim would be significantly reduced if people knew who I was,'' he said.When he finally agreed to the interview, my first question had been rolling around in my gut for a week."So what exactly did Jim Sterkel do for you to warrant this incredible honor?" I asked. "Did he give you a kidney? Did he pull you out of a burning car?"Anonymous sighed."He did much more than that," he said. "He was my friend."
Some might think that Jim Sterkel's name was placed on the court not only for his memory, but for his family.Well, Anonymous still hasn't told the family.When I contacted them about the court, they had no idea. They had not read about it in the newspapers, or seen it on the USC website, or heard the buzz on the blogs.Jill, a former Olympic gold medal swimmer, began crying. She politely excused herself, hung up the phone, and we talked later."My dad was never famous, he never cared about that," she said. "He was just a good guy and a great parent."
Upon hearing the news, Joanne also wept in disbelief.After her initial shock, she figured out that there could be only one possible donor, and she correctly identified him, but she remained puzzled.
"He was such a good husband, such a good man, but do people really notice those things anymore?" she said of Jim.Anonymous knew the family well — photos of him and Jim are on the several walls of the house — but he said he just didn't want to call attention to the gift.In fact, he hasn't even spoken to the family since Jim's death.Noting that Joanne attended UCLA, he said, "I thought it might be neat if she first saw the name when she was watching the Bruins play at Galen Center on television."Actually, the family has not yet made any plans to see the court.And USC, honoring the donor's anonymity, has no plans to contact them in this regard."We're just happy that a good person like Jim Sterkel can be remembered on our campus in perpetuity," said Don Winston, the university's associate athletic director and fund-raising whiz. "We've heard a lot of folks saying, 'Who's Jim Sterkel?' Now they will know."Some folks are asking that question angrily.There is talk in some USC circles that the naming of the court should not have been sold, but rather given to a former Trojans basketball hero like Bill Sharman, Tex Winter or Paul Westphal.After all, John Wooden's name is on the UCLA court, and Lute Olson's name is on the Arizona court.To which Anonymous says, "If you have a friend for 50 years, isn't that big enough?"And it is. Of course it is.In a town where sidewalks are filled with the names of people famous for acting like someone else, what is wrong with celebrating the name of someone who was great at just being himself?In a town where five percent of the people are stars and the rest of them are like us, what's wrong with celebrating us?A most amazing story in this city of stars, a sports centerpiece decorated in average, laced in ordinary, painted in a nobody.Gosh, it's beautiful.

Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Plaschke, go to latimes.com/plaschke.

(I downloaded the pictures of Jim and of the court, but I can't get them on the blog. Email me if you can't find them on the Internet.)

The complete article can be viewed at: http://www.latimes.com/sports/columnists/la-sp-plaschke5nov05,1,599410.column?coll=la-headlines-sports-columnists