Ancestors
I got some of this from Ancestry.com. Some comes from my cousin John and other cousins, some documents, and some from my memory.
Don't really know how to organize all this. Vaguely follow paternal first, but not really. I just tried to keep the generations orderly.
Arnulfo and Enedina
My dad was born April 7, 1920 in Manzanillo, Colima, Mexico.
His name was Arnulfo. White people called him Art, family and others called him Chato.
My mom was born January 14,1923 in Sombrerete, Zacatecas, Mexico. Her name was Enedina. White people called her Nadine, family called her Annie.
My dad moved to Los Angeles when he was 5, in 1925. He, his mother, and sister were a second family, and they left town in a hurry. Or they left because of religious persecution. His father sent them to live with his family in L A.
My mom came to L A soon after her birth in 1923. Her mom was also a second wife. They lived in the U S from my tia Josefina's birth in late 1923 until his death in 1931.
More of that story below.
My mom’s birth certificate said she was of "Blue Blood." It also says her mother was "Soltera." What does that mean? asks I, I don't know, it’s not important, she answered. Soltera means single.
In their late 20s my mom and dad both were in a large circle of friends. My mom's oldest brother Tony was the alpha male, her 2 other brothers were in there as well.
My mom was considered attractive, she never had a job. She lived with her mother.
My dad lived with his mother.
In 1949, when he was 29 and she was 26, all of their friends and siblings had gotten married. The story they told was that they decided to get married, but didn't want to tell their mothers. They made a plan to drive to Yuma, Arizona that didn't require a residency or waiting period, get married, and drive back home.
My dad showed up 4 hours late, just like him, and my mom was in a fury. She threw her high heel shoe at him, hit him on the forehead, hit an artery, and he sprayed blood everywhere in the living room. My grandmother told me this story and found it hilarious. After patching him up, off to Yuma, then back to their mother's houses. They didn't announce that they were married for 3 months.
I have a theory. I think she was pregnant. But then, no birth.
I was born in 1953. I think she had at least two more miscarriages before I was born, and at least 2 more after me.
See Dr. Burkholder on page 37.
Neither of my parents were happy people, and they weren't happy with each other. They almost divorced when I was 9. And again 30 years later.
My dad had plans and dreams. He wanted to buy houses, move in, fix it, and flip it. My mom vetoed houses, some nice ones, properties that would have been a good investment. Then, Lee St, my dad bought it cheap, we moved in, then mom and brother refused to move again. My dad’s dream was crushed. Even buying next door didn't work for my mom. His dream was to move to Mexico. We almost did when I was 9, but that dream was also crushed.
See the story on page 9.
My dad was fully there when I needed him, and hardly there at all when I didn’t. When I really needed him he was heroic, he went above and beyond. Most of the rest of the time he ignored me.
My mom was either distant or cruel.
I have many happy memories of my dad. To name a very few; drives to Tijuana, see page 9, stinkin’ badges on page 43, long Sunday drives listening to The Boston Pops, opera, 40s music, on the car radio, see page 14. Going out for good food. Motorcycle rides. Helping him study for his real estate license. Watching old movies.
He had a real estate, income tax, scribe office on Brooklyn Ave. He wrote and translated English for Spanish speakers. For the illiterate he read and wrote letters and documents and filled out forms.
I only have one truly pleasant happy memory of my mom. About a year before she died she was in a nursing hospital. She had a feeding tube. I went to visit her, she held my hand, she wanted to know about each of the kids. When I left she told me she loved me, the first time since I was little. The next time I visited they were working on her plumbing and the nurse asked me to wait. She told my mom, Your son is here. She said, Oh, good. When I did go in to see her, she sneered at me and said, "Oh, it's you."
It was years before I knew how deeply that hurt. I talked to her on the phone for birthdays and Christmas, but I didn't see her again until the day before she died, and she was unconscious.
My dad called one afternoon. My brother was there visiting but was going out the door. My dad asked me to come over, but I was working, writing on a deadline on the computer, and I really couldn't. Still, we talked for about an hour. He wanted to know about work. He wanted to know in detail about each of the kids. We talked about life, the universe, and everything. When we hung up he went to the bathroom and died. Then I went to his house.
True to himself, he was late to his funeral.
He died in July of 1999.
My mom died in January of 2007.
My dad wanted me to take over his office, I wasn't interested. Much later I was amazed how much That Yarn Store was like his office.
Maternal Grand Parents
Federico Bañales (1900 - 1931) and Leonor Ramirez (1907-1972)
Leonor had two sisters, Dolores and Petra, and both had gotten married.
When Leonor was 15 she ran off with Federico, 22, who was already married. Within a year my mom was born at her mother's house in Mexico, and 9 months later my Aunt Josefina was born in Los Angeles on Camulos Street.
Federico was involved with the construction of the Sears building on Soto and Olympic, still the largest square footage of any building in L A, I think he was the labor contractor. He also did something in the making of Union Station.
They lived on Boyle Street, a couple of blocks from Olympic, a freeway now covers the spot. When he was working on Union Station they lived in what is now Chinatown on Yale Street. The pedestrian bridge is a bit south of where their house was. I think my tia Maria was born at the French American Hospital, the building on Hill and College Street was torn down in early 2026. Third daughter Maria (Eliza) died very young. Many years later Leonor had a heart attack and had an experience that Maria met her and was helping her toward the light.
I think they went on to Oakland next. My tio Tony was born there. I don't know what Federico was working on, I do know there were relatives in the area. They lived in the hills in Oakland, not far from the zoo, and they were doing well. They bought a new car, and they had the first washing machine on the block.
I think they went somewhere else after that, but I don't know where.
Then they went to Chicago. Federico and his aunt owned, or maybe just the aunt owned, a hotel on State Street, on the Southside. I believe at the time it was a Polish neighborhood. My tio Lalo was born there.
They sold the hotel just before the crash in 1929. His aunt bought a ranch by a river in Mexico. The next year it was wiped out by a flood.
My grandparents stayed in Chicago. I recently learned from my cousin John, that in 1930, Federico was sentenced to prison for being in possession of the gun that killed a police man. He was released early because his chest was caved in during an attack in prison. He returned to Chicago to find Leonor had just had a baby, my uncle Carlos. He did the arithmetic, and he discerned that he had not been available nine months before. Then somehow he figured out that a cousin had been sniffing around and was the father of the baby. Always the shrewd one, my grandmother decided to get out of town and got on a train with the newborn to Mexico. I’ve wondered who she left the other kids with. My grandfather confronted his cousin, and in the fracas that ensued, Federico was stabbed. Instead of taking care of his wound, he got on a train and chased my grandmother. I believe he died on the train, or at least that’s the story I think I heard. Found a death certificate that says he died in Durango, Mexico on October 10, 1931. Birth certificate says Carlos was born October 11, 1931 in El Paso, Texas. Leonor was clever about birth certificates. He was probably born on October 7
This is story that my cousins and I put together from various sources.
Years later, in Bakersfield, a mysterious Pablo Bañales, a relative, showed up and wanted to meet my uncle Carlos and all the kids. I heard it was an awkward meeting.
Ancestry.com confirmed that my Bakersfield cousins are my half first cousins. They have always felt to me like siblings, and in a very funny way, this news brought me closer to them. I don’t understand it, but I really do feel it.
We joke that their grandfather killed my grandfather.
Leonor returned to Mexico with all the children, and went to the Bañales family for help, but they turned her away. My mother forever held a grudge and wanted nothing to do with them.
Leonor was 23 years old, and wanted a life, so she left her kids with her mother Rebecca. She got married a couple of times. She returned for the kids before the war and moved to Los Angeles.
Around 1963 she married for the fifth time. Juan Ruiz was the only grand father I ever knew. He was a kind and good man. He died about 15 years later. Here is a bit about him.
Paternal Grand Parents
Jose Orozco, Ana M Brizuela (1895-1972)
I really don’t know much about my grandfather. I met him once and I didn’t like him. Here is that story here.
I know that he lived in Ensenada, and there is a part of town named Orozco in Ensenada, I’ve always assumed this was a family area, but I don’t know.
My grandmother Anita (Ana), I also don’t know much about her. She was not a woman who shared.
I had always assumed that something happened that made the “marriage” impossible. I have suspected that my grandmother and her two children were a second family. I figured the shit may have hit, and it was time to get out of town. I remember that they took a Japanese freighter from Manzanillo to Los Angeles. They came here to live with and be supported by my grandfather‘s family who had been living in Los Angeles since the 1890s.
But in reviewing this story with Sarah, she came up with a different possibility. Since my grandmother was a Super Catholic, it is possible that she was suffering persecution during the great Mexican Catholic Purge that came to its ugly worse only a year after they left Mexico. This puts a little different spin into the story.
Some more about her here
Great Grandparents
Pedro Ramirez and Rebecca Moya Moreno, Leonor’s parents.
He is the father in one of my favorite stories.
See a story about a horse.
Rebecca was one of 24 children, from three mothers. She had three daughters, Petra, Dolores (Lola), and my grandmother Leonor. She raised the 20 children of her three daughters, who were all widowed.
She was beloved by everyone I ever talked to who knew her.
When Hana was about five years old we went to Bakersfield for a visit. When my tio Carlos saw her, he broke into tears. He said Hana looked just like his grandmother.
Rebecca died when I was almost three. I’m not sure I remember her, but think I do remember liking to be around her. And I remember the grief and mourning when she died.
Federico’s parents, Eulalio Bañales (b 1880), Agustina Vasques
I know nothing about them.
Paternal Great Grandparents
I know nothing about my paternal great grandfather. As a child I talked many times with my great grandmother, but I know nearly nothing about her. I know she didn’t speak Spanish or English. I know my father loved her very much.
A story with her on page
Because of my DNA profile, I believe that my grandmother Anita’s father was African.
It seems her maternal family had been in Manzanillo forever.
Great Great Grandparents
Rebecca’s parents
Miguel Moreno, Sebastiana Mena (1846-1888, third wife)
My grandmother, and her sisters, told me how their mother told them, about a grand wedding. Festivities went on for a week. When the party was over, the food bill came, the lodging bill came, the servants were paid. When it came to pay the musicians, there was no more currency. They were paid, generously by the papa, with bags of gold.
I don’t know whose wedding this was.
I once saw my dad’s birth certificate, only one time, and I believe it said that his great grandfather Orozco was born in Spain.
Great Great Great Grandparents
Sebastiana’s father. Torbino Mena Arciniega. (1812 1888)
Mother. María Refugio Rodríguez. (1815- )
Miguel’s father. Martín Moreno Reyes (1803-1868)
Emperor Maximiliano of Mexico, from 1864 to 1867, an Austrian, appointed by Napoleon lll.
Members of my family were in his court, according to the family story I remember. There isn’t much I have found to verify this.
I am going to try to find Mena information. They may actually be Mier.
Roman Orozco! 3rd great. Roman was not born in Spain.
My dad and I saw this on his birth certificate a few years after nephew Roman was born! Mario and Beth didn’t know. .
I believe it was in this generation when 3 brothers from Basque, from the town of Los Baños in the Pyrenees, now on the French side, came to this side of the Atlantic.
They gave themselves the last name of Bañales (of baños).
Don’t know the original name.
One brother came to California, and founded the town of
Los Baños, California. That town is filled with Bañales.
Another brother went to Monterey, or Durango, Mexico. He went into mining.
The third went to Zacatecas, to be my ancestor.
Great Great Great Great Grandparents
Parents of Martin, Francisco Moreno Rey, Manuela Reyes
Great Great Great Great Great Grandparents
Francisco.
Father José Trinidad Mena. 1770-
Mother María Josefa Arciniega. 1771-1813
Great Great Great Great Great Great Grandparents
José’s parents Manuel Antonio Mena Morales, Maria Ysabel
Here I have to include the story my dad‘s mother told me when I was a kid. She said that her city was the biggest city on the West Coast of the Americas centuries ago. That city did trade with Japan 400 years ago, and with China 800 years ago. When I shared this bit of history with my teachers, they all said it wasn’t true. But since then, there have been Chinese anchors found off the coast of California, and centuries-old Japanese shipwrecks found all along the coast.
I want to believe my grandmother.
Until I was about 25, people from Japan used to come up to me and start speaking to me. I’ve been asked by many doctors, most of them Asian, if I was part Asian. I have a full epicanthic fold. For much of my life, my earwax has been gray. My thighs are short.
We are the result of the love of thousands