There are ghosts in the Barrio. Oddly enough they don’t appear on Dia de Los Muertos (the Day of the Dead) as often as one might imagine. As if thinking about ancestors could keep them in their proper place. But they surprise on ordinary days. They are heard behind laughter at Pine Park gatherings. They are in the wispy aroma of freshly made tortillas. Sometimes their spectral form is caught just as the lights come up on Chase Field or their presence is felt as you grab the door to Lola’s like you have 100 times before.

If a sense of place was once removed for the first generation of immigrants fleeing the Mexican Revolution, it was a sense of culture for the second and third. It was not lost. It was not unappreciated. But the melting pot has had its effect on every culture it absorbed. Like the English language that evolves and borrows, so American culture morphs and makes use of all it welcomes. San Francisco has its Asian fragrance, New York has its Irish law enforcement and Miami has its Cuban cuisine. Just so, Southern California has a Mexican voice.

At the end of World War II the Carlsbad Barrio was changing. The city was growing. The patriarchs and matriarchs remained, but their children and childrens’ children were buying homes on Garfield or Chinquapin or just a little farther down Jefferson than the Barrio proper. It was still Carlsbad. And as Carlsbad would go, so went the Barrio.

In the late ’50s and early ’60s Carlsbad’s school district would build new schools. Pine was no longer the only elementary option. The small town was becoming just that much bigger. Mary Ann Mercado-Tomaro said, “If you went to Pine School you had friends forever.” The Martinez, Cruz and Muñoz families would spread out to Jefferson, Buena Vista and Magnolia. Spanish on the playground was no longer an issue. Children may have spoken Spanish at home, but English was the language of reading, writing and without an accent.

Bill Dominguez said there was a Barrio Spanish. “I speak 19th Century Spanish.” When his grandfather Bibiano Gastelum came from Arizona to Carlsbad he brought his turn of the century Spanish. Tomaro said (same granddad), “He spoke very correct, Castilian Spanish.” The Trejo, Mata, Ramirez, Montanez and Acuña families brought their own style and because the Barrio was a tight knit community, its language became locked in time. Carlsbad Spanish was just a little different than the rest of the world, sort of like Seattle Japanese or Pennsylvania German.

Whatever the language, it is childhood memories that endear us to home. The Barrio in the ’50s was like anywhere else, greased hair, crinoline skirts, and cruising. And for Carlsbadians, the beach was just about every other memory. “I was a Phil Edwards groupie,” Tomaro said of her beach days with the legendary surfer. “We followed him all the way to Dana Point one time. He was very shy, but so handsome.”

Donald Dominguez was not a bad looker and quite a surfer in his day, but “He was a cousin,” Tomaro said. “My best memories and my worst memories are of the beach. Worst because the beach used to be a block long. Then they built Oceanside Harbor and it took all the sand away.”

The beach was a constant companion in the ’60s too, “Summers were the best time,” said Joe Angel, freshman football and girls track coach at CHS and former School Board Trustee. “If you weren’t working.” He started working at nine or 10 years old, “This guy would pick us up in a van at 3:30 in the morning. He’d take us out to Camp Pendleton to sell newspapers. A couple bucks spending money back then was a lot.” Later he worked for Reyes and Lola Jauregui. “They had a big butcher block that I would clean with a wire brush.”

There was still plenty of play time. “We would play football or baseball in a big field behind Pine School. “Or we would play in the street,” Angel said. “There were no sidewalks. We would make these wood carts with a rope for steering.” In what now sounds like a CAL-OSHA nightmare he said, “We used old tricycle wheels and held them on with a bent nail. We were always in shorts and barefoot. We would take them up the hill at Chestnut and come flying down.”

“There were no snobs in Carlsbad then,” Tomaro said. “It is getting a little pretentious now” with all the new growth. Angel echoed that, “We never thought about race. No one ever even insinuated it.” If he hung out with “Cienegas, Flores, Alvarados, Tarangos, Prietos, Pachecos, Cantabranas,” as a kid it was because they were the neighbors. “In high school there were groups and cliques, but they were not ethnically based. All the parties were mixed. In fact, Buddy Lewis lived on Harding for awhile.”

When things started to boil in Vietnam the Barrio was ready, once again, to send its sons to serve. But like the rest of the country some Barrio youth were not without their counter culture cringe at the idea of being drafted. “I signed up,” Angel said, “But I was too heavy.” He was still carrying the extra pounds he had pumped up to play football for Swede Krcmar. “I lost the weight but never got the call.”

For the Mata boys in the ’70s, it was a Carlsbad life. Tony Mata, Sr. said, “Every morning my sons would go different directions. Anthony would get on his skateboard and go west to the beach and surf; Steve would get on his bike and go east to golf at Rancho Carlsbad.” They both had their pro days. But Tony Mata, Jr. fondly remembers neighborhood ways. “There was always a game going at Chase you could get in. Then of course there was the Boys Club. We’d have sleepovers and field trips. That’s were we all met, though we were all backdoor related.”

“Oh and we had a gang,” Mata, Jr. smiled. “The Harding Street Gang.” Drugs, tagging, violence? “Nothing like that,” Mata, Jr. laughed. “We had a club house in the back and my dad would take us camping out where the new golf course is. Dad and his friends would play guitars by the campfire and me and my friends would play horseshoes.” Mata, Sr. said they would take, “Fifteen to 25 kids camping every three weeks. We’d make a breakfast better than any restaurant.”

As the Barrio’s WWII generation created their own baby boom, they wanted better things for their kids than they had during the Depression. The community pulling together brought positive changes. It is a Carlsbad tradition. It is a Barrio tradition. In the ’50s, an old church was acquired on Roosevelt Street and renovated to become the home of the Boys Club (now the Boys and Girls Clubs).

The men who had grown up playing sandlot ball wanted their boys to play on grass. Chase Field was built in the ’60s on donated land, with donated materials and lots of volunteer man power.

Pine School closed as a school in 1999 and then became the district offices until they moved out to El Camino Real. Now that area is the Senior Center and Pine Park. The city built a stage in Pine Park because when Holiday Park lacked a bandstand, Ben Acuña got the donation, volunteer wheels rolling to get one built. Music has always had its own place in the Barrio.

In the ’70s the city rezoned part of the Barrio for industry.Mostly on Tyler Street along the railroad tracks. This urbanized the mostly residential areas. Homes still had gardens, but the last of the farm fields were lost. The Barrio habit of coming together to help one another was not just for community projects, but individual families as well. Angel said, “I drive by houses and remember when it was built. These guys did the roof, that guy did the electrical. Everyone contributed. That’s how houses got built.” Many of the houses built that way
in the ’20s and ’30s with outhouses and without foundations were torn down and rebuilt in the ’70s with the same neighborhood effort.

The ’80s was a bit of rough patch in Barrio growth. Some areas were blighted with graffiti while others were rundown. It was time for a more homogenous plan for the Barrio. In the ’90s, a redevelopment plan was floated around by some land owners and the city, but was put on hold at the 11th hour mostly due to property owner skittishness. Councilman Matt Hall said, “The Barrio plan was fairly sophisticated, but was somewhat onerous to property owners.” Some felt the architectural style requirements were too limiting.

Socorro Anderson and Mario Monroy are now working on a new plan. Hall said, “I’m very proud of the work they’re doing. I’m very appreciative.” Monroy said part of the problem in the Barrio is the size of the lots. Back when Alex La Betta bought up land and built small houses, as many prospective buyers were riding horses as driving cars. Some of the lots are only 25 by 140 feet wide. Hall pointed out “The standard garage is now 20-22 feet. That leaves some houses frozen in time.” Monroy said, “There is no economic incentive to rebuild; if you can’t put two units on the property there is no economic advantage.” The new plan calls the height limit to go from 35 feet to 45 and for more units per acre.

“There are a lot more young people with kids moving in, which is awesome,” Mata, Jr. said from his Harding home. “I like the way it’s changing. You see kids on bikes riding up and down just like we used to do with our Big Wheels.” Angel said, “Nothing is ever going to stay the same. You can’t stop progress. For the most part, it is still a close knit community.” The more things change, the more they stay the same I guess.

Keeping the community close was the idea behind throwing a giant neighborhood party every year. The Fiesta Del Barrio was born over a cup of coffee at Lola’s. Every generation is guardian of its culture. Like Tet up in Little Saigon or the Scottish Highland Games in Vista, the Fiesta is a way to honor the past with a new tradition.

Every September, whatever barrio you live in, the Barrio invites you their party. Ofie Escobedo said, “For Barrio residents who have moved away it gives them a time when they know everyone will be coming together.” For all of Carlsbad it is an opportunity to eat tacos and taste history. There is old music, new music and dancing in the streets for old locals and new natives. Vendor booths line the heart of the Barrio for the thousands who come. No self-respecting Carlsbadian would miss it. It is the best way we celebrate diversity.

There are ghosts in the Barrio. They are heard in certain trumpet intervals. They come to mind in the smell of breakfast down the street. They are seen dancing in the dust of a Santa Ana wind. They are the specters of our memory and the glimmers of a future hope. •