Everyone Loved Ole
by 1970 Ohlones Alum Erika Berg, 5/31/24
Ole (“oh-leh”) was our custodian at (1953-74, misspelled with an “s”) Ohlones* Elementary School on E. Charleston Rd. Stumbling upon a recent video of our old schoolhouse being bulldozed stirred up memories of my years at Ohlones, 1964-1970, including how well Ole took care of that building – and us. He was the heart and soul of our community, a beacon of light, who greeted everyone, individually, with a warm smile and was always ready to lend a hand. Curious if other Ohlone(s) alum remembered, I posted to the “Our Town of Palo Alto” Facebook group an Ohlone staff photo, circling Ole. Within moments…
Grant Lichtman: “For some reason I was tasked with coming to school early in 5th and 6th grades and every morning Ole and I would raise the flag up the flagpole in front of the office. It was quite a few minutes I got to spend with him each day. A real treat.”
Kelly Oblak Schoof: “Ole was such a kind soul. Remember the old blue truck he drove?”
Julie Navejas: “Ole was the best! He sanded and primed all of the school poles during his time off so that our Girl Scout Troop #25 could paint them rainbow stripes.”
Mark Gerow (1964-70): “I remember Ole was always there to put more air in a kickball.”
Orit Riskin (1966-73): “My mother was a substitute teacher for the school district and had no one to leave me with when she was called at the last minute to sub and had to bring me to school 15 to 20 minutes early. Ole let me follow him around until school started. He was so nice. I loved ‘helping’ him with his duties until the bell rang.”
Kerry Ann Solie (K-6, Class of ‘66): “I remember Ole as being so kind and seemed genuinely interested in all the students.”
Lawra Joseph Duy: “Ole was the guy who always opened the ball closet for us, always said hello, always quietly supported us.”
Dara Jenkins Nelson (1968-75): “Ole was just the sweetest man. I remember one day late in the day I was riding my bike home from Winter Club and my pants got stuck in the chain and I went a** over tea kettle right in front of Ohlone. Ole came running over to check if I was okay. I stayed and talked to him for a bit until I was ready to climb onto my bike again.”
Marilyn Hanan Ferguson (K-6, Class of ’66): “Ole was always so kind and helpful. He would talk to me as an individual. I have always remembered his kindness… I loved Ole. He was my favorite staff.”
Leah Maxwell Cohen: “I don’t remember anything specific about Ole except that he was so friendly, always helpful, smiled and said hello to all of us. He was just a calm presence on campus.”
Gabrielle Noerdinger (1964-70): “Some of us more mischievous kids were throwing paper towel wads at the bathroom ceiling. Ole caught us and didn't tell!”
Shawna Westly Nielsen (1968-75): “I remember a particularly bad day in 5th grade when I was asked to shut the windows on my way out and I mistakenly threw the high window pusher through the window and Ole came and cleaned it up. No harsh words, no big concern, just always there, cleaning up after us and helping when needed.”
Kristin Holmes Powell (1969-78): “I remember Ole well. He was kind and patient and an integral part of the Ohlone family.”
Leslie Holzman: “Ole used to let all of us pull on the key ring he had on his belt, so of course it eventually broke. Becky Warnock and I bought him a new one at the little hardware store on Charleston… He was very pleased… He was so nice and sweet to all the kids. He made each of us feel special.”
Christine Burtis: “Ole was great, I feel so bad now for joining the kids in calling him ‘Ole Ravioli’.”
Hugh Byme (1966-73): “Our home backed up against the alley to the school, and I would see and greet Ole with his old blue pickup well-before school and late afternoons during the week on my trips to and from Mitchell Park, and even occasionally on Saturdays. He was unfailingly kind, and patient when my curiosity led me to want to know more about every item on every shelf in his closet.”
Hillary Johnson: “Ole always had a smile. I remember him greeting and interacting with everyone… truly an unofficial ambassador of Ohlone.”
Jennifer Wales-Bedrossian (1969-75): “Ole is a great memory in my life… I was very shy and at times that could be difficult. He helped me and brought encouragement many times. I am so glad to hear he was a blessing to so many and at the same time I am not surprised!”
Me neither. Everyone loved Ole.
Hillary’s description of Ole as “an unofficial ambassador of Ohlone” was spot-on. Ole’s job title failed to reflect the rainbow of ways in which he uplifted and unified our community. Ole did more, way more than keep everything clean and safe and operating properly... Then again, I just looked up the origin of the word “custodian.” It comes from the Latin “custos,” meaning “guardian.” As for “Lara”? It means “protection, a spirit of joy.” How apropos. No one was more welcoming, caring, or inclusive than Ole.
That reminds me of “the twins.” Bobby and Ricky joined us in 1st Grade. Bobby in my class with Mrs. Frost; Ricky, in the other 1st Grade class. They had moved into the rundown, seemingly abandoned Victorian one door east of Ohlones. Ole would have welcomed them. He had a way of making you feel special, giving you his undivided attention. As if following Ole’s lead, I befriended the twins. At the time, our family lived at the west end of Ohlones, at E. Charleston & Carlson, within skipping distance of the twins’ house. I can recall the three of us painting flowers on rocks and peddling our creations along Charleston.
At school, I would get upset, occasionally lash out, when kids made fun of Bobby and Ricky for wearing torn and holey jeans – before that was fashionable. One day, the twins stopped showing up, they vanished. Shortly thereafter, the Victorian was leveled. For the longest time I wondered what had happened to them. Kids could be mean. I am reminded of what Christine wrote about how kids teased Ole, calling him “Ole Ravioli.” An immigrant from Mexico in a town that – in 1960 – was 95.4% white, Ole must have had an extra-special place in his heart for the twins. He knew what it felt like to be othered.
A favorite quotation of mine from Elizabeth Kübler-Ross just came to mind: “The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These people have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern.”
What was Ole’s story, the source of his humanity? Wasn’t until I befriended Bobby and Ricky that I recognized the luck of my draw. Still, I never wondered about Ole’s life outside the little world we shared at Ohlones. Yesterday I imagined myself sitting with Ole, sharing our outpouring of appreciation and then asking: When and how did you leave Mexico? Most importantly, why? Where do you live? Did you marry? Do you have children? Oh, and how did you – luckily for us! – end up at Ohlones? Before I knew it, I was searching newspapers.com, familysearch.org, ancestry.com, and Google for answers…
Ole, short for Olegario Guerrero Lara, was born at home on March 6, 1922, to Jose Apolinar Lara and Catalina Guerrero. His paternal grandparents were Jose Carmen Lara and Manuela Gutierrez; his maternal grandparents, Porfirio Guerrero and Francisca Rojas. Ole grew up in the agricultural village of his birth, San Francisco del Rincόn in the state of Guanajuato in central Mexico. According to the 1930 Census, Ole was soon joined by a sister and brother, Esperanza and Carlos. Looks like Ole’s family was close-knit. Lots of extended family, including Ole’s godparents Bernardino Espinoza and Rosario Guerrero, lived next door.
Researching the history of Ole’s village, I learned that one of the bloodiest civil wars Mexico has ever known, a war that embroiled central Mexico, the Cristero Rebellion, began four years after Ole was born. In 1926, the government suddenly enforced anti-clerical laws in the 1917 Mexican Constitution designed to limit the power and influence of the Catholic Church. Overnight, public religious worship was banned. Churches were bolted shut. And priests were prohibited from wearing clerical garb outside church.
Initially, Catholics, mostly peasants, protested peacefully. Met with contempt, the rebellion grew increasingly violent. In February 1927, the Cristeros (“Soldiers of Christ”) defeated federal troops for the first time – in Ole’s village. Soon, the tables turned. In 1929, a compromise was reached, public worship resumed – after 90,000 people had been killed. Ole’s father is missing from the 1930 Census. Was he among the 92 insurgents killed in March of 1928 near Ole’s village? Besides witnessing unimaginable horrors, had six-year-old Ole also lost his dad? Was that why his godparents lived next door?
Religious persecution didn’t end until 1940 when a practicing Catholic became President of Mexico. Meanwhile, WWII had started. Wartime industries monopolized U.S. workers, draining low-cost agricultural labor. In 1942, the U.S. and Mexico created the Bracero (laborer) Program, enabling more than four million Mexicans to come to the U.S. as contract workers. Braceros were paid very low wages and often worked under inhumane conditions. Yet the program was so popular among both U.S. farmers and Braceros it was extended after the war, until 1964, when the abuse and exploitation of Braceros became undeniable.
At first, I wondered how Ole connected with Laura Fellows, a wealthy white landowner in Saratoga, then figured U.S. farmers and Braceros were matched by the Bracero Program. After crossing the U.S.-Mexico border at El Paso, Ole, like all Braceros, would have been searched for contraband and then undergone fumigation for lice with DDT, an insecticide banned in the ‘70s for causing cancer and neurological disorders. A deep sense of duty would have propelled Ole forward. Especially if his mother was widowed. As the eldest child, he would have seen himself as a caretaker, a protector, and a role model for his younger siblings.
Bracero work permits were temporary. I’m not sure when Ole began participating in the program. But on 1/7/1952, at the age of 29, he identified on a U.S. Department of Justice Immigration and Naturalization Service Form his purpose for coming to the U.S. (“to reside permanently”), occupation (laborer), and the destination and relative or friend he’d join (“friend” Laura E. Fellows in Saratoga). The last line says Ole was previously examined and admitted in El Paso six and a half years earlier, on 7/1/45, at age 23.
Laura Fellows’ late orchardist husband, Edmund Fellows, died suddenly in 1927, eight years after purchasing 420 acres on Quito Rd, part of the 13,310-acre Rancho Quito Mexican land grant awarded to Jose Noriega in 1841. The property was considered among the finest orchards in the Santa Clara Valley. Given Laura’s vast landholdings, I imagine she relied heavily on Braceros. I read that a dozen teams set out each morning to cultivate her orchards. Presumably Ole lived on her farm with other Braceros.
Ole’s Petition for Naturalization identified his address in the U.S. (12350 Quito Rd, Saratoga), wife (Elodia nee Minjares, born in Del Rio, TX on 3/22/1935, married to Ole in Reno, NV on 8/23/1957), child (Angelina, born in San Jose, CA on 7/6/1958), and occupation (gardener). And said he had resided continuously in the U.S. since 1/7/1952. Ole’s prolonged employment at Rancho Quito suggests he proved to be invaluable to Laura Fellows. Perhaps she sponsored his immigration, paving the way for his U.S. citizenship.
I couldn’t determine what led Ole to Ohlones, but sense from stories shared by other alum that he was hired around the time Dr. Christiansen became Ohlones’ principal, 1963. As for when Ole left Ohlone? The most recent Ohlone staff photo with Ole I could find was dated 1986, so he worked at Ohlone(s) for at least 23 years. Hopefully on his last day he was celebrated and honored for the thousands of hearts he touched at Ohlone(s). Ole died at the age of 91 on 4/14/2013, almost 12 years after Elodia died on 7/6/2001. Ole and Elodia are buried together at Madronia Cemetery in Saratoga.
The more I discovered about Ole’s life beyond Ohlones, the more I wished I knew a descendant of his. Entering Ole’s name and “Saratoga” into Google, up popped 2004 testimony from 83-year-old Ole and his daughter, Elizabeth (originally Angelina?) Lara, to the Saratoga Planning Commission. They were trying to protect a 110’ Redwood from a neighbor who wanted to chop down the tree, claiming it crowded his driveway and the sidewalk and threatened a gas line (easily rerouted). Ole said he had lived across from the tree for 40 of the 60 years he had lived in Saratoga. When asked by a commissioner what kind of tree could replace the Redwood, Ole said the old Redwood was irreplaceable. My heart sang. Back in 1970, when I was 12, my dad and I campaigned to save the 500-year-old great Oak in the lot behind our home in south Palo Alto, when we were living in Walnut Grove. Winning over the Palo Alto Planning Commission, our petition blocked developer Joseph Eichler. I hope Ole and Elizabeth won too.
If, by chance, anyone knows Elizabeth or any of Ole’s other descendants, please invite them to email me at erikacberg1@gmail.com. I would be delighted to meet them and have a lot more to share.
* Several years before the spelling of “Ohlones” was finally corrected, Michael Galvan, an Ohlone Indian, stopped by the Ohlones office to say that if they really wanted to honor the first people of this land, they should drop the “s” and call the school “Ohlone.” More precisely, the Muwekma Ohlone.
Thanks for doing all the research and sharing the information on Ole.
Great article about our beloved Ole. Thank you Erika!
What a wonderful article on our beloved Ole. Thank you Erika!