Autobiographical Murals

An Autobiography Illustrated in Ceramic Murals

One of Granizo's most amazing creations was the late 1980"s series of autobiographic panels illustrating memorial events of his life. Each of the 105 panels is 3 feet by 3 feet composed of ceramic tile paintings. Each painting in his life series evolved as a result of these different events that influenced his creativity. The story starts with him growing up in a Latin culture while other panels depict significant periods in his life as an adult.
Below you will find the entire collection of individual paintings that make up the autobiography of Granizo's life illustrated in murals.

Granizo's family recently compiled a book which includes the stories associated with each of the murals below. These stories were written by Granizo in his own words.
The book is available in the "Book" tab above.

MOST OF THE MURALS IN THIS SECTION ARE AVAILABLE FOR SALE

The Story Teller
The purpose of these notes is to explore the birth and development of my creativity. Intertwined are incidents which altered the course that led to who I am today plus other situations that could have altered the path. These pages also explore synchronicity or coincidences in my life the
keep me alert to the reasons why I am here.
It all started thousands of years ago. It grew out of the mythology, poetry, sculptures, drawings, songs and dances of centuries past. Some had greater influence than others such as the Three Fates who wove the tapestries of the lives of legendary Greeks. In so doing they stirred my mind into visualizing a fantasy of these weavers guiding threads into a pattern to be called "The Story Teller".
My desire to tell stories first lured me to a typewriter. But, like the Fates, my creativity required a visual medium.

Baptism of Creativity
Every drop of perspiration from the brow of creative people will eventually go to the clouds and become the part of rain that gives us rainbows. With all the countless centuries of man inhabiting earth, the celestial fluid grows. Now each raindrop that touches me serves as a baptismal experience in the presence of artists, sculptors, authors, minstrels, builders or gentle day dreamers of centuries gone by.

 Popol Vuh
Many ancient books were written to praise heroes, relate history to instruct those of the future, to set morals, and to assure entrance into heaven. The Bible is read by many who abide by its teachings. Even those who have not read it are affected by its standards. I am one of those non-readers aware of the influence on my morality and creativity. Have I not visualized Jonah in a whale shaped submarine? Many of my ceramic paintings illustrating both testaments that may be found in churches and private homes. The Bibles are among man's creative writings. The Popol Vuh is a wonderful example of man's imagination.

Columbus
An event which affected all of mankind was the defeat of Boabdil, the last of the Moorish rules in Spain. Rather than to have his palace, the Alhambra, be destroyed, he surrendered to Ferdinand and Isabella. This paved the way for Columbus' voyage discovering a new world. Would have I been born had this not happened? There is Toltec and /or Chibcha blood in my veins.

Wondrous Offerings
The Americas gave us countless wondrous offerings. Among these were new foods which in later years saved masses from starvation. Perhaps a forefather's life was extended by the new diet thus continuing the lineage of who I am. But I owe more to the pre-Columbian besides beans, corn, chilies, potatoes, vanilla, chocolate, tapioca, pineapple, avocado, and so much more. Their writings, carvings and colorful dress became a part of my creativity.

Synchronicity
There is a synchronicity with the State of Sonora, Mexico for often that part of Mexico has crossed my life. Anza, the founder of San Francisco, was born and died in Sonora. I placed him in his final resting place. William Walker from Tennessee, once tried conquering Sonora as Houston did with Texas. Eventually he took over Nicaragua with the aid of the Conservators, my great grandfather's political party. Two Mexican presidents were born in Sonora. They too help mold who I am.

World War I
So many wars preceded me. How many lineages have been terminated since the first tribal fight? How many poets, artists, composers never bloomed? Wars became the means of exterminating fatherhood. A broken back kept my dad from World War One; an uninjured back would have qualified him for death in battle. My personal injuries in WW II had me receiving last rites on four occasions. I survived it for my sons and for my creativity.

Francisco Granizo
My Nicaraguan grandfather came from a wealthy family. Having sided with William Walker was beneficial to the Granizo’s. While in his teens, Francisco was sent to New York to study at Fordham University. He was a handsome young man who looked older than his years. This, and his ability to wire home for money, made him most desirable to the show girls. His mother, fearing that he would not eat properly, put him on a $100 a day allowance!

Lottie Gilson
Lottie Gilson, from London, became his steady. She was not very attractive but could sing happy, sad, and risqué songs while dancing the waltz on the stage. Large hips and big breasts earned her the title of the "Little Magnet". He called her "Annie Rooney" which was the song that she had made famous. Instead of attending school, he spent the days at Luchow's Beer Hall drinking champagne and eating pig knuckles with "Annie". There would be bouquets of yellow roses at their table. Sometimes O. Henry would stop and greet them. Their only argument was about O. Henry and Mark Twain. He favored Twain because he was outlawed at Fordham. Every evening, the center seat in the first row at the 14th Street Theater was reserved for him. These were the happiest days of his life with intentions that they would never end. But his mother got word of his lack of attendance at Fordham and the honeymoon ended. If it hadn't I would not have been born.

Raising a Family
Grandfather Francisco returned to Nicaragua where he was told to marry his cousin, Manuela. They had five children. The three boys were taught to eye the girls, including the maids, and to act like male dogs while the two girls were taught to play the piano and were kept home to assure their virginity. Grandmother was uneducated except for tutors who taught her oil painting and how to play the piano. In turn, the daughters learned the piano from the mother. Often, they would play "six hands" waltzes by Lehar and Strauss. After the death of his mother, Francisco squandered his inheritance and began to lose his political influence. Nevertheless, he was forced into exile when the "liberales" came into office. The family moved to San Francisco which, since the gold rush days, had the largest Nicaraguan population outside of Nicaragua.

A Gift of Badges
Otto Wagner and Mary Rena met on a transcontinental train that was San Francisco bound. The Wagner brothers were moving west because the eldest had a paralyzed leg and needed warmer weather. The Rena family, also for medical reasons, headed West. Mary had lost her left kidney. A misbelief that she could not bear children was an important consideration for marrying Otto. He was a boxer; thus, he would spend a lot of time on the road. He was also an alcoholic. But two boys and a girl were conceived. The only gifts he ever gave them were the badges that he stole when beating up policemen during his drunken rages. The youngest son, Joe, my father, broke his back when he was run over by a truck while riding his bicycle.

Benicia
Now synchronicity must be considered. Like my grandmother, I too lost a kidney in my youth; like dad's uncle, my left leg became paralyzed; like dad, I too spent three years in a hospital and had to wear a prosthetic for another three years. The Transcontinental Railroad Depot was in Benicia. My paternal grandparents' train had to board the largest ferry boat in the world (at Benicia) to get to San Francisco. Otto, being a boxer, must have thought about the Benicia Boy, the first heavy weight champion, especially since the Pony Express had this news on their first run which also ended in Benicia. He must have also thought about the Crgett-Choynsky bout which had recently taken place on the bay near the train depot.
This illustration, along with the following mural are a part of the History of Benicia sidewalk plaques.

Benicia Boxers
Otto, being a boxer, must have thought about the Benicia Boy, the first heavy weight champion, especially since the Pony Express had this news on their first run which also ended in Benicia. He must have also thought about the Crgett-Choynsky bout which had recently taken place on the bay near the train depot.

Joe and Dora
Shortly after the earthquake and fire, the Wagner’s returned to San Francisco after a short stay in San Jose. The Granizo’s, because of political unrest in Nicaragua, exiled themselves to San Francisco. Joe and Dora met and soon were married. It was an inopportune time because the Granizo’s were ready to return to Nicaragua. An attempt to break up the marriage failed, especially after Dorita was born. Joe expressed reliability by getting a job as a teller at the Bank of Italy (now Bank of America). Again, Dora got pregnant and with Dorita in her arms, would visit Joe's window and eat fruit at least three times a day. After being fired, he started peddling razor blades at the docks.

The Sheikh of Arabi
Rent was cheap in the unpainted housekeeping room in front of Alamo Square (the building still stands). A Valentino poster was the only wall decoration. Here I was born on March 11, 1923. It happened just before midnight. Dorita was awoken to meet her brother. Dad played their favorite tune on the Victrola "The Sheik of Arabi". Spot, our dog, was also in the room. I ignored everyone for the light bulb fascinated me. Mom said "I want to call him Rey, (Spanish for King)". Dad disagreed stating that it would be mistaken for Ray, the name of a sailor who had broken dad's nose a few years back. They agreed on Billy but mom always called me Rey.

The Origin of My Creativity
Leonardo Niemen, the Mexican artist, once told me that a person could become an artist at any age. Throughout his life man gathers information that would become beneficial in his creativity. With me it started with staring at the light bulb. Since then, every visual experience has been stored in memory cells. All the photographs that I have seen as well as every movie - silent, black and white, sound, color, wide-screen and 3D, is in there. Modern technology has added to the countless faces and situations on television. Then there are the paintings and sculptures which caught my eye. And always I'm surrounded by decorated walls, gardens and landscapes.

There is Gold In Nicaragua
Selling razor blades at the docks and cleaning uncle Vince's barbershop didn't earn dad enough to support his family. Once again mom got to support his family. Once again mom got pregnant and began complaining that life in the United States was not for her. She told dad that in Nicaragua servants worked for room and board. Grandfather agreed and began a campaign to lure his son-in-law to join the Granizo’s who were on the verge of returning home. A series of wondrous tales were concocted of how there was so much gold in Nicaragua that it seemed as if it rained gold in the days of yore. The natives made golden idols which were barely covered in old shallow graves. An industrious gringo could become rich in a couple of years.

Escape in the Night
Upon arriving in Granada, Dora and Joe learned that Francisco had kidnapped the grandson whose mother refused to return to Nicaragua. Now he wanted Joe to move on for he just wanted Dora and the children. That night, helped by two servants, the young Wagner family "escaped". Getting a job was difficult for one who did not speak Spanish. With the help of a cousin, Joe became foreman of a sugar plantation in La Pante, Nuevo Segovia. This remote area was a hide-out for General Sandino's men who were constantly under gunfire by U.S. Marines

My Brother Jerry is Born in the Jungle
They arrived at the plantation without money and no advance in pay would be given. Dad's mechanical ability was used to pick the locks at the storehouse where he appropriated a few sacks of rice and beans. Some of these he traded for coffee, evaporated milk and canned beef. A local girl wanted to be our nana and proved her worth by stealing eggs from a nearby coop. (Maria stayed with us for many years). Except for the gunfire, all was well until it came time for mom to give us a new brother. Jerry was delivered by dad with the help of Maria's mother. An infection plus the inability to nurse rushed the return to Granada.

Port Corinto
They went to Managua where mom recuperated. The song "Loca" (crazy woman) was then popular. She often said "I was the loca for allowing myself to be placed in the weird situation of giving birth in the jungles". The U.S. Marines hired dad to repair weapons. This earned him enough to take the family to the port of Corinto where he opened the American Bar. When enough was saved to purchase passage on the steamship bound for El Salvador, they left Nicaragua and began their trek back to the States. Just like in the steamship that had taken mom to San Francisco in earlier years, this one too had a piano. She spent most of her time playing "Loca" and "La Golondrina". She recalled that her mother had played the latter on that initial voyage.

Move to Guatemala City
After a brief stay in San Salvador, we moved to Guatemala City. We became a popular family because we were from the States but spoke Spanish. Mom enjoyed telling stories about our lives. Jerry, Dorita and I would huddle on the hammock and hear the tales repeated over and over. This was more fun than listening to the phonograph. Next to the hammock was a fern which was watered daily with diluted urine from the bed pans. It was almost as if the smell of urine was an inherent part of storytelling. While hospitalized during WW II a urinal was ever present beside the bed and it's smell triggered memories of stories heard while in the hammock.

Guatemala is A Happy Place
Guatemala was a happy place because mom and dad were happy. They prospered with their native crafts store at the Palace Hotel. We could afford some pleasures which, though inexpensive and insignificant, were not affordable for everyone. The carnival was the most exciting. It introduced me to ice cream. (The only tantrum that I recall was when a sore throat prevented me from being served ice cream at a party). A broken generator did not stop the carousel. They charged the little kids 5 cents to ride it and paid the bigger ones the same amount to push it. This added to the fun of it and made that first merry-go-round more memorable.

Wise Men
The first Christmas recalled was in Guatemala. Santa Claus would give us gifts at school but it was the Magi responsible for the important ones. On Christmas eve, mom and dad would also give us something special. For that night, I wanted a bean sandwich and a tamale wrapped in banana leaves. This was with the understanding that they not be shared with anyone. On the 12th night, the Wise Men, with gifts hidden in their beards, would bring me a cap pistol with a trigger and a hammer. An unexpected saw came in the same box as the hammer. Maybe in the shop down the street, where they made coffins, I could get a job.

La Piñata
Dad brought home a pack of Camel cigarettes and smoked one. He said to us "Smoking kills all the germs in your throat and so it’s good for you." Mom disagreed stating that not one Granizo had the vice nor would the Wagner’s. A friend, Clara, smoked so she ended up with the cigarettes, and since my birthday was near, she made me a piñata. It was a bull-like animal but as far as I was concerned, it was a camel. I broke the piñata and heard everyone scream. While still blindfolded, my hand reached inside and pulled out its contents. Many future dreams repeated the event, but with a better ending, for in dreams I pocketed off the candy and trinkets instead of letting them fall. This event started my synchronicity with games as well as the recalling of dreams...

Trader Horn
Why hadn't someone told me that movies were so wonderful? Heroes could do so many exciting things and never stop to go to the bathroom. But that first film was the best... Trader Horn. Edwina Booth, the blonde Goddess (from Salt Lake City), Duncan Renaldo, who stole her from me, and Harry Carey, a jungle hunter, were magnificent, brave people in constant danger amidst cannibals and wild beasts. Often, I'd think about her and how nice it would be if together we could tame the jungle animals. With this, synchronicity began with Salt Lake City as well as love for animals.

Eve in Paradise
Today I wonder if the countless paintings of Eve in Paradise were not triggered by Edwina Booth of Utah, the star in Trader Horn. Genesis offered not just the jungle Goddess but also the animals. While living in Corinto, Nicaragua, our home was a mini zoo. One of our small alligators escaped via the toilet. One of our monkeys, a favorite of Jerry's, went with us to El Salvador. Mom's father enjoyed scaring friends by keeping a snake in his side pocket. It was only natural that we saw Tarzan, Jungle Princess and many other jungle films over and over. I could even recite most of the dialogue to some of these movies.

The Jungle Film
After Trader Horn, there came a need to see animals. Dad took us to the zoo but this was not enough. It would have been fun to sketch them but I didn't know how. Dad promised to teach me how to draw birds. At that time, my interest was in elephants and giraffes like in the movie. There weren't any books available then. Had there been, would dad or mom have bought them? Dad's education was stopped in the 7th grade when he broke his back. Mom made it to the 3rd grade in Nicaragua, then refused to go to school in San Francisco. They were not interested in books. Whether or not I saw them, I thought a lot about animals with intentions of someday make a jungle film.

Blessing the Animals
Dorita came in shouting "The priest is blessing the animals". Jerry went for the cat because his eyes shone in the dark which means he had the devil in him. The cat didn't want to go so I helped Jerry. Dorita took our dog. While the priest did the blessing, I kept hoping that the blonde jungle Goddess would show up with her black and white animals. She failed me. I told Dorita that jungle animals should also be blessed and wondered why the blonde lady didn't bring them. She laughed at me saying that films are pretend and that the jungle woman wasn't real. Up to this point I respected Dorita for she was the oldest. But I knew that the animals were real so she too had to be alive.

My First Teacher
Dorita became my first teacher. She assured me that it was ok to go back to mom and be hugged even though she had beat me up. During this time in Guatemala, dad supported us by repairing typewriters. He used gasoline as a cleaning fluid which, upon completing a job, he would pour between the cobble stones in the street and set light to. Dorita told me that the flames burned but the smoke was just warm and not dangerous. The smoke would go up to the sky and become clouds which were responsible for the winds that dried boy’s laundry while the sun gently dried dresses. She also taught me that when people got married, they go to the "baby" trees where eggs turned into babies. If a couple wanted a boy, the would carefully remove the baby with a piece of stem still attached. Often the smell of gasoline triggers a memory.

Tristes Jardines (Lonely Gardens)
It was great when dad brought us sock samples. No two socks were alike so we were the hit of the block wearing odd socks. When he had new records under his arm, we'd scream with joy for we enjoyed singing along with them. There was one without lyrics, "Tristes Jardines", Lonely Gardens. Mom spanked me because whenever someone played it, I'd remove it. She said that she loved me yet she beat me up. That's when I decided to run away to the Lonely Garden where there are poisonous flowers, where the fountains give out inks that stain boys clothing, where wolves and vultures follow you until you die. Even during my childhood years, I was creative under adverse conditions.

Art Lesson
Dad often came home for lunch and would bring us something special. One time it was a bottle of catsup and one of Mazola oil. One day we would pour catsup on our friend rice and the other we'd pour oil. It was wonderful. What impressed me was when he brought home sheets of colored paper and pencils. Dad wanted me to draw birds with a curly line, Dorita sketched strange looking houses, and Jerry bent the pages in a book, slipping them on the inner edge saying that they were ice cream cones. None of their things made sense to me. I sketched airplanes without wings which made them laugh. So, I took off the wheel off of my plane and called it a canoe. Then I wondered, is it right to draw things and not make them look real?

Moving Pictures
I saw drawings that moved, that came out of ink wells and then jumped back in. Now this was the way I wanted to draw even though I didn't know how to draw the easy way. Dad said that the man who showed the moves from the dark little room drew the pictures on blank film. He did this when he had nothing else to do. He took me to see one of these men who gave us some film with letters on it. He told us that he didn't draw on the film but the projectionists in big cities did. Since he showed me how he made the pictures move, I decided to do the same at home. First, the shoe box needed a hole to hold a drinking glass sideways. Then a lit candle went inside the box with the film rolled up. For a second, a light shone on the wall as the whole works burned up.

School of Flowers
Dorita and I started school on the same day. While waiting in the schoolyard for dad to enroll us, I came to the conclusion that we were in the School of Flowers instead of Deutche Shule. I wondered why dad brought us here for there was no need to know more about flowers. Blue flowers were made of poison. Some flowers are called "dancing ladies". Sour flower stems can be eaten and taste like limes. Among flowers lives Milano, the elf. Children have to go to a special hill and ring around the roses in order to see him eating parsley. But seldom is he there for he is at his task opening roses and closing carnations. Instead of going there to be a teacher of flowers I would become a student of mean Herr Ruka.

Mila
After being lectured on the train, I decided to attend school more frequently even though becoming a doctor didn't interest me. One of the older students used to push me around while Herr Ruka would hit my palms with a ruler for not speaking German. At home, dad insisted that I speak English but all my playmates spoke Spanish. For some this would be ideal for becoming tri-lingual. It made me awkward and gave birth to a serious learning disability. A retarded girl lived on the block. We called her Mila. It was fun making fun of her. Then, without warning, all the kids started to call me "Mila". It wasn't fun being on the other side of being ridiculed. They taunted me without mercy.

Train Ride
Dad learned that Herr Ruka and I were not doing too well. The school complained that my attendance record was the poorest in the entire school. Maria, the servant, would walk us to school but as soon as the bell rang, I went to the park. Then I'd return to school just before it let out for lunch. Once home, it was easy to talk mom into letting me stay home the rest of the day. But dad got angry once he learned about my cutting class. He had to go to Panajachel and took me along. The train ride was long on the winding mountain. It rained. Most everyone slept. Dad didn't say much except that in order to become a doctor, I'd have to go to school. I just looked out and wondered why the cars were painted in drab colors and there were no red trees.

Dream of Gold
Mom called us to bed. "Dorita, Billy and Jerry, we have something good to tell you. Last night, your dad and I had the same dream. Gold coins were falling all around us. That can only mean that we are going to be rich. Maybe your dad will find a treasure. Or maybe we'll win the lottery. Or maybe my rich uncle Francisco is going to die and leave us all this money." Naturally, we shared it with everyone and it didn't matter if they laughed at us because it would be their loss. Dorita and I decided not to share our gold with anyone who laughed.

Trouble at School
There was trouble at school, at play, and all the while there was some problems brewing at home. Dad was certain that somewhere in our home a treasure was buried. He dug up every room and then had to work hard to have the tiles replaced. The trellis was torn down in order to continue to dig up the patio. Dorita and Jerry were always dad's favorites but mom paid attention to me. But on this day, I noted that Jerry could get away with smoking cigars and Dorita could do no wrong. Mom neither scolded them nor paid attention to me. She had fallen in love with a friend, Alejandro, who I also liked, but his closeness to mom was disturbing. We burned the wood and three cashews and potatoes in the embers. Everyone had fun but I worried.

Dorita, My Sister Dies
What would have become of me had we stayed in Guatemala? No one paid too much attention to my education. There was the possibility of Mom and Dad breaking up for her romance got torrid. Alejandro had a simple job at the local paper and years later ended in jail. Dorita was the only one who paid attention to me but even she was closer to Jerry. Something had to happen if I were to become something better than a store clerk. Dorita died of typhoid. Jerry and I were ordered not to ever forget our sister. Her favorite record, Ramona, was broken so that we could never hear it again. The grief that beheld our household sparked the return to the States. Dorita's death gave birth to a new life for me.

After Dorita’s Death
After Dorita's death, Dad would take off on his motorcycle. Sometimes he would not return for days. This troubled mom, so she made certain that I would go with him on his trips in order to guarantee our returning that same day. These were hours of great closeness with dad. There was a tinge of guilt within me for I did not miss my sister. Yet, I could feel his grief and understand his silence. In one of the trips when we rode around the fields that had Maya stellas, I lost a shoe which we were unable to find. Dad over reacted, shouting his anger, stating that he had no money to buy new shoes for me. On this occasion, it didn't bother me as if I knew that anger was a necessity.

Soldiers at Church
Grief continued in Guatemala. It was time to move on. Dad went to Mexico to promote Guatemala's heavyweight champion. My second train ride with Mom and Jerry was also with Alejandra as escort. During the trip, he and mom decided to terminate their romance. He returned to Guatemala right after our arrival. Since Dorita's death, mom and dad had become very religious but there was a problem going to church in this new country. There were soldiers at the entrances. However, the side doors were unattended thus permitting admittance to those who dared. These anti-God procedures were instigated by ex-president Calles who still controlled the government. He was born in Sonora, Mexico and was the son of a camel trainer for the U.S. Army. Going to Church was frightening.

A Present for Aunt Chenta
Grief continued in Guatemala. It was time to move on. Dad went to Mexico to promote Guatemala's heavyweight champion. My second train ride with Mom and Jerry was also with Alejandra as escort. During the trip, he and mom decided to terminate their romance. He returned to Guatemala right after our arrival. Since Dorita's death, mom and dad had become very religious but there was a problem going to church in this new country. There were soldiers at the entrances. However, the side doors were unattended thus permitting admittance to those who dared. These anti-God procedures were instigated by ex-president Calles who still controlled the government. He was born in Sonora, Mexico and was the son of a camel trainer for the U.S. Army. Going to Church was frightening.

Where Were, We Born?
Promoting boxing did not work out for dad. The Guatemalan Champ lost his first bout and took the next train back home. The professional gloves were traded for smaller ones that Jerry and I could wear which we often used because many kids wanted to fight "gringos". Dad preferred that we wear gloves if challenged. Because of our accent, we were questioned "where were you born?" We never knew for certain. If we answered "San Francisco" we were accepted because it is a Spanish name. But sometimes we would say "The United States" or "California" and that prompted a fight especially the latter since the Californians stole the land from Mexico. Sometimes they'd ask "Baja or Norte?" We didn't know but one of them caused a fight.

Fun Times in Mexico
There were many fun times in Mexico. Dad decided to tutor us, but he'd always forget to give us lessons. Jerry and I spent most mornings at the park and the rest of the day was spent watching movies. We lived across the street from the Alameda Park so on Sundays we all went to the band stand concert where they always played the Zacatecas March. Sometimes Elena, a neighbor girl who was born with half an arm missing would join us. Dad disliked seeing the organ grinder from fear that he would start playing and conflict with the band. I always sat with mom and gave my weekly balloon to Elena. Dad and Jerry were always together. I thought that invading U.S. soldiers had cut off her arm and that's why the Mexicans hated us.

I Became the Helper
Dad's helper quit. Getting 20% of dad's earnings, or an average of a peso and a half per day, was insufficient pay. It was decided that I would become the helper. At nine years of age, my duties were to carry the tools, disassemble the typewriters, clean the parts with gasoline, and then re-assemble after dad had made the necessary repairs. This meant that there was more money for food cause mom borrowed my percentage and never paid up. Now we were comfortable in Mexico but Jerry and I had no schooling or tutoring. Dad became our teacher but without ability or patience. Whatever would have been my destiny had I stayed in Guatemala, would have been worse if we did not leave Mexico.

The Aztec Calendar
One day mom said "If Billy is to become a doctor and Jerry a lawyer, they have to be educated." Dad started earning more money fixing typewriters for all the banks in the downtown area. Now he could afford a tutor, an Englishman, Mr. Franklin. Although learning English had utmost priority, Franklin always spoke to us in Spanish, enjoyed giving us a lot of math and had us visiting every museum. The Aztec calendar was then exhibited outdoors and was flanked by guards and vendors. He tried to explain it but to no avail. It was my opinion that it should have carvings of nice looking birds.

Boabdil
Walking home after a tour with Franklin, we passed a Spanish restaurant with a tile facade. On the entry wall was a tile painting of an Arab. He said to us "That is Boabdil, the last ruler of Granada. Columbus could not discover America until that Arab King was defeated." I knew that Columbus was a sailor, that Granada was in Nicaragua but no one had ever told me about the Arab Boabdil. But I liked his face and enjoyed touching the tiles. I would have touched the picture but the owner if the restaurant was watching. During the remainder of the walk home, we heard the story of the Arab King, Boabdil, also called Ibn Amar.

How to Survive
Since dad was unable to teach me but had the patience to teach Jerry, it was decided that mother, with her 3 years of schooling, would become my teacher. Since I only had one year of schooling, she was three times smarter. We would go for a walk every afternoon and go shopping. She explained the best way to barter. Every day we would take a different route so that we could talk about the things we saw along the way. Once, a man with a club foot passed us as he sang loudly. "See how happy one can be even though crippled? His clothes are old and mended but he walks like a king". We saw a woman's clothing store displaying clothes for skinny women. "Rich ladies can afford to be fat and healthy but they buy expensive skinny clothes." "It's good to learn the lyrics of songs. That way you can entertain yourself when you are broke."

Montezuma
Dad was disappointed in knowing that Franklin only taught us a few nouns a day but approved our visiting the museums. "Did you see any gold?" We knew that it would please him if we said "Yes". One day he told mom that some of the people at the bank, where he had repaired a typewriter, were impressed that he had hunted treasure in Guatemala and wondered why he had not looked for gold in Mexico. The Montezuma hoard was still in hiding. It alone toppled all riches buried in all of Central America. While we were having supper, dad looked at his glass of beer and said "The name of this beer is 'Montezuma' and it is the color of gold. This is destiny touching us.

Imagine
We did not live far from the area where dad repaired typewriters. At noon, we'd cross the Alameda Park, the half point, and rest on a bench. Everyone seemed happy at this point. There was enough money for food, rent for a decent room and a little extra to afford a cook/housekeeper. However, it was not good for Jerry and me to remain uneducated. If their dreams of riches would only come true, then we could return to San Francisco as rich people. Under this condition, an education would not be necessary for us. One day we ran across Henry Miller. He was the key to making drama come true.

A new Expedition
Henry claimed to have found the Montezuma treasure with the help of an Indian wife who was a descendant of the tribe responsible for guarding the riches. He was on orders from President Obregon (from Sonora, Mexico) who supplied a map showing the site of a sealed cave on which was painted a scorpion on an open hand. Upon returning after locating the treasure, he learned of Obregon's death and chose not to share the information with the government. The manager of the bank where dad repaired typewriters, financed the new expedition that would make us as rich as Rockefeller.

The Train to Mazatlan
Late one night, looking dirty and wearing torn clothes, Dad returned to Mexico City. He announced that the Montezuma treasure was not found. We were without funds and liable for the money borrowed from the bank. If we did not leave the country post haste, he would end up in jail. The neighbors were soon aware of dad's return and joined the discussion. It was decided that we leave immediately. Everyone in the rooming house gave us money in exchange for our two beds, a couple of chairs, a radio, most of our clothes and four chickens we kept up in the roof. We left the house shortly after midnight so that we would not encounter anyone from the bank. It was a long walk to the train depot but it was easy for there was no luggage except for dad's tools and a few things in a pillowcase. But there was the apprehension that we would be caught. At the station, it was good to see it virtually empty. The conductor allowed us to board the train to Mazatlan which was as far as we could get with our limited finances.

The Temple Theater
With the help of the American Consulates in Mexico City and Mazatlán, we took the train that took us to Nogales, Sonora. We crossed the border on foot and took another train to Los Angeles. From there, we drove to San Francisco. Our aunt, Chenta, and her husband went to get us. Once in San Francisco, dad insisted that Jerry and I go to the movies every day possible in the hope that we would learn English. The Temple Theater was the cheapest but we went to all the shows in the Fillmore District because Jerry was less than six years old until his 14th birthday. Mom and dad would now speak to us in English so we learned our language with lots of reinforcement.

The Stained Glass
We moved across the street from St. Dominic's Church and immediately started singing in the choir. In front of the choir loft was a stained glass of a naked Adam and Eve. It had me wondering why everyone acted as if being naked was a sin and yet there was nudity in the window painting. We were enrolled in the school where Jerry adjusted better than I did. He started in the third grade and I in the fifth, yet the total of days that we had gone to school prior to this was less than a month. The stained-glass window made a strong impression. I visualized the woman as the blonde Goddess of Trader Horn soon Dorothy Lamour came on the screen as the Jungle Princess.

St. Dominic’s Church in San Francisco
Saint Dominic's was the second Dominican church and school in California. The first is in Benicia. To me, this is synchronicity. Every nun who was my teacher is buried a few blocks away from my present home where there is a cemetery for all Californian Dominican nuns. Our church in San Francisco is the only Roman Gothic architecture in North America but the original one was identical to the one here in Benicia. When the new one was built, the old one became the auditorium and basketball court for our school. (mural located in Benicia)

Juan Bautista de Anza
The nun had a roll down picture of Juan Bautista de Anza. Our assignment was to do his picture, the Sonora born founder of our city. Then we had to tell the class something about our drawing. I did my first portrait then got in front of the class and said "I like Anza because his name rhymes with Esperance, the Spanish word for hope." Sister Cecilia gave me an A in both art and history. To this date, C had been my highest grade. For that reason, I could never win a ribbon to pin to my sweater. It motivated me to do better, and eventually did get a green ribbon. I went home, placed one of dad's photos on the window and traced it only typing paper. Dad was so impressed that he took me to the local billboard studio to see if I could become an apprentice.

A Trip to Europe
My next A came from the assignment "A trip to Europe". My composition told how Mike, the smartest boy in our class, tried swimming to Europe but the piranhas started eating his swim suit so he had to hurry back. Glory, the smart blonde who was my secret love, would go on roller skates that got rusty and was also destined to return. I, in turn, went on a bicycle because rubber tires do not rust. Robinson Crusoe would point the way and tell me where to find the canoes filled with food and goodies. Doing that, which was easy for me, got the best results but it also peaked my curiosity about Crusoe. It started me doing research and I'd spend a lot of time at the library. His real name was Alexander Selkirk and he was stranded on the island Mas Afuera.

Stories Told by the Nuns
The nuns at St. Dominic’s enjoyed California history. Two stories stayed with me which will be illustrated in the future. One was about the discovery of the West by the Chinese and naming it "The Land of Fusang". There a magic silkworm wove a thread strong enough to hold the weight of many men. This has been identified as the sisal plant that gives us hemp rope. The other tale was about Concepcion Arguello, the daughter of the commandant at the Presidio of San Francisco. She was to marry Count Rezanov from the Russian Fort Ross. He first had to return home where he would tell the Czar that California was ripe for the taking. He would also get Papal dispensation to marry her. But he died during the trip. Conception became our first nun and is buried in Benicia.

The Corner Store
Another thing happened that helped give me a better self-image. The corner grocery hired me to work on weekends and after school. Now I could help with household expenses. We managed an apartment house and I did most of the cleaning of hallways and lobby. But this was not as rewarding as bringing home money. The girls would now look at me for I was a business man. Mom, dad and Jerry would sometimes watch me from the outside to check on my performance. Dad's greatest concern was that I would lose my job if I decided to sing while working. While married, and going to school, we could always return to that store and buy groceries on credit.

High School Art
High School was fun. There was no problem getting an A. But it was more fun to goof off. However, during those four years sprouted the seed of social skills. Before I was ashamed of my accent, but now a teacher said that it was suave. So, it went to my head. Art was the easiest subject and for that reason many creative classes were taken. When friends ran for office, I'd paint their posters. Since my drawings of Porky Pig were outstanding, all the girls got copies. One day, while walking to school, I passed a newsstand run by a retarded person. He had decorated his cubicle with a variety of cartoon figures far better than my Porky Pig. It was so devastating that it made me quit doing any type of art.

Risdon Shipyard
The war started. Working full time at the grocery store was illogical. After two weeks of special schooling, I was hired as a shipfitter at the Risdon Shipyard. It surprised me that most of the workers were unambitious. They just wanted to find a hole where they could hide and sleep. To me it was like having a giant Tinker Toy. I was given two assistants and each had a crew of ten. But only the three of us worked. We would locate the parts of the hull and wire them together. A master shipfitter followed with welders and riveters. Dad also worked at the shipyard. He was always concerned that I'd start singing on the job and be fired. Most of the money went to mom and the rest was for dating Mollie.

Mollie
Mollie seemed to meet mom's requirements for a daughter-in-law. Being Guatemalan, she would "move in with the son's parents". But I saw more: she had attended college a whole year and I could visualize her walking past the school's Roman columns; she danced and could teach me; she played the violin and I liked music; her folks owned their home putting her in an upper class. Mom was concerned that I dated at age 20, and hoped that Mollie was a docile, totally controllable native weaver. They liked hearing that she played the violin and danced. That's because the entire family had once enjoyed a Gold Diggers film where a chorus danced with white violins. Mollie would not play La Cucaracha for dad and seemed to be very American. Marriage had to be discouraged.

Medic!
Jerry and I were drafted on the same day. We shared basic training but ended in opposite campaigns. He sent the entire war in the South Pacific; I was wounded on my first day of battle in Europe. I shouted MEDIC! Fortunately, they were nearby, placed me in a stretcher that was tied to a Jeep, and said "This guy is done for!" Morphine dulled the pain and put me to sleep. I awoke while being placed on an operating table and said "Doctor, why me? There's a bullet in my stomach. Check my stomach and please give me water." He said "We saw it in the x-ray. Can I give you Whiskey instead?" "No. Just water." A damp piece of cotton was placed on my lips. I sucked it dry and all went black. Just before getting wounded, a Chaplain came to our group and gathered all the Catholics. He told us "Whatever sins you have committed are forgiven." This gave us free passage into heaven. Shortly after this, I came very close to death and was aware of it. The only thing I wanted was to die so that the pain would go away. There was no thought of heaven or hell. Later on, I recalled that one of the soldiers said after the priest's absolution, "Even if we are free of sin, if death comes, the angels will pull us up to heaven but don't be surprised if a couple of devils don't try to pull us into hell." Many years later, at a social gathering, a guest spoke about the need to be a Christian and to read the Bible in order to earn everlasting life in the presence of Jesus. It was difficult to hold back that I neither believed in either heaven or hell and that if Jesus only welcomed his flock, there are millions upon millions around him in heaven and it would be a miracle to get near him. But suppose that there is heaven, would I go there since I give beauty to the world? Yes, I would go to heaven where an Angel would bring me my tiles, a second would hand me tools, another would mix buckets of glaze and still another would rush the tiles to hell where they would be fired. Bible readers would also go to heaven to read the Bible over again, and again, and again and again..........................................................................and again.

It’s so Easy to Find Excuses
I told the uniformed volunteer ladies that it was silly to get a pass from the hospital to go to the movies in Salisbury on a storming night. I had no clothes, my left leg was paralyzed and just a couple of weeks prior my left kidney was removed. Dr. Volk overheard me and joined the conversation. He asked "why not?" In a matter of minutes, a uniform was borrowed from an attendant. Then someone came over and fitted me with a pair of shoes which on the spot, one was attached to a wire brace that would throw up my limp foot when I walked. Once outside, one of the ladies said "it's so easy to find excuses to avoid living."

My Art Began
I was in and out of hospital for over three years. We were married while I was still a full-time patient. Some of our honeymoon luggage was filled with surgical dressings. The first year of Art School was shared with the hospital. In order to maintain sanity, arts and crafts occupied most of the time as patient. One day the Administrator inspected our ward and tripped over an easel but fortunately the loom broke his fall. At the time, I was making paper flowers for Poppy Day (Armistice), oil painting portraits of the nurses, home movie editing, weaving, making wood toys and leather wallets. I had a projector and screen to show cartoons to entertain us in the evenings. They restricted me to three activities at a time but gave me a utility closet for the rest.

End of the War
The Nazis were defeated and the Atom Bomb was dropped. Although more surgery was scheduled, I demanded being discharged from the Army. This way I could leave Auburn General Hospital in the gold country and move back to San Francisco. There I sought admittance to Ft. Miley Veterans Hospital for the rest of my surgery. The first year was difficult for besides going to school, our first home was being built with a G.I. Bill Loan. For a few months, I was out of the hospital in order to get a night job so that my income would qualify for the loan. Two weeks after the final discharge from Ft. Miley, our first son, Ron, was born and we moved into the new home.

I Kept Running
Going to Art School was a blast! It opened my eyes to many things, greatly improving social skills. One day while running to catch an early streetcar, the brace on my leg broke but I kept on running. While yanking the damned thing off, I concluded that if running is possible without the brace, why wear it? And never saw it again. Some classes were dull, were cut and were replaced by going to the library to research on anything that came to mind. This improved writing skills. Soon it became evident that I could never make it as a commercial artist. Therefore, instead of seeking work in advertising agencies, I went to the television stations and applied for employment as Art Director.

The Art Director
KRON TV liked my presentation and hired me but not as Art Director. It took them two months to concede that I did qualify. Five assistants were hired. The reason for my choosing them was because they were ex art classmates. Here my social skill not only blossomed but a touch of ham accompanied it. Now there was no fear to talk to people either in person or by way of microphone or camera. Speaking to large groups became second nature. Fortunately, KRON was the first privately owned station to get color cameras, so I invented a system that guaranteed the compatibility of telecast color. CHromaCHron was internationally used in the early days of color TV which resulted from my delivering a variety of technical papers to engineering groups.

The Family Vacations
Often when not feeling well, I'd blame my battle injuries. On one occasion, the doctor suggested getting rid of the tonsils; on another, the gall bladder was removed. Neither surgery helped me feel better. Finally, frustration was diagnosed. I wanted to paint and that was not possible at the time. I loved my family and did not want to deprive them in any way. The doctor said that my life was being shortened by a lifestyle that did not take my needs into consideration. The days were then divided into four shifts: work until dinner; family time until nine; paint and clean up until one a.m.; sleep until it's time to walk the dog. Vacations and weekends were for the family.

The Korean War
Again, we are in a war. Unlike WW II, this Korean conflict was questioned. Television brought it into the living rooms. I stopped going to VFW Meetings because our post was more interested in knowing that this new war would result in new members. In the meantime, they were trying to ban Kirsten Flagstaff from singing at the opera house for she had been the enemy and Diego Rivera paintings were to be thrown out of the Museum of Modern Art because he was a Commie. By now, Bob was born. The war did not affect our being the jet set family in the neighborhood. Our income afforded us long vacations, frequent airplane trips and active weekends. The urge to paint again began in full force.

Juan Bautista de Anza Honored
The need to explore a new profession led to leaving KRON. For a while I tried promoting electronics by means of films. Then came seven years as Chief of Radio and TV for the Sixth U.S. Army. While producing a documentary on San Francisco, the remains of Juan Bautista de Anza were discovered under the floor of the church in Arizpe, Sonora, Mexico. I took a film crew to the site and before long returned to help construct a marble sarcophagus, for the founder of my city. Then came the honor of placing in his final resting place, the man whose portrait won me my first A in school. It was here that I realized that Sonora was a part of me.

The de Anza Committee
Synchronicity with Anza became evident after this episode. Research showed that we were of the same height and both of us had a paralyzed left leg. His was caused by sciatica while a shrapnel took care of mine. Mayor Shelley appointed me as Chairman of the de Anza Committee. I coordinated the shipping of his bronze statue from Hermosillo, Sonora to San Francisco and aided in selecting the site where it now stands. Duties also included bringing a student from Arizpe who would be educated in San Francisco. All this was done while working for the Army who felt that the commanding general should have been appointed. This friction along with the Viet Nam War lured me to becoming a Bank Officer for Wells Fargo.

Inner Conflict
Working for the bank as a Training Officer was most demanding. It was like operating a small radio, television, motion picture studio using amateur equipment, but the boss insisted on perfection. There were meetings every day. The phone never stopped. Every employee needed attention. The cameras and mikes were always on. Complaints followed each premier showing. No one wanted responsibility. Few would look at you straight in the eye except for those who displayed anger. The bank did not understand creativity. Their sole interest was to make money. There was no respect for employees. An unwritten policy was to make a person want to resign within five years thus eliminating severance pay.

A Triptych of Poems
While the other employees played dominoes during breaks, I carved a clay stage coach. This worried the boss for he was unable to understand that my recreation had to be a form of creation. I would also write poetry which he read but could not understand. A Triptych of Poems was made into a bank film which served as a facilitator for branch manager meetings where no one wished to get involved. But after seeing the film, they were eager to participate in order to learn why the bank spent good money producing trash. From that moment on the meetings were active. The narrative told that from a bow, man invented the guitar and weapons of war also evolved, for both beauty and ugliness are a part of man.

Lifestyle Change
In the poem, I stated "But I need you to sing me a song of my accomplishments that I may accomplish more ... a song of my faults.... casts my eyes into dank pools ... and I die." Deep inside I sensed an early death if I kept ignoring the youth giving "fork of life that explores the beauty of man." The middle poem was a dream "like the flight of a bird ... restless wings and reckless winds guide me for I am the king of the gypsies." Here I was shouting for the freedom needed to change lifestyle. It was time to meditate with wide open eyes. The doctor suggested a divorce but the boys still lived at home. A day a week for me alone became evident.

The Weight of My Chores
Every chore, whether it was for work, for the home, or even for myself was weighing me down like the albatross of the Ancient Mariner (the subject of an early ceramic painting). Something had to give. The inward restlessness increased my appetite while my performance at work was going downhill. I needed the Montezuma treasure or to win the Irish Sweepstakes in order to survive. A drastic change was inevitable.

Cogs
It all came to a head at a seminar. The boss said "We are all humans and must treat each other and our subordinates with respect. But we are also a part of a wheel. Each cog must function to make it run well. Coffee every day and pay hikes every year will lubricate the machine." I liked the human aspect but disliked the role of a cog among cogs.

The Viet Nam War
The Viet Nam War was getting to me. But there was no way to share these concerns with Mollie. She was comfortable with her way of life. Her big concern was the length of Bob's hair. No friend or relative would have understood. We lived in a complaisant middle class neighborhood, frightened of change and totally accepting what God and country dictated. Working for the bank was the same. Perhaps some of us voted Democrat but our souls were completely Conservative. Restlessness kept growing at home and at work. Mom and dad were now bedridden to add to my emotional turmoil. Tranquilizers and sleeping pills were prescribed which covered up my feelings and perpetuated a facade that projected "all's okay".

Finding Peace of Mind
While the family went to Church, I'd take long rides and park where it was desolate. The peace of mind inspired me to write poetry which was finalized at night when everyone slept. On this free day, I would not shave. That and my not attending Mass disturbed Mollie who brought it to the attention of mom and dad who in turn wondered what was happening. One Sunday, I found myself on the cliffs near Santa Cruz. Down below were fishermen, sun bathers and joggers. Most of them were alone. All seemed content. Was it possible that a person could be happy being alone? The answer was self-evident. I was alone on these Sundays and it felt good. But there was a tinge of guilt for not being with the family. The day ended with visiting mom and dad.

Walls and Ceilings
Three ex-television producers bought a tile factory (Stonelight Tile in San Jose) and invited me to experiment with their tiles and showed me how to sketch over glazed tiles. The process was complicated and frightening. Instead I chose to break their seconds and try a hand at mosaics. Doing this was better than tranquilizers. The patio and back of the house became a broken tile mosaic mural. It drove Mollie up the wall when the floors of our four-level home were tiled. This was followed by redoing the bathrooms. Finally, every room and hallway had a mural. Soon stone was incorporated. There were interior and exterior stone walls; the yard got terraced; a three-story chimney got a rock facade; the fireplace was redone with rock. Soon it all ended. There was not more to be done.

Experimenting with New Mediums
I was now experimenting with an art form not taught at the Academy of Art where I intermittently attended for four years and didn't bother to take exams or ask for grades. Fortunately, I learned faster by trial and error. The stone murals were complicated and had to be done in 20 inch x 20 inch sections. The materials were placed in a bed of petroleum jelly with a frame around it. The drawing was a mirror image of the final design. The dentist recommended a dental gypsum cement as the base for the mural. This was poured into the frame and allowed to set. When it was turned over, the petroleum was removed and, after installation, replaced with mortar. Pictures of the mural went to many architects but no one responded.

Their Sins were Forgiven
Mom and Dad were now bedridden and expressed a fear of dying. She said "I haven't been to confession since I was 12 years old and I want to meet Jesus when I die." Dad snickered, "You've had communion. Not me, I'll end up with the devil." These concerns were relayed to a priest who went to them. "Today, I will hear your confession. Joe, have you ever killed anyone?" "No" he said. "Dora, how about you?" "Never!" Their sins were forgiven; communion followed. I now realized the strong umbilical cord that still controlled me. Mom died, during her Mass I wondered, if dad died soon after, would it make me want a divorce thus changing my life? Dorita started a drastic change in my youth. Is death a necessity for change?

I Continue to Grow
Dad became more demanding during his final year. From now on my Sundays were taken up by taking him to breakfast and a ride. When he died, the umbilical cord was totally severed but my art needs had to be shelved. There was nothing more to be done at the house, the aquarium murals were completed and no one else wanted my services. A new interruption became beneficial. While still working at the bank, I was asked to produce films on living Mexican master artists. Three became friends and reintroduced me to the art of Mexico. Jose Luis Cuevas was the first one I met. He was a fellow Pisces with international acclaim. These new friends were not just artists like many I knew. Instead, they were great men who had many books written about them.

Jose Luis Cuevas
Alberto Misrachi, an art agent from Mexico City, contacted me to ask if I could watch over Jose Luis Cuevas, the Mexican artist, who would be doing lithographs in San Francisco. Jose Luis and I became friends and our friendship resulted in my producing a film "Cuevas Comedy," illustrating the process of doing a suite of lithographs.

The Cuevas Museum of Modern Art, Mexico City
Twenty years later, the Mexican Government converted the historic convent of Santa Inez into the Cuevas Museum of Modern Art. Although Jose Luis had never known me as an artist, he had kept up with my progress and when visiting him one day he said "Billy, now that you are a formidable artist, would you do a mural for my museum?" This resulted in "Homage to Jose Luis Cuevas" which showed him being inspired by Quevedo, Dostoevsky, Kafka, Keaton, Langdon and deSade. His interest in motion pictures also shows King Kong in New York. Other structures, the Tower of the Americas, the Golden Gate Bridge, the Tower of London, the Eifel Tower, represent some of the cities where he has exercised his creativity. Unfortunately, the 1989 earthquake caused the leaning mural to topple and many tiles cracked. Rather than redoing it, a different approach was made and the damaged one went to his him.

Early Art
In my early twenties, I painted a canvas using poster paints applied with a sponge. Francisco Zuniga saw it and said nice things about it. Again, it was easy to accept the comments as being compliments with little meaning. But it did not matter. I was in a state of flux and needed to hear nice things. If a great artist found something good in my early creativity, perhaps there was hope for me and I could improve. Like Siqueiros, he said that I thought and spoke like an artist. Courage set in and in a trip to the tile factory, sketches of fish and birds were made, each on a single tile for that was the extent of my daring. Quickly I advanced to small landscapes. When at last came the courage to attempt a figure, one of Zuniga's lithographed women was copied. But copying was not the answer toward achieving individuality so the tiles were destroyed.

Self Portrait
I am now 50 years old. My being churns with desperation for a new way of life. Countless eyes will be upon me but nine lucky starts will illuminate my darkness and a warm sun will caress me. Others will wonder what has become of me for they can only evaluate the success achieved at my trade without considering that which has me dreaming of touching stars. They will stare at my art with doubtful eyes thus weakening my trembling insecurity, yet regardless, I need them to sing me a song of my accomplishments. Perhaps a support system and a few quick sales to boot will salve loneliness. I must not let the mounting bills tempt me to return.
This Mural now stands in Pleasanton, California in a Park overseeing three stellas that he was commissioned to do in 1995. He passed away at age 72 a few weeks after the instillation of the murals.

Cold Dreams
On countless nights, the setting of dreams was a cold dismal tunnel filled with vapors that cause gasping. I didn't want to awaken for the day would be a continuance of the darkness that engulfed me. I no longer have a home. The boys have left to be on their own and the father has followed in their steps. But grown children leaving is normal. Mine is questionable and totally saturated with insecurity. Mollie was left with two healthy savings accounts, the home and my disability pension. All I kept was a small down payment for a beat-up little house without heating. I looked at myself sleeping. Then I told me to get up and to look at the birds flying about me. "There are nine of them and that's your lucky number. All will be well at daybreak." One day a car with nines in its license plate is parked in front of my house. On the freeway, I follow another "three nine" car and still another awaits me at the tile factory. The latter is owned by a teacher who said "Please come to our school. We need murals."

My Dust Settles
Dreams became more interesting. It started the habit of recording them. Often, I'd awake and read notes about dreams already forgotten. In one it stated "My dust settles in unknown places where I have been." This was followed in later nights by stories about an Italian marble quarry worker, an Olmec Jasique, a British sailor, a Russian trader, a Spanish colonial missionary, an American colonial spy, a freak, a French painter, a San Francisco fisherman and a WW I American soldier.
Did interest in history trigger these dreams? Was I creative even while dreaming? Imagination could easily convert all these slumber adventures into a study on reincarnation. After this conclusion came a dream of recording it all on tile.
After sharing all this with Stonelight Tile they said, "Do it! Take whatever is needed and we'll fire it at no cost. From here on, you are our resident artist." (Mural owned by The Benicia Museum)

Noitan Racnier
While Noitan Racnier was in process, Harcourt’s Gallery had an exhibit of Siqueiros lithographs. The artist had recently died and there was the possibility of again seeing his widow, Angelica, at the gallery, but I arrived late, thus missing her. Harcourt’s was impressed by my friendship with the maestro and asked if by chance I owned some lithographs they could buy. "No, I only have Cuevas and Zuniga which are in my car if you are interested." Also in the car were two of my ceramic paintings. They already had copies of the lithos but were interested in the tiles and purchased both paintings. Now my flight was not aimless nor guided by reckless winds. Having an important gallery representing me was like being in a nest with someone else responsible for feeding me.
Note - Noitan Racnier is reincarnation spelled backwards.

El Mercado
Although many important works were sold through Harcourt’s, the theme that was most popular was the Mexican Mercado. Many versions in a variety of shapes and sizes went to collectors throughout the U.S. and Canada. Now bills were paid on a regular basis.

A New Game
Being new at my game brings about insecurity plus paranoia. A compliment on the shapes of my figures is accepted the inability to draw. The only way to correct this is to sketch from models. By now many business associates are aware of my new lifestyle. Ex secretaries were phoned and asked if they would pose for me. Not one turned me down and received a painting as payment. This resulted in changing the gossip. Now I am no longer just a fool but have become a dirty old man.

So Many Ideas
So many ideas come to mind that only few will be fulfilled. Ceramic painting is a slow process that must be sped. The slowest thing is doing the sketch but executing it directly on to the tile is faster than a paper rendition. And paper sketches have to be transferred onto the tile thus taking more time. Then comes these thoughts: how many ideas will die while doing the transfer? the transfer will be a copy; if I am going to copy, why copy me instead of a great artist?
A mode for doing the resist line work on tile (what keeps the glazes from running into each other) was also expedited. Still, only a small portion of the ideas are born. It's like sperm. The flow of ideas keep me alive for as long as there is an idea, a painting demands completion.

CATHEDRAL OF MAN
CATHEDRAL OF MAN was produced for ISI (Institute for Scientific Information) in Philadelphia. This was the first mural with substance. At first it was difficult to convince Dr. Garfield that no sketches would be made. The mural was commissioned but only after much deliberation during which time Dr. Eugene Garfield participated by offering valuable input. Future murals which followed comparable procedures have fared well. This makes it easier for the artist.

Monterey
The Monterey mural was one of Granizo’s greatest works. It was installed on the back of the Monterey Convention Center. In 2015 the building was torn down for re construction. With the help of the Architectural Resources Group in San Francisco, the mural was removed, stored and made ready for re installation once the building is complete. (estimated late 2017).

The Los Angeles Olympic Mural
In 1983 Granizo was commissioned to do a mural of the World Olympics representing every sport that existed. This was a rush job which did not afford time to transport tile back and forth to the Santa Cruz mountains. I rented an apartment in San Jose and in 12 weeks, and without a preliminary sketch, 2232 sq. ft. of ceramic painting had to be completed. Three shifts a day were necessary to meet a quota of 26 sq. ft. tiles a day plus redoing a 10% breakage. Except for a person to carry the tiles to the kiln and then load them, there were no helpers. It took less man hours to create it than to install it.

My Move to Benicia
Moving to Benicia was a fluke but it may have been in the back of my mind since in long ago dad had mentioned it in connection with his parents moving West. Although I once produced a film about Benicia called STREETS IN UNIFORM, where the city was featured. It never dawned on me that someday it would be home. The film told how Col. Beale was responsible for bringing camels to the USA and the Cameleer who fathered Mexico's President Calles, the man from Sonora who frightened us from going to church as kids. (Mural owned by The Benicia Museum)

The Benicia Studio
Every property I saw had an inadequate studio area. The one home available in Benicia was purchased without even seeing the house. It was the studio that mattered - a four car garage. It is located near the Camel Barn Museum where I had an exhibit shortly after moving in. Not far is the Clock Tower whose sentries permitted William Walker to sail out the "Gate" so that he could take over Nicaragua. In the other direction is a cemetery where all my San Francisco grammar school teachers are buried. Also, nearby is the first of the Dominican schools of California. I went to the second Dominican School located in San Francisco.

Historic City
Benicia is a most historic city. It was once the State Capital of California. Here Jack London wrote some of his novels. The discovery of gold was announced in Benicia where all California Dominican nuns are buried. It is here where Sister Conception de Arguello died. Had she married Count Rezenov, California would have become Russian and I would not have lived. There are more stories. Many have been illustrated on tile and sunk into the concrete sidewalk, like the Commandant's House where General Doolittle stayed while he gave final briefing to his men prior to the raid on Tokyo.

Toni
This is the special lady in my life. I can always depend on her to be there. Since she collects penguins, a series of floor plaques were made for Steinhart Aquarium. Toni managed my business and personal affairs through my final years. She was my true companion and I loved her dearly. She was always at my side and help me through difficult times as I became gravely ill. I died in her arms in 1995.

My Friend Jim
Supporting my creativity is a combination of family and friends. My family are my friends while my friends have become family. I am more productive because while Jim Sheets is cleaning, arranging, adding to my studio, improving working areas, mixing glazes and framing smaller works. Together we all install murals. His help is invaluable and his friendship a Godsend.

Each Day
Almost every day during daylight hours I may be found working in the studio. Ten cats have become dependent on me. A raccoon, two skunks and a possum clean the cats' dishes at night. Since moving to Benicia my productivity has increased for peace of mind has become a top priority. If I do not have a paying commission, I still sketch and glaze then donate the murals to children’s hospitals.

Which is My Favorite Child
It would be fun to see a retrospect of all the tile paintings I've achieved. The total would run into at least 7,000 for the average is 500 per year. There would be the temptation to select the best of the lot. But that would be like asking "which is my favorite child?" The pleasure comes in doing a new painting and each one should have as little as possible of the previous ones for the past is dead. There are no hands on the clock of my creativity. Let tiresome time be with me, with the aches it causes. Even though in pain I can bubble for what has been created. I anger when the gift within me is ignored and time gets wasted.

The Peak
The final poem in the business world film stated, "I have reached the peak of the mountain of life, the trek downward is before me. I must make ready for the new. The climb was learning and preparation for tomorrows ...... was I a hermit restricting my scope to a solitary existence? Or was man's modeling of mud a part of me as well as his need to be surrounded by beauty?
Some interpreted the above as the words of an old man wanting an easy life on the road leading to the grave. In reality they were the words of a young man who had turned old. He had the tools in his hands and mind to make his road palatable and constructive. But his eyes had to be open and receptive to beauty.
The creative role is not an easy one but it re-energizes as would a fountain of youth. From here on, it will be easy for I do not have to put up with the SOBs that overpopulate the earth. Being selective of friends does not make me a hermit. I am still "eager to learn, to achieve, to share and to stay young" till I reach the base of the mountain.

Below is a condensed catalog of the Autobiographical murals displayed above.