I graduated from Sacramento High School in 1964, and immediately enrolled at Sacramento City College.  I took two classes that summer and all went well.  Then, over the next two years I completed nearly 60 units at the college. 
At the same time, big things were taking place in the world.  The United States became involved in a serious conflict in the small country of Viet Nam.  Soon, a seemingly small conflict became a very big conflict, but I did not realize the seriousness of it all then.
 I continued my schooling and transferred to Sacramento State College in 1966.  I had registered with the draft board when I turned 18, but because I attended college, they gave me a student deferment.  So, I continued my studies and gave little thought to the ramifications of military service.  My friends were not so lucky.  Jim Ducray volunteered to join the Army in 1966, and served a one-year tour of duty in Viet Nam.  My friend Dick Kinzel went in a little after Jim did.  One by one, almost all my friends were called for service, but as long as I stayed in school, I had no contact from the draft board.  In 1968, that all changed.
By that time, I began having academic problems at Sacramento State College.  I had done fine at City College, but I found the University curriculum considerably more challenging.  In three semesters, I landed on probation and dropped out. 
This worked out fine at first.  I went to work for my uncle Ross Relles at his florist.  Everything seemed fine.  But, as the Viet Nam war continued to escalate, more and more foot soldiers were needed.  Soon, they came after me.
In October of 1968, I received a letter instructing me to take a military physical.  That month, I went to the Oakland Induction Center and completed a medical exam.  By December, I got letter notifying me I had passed my physical and was physically able for medical service.  In February 1969, I received my draft notice.  I had to report for service in April. 
So, on April 14, 1969, I showed up at the Federal Building down town to take the bus to Oakland for my induction.  Oh man, I was not ready for this.  Incredibly, my cousin Pam’s fiancé Alan was there too.  The two of us somberly headed off to join the Army. 
I thought it would be a no hassle process, little did I know.  When I walked up to the desk to accept my induction, the sergeant said, Mr. Relles, you are being inducted into the U. S. Marines. Then I said, “no, I am not.”  The sergeant replied, “but you have to,” and I replied, “no, I do not.”  So, the perplexed sergeant sent me up to the 2nd floor to speak with the marine recruiter.  There, I waited for about 2 hours to speak with a Lieutenant. When I finally got to see him, he asked why I didn’t want to go into the marines.  I told him, “I am 22 years old, not some young hot head.  I am okay with the army, but not ready for the gung ho marines.”  Eventually, he sent me out to wait on the “group w” bench.  There I waited, and waited.
Finally, the marine corporal at the front desk came over and said, “Mr. Relles, you can go down and join the army now, we have our quota for the day.”
The rest is history.  I was inducted into the U.S. Army that day, and served my 2-year military commitment to my country honorably; now, the day I was almost inducted into the U. S. Marines is a harrowing Janey Way memory.

One day in the late spring of 1961, my dad came home from work and told me, “This weekend, you and I are going fishing with Uncle Ross.”

Sure enough, Friday evening about 5:30 p.m., Uncle Ross drove up in his station wagon with my Cousin Jim. Dad loaded two fishing poles, some tackle, two sleeping bags, a grocery bag full of food , and coats and clothing for us into the car. Then off we went on our fishing trip.

We drove out Folsom Boulevard toward Placerville. Back then, no freeways had been built so we drove out Folsom Boulevard to Folsom. Eventually that road ran into State Highway 50.

When we reached Placerville, we turned north on Highway 49 in the direction of Georgetown, an old gold rush village.

Just before we reached Georgetown, we turned east on a dirt road and drove about five miles to a place where we stopped and made camp.

The thing I remember most about that ride was the dust. It billowed up and covered Uncle Ross’ car.

What a mess.

But who cared, we were going to camp out under the stars. Wow!

After we unloaded the gear, we began to erect the tents. This dates back before the days of REI, so the tents we had came from Army Surplus. We set up one tent for Dad and Uncle Ross and one for Jim and me. Then we unrolled our sleeping bags inside the tents.

While we did this, Uncle Ross built a fire and cooked dinner: hot dogs and canned beans. I tell you this, hot dogs and beans never tasted so good. For dessert, we had Hostess Cup Cakes. As we watched the sun set, we drank coffee with lots of milk and sugar in it.

When the sun came down and dark settled in, we beheld the magic of the entire Milky Way spreading across the night sky. I remember the majesty of that to this day. However, soon we tired, closed our tent flap and fell into a deep sleep.

When morning came, Jim and I awoke to the sound of Uncle Ross cooking breakfast. He started the fire, then made coffee, then cooked bacon and eggs. The smell of the cooking bacon proved intoxicating, and soon we all dressed and joined Uncle Ross around the fire.

After breakfast, we gathered our gear and headed down to the Rubicon River in search of trout.

Since this was my first fishing trip, I took in all the sights. We trekked over huge granite outcroppings, went around large fir trees, and crossed gurgling streams filled with water so clean, you could scoop up a hand full and drink right from the stream.

Eventually we arrived at the river where Dad and Ross went upstream and Jim and I went downstream.

Try as we might, Jim and I caught no fish. We saw some big ones, but they ignored our bait. In the end, we headed back upstream to find Dad and Uncle Ross.

When we found them, they proudly held up two trout each: nice looking fish, all about twelve inches long. Jim and I were happy somebody caught something. After admiring the catch, we all headed back up toward the camp site.

As always, the walk back out always seems a lot harder the walk in. But we made it back without an injury, or a whimper. Soon we had the car loaded and headed home with our bounty.

We stopped in Placerville on the way home to eat lunch. We had burgers and fries. Keep in mind, this was long before people worried much about cholesterol and the food tasted great. After filling our bellies, off we went to Sacramento.

I remember this trip as if it were yesterday. The clean air, the pure water, the simple food cooked outdoors all added up to a wonderful time with my father, my uncle and my cousin. Even today, Jim and I often think back and recall this special Janey Way memory.

My father, Martin Relles, Sr., arrived at Sacramento High in 1931 with great fanfare.

His brothers, George and Ross, who preceded him at the old school had outstanding athletic careers, so doubtless much was expected of Marty.

He did not disappoint them. In fact on his first day of school he had the following slogan sewn on his sweater: “Another great Relles comes to Sacramento High.”

I arrived at Sacramento High in 1962 to begin my junior year with considerably lower expectations. I had just completed two unhappy and unsuccessful years at Christian Brothers School (CBS) and had no idea what to expect at Sac.

I fact, my experience at the old school proved to be a very good one.

For starters, my best friends Mike Gilson and Al Wilson transferred from CBS to Sac with me. This eased my transition.

We all tried out for varsity football that summer and all ended up on the Junior Varsity team.

At first, I felt disappointed by what seemed another failure, but in the end, the demotion worked out well for me. I played every down of an eight-game season at left end. During that time, I caught several passes and scored a touchdown in our final game against the Woodland Wolves.

I had found the success I had longed for at CBS. By the end of the semester, I earned my first athletic letter: bravo.

My academics improved at Sacramento High too, from barely a C average to a B. That is not surprising.

By comparison to CBS, Sacramento High had much to offer.

CBS at that time, was a small all-boys prep-school wedged onto the corner of 21st Street and Broadway.

Sacramento High (one of the oldest high schools west of the Mississippi) sprawled out on a nearly one square-mile campus, which included a football field and a track, a baseball field, a men’s gym capable of seating 1,800 people, a women’s gym, an auditorium large enough to seat the entire student body, shops for technically-oriented students, and science and language labs.

In addition to these physical resources, Sacramento High had an outstanding faculty headed up by its diminutive principal Albert J. Sessarego who held a PhD from Stanford. Under Dr. Sessarego, Sacramento High flourished.

During my two years at Sacramento High, I went on to earn two more sports letters in Varsity track and to attain all the required course work for college.

In the end, although I did not prove to be “another great Relles,” at least I was a “good“ Relles. To this day, I thank Dr. Sessarago and his outstanding staff for my success.

Now my days at venerable old Sacramento High School are another happy Janey Way memory.

For those who either grew up on or near Janey Way or for those familiar with Marty’s column, it should come as no surprise that many people have a very deep-rooted love for this local street.

This fact is even more understandable since the street was constructed more than 60 years ago.

But nonetheless, the great number of stories that derive from Janey Way can seem quite remarkable when considering that the street is a mere 909 feet long and never included more than its current total of 32 houses – three of which are actually duplexes.

Certainly, this article is not intended to replace Marty’s popular column. So, be sure to read his current “Janey Way Memories.”

Instead, this first and only edition of “More Janey Way Memories” is presented solely to tell the story of one more person who grew up on Janey Way and his lifelong love for this East Sacramento street and his current project to preserve a portion of its past.

This person is Tom Hart, who grew up on Janey Way.

Tom, 57, who follows Marty’s column, is familiar with many of the column’s related stories and people and can sometimes even read about himself, is working on a project that will bring him back to his old neighborhood.

Dust has been flying, machinery has been running off and on and hammers have been pounding at the old Hart house since last July.

This activity, said Tom, who is of Scottish, Irish and English ancestry, is part of a project that will fulfill his dream to move back into his childhood home, where he grew up with his mother Rose (Hawkins) Hart, his sister – the former Susan Hart, now Susan Chevassau – and for a shorter period of time, his father, Bernie, who passed away in 1961.

“When my mother (who passed away in the home on Dec. 19, 2001) was sick and I was staying with her, we would talk in the evenings and one of the things that I told her is I wanted to move back home,” Tom said. “That really warmed her heart and made her feel happy that her son was going to be moving back home and back into the neighborhood.”

The remodeling project includes the addition of about 400 square feet of livable space with the expansion of the living room and master bedroom, a new master bathroom, a new laundry room and the addition of more closet space and a covered porch area behind the house. Additionally, the old garage was demolished and replaced with a two and a half-car garage, the roof and windows were replaced and new insulation was installed throughout the home.

Tom, a 1971 graduate of Sacramento High School, said that although he had hoped to move into the house with his wife Diana by Christmastime, he is now setting a more realistic goal of once again becoming a Janey Way resident by April.

The upgrading of the old Hart house helps to preserve one of the street’s older homes.

Research for this article revealed the following history of Janey Way:

According to the 1949 city directory, the first houses to be built on Janey Way – those of the late 1940s – were the homes of Ross Relles, James Tomassetti, Dante Viani and Jose “Joe” Micheli.

During the time their homes were built, Relles operated his well-known Relles Florist at 2200 J St., Tomassetti was a painter for the Western Pacific Railroad, Viani worked for Koro Products Co. at 2116 19th St. and Micheli was a bartender at the Square Deal Café at 5723 Folsom Blvd., where the Espanol Restaurant is now located.

Carmen Tomassetti, who married James Tomassetti on Aug. 14, 1948 and raised five children in her Janey Way home, said that she moved into her then-new house on Dec. 10, 1948.

“My house was built in 1948,” said Carmen, who is a native of Monte Porzio, Italy. “The first houses (on Janey Way) were built in 1948, then little by little different companies built different houses.”

The 1952 city directory shows the growth of the street by this time, as follows: Olin N. Boggs, Joseph C. Brady, Dominic J. Costamagna, Raymond Cullivan, Adelbert C. Jacobs, Richard Kinzel, Jr., Eugene E. McKnight, Jose Micheli, Gene C. O’Keefe, Virgil W. Petrocchi, Mateo Puccetti, Ralph Puccetti, Ross Relles, Joseph C. Romel, Loren E. Sizemore, Eugene R. Thomsen, James Tomassetti, Dante H. Viani, Louie E. Viani and three vacant homes. As an historical note, Janey Way no longer extended south of M Street to include its 1300s addresses by the late 1950s. This property is presently part of the site of St. Mary’s School.

Enzo Costa said that he moved into the neighborhood in 1972 and now lives in the last house that was built on Janey Way. He had the house constructed in 1976.

Tom, who with his wife, has three children, Angela, Rebecca and T.J., said that a prime example that his neighborhood is fairly old is the fact that Costa is considered one of Janey Way’s “new kids on the block.”

Costa may have had the last house built in the neighborhood, but as a resident of the street, he has much seniority over a family, for instance, who moved to a house on Janey Way about two years ago.

Fortunately, due to modern technology, most readers who are interested in seeing the old Hart house do not have to go further than their own computers to do so.

In order that Tom’s sister could observe various remodeling stages of the home, Tom has placed footage of these remodeling stages on the Web site www.youtube.com. The short videos, which currently present 13 remodeling stages, can be found using the search words: “Hart Janey Way remodel.”

Tom plans to load seven more videos onto the site to show a full-range summary of the project. He also plans to eventually take the main highlights of all his videos and combine them to create a 15-minute video that he will also post on the Web site.

Tom said that the simple fact that he desires to move back to his childhood house shows how special the home and its neighborhood and residents are in his heart.

“I just have so many fond memories of the place,” Tom said. “I’m coming full circle. My kids have grown and now I have a chance to come back home to be where still many of the neighbors live. Where, when I was smaller, these neighbors would take care of me, now I’m coming back home, so I can take care of them.”

lance@valcomnews.com

My uncle George Relles coached football at Sacramento High when I was growing up, so every year our whole extended family attended the “turkey day” football game at Hughes Stadium. Back in the 1950s and ’60s, the whole town showed up for this Thanksgiving Day classic. As many as 15,000 fans filled the stadium for this big game between local high school rivals Sacramento and C.K. McClatchy.

Uncle Ross Relles usually arrived early to reserve seats for our whole family. Prior to the game, the marching bands of both schools paraded out onto the field to play the national anthem. Then the teams poured out onto the field: Sac in its dark purple and white uniforms and McClatchy in red and white. These contests were usually hard-fought and exciting, and when they were over, we were hungry.

So then, we piled into our cars and headed over to Grandma Petta’s house on 14th Avenue for our Thanksgiving celebration. She had a wonderful old house that featured a full size lot on one side that had a garden, an old barn and a chicken coop – providing lots of room for kids to run wild.

The living quarters of her home sat on the second floor with a full house basement below. The basement included a pantry filled with the food which Grandma canned; a cooking area with a Wedgewood stove and an antique wooden ice box; Grandpa Petta’s wine making room; and an old circular washing machine complete with a ringer for drying out the laundered clothes. Her basement was also piled with old furniture and other items family members hoarded making it a perfect place for children to explore.

Grandpa, however, had other ideas and usually did all he could to expel us from the basement when we snuck down there to play.

The back yard had a full size swing set with a tall slide for the kids to play on. Going to Grandma’s house provided lots of play time for all the twenty children in our extended family. We always looked forward to those times.

By 4 p.m., Grandma Petta had set the extended dining room table and adorned it with Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings: turkey, her famous rice stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, peas, slices of her homemade bread and salad with dressing made from olive oil and Grandpa’s own wine vinegar. After dinner came desert – pumpkin pie piled with whipped cream. Then, while the adults drank coffee and conversed at the big table, the kids went out for more raucous play.

By the end of the day, totally satisfied and utterly exhausted, we headed home.

I will never forget the fun we had celebrating Thanksgiving at Grandma Petta’s house – another heart- warming Janey Way memory.

marty@valcomnews.com