Stan Faddis, Probation Officer, Part 2

By far, the most fun I had in Juvenile Hall was when I worked with  Dario Lerma. He was a veteran of the Hall and the good times we had made the eight hour shifts feel shorter. The kids loved him even though he made them toe the line. His humor was the best and we spent a lot of the time joking. The primary thing I learned from him was how to interact with the minors. We had fun with them, but never at their expense. I also learned a  lot about Mexican culture from Dario; about their work ethic and familial customs. One day he brought in to work some burritos his wife, Ramona had made for us. It was my first taste of chorizo con papa and huevos burritos (sausage, potato and egg). Sometimes he would button up his flannel shirt to the top button and act out being a “lowrider” calling everyone “esse” and “homes.” 

Dario was about ten years older than I and had worked there for ten years by the time I arrived. He is Mexican, born in El Paso, Texas and raised in Corcoran, California where his family worked as farm laborers. He told me, “I’m a cotton picker” and he wasn’t joking for once. He moved to San Jose to go to college, after which he got a job in Juvenile Hall in 1974. Four years after I was hired, Dario was promoted to Probation Officer. The Hall was not the same after he left. Dario’s hobby, it seemed was almost constantly trying to pull someone’s leg. During down times on the 7 AM to 3 PM shift, while all the minors were in school rooms in another building, we often listened to oldies on the radio. Dario, being older than I, really knew his oldies, or so I thought. We played a game in which we tried to name the tune, the artist and the year it was released. More than once, I caught him making up bogus facts and we always laughed about it. He once told me he used to write things on the bathroom wall like, “If you don’t like someone who works here, put their name below.” 

Juvenile Hall had a program called Foster Grandparents. Each weekday from about 10 AM to 2 PM elderly men and woman came to the units to spend time with the minors. It was meant to provide a homelike environment for the kids and it was great. Some of the nicest folks were employed by the program. The Foster Grandparents were paid a small stipend of about $2.50 an hour to talk to the kids, play cards, dominoes or board games. The ladies in the girls’ unit sometimes taught crocheting. Admittedly, not all of them were the stereotypical grandparent. Grandma Sally was a wicked card cheat,  Grandpa John would only play poker with the kids,  and Grandma Annette often had the smell of an alcoholic beverage about her person. 

One of the best pranks Dario ever played on me occurred on the 7-3 shift in Unit B4 where Grandma Annette was assigned as a Foster Grandparent. On that day, all the kids were at school, Dario and I were sitting behind the desk which was L-shaped and about four feet high. Grandma Annette who had seemed a little tipsy to us that day, was sitting at a table in the activity area, playing solitaire. Dario called out to her, “Grandma!” and ducked down so she couldn’t see him. She looked over toward the desk to see me sitting there with this stupid look on my face. I was embarrassed and told Dario to knock it off. He stayed down until he thought she wasn’t looking anymore. He popped back up and said in a louder voice, “Grandma!” and ducked again, laughing quietly. She looked at me again and the only thing I could think of to say was, “It wasn’t me, Grandma.”  She went back to playing cards and again Dario hollered, “Grandma!” and went back down. This proved too much for the poor woman. She looked at me and yelled, “What the f**k do you want?!” I stood up, grabbed Dario and picked him up high enough for her to see him and told her it was him had had been calling her.  He busted up laughing but did not apologize for messing with her. A real riot he was. 

Another thing about Lerma was that nothing ruffled his feathers and he was always calm. He didn’t let anything get to him and he rarely raised his voice to the kids.  In short, he was very laid back, or it was just an act.

One day we were working in B4 on the day shift. All the kids were in school and we were sitting behind the desk with the radio playing. We had about thirty minutes to do nothing before we had to walk over to pick up the school groups to escort them back to the unit. Dario was reading the San Jose Mercury News, holding up the paper so that it obscured his view which was no big deal since there were no kids to keep an eye on. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. The bright fluorescent light above us was irritating so I reached over, grabbed a clean towel from the cabinet and draped it over my eyes. A small amount of light leaked in at the side. 

We sat listening to the music, chatting for about 20 minutes. Then, I saw some movement through that small opening of the towel. I pulled it off to look and there stood our SGC with her hands on her hips, glaring at us and not saying a word. Her name was Lynette Takamoto, a short, stocky woman of Japanese descent. Dario still had the paper in his face and he had no clue she was there. I reached over and slapped him on the arm. “Dario,” I said, Mrs. Takamoto is here. Lerma looked over the top of the newspaper and said, “Oh. Hello, Lynnette.” Then he raised the paper back up and went back to reading. Me? My mind was racing and worried we had been “caught.” Miss Takamoto told Lerma to put down the paper and said, “I just walked all the way up that hallway without either of you seeing me. I said, “Sorry.” Lerma said nothing, he just sort of smiled. She advised, “Something like this had better not ever happen again.” She then turned and walked away without another word. When she had exited the unit and was out of earshot, Dario said, “A man can’t take a nap or read the paper in this place without being hassled.” He went back to reading his newspaper. Mr. Unflappable.