The boy was visiting his mother in a sanatorium in southern California when a family friend asked if he could deliver a message for him. The friend was a young army officer from Peru who like the boy’s mother was also being treated for tuberculosis. The boy agreed and soon hopped on the blue line headed for the Chilean consulate in Los Angeles. After a brief ride, he entered the imposing building and was asked to sit and wait. In a few moments a distinguished looking lady emerged and he gave her the note. The lady thanked the boy and offered him some cookies and cocoa. While he enjoyed the snack she talked to him for a few minutes. When he was finished, she walked the boy to the door, and told him to “always work hard, keep up your studies, and take care of your family.”
It was the early 1940’s and the world was in the midst of a second great war. The lady was Lucila Godoy y Alcayaga, also known as Gabriela Mistral. She was a diplomat, educator, feminist and writer who later was the first Hispanic to receive a Nobel Prize in literature. The boy later said that he never forgot the conversation nor the simple advice he received during that brief meeting early on in his life.
The boy’s mother recovered thanks to cutting edge treatment that she received paid for by the boy and his father working long hours at multiple jobs during her treatment. His mother and father were immigrants to the country and, though you would never know it from listening to him speak, his first language was not English. His parents believed in education and hard work, and they provided their son with music lessons from an early age. He quickly excelled and was able to literally play the piano by ear. He had his own band by the time he was in junior high and played throughout southern California. He later said that music saved him from getting more involved in gangs that were prevalent in southern California, even in those days.
In college, he worked for the school paper and met and wrote about many people, including American jazz performer and composer, Gene Krupa. One of his early teachers was a visiting anthropology professor named Margaret Mead. He was the first in his family to complete both high school and college, graduating with an associate’s degree in science.
The young man enlisted in the Air Force after completing his studies with the hope of becoming a pilot. He finished his training at Lackland Air Force Base in Texas and was assigned to work at Eglin Air Force Base, in Pensacola, Florida. His boss, then Colonel, and later General, Paul Tibbets, was the base commander. Several years earlier, Tibbets was commissioned by President Roosevelt to fly the plane that dropped the bomb that helped to end the Second World War. He was then the supervisor who allowed the young airman to moonlight after hours, where he played jazz from Fort Walton Beach to New Orleans.
It was in Florida where the young man met the love of his life, a 20-year-old, former cheerleader from Boise, Idaho. She, unlike many young women in those days, joined the service to see the world. They married in 1955 and shortly afterwards both were honorably discharged from the military. The young man later said that this period in his life was among the best years, no doubt due in part at least to the sunny beaches, youthful diversions, and many lasting friendships that he made there.
The man and his wife moved to southern California where they established a restaurant in Anaheim. Soon after, an amusement park opened across the street from their business. The restaurant unfortunately did not last long, but the amusement park is still entertaining millions of visitors each year, many sporting now iconic mouse ears.
The man went back to college and in a couple of years he completed a bachelor’s degree in Political Science. He soon landed a position working for the state as a parole agent. Promotions came quickly and less than 10 years later he was selected to head a first of its kind task force made up of FBI, local police agencies, and federal border officials who worked closely with the Mexican government to crack down on crime across the border. Later he wrote, produced, and gave a highly acclaimed film, Basta, to the state of California. The work provided much-needed training about prison gangs, a topic that up to that time was not given serious consideration. He was eventually appointed as California’s first Latino, Deputy Director of the State Department of Corrections, by the then governor, Jerry Brown, who interestingly holds the same position again today.
Before retiring, the man now a grandfather was credited with helping to thwart a prison break at San Quentin State Prison that was being planned by Charles Manson. At San Quentin, he also met Carlos Santana, who he later “jammed” with. He was also interviewed on the popular news television show 60 Minutes about his career and expertise with prison gangs which in part due to his ground breaking work was now recognized as an important problem that plagues prisons across the U.S.
After retiring the grandfather moved to the desert and worked for Sonny Bono’s city administration in Palm Springs. He was hired as the youth court coordinator through an innovative program that employed peers to hear and sentence youth offenders. During this time, he also consulted for Paramount Studios on the making of “American Me” which was a movie produced by Edward James Olmos. He later obtained his private investigator’s license and founded a consulting firm that specialized in working on cases that involved the death penalty.
During his life he traveled from Europe to Asia, helped to raise 5 children, had 7 grandchildren, and was married over 50 years. He also published articles, taught, mentored many, and had more friends, famous, infamous, and regular, than most of us will ever know. He worked almost up to the end of his life writing and consulting before finally passing on.
Shortly before he died, I asked him if he had any regrets. He looked at me with tired but alert eyes and said quite simply that he really had none and that he felt he was blessed with a wonderful life to which I responded, “Yes Dad you were!”
My father, Anthony Casas, Sr. (1929 – 2006), has been gone 5 years yesterday, and I feel fortunate to have known him and now you know a little about his life as well. As dad often said, because he was a musician at heart, “be cool!”
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