Birthplace: Avila Beach, Califonia
Date of Birth: 2/4/1921
Joe came into our lives, as many did, with his friendship with Grandpa Rudy and Big Bill. He worked with Union Oil for many years as their chief mechanic and Big Bill was his boss. Joe was one of the most generous and kindhearted guys I ever knew, but was as tough as anybody if you challenged his ability or his word. Although he was probably only five and a half feet tall (which tagged him with the nickname “Little Joe”), he could out work and out hunt the best of them. Prior to the war, Joe did some boxing and was pretty good, good enough that no one twice his size took him lightly. During the World War II, Joe was with the Merchant Marines. He was blown from a ship on two separate missions, placed with the army and served in the infantry after being rescued, and survived two suicide runs in the islands. That’s an indication of how tough Joe was.
Over the years, many people have supported keeping the Ranch going, but nothing can match Joe’s contribution. Joe’s work included adding most of the existing water lines and newer water tanks to the Ranch, single-handedly building the extension on the kitchen, the horseshoe pits, and storage shed, and purchasing and installing the current cast iron kitchen stove. He also rebuilt the skinning ramp, added a water tank, planted the flowers that bloom every spring, and put up the wood fence at the Ranch entryway. Each year he would also cut firewood for the cabin, and provide enough for anyone who needed it. Occasionally he would even surprise someone by delivering a load of fire wood to their house, and bear in mind, Joe didn’t have a fireplace at home so he never used any of the wood he cut.
I hunted with Joe for many years, learning from his patience and skills. I also learned that Joe could walk like a mountain goat, shoot like sniper, and had the eyesight of hawk. Many times during our hunts Joe would point out deer that I would either never see or only see after they moved. Joe was the one who taught me the technique of the neck shot. If Joe shot at it, it was dead! Joe also instituted the infamous “slipper hunt”. This was essentially an afternoon drive where Joe would put on his slippers after napping and then drive to Santa Margarita to get a newspaper and some ice. It really wasn’t a hunt, but somehow Joe managed to bag a buck on many occasions before even getting to the first gate. It happened so often when Amos was a young boy; he believed every time Joe put his slippers on there would be a buck in camp.
I remember time when I was hunting this big buck that kept eluding me for the previous three weeks. Donnie came out and I knew with the two of us we could get that deer. The next morning I kicked the deer out but unfortunately I didn’t have Donnie in the right spot. I had to leave that day but Joe arrived before I left. I told Joe exactly where the deer was and how to get him out of his nest. The next day, Joe kicked the deer to Donnie who was in the right spot this time, and the horns are now hanging in the living room.
Nobody was as generous and loved the Ranch more than Joe. Many times he would pick up Grandpa Rudy and they would spend their days at the Ranch enjoying each other and the quiet, peaceful beauty of the Ranch. He loved the quiet, he loved to hunt alone, and he always was doing something to make a contribution. By the way, Joe also introduced us to ‘Garbola’.
Joe has been part of the Estrada family for many years, as is his wife Edna and son, Andy. That relationship started with the loving good-nature of a small man with a giant heart. Nothing will ever replace Joe’s contribution to the Ranch or to our lives. He lives in everything that is good about the Ranch and in us all.
Thanks, Joe.
Bill Jr., 2005
