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David Mitchell
I finally found this photo from about 1982 at the Disneyland hotel. Those are my kids at about ages 10, 9, and 6 while we were still living in Denver. Mary and I took the kids on a 5-day trip to Disneyland, staying at the Disney hotel right outside the park itself.
So I get this idea to call Steve ("Father Robert", of the Norbertine Fathers) and arrange to see him while we are there. I called the L.A. diocese office and asked for his location and number. "He's at St. Stephens parish, but he lives at the Norbetine Order's mother house down in Orange county". I call St. Stephens and they don't even know him at all. So I call the Orange county diocese and ask for him. "Oh he's at the Norbertine mother house and I take that number and place another call. "Oh he's not here all the time, he's teaches at Mater Dei High School in L.A. and they give me that number. I call there and they say, "Oh, he stays at St. Stephens-King of Hungary parish (not the other St. Stephens - of course not) in East L.A during the school year". I call St. Stephens-King of Hungary church office and find out that Steve says Mass in the only quadra-lingual parish in the U.S. He says the Masses in German and Spanish, while the old Hungarian pastor says the Masses for English and Hungarian parishioners - don't ya love this? But also that "Father Robert is away visiting his family in Columbus Ohio." $b&-"E3d0(*&# !!!
What the heck I thought, I'll give it a shot. So I call his home and get Dr. Hodges on the phone - world's nicest guy, and he won't let me off the phone - wants to know every bit of my life since high school. After about 5 minutes he says, "Oh Steve is right here, shall I put him on?" (Naa, I just called to see how you were doin'.)
Okay, as it turns out, Steve would be back in L.A. the following week and would love to see us. He came out and joined us for dinner there at the hotel and we had a wonderfull time. But dinner was really not enough for either of us, so we agreed to let Mary and the kids go off while we walked the extensive grounds (with lakes and paddle boats shown behind photo) and talked for hours.
But here's where it gets fun. I had to go back to our room for a minute and drop something. Steve and I walk back into the main lobby and get on the elevatator. The doors open and there is a very short, young teenage black kid wearing a bright orange jump suit and sunglasses, and I recognize him immediately. As I am too shy to aproach famous people I said nothing (I once rode the elevator at my student R.E. appraisal job in Denver with Woody Allen -filming "Sleeper"-and never spoke to him either).
Steve and I turned our backs to the wal and grabbed the railing behind us as this young man did, and we all three stood silently in a row facing out of the elevator. As the doors are about to close, two little 14 year-old girls come running into the elevator as the closing doors clip their ankles and they literally fall into the elevator at our feet. They stand up, hand him small writing tablets and a pen and he signs them as they giggle with excitement.
Steve and I get off at the second floor and as we are walking back to my room Steve says in a very animated voice, "What the heck was that all about?" I said, "Steve, don't you know who that was?" He says "I have no idea!" So I said, "Didn't you know that was Michael Jackson?" He says, "You mean the little kid who used to sing on TV with his brothers?" "Yes, that one." He was sort of stunned. And after we got back outside, we kept seeing a hotel golf card with a security guard driving Michael around the grounds with a dozen little girls chasing them at a distance.
Steve and I have laughed about this every time we see each other over the years, and he loves to tell me how much grief he took from his younger nieces for years.
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