There is something really gratifying about this. A family legacy. (Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’ve resisted the urge to call it a “concrete legacy.” Though it is one.)
My father founded E. C. Construction Company with the help of his brother Ernest in South El Monte, California, in 1948. It did grading, asphalt paving, streets and curbs and gutters, specialized concrete factory slabs, etc. (Under my brother, it even built the special pool at Paramount Studios in which Red October was hunted. It has done lots and lots of work for companies like Southern California Edison and Paramount.)
I myself worked for the company most summers from sometime during high school (say, around 1968 or 1969) through graduate school (until I joined the faculty at BYU in the fall of 1985). So it’s even possible that I worked on the job represented on the left, above. I certainly knew the guys who did, such as Tino Beltran, his brothers Hank and Frank, Red Faler, Charlie Felix, Ken Harper, Jack Paige, etc.. They’re mostly if not all gone now, but I remember them well and with affection.
My Uncle Ernie died suddenly in 1973, while I was on my mission in Switzerland. My father lost enthusiasm for the business after his brother’s death — it just wasn’t fun for him anymore — but he remained centrally involved until something like 1976 or 1977, when he turned it over to my brother, (strictly speaking, to my half brother, Kenneth Walters, the only brother and only sibling I ever had). My brother, in his turn, led the company until his sudden death late in March of 2012, and today his son, my nephew John Walters, leads the family business. It’s very nearly sixty-five years old now — no mean feat in even the best of economies, and a stellar accomplishment given the current economic condition of California and the United States.