BASQUE ORAL HISTORY PROJECT

INTERVIEW TAPE INDEX

NAME:  Jim “Jimmy” Jausoro
DATE OF INTERVIEW:  October 15, 1991
(The date mentioned on the tape is January 29, the year not specified)
LOCATION:  Jim Jausoro’s home, Boise
INTERVIEWER:  John Bieter
LANGUAGE:  English
TAPE NO:
INDEXED BY:  Juliana Jausoro Aldape
 

TAPE MINUTE         SUMMARY OF CONTENTS

Tape 1

Side 1

0–5:00            Describe what it was like growing up in Nampa.  Our neighborhood was predominantly Basque with Basque families on both sides of the street.  We ran a boarding house, the Spanish Hotel, and had as many as 10-30 herders that mom (Tomasa Mallea) was feeding at any one time.  The length of time that they stayed varied, depending on the season and how close they were to their work in the hills.  Many came in and out and left a pack with us.  They usually paid monthly for their board and room.  Often they would come in by train, and it was my job to meet them at the station, which was only 250 yards away.  I would pull their bedrolls in my little wagon.  There were other boarding houses nearby too where herders could stay.  The Piemonte across the street was run by the Brunos, an Italian family.  One of their daughters married one of the Basabe sons, John.  The Bastidas also had a boarding house nearby.  There wasn’t really competition for the boarder.  Sometimes the herder might go where they liked the looks of the women.  There was a lot of socializing and visiting from one boarding house to another. 

 5–7:00            How did your parents get involved in the Spanish Hotel?  Many people of that time went into the hotel business or farming, and dad (Tomas Jausoro) bought the hotel and set up the family there after he left the mines in Silver City.  The hotel had been built and owned by George Urquiaga, who had been a carpenter.  He had named it the Spanish Hotel.  (Older sister Marie and older brother Joe had been born at Delamar; older sister Dolores “Lola” and older brother Louie were born in Silver City; Jimmy and younger brother Tony were born in Nampa.)  The family ran the hotel, even after father died.  Mother had a stroke in 1944 that left her partially paralyzed.  Sister Lola took care of her since sister Marie was already married.  Mother died in 1946. 

 7–14:00            Describe a typical day and how the work was divided.  On a school day I would go get the soup bone, which was huge and cost only 10¢, from King’s Butcher Shop.  Lakeview School was 5 blocks away, and I would come home and take care of chickens, rabbits, and the goat.  Brother Joe took care of the cow.  On Saturday I had to clean and polish the hardwood floor in the big dining room and clean the big copper spittoons.  The girls had the job of making the beds and setting the table.  We all took turns cleaning and drying the dishes.

On Sundays we went to Church first thing.  It was a quiet day and we might go to a move in the afternoon.  Dad’s ritual in the afternoon was to start a card game with Candido Mendiguren, who would walk over from town.  The women—Mrs. Gabica, Navarro, Ereño, Ansotegui—played Briska or Casino on many evenings.  They played for pennies and had great arguments.  When dad was in the mines, his co-workers were mostly Mexican and Italian, a few Germans but no Basques.  There were usually six men on a gang.  When he left the mines, an Italian named Charlie Crispino got him a job working on the section.  His ritual was that he would leave the hotel and drive to Kuna and back for work.  Dad helped with the boarders and chores in the evenings.  There were many txikitos after the evening meals.  Dad developed a sickness called Miners’ Consumption and died a young man in the spring of 1938. 

 14-21:00            Who did you play with growing up?  What were the ethnic groups in Nampa?  My friend Charlie came in on his bicycle.  Lucas, Isidro, Louie, and Tony Bicandi and their sisters Santa and Pilar lived nearby.  There were the Gabicas, Jose and Michaela, and Joe and Jess and Marie and Salu.  Domingo Ansotegui lived across the street, and that’s where I first met him.  Domingo was older than I and had herded sheep with my brother Joe for Andy Little Sheep Company.  My three brothers and two sisters and I all grew up in the boarding house.  Typically my parents would speak to us in Basque and we would answer in English.  Marie, Joe, Lola, and Louie spoke a lot of Basque.  Tony and I didn’t speak as much.  My parents spoke very good English, but they spoke Basque with each other.  My dad was from Guipuzkoa, and my mother was from Ereño.  My mother dealt a lot with non-Basque speaking people because of the hotel business—Chinese selling eggs, Japanese selling vegetables.  There were many Chinese and Japanese families, only a few Mexican families and no colored.  A family named Lalande had a French bakery right downtown.  The French were all Catholic as were the Czechs and Basques and many Germans. 

21-33:00         Did you learn the love of music and singing from your parents or did you learn on your own? What kinds of games did you play?  What are your best memories about growing up? Louie, Lola, and Tony were in the Glee Club and Marie was given singing parts in musicals.  Mom knew a lot of songs that she would sing and try to teach me.  The trikitixa songs have to be metered, and I would try to repeat them to her.  We didn’t have many songs other than in Spanish.  I learned to skate at an early age.  We played with a red metal hoop that had a stick guide and played Kick-the-Can and Run-Sheep-Run.  Just being around the herders and hearing their music provided some of the great memories.  Louie Barnes let me play his accordion, and I listed to John Urlezaga and Vic Arego from Boise.  Vic Arego played accordion at all the picnics in the 30s.  Your Tía Ageda (John Bieter’s mother’s aunt) let us play the button accordions that were stored at her house.  The toughest part was the herders’ tormenting us.  We spoke to them in Basque.  They would pay Louie and me to fight each other.  They played a game of seeing who could throw this rock the farthest.  It was a rock that had a piece of metal built into it.  I remember one guy throwing it and his finger went with it.  Some of the herders had no desire to return to the Basque Country.  They were better off here and were content to stay in Nampa.  Many never married.  If it were me, I think I would have liked to have gone back.  When I went back to the Basque Country with some of my family, I saw a couple of the herders who had stayed at the Spanish Hotel.  Patxi Iturbe in Mondragon, Guipuzkoa, was a guard at a factory.  He cried when all of us went to visit him.  We visited another man we called Carnicero who was so emotional at seeing us.  He was in his last days. 

Side 2

0-7:00             What were your meals like?  Describe your schooling and education and if you felt any prejudice in Nampa.  We ate beans, potatoes, garlic soup every day, lettuce, vegetables, amandrogillas, tostados with potatoes, fruit for dessert.  I would find boxes and take them to the bakery, and Lalande would fill a box with bread or rolls for me to bring home.  I started school at five years old at Lakeview.  There are just some teachers you don’t take to, and I had one of those.  They liked me so well they kept me for another year in first grade.  I don’t recall ever being called a “Black Basco” except in a friendly gesture.  We jokingly called our French friends “frogs.”  Nobody would hold your background against you.  There was a lot of mutual respect.  My parents didn’t speak of animosity or disrespect or problems with race.  I was never mistaken for any other ethnic group (Mexican, etc.); everybody knew you and knew you were Basque.  When I was growing up, Nampa was probably 13-15,000 people, the third largest city in Idaho after Boise and Pocatello.  We managed to come to Boise quite a bit and came to all the picnics.  Most of my family is in the picture taken in the park in 1934.  We traveled by car, but there was a trolley that ran back and forth too.  My parents viewed education as being important.  They made sure we were up every morning.  In my six years of grade school I prided myself on never being absent or tardy.  They did encourage us to speak English but we spoke English and Basque at home with the family and the guests.  Tía Ageda was one of many ladies who were over just about every afternoon or for a night session playing cards.  Dad played muz and got a card game going all the time; the cigar smoke was really thick. 

 7-21:00            How did you get going with music and your first accordion?  In 1933 I saved up $120 to buy myself an accordion.  Some of it came from a jackpot that I won at the hotel.  I bought the accordion from Charlie Johnson at the Samson Music Company where Lola Mendiguren, a pianist, worked.  I played with a guy from Nevada named Clete Bengoa and with various herders who played button accordions.  I got together with Domingo Ansotegui, and we both learned by ear.  At one point I told Domingo that we would have to do something different, not both play accordion, and he went on to tambourine and drums.  He got a cocktail set (drums) with a bass that stood upright, a snare, tom-toms, sticks—in about 1956 or 57.  Before that the Basque Ladies Social Club, La Organización Independiente Sociale, sponsored dances in the various boarding houses, starting about 1935.  We played in Nampa and Boise at Mateo Arregui’s, at Letemendi’s, at Patxi’s on Main Street.  They would pay us a little.  Chardio, Domingo’s uncle, played tambourine, as did Joe Anacabe.  We played all night—that was my life!  I took lessons for six or seven months from a lady named Frechette who traveled to Nampa from Boise teaching piano accordion.  I let it go for a while, then came back to it seriously in the late 30s.  Every Sunday night we would play someplace.  The biggest events were the Three Kings Dance and other dances through the holidays.  Other special days were picnic dances.  I learned from Vic Arego and really idolized him.  There was a Basque guy from Emmett named Mitchell who played and another guy named Arrieta.  My first accordion was a brand new Chromatic piano accordion that I paid $120 for.  I rode my bike to my lesson carrying my accordion in one hand and steering with the other.  Sometimes I got paid nickels and change by playing in the pool halls.  Before playing with Domingo I played with his uncle Chardio first, then John Arregui and Dick Lenhart.  Other musicians were Cecil Holmes and Ralph Fry on drums.  I formed the band in 1957.  Prior to that we played casually in Vail, Ontario, Nampa, Boise, for Basque or American events.

22-33:00          The first time I played publicly was in the pool halls.  Isabel Jausoro:  Jim won a trip when he was 15.  He entered a sponsored contest called “Amateur Hour.”  Jimmy:  I won it at the Adelaide theatre in Nampa; I was competing against other people who had different talents.  Among them was a girls’ dance group, which was instructed by one of the best teachers around named Florence May Vandesic.  There were six or seven different contestants.  Do you know why I won?  It was judged by applause and I knew every kid in that theater who clapped for me.  I rode a bus to Portland, saw KGEW studio and show, and was treated to a nice dinner and a nice place, the New Heathland Hotel.  Isabel brought out a Statesman story and picture about his trip and other articles.  In one article, Statesman paper carrier Jimmy Jausoro played “The Star-Spangled Banner” on his accordion as 250 Nampa high school youths on the school lawn demanded that the school observe Washington’s birthday.  The Glee club was singing and a major protest took place.  Jim got demerits for his participation.  There were also sports articles.  Tomas and Tomasa had no particular bias against sports, but Jim’s mother was very much opposed to his swimming, which he still does today.  Brother Joe taught Jim, and sister Lola helped him out by taking care of his wet suit so his mother wouldn’t see it.  Jim wasn’t a great swimmer but won a contest and a pocketknife prize for being able to hold his breath under water longer than anyone else.  At another time, as a paper carrier, he won a prize, a motor scooter, from the Statesman. 

Tape 2 

Side 1 

0-4:30              Name some of the highlights you’ve had over the years as a musician. 

l The trip to the Basque Country with Oinkaris in 1985, a 23-day tour.

l The National Heritage Cultural Award, nominated by the Idaho Historical Society, specifically coordinated by Steve Sapornum.  There were 13 of us in the country that received this award—for people who were preserving their culture in some form of folk art.  All who got this award performed in Washington, D.C.  Through the efforts of Congressman Symms and Pete Cenarrusa and others, there was funding to take 16 Oinkari dancers with me to D.C., and we put on various performances.

l The trip to the New York World’s Fair and to Washington, D.C., in 1964 with the Oinkaris.  We performed at the Fair and in D.C.  In the Senate Rotunda Building, we were met by the entire Idaho Congressional delegation, including Senator Frank Church.

l The trip to Las Vegas (about 1990) with Oinkaris, where the recipients of the National Heritage Award were reunited.

 4:30-10:00            What’s kept you going for 30 years and what have been the toughest things?  Working with the youth, meeting new people has been great.  We have the teenagers in Oinkaris and maybe they come back after college or while they have jobs.  We are not as close as we used to be, partly because I used to be closer in age to the dancers.  There were more activities that many of us did together, and we used to sing at every practice and performance and road trip.  I am 70 now, and I’ll keep doing it as long as I can.  No one seems to come up and want to play the instrument.  There is a lot of interest in guitars but no interest in accordions.  The toughest part is when you don’t feel good and still you go out and play.  And there have been times when the kids didn’t act like we expected.  But I have enjoyed it and have enjoyed playing the music.  Music livens you up!  It’s harder when there isn’t another musician.  There was a period of time after Domingo that I didn’t have a tambourine player; it was tough to play after Dom died.  We started to play together in the 30s.  We learned the music from record from Mexico—that was all there was available.  I learned the melodies from my mom and the ladies who sang Basque and Spanish songs.  Now there is Juan Zulaica as my tambourine player.

10:00-15:00            What has kept you in the Boise area?  When you don’t know anything different…I have been here since the last 30s.  In 1939 when Joe Albertson started his grocery store, I started my railroad career.  Lots of things have changed; we knew everyone in town.  The pace has changed.  Everyone had a home life.  Now there are so many activities, and the life of the herder is changed.  They used to like the picture shows and bowling and created the games like the rock throwing.  My dad took a 30- to 40-lb. rock to the blacksmith shop and had a handle attached.  It was Joe Sangroniz who got his finger stuck in it, and the finger went with the rock.  By the time they found the finger, it was too late to reattach it.  In the hotel our family, mom and dad and 4 boys and 2 girls, lived downstairs and the herders lived upstairs.  The Ansoteguis lived with us for a while, and there were 8 or 9 Basque families in one city block.

15-19:00            Did any non-Basque kids ever dance?  No, because of the Euzkaldunak by-laws that at least one of a kid’s parents in dancing or in Oinkaris had to be a member.  And to be a member, the parent needed to be at least part Basque.  There were many non-Basques interested but they couldn’t be accepted.  They could have filled that building many times with all the non-Basques who would have liked to be in Oinkaris.  Fifteen to 20 years ago there were many non-Basques running around with dancers, and they wanted to belong.  They had to cut it off.  Isabel mentioned that in 1948-49 when Jay (Juanita Uberuaga Aldrich Hormaechea) was teaching there was a Greek girl (a friend and neighbor of many Basques) who wanted to learn to dance.  Jay made the statement then that if she let her in, she would have to let everybody in.

19-20:00         Did your parents encourage or discourage you and your brothers and sisters to marry Basques?  Ours didn’t one way or the other—whatever we chose.  Oldest sister Marie married a Basque, Jess Bermensolo of Nampa.  Brother Joe and sister Lola married non-Basques.  Louie married a Basque, Lydia Sillonis of Mountain Home, and I married a Basque, Isabel Larrondo of Meridian.  Youngest brother Tony married a non-Basque. 

20-25:00            How do you view the future and the present state of the culture?  How much longer do you think you’ll play?  We are still maintaining it.  From a musician’s point of view, we have lost a lot of it to the modern music and country music.  We used to have these weddings and people would invite me to come and play.  Today kids like rock & roll.  We’re losing a little ground in our culture and not maintaining our Basque way of life like we know it.  We do have the classes in Oñati, but here the future doesn’t look good.  We used to have Basque language classes but not now.  We’re gradually losing some things.  The way of life is better in the Basque Country now, and there are few herders here any more—no reason to come here for a job.  The bizi modua is better today for them over there.  The herders now are Mexican or Peruvian, so it isn’t the same.  Hagerman, Gooding, Shoshone, Vail, Ontario—they all used to have Basque dances.  They are discontinued.  Our generation—older people—has given it up.  The younger ones are not particularly interested in Basque dances anymore.  Emmett has stayed by us; we’re going there the first week of March, providing the battalion in Emmett isn’t called into the Persian Gulf.  That’s a good question about how much longer I will continue to play because I think about that all the time.  Nobody has come up to volunteer, and I still enjoy it.  When I don’t enjoy it, I won’t keep it up any longer.  As long as they still want me to play, I will try to do the job.

25-26:00            When people ask you how you identify yourself, do think you’re American or Basque?  I am a Basque-American.  I always say I’m Basque.  You probably say the same thing.  When I was in the Basque Country, I said that I was Basque to a Guardia Civil at a station.  He said, “You are an American.”  I said, “Sí, señor, you got it!”  I like to think of myself as Basque even though I was born here.  I’ve been told that I’m an ethnic minority.  I say, “Yeah, I know that!”  I’m proud of it.

26-30:00            What do you think of the txistu coming into the music and dance?  It’s a fascinating instrument and a true Basque instrument.  They’ve been making those for tens of thousands of years, the originals made from the bones of prehistoric birds.  Many people have brought them here from the Basque Country.  Sabino Landaluce first played with us for Oinkaris in the early 60s.  A man from New Jersey played with us when we went to the New York World’s Fair [Sabino Landaluce ended up not making the trip] and helped us out.  At the present time we have a young lady just doing a terrific job by the name of Kathy Clarkson.  I can’t tell you how much respect I have for her.  She relieves me a lot, and we can do so many more numbers for performances by having both instruments (accordion and txistu); our repertoire is greater.  Kathy plays for most of the boy’s dances.  I play for the girls.  We sometimes do mixed together.  Josie Bilbao also helps when she’s in town.  Edu Sarria also plays.  I hope Kathy stays with us.

 30-31:00            What were your biggest performances?  The play at BSU was a big performance.  Also we had the play at the Morrison Center where we had others help us out—like Tacolo (John Chacartegui of Mountain Home, born in Lekeitio) and Marie Uberuaga (Boise).  “Nundik Nora” was a great performance.

Side 2

0–4:00             How have you been able to keep playing?  Have you thought about giving it up?  How did you fit playing in with your work?  It’s been my life!  There have been times when maybe the kids haven’t behaved the way we expected them to, and I have thought about giving it up—more often in the last few years.  I could walk away from it and not miss it as much as at one time.  There is no one else they can call on right now.  Sometimes playing didn’t work out well with work, and I often went to work tired.  I was really lucky to be able to get off nearly whenever I needed to.  One time I couldn’t get off for Winnemucca for a dance at the Martin Hotel.  When I didn’t show up Pepper Martin said I cost him $500 and he never did forgive me.  This particular time I couldn’t find a sub for work.  Isabel:  In all these years we’ve never taken a vacation without an accordion.

4-7:00             How many accordions have you had?  I started with a piano accordion with mother-of-pearl keys.  I regretted selling it.  I still like today the accordions called the ladies models, which usually weigh 20-21 lbs.—3-4 lbs. less than the others.  I have probably owned more than 7 accordions, with 10-12 upgrades.  I always try to get a used one because of the expense.  I did buy a new one in San Francisco and in New York in 1954.  Especially in the early days repairs came often with the need to re-tape the bellows or reeds would break, especially during winter months.  There was a man in Nampa who could fix them—now no man around here can do repairs.  I go to Seattle or Portland.  There is a guy in Leavenworth, WA; it’s a 3-day trip to get the accordion fixed.  I use my railroad pass for travel. 

7-9:00            Where did you get the music that you have played?  Someone in the Basque Country?  Were there players from over there you listened to?  Early on I had no access to it.  I played just what they sang to me.  Even when I was over there, I couldn’t get it [sheet music].  There was a guy in Guernica who wrote out a little for me.  It was a lot easier when tapes came out.  It was simple to write from the tape.  As far as players from over there, there was a Jose Maria in the 50s that I never did see over there.  There was Yanci Pepe who was still active in 1985 and who saw us in Donosti.  I looked up Pepe’s address and he was right next-door.  He was practicing with a student and he invited us to come in and listen.  Then he saw us at the Plaza and watched us dance.  We met him again in Lesaka; he died within a year of the visit. 

 9-11:00             How have the Oinkaris changed over the years?  They’re not as close.  Individually they have more activities and working more.  I’m in my 70s, and we don’t have the same interests.  It used to be very common for us to sing together and do activities together; we don’t do that today.  Several of the members were already older when the first group got started.  Simon (Achabal), Al (Erquiaga), and Toni (Murelaga Achabal) were already in their 20s—Simon being the oldest. 

11-13:00          When you first started playing (for Oinkaris), it was you and Domingo?  Did (Sabino) Landaluce (a txistu player) play at all?  He played with us on our first major road trip as Oinkaris—the Seattle World’s Fair (Exposition 1962).  He quit after that—right before the New York (World’s Fair June 1964) trip.  He wanted to take his oldest boy and there was a conflict with the age limit of his son (to go as a dancer).  [During the period prior to the New York trip, Jimmy had to learn to play all the music that Landaluce had been playing on the txistu, mainly for all the boys’ dances.]  When we were in New York and played at the church in Manhattan, there was a guy living in New Jersey, a txistulari, who helped us out.  He helped us with a few other performances on that trip.  That was four years after we started as Oinkaris, and we were in Brooklyn and Manhattan in New York (and in Washington, D.C. in 1964). 

13-20:00             What are the things that stick out the most in your mind looking back on 30 years?          One highlight in the award in Washington, D.C.—the National Endowment for the Arts.  There are quite a few things that stick out.  One was a tour up north, in 1972 when we chartered a plane out of Missoula, went to Billings, and to Moscow in the U of I gymnasium for a performance.  We started playing the flag dance.  Everybody stood up in reverence to our flag.  We had a full house that summer.  It was a great feeling when we displayed the American and Basque flags—never seen it before where everyone stood.  We also crisscrossed Utah.  When we pulled into Salt Lake and got to our hotel and were lined up there as Basque Dancers, we were asked, “What ward are you from?”  We answered, “We’re not from any ward; we’re Catholic.”  We were told that we were scheduled to perform in the Mormon Temple and that we could not perform there.  They also couldn’t put us up or feed us—just because we were not Mormons.  So we called John Ascuaga (owner of the Golden Nugget in Sparks, NV) and told him of our predicament.  We loaded up the plane and flew over the Wasatch and went to Sparks.  We had our picture taken with an elephant.  [The elephant picture was probably a different trip than in conjunction with the Utah trip.]  Chris Bieter was on that trip (to Utah).  They made me feel bad and whenever Mormons ask us to play, I turn them down. 

20-31:00         Comment on . .  the early days ’60-65, always running  into someone you knew on trips, the Walt Disney movie, the group (Oinkaris) change.  In the early days, we sang lots of songs—not necessarily just Basque songs.  There was more ambiance.  There was a French Basque guy who sponsored us in Grand Junction, CO; another guy I knew from the Navy named Urruti.  I recognized him and nudged him—Al (Erquiaga, Dance Director) couldn’t believe it.  About in 1962 we made “Greta, the Misfit Greyhound.”  “Tacolo” (John Chacartegui of Mountain Home) was in it.  It was about a race track dog, and they needed Basque herders to make it authentic.  Tacolo was the sheepherder.  Domingo Aguirre (Mountain Home sheep rancher) provided lots of help.  Larry Lansberg filmed it independently and sold it to Disney.  Lansberg had won an Oscar for a film in Mexico, “The Horse with the Flying Tail.”  It was a great time trying to teach Tacolo the lines, walking around the sagebrush.  Sangroniz (cousin of James Sangroniz, a current Oinkari at this time) was in it—he played the spoons in the movie.  Guys were dancing.  We had to caution Tacolo and others not to cuss in Spanish because part of the film crew was Mexican, and they understood.  We got about $25 a day, and we got a couple of days’ worth.  There have been a number of presidents and directors.  They follow about the same procedures.  They always try to get new dances—ever since 1960 when the original group went there.

Tape 3

0-3:00             How about with your own children—did you teach them at home?  Were you gone more in summer than in winter?  I’m glad both girls (Marie Jausoro Day and Anita Jausoro) were in it.  They enjoyed it.  When they were younger, there were probably times when I was gone too much.  For example, one Christmas Eve I was called upon to play someplace and I went.  Maybe I should have been home with my family.  In earlier days winters were busier because herders were in town and there were more dances.  The Basque Women’s Club or the boarding houses would sponsor our dances.

3-5:00             Who sticks out as being the best among the dancers ?  Al (Erquiaga) was an excellent dancer in the original group.  Mo (Morrie Berriochoa) does a good job with kicking.  So does Tony Eiguren.  The crowd likes that.  Maite Ysursa was a dancer with grace and poise.  [Jim meant to say Maite Urza, a dancer in ’63-65 or so, who was a candidate for Miss Boise, performing a jota with Jim accompanying her.]  There have been many excellent, competitive dancers.  Al, John Bieter, Johnny Y (Ysursa), and Chris (Bieter) have been great leaders and teachers—helping young dancers one-on-one, who sometimes didn’t know left from right.

5-6:00             Conclusion—Other dancing groups have been spurred on because of Boise Oinkaris.  And I’ll keep playing with the group as long as they want a musician.  Live music makes it better—gives an advantage.