In the early morning of Friday, January 2, 2015, in Los Angeles, California, Teopisto San Antonio San Juan was called by God to His Heavenly Kingdom, at the age of 102. He died peacefully in his sleep. He led a full and blessed life. He had the opportunity to experience the Great Depression, World War II, and travelled the world, and lived to share his story. He married the love of his life, Lourdes San Luis Mangona, and had three daughters. It would have been their 62nd wedding anniversary on January 11th.
He was born on September 7, 1912, in Morong, Rizal, Philippines, to the parents of Lorenzo and Alfonza San Juan. He had one older sister, Ashang. At the age of seven his mother died and was forced to quit school to help his father on the farm and fished to earn a decent living. At the age of 21, he decided to go the United States to work as a farm laborer. In late 1933, he boarded a Japanese freighter in Manila bound for San Francisco, California, and arrived a few months later.
Teopisto was very happy when he landed his first job in Salinas, California, as a farm laborer earning 35¢ an hour, plus room and board. In 1935, he moved back to San Francisco and worked as a janitor earning $30 per month, plus room and board. In 1936, Teopisto moved to Los Angeles and worked as a houseboy at the Beverly Hills Hotel, earning $70 per month, plus room and board. In 1939, he went back to San Francisco to see the World's Fair at Treasure Island and decided to stay. On December 7, 1941, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, and life changed. In 1942, he enlisted as a civilian Merchant Marine for the Navy/Army transport ship, transporting troops, weapons and equipment. Teopisto was assigned and reassigned to a total of 13 Navy/Army transport ships holding various positions, including being a waiter to generals and other ship officers, until he resigned in 1953. The Merchant Marines gave him the opportunity to travel throughout the world, visiting major ports of the United States, France, England, Germany, Ireland, Spain, Portugal, Guam, etc.
It was on one of his voyages, in 1949, that he was able to return to the Philippines to see his father for the first time since his departure to the United States in 1933. A few months later, his father passed away.
Teopisto was very proud when he became a U.S. Citizen in 1949. Although he became a U.S. Citizen, he never forgot his birthplace, his family, and his "kababyans" (friends). He was a proud member of the Progressive Youth of Morong in America, also known as the PYMA, since 1934 to 2015.
In 1950, he was attending a "senaculo" (Passion of Christ) in Ibaba, Morong, Rizal, when he fell in love with a young woman selling "bibingka" (rice cake). He bought all of her bibingka and three years later, they were married on January 11, 1953. One year later, she arrived in Los Angeles where Teopisto and Lourdes began their life together. While raising their family, Teopisto and Lourdes opened their home to family and friends migrating to the U.S. from their hometown of Morong. Everyone was welcome to stay for one night or five years, it did not make a difference. It was all about helping your "kababayan". He worked as a waiter at the Luau Restaurant in Beverly Hills, California, and eventually retired from the Castaway's Restaurant in Burbank, California, after 30 years of service. The rest is history.
He is survived by his wife, Lourdes, his three daughters, Loraine, Diana, and Patricia; his eight grandchildren: Jessica, Janice, Kristin, Matthew, Andrew, Christopher, Pamela, and Brandon; a great-grand daughter, Savannah Jade; and his son-in-laws, Jesse, Noel, and Larry, and a grand-son-in-law, Ken.
Teopisto leaves his family with his strong faith in God and belief in being a hard worker, honest, loyal, faithful, and trustworthy. He also leaves us with his sense of humility. He will be missed for his wisdom, humor, and generosity.
Our family has been blessed with a loving husband, loving father, loving grandfather, loving great-grandfather, and father-in-law.
Thank you, Lord, for bringing this man into our lives.