Vigil marks 40th anniversary of Cal State Fullerton shooting

Paul Paulsen stood beneath the canopy formed by seven trees at the Cal State Fullerton Memorial Grove on Tuesday evening and reflected on the meaning behind them: one planted for each of the seven people killed in a shooting rampage 40 years ago by a janitor who worked at the college.

Over those decades, the young trees have grown into majestic pines, and if a visitor stops and listens closely, he can almost hear the long-silenced voices in the rustling of branches.

Like that of his older sister, Debbie.

On Tuesday night, Paulsen was among about 50 people at a candlelight vigil marking the 40th anniversary of the massacre, which until recently was Orange County’s worst mass killing.

Family members, university employees and law enforcement officials took turns addressing the crowd, urging unity in the face of growing discord across the country after numerous cases of gun violence.

Paulsen began by thanking those in attendance, saying each person’s presence affirmed the unbreakable bonds of community.

He spoke about his sister, the “quintessential flower child,” who played acoustic guitar badly, embraced the British Invasion and was a magnet for stray and abandoned animals. She named her Alaskan husky Clancy after the Buffalo Springfield song, “Nowadays Clancy Can’t Even Sing.”

Paulsen has regularly visited the memorial, which serves as a living tribute to the seven people killed and two wounded on July 12, 1976, by Edward Charles Allaway.

They were professors, custodians, students and artists, who all had known their killer.

Allaway, who was eventually deemed mentally ill, went from room to room in the campus library, firing 23 rounds during the attack and killing Debbie Paulsen, Frank Teplansky, Stephen L. Becker, Seth Fessenden, Paul F. Herzberg, Bruce A. Jacobson and Donald E. Karges.

He wounded Maynard Hoffman and Donald W. Keran, who have both since died.

Allaway was found guilty of the shooting by reason of insanity and remains at Patton State Hospital in San Bernardino.

Grief has never been far away for surviving family members and friends.

“She had such promise,” Paulsen said about his sister. “Debbie was a gentle, caring and compassionate soul, which makes the circumstances of her death a cruel irony.”

Debbie thrived in academics and was a graduate student in English literature. She wanted to be a professor. In the meantime, she worked as a custodian at the college to finance her degree. She’d work morning shifts, then go to night classes.

She would never see her 27th birthday.

Pat Almazan lost her father, Frank Teplanksy, a graphic artist who worked in the campus media center.

He was a gifted pianist, self-taught magician and talented caricaturist, who once illustrated a book for Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.

“People will ask me, ‘Why don’t you have closure?’ but you can’t put a time limit on grief,” said Almazan, 70. “For some, it’s short, but for others, it’s a lifelong pain of remembering a loved one’s murder.”

Almazan has tried. She visited the killer in 2006 to try to find an answer to the misery and put some of the pain to rest. But when she asked why he had targeted her father, Allaway said he couldn’t remember. At that moment, she knew he wasn’t going to reveal anything.

Almazan’s grief has fueled her efforts to ensure that Allaway remains locked up. It’s important for survivors to remain involved and support each other, she said, noting her friendship with Paul Paulsen.

“It’d never be a good idea to have Mr. Allaway released,” said assistant Dist. Atty. Dan Wagner in remarks to the crowd. “Who wants to have a mass murderer living next door to them? It’s a very unwarranted risk.”

In 2001, Allaway put in a request for release, but it was denied when a Superior Court judge concluded that doctors had difficulty predicting whether Allaway might kill again, given his long history of schizophrenia. Allaway, 77, can petition for release once a year.

Cal State Fullerton President Mildred Garcia said there are always good people who stand against violence, and the master of ceremonies, Paul Miller, Cal State Fullerton’s police chaplain, said the campus stood in solidarity with the victims.

At the time of the shooting, Miller was director of handicapped student services and had arrived to work late on the morning of the shootings — in time to see the ambulances and other emergency personnel. Miller’s office was originally in the library, across from Allaway’s workspace, but he had moved before the shooting spree.

That Dallas was burying its five slain police officers this week following grim violence in Louisiana and Minnesota wasn’t lost on the crowd.

Orange County Supervisor Todd Spitzer implored those gathered to be vigilant to prevent similar bloodshed.

“Forty years ago, this was an outrageous aberration; today, it’s common,” he said. “It scares me. I’m worried about it. We should all worry about it.”

Just as a sunset began to darken the trees, Paulsen and Almazan lit candles before framed black-and-white portraits of the six slain men and one woman.

They gestured for others to flicker a light.

“Thank you, everyone,” Paulsen said, his voice shaking. “Thank you for being here.”

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Kathleen Luppi, kathleen.luppi@latimes.com

Twitter: @KathleenLuppi