The Ring Master : Mission San Juan Patriarch and Swallows Day Veteran Is Honored With Mural

His nickname is “Mocho,” which friends say means “something missing” in a local Indian dialect--a reference to the three fingers he lost in World War I.

But few lives have been as full and complete as that of 96-year-old Paul Arbiso, known across the country as the man who rings the bells of Mission San Juan Capistrano on Swallows Day.

On Tuesday, the patriarch of this old mission city was honored during ceremonies marking the unveiling of a mural portraying Arbiso in the historic train depot.

Dozens of friends and city dignitaries attended to show respect and love to the Juaneno Indian who saw the first automobiles pass through San Juan Capistrano, who tended the mission’s famous gardens for decades and rang the mission bells to mark the passing of the dead and celebrations of life.

In a city that contains some of the oldest remnants of Spanish mission life in California, “Paul represents the best of our city’s traditions,” said Msgr. Paul Martin. “He is a living embodiment of the charm and romance of San Juan Capistrano.”

A blurred kaleidoscope of faces and famous events have passed since Arbiso picked up his first odd job at the mission about 1908 at age 12, as he remembers it. Still, his memories of turn-of-the-century San Juan Capistrano are as fresh as the pungent smell of hay in the mission’s stables where Arbiso played hide-and-seek as a child.

Standing under the mural, his back only slightly bent by time, Arbiso’s weathered bronze face cracked slightly, allowing a small grin to bend one corner of his face as the memories returned.

“I started working at the mission as a boy,” he said. “I just cleaned up and did little things. It wasn’t much. Sometimes (mission officials) didn’t pay because they didn’t have much money. But whatever they gave was all right because nobody had much money then.”

He shakes his head at the profound changes in Orange County during the 20th Century, half-closing the eyes that watched the county change from countryside to condominiums.

“I remember the first automobile ever seen in San Juan Capistrano,” Arbiso said. “We kids saw it coming down the road and we started screaming about the horseless buggy. I saw the first airplanes going from Los Angeles to San Diego. We called them ‘airships.’ They flew so low and made such a loud sound that we couldn’t hear.”

But among more than eight decades of memories, the most vivid is Arbiso’s face-to-faceless encounter with one of the mission’s legendary ghosts.

A teen-ager at the time, Arbiso said he was leaving the mission when he saw a specter standing near a mission wall--a headless soldier wearing a Spanish uniform.

“I turned around and ran,” he said. “I ran to my aunt and told her about the ghost, but she didn’t believe me.”

The headless Spanish soldier is one of several ghosts seen near the mission, the most famous of which is a faceless Franciscan monk that is reputed to roam outside mission walls at night.

“I didn’t know who it was,” Arbiso said of his brush with the supernatural. “But I know what I saw.”

Arbiso’s lifework has been inside the mission, where for decades he lovingly tended the intricate array of flowers and trees that are the mission’s crown jewel. His heart belongs to the mission roses, which Martin says Arbiso treated with special care.

“They’re almost like family to him,” Martin said. Although Arbiso finally retired from full-time gardening last year, he still returns to the rose gardens. The community patriarch often clips roses and genteelly offers them as gifts to women around town.

In his semi-retirement, Arbiso stays active doing small repair jobs for neighbors, consuming an occasional nip of his one vice--red wine--and passing out advice in his subdued way.

“He doesn’t tell you what to do,” said Charley Gastelin, Arbiso’s grandson. “He isn’t obnoxious about it at all. He’ll listen to you and tell you things about his life that apply. He has helped me with my troubles at different times. He’s a very wise man.”

As he approaches 100, Arbiso is commonly asked the secret to his longevity. His stock answer: “I made good clay.”

“What that means is that he is proud that he has lived a good life; he’s the salt of the earth,” said Jack Rotar, a longtime friend and neighbor. “He doesn’t smoke and he’s very proud of never being put in jail in his life.”

Rotar manages the train depot’s Rio Grande salon, where the mural of Arbiso stands. The work was done by Vincent Hovely, a muralist who specializes in Western art.

Arbiso’s other lifework has made him a well-known face across the country. The church still assigns him the task of sounding the mission bells during Swallows Day and special holidays.

Year after year on March 19, Arbiso approaches the centuries-old mission bells and firmly grips the ropes as the usual horde of television and newspaper cameras record the moment. Then, with expertise honed by decades of experience, he leans into the rough-hewn ropes and loudly rings the bells in order to welcome home the swallows.

“Who else can you imagine doing this?” Martin asked. “It’s more than tradition. Paul is tradition.”