Street-Corner Greeter Chris Sepulveda Dies

Friends and relatives will be saying goodbye this weekend to the local man known for saying hello.

Chris Sepulveda, 70, who had lived in the city since 1935 and made a name for himself by standing on a downtown corner and waving at passing cars for more than a decade, died Thursday, said his daughter, Alice Hernandez.

“It’s very hard,” Hernandez said. “Everybody is going to miss him.”

Sepulveda had been hospitalized in serious condition since Christmas Eve, when he had a heart attack at the home he and Hernandez shared.

During his hospital stay, friends and relatives streamed into his room to visit but he was unable to speak, only occasionally opening his eyes to acknowledge a greeting or smile at his well-wishers, Hernandez said.

“He would look at you and raise an eyebrow and smile and then go back to sleep,” she said.

Sepulveda also received more than 50 cards and letters from people he didn’t even know, Hernandez said. Many of them had read stories of how her father had, for more than a decade, stood--and as his health declined, sat--on a downtown corner to greet passing cars.

“They just said how much they appreciated what he did and said they wished more people were like him,” she said.

In a 1994 interview, Sepulveda said he started the routine after his wife died and he got bored and fed up with sitting at home and watching TV.

When he started, Sepulveda stood on the corner of Spring Road and 2nd Street during the morning and afternoon rush hours. That was before the new Simi Valley Freeway connector was built, when as many as 500 cars would rush by in an hour.

When diabetes claimed the leg that he had almost lost to frostbite in World War II, Sepulveda moved to Roberts Avenue and Spring Road, a corner closer to his home. He carried a folding chair to the spot until two friends locked a padded chair to a fence post for him.

One of them, Tito Romo, 71, said he will miss Sepulveda, whom he had known since 1947.

“He was a really nice man, and one of my best friends,” Romo said. “I think he knew just about everybody in Moorpark, or at least waved at them.”

Some people wondered about Sepulveda’s sanity, Romo said, but his friend didn’t care about that.

“I think it was the other way around,” Romo said. “They’re the ones that’s crazy. He just liked to say hi to people. What could be wrong with that?”

Sepulveda used to say: “People tell me that I make their day, and I tell them that when they wave back, they make my day.”

Romo worked with Sepulveda at the Port Hueneme naval base, unloading ships for several years before moving on to other jobs at the base.

When doctors removed his right leg two years ago because of diabetes, Sepulveda’s biggest concern was whether he could continue to dance with his artificial leg, Romo said.

“Chris was a good dancer and a lady’s man,” he said. “He liked the jitterbug, and I think jazz music.”

Sepulveda is survived by daughters Alice Hernandez and Maria Kinkead, both of Moorpark; three grandchildren and a great-grandchild who will soon be born, Hernandez said.

A rosary is planned for 6 p.m. Monday at the Reardon Funeral Home in Simi Valley and a Mass is planned Tuesday at Holy Cross Church in Moorpark.