Emiliano married a beautiful lady in mind and spirit, Dolores Guerrero, from Oaxaca and related to Vicente Guerrero (1783 - 1831). They had eight children: Maria de la Encarnaci�n Dolores (b. 1885, probably died the same year), my grandmother Ana Maria (b. 3 Aug 1886), Luisa (b. 21 June 1888, probably died the same year), Guillermo (b. 19 Jan 1893), Alberto (b. 30 Aug 1897), Magdalena Luisa Sahara, better known as Duba (b. 29 May 1901), Carmen Poucel (b. 1904), and Isabel Poucel (b. 1906), known as Chabela.
We don't really know what my grandfather Juan Manuel did. I remember my uncle Alberto referring to him as a gambler. Well, whatever he was, he was certainly a handsome devil!
Grand uncle Guillermo was sent to the USA to study engineering to the University of Ohio, however, that was not meant to be. The Revolution broke out in Mexico and his family was not able to support him. Guillermo was thus forced to interrupt his studies and work as a maintenance man in charge of housing buildings. It was not his career of choice, but it was close enough. Guillermo married Caroline Robb (Carrie) in 1915, and started the American branch of the Poucel family. Carrie, his dear and tolerant wife, was Pennsylvania Dutch. Her mother was from Holland and her father from Germany, near the black forest. Guillermo's father was a tough man, and very demanding of Guillermo, being the elder son. Guillermo was a little afraid of him, and given the family background of battling the Americans during the Mexican-American War(1846-1848), he thought it prudent to test the waters before confessing to his father that he had married an American. He asked his brother Alberto to introduce Carrie as his girlfriend and check his father's reaction. Fortunately for everybody, it was love at first sight. So in a proud manner, Guillermo confessed to his father that they were married. (look at Alberto and Guillermo at the ages of 18 and 25 when they were in Philadelphia).
Back in Mexico things were going from bad to worse for the family. Guillermo�s father, General Emiliano Poucel, was thrown in jail (Chapultepec dungeons) by Huerta on trumped up charges for being a Madero supporter. The family, no longer with an income, had to sell their assets to survive. General Emiliano Poucel contracted pneumonia in the dark, damp, cold dungeons of Chapultepec, and his health was never the same. While in the states, Guillermo and Carrie were going through very difficult times. They were living near the poverty line. Mexicans were being discriminated against because of the revolution. The Americans had taken the port of Veracruz (1914). He couldn�t hold a job. His father died on January 1916, which was devastating for Guillermo. Carrie gives birth to a girl on February 1916, baptized Dolores after his mother. The baby was delivered at home by Carrie's mother, a midwife. Then on 25 March 1916, two months after his father's death, one month after the birth of his firstborn, his loving mother dies. The stress was unbearable. They didn't have enough money for milk and the baby was crying constantly. Guillermo thought she would starve. One day, Carrie went out and when she returned the baby was gone!
There is an enigma where baby Dolores ended up. There are two versions. The first one is that she was given to a Convent because she was born with a veil over her face (i.e., the placenta covering the baby's face), which meant bad luck to the child's family. The other version is that she was given to their neighbors, the Fergusen, in the apartment building where they were living. The couple wanted the baby and moved to California. Aunt Bertha tried to find the birth certificate and adoption records, but without success.
After the revolution, in the twenties, Guillermo came back to Mexico with Carrie. He started working as a foreman in Pemex, Petroleos Mexicanos (the Mexican oil company) in Tampico. However, he identified a bit too much with the Mexican machismo culture for Carrie's taste, so she grabbed their children and returned to the States. Guillermo didn't want to lose his family so he reconciled with her and returned to the States as well. However, he remained frustrated professionally.
As with the Poucel of those generations, he had quite a temper (a family trait) and a strange sense of humor, which expressed itself in the constant teasing of his wife (just like his brother Alberto) �look at the photo putting horns on Carrie!. His daughter, My Aunt Betty, never quite forgave him for his kidding and making ridicule of his mother. Rebecca, Bill, Popi (my brother) and I remember him as a loving person, that could do magic with a quarter, give us peppermint Chiclets, and bringing us American toys for Christmas. When we were all young, we would watch mesmerized as he pushed his false teeth in and out of his mouth. We didn't know they were false and wondered how he could do it. Yes...he was very fun loving and warm to his grandchildren and grandnephews. But, not only to them.
I spent the whole of 1959 with Aunt Betty and Uncle Alfred in Middletown, Delaware (the first state of the Union!). My Uncle Alfred had Freddie, a son from a previous marriage. Freddie was (and is) great, and was a sweet son. But, being the elder, or for whatever reason, Aunt Betty and uncle Alfred were tough on him. My uncle William always stood up for him. Once, while having Sunday dinner, Uncle Alfred reprimanded Freddie for something. Uncle William thought that was excessive and uncalled for. He stopped eating, stood up and stormed out of the room. I have always thought of Freddie as a relative and a Poucel.
After his wife Carrie died in 1966, William's siblings asked him to return to Mexico, but he wanted to stay near his children. He stayed in Wilmington living alone in his apartment. On November 1968, his son Bill and his family were expecting him for thanksgiving dinner, but he never showed up. He was found a couple of days later dead on the roof of his building. He had gone up to adjust his TV antenna in his shirt, it was cold, the door to the roof closed and locked, he suffered a stroke, and was unable to call for help.
Grand uncle Alberto studied civil engineering. He was one of the pioneers who opened up the country, building up the transportation infrastructure after the end of the Mexican revolution. He was always traveling from one road project to another. He married Angela Bermudez and had four children: Yolanda (La Chata), H�ctor, Federico (Caco), and Ana Poucel. They lived in Guadalajara and Tampico, and perhaps some other places, depending where his work would take him. When surveying the area of one of his projects, a tire of his van was punctured. While he was changing it, given the roughness of the surface, the van fell on his hand, severing three fingers from his left hand (middle, ring and pinkie). However, that didn't slow him one bit!
When Alberto was�about 50 plus years old, he settled down in Mexico City, buying a house in Calle Toluca, about half a block away from where her sister Duba lived. They were close. Once, a very stupid man insulted my Aunt Duba. I thus thought prudent to run and tell my Uncle Alberto. (Yes, I was the informer!) Uncle Alberto came running to the building and asked the man to apologize to his sister. The man thinking that he could take my uncle because he was younger, refused in a derisive manner. Uncle Alberto just punched him once, only once. That man flew backwards into the air, and lay down quietly for a very, very long time. That man was always so polite to my Aunt Duba after that. I wonder why?
Around 1960, Alberto Uncle suffered a stroke, which left half of his body paralyzed and affected his speech. Given his positive attitude and resilient character, he recovered rapidly, although never completely. My Uncle Guillermo use to kid him when we went out. Once in a restaurant in Acapulco, Guillermo ordered his food, and said to the waiter "and for my father give him..." Alberto and my Aunt Duba just laughed hilariously. There you have them in Acapulco in 1962 (11th photo,... "Los hermanitos Curros", says the dedicatory in the back).
Aunt Duba had to take care of Martha, Emiliano and Pancho on her own. There was little left from her parents. The large house in San Rafael where they were raised was sold. The sisters (Ana, Duba, Carmen and Chabela) inherited a housing building for low income people. Rents were frozen and with inflation, the rent proceeds dropped next to nothing. She moved out with Ana's three children to an apartment in the Col. Roma Sur, where my brother Popi still lives! She worked as a sales person in a large department store: "El Palacio de Hierro", until her retirement in 1962. She was quite a character. She could play "balero" better than most. She was also quite the handyman, could do electric work, carpentry and most home repairs. I should know, she taught me how to play balero and use tools. Her nickname "Duba" comes from Madame Duvalier. Somebody started calling her that because she was so French-like, so the nickname Duba stock, spelled with a b. Why? Nobody knows!
She would be up by crack of dawn, and prepare our breakfast before we departed for school. She was a disciplinarian, but fair. Since I was a little (just a little) troublesome when I was growing up, I got to know that hand in my but quite well! Her sight was poor, but her energy was not. I was 14 or 15 years old. (There you see me in the photo next to Aunt Duba, Guillermo, Emiliano, Popi and Pancho.) I was walking down the street of Tonala with my guitar and feeling pretty cool, when a group of bullies called me names. It was not the first time. I guess that day, the Poucel took over me. I thus dropped my guitar and went at them with everything I had. As we were tangling, people starting watching and forming a circle around us. Now, before you start judging me, please remember they were 3 guys going at me. They were one to two years older than me. And, they had started the fight. Hey, as soon as I dropped one guy to the floor, I followed with a kick. When they tried to hold me, I used my head. So, while I was otherwise occupied with the business at hand, I hear a familiar voice shouting at me: "Fight clean, don't kick him, and so on! Suddenly, that frightful voice says very close to me: "Ay si eres tu desgraciado" (Oh, if it is you, you scoundrel!) So she grabs me by my ear and walks me in utter disgrace to our house! Can you believe that! I am still the laughing stock of the family!
