As the deadly Eaton Fire roared toward the Altadena home that Ray and Mary Jo Spano had lovingly restored from near ruin, Ray grabbed their most precious possession: nearly 300 love letters from their courtship in the early 1960s.
Mary Jo carried photos of their nine children and 24 grandchildren. Before they left, she affixed the image of Divine Mercy to their front and back doors and the separate entrance to Ray’s architectural studio.
“Even though we lost the house and his office, you still feel that God was very present and there’s a reason,” said Mary Jo, 84. “I guess in time we’ll understand what that was.”
Raised in far distant parts of the country, they were introduced by Ray’s college roommate in architectural school at the University of Arizona. He happened to be Mary Jo’s cousin.
“For some reason, he thought Mary Jo and I would be a good match,” said Ray, now 87.
One reason was surely the deep, shared faith that is guiding them through this catastrophe.
Ray grew up in Cleveland, Ohio, attending the Cathedral Latin School before his family moved to California his senior year. He graduated from Chaminade High School (now Chaminade College Preparatory School) in West Hills.
Meanwhile, in Lafayette, Ind., Mary Jo studied at Saint Francis High School. It was about to close, and classes her final two years were in the chancery of the Diocese of Lafayette. There, she so impressed Bishop John Bennett that he hired her as his secretary. She continued with then-Bishop John Carberry, becoming close to him before his appointment as the cardinal archbishop of St. Louis.
After her cousin finagled a matchmaking visit to California, Ray and Mary Jo began a two-year courtship across 2,000 miles. “In those days, phone calls were expensive,” Ray said.
Thus, 300 love letters.
Also in those days, bishops rarely celebrated weddings. But Carberry, with whom they remained friends until his death, married them on Dec. 26, 1964.
His wedding gift was a porcelain image of the Blessed Mother, in a frame with a crimson velvet background. They attached her to the bedroom wall where they could see her when they awoke, and carefully transported her as Ray finished college, they relocated to Southern California and moved house several times. In 1978 they bought a fixer-upper in Altadena.
Built in 1909-1910 as the first house on Rubio Street, the 3,400 square-foot craftsman accommodated nine children — now ages 43-59 — but was in sad shape. Wisteria and ivy hid the exterior. Inside, wood paneling had been painted over and the original sconces ripped out for modern lighting. Decorative tiling was destroyed.
For 30 years, as Ray worked, their children attended Catholic school and they sang in the choir at St. Elizabeth of Hungary Church, Ray and Mary Jo stripped paint, restored wood, installed period fixtures, and landscaped the large yard. A statue of the Blessed Mother that had belonged to Mary Jo’s mother stood against a low brick garden wall.
Ray also remodeled the detached garage, enlarging it to create an architectural studio whose skillful design testified to his skills. After 20 years of working there, he was planning to retire as he finished one last project for an old client. He and Mary Jo wanted to travel and spend more time with their children.
Last May, Rubio Street was the site of an annual Altadena home tour that raised more than $100,000 for Huntington Hospital. A café was set up in their backyard and Ray’s studio was a tour site. Video taken that day of their yard and studio has survived. Virtually everything shown on those videos is ash and cinder.
On Jan. 7 they fled the flames. Their home probably burned the next morning.
They went first to their eldest child, Christina, in Pasadena. Her house was threatened and they evacuated again. Christina’s home survived, but they remain for now in Long Beach with their youngest, Julia.
Their son Tony, his wife, and three children had been living with Ray and Mary Jo in Altadena but visited his wife’s family in Korea over Christmas and New Year’s. Tony returned before them for work, landing at LAX the night of the fire. His family is still in Korea “because we don’t have a home for them to return to,” Ray said.
After the smoke died, Ray and Mary Jo donned hazmat suits to inspect what remained.
They found the chimney, the foundation, the low brick wall and the concrete garden statue of the Blessed Mother. Sitting upright amid rubble and twisted cables from the collapsed second floor were several cherubic angel figurines.
Their treasured porcelain Madonna from Cardinal Carberry is gone.
“I didn’t think we would lose our house. I thought we would take the most precious things and then come back. Had I thought for a minute that the house would be gone, that was one of the objects that I would have taken,” Ray said.
“Those are the things that nothing you can do can replace them. You just have to keep them in your heart.”
He is thankful that they are alive and “we have the faith to move forward, whichever direction that will be.”
Their intention is to rebuild, and to help their neighbors do likewise.
They began emailing their Rubio Street neighbors with practical information, and the list has grown to about 90 as others asked to join. Their son Nick, who runs a café, hosted a gathering for the Rubio Street neighbors to have lunch and consult with a law firm.
Ray’s faith tells him not to ask why God allowed the fire, which he attributes to forces of nature. Instead, he asks God how to respond.
He scrapped his retirement plans.
“I’d like to assist my neighbors in getting their homes redesigned,” he said, speculating about how to ease their way through a yearslong process.
He had always wanted to design a home for their own family but never had the opportunity. Amid the terrible circumstances, he sees a chance to fulfill a dream.
Their insurance includes transitional housing, but finding a place large enough for them and Tony’s family has been difficult. It is also difficult to live so far from St. Elizabeth of Hungary Church, where they long to gather with friends.
At St. Elizabeth of Hungary School, when fire inspectors asked principal Phyllis Cremer for blueprints of the gas lines, she was astonished to discover that they had been signed long ago by Spano. Friends for 27 years, she described the couple as quietly generous to the church, whether through financial giving or hosting the choir for Christmas caroling parties.
“If you ever have a bad day, you just need to be with the Spanos,” she said.
Now the entire parish is hurting, its buildings damaged and many families homeless. She believes they will draw inspiration from Ray and Mary Jo because their marriage shows what the sacrament is all about.
“Their faith is so strong. You get a sense of how Christ-centered their relationship is. We all have our challenges within our relationships, and we need to allow God to be a part of those challenges to be a witness to others. Ray and Mary Jo do that,” she said.
“When you’re with Ray and Mary Jo it doesn’t feel like they’ve been married for 60 years. They’re as fresh and loving and tender as people who have just fallen in love.”
Ray and Mary Jo are grateful when friends tell them they are praying for them or ask them how they can help. Their greater concern is for victims who feel alone.
“We’re blessed because of our family and the number of friends that we have. I can’t imagine somebody going through this without that,” Ray said.
“Everything can be taken from us, but we also need to be cognizant that this is only a speck of what we are going to experience in eternity. I tell people that our house went up to heaven before we did.”
A GoFundMe started by Ray and Mary Jo’s son Nick to help them can be found here.
