HOLIDAYS : Charity Knows No Season : Volunteers derive gratification by helping other people all year round.
It’s easy to gush with magnanimous gestures during the holidays, but what about the rest of the year? Cheer and goodwill are no stranger to three volunteers who, like many San Fernando Valley residents, make a career out of playing Santa year-round.
When Rich Vonn entered a Detroit St. Vincent de Paul orphanage in 1934, his year-old life took an unexpected turn. Fifty-eight years later, Vonn has returned full circle to volunteer for the organization that sheltered him during the early years of his life.
After Vonn and his twin brother were born, their mother gave birth to another set of twins within a year--in addition to the four girls previously born to the family. Vonn’s mother died shortly after the births, leaving her husband, a police officer, to rear the brood. But within weeks, he was shot and killed on the job. An uncle gave the orphanage director the two sets of twins and $7, saying he would return in a week. He never came back.
Four years later, Vonn was adopted by a Luddington, Mich., couple without his twin, Ronald. (Vonn’s original first name was Donald.) Another Luddington couple adopted twins Pete and Pat (a girl), but grew dissatisfied with Pete’s behavior. Vonn’s new parents, recognizing restlessness in their own son, then adopted Pete. In the 1950s, Vonn found Ronald and Pat through a newspaper article, as well as the four sisters he didn’t know existed.
As an adult, Vonn spent 24 years playing piano in nightclubs and went on to become a sports editor at a Burbank newspaper, which folded in 1979, leaving him destitute, he says. Unable to find work, Vonn drifted in and out of welfare hotels and halfway houses for the next six years until a priest suggested that he ease elderly people’s loneliness by playing the piano in convalescent homes. He did just that, and his luck soon changed with a job offer as a newspaper customer service representative.
“I think the good Lord purposefully did a number on me,” says Vonn, laughing at the misfortune that humbled and transformed him from a self-described “big shot” into a 20-hour-a-week volunteer. Vonn soon joined the St. Vincent de Paul Society, an international Catholic charity, at his newfound Catholic church, St. Joseph the Worker in Canoga Park.
“When I heard the society needed help, I just thought, ‘Yup, that’s exactly what I’m supposed to do,’ ” says Vonn, who now works as a Metrolink crossing monitor in San Fernando. “It felt like divine inspiration for me to step in.”
As director of the Canoga Park society for the last two years, Vonn has shouldered scores of activities--a career in itself for the stocky Burl Ives look-alike.
He runs the church’s food pantry, which collects donated items from shoppers who frequent a Canoga Park Vons grocery store. Besides delivering food to the needy who call the church, Vonn often pays their bills and shuttles them to appointments.
“We don’t just drop off a couple bags of groceries,” says Vonn, who continues to play the piano each Saturday at area convalescent homes. “We really look after people.”
Recognizing the need of Vietnamese immigrant families, who make up about 15% of St. Joseph’s 2,300 parishioners, Vonn began a relocation program two years ago that helps settle newly arrived families. Hauling sofas on his 1987 Dodge or scrambling to find extra mattresses, Vonn has provided 16 families with furniture, clothing and other necessities through his one-man effort. Parishioners and local businesses provide funding for St. Joseph’s programs.
In his spare time, Vonn takes Vietnamese teen-agers and their fathers--17 to date--up Mulholland Drive for driving lessons.
“When I called the church for help, Rich called me 20 minutes later. One hour after that, he was here with bags of groceries,” says Canoga Park resident Martha Mercado, whose husband Bernardo lost his job as a security guard six months ago. “I’ve got five children, and it’s hard for me. Rich took us to the Salvation Army, bought clothes and toys for the kids, and even tried to get a job for my husband. He’s a real gentleman.”
As new district council president of the St. Vincent de Paul Society, Vonn says his new goal is to encourage more Valley churches to form their own society outposts. “Helping others can really turn your life around,” says Vonn.
The Rev. Anne Rosebrock knew nothing about building houses when she examined blueprints for eight Pacoima townhouses two years ago. But the Habitat for Humanity project, which recently began construction, seemed the perfect project for her Knollwood United Methodist congregation in Granada Hills.
As speaker’s bureau organizer of Habitat’s San Fernando-Santa Clarita Valley chapter, Rosebrock knew her pleas for assistance would hold more weight if she did some hammering of her own.
So in 1990, she headed to the border along with former President Jimmy Carter, the group’s most recognized volunteer, to participate in “Miracle on the Border,” a week of blitzkrieg building resulting in 100 new homes near Tijuana. Rosebrock learned how to raise a roof (“We did it twice because it wasn’t right the first time”), paint, plaster and lay electrical wire--skills that will give her a head start constructing the first Habitat homes in the Valley.
Since her trip, Rosebrock has spent weekends on Habitat fix-up projects, such as painting and repairing North Hollywood’s Valley Shelter, the Women’s Care Cottage in Van Nuys, and senior citizen centers in Van Nuys and North Hollywood.
“Working on these projects has been a powerful experience for me--just about the most important thing I’ve done in my life,” says Rosebrock, who lives in Granada Hills with her husband, Randy, and 8-year-old daughter, Kristen.
Habitat for Humanity, founded in 1976, is a nonprofit ecumenical organization that uses volunteers to build low-cost housing based on a joint venture model. Habitat is first owner of the houses, which are sold at no profit to selected families who perform 500 hours of “sweat equity” in building their future homes. (Four of the eight Pacoima units, which will sell for $50,000 each with monthly mortgage payments of about $250, are scheduled to be completed in July, 1993.)
“Anne is a very hard worker and she’s built a strong Habitat following among her congregation,” says Pete Boran, president of Habitat’s local chapter, run out of donated office space in North Hollywood’s First Assembly of God church. “She trains other speakers, coordinates speaking dates around the Valley and is a strong advocate for our work.”
“We’re looking forward to bringing Habitat’s success to the Valley, to our own community. People need to see and be involved in change in their own back yard. That’s where it counts the most.”
The last seven years of Henry Ravow’s 68-year marriage were not the best. His wife, Dolly, battled Alzheimer’s disease during that period and died about five years ago. A few months later, Ravow began volunteering at the Organization for the Needs of the Elderly’s resource center in Reseda.
“I wanted to quit my first week there,” says 93-year-old Ravow, who lives in Sherman Oaks. “I’ve been healthy all my life. Taking care of people who weren’t well just didn’t seem right for me.”
But Ravow says he learned to respect participants of the adult day-care program he works with, many of whom have had strokes and grapple with Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s diseases. His one-day-a-week effort soon stretched to three, making him the center’s staunchest volunteer.
“I just can’t keep up with the man; he runs me ragged,” says Kathleen Sorem, 42, the program’s assistant director. “He gives these people their life back--by talking to them, playing shuffleboard, working on crafts and helping with their hygiene. He’s extremely patient and allows them the dignity to take all the time they need when they’re telling their stories. He listens.
“He talks to the guys man to man and thrills the ladies by asking them to dance. And he tells great jokes.”
Many people might picture a 93-year-old as quaint--a stooped, craggy-voiced fellow who tentatively offers a liver-spotted hand. Not so with Ravow. His handshake is firm if not downright painful. His voice is deep and resonant. His gait and demeanor equal that of a 50-year-old, and his white mustache makes him look dashing.
“The people here have made me aware of my own life--of my fortunate health,” says Ravow, a retired salesman. “Otherwise, I would have stayed home and sat around watching TV. I think the center just about saved my life.”
