Lucy Maria Guss

Lucy M. Guss, the esteemed dance instructor, aunt, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, great-great-grandmother, and friend to all who knew her, passed away peacefully on the morning of May 20, 2010 in her home in San Bernardino in the 91st year of her age.

She began life in Mexico City, Distrito Federal, in 1918 on the 4th of December. Her parents, Ana and Guillermo, gave her the name Luz Maria Elorriaga. At only seven years of age, without any formal instruction, Lucy began dancing professionally with a group based in Mexico City. They performed in places all across the city. Yet young Lucy remained very close to her family, which included her sister, Emma, and her two brothers, Guillermo Jr., and Roberto.

The family, however, would soon face two catastrophic events. Lucy's father, a manager for a Mexican government train carrying mail, suffered a fatal accident on the job. And almost immediately after his passing, ten-year-old Lucy saw her country fall into the brutal turmoil of a revolutionary war. Under great duress, Lucy's mother wasted no time. Along with her sister Maria and Maria's children, Ana Elorriaga and her own children packed their belongings—what little they could bring—and took a train heading north. Lucy's father, and the home he had made for them, gradually faded to a distant memory hundreds of miles away.

Lucy's Uncle Pepe was already a citizen of the United States. Lucy's mother had wired him, telling him that they were on their way to the border. That is, if any stray bullets from the revolution didn't catch them first.

Fortunately, Uncle Pepe saw the train arriving undamaged, its passengers exhausted but unharmed.

Uncle Pepe drove a fancy old car, a Pierce-Arrow. It was huge, big enough to carry Lucy and all the bags and family she brought with her ... although the back seat was a bit cramped with her sister and two brothers elbowing each other, and with little Lucy sitting on a wooden hatbox the whole way to Uncle Pepe's house in Los Angeles.

It was in this way that Lucy started her new life. She spent the rest of her childhood in Los Angeles. A school teacher took a special interest in her, determined that she would help Lucy learn English. The teacher helped in other ways, too, knowing that Lucy had a single working mother and was not exactly the richest person on the block. So when Lucy's shoes from Mexico City started wearing down and falling apart, this kind teacher walked her to the nearest shoe store to buy a nice new pair—her first ever in the United States.

By ninth grade, Lucy made a significant sacrifice in support of her family. She dropped out of school and got a job in a textile factory. After a few years, she met a young hardworking man by the name of Manuel T. Martinez. Every night he walked her home from work. Love was inevitable.

Before long, Lucy found herself ready to start her own family. She and Manuel were married in Los Angeles, Lucy in her twenties and Manuel ten years older. Hearing of the job opportunities in San Bernardino, they moved to 267 East Baseline Street. Manuel found work as a machinist for the Western Stove Company. And for a time, the happy couple lived well together.

But history had a way of repeating itself ... a way of tearing families apart.

Lucy recognized the signs of war, all too real from her childhood. In January of 1944, the U.S. Army drafted Manuel away from home and onto the beaches of Normandy. He left behind his first son—newly born in 1943—Richard Elorriaga Valentino Martinez.

On the week after the D-Day invasion, when killed-in-action telegrams from the army were delivered like leaves from the sky, an army vehicle pulled up to Lucy's home. An officer handed her one of those telegrams and thanked her for her husband's service to the country. Manuel Martinez would not be coming home alive.

Lucy fainted with the baby in her arms. As the officer intervened, Lucy's mother snatched the telegram and read with widening eyes. In her broken English, she explained to the officer that there must be some sort of mistake: The telegram had been addressed to the family of Manuel A. Martinez at 267 WEST Baseline. Lucy's husband is Manuel T. Martinez. And this house is 267 EAST Baseline.

For the time being, Lucy's husband was safe.

But Lucy was still alone. She did what any other dedicated mother living alone with a child would do. She worked … even if that meant risking her life. She found a job in an ammunitions factory at the north end of San Bernardino, manufacturing bombs for the military. It was dangerous work. On one occasion she nearly did lose her life. A loaded shell ignited accidentally on a factory line behind her, a deafening explosion. Molten shrapnel shot past her head. The windows shattered. Lucy staggered outside. She could barely hear anything, her ears ringing.

For about five hours, she had completely forgotten the English language, speaking only in Spanish. Luckily she made a full and quick recovery. She went back to work only hours later, after the debris was cleaned up. To her it was worth it. By supporting the war effort, she in turn supported her husband and child.

Her efforts paid off. After the war, the Martinez family reunited. And two new members were added: Carl William Martinez in 1947 and Robert Elorriaga Antonio Martinez in 1950. For all three sons, she was a Cub Scout den mother, and against great odds she lead the way for one son to achieve the rank of Eagle Scout—one of the first Mexican-American Eagle Scouts in San Bernardino County.

Lucy continued working. This time she opted for something a little safer; instead of packing bombs she was stuffing tacos at the local Taco Tia. On her free time, she returned to her first love—dancing. And now, with Manuel, she had a dance partner.

They studied ballroom dancing at Vivian's Dance Studio in San Bernardino. Together they won many trophies. Three of these trophies were won from dancing on a black-and-white Al Jarvis television show. Both mom and dad under the membership of B.D.A.A. (Better Dancers Association of America) earned the prestigious Bronze, Silver and Gold awards. In time she opened up and operated her own dance studios, the first two in downtown San Bernardino and the last one on Highland Avenue. Without realizing it, she had given many pleasant memories to hundreds of people.

Eventually, in her new home on Valencia Avenue, Lucy started a new life with husband David Guss, with whom she won trophies for polkas, foxtrots, and waltzes.

Religion became an important part of her life. She attended Bible classes on Wednesdays, vigils on Fridays, and Sunday services where she would be at the door greeting everyone before mass with a big smile and a warm welcome.

She loved traveling. With David Guss, she toured throughout Europe and even trekked up the slopes of the Swiss Alps. She visited her Air Force son Richard and his family when they were stationed in Spain and Panama. With her son Robert, she attended many of his concerts over the years. With her son Carl, she was always available for any of his family get-togethers. In her travels with her son Robert, she saw the sights of Ireland, Germany and Mexico. She even went back to Mexico many times to visit her sister's families still living there to this day. Earlier in her life, she played the part of a daredevil, riding her Brother Bob's motorcycles, speedboats, and flying loop-the-loops and upside-down, screaming her head off from the open cockpit of his acrobatic plane, dangerously soaring over her mother's house. Into her eighties she retained a daredevil streak, risking life and limb flying over Temecula in a hot air balloon, calmly eating sandwiches and sipping wine.

Back home, she never gave up teaching the cha-cha, waltz, rumba, and her favorite, the tango. She also taught at the San Bernardino Valley College and senior citizen centers. She was in a Hawaiian dance team that visited, performed, and left smiles on countless faces of residents in the local convalescent homes. In one of these homes, The Villas, she stayed toward the end of her life as a resident. Yet, even in the waning of her health, she kept her dancing spirit. One time during The Villa's happy hour, she eagerly kicked up her heals to a live rendition of the song New York, New York.

Her remaining days she spent in her Valencia home, still very active, visiting her backyard flowers and cacti, doing the cha-cha, and simply enjoying her friends and family. And on her very last night on Earth, she made her way to the shrine at the center of her backyard … whereupon she asked her eldest son to toll the bell. As the bell rang, she paid respects to her statue of the Virgin Mary. Not long after, she wished her sons a goodnight and headed to bed, lying down for one last time.

She is survived by her three sons—Richard, Carl, and Robert—her grandchildren, great-grandchildren, great¬-great grandchildren, and her nieces and nephews. May God bless and keep you, Lucy. You will be missed.

Arrangements under the direction of Mountain View Mortuary, San Bernardino, CA.