Paul Arbiso

The mission bells rang Saturday for the man who sounded them for more than 60 years. Hundreds of people gathered at the Mission San Juan to say goodby to Paul Arbiso, the city's beloved patriarch and the bell ringer who welcomed home the swallows each spring. Arbiso died last week at age 99. Mourners overflowed the mission's tiny Serra Chapel, pausing after the service to listen as the huge iron bells were sounded by Arbiso's grandson, Michael Gastelum, the new bell ringer.

The mission bells rang Saturday for the man who sounded them for more than 60 years. Hundreds of people gathered at the Mission San Juan to say goodby to Paul Arbiso, the city's beloved patriarch and the bell ringer who welcomed home the swallows each spring. Arbiso died last week at age 99. Mourners overflowed the mission's tiny Serra Chapel, pausing after the service to listen as the huge iron bells were sounded by Arbiso's grandson, Michael Gastelum, the new bell ringer.

Paul Arbiso, who was known as the living embodiment of historic San Juan Capistrano, died in his sleep Monday at the age of 99. Arbiso was internationally known as the bell ringer who welcomed the swallows home every year on Swallows Day--a job he performed for more than 60 years. As the city's patriarch since 1952, he was a connection with San Juan Capistrano's rich frontier history, someone who could remember life before automobiles, freeways and condominiums.

Paul Arbiso, who was known as the living embodiment of historic San Juan Capistrano, died in his sleep Monday at the age of 99. Arbiso was internationally known as the bell ringer who welcomed the swallows home every year on Swallows Day--a job he performed for more than 60 years. As the city's patriarch since 1952, he was a connection with San Juan Capistrano's rich frontier history, someone who could remember life before automobiles, freeways and condominiums.

Oblivious to the clanging bells of Mission San Juan Capistrano, men who looked as if they had stepped straight out of a Clint Eastwood Western began filling the ever-rowdy Swallows Inn bar as early as 6 a.m. Thursday. They were the locals. And, well, quite truthfully, they didn't much care to partake of the celebration announcing the return of the bar's namesake: those tiny birds that each year migrate from Goya, Argentina.

His nickname is "Mocho," which friends say means "something missing" in a local Indian dialect--a reference to the three fingers he lost in World War I. But few lives have been as full and complete as that of 96-year-old Paul Arbiso, known across the country as the man who rings the bells of Mission San Juan Capistrano on Swallows Day. On Tuesday, the patriarch of this old mission city was honored during ceremonies marking the unveiling of a mural portraying Arbiso in the historic train depot.

If there is a survival instinct stronger than any ecosystem it is the determination of tourist boards to sustain a myth. Punxsutawney Phil (not to be confused with New Jersey pretender Woodrow K. Chuck) has hogged Groundhog Day as our undomesticated ambassador of spring since 1887. In reality, admits Bill Null, a spokesman for the Punxsutawney (Pa.) Chamber of Commerce, Phil spends his year in a cozy enclosure near the children's library. With Barney, his backup and heir apparent. Each Feb.

In its Spanish days, Mission San Juan Capistrano grew only the necessities. There were large plantings of wheat, corn and beans. Tomatoes and other vegetables were raised in a garden bordering what is now Ortega Highway, and an orchard southeast of the mission harbored trees bearing pomegranates, peaches, apricots and olives. A nearby vineyard grew grapes for the sacramental wines. Historians believe a few flowers may have brightened the mission in the years after its founding in 1776, but the missionaries and their Indian charges put most of their energies into producing essentials for the isolated outpost.

Before his death four years ago at the age of 99, Paul Arbiso had signaled the return of the swallows to the historic Mission San Juan Capistrano for 42 years, clanging the church bells when he sighted the tiny songbirds each March 19. Now members of the San Juan Capistrano Historical Society want to raise money to honor Arbiso with a bronze plaque at the mission. "We are planning to have the dedication on Swallows Day," said historical society member Rita Nieblas.

Swallows made their traditional St. Joseph's Day appearance in this old mission town today as hundreds of residents and visitors cheered the fork-tailed birds' return. From the mission church courtyard, residents Paul Arbiso, 96, and Frank Velasquez, 68, spotted a small group of swallows flying above the 214-year-old mission. They pulled ropes to ring the four church bells to formally celebrate the birds' migratory return from Argentina.

His nickname is "Mocho," which friends say means "something missing" in a local Indian dialect--a reference to the three fingers he lost in World War I. But few lives have been as full and complete as that of 96-year-old Paul Arbiso, known across the country as the man who rings the bells of Mission San Juan Capistrano on Swallows Day. On Tuesday, the patriarch of this old mission city was honored during ceremonies marking the unveiling of a mural portraying Arbiso in the historic train depot.

In its Spanish days, Mission San Juan Capistrano grew only the necessities. There were large plantings of wheat, corn and beans. Tomatoes and other vegetables were raised in a garden bordering what is now Ortega Highway, and an orchard southeast of the mission harbored trees bearing pomegranates, peaches, apricots and olives. A nearby vineyard grew grapes for the sacramental wines. Historians believe a few flowers may have brightened the mission in the years after its founding in 1776, but the missionaries and their Indian charges put most of their energies into producing essentials for the isolated outpost.

Oblivious to the clanging bells of Mission San Juan Capistrano, men who looked as if they had stepped straight out of a Clint Eastwood Western began filling the ever-rowdy Swallows Inn bar as early as 6 a.m. Thursday. They were the locals. And, well, quite truthfully, they didn't much care to partake of the celebration announcing the return of the bar's namesake: those tiny birds that each year migrate from Goya, Argentina.

If there is a survival instinct stronger than any ecosystem it is the determination of tourist boards to sustain a myth. Punxsutawney Phil (not to be confused with New Jersey pretender Woodrow K. Chuck) has hogged Groundhog Day as our undomesticated ambassador of spring since 1887. In reality, admits Bill Null, a spokesman for the Punxsutawney (Pa.) Chamber of Commerce, Phil spends his year in a cozy enclosure near the children's library. With Barney, his backup and heir apparent. Each Feb.

The swallows--and tourists--returned to Mission San Juan Capistrano today, the birds for their 211th year. The tiny birds were outnumbered more than 20 to 1 by tourists, pigeons and sea gulls. One hundred fork-tailed cliff swallows returned here at 8:26 a.m. on the Feast of St. Joseph and the last day of winter, prompting 91-year-old bell-ringer Paul Arbiso to set his mission carillon thudding.

Thousands of tourists will converge on San Juan Capistrano today for the annual return of the swallows. Today's activities are part of a weeklong celebration in the city's 30th annual Fiesta de las Golondrinas or Festival of the Swallows. Swallow-watchers will gather around Mission San Juan Capistrano at Ortega Highway and Camino Capistrano as early as 6 a.m., waiting for the swallows' return from Goya, Argentina, traditionally marked when 92-year-old Paul Arbiso rings the mission bells.