Their Fathers’ Game : Elders Say Lingering Goodby to Families’ Boccie Court

Three decades ago, a tiny community of Italian-Americans moved to Oxnard Shores. The 12 families built an apartment complex to live in and, next door, a boccie ball court to celebrate their heritage.

The long gravel pit on a vacant lot was more than a luxury for the occupants of Villa Anacapa--it was their social center.

For hours at a time, the husbands would play the game, which resembles lawn bowling. They would joke about each others’ abilities, argue over points and sip wine. The wives made picnic lunches and kept an eye on the children.

A photograph from 1964, the year the 12-unit complex was completed, shows 22 spouses crammed onto a stairway, happily hoisting wineglasses and bottles.

But the court isn’t used much these days. The husbands and wives have aged. Some became ill, and several have died in recent years.

Some of the children--perhaps eyeing the million-dollar beachfront homes springing up around the Driftwood Street apartments--began pressuring the old-timers to sell the lot, said Nick Bucci, 87.

It came down to a vote, and the older generation lost, Bucci said.

“The kids don’t have the sentimental attachment (to the court) that we have,” he said. “It’s kept us going all these years. The game is nothing but drinking wine and having fun. Not getting drunk, mind you, just having fun.”

Although the old-timers reluctantly stuck a For Sale sign on the parcel five months ago, they have not received any offers, said James Emanuel. That suits them just fine, he said.

“If we sell it, we sell it,” said Emanuel, at 70 the youngest of the original group. “If we don’t, we don’t. We’re not in a hurry.”

When they built Villa Anacapa on two lots 30 years ago, the group decided to ante up an extra $12,500 for a third lot to build the boccie ball court, Bucci said. Many of them were second-generation Italian Americans who learned the ancient Roman sport from their parents, he said.

They would roll colored wooden balls on the long, gravel court, scoring points for their skill at knocking opponents’ balls away from a small, white ball while staying close to it themselves.

For many years, weekends were centered on boccie ball tournaments, with friends invited up from Los Angeles, Bucci said. One summer, the group roasted a 250-pound pig in an underground pit on the vacant lot, he said.

“It took seven hours,” he said. “We got in a lot of games.”

Hilda Bortolott remembers the many parties on the lot. And she recalls acquaintances questioning how long the real estate alliance would last.

“They always said we’d never get along,” said Bortolott, 82, one of the original residents. “But we’ve never had an argument.”

The group was never tempted to sell the lot, even as land values began skyrocketing in the 1980s, Bucci said. The boccie court gave them something to do.

“It was part of our lives,” he said. “If we cashed it in, we would all be upstairs twiddling our thumbs.”

The court is used perhaps once a month now, only when their friends from Los Angeles come up for a visit, Emanuel said. It’s hard to get an impromptu game going because so many of the older men have died, he said.

“Chester died. Paul died. Fish is gone. Jesus, all good guys,” Emanuel said, shaking his head. The children of the original residents use the apartments mostly as weekend retreats these days.

Boccie ball is still popular around the world, but their children weren’t interested, Bucci said. They were busy with their own lives and families and didn’t have time to play, he said.

Emanuel and Bucci declined to give the names of the heirs who want to sell the lot, nor would he disclose the asking price.

“They don’t want me to give their names,” Emanuel said. “They don’t want to be bothered, really.”

Even though the For Sale sign is up, the two men seem confident the lot will not sell any time soon.

“Look at how small the phone numbers are,” Emanuel said with a grin. “You can’t even read them when you drive by.”