CAR PARADE SALUTES KOREAN WAR VETERAN
For the second time in his 89 years, Master Sgt. Joe “Chaco” Ramirez Sr. watched a parade roll by in his honor.
The first was in 1953, when the then-22-year-old returned to Houston from the Korean War. He had been shot five times and kept as a prisoner of war for 33 months and one day, an experience so traumatic he weighted just 85 pounds when his plane landed back in Texas.
Almost 67 years later, more than 100 cars rolled past his home in the East End’s Magnolia neighborhood to honor and celebrate his 89th birthday Saturday. His daughter, Rochelle Duplechian, wiped away tears and sweat as she waved at the throngs of supporters.
She was emotional not only because of the community’s outpouring, but because she also worries this birthday may well be Ramirez’s last. Ramirez has been receiving hospice care at his home for the past several weeks after colon cancer that he fought years ago returned.
“The outpouring of love and prayers have been amazing,” Duplechian said. “My dad’s done a lot of amazing things in this community, and I’ll tell you what, he’s been given it back.”
Ramirez’s actions for the community were recited by those along the parade route like a laundry list. Fish fries for the community. Putting together baskets of food for families with little to eat on Thanksgiving. Making fruit baskets to cheer up sick neighbors. Donating his time and money to anyone who needed it.
Then there are all of the organizations he belonged to: American Legion Post 472, the Disabled American Vets, Military Order of the Purple Heart, American ExPrisoners of War, the Korean War Veterans Association Inc., the Marine Corps Heritage Foundation, the 8th Calvary Regiment Assocation and the Combat Infantrymen’s Association.
Isibor Meza has known Ramirez for nearly 30 years through the American Legion. Meza said even when Ramirez was not serving as the post’s commander, everyone in the organization looked up to and revered him for his service and leadership abilities.
He was always the one to quell disagreements, Meza said, and who “kept us all in line.”
“Just his presence — he would come down and you would know he was there. He wasn’t a loud person, he was a quiet person, but you would know he was there,” Meza said. “It’s a God-given honor to know Joe.”
Meza’s wife, Mary Helen, brushed away tears as he spoke about Ramirez. They both remembered listening to him talk about getting out of Camp 5 in Pyokton, North Korea.
He was kept in perpetual darkness and didn’t recognize his emaciated body when he was finally released.
Even after he was able to come home to the East End, he reenlisted months later, ultimately serving 22 years with the Army.
“Nobody nowadays has gone through what he’s been through,” Mary Helen said. “Maybe if more people remembered what he and his brothers went through, all of the craziness in the world would settle down.”
It took nearly 40 minutes for the cars to pass in front of the Ramirez
home. Some, like the Mezas’, were covered in balloons and homemade signs. Several art cars, including one covered in Vincent Van Gogh paintings and another covered in purple fur, idled by.
People crowded into the beds of pickup trucks, waving flags and shouting encouragement. Ramirez waved from a chair his family had set up in the driveway, grinning the whole time.
Jay Goldberg and his son, Harry, rolled up in a baby blue 1962 Buick Special. Neither knew Ramirez personally, but Harry was eager to celebrate the veteran’s service. He had recently celebrated his 19th birthday and graduation during quarantine and knew the frustration of not being able to commemorate the occasions with his friends.
“People aren’t able to be together in the ways they usually are, so the fact there was a way for him to be able to get that recognition, I wanted to make sure he didn’t miss out on that opportunity,” Harry said. “He served our country, and it’s our time to say ‘thank you.’”