Annotations for Subject-headings: History

Every culture has its special days, Diaz de Fiesta. Most often, they're related to a special date in history: Fiestas Patrias, Puertorriqueños celebrate El Grito de Lares on September 23rd. Dominicanos celebrate on February 27th, the Dominican Republic's independence from Haiti. In Mexico and among Mexican Americans, Cinco de Mayo is one such day of celebration, not an Independence Day, but in memory of a battle which took place in 1862. However, as producers Laura Valera and Arthur Duncan found, the historical significance of the holiday is often lost in the midst of cultural festivities. Here's their Cinco de Mayo audio essay.

[Transitional Drum Music]

Cinco de Mayo has to do with the French forces attempting to occupy Mexico. Essentially what it deals with is the defeat of the French forces by the liberal forces of Benito Juarez in the city of Puebla, in the state of Puebla.

Do you know why we celebrate Cinco de Mayo?

All I know is it's a Mexican holiday. I don't really know what the reason is.

I don't know, is it somebody's birthday?

Ah…for me, Cinco de Mayo is a pretty good… good day.

A big event?

A big Fiesta.

That's when the Mexicans took over. They kicked the French out of Mexico!

Y ganamos los mexicanos.

The independence of Mexico.

From?

Spain.

And one last thing. Do you know why we celebrate Cinco de Mayo?

You bet. There's a battle of somewhere… I forget now.

[Transitional Music in Spanish]

Cinco de Mayo did not lead to the ouster of the French. It would represent a significant victory for the Mexicans because it taught them that they could create a real sense of nationalism for them, that they could defeat invading forces and the like. It was significant on the basis of… you know, sort of a moral strength that gave the Mexicanos.

[Transitional Mariachi Music]

We just know it as a celebration, as a fiesta. Aside from it being a festival event, it's an educational event because it is the time of the year that, for some reason, many of our people put our political agendas, our turf agendas aside, and realize that we are all one of a large majority of people in this hemisphere.

Do you celebrate Cinco de Mayo?

Well, doesn't every Hispanic?

Bueno, cuando celebramos el Cinco de Mayo vamos aquí a las fiestas que tienen en el Fiesta Garden.

Yes, a big party.

Con Mariachi, es una fiesta mexicana.

Bueno… el parque.

The typical barbecue con unas cervecitas aquí y allá. I just have a good time with the friends and family.

The most things that I do is dance.

[Corrido Music]

During these festivals, we also realize that there are no borders.

[Corrido Music]

This is news from Latino USA. I'm María Martin. He truly was a legend in his own time, the man who organized farm workers in California and throughout the Southwest beginning in the '60s, whose tireless efforts on their behalf inspired a whole generation to political activism and who, more than 25 years ago, gave then oppressed Mexican Americans a hero and a cause.

[Corrido music]

César Estrada Chávez was born in 1927 on a ranch outside Yuma, Arizona. At age 10, he was working in the fields. 20 some years later, he was organizing Mexican and Filipino farm laborers in California in the first ever successful effort to unionize US agricultural workers.

[Corrido music]

César Chávez died at his home in Arizona, not far from where he was born, but the journey he traveled in those 66 years as a symbol of the Chicano movement, as a unique labor leader, was one of struggle and faith. Not long ago, Father Virgil Elizondo of San Antonio, Texas mused on how far Chávez had come, often fighting a David and Goliath battle against powerful economic interests, but driven by a strong belief in the justice of his cause on behalf of migrant workers.

When Caesar Chávez took on the greatest powers in this country, people said he was crazy…couldn't do it. He has not totally succeeded, but he's come a long way.

Rebecca Flores Harrington works with the United Farm Workers in Texas.

He never forgot where he came from as a farm worker himself, as a migrant farm worker… and he always remembered those experiences. And he inspired others who were different from himself to do the same, to go back into their communities and do something to better the lives of those people in their own communities.

In 30 years as an organizer, Chávez saw his small union grow to a high-tech organization with a pension plan and retirement benefits, but Chávez's union had lost membership and some say moral authority in its later years due to a hostile political environment in California and infighting within the union itself. Osvaldo Jaurechi worked with the UFW until 1990. He says even those people who had had severe fallings out with the UFW founder were in shock on hearing of the passing of César Chávez.

They feel really shocked, really moved, and they think they should go and pay their tribute to the leader for what he was and most for what he still represents as a symbol of the campesino struggle.

[Change in transitional music]

The roots of Latin jazz go back at least five decades to such artists as Machito, Chano Pozo, and Dizzy Gillespie. Latin jazz has lost many of its originators in recent years, but one of them, 81-year-old Mario Bauzá keeps going strong. From Miami, Emilio San Pedro prepared this profile of the legendary co-founder of the band Machito and his Afro-Cubans.

Mario Bauzá left his native Havana for New York in 1930. When he got to this country, Bauzá became one of those responsible for making Afro-Cuban music popular in the United States and around the world.

Had to happen outside of Cuba before the Cuban people convince themself what they had themself over there. When they got big in United States, Cuba begin to move into that line of music.

[Afro-Cuban jazz music]

Bauzá remembers his days at the Apollo Theater in Harlem where he helped to launch the career of Ella Fitzgerald. He recalls his days with the Cab Calloway Orchestra and the time that he and his friends, Dizzy Gillespie and Cozy Cole, played around with Afro-Cuban rhythm and jazz arrangements and created something new: Afro-Cuban Jazz.

[Afro-Cuban jazz music]

In the early 1940s, Bauzá formed the legendary band Machito and his Afro-Cubans, along with his brother-in-law, Frank Grillo, who was called Machito. Bauzá was the musical director of the band and he composed some of the group's most memorable songs.

[Afro-Cuban jazz music]

The sensation caused by Machito and his Afro-Cubans and by other Latin musicians in the '40s made New York the focal point of a vibrant Latin music scene.

[Afro-Cuban jazz music]

It's the scene of The Mambo Kings, you know, and that's why a lot of people will say Mambo is not Cuban music or is not Mexican music. Mambo is New York music.

Enrique Fernández writes about Latin music for the Village Voice. He's also the editor of the New York-based Más Magazine.

It was here that this kind of music became very hot…that it really galvanized a lot of people…that really attracted a lot of musicians from different genres that wanted to jam with it, and that created those great, you know, those great encounters between Latin music practitioners and the jazz practitioners, particularly Black American jazz practitioners. For that, you need to recognize that New York has been, since then, probably before then, but certainly since then, one of the great centers of Latin music.

Mario Bauzá takes great pride in the current popularity of Latin and Caribbean music, but he says people are wrong to call his music Latin jazz. He says that label doesn't give proper recognition to its musical roots.

Merengue, merengue from Santo Domingo. Cumbia is cumbia from Colombia. Afro-Cuban is Cuban. That's why I got to keep [unintelligible] Afro-Cuban rhythms, and Afro-Cuban rhythm…Danzón es cubano…la Danza es cubano…Bolero es cubano…el Cha-cha-cha es cubano…el Mambo es cubano…el Guaguancó es cubano y la Columbia es cubana. So, I got to call it Afro-Cuban Jazz.

[Afro-Cuban jazz music]

After seven decades in the music business, Mario Bauzá has come out of the shadows of the group Machito and his Afro-Cubans and is being recognized for his accomplishments as one of the creators of Afro-Cuban Jazz. This year, Bauzá plans to tour with his Afro-Cuban jazz orchestra featuring Graciela on vocals. The group also plans to release another album of Afro-Cuban jazz: Explosión 93. For Latino USA, I'm Emilio San Pedro.

[Afro-Cuban jazz music]

Certain instruments, like certain rhythms, are characteristic of Latin music. For instance, in Cuban rumba or salsa we hear instruments such as congas, bongos, and timbales. At the heart of Latin music are two simple wooden sticks known as the "clave". Without this simple instrument, Latin music would not be the same. From Boston, Producer Marta Valentín prepared this appreciation of Latin music.

[Salsa music highlight]

A few months ago, while out with an American coworker, I had a great experience while listening to Latin music at a small club here in Cambridge. As I am a Latin woman, it was obvious to me that we were listening to the music in different ways. After watching her tap to the wrong beat for some time, it occurred to me that I could point out an aspect of the music that would enhance her listening, get her tapping on the right beat, and thus make the night more enjoyable for her. [Latin jazz music]

[Latin jazz music] I asked her what she liked so much about Latin music, salsa and Latin jazz in specific. She told me, "The feeling that you get when listening to it. The pulse," she went on to say, "That feels like everyone's heartbeat is one, coming from the earth and reaching to the sky." I smiled, not only because I liked the metaphor, but also because I felt great pride in my music and my culture. I decided it was time to let her in on what that heartbeat is, the clave, or "key" as it is appropriately named, two sticks of wood that are banged together.

[Latin jazz music] In fact, the heartbeat of Cuban rumba and salsa music. That feeling she was referring to is known as the "clave feeling", and comes out of the five-stroke two-measure pattern that identifies it. [Clave sound] This pattern is perceived as a thymic clock that keeps the musicians on the same wavelength. However, when the actual claves are not present in a song, that feeling continues by virtue of melodic phrasing and percussion patterns. Although there are different claves, the two most popular are the Cuban clave, or rumba clave. [Clave sound] And the sone clave. [Clave sound]

As you can hear, the Cuban clave is a half beat later on the third stroke. Listen, Cuban. [Clave sound] And sone [Clave sound]. Although they sound almost the same, they aren't. That's why a musician's ability to not only play in clave, but distinguish the two, is not only attended, key to their success. Let's listen to a little Cuban rumba. This is “Orquestra Original de Manzanillo”, with Comenzó La Fiesta, the Party Has Begun. (“Comenzo La Fiesta Music highlight). In Cuba, the claves are considered to be one male, which is eight inches, and the other female, which is four inches long. Holding the female in a cupped hand, the male bangs against her middle repeatedly.

This gender designation comes from the African influence on the Cuban culture. It is interesting to note also that although the claves themselves are wholly Cuban, never having been found in Africa or Europe, the clave rhythm had permeated African music for centuries. The clave pattern is found in many different styles of music besides rumba and salsa. It is found in meringue, guaracha, danzon, cha-cha-cha, and even boleros. Here's Juan Luis Guerra's bolero,”Señales de Humo”, “Smoke Signals”. (Highlight “Señales de Humo”).

Finally, in salsa music, the clave is regarded as beginning as soon as the music begins, and continuing without interruption until the last note. Even when the music is silent due to rests or changes in the arrangement break the flow, the clave pattern is holding it all together and creating that clave feeling that my coworker loves so much. So next time you listen to Latin music, whether it be rumba, salsa, bolero, Latin jazz, whatever, try tapping along with the clave. It's simple when you can hear the actual claves, but then graduate to a more complex piece if you're up for the challenge.

Here's Seis del Solar, Una Sola Casa, One House. From Boston, I'm Marta Valentín. [Highlight “Una Sola Casa”).

It's been viewed by thousands of people in Los Angeles, Denver, Albuquerque, El Paso, Washington DC, and the Bronx in New York. Now the art exhibit known as the CARA show opens at its last venue of it's two year run in San Antonio. The exhibit examines the Chicano art movement of the 60s and 70s, through a wide range of multimedia, including posters, holograms, and altars. Latino USA's Maria Martin prepared this report.

[Tejano music background] The exhibit known as the CARA show, the acronym for Chicano Art Resistance and Affirmation, is the first-ever to focus specifically on Chicano art as opposed to Hispanic or Latin American art. Tomas Ybarra-Frausto, an art specialist with the Rockefeller Foundation and a member of the show's planning committee, calls the CARA show a landmark art exhibit which will put Chicano art on the map.

In the United States it's very difficult for Chicano art to get a hearing. First of all, because even today all the Latinos are lumped under the word Hispanic. And so, Chicano immediately separates out in a very particular way from that Hispanic rubric, which in a way many people, of course don't like because it means that it does away with your Indigenous and your African element, and only proclaims the European Spanish element. So, in that sense, because Chicano art is an art that fractures the myth of consensus, it's unknown.

[Natural sound, clapping] Playwright Luis Valdez, a member of CARA's National Honorary Committee, talked about the connection that Chicano art has with his pre-Hispanic roots.

The Aztecs had a term for growing up, for maturing, for living. All human beings in the process of their life acquired a face. And so, here the name of this exhibit, CARA, invokes this ancient concept. But it is not just the face of the Chicano community. It is not just the face of the Hispanic community. It is the face of America, and that is why I want to correct the usage of a certain title. I am not per se a Hispanic. I am a pre-Hispanic.

Officials at the San Antonio Museum of Art are hoping for a record turnout for the CARA show, which will be accompanied by a number of community events, and a low rider parade on opening day.

For over 30 years, pianist Eddie Palmieri has been pushing the creative limits of Latin music. His unorthodox experimental style has defied musical categories. [Background--Music--Piano] Reporter Alfredo Cruz of station WBGO in Newark recently spoke with Eddie Palmieri, the Musical Renegade, and he prepared this report.

[Background--Music--Piano] Like his music, Eddie Palmieri is intensely energetic. His piano solos have been known to go from delicate esoteric explorations to fist pounding accents, all within the same phrase. He has developed his own musical identity. When Eddie plays the sound of a note or a chord is immediately recognizable as unmistakably Palmieri. He admits however, he didn't always want to be a pianist.

Well, on the piano I started at eight years old and then by 11, 12 I wanted to be a timbalero, a drummer and Tito Puente was my idol. By that time I started with my uncle who had a conjunto, El Chido y su alma Tropical. We had a trecita, y traijta, bongocero, congero. My other uncle Frankie, I played timbales, and I stood with them for almost two years until I couldn't carry the drums anymore. I just couldn't do it.

[Highlight--Music--Salsa]

One of Palmieri's earliest and most important musical influences was his older brother Charlie. Also a pianist who not only served as mentor but helped Eddie get started in the business over 30 years ago.

My brother Charlie used to play with Tito Puente. That was one of the most important conjuntos that we've ever had here. Wherever my brother would go and play, he would recommend me, and that's how I got into an orchestra called Ray Almore Quintet and first Johnnie Segui in '55, Vincentico Valdez, Pete Terrace at the interim, back to Vincentico Valdez for summer in '58 in the Palladium, and then for '58, '60 with Tito Rodrigez After that I went on my own.

Highlight--Music--salsa

The big new trombone sound he had developed revolutionized Afro-Cuban music in the 1960s. Eddie Palmieri had found the perfect combination and called his new band La Perfecta. [Background--Music--Piano] They were sensation at dance halls like the now legendary Palladium, where battle of the bands were common and Palmieri reigned supreme. His influence, however, wasn't limited just to the East Coast. A classic collaboration with California vibraphonist Cal Tjader came about when word got out that no one could go toe to toe with Palmieri's band, La Perfecta.

Cal Tjader knew that and he went to the record one. So he came to see me and then we made the agreement to record two albums, one for his company, which were Verb records, and then we recorded the other one, Bamboleate with Tiko, moving from one direction, which is the authentic dance orchestra to get into the album that we merged with him because he saw right away I went into variations. We did a walls resemblance and things like that. It was very interesting and very educational for me and rewarding because Cal Tjader was a great, great player.

[Highlight--Music--Piano]

Eventually, for Palmieri, even La Perfecta wasn't perfect. And his classic recording Champagne signaled a change in his musical direction.

Highlight--Music--Salsa

This was done in 1968. That's where La Perfecta breaks up. The beginning of '68, we did a tour of Venezuela and after that, that was the ending of La Perfecta. Phase one curtain down, that was it. Boom.

[Highlight--Music--Salsa]

Over the last 25 years, many of Palmieri's recordings have become classics and his orchestras have provided approving ground for promising young Latino and jazz musicians. Much like Art Blakey's messengers was to jazz. But in spite of winning five Grammy awards, record companies have met his innovative musical experiments with skepticism. Recently, however, Palmieri finalized negotiations on a new contract with Electra Asylum records.

[Background--Music--Afro-Caribbean Jazz] And we're going into a whole other direction. We're going into the Afro-Caribbean Jazz per se. My first attempt by writing specifically in that form. See, I have recorded in that vein as far as composition that chocolate ice cream or 17.1 or VP Blues that I have done, and I've always looking in that direction, in that country. But this time I'm really writing specifically in that vein.

As to what's in store for the future, whatever musical direction he might take, Palmieri says the core of his music will always remain in Latin rhythms.

Those rhythmical patterns will always intrigue me. They've been here now for 40,000 years, so they'll be here for another 40,000 for sure.

Yeah.

But I will not be here that long, but in the time that I'm here, I'm going to utilize it to the maximum and then achieve and have a wonderful time doing that and incorporating that into our music because it's something that certainly intrigue me and I must achieve that. It will. [Background--Music--Afro-Caribbean Jazz]

[Background--Music--Afro-Caribbean Jazz] Eddie Palmieri's new recording is scheduled for a fall release. From Newark, New Jersey for Latino USA, I'm Alfredo Cruz.

Hollywood movies and television commercials often give us quick, concise images of people and places along the US-Mexico border. Going beyond those media-made notions towards real understanding is difficult, even impossible. Without firsthand contact. In the nation's capital, there was an attempt to go beyond those media images of the border. It was part of the Smithsonian Institution's annual Festival of American Folklife. But as Franc Contreras reports from Washington, real, cultural understanding required more than a taste of border foods or the sounds of border music.

[Natural sounds of Washington D.C.] Some young guys from Mexicali were standing in a crowd between the Capitol building and the Washington Monument. They wore baggy pants, some had dark glasses, and others' headbands pulled way down low. To some people, they looked like gangsters, but they're not. They're cholos with a distinctive style of dress that comes straight from the border. Suddenly, they started speaking Spanish out loud.

Bueno, aqui pasa todo los dias la patrulla fronteriza. Que tal si sacamos la lengua?

Border patrol goes through here every day. Let's stick our tongues out at them.

[Natural sounds of Folklife Festival] Then from behind a food stamp where some beans were cooking, A guy came out wearing all white with a pointed hood clan style. [Highlight, natural sounds of Folklife Festival] It was the border patrol chasing down one of the Cholos people watching realized it was a play by a theater group from Mexicali, a border town south of California. The actors were hitting one of the main issues on the border, immigration. Their translator is Quique Aviles.

A lot of people complain that they don't understand because the show is being done in Spanish, but at the same time, that's what life is. When Latinos come here, we don't understand either. So, we were talking about that last night. It's sort of like returning the favor.

A woman walked past us, dressed like the Virgin of Guadalupe, the patron saint of Mexico. She went past a display where a man was making guitars by hand, past a group of muralists from El Paso who were painting an eagle, and over to a food stand where a Black woman who speaks only Spanish was serving tamales and Tecate beer, and next to her was a woman from Texas.

We're breaking a lot of preconceived ideas, a lot of biases that perhaps have been most influenced by the media.

Cynthia Vidaurri teaches at the Southwestern Borderlands Cultural Studies and Research Center in Kingsville, Texas. She says, the American Folk Life Festival in Washington is an opportunity not only for people who've never seen the border, but also for people who've come here from the border to share their cultures.

The rest of the world perceives us as what the media makes us out to be, the movies, the news, and they're really thrilled to have a chance to say, this is who we are. We are living, breathing human beings that have the same needs as you do. We just take care of those needs in a slightly different fashion.

That sounds fairly straightforward, and some people walked away from here with more understanding about the people of the borderlands, but not without some effort. At one display, Romi Frias of El Paso was trying to explain to some people from Delaware, what a low rider is, you know, a highly stylized car, usually an older model with small thin tires, maybe a mural painted on the hood and lowered about an inch from the pavement.

[Laughter] I tell people that it's really going to mess you up. You're doing about 55 and there's this monster pothole and you've got about an inch clearance. I've got a lot of friends that face that situation and unfortunately hadn't learned the hard way.

Later under a shaded area, there was a storytelling session. It was supposed to be about women on the border. An Indian woman from the Mexican side sat on the left. On the right was a white woman who works for the US Border Patrol in the middle of the two women sat a university professor. He was monopolizing the discussion. Then at another storytelling session about immigration, the professor was taking over again. Some people in the back were saying it was typical. Here's this white male, the expert, not letting the others talk. After the session, I went over to him and learned his name is Enrique Lamadrid, a man of mixed races whose family migrated to the Americas from France and Spain like many others along the border. His family goes back generations. Lamadrid says he saw many surprised people at the folk fest who learned of the amazing cultural diversity along the border.

I mean, just the amazement that you can see in people's faces when they encounter these two black women over here from the black Seminole community. They're Mexicans. So these are really complex cultural entities.

Complex, like the land where they live. The border is often characterized by clashing cultural forces. Lamadrid says People living on the border cross the international boundary daily, but it's no big deal because it's part of their daily life. And he said the people living along the 2000-mile separating line did not come to the border. It came to them. Then he mentioned a series of treaties between the US and Mexico dating back to the late 18 hundreds. It's a complex history, a balancing act, he says, because the needs of border people compete with the national needs of Washington and Mexico City, and the result of that struggle is border culture.

But culture isn't in your blood. Culture is something that you learn. Culture and identities are things that are negotiated and forged every day of our lives as we live our lives out in specific areas of the country.

Lamadrid told me about a sewer line that broke during the festival Sunday morning. Smelly dark sewer water flooded a small area around some of the exhibits. He and the other said it reminded them of some border towns where pollution has become a major problem. But on the day the sewer broke, people taking part in the American Folk life Festival this year continued their efforts to share their life's experiences as the smell and humidity surrounded them. For Latino USA, I'm Franc Contreras in Washington.

Hector Lavoe, one of Salsa's superstars. Known worldwide as El Cantante de los Cantantes and the Latin Sinatra, died in New York City, June 29th, after a lifetime of music and tragedy. Thousands poured into the streets at his funeral in New York. Fans and musicians, they all came to pay tribute to Hector Lavoe. From New York, Mandalit del Barco prepared this remembrance of a salsa legend.

Latin jazz great Mario Bauzá died July 11 of cancer in his Manhattan home, just blocks from where I live. Mario Bauzá, an integral part of New York's Latin jazz scene, was 82 years old.

I remember this great musician sitting on a milk crate outside a bodega, surrounded by friends, drinking coffee, and enjoying the simple things of life. You would've never known it by seeing him that this small, tender, smiley man had totally revolutionized American music.

In the 1940s, he influenced popular music by innovating a new musical style which mixed popular Afro-Cuban rhythms with American jazz.

Emilio San Pedro prepared this remembrance of Latin jazz legend Mario Bauzá.

[Afro-Cuban jazz]

Mario Bauzá was first exposed to American jazz in 1926, when he visited New York. In 1930, anxious to become a part of that scene, Bauzá left his native Havana for New York, frustrated that in Cuba, Afro-Cuban music was considered merely the music of the streets, not the music of the sophisticated nightclubs, country clubs, and hotels of pre-revolutionary Havana.

Had to happen outside of Cuba before the Cuban people convinced themself what they had, themself over there. They didn't pay no attention to that. When I got big in United States, Cuba begin to move into that line of music.

[Afro-Cuban jazz]

In the 1930s, Bauzá performed with some of New York's best-known jazz musicians, like Chick Webb and Cab Calloway. In fact, in those days, Bauzá was responsible for introducing singer Ella Fitzgerald to Chick Webb, thus helping to launch her career. It was also Bauzá who gave Dizzy Gillespie his first break, with the Cab Calloway Orchestra.

During their time touring and working with Cab Calloway, Mario Bauzá and Dizzy Gillespie, along with the Afro-Cuban percussionist Chano Pozo, played around with Afro-Cuban rhythm and jazz arrangements and created something entirely new: Afro-Cuban jazz.

[Machito--Sopa de pichon]

In the early 1940s, Mario Bauzá formed the legendary band Machito and his Afro-Cubans, along with his brother-in-law, Francisco Perez, who was called Machito. Bauzá was the musical director of the band, and he composed and arranged some of the group's most memorable songs.

[Machito--Sopa de pichon]

The sensation caused by Machito and his Afro-Cubans and by other Latin musicians in the 1940s made New York the focal point of a vibrant Latin music scene.

It's the scene of the Mambo kings you know, and that's why a lot of people will say Mambo is not Cuban music or it's not Mexican music. Mambo is New York music.

Enrique Fernandez writes about Latin music for the Village Voice.

It was here that this kind of music became very hot, that it really galvanized a lot of people, that had really attracted a lot of musicians from different genres that wanted to jam with it, and that created those great encounters between Latin music practitioners and jazz practitioners, particularly Black American jazz practitioners, that brought all this stuff together that later on, generated salsa and it generated Latin jazz and a lot of other things.

[Machito--Si si no no]

Groups like Machito and his Afro-Cubans were responsible for sparking a Latin dance craze in the United States, from New York to Hollywood. Mario Bauzá's sister-in-law, Graciela Pérez, began singing with Bauzá's orchestra in 1943.

Pero jurate que la música de esta…[transition to English dub] The music made by Machito's orchestra created such a revolution that you could say people began to enjoy because dance schools sprang up to teach the mamba and the guaguanco and all that [transition back to original audio]…el guaguanco todo todo.

Graciela and Mario left Machito's band in 1976 to form their own group, Mario Bauzá and his Afro-Cuban jazz Orchestra. Achieving recognition came slowly for the new band as general audiences lost interest in the traditional Afro-Cuban jazz sounds.

But in the late 1980s, Bauzá's music experienced a resurgence in popularity. His orchestra played to packed houses in the United States, Canada, and Europe. And in the last two years, Bauzá still active and passionate about his music, recorded three albums worth of material.

Meringue, meringue from San Domingo. Cumbia's cumbia from Colombia. Afro-Cuban is Cuban. That's why I've got to keep a bunch of these Afro-Cuban rhythms. Danzón Cubano, la danza Cubano, el bolero Cubano, el cha-cha-cha Cubano, el mambo es Cubano, guaguanco Cubano, la Colombia es Cubana.So I've got to call it Afro-Cuban, yeah.

In a 1991 interview, I spoke with Mario Bauzá about his extraordinary musical output.

You've brought out these great musicians, you've helped create or created Afro-Cuban jazz, brought Latin music and Latins to Broadway.

That's it.

And you're 80 years old.

Yes.

Many people at 80 years old are sitting by the pool or in the rocking chair and whatever. You don't look like it.

You know me. It ain't going to be like that.

What else could you do at this point, what more?

I don't know. I ain't through, I ain't through. I just wanted my music to be elevated. That's why I want to record this suite now. I want to see the word, music is music. You tell me what kind of music. I like any kind of music that we're playing. And that's what I tried to do, present my music different way. Some people might don't like this, don't like that, but when they hear that, they have a right to choose for. That's what I want them to do.

[Mario Bauza--Carnegie Hall 100]

Mario Bauzá worked steadily until his death. He recently released a compact disc on the German record label Messidor called My Time is Now.

For "Latino USA," I'm Emilio San Pedro.

[Mario Bauza--Carnegie Hall 100]

The musical style known as La Nueva Canción, the new song movement, was beginning in the mid sixties and for 20 years, the signature sound of Latin American music. Founded by singers Violeta Parra and Víctor Jara of Chile and Atahualpa Yupanqui in Argentina. La Nueva Canción sought to create an awareness of Latin America's Indigenous musical heritage while addressing the region's political situation. Today, as younger generations identify more with the Rock in español, or Rock in Spanish movement, La Nueva Canción has lost some of its popularity. But a group of Latin American musicians living in Madison Wisconsin, believes strongly that La Nueva Canción is still alive and well. Even as they strive for a new sound fusing musical styles. Betto Arcos prepared this profile of the musical group called Sotavento.

[Transition Music]

Founded in 1981 by a group of Latin Americans living in Madison, Wisconsin. Sotavento's early recordings focused on the legacy of the Nueva canción movement. Traditional music primarily from South American regions played on over 30 instruments, but as the group grew musically and new members replaced the old ones, their approach to music making also changed.

[Un Siete--Sotavento]

For percussionist. Orlando Cabrera, a native of Puerto Rico, the band search for a new sound helps each member bring his or her own musical background.

We get together and someone starts playing a rhythm based on some traditional music, let's say from Mexico, from Peru. This person might ask, why do you play something there? Some percussion, for example, and at least in my case, my first approach will be to play what I grew up with. The things I feel more comfortable with. So if it fits and it sounds good, then we'll just go ahead and do something.

We are a hybrid. I mean we're all kind of different flowers that are being sort of sewn together and planted together, and what comes out is a very, very different kind of flower.

[Flute music] The hybrid group always searching for its own sound is how founding member Anne Fraioli defines the music of Sotavento and in their last recording, mostly original compositions. Sotavento takes Latin American music one step ahead by blending instruments and styles to form a new one.

[Amacord--Sotavento]

Sotavento's approach to composing and playing music is the group's artistic response to a top 40 music industry that overlooks creativity and experimentation. For Francisco López, a native of Mexico, this commercial environment and the group's principles of Nueva Canción have a lot to do with Sotavento's search for a new sound.

Nueva Canción has always been alive and always been alive because there's always somebody out there that is trying to produce new stuff, and that's what Nueva Canción is all about. Somebody that is uncomfortable with situations. Say for example, the commercialization of music.

According to lead vocalist, Laura Fuentes. The fact that the group's music may be heard on a light jazz or new age radio station proves that Sotavento's music is what is happening right now and that it is not completely folkloric or passe.

[Esto Es Sencillo--Sotavento]

However, Laura Fuentes believes that Sotavento's music is not specifically designed to sell. Sharing what they feel as artists is hard.

But it's worth it. I can't see us putting on shiny clothes and high heels trying to sell somebody something that we are not, something that people seem to be more willing to buy. I'd rather challenge people to hear the beauty in something different, something new.

[El Destajo--Sotavento]

For Fuentes, a native of Chile, Sotavento is also a way of establishing a connection between an artistic musical expression and its historical background.

[El Destajo--Sotavento]

An example of this connection is a Afro Peruvian style, known as Festejo, a musical style created by a small black community in Peru as a result of the living conditions they experienced during slavery.

[El Destajo--Sotavento]

In keeping with the tradition of the new song movement, Sotavento arranged music for a poem by Cuba's Poet Laureate, Nicolás Guillén. The poem called, Guitarra is for Sotavento's and Farioli a symbol of the voice of the people.

[Guitarra--Sotavento]

Wherever people are, there's going to be a voice, and I think my guitarra represents that voice, that's music, and I think it's also saying that people have to hold on to their roots. They have to hold on to their musical traditions, because it's those traditions that are really going to allow them to express who they really are, where they really come from.

[Guitarra--Sotavento]

This summer Sotavento will perform in Milwaukee and Madison, and in the fall there will begin a tour of Spain. The recording called El Siete was released on Redwood records. For Latino USA, this is Betto Arcos, Colorado.

I'm Maria Hinojosa. Today on Latino USA, remembering a 20-year-old case of police misconduct.

Santos is a symbol of what was happening to the Mexican-American community and the African-American community back in 1973. It can never happen again. It's like those bumper stickers: Remember Santos, nunca mas. Because there were a lot of other Santos' all throughout the United States. There's a lot of other Rodney Kings.

And the musical legacy of Cachao, the creator of the Mambo.

Cachao has been, in a sense, overlooked for his contributions musically to the world of music. Musicians know of him and anyone would say, "Oh, he's the master," but in terms of the general public, he's been really ignored.

That's all coming up on Latino USA. But first, las noticias.

The incident that happened 20 years ago with Santos Rodriguez certainly cast a shadow or a cloud over the city of Dallas.

Santos is a symbol, a symbol of what was happening to the Mexican-American community and the African-American community back in 1973.

20 years ago this summer, a 12-year-old boy named Santos Rodriguez was killed by Dallas police officer Darrell Cain. The incident occurred after the boy and his brother were pulled from their beds in the middle of the night, accused of breaking into a soda machine at a gas station. The boys denied taking part in the robbery. Santos was killed when Officer Cain attempted to wring a confession from him by playing Russian Roulette with a loaded gun. The incident ignited protests in Chicano communities throughout the country, and recently members of the Latino community in Dallas held a full day of events to commemorate Santos' life and death.

[Background--Hymns]

A memorial service for Santos Rodriguez was held at the Santuario de Guadalupe in downtown Dallas, just south of the neighborhood called Little Mexico. Now mostly an African-American neighborhood, back in 1973 it was the heart of the Mexican barrio.

In 1973 I was 14 years old and I didn't know Santos even though I lived about three blocks from his house.

Now, a member of the Dallas City Council, Domingo Garcia recalls the early seventies when Santos was killed, as a time when minorities had absolutely no political clout in Dallas. "We were invisible Dallasites," he says. "Vulnerable to mistreatment by authorities." He himself remembers being stopped often by the police.

Being put up against the wall and pressed. What was my crime? Happened to be brown, happened to be young, happened to be on the streets, especially if it was after dark. And it wasn't like just one time, it was just common, and it wasn't just common to me, it was common to most of my friends. And so, in that type of environment, the police were seen not as the people who protected you, who were there to serve and to protect, but in essence as an occupying force. And when you see that type of relationship between a community and a police department and in a political establishment, then you see the tragic consequences of what happened to Santos Rodriguez.

We're trying to make correction within the police department. That's the reason the Latino Police Officers Association formed nearly two years ago.

Dallas Police Officer Gil Cerda, President of the Dallas Latino Police Officers Association, says that, "20 years after the death of Santos Rodriguez, there are still problems with the city police department."

20 years ago it was more blunt. Hispanic police officers would face discrimination on a daily basis. Today it's faced covert. In other words, they're not going to come out flat outright and tell you, "Hey, you know what? I don't like Hispanic officers being on the police department," but it's out there.

Dallas police spokesperson, Sandra Ortega de King says, despite two shootings of Mexican men by Dallas police officers in recent years, the relationship between the city's police department and the Latino community is better, more lenient, she says than ever before.

They are listening a little bit more to the community because the community within the Dallas area has grown. Population of the Hispanics has grown so dramatically. Just the city of Dallas is 20% Hispanic.

Councilman Garcia believes relations between the police and the Hispanic community of Dallas have come a long way since the death of Santos Rodriguez, as the Latino community has grown and slowly become a part of the city's political structure.

As a police department is diversified, we've seen that now the police department is looked on on a more favorable light. Crime has gone down and the amount of police abuses has gone down. Before Santos, police abuse was institutional and systematic. After Santos it became more sort of haphazard. What we need to learn about Santos Rodriguez's death, is that it can never happen again. It's like those bumper stickers. Remember Santos, nunca mas, because there were a lot of other Santos' all throughout the United States, there's a lot of other Rodney Kings.

City council member Domingo Garcia of Dallas, Texas.

We've just heard a report about relations between the police and Latino community in the city of Dallas, Texas. With us on the phone to address the issue from the perspective of other communities, our attorney, Juan Milanes, legal counsel for Washington DC's Latino Civil Rights task force, and from California, professor Gloria Romero, chair of the Hispanic Advisory Council for the Los Angeles Police Commission. Welcome to both of you. Is there a problem, a historical problem between the Latino community and police departments across this country, or is it just a question of isolated incidents in certain areas?

In my mind, there's no doubt that it's a national issue, and I think that if we look at Washington D.C., if we look at Miami, Florida, if we take a look at Houston or Dallas or Albuquerque, Denver, LA, San Jose; in every community, historically, the issues of tensions between police and community have arisen. And that's not only in the contemporary period, but historically within the last 50 years. We can even go back to the Zoot Suit Riots in Los Angeles. So there is a legacy I think that's present.

Why is that legacy there? What is the root of the tension between police departments and the Latino community?

I think if you want to take a look at the underlying issues of police community tensions, you're looking at not simply the police, but what police symbolize. And to me, that comes down to taking a look at perhaps an institution of society that is there to maintain what people perceive to be an unjust order. And over the last 50 years, we have seen movements to raise the quality of life, to equalize conditions between Latinos and others in this society, and in that sense, as long as you're going to find inequity in just the day-to-day living standards of people, it's not surprising to find challenges to that order, which is there to maintain.

In Washington D.C. you saw a very large influx of new immigrants, which is the predominant group of Latinos here in Washington, that the city truly just wasn't prepared to deal with because the increase in the population has been exponential when compared to any other group. So that in the last 10 years, Hispanics have doubled in size here, especially with regard to the police department. So few Hispanics and so few bilingual police officers has led to the problem of cultural clashes as well as a language barrier.

In both of your communities, there have been studies and recommendations made about how to deal with the issue of police and Latino community relations. In the aftermath what has been done to address those issues?

Well, I think on one hand we still have to look at quote, unquote the aftermath. The aftermath is more immigrant bashing than ever. In Los Angeles you're looking at the picking up just recently of skinheads accu- basically ready to bomb. It was focused on the south central African-American community, but the issues around which this aroused the greatest sentiment was around issues of Rodney King police brutality. So I think we have to look at the aftermath. There is the criminalization of the Latino that is not new. We can go back 50 years again and it's still the Frito Bandito. You still have the Latino, the Mexican, the Salvadorian as the criminal illegal alien. That's the language that's being used. So I believe that yes, in Los Angeles and nationally we had the Christopher Commission report. We've had the Colts report, we've had the Webster's report and decades before we had the McCone Commission and the Kerner reports. We have had study after study after study, and these are significant and important, but the bottom line is I will continue to take a look at, until we as a society at all levels, federal and state and local, take a look at some of the underlying complications of economic, social, political, racial inequity. We can put all the reports we want in impressive array in our library shelves, but we're not getting to the root causes and consequences of tensions in the community into which police immerse themselves.

And in Washington D.C., Juan.

Not that different. One of the things that we found when we did our investigation was that officers would compete in the third and fourth police districts, which are the police districts with the largest Hispanic populations in the District of Columbia, would compete for what was known, Officer of the Month Award. The Officer of the Month Award is based on a number of different factors, one of which is number of arrests, and one practice would be that officers would routinely go into the poorer, most immigrant sections of the Latino community and pick up individuals on disorderly conduct arrests to basically hike up their own arrest records to be able to compete for that Officer of the Month Award, and would ultimately trump up charges against anyone for anything.

Well, thank you very much for joining us on Latino USA. Attorney Juan Milanes, legal counsel for Washington D.C.'s, Latino Civil Rights Task Force, and Professor Gloria Romero, chair of the Hispanic Advisory Council for the Los Angeles Police Commission. Thanks again, for Latino USA.

One of the featured musicians on Gloria Estefan's recent recording of traditional Cuban music, "Mi Tierra", is Israel Lopez. Also known as Cachao, Lopez now in his seventies, is just beginning to gain recognition for creating many of the familiar rhythms associated with styles like the mambo and el cha-cha-cha. From Miami, Emilio San Pedro prepared this musical profile.

[Transition--Cuban Music]

(Background music) In his younger days, Israel Lopez was known for his interpretation of traditional Cuban musical styles, like el son and danzón. Lopez comes from one of Cuba's oldest musical families and got his nickname, Cachao, from his grandfather, a one-time director of Havana's municipal band. Cachao recalls how after a while he and his brother, Orestes, became bored with playing the same old traditional danzónes, and created a new dance music called the mambo.

[Descarga Mambo--Israel “Cachao” Lopez]

Entonces en el año 37 entre mi Hermano y yo nos… [transition to English dub] In 1937, between my brother and I, we took care of this mambo business. We gave our traditional music, our danzón, a 180-degree turn. What we did was modernize it… [transition back to original audio] …lo que hicimos fue modernizarlo.

In the late 1950s, Cachao got a group of Cuba's top musical artists together for a set of 4:00 AM recording sessions that started after the musicians got off work at Havana's hotels and nightclubs. The group included Cachao's brother, Orestes, El Negro Vivar, Guillermo Barreto, and Alfredo León of Cuba's legendary Septeto Nacional. Cachao says he called those jam sessions descargas, literally discharges, because of the uninhibited atmosphere that surrounded those recordings.

En la descarga se presa uno libremente, cuando uno esta leyendo música no es los mismo… [transition to English dub] In the descarga you express yourself freely. When you are reading music it's just not the same. You are reading the music and so your heart can't really feel it. That's why that rhythm is so strong and everyone likes it so much… [transition to original audio] Fuerte! Y muy bien, todo el mundo encantado.

[Descarga Mambo--Israel “Cachao” Lopez]

Cachao left Cuba in 1962, but his association with the descarga, el mambo, and el danzón kept him busy in this country playing everything from small parties and weddings to concerts with top musicians like Mongo Santamaria, and Tito Puente. For young Cubans growing up in the United States, the music of Cachao and other artists has served as a link to their cultural roots.

His music has inspired me over the years and has brought solace to me and many times and has been a companion for me. Anybody who knows me will know that I carry tapes of Cachao with me in my pocket.

Actor Andy Garcia is one of those young Cubans on whom Cachao's music made a lasting impact. Garcia recently directed a documentary on the musician's life titled "Cachao...Como Su Ritmo No Hay Dos." "Like His Rhythm, There's No Other."

Cachao has been, in a sense, overlooked for his contributions musically to the world of music, world internationally. Musicians know of him and anyone say, "Oh, he's the master," but in terms of the general public, he's been really ignored. So it's important to document something, so somehow that would help bring attention to his contributions to music.

The documentary mixes concert footage with the conversation with Cachao. The concert took place last September in Miami, bringing together young and older interpreters of Cuban and Latin music in a tribute to Cachao and his descarga.

Very modest, extremely modest man. Quiet, shy.

One of the musicians who played with Cachao in that concert is violinist Alfredo Triff. He says, "The 74 year old maestro has lessons to teach young musicians that go beyond music."

He's such a modest person that in fact, I realized that he was the creator of this thing, this mambo thing. And I'll tell you what, not only me, I remember Paquito once in Brooklyn, we were playing, or in the Bronx, we were playing the Lehman College. And Paquito comes to the room and he says, Alfredo, you know that mambos, Cachao invented this thing.

Andy Garcia's documentary, "Como Su Ritmo No Hay Dos", is bringing Cachao some long-delayed recognition. And these days, Cachao is quite busy promoting the film, working on a new album, and collaborating with Gloria Estefan on her latest effort, "Mi Tierra", "My Homeland," a tribute to the popular Cuban music of the 1930s and '40s.

[No Hay Mal Que Por Bien No Venga--Gloria Estefan]

The album "Mi Tierra" has become an international hit in the few weeks since its release. The documentary, "Cachao, Como Su Ritmo No Hay Dos", has been shown at the Miami and San Francisco film festivals. Cachao also plans to go into the recording studio later this year to put together an album of danzónes.

Es baile de verdad Cubano, y se ha ido olvidado… [transition to English dub] It's the traditional Cuban dance, and it's being forgotten. Here you almost never hear a danzón. I wish the Cubans would realize that this is like the mariachi. The Mexican never forgets his mariachi. Wherever it may be, whatever star may be performing, the mariachi is there. It's a national patrimony, as the danzón should be for us and we should preserve it... [transition to original audio] …danzón…y debemos preservarlo también.

Cachao strongly believes in preserving Afro-Cuban culture and its musical traditions. He hopes to keep those traditions alive with his music. For Latino USA, I'm Emilio San Pedro.

[No Hay Mal Que Por Bien No Venga--Gloria Estefan]

Since it first opened in Los Angeles in September of 1991. The art exhibit known as CARA, the acronym for Chicano Art Resistance and Affirmation has traveled throughout the country to Denver, Albuquerque, El Paso, San Francisco, the Bronx, and Washington DC, bringing art inspired by the Chicano political and social movements of the 60s and 70s to audiences that had sometimes not even heard of the word Chicano. The CARA exhibits last stop was at the San Antonio Museum of Art. Museum patrons on this last afternoon of the CARA exhibit seemed to appear a little bit more intently than usual at this collection of 130 works by 90 Chicano artists from across the country. San Antonio artist David Zamora Casas was among those getting a last glimpse of the landmark art exhibit.

It has opened up the link that we have with our collective past. It has made it okay to and cool to be Chicano again.

Spanish teacher Barbara Merrill came from Devine, Texas. She says the works in the CARA show help her to better understand her mostly Mexican-American students.

There’s so much of the heritage and seeing it through the eyes of the Mexican American. The quote over there, the A Chicano is a Mexican American through non-Anglo eyes, speaks very much to me through this exhibit.

Combining art, politics and history. These diverse works, posters, murals, and multimedia together defined a distinct Chicano aesthetic.

What that meant some 15 years ago is that Chicano artists began to look inward at their own experience to look at their own traditions.

Art historian Dr. Jacinto Quirarte curated the exhibit in San Antonio.

Things that the Chicanos themselves had experienced rather than leapfrogging over to Mexico and looking at things indirectly. By the mid-70s Chicano artists began to really know who they were and by the 80s they were really well onto their own.

In three years of touring the Chicano Art, Resistance, and Affirmation exhibit has brought this distinctive artistic style to the attention of the mainstream art world, but perhaps its most lasting impact has been on audiences who had seldom before seen themselves reflected on museum walls.

We worked the fields in the summer and on weekends during the school year, whatever crop was seasoned. So uh-

30 year old beautician, Sally Ortiz came to see the exhibit twice in San Antonio before it closed. The familiar images she says like that of the Virgin of Guadalupe and of farm worker life and struggle touched a deep cord of memory.

The lettuce and the grapes and the pesticides. I remember my mother talking about the pesticides and of course I was very young and I never understood, but she used to always say, ‘que era muy venenoso.’ Just looking at everything. Just, it's like looking into my past all over again.

And for others too young or not around during the heyday of the Chicano movement, the CARA show proved an education.

Looking at the photos of all the rallies that they had, I found my mother in one of them and it just made me feel really proud that my parents had never really told me about it. But then they started telling me about all this stuff, makes me really proud that people were so alive back then and it just makes me want to be more alive now with the movement because it is still going on.

In San Antonio, as well as the other cities where CARA was exhibited, the show brought in more Latinos than had ever visited those institutions previously. The challenge now say many observers is to keep them coming.

A revival of traditional Mexican mariachi music is taking place across this country and many Latino youth are participating. Marcos Martinez of Radio Station, KUNM prepared this report on the Mariachi celebration held recently in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Now in its fourth year.

[Mariachi Music]

Albuquerque's Mariachi Spectacular brings together groups from throughout the southwest who bring their instruments and their devotion to the music for four days of workshops and concerts. On a Saturday afternoon, some eight mariachi groups alternate between six different stages along Main street of the New Mexico State fairgrounds. This is called Plaza Garibaldi modeled after the original Plaza Garibaldi in Mexico City where Mariachis gathered to play and find work. This year, about half the groups at Plaza Garibaldi are high school students. 17 year old Nick Watson plays with Mariachi Oro Del Sol from El Paso, Texas. He says Mariachi music is complex and fun to play

Well because it's challenging. It has more than three chords. It's basically what I think rock and roll is. And not that I'm knocking, I like rock and roll, but it's challenging. It's more challenging to play, you know, learn a lot more from it.

[Mariachi Music]

With this music, you can express your feelings more.

How?

Um, with the songs, the words and stuff, they're very powerful words.

Jennifer Luna is the leader of Mariachi Oro del Sol and shares Watson's enthusiasm. She says in her part of Texas, young people are very drawn to this style of music.

A lot of young people play in El Paso. That's mostly what there is there. The groups are younger kids. Cause over there it's in the schools they teach it to you, so it's pretty common over there.

The word mariachi comes from the French word for marriage. According to history, French people who came to Mexico in the 1800s became interested in the Mexican string bands of the time and invited them to play at French weddings. Today, mariachis typically include guitar, violin, trumpet, and the vihuela, which is a small guitar, and the guitarrón, which is a very large guitar. While they carry on traditions, youth mariachi groups like Oro Del Sol are also different from the older generation of mariachis in that they tend to be more gender balanced. Nick Watson says his mariachi group is all the better for including young women musicians.

They're good. We just picked who’s good and they're good. So we take them, it doesn't matter. Sex has nothing to do with it. If you're good, you're good, you play.

[Mariachi Music]

There's no doubt that among the young people attending this year's Mariachi Spectacular is some great future talent. Alex De Leon is a vocalist for the Mariachi Azul y Blanco from Adamson High School in Dallas. This 17 year old has already received high praise for his vocal talents.

[Mariachi Music]

People keep giving me comments, I'm good and stuff. So now I want to get better.

Young Mariachis, like De Leon have a chance to learn from more experienced mentors like Al Sandoval, who teaches music in the Albuquerque public schools and is director of Mariachi Romántico. Sandoval says, attendance at the Mariachi Spectacular workshops has tripled since last year. Sandoval says because of its expressiveness, mariachi music is a big part of Southwest Hispanic culture.

It's the most addicting music of all. I mean Southwest, it's the most addicting music. It grows on you and once it's in your blood, you'll never get it out. It's worse than the worst habit you can ever have because I mean, you grow to love it and you can never get away from it.

[Mariachi Music]

Everything about Mariachis hearkens back to Old Mexico from the ornate charro outfits and broad brimmed hats to the instruments and the old songs. But on the final night of the Mariachi Spectacular, as the teenage musicians joined the world's most famous mariachi groups on stage for a grand finale, the tradition seemed certain to continue for a long time to come. For Latino USA, I'm Marcos Martinez in Albuquerque.

Northern New Mexico is almost another country, a place of great natural beauty where los llanos y las montañas, the plains and the mountains, have for many years kept communities isolated but also close-knit and friendly. Producer Deborah Begel recently moved to Northern New Mexico. She sent this report about one local custom.

Really, I could be going down the road and if I see a car coming, I just wave at him. It just comes out automatic. It just wave.

Let's see, here comes Vanji from the clinic and she waves. Yeah, she wiggles her fingers. Hi, how are you guys?

Seated on a turquoise wooden bench on the front porch of the old Adobe Mercantile Building in Los Ojos, New Mexico. Joanna Terrazas waves at passing friends.

There goes Mapo, he smiles and waves at everybody,

A few paces down the street. Retired Marine Elipio Mercure is standing outside Pastores feed and general store.

We're so far apart, our communities, and sometimes you don't get to see each other for two or three or four days, so when you meet each other on the road, you wave at each other and say, hi, how you doing? And it's contagious.

Loyola Archuleta, the manager of the store, explains that most Chama Valley locals practice three waves, a kind of scale of friendliness.

One is for people that you don't really know too well. You just pick up one finger and for people that you really know a little more, you pick up your whole hand. But if you really know somebody that you really, really like, you really shake your hand back and forth [laughter]. Let's see, this is going to be {unintelligible]. Let’s see, hi. See he waves and then he shakes his finger at me, that what am I doing? [Laughter].

All the history of a family, a community, a friendship are revealed in a wave.

And this is her now. She's my, she's my comadre I baptized her daughter when we're ex sister-in-laws. So she'll wave and say hi, and that's as much as it goes.

John Nichols, author of the Milagro Bean Field War, describes his return to Taos after a long trip in his book, If Mountains Die. "When I raised my hand in greeting to a car driven by a stranger", he writes "and received a salutation in return, I knew I had a arrived to a place worth trying to call home". Pedro Archuleta of Tierra Amarillo, or TA as the locals call it, couldn't agree more.

The moment you see somebody just wave at you, as you come [unintelligible]. It's a different feeling because hey, I'm home. Finally home feel better.

My husband was telling me that one time he was coming down the grotto. And we have a tradition that when we pass the grotto, we cross ourselves. And instead of making the sign of the cross, he waved to the grotto.

For Latino USA. This is Deborah Begel.

I'm Maria Hinojosa. In New York City's, East Harlem, the Puerto Rican Barrio. A neighborhood marketplace known as La Marqueta has long been a symbol of the area's economic development or lack of it. The one's thriving market is now run down and in need of renovation, but as the political climate heats up in New York City for local elections, La Marqueta is beginning to become an issue. From New York Mandalit del Barco reports.

Beuno, aqui tengo platano maduro, platano verdes. Tengo Yucca, [inaudible], agua—aguacate.

The Banana King, Jose Luis Santiago sells fruit from a stand at La Marqueta. A warehouse under the old, elevated subway tracks in the heart of El barrio, Santiago has been here for 42 years in the business he took over from his father in that time, he says he is seen many changes.

Oh! Aqui la luna han cambiado.

[Inaudible.]

Como te dije al principio que la marqueta se cayeron, caer no, no limpieza toda via ven la marca.

La Marqueta fell into disrepair over the years. He says, leaving the place dirty and neglected. Luis the Banana King's just one of eight or nine vendors left at La Marqueta, along with a couple of butchers, fabric vendor, egg seller and botanica merchants. He's watched the once thriving marketplace deteriorate before his eyes.

No hay mucho publico, muy pco lo que nadie aqui, no hay nada que buscar--

Luis the Banana King laments that nobody shops at the marketplace anymore and there's not much to shop for. It's a far cry from 1936 when it was created by Mayor Fiorello La Guardia as an indoor space to keep the push cart pedalers off the streets. What started as the Park Avenue market with Italian and Jewish merchants slowly shifted to becoming La Marqueta as Puerto Rican started flooding into East Harlem in the 1950s, there were five Marqueta buildings where there now is barely one. Butcher Alex Garcet, a Puerto Rican New Yorker remembers how La Marqueta used to be.

30 years was different, was crowded you couldn't even... We used to open at five in the morning by six o'clock was people waiting outside the N 20. The bus used to be crowded. Everything, it's nothing, was different. Everybody was concerned.

In the 1970s, tenants at La Marqueta organized to run the marketplace and later several developers took over all without success. La Marqueta became the site of building code violations and neglect as small vendors retired or moved elsewhere and there was no one left to take their place. A year and a half ago, the city finally took charge again. Through the Economic Development Corporation. [Natural sounds of neighborhood] The city is fixing the one remaining building hoping to welcome new tenants by October. There's now a task force working on choosing a new developer to boost La Marqueta to a new future. The city is committed $5 million to the project and the task force is hoping for state and federal money in addition. East Harlem City council member Adam Clayton Powell IV envisions La Marqueta as a tourist attraction and an affordable neighborhood shopping center.

I would like to see like a flea market where different vendors can have their push guards and where we can have fruits, vegetables, t-shirts, magic, trick stores that that sort of thing, and I think it can be done.

But others, including Powell's rival in the current city council election, William Del Toro wonder about the viability of such a dream becoming reality given the marketplace's history and the neighborhood's lack of buying power. Also, the wisdom of spending so much money to revive a place that might simply be outmoded.

The goal is to create 20 stalls at a cost of $2,000,000.00 Do you know what we're talking about? $100,000.00 a stall. And you know what a stall is? A couple of pieces of plasterboard and a gate that rolls down.

[Archival sound] Temperatura en la cuidad de Nueva York en los 84 grados.

Those working to revitalize La Marqueta disagree that the place is doomed. They see a future mixed east marketplace complete with food vendors, clothing stores, movie theaters, and a community space with the smells, feel, and mood of East Harlem. Across from the banana stand, Alex Garcet sells fresh meat, accepting food stamps and allowing his customers to buy food on credit. He even has a whole index card catalog filled with IOUs like many in the neighborhood, Garcet considers where he works a landmark. Not long ago, he had to lay off 11 employees from behind the meat counter, still he says he'll stay. Why do you stay?

Well, listen, the reason we stand, because we have hope. Okay? Everybody have hope and I have a hope that one day we might be able to make it and we doing it by ourself.

Until La Marqueta becomes a sensation that's promised, Alex Garcet says the vendors will continue to wait for customers to return. For Latino USA, Mandalit del Barco in New York.

For over 400 years since New Mexico was settled by Spain in the 16th century, Hispanic folk artists in that state have created wooden statues called Santos, representing figures of Catholic saints. They've also made retablos, images of the saints painted on wooden panels. The practitioners of these carving arts or santeros were exclusively men until the last 20 years or so, but today, women are some of the best-known santeros and their contribution is the focus of an exhibit at the Museum of International Folk Art in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Catalina Reyes reports.

Though documentation is hard to find, it may be that New Mexican men and women have always collaborated at Santo making just as they often do today. Helen Lucero curated the art of the Santera exhibit.

Women have said all along are the keepers of the faith in New Mexico, and so they will put up these images to decorate their homes to pray, to carry in processions, to dress, and so it makes sense that they would eventually start carving and painting them themselves.

[Natural sounds of Museum] 40 objects representing the work of 26 Santeras are on view in the small exhibit room. There's a bulto tableau of Noah's Arc by Marie Romero Cash and her tin Smith husband, complete with wooden animals, a tin arc and foot tall carvings of Noah and his wife With Hispanic features and early 20th century dress, popular saints are rendered in various media Santo Nino de Atocha, a Christ child who helps prisoners. Dona Sebastiana or La Muerte, a skeleton in a two-wheeled wooden cart who represents death and of course our Lady of Guadalupe and Indian Virgin Mary who's especially venerated throughout the Americas.

I haven't seen anything quite like this that the men have done.

We are looking at a carving by Monica Sosaya Halford, a crucified woman who looks strikingly cheerful, smiling in a bright blue and white Basque peasant dress. She's an apocryphal saint named Santa Librada. A legend says she wanted to devote herself to God, so she prayed he would make her ugly to prevent her marriage. When God granted her wish and gave her a mustache and beard. The brother's enraged father had her crucified, but he converted to Christianity as she prayed from the cross. In New Mexico, Santa Librada goes without the beard in mustache. She sent to intercede on behalf of women with troublesome husbands.

She is the only crucified woman that we know of. This is the saint that women would pray to, and I just find it real interesting that her name is Librada also, which is basically translates as liberated. She is the one who helped women before there was a women's movement.

It was during the civil rights movement of the 60s says Lucero, that Hispanic men in New Mexico began to revive the dying Spanish colonial Santero tradition. About 10 years later, women artists began to emerge from behind the dominance of men in public arenas, making saints images in such a variety of media that Lucero decided to include more than bultos and retablos in the exhibit broadening the definition of santera.

I chose to expand it to include other media as well. In other words, images of saints produced on straw applique on tin, on culture, embroidery, weaving, hide paintings, and even one woman's work, Rosa Maria Calles, whose work is all decorating ceramic face.

[Natural sounds of woodworking] What I'm doing now is the actual roughing out taking the excess wood away.

Marie Romero Cash began carving and painting saints in the seventies when she was in her mid-thirties, the daughter of two famed Santa Fe tinsmiths. She's gone on to become one of the region's most recognized Santeras. Today she's working on a favorite figure, La Senora de Guadalupe.

[Natural sounds of woodworking] After all the excess wood is gone, I'll be able to start working on the face and the hands and toning it down, and then it'll be ready for sanding and gesso and painting.

Romero Cash has traveled throughout northern New Mexico studying Santo carvings in villages like Chimayo, where people still venerate figures hundreds of years old, but she'd rather be called a wood carver than a santera, which to her mind means a holy person. She says her goal isn't religious.

Mine happens to be learning everything that I can about specific things, including the santeros and what they did and how they did it and trying to get all our traditions in one bundle and then saving them and perpetuating them.

But Helen Lucero believes that for most of the Santeras in the exhibit, honoring the spirit of tradition is connected inseparably to the life of the soul.

And I asked the women what this meant to them to be producing saints. And quite often the spiritual aspect of it was much more dominant than any I would've ever expected. If you are busy representing God, then you have a real direct link if you are a Hispanic, Catholic, new Mexican to what your work is so that these people really see themselves as a bridge almost between a holy place and a secular place.

The art of the Santera continues at the Museum of International Folk Art in Santa Fe, New Mexico until January of next year. The exhibit will then travel throughout the country for several years, starting in Dallas, Texas for Latino USA. This is Catalina Reyes in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

They live there in that mountain, in that magical mountain, and they believe that it was the abode of the gods, the good God [inaudible 00:24:38] and the bad God [inaudible 00:24:41], tonight we have been talking about family and we said back there, families understand one another. They work together, they fight together, and at times we have fought. But tonight we're together. And I wanted to comment on the fact that as I was looking around, I said, the Puerto Ricans that are being honored today are bringing the Black into the group, which is a very good thing for us to do. Sometimes we forget that that race is also part of us. I wanted to say that because sometimes you look around and you say, "well, you're the only one."

We must teach the Anglo world the meaning of cultural fusion. We must teach the Anglo world the meaning of cultural unity because we have it in our bloods and in our families. Uno saleprieto otro saleguero.

Playwright Luis Valdez is the founder of El Teatro Campesino and recognized as the father of Modern Chicano Theatre.

I stand before you as an Indio, as un Indito, to celebrate the literature of our people. I don't look cultured, I look illiterate. I have been asked as a grown man whether I can read, but that's my advantage because I'm always underestimated. People never know what I'm going to come up with. [Laughter] Así es que cuidado.

We built the pyramids because we were mathematicians and we were brain surgeons and we were poets, and my people have been in Sonora and Arizona and in Aztlan for 40,000 years. So I embrace America and I know that we've all been taught in our schools that the name came from Americo Vespucci, cartographer of the new World. That wasn't the only place that America came from. The Peruvian, Las Peruanos, Peru had a name for this place. They had a leader called Tupac Amaru, which means the feathered serpent. What did Tupac Amaru called this place? Amaruca. Amaruca.

The Mayas had a name for this place too. They called it Americua, the land of the four winds because they had a myth that here in the Americas, in Americua, the four winds came together, the four great roads, the white road, the black road, the yellow road, and the red road, and they all met at the naval of the universe, the spot that joins heaven and Earth. That is the Mayan vision, and that is my vision of our raza, of our American raza, of our Hispanity, of our American Hispanity. Asi es que, Thank you. Que viva la raza, que viva America.

Playwright and film director Luis Valdez.

Un río dos Riveras, one river two Riveras is the title of a book written by Dr. Guadalupe Rivera, a writer and historian. Dr. Rivera is the daughter of famed Mexican muralist Diego Rivera. Dr. Rivera is visiting this country, and she joins us now from Austin, Texas where an exhibition of her father's work is opening at the Mexic-Arte Museum. Welcome, Dra. Rivera.

Thank you, Maria Hinojosa. I am very pleased to meet you.

There are probably a lot of people who don't know all of the facts about your father, and they may have one question on their mind about you. And that question might be, are you the daughter of Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo?

No, no, no. My father was married several times. And I am the daughter of Diego Rivera and Lupe Marin. She was the second wife that my father had.

Dr. Rivera, there is so much known about your father. I mean, his murals inspired a whole movement across the world. I mean, he's one of Mexico's most important artistic icons, but what is the one lasting memory that you have of your father that might tell us a little bit about who he was as a human being, as a person, as a father.

He was an extraordinary person because he allow my sister and I to become professionals and to go to university and to study and to learn how Mexico is and how revolution was and to be a real Mexican because he was very proud to be a real Mexican, and he teach us how to really appreciate who we are as member of a very important cultural movement.

One of the things, Dr. Rivera, about your father was that he really wasn't into... As far as I can tell and remember just from reading about him and seeing his work, which was very political, is that he really wasn't into the commercialization of art. I mean, he was really into art for communicating, what you've said, a history of the people of Mexico. But your father's work has now sold in this country and across the world for hundreds of thousands of dollars and really has an incredible market value. How do you think he would've reacted to this what is, I guess, the commercialization of his art in the art world?

Well, I think that he was not so proud of that as he was proud about the mural painting he realize in public buildings. He never want to commercialize his art. He painted paintings, let's say this small paintings, all canvas or all things like that or watercolors because he thought that he must have a way of life when he cannot paint murals. But in a way, his enormous desire was to paint murals much than everything in life.

Your father also of course loved Mexico, his country, and he was really quite radical in his politics and extremely nationalistic. What do you think your father, Diego Rivera, would've thought of NAFTA, the tratado de libre comercio- the free trade agreement?

I think that he was not very, very happy about it.

Why?

He always talk about that the necessity that each country keep his own identity. And maybe, he will realize that with NAFTA, the identity of Mexican people is going to be lost an enormous way.

And there's an interesting turn of events right now because on this celebration of el dies y seis de septiembre, or Mexican Independence Day, the 16th of September, you will be here in the United States. Your father's paintings will be on exhibit in Texas, and Governor Ann Richards of Texas will be in Mexico during the grito there. What does all of this say about Mexico y los estados unidors, the United States at this point in time?

Personally, I think it's a paradox, but at the same time, I am very pleased to be asking to come here as a guest to this exhibition because, in a way, my father is, again, a bridge between both countries as he was before in the '30s when he was asking to come to United States to paint the murals. It was in a special moment in the Mexican history in the '30s in which it was necessary for the Mexican government to establish a stronger contact with United States. And I consider that now, it's important to Mexico, to my country to establish a stronger contact with United States again.

Dr. Guadalupe Rivera is the daughter of Mexican muralist, Diego Rivera, the exhibit Diego Rivera and the Revolution in Mexico in Times of Change will be on view at Austin's Mexic-Arte museum through December 31st.

So people always ask, "Yo, when is Hispanic Heritage Month anyway?" And then you have to tell them that it's not really just one month but a four-week period of time that starts in the middle of September when El Salvador, Peru, Nicaragua, Mexico, and several other Latin American countries celebrate their independence from Spain. The month then runs through mid-October through Columbus Day or el día de la raza, as it's known in Latin America. For many Latinos, this is a time to look back at history and to look forward to see where we as a group fit into this country's future. Commentator Barbara Renaud Gonzalez says that in particular, the 16th of September, the equivalent of the 4th of July for Mexicans makes her realize she really is part of a community.

I'm not afraid to look in their eyes, me, the zippy Latina with the import car and the University of Michigan sticker. They, my Mexican hermanos breathless in the Texas sunrise, clinging to the back of a Ford Ranger, almost ashamed that they are the only ones riding like this on the open road of the LBJ carretera. Or maybe it's too obvious that they're on their way to make another garden out of Plano Prairie for a minimum wage. I smile. I am almost ashamed to not go with them. I love my Mexican people. On September 16th, my construction heroes, Plano gardeners, North Dallas maids, my café con leche waiters and I will come together to celebrate the 16th of September, el dies y seis de septiembre, which is the anniversary of Mexico's independence from almost 300 years of Spanish conquest. On the morning of September 16th in 1810, Father Miguel Hidalgo Y Costilla delivered his grito de dolores, his cry for independence in the city of Dolores, Mexico, the city of pain, to claim independence from Spanish rule.

Our celebrated Mexican independence is not like American democracy. The Puritans were free the day they left England on the Mayflower. The Spaniards, however, transformed the America they discovered with every touch and every torment. They came to evangelize their Catholic tradition and so redeemed the Spanish crown with pure Indian gold. While the Puritans established independent colonies from the beginning, the Spaniard established dependent missions.

So, when Mexican independence rang in 1810 and Father Hidalgo exhorted his campesinos to rebellion with “Mexicanos, ¡Viva México!” He must have cried for Mestizo courage and independence from Spain and for all the battles yet to come. As Mexicans and Mexican Americans, Hispanics, Chicanos, Latinos, Pochos, and the descendants of Tejanos like me, every battle, every cry makes us braver in our marches, the people we are and will become. While Mexico's battles may be more anguished than those of the United States, this quest for the Mexican soul is still in transition and hardly defeated. Thus, every September 16th, every dies y seis de septiembre, we celebrate this realization of the Mexican self. I love my Mexican people. Original beauty on Spanish bones. Look at the hands in the ecstasy of expression, rainbows of skin on the Indian profile. We are a jeweled people. I know that the Indian gods and goddesses live among us transformed into the Mexicans I see every day, especially on September 16th, el dies y seis de septiembre. I know. I look in their eyes.

Commentator Barbara Renaud Gonzalez writes and teaches in Dallas, Texas.

[festive mariachi music]

In Mexico and Mexican American communities from Los Angeles to Chicago, the night of September 15th is the night of el grito, (singing) literally the yell or the scream, which commemorates the occasion in 1810 when a parish priest named Father Miguel Hidalgo called his countrymen to rise up against the tyranny of Spain with the cry Mexicans que viva méxico.

Viva los [unintelligible] que nos dieron patria y metal .

¡Viva!

Viva Hidalgo.

¡Viva!.

Viva Morelos.

¡Viva!

Viva Guerrero.

¡Viva!

Viva México.

¡Viva!

Viva México.

¡Viva!

Viva México.

¡Viva!

In Austin, Texas, this event was celebrated with a nighttime block party outside the Mexican consulate.

[mariachi music]

I think it shows that we still care about our culture, that it hasn't died, and I hope it never does because that means part of us dies.

It's a really very nice...Event.

And we hope that the American people can come little bit more towards our costumes and our music and our hearts also.

We came here with intention to work and lent our force, labor force, I should say. And we want to be able to also participate in the intellectual development of the Mexico and the United States. So I believe that anybody that wants to disregard our ability to group together and do things like this is kind of not paying attention what the reality of our country formed with immigrants anyway is happening.

Last year, the so-called Quincentenary, the commemoration of the 500 years since Columbus encountered this hemisphere, caused a great deal of controversy and also inspired many artists. The Columbus theme, and the stereotypical images in history and popular culture of the natives, the conqueror and the conquered, still continue to be a source of artistic inspiration. Recently, an interdisciplinary arts project curated by artists Coco Fusco and Latino USA commentator Guillermo Gomez-Pena opened at the Otis Art Gallery in Los Angeles. It's called The Year of the White Bear, and it features performance, visual arts, and radio art. Betto Arcos prepared this report.

As a visitor walks into the exhibition of The Year of the White Bear, images of the past and the present provoke a sense of humor and seriousness. With the title Mickey Meets His Match, a ceramic figure of a pre-Hispanic warrior sits next to a Mickey Mouse doll on a wall, a painting of Columbus holding a slice of pizza by Chicano artist Alfred Quiroz. Across from it, a custom of Queen Isabella designed by Puerto Rican artist Pepon Osorio and worn by one of the curators during a performance. The Year of the White Bear was conceived as a reflection on the 500 years of the so-called discovery of America, and according to one of the curators, performance artist Guillermo Gomez-Pena, the exhibition is also meant to dispute preconceived notions of what constitutes political art.

Political art is not supposed to be humorous. Political art is supposed to be solemn, didactic, somber, and I think that there is more sneaky ways to be politically effective. Now, the common goal is to begin a reflection about the Columbus question and what is after the Columbus question.

The title of the exhibition was taken from the name given to the Spaniards by the Paez Indians of Colombia. They called the Europeans, "Pale in color and covered with hair, White Bears" Gomez-Pena says that the main idea behind the installation of The Year of the White Bear is to create a multicentric, multifaceted portrait of the debates that were generated around the quincentenary and that still have not been resolved. Within this debate, a number of issues are touched on including the North American Free Trade Agreement and the current anti-immigration sentiment.

[Violin Music] Dear Spanish Inquisition, dear Border Patrol, dear American culture, for 500 years we've been invisible to you. Recordar, desandar, performar.

In a viewing room, built like an entrance to a pre-Hispanic pyramid with the Aztec calendar above in a sculpture of the Mayan god Chaac down below is an ongoing slideshow of images of past and recent history, pictures of ancient cities and peoples that dissolve into modern day events like the Gulf War and attention along the US Mexico border, with the soundtrack that provides a narrative as the audience watches and listens quietly.

San cristal [unintelligible] Un official chronicler de la pintados. And I just discovered you is therefore--

The hybrid nature of the installation is but one of the many ambiguities The Year of the White Bear instills in the senses of the visitor. From art piece to art piece one is faced with images of the past right next to current events. On a wall, a velvet painting of LA Mayor Richard Riordan holding a book like a Bible. It's title, "INS Mexico as seen through foreign eyes".

Here at the INS, we understand immigration since that's how our ancestors arrived to this land of opportunity. What we have are-

From the gallery ceiling, a voice that sounds like that of a Border Patrol agent.

Gone are the days of reasonably regulated entry that was beneficial to all. What we now have is a full scale invasion into America by the poor peoples of the world, a flood of homeless, uneducated, job-stealing criminals that is threatening our national sovereignty.

The artists and the curators of The Year of the White Bear would like visitors to come out of the exhibit with a broader sense of reflection about the relationship between the past and the present, and a consciousness about the many perspectives on the founding of the Americas. Artists Robert Sanchez, who along with Richard Lou, created In Search of Columbus and Other White Peoples says this piece is meant to call into question certain issues about history.

What is the past really about and what is the effect on current issues happening today with toda la gente. You know, how have we gotten to this point and survived and kept intact? Certain things that have to do with very strong cultural ties, but at the same time having to have battled those things that have to do with how history has been perceived by those that are in power, so to speak. The powers that be.

The exhibit continues at the Otis Gallery in Los Angeles until November 6th. For Latino USA, this is Beto Arcos. (Guitar Music)

[background music] Pancho Villa, a name out of Mexican history, the subject of corridos, a hero or a villain, depending on your perspective. Well, on November 3rd, an episode of the public television program, the American Experience takes a look at this controversial figure in American and Mexican history in a documentary called The Hunt for Pancho Villa. With us from Austin, Texas to talk about the production is the director of the Hunt for Pancho Villa, an award-winning filmmaker, Hector Galan. Welcome to Latino USA Hector.

Thank you Maria.

Hector, as we've said, the name of Pancho Villa really is familiar to so many people on both sides of the borders. Certainly to me as a Mexicana, it was seeing him all over in so many posters, este, throughout Mexico and the United States. But what inspired you and writer Paul Espinoza to develop this project, the Hunt for Pancho Villa, and to add even more information about this mystique of the character Pancho Villa?

Back in college in the seventies, it seems like, or even in our homes, we all had posters, and as you mentioned of Pancho Villa, who represented something to us as Chicanos. Some of us do understand and know a little bit of the story of his life, but to most people in America it's more of a caricature. We see a lot of the restaurants and some of that imagery, stereotypical Mexican imagery with Pancho Villa as a bandit and so forth. So that was one of our motivations to really bring this story to the American public who don't have much knowledge about who Villa was and what role he played in history. So we were just discussing this about four years ago. And we had worked on one project, Los Mineros, on the Mexican American minors coming into Arizona from Chihuahua at the turn of the century and their struggle for equality. And we said, why don't we do a story on Pancho Villa? And let's try to understand what happened in the raid when Villa raided Columbus, New Mexico. And that's really how it began. Just through a conversation.

[crickets] March 9th, 1916, Columbus, New Mexico, three miles from the US-Mexico border. [hoofbeats]

A little after midnight, they came across the border, about 600 of them, to attack the town.

[hoofbeats] [gun clicking and firing, gunfire, shouting]. Viva Pancho Villa!

Tell me, este Hector, what do you think is the most outstanding characteristic or trait that you learned about Pancho Villa throughout this process of making the film and that you think others will learn as they watch the film?

Well, that's a difficult question because Pancho Villa is a very complex character. I had my own ideas, which were those of the mythic hero, those of the Centaur of the North, if you will. But actually he had many more skills than just the romanticized ideas that I had. And that is as a statesman, as a good person and also a very complex personality where some of the witnesses that we encountered in Mexico who were with Villa, who knew Villa told us he would just turn immediately on people and could be capable of bloodshed at a moment's notice.

I think these things and their suddenness and yet their complexity is something that I learned as we were in the process of doing this film. And it's interesting too, because the witnesses that we talked to are not just the Mexican witnesses, because we did film in Chihuahua, most of the principal photography is in Chihuahua, but on the US side of the border and those people's understandings and misunderstandings of the man. We were able to track down witnesses who were there during the Columbus raid in 1916 and their concept of who the man was, and of course Americans looking at Pancho Villa would only see, especially those that were attacked, a bloodthirsty bandit, and can't get beyond that. But to the poor and the down-trodden of Mexico, he represented a hero.

Se le comparan aquel entonces como el Robin Hood…[transition to English dub] He was seen as a Mexican Robin Hood of this region, the north of Durango and the south of Chihuahua, because it was said that he helped the poor by taking from the rich [transition to original audio]…a los ricos.

[rooster] One of Villa's wives described how his early life shaped his character. He and all his people had to work like slaves from daylight to dark on the hacienda where he was born. He grew up suffering the cruel…

It must have been interesting for you and your writer, Paul Espinoza, to tackle the image of Pancho Villa. Considering that he's such an important icon in the Chicano community in the United States. Did you have some issues about that, about actually having to uncover this person who you had probably at one time admired and thought was the perfect man?

Well, that's a very interesting question, Maria, because as part of the series, we do have an executive producer, Judy Creighton, who's based in New York, and when we would show her our rough cuts, we would go there and we would view them and she would say to us that the film is very emotionally confusing because we don't know who to root for. And I think a lot of that had to do with the fact that we're Latinos, we're Chicanos, and at times we're looking at it from American perspective, and at other times we're looking at it from a Mexican historical perspective as well.

And so that was a real interesting situation for both of us, especially discovering some of the more say, negative incidents that Villa was involved with and as well as trying to balance it with some of the more negative American perspectives of Mexicans in general. Because Villa is just one person they can point at but a lot of the feelings along the border against Mexicans weren't... They had their own stereotypical negative views of Mexicans, and we know that as a story too. So as Chicanos, it was very, very interesting to go through that process. I think eventually what we came up with is a very balanced picture on both sides.

Pues muchas gracias and congratulations, felicidades, on yours and Paul Espinoza's production, The Hunt for Pancho Villa. Speaking to us from Austin, Texas, Hector Galan. The premier of The Hunt for Pancho Villa will be on November 3rd on public television stations across the country.

Gracias Maria.

Gracias.

I'm Maria Hinojosa. Since the death of farm labor leader Cesar Chavez, there's been a growing movement to name parks, streets, and libraries after the Mexican American leader. But in Fresno, California, the city council there has revoked an earlier decision to change the name of California Ventura and Kings Canyon Boulevard to honor the founder of the United Farm Workers. The decision came after a heated special session attended by over 1000 people.

Mexican American people, Scotch Irish people, Europeans, Middle Eastern people, people from Asia, people from all over the world came to this valley and built this valley, and I'm tired of hearing that Mexicans built this valley. It didn't happen that way.

The vote by Fresno City Council was four to three in favor of overriding their earlier decision regarding Cesar Chavez Boulevard. In Austin, Texas however, a similar effort has been much less controversial. In that capital city, East 1st Street was recently inaugurated as Cesar Chavez Street, with a march and other festivities.

[Background--natural sound--march] Led by a motorcycle policeman flying the red and black farm workers flag, and by a parade of low rider cars and Aztec dancers, about 1000 people marched to inaugurate Austin's new Cesar Chavez Street.

[Highlight--natural sound--march] ¡Viva la Raza! ¡Que viva!

[Background--natural sound--march] There were activists and politicians, farm workers from the Rio Grande Valley, members of the NAACP, and a very large number of young people.

[Highlight--natural sound--march] ... themselves can come and-

We're from Southwest University and-

... participate.

... and we can from San Marcos to celebrate this day. We're really proud and we really like to support this.

!Viva Cesar Chavez!

[Highlight--natural sound--crowd]

[Background--natural sound--crowd] These young students were not even born when Cesar Chavez began his efforts to organize farm workers and provide them a more humane existence in California, and here in Texas. Still, says Juana Nieto, he set an example that means a lot to young people.

We see him as a role model for us so when we grow up and we have our kids, we can teach them what we learned from him, to fight for what we want and for what we believe.

Unlike the controversy in Fresno, changing the name of Austin's 1st Street to honor the farm labor leader was a smooth process and, the vote, says City Councilman Gus Garcia, was unanimous.

It's appropriate that if any place would be the first place to have a street named after him, that it would be Austin because this is where the muscle of Latino politics is going to be flexed.

Members of Cesar Chavez's family, including his sister-in-law and the new President of the United Farm Workers Union, Arturo Rodriguez, joined the Austin inauguration.

For all of us, it shows us that we're not alone. We know that there's a lot of people that support it, the efforts of Cesar. When 50,000 people joined us in Delano, California on April 29th for Cesar's funeral, that gave us the spirit and encouraged us to continue right then on. All of these re-namings of schools, of streets, of libraries, of parks and so forth continue to give us that strength and courage, and show us and demonstrate to us that we're not alone by any means, and that there's millions of people that continue to support this movement.

[Highlight--natural sound--crowd]

This is Maria Hinojosa.