Puerto Rican Obituary

Juan

Miguel

Milagros

Olga

Manuel

The Masses Are Asses

Pedro Pietri's The Masses Are Asses is both disturbing and hilarious. A couple living in a slum building (ex-hallway toilet) in the South Bronx are pretending to be on vacation in Europe, dining at a fine restaurant (La Plume de Ma Tante). During the short play, the man and woman argue, emulate the rich and poor (including speech patterns, slang, vacuous conservation, and ersatz ostentatious display of wealth), and do nothing as a series of crimes and a fire seemingly threatens to engulf their building. It's somewhat difficult to truly describe this bizarre play and its bitter satire, but it certainly does suggest that the masses are indeed asses. The main couple, whose voices are described as being the same as the various residents, criminals, and delinquents in the building, suggests that the main characters are part of an entire problematic worldview of the lumpenproletariat. 

Not only are they pretending to be rich, but there is a breakdown of social solidarity as they do nothing to assist victims of violent robberies, rape, and disasters. They have internalized the dominant ideology's view of the urban underclass that there is really no escape from the South Bronx. Perhaps Pietri wrote this as a response to the failure of the militancy of the Young Lords, Black Panthers, and other revolutionary groups to enact change. Of course, the cultural conservatism and consumerism of the 1980s, with the urban poor embracing much of neoliberalization openly or indirectly, perhaps also explains why Pietri's play suggests such a rather low opinion of the masses, both rich and poor. The righteous anger of Puerto Rican Obituary remains palpable in this play, but it's subtle and hidden beneath a rather dismal view of the masses, or mass. Cynicism appears to have infiltrated Pietri's work by the 1980s.

As a wild tangent, reading this brings to mind Ortega y Gassett's influence on Pedreira's classic study of Puerto Rican character. Although it would be difficult to argue for such an influence on The Masses Are Asses, perhaps it indirectly shapes the work as the revolt of the masses (through the lower classes and the pseudo-aristocracy) has succeeded in creating stagnant slums where the masses languish under the almighty dollar. Perhaps there is still lingering hope, as the "terrorists" described in the play continue their activities, disrupting the routine of the masses, but it seems unlikely. Regardless, one finds it hard to believe Pietri would ever go as far as Pedreira's classist views, but it would be interesting to explore this theme through his other works.

Puerto Rican Obituary

This classic poem by Pedro Pietri holds up very well as an expression of "Nuyorican" literature and the New York City of its era. In light of the importance of Colon and Vega's earlier works in understanding the working-class and impoverished conditions of Puerto Rican migrants in the American metropolis, Pietri captures that oppressive experience brilliantly with the postwar generation. New York comes horrifically to life in the poems of Pietri, whose justifiable rage against the Vietnam War, the exploitation of workers, easy credit rip-offs, public housing projects and US imperialism demand the reader's attention. It is indeed a long, non-profit ride from Spanish Harlem to Long Island cemetery. 

A Puerto Rican in New York and Other Sketches

Although I must confess a great ignorance of Puerto Rican and Latinx literature, Jesus Colon's A Puerto Rican in New York and Other Sketches is an excellent collection of vignettes of Puerto Rican life in the American metropolis. A pioneer in English Puerto Rican migrant literature, Colon was also of African descent. Hence, my reason for reading his experiences in New York were related to my larger interests in Afro-Caribbean radicals of the first half of the 20th century. Winston James, for instance, includes Jesus Colon in a chapter on "Afro-Hispanic" radicals in his magisterial Holding Aloft the Banner of Ethiopia: Caribbean Radicalism in Early Twentieth Century America, but sets up a potentially problematic dichotomy between Colon and Arturo Schomburg. 

Colon, according to James, was mainly interested in class, Puerto Rican, and Latin American struggles, which is no surprise considering Colon's early contact with socialists and Communists. Schomburg, on the other hand, is depicted as black nationalist and the anomaly, at least in terms of the political inclinations of Puerto Ricans of African descent. Colon, supposedly, represented a more typical experience for Puerto Ricans engaged in radical politics and the Communist Party of the interwar years. Any overt black nationalist politics is supposedly an aberration for Puerto Ricans in New York. However, this dichotomy implies race consciousness must lead to a form of black nationalist or "race first" politics.

Nonetheless, when one peruses the pages of A Puerto Rican in New York, one cannot escape the constant references to racialization, anti-black discrimination, and the interplay between race and class. While Colon did not allude to Garvey or black nationalist politics, his roots among the artisans and working-class of Cayey and San Juan, which would have been comprised mainly of African-descended people, likely indicates a more nuanced view of the tangled relationship between race and class. A Puerto Rican in New York is definitely proletarian literature, identifying the Puerto Rican experience in New York entirely with anti-imperialism, working-class cultures, ghettoization, and the larger proletarian world of New York. And this proletarian world included Vito Marcantonio's Puerto Rican supporters, Jewish radicals, Panamanian West Indian workers, African Americans, and Latin musicians.

Experiences with reading in bed or the bathtub, leftist camp groups, strikes, monolingual Spanish-speaking Puerto Ricans getting lost in the city, and more abound in the book. And while African-Americans and West Indians are clearly distinct from Puerto Ricans, I don't think James was entirely fair to Colon and his growing racial consciousness as an "Afro-Latino." The mainly black and mulatto workers, artisans, tabaqueros and working-class Puerto Ricans of Brooklyn were certainly aware of their commonalities with African-Americans and West Indians, but those rooted in the early Puerto Rican labor movement, like Colon, would have, not surprisingly, been attracted to the socialists and Communists. Others, like Schomburg or M.A. Figueroa, turned to Garvey and the UNIA. Colon himself was involved with the NAACP and civil rights campaigns. His penetrating "Little Things are Big" make it demonstrably clear that he knew he was black. Yet, like the Anglophone West Indians, Colon remained firmly attached to his colonized homeland, Puerto Rico. Black and Latino, Afro-descendant and Latin American. ANd clearly he saw US rule, plus the centuries of Spanish colonialism, as part of the ongoing oppression of Afro-Puerto Ricans in the island and New York. 

Race and Puerto Rican Migrants in the Interwar Years

Interesting lecture by Peter Carlo Becerra on race and the experience of Puerto Rican migrants in New York during the interwar years. I came across this from the Transnational Hispaniola Facebook page, a useful site for news and scholarship on Haiti and the Dominican Republic.

Sounding Salsa: Performing Latin Music in New York City

An interesting lecture on the problems facing salsa musicians in New York nowadays, personal anecdotes, and the broader cultural context of salsa. Washburne discusses women musicians (La India), Hector Lavoe, drugs, the former underground economy that supported salsa (now erased as illegal after-hours clubs were targeted), etc. Although not a Puerto Rican or Latino musician himself, Washburne played with salsa bands himself and has an insider perspective to salsa musician life in New York City.

El Malo

Classic salsa...

Joe Bataan's So Fine

 

Though my favorite song by Joe Bataan remains "Gypsy Woman," sampled by The Fugees, "So Fine," which sounds very similar, also shows off his vocal chops and Latino soul de Nueva York. The only flaw is the lack of extended group improvisation, which could've incorporated more jazz-like piano riffing and percussion. Oh well, the song remains beautiful and Bataan's voice is quite smooth. "Now that you have taken all the love I can give, you're still not satisfied, you don't want me to live." As someone with a recent interest in Afro-Asian studies and encounters, the life and music of someone of African and Filipino descent such as Bataan, who socialized with Spanish Harlem Nuyoricans and Latinos, illustrates a case of Afro-Asian-Latino interactions and musical exchange. Beautiful! "Day by day, my life falls apart, beyond repair is my broken heart. Set me free, don't make a fool of me. You're driving me right out of my mind."

Curtis Mayfield's Gypsy Woman

Originally recorded by The Impressions in 1961, "Gypsy Woman" reached number 2 on the R&B charts. Composed by Mayfield at the age of 14, the lead singer and guitarist of the Chicago vocal group, "Gypsy Woman" has a "Spanish flair" or influence and lyrics that pertain to a dark-haired woman with hypnotizing eyes. As a "Gypsy" this particular woman travels in a caravan and never stays in one place, thereby making this song one of unrequited love. They even use castanets to emphasize the Spanish theme. Listen to the original recording here!

Curtis Mayfield also recorded the song on a live album at the Bitter End in New York City in the early 1970s. By this time, Curtis had embraced funk and this version sounds nothing like the original recording with The Impressions. Without castanets, replaced by the funky congas and rhythms, the song loses the Spanish tinge but Mayfield of course shines as the vocalist. Indeed, I may even prefer this version over the original because of the funky percussion and Mayfield's smooth voice. Everyone has to love Curtis, especially with the great percussion backing him up.

Joe Bataan, an Afro-Filippino Latin soul singer from New York, recorded his own unique version of the tune with different lyrics. In fact, the song, recorded in 1968, is very different from Mayfield's versions. When I first heard the song, I recognized it immediately from a Fugees track from their classic, The Score. Bataan was also part of the boogaloo phase in Nuyorican music and, though a good singer and adept at fusing Puerto-Rican and Afro-Cuban rhythms with R&B, nevertheless faded from popularity with the death of the boogaloo craze in the late 1960s. Nevertheless, this version is great, especially the brass and the unforgettable handclaps at the end of the song. Listen. Bataan has some other great cuts as well, check out "Subway Joe" here. Unfortunately, Joe is not anywhere close to being as strong of a vocalist as Curtis Mayfield, but his version is far more danceable.

The Uniques, a Jamaican rocksteady group, recorded a cover in 1967 that is also radically different from the original. The vocals are more closely following the vocal group format and melody of the original, but we get that Jamaican riddim, bwoy. The harmonization here is just a pleasant treat for one's ears, even though the rocksteady beat deviates so much from the castanets. Definitely worth a listen to see how influential The Impressions were in the formation of Jamaican rocksteady and reggae music, since everyone else also recorded covers of great songs by Mayfield, Motown artists, and many other African-American soul artists. Here!

Major Lance also recorded a cover of the song that retains the Spanish-sounding percussion and theme with the string section, also differs in the guitarist's more funky sound. Nevertheless, a nice cover though Major Lance, like Bataan, lacks the ethereal voice of Mayfield. Check it out to hear a song, that in my ears, sounds like the meeting place between the original 1961 recording and Curtis's live recording from 1971. Interestingly, Major Lance went to the same high school as Curtis and lived in the Cabrini-Greens projects, he recorded other songs by Curtis Mayfield such as this. If you listen closely, you can detect the hand of Mayfield since "Um Um Um Um Um Um" sounds very similar to other songs penned by Mayfield. Don't forget to check out "Monkey Time" and "Hey Little Girl." And "Rhythm" which is a Curtis Mayfield song with a Latin beat!

Bobby Womack also recorded a cover of "Gypsy Woman." He is a great singer and has a broad range and emotional depth, making him closer to Curtis Mayfield as a strong singer. The keyboard accompaniment is not ideal, but it's interesting to hear "Gypsy Woman" as a 1980s R&B song.

Pete Rodriguez's I Like It Like That

A very catchy number. As a friend of mine once said, "This is a toe-stomping number!" A boogaloo hit by a Puerto-Rican New York group.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CIJfdVPACyw

Piri Thomas's Down These Mean Streets

It was....interesting. Piri Thomas's account of his own life living as a dark-skinned Puerto Rican living in Spanish Harlem actually reminded me of Malcolm X's Autobiography. The language used in the book is very simple, and loaded with Spanish Harlem slang and a very simple vocabulary, which at times made Thomas hard to decipher. Still, I am willing to overlook that because the story of his life, from ghetto child to ex-convict reveal the full extent of racial discrimination within Latino communities as well as their relation to African and white Americans. Indeed, I was surprised by how the Puerto Rican self-image resembles that of Dominicans, with many of African descent preferring to identify as indigenous, Taino-descended rather than identify with blacks.

Anywho, the book was most interesting when Thomas is in prison after committing armed burglaries and shooting a 'paddy' cop. Piri, like Malcolm X, expands his knowledge and vocabulary in prison by reading the dictionary, and even converts to the Nation of Islam's brand of the religion while in prison. Who would've thought Puerto Ricans converted to the Nation of Islam?