Annotations for Subject-headings: Death

The recent murder of a Roman Catholic cardinal in Guadalajara, Mexico is being linked to a gang in San Diego. Law enforcement officials say at least six members of the Calle Treinta gang were the hired killers for a Tijuana drug cartel led by the Ramon Arellano family. From San Diego, Marie Araña has more.

Cardinal Juan Jesus Posadas Ocampo and six other persons were accidentally killed when gunmen hired by a Tijuana drug cartel mistakenly opened fire on the cardinal's limousine. Law enforcement officials say that members of the Calle Treinta gang were hired by the Arellano brothers to kill a rival drug lord, Joaquin Chapo Guzman. Guzman was believed to be the target when Cardinal Posadas was shot last May 24th. For Latino USA, I'm Marie Araña in San Diego.

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]

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.

City council member Domingo Garcia of Dallas, Texas.

Cuban American activists are protesting a decision by the Mexican government not to allow a boatload of refugees from Cuba to land on Mexican shores. Protests took place in Miami and in New York. Mandalit del Barco reports.

The Cubans protesting the decision called on a total boycott of Mexican products and traveled to Mexico. The demonstration targeted the Mexican government, and the consulate here in New York, for what protestors called their roles as assassins. Cuban refugees had been sailing for 21 days, allegedly on their way to the Cayman Islands, when their boat had mechanical problems. 10 people died, including two children, and the others continued floating until they reached the waters near Cancun. On August 19th, the Mexican government ordered them to be deported back to Cuba. The Mexican consulate issued a bulletin saying the Cubans on the boat were given medical attention before being sent back. According to the consulate, the refugees never asked for political asylum. For Latino USA, I'm Mandalit del Barco in New York.

[Mexica ceremony/danza sounds: flutes, shell rattles]

In many Latin American countries, people believe that the spirits of the dead return to celebrate with the living on the first two days of November, los Días de los Muertos, the days of the dead. On those days, people visit cemeteries, march in processions, or make ofrendas or altars to their loved ones who have passed, with flowers, candies, candles, liquor and sweet bread, all of the food and drinks they loved in life. These celebrations are festive and colorful, reflecting the indigenous belief that death and life are part of the same never-ending cycle. Here in this country, el Día de los Muertos has enjoyed a resurgence in recent years, and nowhere more so than in San Francisco, where the celebration begins with a procession through the city's Mission District.

Okay. Now we like to ask everybody to please line up against the fence in order for us to start the procession.

I think this procession and the honoring of the dead should continue, because in that manner, we bring them back. El festival naturalmente es para recordar los Muertos y en esa forma viven. [Drumming, flutes, shell rattles]

It's very fun, and I'm here to honor my great-grandfather who died. [Drumming and whistling]

[Drumming and whistling] Dia de Muertos antiguamente era una celebración Azteca para celebrar los guerreros que murieron en batalla…[transition to English dub] The day of the dead was an Aztec tradition to honor warriors or hunters who died in battle or during a hunt. Today, it's the same spirit of joy, celebrating those who passed on[transition to original audio]…sostiene el mismo Espíritu de alegría y celebrar los difuntos.

Que vivan los muertos, la tradición sigue mas fuerte cada dia. [Drumming, singing]

[Clapping] The Chicano here in San Francisco, and throughout the Southwest, wants to retain their ancestral culture. They're Americans, but they're very special Americans. They're not English Americans or European Americans. I think what they want to do now is reintroduce this culture that's being lost in Mexico.

[Highlight--Natural Sounds--Live Music in Spanish]

La verdad que si es una celebración preciosa…[transition to English dub] It really is such a beautiful celebration. It's my first time here from Mexico, and I never imagined so many people. It's beautiful, right down to the dances representing the Day of the Dead. [Background singing]

[Music, horns, city streets]

So what do you think about the celebration?

I think it's a great idea. I think we should have it every day of the year. Absolutely.

Que te gusta?

The skeleton. They’re not scary for me. [Laughter] Some are funny. [Horns]

Para mi también la celebración tiene un carácter de fiesta…[transition to English dub] For me, this celebration is a very festive time. But it's also an opportune moment to protest some forms of death that should not be repeated, like torture and disappearances [transition to original audio]…por ejemplo la gente desaparecida.[Horns, drums]

[Drumming, horns and whistles]

[Crowd cheering] The Day of the Dead has entered the United States with the exodus of so many Latinos from Latin America, from Central America to this country, so that now it is unmistakably going to be an annual holiday. Eventually, I'm sure, next year, it'll start being commercialized. You'll probably see Safeway having Day of the Dead specials and Macy's even. They're going to commercialize. They're going to come into it. But right now, it's very beautiful because it's the beginning. They've always had it, but never like this.

Que vivan los muertos! [unintelligible] los muertos! Y vivan todos los muertos que se murieron por vivos! Y mueran todos los muertos que sigan siendo muertos vivos! [Applause, cheering, whistling]

The Day of the Dead is a spiritual celebration revolving around the communion between the living and the dead. In Boulder, Colorado, an art exhibit called Noche de Muertos: A Chicano Journey into a Michoacan Night celebrates the traditional roots of this cultural celebration, while making it a vital part of modern day Latino reality. From Boulder, Colorado, Betto Arcos prepared this report.

[Transition--Natural Sounds--Choir vocals]

The exhibition was conceived around the theme of a traditional cemetery, but the most powerful images are the altars and paintings that celebrate death and life, as in a large canvas painting of a cemetery at night. Standing near tombs covered with cempasúchil or marigold flowers, a man sings and plays the guitar. Artist Carlos Frésquez. [Choir vocals]

This particular painting is about life. It's about living. It's not about death. It's not about death. There's one woman, Calavera Catrina, she's dressed to celebrate. And really, that's what this is. It's a celebration. It's a magical piece. It's not a true reality. It's my reality.[Choir vocals]

Silvia...Mercedes...Alonso...Lupita [Choir vocals]

For inspiration leading to the exhibition of Noche de Muertos: Chicano Journey into a Michoacan Night, in 1991, a Chicano artist from Colorado traveled to the Mexican state of Michoacan.

We went into Michoacan with the intent of experiencing the days of the dead with the indigenous peoples of Mexico, in this case, Pátzcuaro and Tzintzuntzan, and coming back with that experience, and documenting it through Chicano interpretations of the visual arts.

George Rivera is professor of sociology at the University of Colorado in Boulder, and co-curator of Noche de Muertos: Chicano Journey into Michoacan Night.

We went there to discover ourselves through the cultural mirror of the people of Mexico as they viewed and celebrate the days of the dead. [Choir vocals]

In Noche de Muertos, the artist also paid tribute to the life and struggle of farm worker leader Cesar Chavez, who passed away last April. [Choir vocals]

And alongside the exhibit, you will see for nichos that are all tributes to Cesar Chavez, the farm workers, and Dolores Huerta. They were done by Megan Rodriguez, Tony Ortega, Aileen Lucero, and myself, as, again, the nichos with rosaries, with candles, celebrating what Cesar Chavez, Dolores Huerta and the Farm Worker Movement was all about. [Choir vocals]

The altar is shaped like an inverted pyramid, representing the eagle emblem of the Farm Workers Union, and built with empty letters boxes sent by the UFW's office in Salinas, California. [Choir vocals and whispers]

[Whispers]...Cesar...Juanita...[Whispers, voices]

Noche de Muertos also features a number of collaborative altars in memory of deceased relatives. One of them called Altar a Nuestras Abuelas includes an image of the Lady of Guadalupe, surrounded by photographs of the artist's grandmothers. Artist Sylvia Montero. [Whispers]

We just always have felt that we would not be the Chicanas we are today if it had not been for our grandmothers and their experiences in their lifetime, how things have changed. I believe that there's an evolutionary process to becoming Chicana, and I think the grandmother's a part of that evolution of how we become who we are.

Another prominent altar is dedicated to the memory of the early '50s rocker Ritchie Valens. The altar is designed as a stage, with Ritchie Valens at the center, and two little angels holding an electric guitar on top. It's the work of artists Rick Manzanares and Carlos Frésquez.

Rick Manzanares talked to his aunt and asked, what was his favorite things to do? She said, "He loved to eat, as we all do, and he liked to roller skate as a child." So we have a pair of roller skates. And what he left was his music, and that's still alive today.

For all of those involved in Noche de Muertos: Chicano Journey into a Michoacán Night, the exhibit is more than just an art show. George Rivera says, "It's a celebration and a revitalization of Chicano culture."

And so, Noche de Muertos and Día de los Muertos was important for us to go there and document in some way so that we and the generations to come will remember what our ancestors and the people who came from Mexico and migrated here to this country, how they understood and interpreted their dead, and how they respected that within the culture. [singing]

[Choir vocals]

Currently, an exhibition at the University of Colorado Art Galleries, Noche de Muertos: Chicano Journey into Michoacan Night moved to the Museo de Las Americas in Denver until December 4th. In 1995, it will travel to Amsterdam and other European cities. For Latino USA, this is Betto Arcos in Boulder, Colorado.

In the 90s, death for many in this country's Latino communities comes too early often as the result of preventable causes like gang and gun violence and AIDS. To call attention to this, some community groups are using the traditions of El Dia De Los Muertos or the Day of the Dead, a century's old ritual commemorating friends and family who've passed on as a springboard for social messages. From Austin, Texas, Latino USA's, Maria Martin prepared this report.

We have in this particular room, altars that have been built by people, members of the community. Este…

At an East Austin community center in the heart of the city's Mexican American barrio, Diana Gorham of the AIDS Outreach group in Informecida shows a visitor around an exhibit of altars created to honor those who have passed on in the tradition celebrated in Mexico and other Latin American countries. The structures are colorful with flowers and photographs, candles, ribbons, and incense. But some altars also have non-traditional decorations like condoms and anti aids messages.

This one was also built by a volunteer of Informecida who also lost her brother to AIDS in Houston, and she and her brother were very, very close.

[Natural sounds--community center] The altar exhibit in Austin isn't the only effort linking the traditional Mexican holiday to the reality of a growing cause of death in the Latino community where AIDS is now the leading killer of young Hispanic men, and the third leading cause of death among Latinas ages 25 to 44.

[Natural sounds--pop music performance] San Antonio artist David Zamora Casas does a performance piece for El Dia de Los Muertos called Cuentos de la Realidad or Tales of Reality, which tells of the painful death from AIDS of his friend Jesse.

[Singing] It’s time for the angels to take you away to a different place. Another time…

[Natural sounds--pop music performance] In the piece, Zamora Casas tries to make a connection between his loss to AIDS and all of the other losses, individual and collective, which may have been suffered by those in the audience.

I try to use things that bring people down to a very fundamental basic level and relate it to situations that I've encountered dealing with homophobia within a family that Chicano son has AIDS and these families don't know how to react because of all the machismo and stereotypes and all the baggage that we've carried on from our childhood. We've got to nurture and educate each other.

The traditions associated with the Dia de Los Muertos. According to AIDS educator, Diana Gorham provide an opportune forum in which to bring up difficult issues, ones often veiled in secrecy and denial.

There are mothers, for example, who go to the priest and say, "Please don't let any of the community know that this is what's killing my son or that's what my son died of." And so what we try to do in this particular event is to break that silence.

[Natural sounds--guitar playing] Good morning and welcome the Culture Warriors presents Dia de Los Muertos, the Day of the Dead…

In a warehouse, housing an alternative high school called the Creative Rapid Learning Center, a diverse group of young people, white, Black, and Latino, all wearing Dia de Los Muertos t-shirts perform a series of skits which come from their own experiences with death and loss of family and friends.

Hey, Uncle Paul. I wonder where you are right now. I miss you. There are so many things that I wanted to learn from you. I've changed a lot since you left.

The kids who make up this theater group call themselves the Cultural Warriors. Many of them had dropped out of school before coming to the Creative Rapid Learning Center. As part of a writing project two years ago, they were asked to write letters to deceased friends and family members as a way to complete unfinished business. Cast member John Gonzalez says that project, which eventually led to a whole series of skits dealing with a range of issues affecting young people from AIDS to drugs to racism, has helped him to cope with the pain of loss.

Well, it helps us out bringing that stuff out in the open instead of just keeping it inside. You heard when they're in the picnic scene, they're saying about this guy that had died in a car crash. That was my friend.

Hey, what's up?

What's up, homes?

What you been up to?

Oh man. Just been lying around.

See you lost a little bit of weight, huh?

Yeah, man. Can't get nothing to stick to the bones around here, man.

[Natural sounds--acting performance] In this scene, a group of the kids visit the cemetery on the night of Dia de Los Muertos as is the tradition in Mexico. The kids say these presentations allow them to look at both life and death in a more positive way.

Metropolitan America or Cosmopolitan America does not like to talk about death. It's something you whisper about, you don't talk about it. And we're the kind people we like to put things bluntly.

Passion Fields is 19 years old and an energetic member of the Cultural Warriors.

But that's what we want to put everything forward and we thought that bringing the culture thing over with not too many people, even Hispanic know about Dia de Los Muertos, Day of the Dead. [Laughter] We thought that it was important that we bring this so everybody can know about it. Now there's white kids that know about it. There's Hispanic kids that know about it. There's Black kids that know about it, and that's what we think is important.

[Natural sounds--acting performance] And so an ages old traditional commemoration for the dead has become a relevant way to look at issues facing the living.

On this holiday of Dia de Los Muertos, we celebrate the Mexican folk tradition. For as we are born, we shall die. Life is temporary, so live it with honor, dignity, hope, and courage. Live it like a culture warrior.

[Natural sounds--applause] For Latino USA in Austin, Texas, I'm Maria Martin.

[Background--Music--Hip-hop] Friday night I was hanging with my boys. We were chilling at this guy, Chino's house, drinking forties while he took care of his kid. I hadn't hung out in a while, so I didn't mind babysitting. But the rest of the guys seem restless. When I finally asked what was up, they told me that they were expecting a delivery of skis, also known as cocaine.

John Guardo, who came to New York City from Colombia when he was 12 years old, just turned 21. But for most of his teenage life, he was a member of a crew. Crews are what gangs are called in New York City. Now, while Guardo is trying to leave that life behind, he sees many of his friends staying behind.

It's hard for me to admit how much drugs have become a part of my life, but they have, and in a big way. The lyrics and the music I hear speak of drugs as a way to become popular or even rich. That idea is reinforced by how drugs are glamorized in the movies. Bad guys living large, selling cocaine with women around them and money to burn. As a little kid, I fantasized about someday living like them. Walking home from school, I saw that crime did pay. Just like in the movies, the neighborhood dealers had cars, girls, money and respect. Things I wanted.

Time passed by though, and a pattern became visible. I watched yesterday's big shot dealers become today's victim. Whether they got shot or went to jail, it was always constant. I saw those who came around to buy drugs deteriorate, transforming from regular people to beggars and criminals with each purchase.

And then I realized everybody was a victim, that it wasn't worth it because even if you ain't got nothing to do with drugs, you can still be mugged by a crack head or catch a bullet from a dealer's gun. No one will ever really be safe unless this problem is solved. Until then, the only protection there is is to be educated. People let us sell or do drugs because they don't realize what harm they're inflicting on themselves or others. Not knowing leaves a void for curiosity to fill.

Anyway, that Friday, as my friends got high, I chose to ignore what they were doing, numbing myself to their actions. I felt compelled to talk to them, but was afraid they'd start dissing me. Feeling out of a place, I went home, got to bed, and fell asleep with a bad feeling.

The next day I woke up to a phone call. One of the guys I was with the night before had OD'ed on cocaine and died of a heart attack. He was 21 years old and also my friend. I'm John Guardo, speaking for the street.