Between working her daytime radio shows. Chela was also asked to sing in various theaters and nightclubs in the city. Construction began on the Palacio de Bellas Artes in October 1904, and its inauguration was in 1934. Located in the center of Mexico City near the Alameda Park, it quickly began hosting all forms of performing arts events, as well as literary and visual arts exhibitions. On September 12th, 1939, Chela Campos was asked to sing there at the 115th anniversary of the annexation of the State of Chiapas to Mexico, an event presided over by President Lázaro Cárdenas. Chela sang the song ‘Perfidia,’ written by Alberto Dominguez B., who accompanied her on the piano during the performance.

Chela performed at Bellas Artes again on February 2nd, 1942, singing ‘Mujer’ by Augustin Lara, played by the Juan S. Garrido Orchestra. This was to commemorate the 9th anniversary of the Railroad Operators’/Workers’ Union. Coincidentally, years later, her stepbrother, Flabio Campos Santana, also sang there as a tenor in several opera productions.

On December 25th, 1939, she performed at the Arena Monterrey Theater in Nuevo León. Also appearing that day were singing group Los Plateados, the dancers Pepe & Carola, Genaro Salinas, and Argentinian trio ‘Sherlock Holmes’ to name a few. She also performed in Mexico City at the Teatro Follies Bergere in February and May 1942, at shows which also featured Pedro Vargas, Trio Tariacuri, Hermanas Aguilar, Bob Brawley, Raúl Antonio Martínez and Spanish Flamenco dancer Conchita Martínez with her guitarist Pepe Badajoz. Cantinflas appeared as well doing a comedy sketch. These shows were somewhat like Vaudeville theater shows in the USA.

On March 5th, 1942, Chela appeared at the Teatro Lírico with a group of other entertainers, and the follow month she sang at the Teatro Bucareli, where they had radio artists singing before the movie started and during the intermission—artists like Mapy Cortés, Pedro Vargas, las Hermanas Aguilar and Fernando Fernández, the same man who got Chela her private audition at the XEW radio station.

Chela also performed at many other movie theaters, such as the Teatro Alameda and the Teatro Palacio Chino, throughout the 1940s, whenever she wasn’t traveling. She was a firm believer that she needed to perfect her performances, and that the only way to do this was by accepting every opportunity that arose.

In January 1941 she became a headliner at ‘El Patio,’ a famed elite nightclub-restaurant in Mexico City. Decorated to look like a Spanish hacienda, it had stuccoed walls decorated with flowers, tiled roofs over little balconies with tables, and more tables arranged around the dance floor and stage. It was the most popular nightclub in the city for American tourists.

As part of her contract she was required to sit with the patrons and make pleasant conversation. She confided in me that this was the only part of the job she didn’t like. The floor manager chose which tables she had to visit, and most of the time it was pleasant because they were couples for a night out. However, things could get a little uncomfortable when she was asked to visit with men. They often got too personal, wanting to know about her love life and asking her out on dates. She never dated any of the nightclub patrons, but did tell me about one boyfriend, who was a well known Venezuelan baseball player. When she learned that he was already married, she dropped him. She told me that she then became married to her career, which was a lot easier on her heart. Chela did not let anything get her down for long and had a very positive attitude about life; she never lost her love of performing.

She began recording records exclusively with RCA Victor as early as 1939; many of her records became the label’s best sellers month after month. One day, at a party at her friend’s house, Consuelo Velázquez, played her new song ‘Bésame Mucho.’ Although singer Emilio Tuero recorded it in 1941, Aunt Chela took the song to Cuba with her, where it became an important part of her repertoire.

She received many tributes in the entertainment newspapers: Claridades on August 25th, 1940, declared her as the best singer on the radio. By 1941 she was recognized as the number one star of Mexican radio. This was not only because she had a beautiful voice, but also because she was a genuinely warm and humble person. She always made her audience feel like they were the most important thing in her life. Stopping to give autographs was never a problem, and people mobbed her at the doors of XEW radio station.

The years went by and musical tastes changed. Chela used to say that Rock and Roll killed Bolero.  I first saw her perform in 1973 at the Teatro Blanquita, with Lucho Navarro, María Luisa Landín and many others as part of the show. It was the first time I saw her perform and it was remarkable. The audience was really listening to her and she looked so happy. Her presence filled the huge stage; she drew us in with her smile and her beautiful voice. She spoke to us between songs giving the audience an introduction to what she was about to sing. She continued to sing regularly at many nightclubs and theaters into the early 1980s.

She tried to invest in different businesses in order to have a steady income. A friend of hers thought of opening a Mexican Restaurant in Los Angeles in the 1960s. When she asked her stepsister Carmela (my mother-in-law) to come along to do the cooking, she agreed. After completing all the requirements to get her a work visa and a student visa for her son (my husband), Carmela decided to stay in Mexico City and get married, and the restaurant investment fell through.

Chela tried to invest her savings in several other businesses in Mexico because, not having a husband, she felt she needed to do this to secure a future when she was no longer able to sing. However, she soon discovered that her siblings didn’t want to do all the work required to make them successful. After a few failed attempts, Chela declined further requests, knowing that she could not afford to waste away her savings. She sold her beautiful home in Polanco, dispensed with the chauffeur and maids, and bought a condo and an automatic car and became self-sufficient. She had a person come in to clean once a week, but did everything else herself. In the 1970s, Bolero songs became popular again, and Chela began to sing in the “Golden Age” television shows she was invited to. She also continued to receive some royalty money from her songs and records.

When I married her nephew in 1971, she would come over to our apartment twice a week: first, to take me to the market and teach me how to cook something, and again later that week for me to cook for her. She said it was because her nephew had to eat, but we both knew I couldn’t cook! We would have music playing and she would begin to sing along at the drop of a hat. One time, she put a record on and proceeded to show me how she could change her voice to sound just like Dionne Warwick—it was wonderful. Her voice filled the small apartment and it was so loud without any need for a microphone. 

Twice a month she would take me to see the new movie releases at “Estudios Churubusco.” She would laugh as she warned me that we probably be watching a B movie, or ‘churro’ as she called them. Afterwards, she would always give her critique to the studio people that were in attendance. They always showed her the utmost respect, and it was really amazing to see her turn on the artist personality. Her friend Grace Navarro would stay with her a few months a year and they became as close as sisters. They forged their friendship when Aunt Grace’s good friend, Sergio Orta, a Cuban Entertainment Director for the Tropicana Cabaret, asked her to help a new young artist, Aunt Chela, while she was performing in Cuba. Grace had Chela stay at her mansion overlooking the water in Miramar, Cuba. Their nights were filled with song and dance, and they slept in late and woke up to Aunt Grace’s pet capuchin monkey jumping on her head!

When Chela died, her stepsisters went through everything in her house looking for her jewelry and money. Per Aunt Chela’s request, Aunt Grace moved the limited valuables to a safe place at a close friend’s house. The step-siblings then had Aunt Grace arrested, but, thanks to friends in high places, Grace was released without a problem and left the country. The step-siblings boxed up all of her possessions and raffled them off between themselves; they did nothing to preserve the memory of Chela Campos. Because Aunt Chela died without a will, there was nothing we could do to remedy this.

Years later, Aunt Grace came to live close to me. She told me wonderful stories about Aunt Chela. There are very few articles about her circulating on the internet, but I hope to remedy this and am currently working on a book about her, as I promised Aunt Grace I would do. Aunt Chela and Aunt Grace are both embedded in my heart forever.

• Part One: Our Aunt Chela: international singer Chela Campos, aka The Lady with the Crystal Cane
• Part Two: Our Aunt Chela: Chela Campos – Radio Days

The post Our Aunt Chela part 3: Chela Campos – Nightclub and theater singer appeared first on MexConnect.

In 1937, Celia Campos decided to try her luck at the XEQ radio station Amateur Hour talent contest. She would sing at parties for her family and friends. They would always tell her to try out for those amateur programs.

Before you actually sang in the program, you had to go to the station on a Tuesday to audition by performing your talent. In her case, she sang with their band. She explained to me that they did this three times and she was so nervous the first time that her friends gave her a cognac to relax, but it just burned her throat and she didn’t make the cut. Another time they gave her a tranquilizer, which made her sleepy, so she went home. It was 1939, when she was 16, that she eventually made it all the way to the actual show by shear willpower.

The show aired every Thursday from 8.00 to 9.00pm and the audience would clap to vote who should win. If they did not clap for you, a masked man rang a bell and kicked you off the stage. Chela received a standing ovation, and was allowed to continue on as everyone else performed. After it was over, she lost the contest to a man who imitated animal sounds! Only first place received a prize of $4,000.00 pesos and a contract to perform on the radio.

She was ready to leave when she was called aside. An XEW ‘crooner,’ Mr. Fernando Fernández, heard her voice that day and asked owner Emilio Azcárraga to give her a proper audition. He found her voice to be exceptional and gave her a contract on the spot to sing at XEW. She had a natural voice and never had a lesson. According to author Pável Granados, in his book XEW 70 años en el aire, over 7000 people auditioned for this Talent Show over the years, but only about 80 of them ever reached the final stages and went on stage to perform live at the Alameda Theater.

Chela Campos became the most listened-to voice of the 1940s, and she was one of the even smaller percentage of singers that became famous. She made the song ‘Bésame Mucho‘ famous and was the first person to record it. She was a close friend of its composer, Consuelo Velázquez. Chela also became famous for singing ‘Perfidia’ and ‘Frenesí’.

She was so hungry to perform and learn the ropes that she would sing at any radio station that asked her. She sang on XEFO, XEW & XEWW to name a few, but XEW was always her primary station. She was named by the trade magazines the ‘Best new talent’ of 1941. But, sometime in 1941 or 1942 (Aunt Chela never gave us exact dates), the XEW fired her for signing a union petition to strike. XEW was a member of AMER (Asociación Mexicana de Estaciones Radiodifusoras), and Chela found herself literally boycotted from all radio performances, whether at XEW or any other AMER-affiliated radio station. The petition she signed had been presented to her by a co-worker, but Chela had not read it thoroughly and, per her words to me, signed it to show her solidarity to the group.

She was terribly missed by the public, and numerous newspaper articles called on the executives at XEW to bring her back. Many asked, ‘How can XEW showcase so many foreign singers when our own Chela Campos has been removed from the radio?’ Chela did eventually return to XEW and performed there for many years, well into the late 1950s. She was such a regular at the station, and so well loved by the public, that she was asked to contribute her signature to be cast in bronze and permanently inserted in the marble flooring of the building. To this day her signature is there, alongside those of her fellow singers and performers.

In 1942 she made her first movie, when the director Indio Fernandez cast her to appear in La isla de la pasíon, in which she played a secondary role, as ‘Coquito;’ her name appears on the movie posters. The film was shot in Acapulco and released on August 6th, 1942. (If anyone has a copy of this movie, or can find it on the internet, please let us know!) Chela also had a cameo role that year in Virgen de medianoche, as a nightclub singer.

In 1944, Chela had a role in Imprudencia, before being directed by Fernando de Puentes in her next movie—La mujer sin alma—in a supporting role to Mária Félix. Chela was a nightclub singer in Toros, Amor y Gloria (1944), where she appeared alongside Sara Garcia and Maria Antonieta Pons, and in El hombre sin rostro (1950). Chela was the singing voice for many actresses in other films, but never listed in the final credits.

The public enjoyed these movies, and in her last movie—Del rancho a la televisión—Chela shared a starring role with Luis Aguilar and María Victoria. This movie, released in 1953, was directed by Ismael Rodríguez and they brought to film the story of how Luis Aguilar became famous at XEW via the Talent Show Contest. The film mirrored Chela’s experiences in that it showed Luis Aguilar losing the contest to a man who made animal sounds! In the movie, Chela winds up with Luis Aguilar as her love interest. She told me that he apologized right before the last scene, in which they shared a passionate kiss. He was afraid that his bad breath due to excessive smoking would offend her; she told me that she was far from offended, because he proved to be a very good kisser! 

This would turn out to be her last movie. She described to me how the director had tried to accost her in his limo and became furious when she turned him down. He had offered to take her to her home in Polanco. But, when this happened, she bolted out of the car at a red light on Avenida Insurgentes, and began to walk until she found a taxi. It was around 2.00am. Her refusal of the proverbial ‘casting couch’ scenario meant that she was never asked to be in another movie. 

Career-wise, this was not a problem because she still was very well received on the radio, and began doing tours, making appearances all around the country. She worked at numerous Carnivals in Veracruz and many Charreadas (displays of horsemanship, akin to a rodeo) in Guadalajara and all over Northern Mexico. It was during this time that she also traveled internationally, to Cuba, Venezuela and the USA.

The next and final installment of “Our Aunt Chela,” will focus on her memorable and much-loved appearances in Mexico City nightclubs.

• Part One: Our Aunt Chela: international singer Chela Campos, aka The Lady with the Crystal Cane
• Part Three: Our Aunt Chela: Chela Campos – Nightclub and theater singer

The post Our Aunt Chela part 2: Chela Campos – Radio Days appeared first on MexConnect.

My husband’s Aunt Chela was a famous singer, who performed internationally. Fifteen years ago, I decided to write a book about Aunt Chela’s life for our family. I searched the internet for information on her appearances in Los Angeles, Mexico, Venezuela, Cuba, etc. but found nothing. Wikipedia had only one paragraph of the most basic, and mostly incorrect, information. Therefore, I became absolutely determined to write her story for all of the family, and also for posterity.

She deserves to be remembered. To say she was a talented singer is true. But she was so much more than that. I will start from the beginning of her artistic life, with glimpses into her childhood when they are pertinent to the story. My book will be based on our first hand knowledge of her life from our direct contact with her, and on her scrap book with newspaper clippings, and photo albums. When writing of her direct family, I will not always use their real names as most of the information about her dealings with them is not very flattering.

I first met Chela Campos when I was ten years old. It was in Mexico City, called the D.F. in those days, in the Colonia Narvarte on Calle Esperanza. We lived there for a year in 1965, and I became friends with the little girl next door. One day, her Aunt Chela came to visit while I was there, and I was simply awestruck: she was so elegant and beautiful. I was introduced to her as the ‘amiga gringa’ next door; the funny thing is that she came with her lifelong friend Grace Navarro, who was also a ‘gringa’, born in Worcester, Massachusetts. Grace came from a rich Cuban family in Havana, Cuba; Fidel Castro had actually seized their mansion and given it to a general. The stories of their experiences in Cuba are wonderful, but best saved for another article.

I kept in contact with Chela’s family and, years later, I married her favorite nephew. When my husband was young, he stayed with Aunt Chela at her Polanco home on Calle Goldsmith whenever she was home from tour. He was there for parties with Cantinflas, Luis Aguilar, Consuelo Velásquez and many others. He had a very close relationship with her; at one point she even wanted to adopt him, but his mother said no. After we were married, she would visit me once a week in our apartment on Avenida Niño Perdido. We would go grocery shopping, and she taught me how to cook at the unforgiving altitude of Mexico City. I needed a lot of help. Sometimes, we would go to director screenings of new movies at the ‘ANDA’ studios. So many stories….

Aunt Chela’s heritage, childhood accident and crystal cane

Celia Campos Diaz was born in Mexico City on October 6th, 1922. Her father was Francisco Campos Jiménez and her mother was Guadalupe Díaz.

Her father came from a long line of foundrymen, but was an artist really, drawing designs in sand and then casting them in bronze. During his lifetime he made many of the statues on Avenida Reforma, some of the hardware (statues, elaborate door knobs, handrails, lamps, etc.) in Palacio de Bellas Artes, and most of the hardware in the Teatro Chino. His family arrived in the State of Hidalgo from Palencia, Spain, in the mid-1800s. Celia’s great-grandfather was a foundryman who had been hired by an English firm to work on the Mexican railroad.

Celia never knew her mother and was told that she had died when she was a baby. She told me that her father would become very sad and couldn’t speak of it. When she was a toddler, her father married Dolores Santana, and Celia would eventually have 7 stepbrothers and sisters. She was called Chela by her father and family from an early age; perhaps it was a nickname given to her by her mother?

Chela was very much a tomboy and enjoyed playing in the city streets. She told me the story of how she broke her leg. She would hang off the backs of the trolley cars with her friends and ride all around the city. When she was around 9 years old she fell off the back of one and smashed the growth plate in her left hip and femur. She was hospitalized and placed in traction. She spoke of it as being in a large room with many beds and the pain was agonizing.

The doctors advised surgery to insert a plate and screws, but explained to her father and stepmother that not only would this hinder the leg’s growth, but it would also permanently fuse the joint. Her stepmother refused the surgery, saying that was a horrible option. Chela said she was always grateful to her stepmother for that decision, because her left leg was only two inches shorter than the right, though life became difficult for her after this. In her own words, she became Cinderella with the wicked stepmother. It was so bad that it prompted her father to send her to live with his sister and her Aunt Laura, where she was loved and allowed to live a normal childhood.

For years she would use a plain wooden crutch to get around. In her earlier pictures, when she was performing you can see that she had a wooden cane. It wasn’t until years later, in the 1950s, when she bought an acrylic cane in the USA. It was a square cane, so she asked her brother Ángel Campos to fix it up for her, because the handle part hurt her hand. Ángel would design all the canes she used for the rest of her life. He re-shaped this acrylic one, making it round and tapering to the bottom. He cut off the handle part, and inserted a gear shift knob that had a red flower inside it. He made a second one with a yellow flower inside, which became a very feminine version of the original, which she used all the time. This is when an XEW broadcaster gave her the nickname: ‘the lady with the crystal cane’ (‘la dama del bastón de cristal’). My cousin Lourdes Campos still has one of those canes to this day. Aunt Chela had numerous canes, with all different types of handles, even some shaped like animal heads, but she used these two canes the most.

Celia Campos Diaz died on June 18th, 1982, when she was just 59 years old. She and her friend Grace had been at my home in Connecticut in October 1981,having just returned from a two week stay in an Ashram in Bangalore, India. She had been convinced to go by Grace, who was a Sai Baba devotee at the time. Aunt Chela did not enjoy the austere and poor conditions of the Ashram, but did say the country was beautiful.

During this visit we spent a day with their friend, Rosita Bujones, a Cuban singer, in New Jersey. (Rosita’s sister, Minin, also a close friend, lived in Miami at the time.) We ate, and they sang all afternoon.

Chela and Grace stayed with us for a few weeks, but Aunt Chela was not feeling well. We speculated that maybe she got sick in India, but she didn’t want to go to the hospital here, she just wanted to return home to Mexico City. She promised me that she would go to the doctor immediately. We spoke regularly but she never mentioned her illness. I learned later on, from my mother-in-law, that Aunt Chela went to several doctors, and typhoid was mentioned. She went to the hospital in May 1982. We were never told that she was that sick, or had been admitted, and didn’t learn of her death until a month later. We were devastated and have never gotten over our grief at losing her. We still wish we had been told, so we could have gone to be with her.

This picture of her with Grace was taken in our living room in Connecticut only months before her death. Grace continued to visit us frequently until her own death at the age of 86.

• Part Two: Our Aunt Chela: Chela Campos – Radio Days
• Part Three: Our Aunt Chela: Chela Campos – Nightclub and theater singer

Related articles on MexConnect

• Cinematic cuisine: Mexican recipes from a Golden Age
• Cantinflas: super comic, super star, super man
• Emilio Fernandez, one of a kind

The post Our Aunt Chela: international singer Chela Campos, aka The Lady with the Crystal Cane appeared first on MexConnect.

Did You Know…?

A Mexican who tried to revolutionize the world of classical music was once nominated for the Nobel Prize in Physics.

In 1950, Julián Carrillo was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Physics. The nomination was something of a surprise to the scientific community since Carrillo was far better known as one of Mexico’s top violinists and a composer who had invented a microtonal music system known as Sonido 13.

His early life was typical of many of the outstanding characters born during the Porfiriato period at the end of the nineteenth century. Born in 1875, Carrillo was the youngest in a family of 19 children. He studied music in San Luis Potosí from the age of ten and in 1895 went to study at the National Conservatory of Music in Mexico City, where he became very interested in the acoustic basis of music and the laws governing the generation of fundamental intervals. Conventional theory held that, when a string is divided by two, the pitch produced by either half of the string is twice the pitch produced by the whole string (i.e. it is one octave higher). The interval named a fifth is produced when a string is divided by three, and so on. Carrillo began to experiment and, on July 13, 1895, found that he could use a razor to divide the interval of a tone on a violin string into sixteen parts, producing no fewer than sixteen distinct clear sounds.

After hearing Carrillo play in 1899, President Porfirio Díaz awarded him a scholarship to study in Europe, where Carrillo quickly became a first violinist in the orchestra of Leipzig Royal Conservatory. During his time in Europe, he composed his ‘Sextet in G Major for two violins, two violas and two violoncellos’ (1900) and his ‘First Symphony in D Major for full orchestra’ (1901).

In 1904, he won a major prize at Ghent Conservatory’s International Violin Competition, before returning to Mexico, where President Díaz presented him with an Amati violin “as a gift from the Mexican Nation” for his excellent performance abroad. Carrillo became a violinist, conductor, composer and teacher at the National Conservatory, but fled to the U.S. in 1914, after the downfall of Victoriano Huerta’s government.

In New York City, he organized and conducted the American Symphony Orchestra and gave a successful performance of his First Symphony. He also composed the music for David Griffith’s film, “Intolerance.” While in New York, Carrillo also wrote the “Thirteenth Sound Theory”, which became the focus of much of his later life, and which threatened to revolutionize classical music. Why was it called Sonido 13 (13th sound)? Well, simply because Carrillo had ‘discovered’ the first pitch outside the traditional 12 semitones to the octave.

Four years later, Carrillo returned to Mexico and was appointed Conductor (1918 – 1924) of the National Symphony Orchestra, which enjoyed great success at this time, and Principal (1920 – 1921) of the National Conservatory. After 1920, he began to popularize Sonido 13, as the next stage in the evolution of musical composition, involving the use of intervals smaller than half a tone. Some of his detractors said that it was not possible for the human ear to perceive such small intervals; others argued that Carrillo must have stolen the idea from European musicians.

The first major Sonido 13 concert was on February 15, 1925 and included compositions by Carrillo and several of his students using quarters, eighths – and sixteenths of a tone, performed on specially adapted instruments. In December, 1925, Carrillo took Sonido 13 to Havana, Cuba. The next year, he returned to New York City where the League of Composers commissioned him to write a microtonal work. His ‘Sonata casi fantasia in quarters, eighths – and sixteenths of a tone’ was performed for the first time in the New York Town Hall on March 13, 1926. Afterwards, Leopold Stokowski commissioned another work, the ‘Concertino in quarters, eighths – and sixteenths of a tone’, later performed by Stokowski and the Philadelphia Symphony Orchestra in New York and Philadelphia. In 1930, Carrillo organized the Thirteenth Sound Symphony Orchestra, in which all the musical instruments could play microtones. From 1930 to 1931, it was conducted by Carrillo and Leopold Stokowski.

During the latter part of his life, Carrillo continued to write widely about Sonido 13 as well as developing the appropriate instruments to play Sonido 13 music. In 1940, he applied for patents for a set of fifteen metamorphoser pianos, capable of producing, respectively, complete tones, thirds of a tone, quarters of a tone, fifths, sixths, sevenths, eighths, ninths, tenths, elevenths, twelfths, thirteenths, fourteenths, fifteenths, and sixteenths of a tone! Each piano had 96 keys, the same number as a regular piano, but the span in octaves of each piano depended on the fractions of a tone it was designed for. Hence, the piano for quarters of a tone covered four full octaves, while the piano for sixteenths of a tone covered only one octave! In 1949, the first metamorphoser piano (for thirds of a tone) was made and the following year Carrillo took it to the Paris Musical Conservatory. Also in 1950, in Pittsburgh, Leopold Stokowski conducted the first performance of ‘Horizons. Symphonic Poem for violin, cello and harp in quarter, eighths and sixteenths of a tone’. Further performances followed in Washington, Baltimore and Minneapolis. In 1958, a complete set of Carrillo’s 15 metamorphoser pianos won a Gold Medal in the Brussels’ World Fair.

Not surprisingly, Carrillo received numerous awards during his lifetime, including the Legion of Honor from France and the Great Cross of Merit from Germany. In Mexico, the government of his native state of San Luis Potosi declared July 13 (the anniversary of Carrillo’s 1895 experiment) a state holiday in honor of Sonido 13 and his birthplace, the small town of Ahualulco, was officially renamed Ahualulco del Sonido 13 in 1933. But perhaps the most surprising nomination he ever received was for the Nobel prize in physics. This came as a result of the experiments he made in New York University in 1947, when he proved that the conventionally accepted ‘node’s law’ had to be rectified, and that the frequency of the note produced by halving the length of a string is actually slightly more than twice the frequency of the base note. However, Carrillo didn’t actually win the Nobel prize; it was awarded to the Englishman Cecil Frank Powell for ‘his development of the photographic method of studying nuclear processes’.

To paraphrase an article published in the London Times, ‘Carrillo devoted his life to scrutinize an unsuspected microtonal world, undoing and rebuilding our chromatic musical scale. Even if we feel tempted to call him the disintegrator of the musical atom, this name does not do justice to the wonderful emotional world he has discovered. His is the greatest and the most surprising musical revolution since Terpander, the Greek musician, added two notes to the Chinese pentaphonic scale twenty six centuries ago’.

Carrillo died in Mexico City in September the 9th, 1965. His remains lie in the Rotonda de los Hombres Ilustres (the Rotunda of Illustrious Men and Women) in Dolores’ cemetery in Mexico City. Long may his music live on! ¡Viva Sonido 13!

This article is the basis for Chapter 25 in the author’s Mexican Kaleidoscope: myths, mysteries and mystique (Sombrero Books, 2016).

Author’s Note: This article relies heavily on the extensive website devoted to Carrillo including the detailed biography at https://paginas.tol.itesm.mx/campus/L00280370/julian.html  This site includes a list of Carrillo and microtonal resources, including downloadable microtonal music and details of Carrillo’s significance in the history of microtonal music.

For microtonal travel lovers, Ahualulco del Sonido 13 is located 39 kilometers northwest of the city of San Luis Potosí. Leaving that city, first follow federal highway 49 towards Zacatecas and then turn north on the road signed Charcas.

Copyright 2002 by Tony Burton. All rights reserved.

Published or Updated on: March 14, 2008 by Tony Burton © 2008

The post Did you know? Mexico’s Nobel Prize nominee and music revolutionary appeared first on MexConnect.

Did You Know…?

Modern sound recordings usually involve tiny disks which can hold dozens of tracks, specially designed to be easily portable and convenient. The Maya may have had different priorities. David Lubman has proposed that the earliest sound recording so far discovered on the planet may well be the main pyramid at Chichen Itza in the Yucatan.

We may never know whether it was originally accidental or intentional, but the sound can still be heard today, by standing in front of the pyramid and making a single hand clap. The resulting echo, from the pyramid’s staircase, is unusual, sounding like a downward chirp. Lubman makes a strong case for this chirp to be a deliberate representation of the call of the Respendant Quetzal bird. This bird, described in Peterson and Chalif’s Field Guide to Mexican Birds as “the most spectacular bird in the New World” was formerly common in the rainforest which originally cloaked this entire region. Quetzal birds were sacred to the Maya, and their feathers were highly prized.

Links between the main pyramid at Chichen Itza, known as the Pyramid of Kukulkan, and the quetzal bird are supported by the fact that Kukulkan was a Mayan deity, the feathered serpent (usually known in central Mexico as Quetzalcoatl). Depictions of Kukulkan often show the distinctively long feathers of the quetzal. The pyramid’s construction is so precise that at the equinoxes, the sun striking one side casts an undulating shadow down the stairway looking remarkably like the body of a serpent.

Visitors to the pyramid often remark on the unusually narrow steps and the height of the risers between them. Previous explanations have tended to explain them in terms of aesthetics, rather than function. Lubman, however, believes that they were very carefully and deliberately designed in order to create the chirped echo effect. His measurements and calculations suggest that the length of the staircase results in the complete echo lasting more than 100 milliseconds. The reason it sounds like a downward chirp is because the complete echo is actually made up by a whole series of individual echos, one from each of the 92 steps making up the sloping stairway. Since the steps are progressively further away from the listener as the sound travels up the staircase, the successive echos are also correspondingly delayed fractionally, and arrive with different frequencies. The end result? An echo that sounds remarkably like a quetzal bird.

The effect is best heard from relatively close to the pyramid. From three or four meters in front of the stairway, the chirp is clear. From further back, the difference in frequencies is small and the effect less obvious.

So, next time you’re in Chichen Itza, try and arrive before the crowds, and test the hand clap echo for yourself. When you do so, spare a thought for the ancient Maya people who may have done just the same 1300 years ago. Perhaps they too marvelled at the result!

This article is the basis for Chapter 4 in the author’s Mexican Kaleidoscope: myths, mysteries and mystique (Sombrero Books, 2016).

Sources

• Lubman, David (1998) “Archaeological acoustic study of chirped echo from the Mayan pyramid at Chichen Itza, in the Yucatan Region of Mexico… Is this the world’s oldest known sound recording?”. Paper presented to the 136th Meeting of the Acoustical Society of America, October 1998.
• Lubman, David (2002) “More on the Mayan Pyramid”. Article on the website of the Orange County Regional Chapter of the Acoustical Society of America.

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In January 1992, looking for the roots of the musical form called son jarocho, I made a pilgrimage to the river port town of Tlacotalpan, Veracruz. At dawn, as I boarded the southbound bus from the port of Veracruz, I was as excited as a child on Christmas morning. Tlacotalpan — the self-proclaimed heart of the music and dance that has been my passion for 20 years. Wow!

Forty-five minutes after leaving Veracruz we were driving down a narrow strip of land. The sun rose over the Gulf of Mexico on our left. On our right was the huge Laguna de Alvarado, which is the mouth of the Rio Papaloapan (Nahuatl – Aztec – for butterflies). Soon we passed the charming port of Alvarado where the Rio Papaloapan dumps into the Gulf. Within a few kilometers the turn off for Tlacotalpan/Cosamaloapan appeared. That road followed along the wide, placid Rio de Mariposas (Spanish for Papaloapan). At 7:00 a.m. I was dropped off in the flattest but prettiest of towns.

Tlacotalpan, after a series of disastrous fires, had been rebuilt and came of age during the Porfiriato (the thirty years before 1910). The one and two story neoclassic buildings are painted intense shades – emerald and lime green, pale pink, rosa mexicana, lavender, purple, violet, blue, turquoise, yellow and melon – no insipid, unimaginative white in this town. Contrasted with the riot of color was the town’s tranquility and peacefulness at that early hour. It was a peacefulness that permeated my entire day.

Except for the road that paralleled the river, traffic was minimal and the population continued along its lugubrious way in the tropical heat. I wandered the town all day. First I visited the churches on the parque (park) and then took in the Museo Salvador Fernado – a museum in an old house containing artifacts of interest from the city’s past. I ate spicy, rich seafood at one of the stands along the river, lazily watching the fishermen bring in their catch. I meandered over to the Casa de Cultura, which is also the museum of the great Mexican composer Agustín Lara — Tlacotalpan’s favorite son.

In my near dream-like state I got lost innumerable times (the river appeared and disappeared in the most amazing way). I perused the regional tienda de artesanias on the parque for folk art and handicrafts and of course bought several tapes of the local music. In the excellent restaurant of the Hotel Doña LaLa, I ate a leisurely dinner and got to know the owner. With true Mexican hospitality, he invited me to his mother’s birthday party that night. I was clearly the only tourist around. It had been a charming and restful day in this provincial, laid-back, and out of the way town. However, I was soon to discover that contrary to my first impression, the entire town, every person, every building, every business, every house and every family was busy preparing — preparing physically, mentally, and spiritually. Preparing because in five days the Feria or Fair would start.

50 weeks out of the year Tlacotalpan sits in its torpid tropical slumber, but starting late January and running for two weeks it celebrates the Fiesta de la Candelaria. For most of these two weeks the Feria (fair) is made up of a carnival, bailes tropicales (salsa dances), and a very large tianguis (temporary market). Then – in stark contrast to its normal tranquility — on January 31st through February 2nd the town explodes into a religious and secular frenzy, its streets stuffed with true believers and joyful revelers.

The afternoon of January 31 kicks off with the Cabalgata (cavalcade). This is a parade of equestrians, dressed in what is recognized as the symbolic traje (costume) of the Jarochos (folks who live in southern Veracruz). The men dress in white with a red paliacate (bandana), and the typical sombreo de cuatro piedras (hat of four rocks or indentations), The women wear flowing white dresses, black aprons and rebozos (shawls) with ribbons and flowers in their hair. During the next three days there will be other parades including the “ Mojiganga” (a procession of giant figures). There will be regattas on the river, bailes, masses, various presentations in the parque, and lots of drinking of Toritos de Cacahuates (liquor made from peanuts). In the whirl of activity there are three events that stand out; el Encuentro de Jareneros, el Corrido de Toros , and el Paseo de la Virgin .

Starting on the night of January 31st in la Plaza de Doña Marta, jareneros (musicians who play the traditional music from southern Veracruz, called Son Jarocho) gather for the largest Encuentro and Fandango of the year. The Encuentro (encounter), is a staged event where groups from many of the small towns and ranchos present the multitude of musical styles that come from the sub-zones of the region. Along with the musicians, the Decimistas come to present their work. Decimas are poems of ten line stanzas that are declared (dramatically spoken with the accompaniment of Son Jarocho music). This form is closely related to a form in Cuba and in fact, southern Veracruz was a favored destination of immigration for Cubanos. Decimas often proclaim the greatness of Veracruz and the beauty of its women, but the majority are picaresque comments on everyday life. Along about 11 p.m. the action shifts to the parque where a Fandango (dance done to Son Jarocho) gets started. Here one can watch the most talented dancers from the region tearing it up until 8,9, or even 10 a.m. The Encuentro and Fandangos span all three nights.

El Corrido de Torros is just that, the Running of the Bulls. As February first approaches businesses start putting-up bamboo fences in front of their establishments. The bulls in Tlacotalpan are free to run more or less where they will, controlled only by vaqueros (cowboys). As a result, they are likely to shoot down any street at any time, jump up on the sidewalks, and have even been known to enter houses – why a door would be open is a question unto itself. One year, carefully avoiding the center of town, some friends and I were walking down a side street and were about to cross one of the major avenues when two vaqueros galloped by warning us of an approaching bull. As we were on a somewhat narrow side street, we felt backing up a short distance would be sufficient protection. In a timely manner we were doing just that, when who should decide to hang a left at our corner but the bull. I’ve never jumped on top of a car so fast in my life!

We were not exactly thrilled to see that bull and he probably less so us – in retrospect I am sure he was just looking for some peace and quiet. During the late morning he had been herded with two companions to the riverbank across from the town. There, totally against his will, he was driven – with much rope slapping, yelling, pulling, pushing and tail twisting — by vaqueros into the river and forced to swim the great width of the Papaloapan. As he entered the river he had been greeted by boatloads of folks who had come out to accompany him on his journey. Upon arriving at the opposite bank, another set of vaqueros busily set about driving him up onto the shore. Now however, leaving the river was totally against the bull’s wishes as he was being driven into an excited crowd of hundreds of people who were waiting for him on the wide boulevard above.

A bull, upon mounting the bank, immediately becomes very dangerous. He doesn’t know where he is or where to go and all the people yelling, throwing things and trying to jump on his back confuse him. He learns very quickly that by charging he can get a little respect and some space and so he starts doing this consistently. Every year, as a result of the bulls trying to protect themselves, people are seriously hurt and sometimes killed. The bulls too are seriously injured and they are always killed. For the bulls, death may come as a blessing after such an incredibly tough day. The city fathers talk about trying to control the situation but nothing has been done yet. My advise for anyone interested in “ El Corrido” is that they attempt to obtain seating on a private balcony or roof or that they procure a boat and watch from afar.

The Papaloapan is a huge river that has been fairly tranquil since the building of the Aleman Dam. As the conduit of great quantities of water – draining both las sierras and la cuenca (mountains and river basin) – it has in the past habitually overflowed its banks causing deadly flooding. El Paseo de la Virgen de la Candelaria is a supplication for protection against this event. February 2nd is the birthday of the Virgen de la Candelaria. On this morning, a mass is held starting at dawn. Around 6 a.m. a mariachi and the jaraneros (who have been playing at the Fandango all night) enter the church for the playing of Las Mañanitas (the traditional Mexican Birthday song) and La Llorona (The Crying Woman). A little later the Virgen is carried in procession through the center of town and down to the malecon (walkway along the river) where a barge awaits her.

There a crush of people tries to board the barge in order to take the paseo (passage) along the river with the Virgin. My first year, having innocently joined the procession, I found myself caught in the surge to board. My friend managed his way on, but I was forced face to face with a very fierce police officer. Finding myself in the proverbial “immovable object/irresistible surge” quandary, I quickly decided that a tourist card wouldn’t be much protection and as gracefully as possible extricated myself. Many folks rent boats from the local fishermen, even bringing musicians along to serenade the Virgin on her voyage up and down the river. Those who do not manage to acquire a boat, line the shore to watch the procession.

Tlacotalpan is a relatively small town and at the time of the Feria, with folks coming from all over the region, its population expands exponentially. The town sports only two modest hotels (La Reforma and Doña LaLa) and their regular clients book them up the year before. One can get a hotel in the towns of Alvarado or Cosamaloapan which are fairly close. In doing this however, one would give up what may be the greatest thing about the Candelaria. This is the opportunity of a lifetime for the casual visitor to Mexico. Because there are so few hotels, just about everyone opens their house up and the traveler who normally wouldn’t get a chance to be up close and personal with a Mexican family gets just that opportunity.

I had gone to Tlacotalpan several days before the Candelaria to check out the housing situation. I went to the Hotel Doña LaLa to inquire about lodging and was directed by the staff to a very nice middle-class family. A friend and I stayed in a private room at the grandmother’s house. While this house had only cold water (it’s the tropics you know) we were invited to the families house to use hot water if we preferred. We had the run of the house and secure parking for the car. We met all the neighbors, were invited to lunch one day, and went out with the family on their boat for the running of the bulls. And best of all, now I have friends in Tlacotalpan.

I chose to ask about lodging at the Doña LaLa, but the palacio (city hall), any business, cab drivers, and in fact just about anyone on the street will know of a room. While I went early, and I believe that this is the best idea, there is usually some sort of room available throughout the Feria. Keep in mind that on the three principle days the selection will be slim. I procured my room, left a deposit, and found all in readiness when I returned ten days later. Be sure you state clearly that you want a private room. If you don’t, you might find yourself sleeping with the cousins who just dropped by.

Expect that you will share a bathroom and if hot water is an issue, ask about it. Be sure to look at the room first. The room where we stayed did not have a door but a lace curtain. The idea of a curtain was no problem for us, but we wanted something a little heavier and we were accommodated. You will probably not get a key, so be clear with folks about what kinds of hours you’ll keep – probably late ones like everyone else’s. Meals are not normally part of the package, but there are several good restaurants so you won’t starve and you can get a latte in el parque. Prices are negotiable, our room cost thirty dollars a day. This was not bad, perhaps a little high — but considering all we got, probably a good deal.

One small point about money. Tlacotalpan has one bank and it does not cash travelers checks, rarely changes dollars and during the three days of the Candelaria it is closed. The Hotel Doña LaLa will sometimes change dollars but the rates are insulting. Better to come prepared than drive the rutted road to Cosamaloapan to bank.

If you’re going to visit Veracruz, do yourself a favor and go to Tlacotalpan — go for the tranquility, go for the excitement, go for the colors, for the music, the sea food, the warmth, the processions, the bulls, the dancing, and be sure to go for the chilaquiles verdes at the Restaurant Doña Lala — I never miss a chance.

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Cogan’s Reviews

It’s a long time since I started to read a book with such high hopes. And I don’t think I’ve ever put one down, unfinished, with such a feeling of disappointment.

Why the optimism? Well, I’m sure everyone knows that Laura Esquivel is the author of the very successful “Like Water For Chocolate”, which became an even more successful movie. The novel sold 3 million copies in 30 languages. The movie won 11 awards. So I picked up her second novel in its paperback edition and, at first glance, found it a most attractive package. It comes with a compact disk which contains about 39 minutes of operatic arias and some Mexican pop music, which is meant to accompany parts of the text. It even has half a dozen sections of rather dramatic artwork by Miguelanxo Prado, Spain’s foremost graphic artist. And it makes generous use of poetry, with a poem at the start of each chapter. I particularly liked the samples from Trece Poetas del Mundo Azteca. At first blush the complete package looks like a winner…..and all for $16 U.S.

Anyway, even though the story starts out calmly enough, by the time you reach chapter two, you’re in the middle of the wildest kind of fantasy, part new age and part sci-fi, complete with time travel, space travel, reincarnation, astrology and almost anything else you can imagine. The time span of the book stretches from the fall of Moctezuma to the 23rd century. The setting is Mexico City… or then again it might be The Garden of Eden or the planet Korma. The characters may be actual people…or they may be guardian angels, or demons. Or they may be someone who is going through her 14,000th reincarnation. The men may have been women earlier in the story, or women who used to be men. And, of course, there’s plenty of futuristic technology….like televirtuals (which plonk you right into the middle of ongoing events), photomental cameras, soul transplants (in case you REALLY want to change your identity), auraphotos, and so on.

Here’s what the web site has to say about the plot: “It’s a story of a passion that survives from Moctezuma’s empire to the 23rd century. Azucena is an “astroanalyst”, a sort of highly evolved psychotherapist, who ministers to the karmically challenged. As an enlightened soul, Azucena has finally caught the brass ring of reincarnation: she is allowed to meet her twin soul, her true love, Rodrigo. But after one night of supreme passion, the lovers are separated, and Azucena must search for Rodrigo across the galaxy and through 14,000 lives.”

No matter how much I might try, I couldn’t put it more succinctly than that.

At about the halfway point, when I was thoroughly confused and growing rather irritable with all these goings on, I took the coward’s way out and went into Amazon.com to see what the customers of my favorite bookstore were saying about all of this. It was a rather interesting visit. There are seven pages of reviews in there -more than I can ever recall seeing for any other book. Also, all the opinions are expressed in the most extreme terms.

On one hand, you have: “…romantic”, innovative, and wildly comic”. “A great book, not to be missed.” “Wonderful, wonderful!” “Explores love and humanity at the deepest level.” “A humorous look at the meaning of life.” “A multi-media experience of love.”

On the other hand you have: “A strain to finish”, “The author doesn’t care, so why should we?” “One of the worst books I’ve ever read.” “Sadly disappointing.” “A drag.” “Drivel.” “It stinks.” “Overly self conscious…hollow.” (Actually, I’m rather impressed with Amazon.com for publishing that many negative reviews.)

Okay…after all that…where does a karmically challenged reviewer like me stand? Well, I guess I have to say I’m a helluva lot closer to the “drivel” group than the “wonderful, wonderful!” people. I’m disappointed more than anything. Laura Esquivel can really write and she has an exuberant sense of humor and she looks lovely in the back cover photo. And I hate to say negative things about a lovely lady. I liked the first chapter, before she zoomed off into outer space and the sixth dimension. In it she was talking about two women in love with the same man. The man is Rodrigo, one of Cortes’s lieutenants. The women are Isabel, his Spanish wife and Citlali, his Aztec mistress, who is also the housemaid. Here’s how Esquivel describes relations between the two women.

“For a meeting to take place, two people must come together in the same space, but neither of these women inhabited the same house. Isabel continued to live in Spain, Citlali in Tenochtitlán. They had no way of ever meeting, much less communicating, for they did not speak the same language. Neither of them could recognize herself in the eyes of the other. They walked on the same paths, were warmed by the same sun, were awakened by the same birds, were caressed by the same hands and kissed by the same lips; yet they found not a single point of contact…”

What a pity someone who can write like that should squander her talents so wildly. When you write, you need discipline… perhaps even more so when you write science-fiction or new age, or when you try (heaven forbid!) to put The Celestine Prophecy into fictional form, which is what one of those Amazon.com reviewers thought was happening. It’s hard to find much sense of discipline in this book.

I liked the many pages of artwork, but they didn’t really match the story line. For me, the illustrations had a dated look to them, as though they were depicting past events, which worked against all that futuristic skittering back and forth through time and space. But the poems were nice, especially the samples from Trece Poetas del Mundo Azteca.

The CD is pleasant listening, but it’s very much of this day and age. You can easily find the same music on hundreds of radio stations. However, and, even though I know I’ll never read the book again, I’m quite happy to add the CD to my collection.

I’m not completely ready to give up on Laura Esquivel yet. However, next time I won’t shell out the $16 until after I’ve read the reviews in Amazon.com and elsewhere.

Verdict: Approach with extreme caution.
Available from Amazon Books: Paperback

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Westwords

MexConnect readers, a priceless lot, ask occasional questions via e-mail. They receive sincere efforts at answers.

Some exchanges have the potential to interest others. You’ll know shortly whether they interest you.

Question: Is there any good news in Mexico?

Answer 1: Of course there is. Mangos are ripening and the price per kilo has dropped below gold bullion.

Answer 2: San Miguel de Allende has a new business – a combo bowling alley, roller-skating rink and soda shoppe. Sounds like Kansas 1950. Amazing what some people have for foresight.

Answer 3: Guadalajara has saved $85 million by withdrawing as host of the 2017 world swimming championships. The city says it has already spent almost $10 million in preparation and will face a $5 million forfeiture fine but will not lose a larger fortune staging an event that was destined to fail financially.

It really hurt Mexico Sports Institute official Jesus Mena, former Olympic diving medalist who helped win the bid, to admit surrender.

“We have informed the international swimming federation that Mexico will no longer host the world championships.”

The explanation included the depressed price of oil and federal budget cuts.

Guadalajara is learning – slowly. It suffered an awful deficit as host of the 2011 Pan Am Games. To settle debts and restore a decent credit rating, it borrowed $2,439,830,553 pesos to be repaid within 20 years.

The games did not generate the predicted economic upswing. Guadalajara did register an increase in tourism but it was less than what the city gets for Easter.

Answer 4: Chinese manufacturing is moving to Mexico. Is this a complete turnaround, or what?

And, Mexico is shipping raspberries and blackberries to China, six tons per flight, along with suggestions of what they go with – pies, cereal, yoghurt, ice cream – but probably not chicken chow mein.

Question: I have lived a sheltered life. Who the heck is Gloria Trevi?

Answer: Oh my, how deep was your cave?

Gloria de los Angeles Trevi Ruiz, now 47, is a Mexican pop-rock singer-songwriter with a brightly checkered past and awesome accomplishments – more than 400 songs published, more than 20 milliion records sold, more than 100 million video views online and standing-room-only concerts in many, many places.

The new movie of her life, “Gloria”, is or soon will be in U.S. theaters. It has already been pirated and is for sale at Mexico street markets.

At age 12, Gloria left her home in Monterrey to build a career in Mexico City. She sang and danced on sidewalks for loose change and served quesadillas at a food stand when times were really tough.

She linked up with an older man, Sergio Andrade, and started using her sexuality for political activism. Her songs ran the gauntlet from violence against women to phony religion to hunger to drug trafficking to the snooty, abusive upper class.

Despite or perhaps because of her raunchy style, Trevi was worshipped by Mexican girls who thought she was what Madonna should have been.

In the late 1990s or maybe 2000, Gloria and her older man and an associate or two were charged with corrupting minors through a sex-slave operation. She and he did prison time in Brazil and Mexico.

Gloria was eventually cleared of charges due to “lack of evidence”.

She lost five years but did have a child or two while in custody.

Gloria de los Angeles Trevi Ruiz rebounded like a champ. She may be more famous now than she was then.

Question: Are there no limits to Mexican protests?

Answer: Probably not.

Those still heartbroken and angry over the disappearance and deaths of 43 students in Guerrero and others just looking for a fight have used that tragedy as an excuse to attack Coca-Cola operations. They have hijacked trucks, stolen cases of drinks, captured a couple of Coke employees and attempted to fire-bomb a Coke facility.

I asked a Mexican friend why. He said because the trucks are red.

Protesters have attacked other big companies, department stores, Oxxo snack shops, dairy delivery trucks and Bimbo bakery operations.

Such behavior has absolutely nothing to do with the 43 deaths. It is total lawlessness. Many talk about it. Nobody does anything.

Repercussions to the Guerrero tragedy have hit worldwide. The United Nations has proclaimed that Mexico faces a widespread problem of disappearances of civilians at the hands of police and military. This sin is supposedly compounded by government’s failure to investigate.

I feel so much better knowing that the UN knows what I have known for years.

You might be uplifted by the Mexican government response. It says it will consider suggestions for improvement.

Question: You may have answered this 17 times but here it is again: How important is it to speak Spanish in Mexico?

Answer: I’ll give you distinguished Patzcuaro commentator Michael Dickson’s summation: When he moved to Mexico, he spoke no Spanish. He says he believed then and more so now that learning the language is essential. Without Spanish, you remain clueless in many situations. The culture will forever be obscure.

Dickson attended language school for six months. After that, he caught a break. He met a lovely younger woman who spoke no English. His Spanish got better in a hurry. They were married. They communicate in Spanish.

Dickson says: Talking to your wife is a good thing.

Question: Just heard a story about a Mexico City restaurant serving hot soup in a gourd. Really? Can this be?

Answer: Now for the rest of the story: This technique is a few hundred years older than I am. Thin slices of meat, raw vegetables and a secret broth are placed in a gourd bowl at tableside. Very hot, smooth rocks are added. The mix boils and boils some more.

When the show stops, the waiter says “Soups on” or something like that.

Published or Updated on: March 17, 2015 by Marvin West © 2015

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A Balloon in Cactus

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A Balloon in Cactus

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