The town of San Benito, Texas
is only a few miles West nearby Brownsville which would unequivocally be pegged
as a “now you see it now you don’t” tiny speck of a municipality as I remember
it during the mid 1950s when I, my two younger brothers (Our third, a sister,
the youngest, was not born yet until 1958), and our parents drove by often or
when we were being trucked in towards “las piscas” (cotton fields) to work from
sun up to sun down at these back breaking vast agricultural cotton fields. San
Benito hasn’t changed their Tex-Mex atmosphere flavor like much of the RGV.
Nevertheless, this small city
has become a giant beacon tourist attraction from local, national and globally
as tourists continue to pour in like someone let the water faucet run unabated.
San Benito is the native home of one of their very own famous native sons whose
songs and his music can be heard often playing even after his passing on
October 14, 2006. And who is this famous person of prominence in
mention? San Benito is the birthplace of none other than Baldemar Garza Huerta
aka the late Tex-Mex singer music icon Freddy Fender who passed away at age 69.
Freddy Fender who? This is like asking; “Willie Nelson who?!”
Freddy Fender (June 4, 1937 – October 14, 2006), born Baldemar
Garza Huerta in San Benito, Texas. He is best known
for his 1975 hits "Before the Next Teardrop Falls" and the subsequent remake of his own "Wasted Days and Wasted Nights".(Source: Wikipedia)
If one is to be driving into
San Benito’s city limits, there is a huge imposing likeness mural of him
(Freddy Fender) on its expressway entrance water tower. I saw this Freddy
Fender mural city water tower myself when I was driven by as my hosting
relatives were driving me to a birthday party towards the next town in
Harlingen, another small adjacent municipality. It’s important to understand
the Tex-Mex culture and its people. They (we) have a different outlook on life
and somewhat with a different light than our own Chicanos brethren living
outside of the RGV.
In spite that we as Mexican
Americans / Chicanos, specifically, throughout the U.S. Diaspora share the same
language, history and culture, nevertheless many of the people within the Rio
Grande Valley of Texas are also somewhat slightly different in character and
customs in regards to food, music, etc. in many ways than one can imagine. As a
matter of FACT, since I have been residing in East L.A., Ca., I have come
across many of my Chicano brothers and sisters who are originally from the RGV
whom they themselves also have relatives of their own down there too. Yes, we
“Tejanos” can be found like finding sand on the Santa Monica Beach or snow on
the San Gabriel Mountains, including right here in ole East L.A. alright! Hey!
Helloooo?! Yoohoo! (Me waving at you like crazy…!)
The RGV Tex-Mex, as we proudly
call ourselves, “Tejanos”, is where the founding of Tex-Mex guisados (cuisine)
is one of a kind which is what we take pride in. And this also goes for our
Tex-Mex music, songs and even our own “Tejano” old time polka dance style is
something to find very unique in nature. Freddy Fender was one of our many
Tex-Mex early music entertainment ambassadors from 1959 until his death in 2006
as he took his music, language and culture nationally and throughout the globe
each time he played to a full house audience. Many other Tex-Mex entertainers
of his kind of prominence as well have done so much for the RGV cultura since
more than five decades ago to present date.
To understand our proud
Tex-Mex flavor of life and its people, it’s of conventional wisdom for everyone
and anyone to come and visit Olmito, Harlingen, McAllen, San Benito, Edinburg,
Edcouch, Elsa, Brownsville and the rest of the surrounding areas within the RGV
realm at least once in a lifetime. This is what Aztlan in the making is all about!
And the beauty of it all is that NOSOTROS will NEVER have to fire one single
shot in anger! It’s all done with hospitality, music, culture, language and OUR
everso growing population numbers to
boot!
However, surprisingly enough,
today, this “Ugly Ducking” San Benito as I knew it then is now a rapid growing
tourist attraction to many hundreds if not thousands and with much more
potential of incoming Freddy Fender fans in the future, locally, nationally and
internationally to pay homage to this great music legendary icon. I would not
be surprised if this holds true from the four corners of the world over by many
of his close friends who knew him in person and music loving fans who had
heard, seen or by those who had attended his concerts when he was on
tour.
I myself was fortunate
enough to had seen him perform for the very first time in person when I was
just a kid and for the last time some 20 years ago at a small community center
in Azusa, Ca., about 20 miles from my residence, east bound of East LA. Come to
think of it, when I was growing up in Brownsville, my parents took me to some
gathering, a few miles Northward bound towards a tiny ranchito town
of “Las Prietas” at “El Mesquiton”, a well known RGV open air improvised weekly
dance “hall’ type. …And if I’m not mistaken, that night I was there, I remember
him singing; “Wasted Days And Wasted Nights”. This was the # 1 song of its day
which was his sensational success hit in those days.
Everyone in our barrio of El
Ramireno and throughout, the people continuously played his new song almost
24/7. Freddy Fender will always be San Benito’s pride and joy…, and mine too.
From the information sources from other fellow Tejanos older than I, it’s been
said that Freddy Fender took his stage name after his own “Fender” guitar brand
as he is alleged to have initiated his young fledging career with. This is the
story known by those who knew him personally in “El Valle” (“The
Valley”).
From what I remember then,
this was the ending era of the “Pachuco” (“Zoot Zoot”) days in my own barrio
and the adjacent colonia, “La Murralla” (“The Wall”), including other
Brownsville outlying barrios known as “colonias” (“colonies” aka “barrios”).
“El Ramireno” where I originally grew up is still inhabited by the offspring
generations, even before me. The landscape there has not changed much since I
left it in the mid 1960s, except for the modern day paved streets, lights and
utilities which were almost non-existent for us poor folks then. Sadly enough,
most of my neighborhood school chums and the people from those days are no
longer residing there anymore. They have probably moved on or are now deceased.
I only got to see a small handful of them, their children and grandchildren.
This is the neighborhood where
our younger sister, Lilia was born some 57 years ago with our dad who had to
act as the unexpected improvised emergency mid wife “Mr. Stork”. I was outside
by the draped curtain bedroom window and within ear shot as our mother was in
labor and our father made the “delivery”. Well, it wasn’t too long when I heard
my dad slap my just delivered baby sister’s butt just to make sure she was
alive which she started crying and screaming her lungs out: “Ouuuuch! That hurt
dammit! Wauuuuuugh! Wauuuuugh…!”
During my youth, like most of
the surrounding towns, the majority of us within the RGV, we were mostly cotton
picking agricultural campesinos (farm workers) eking out a living for our
families, but this probably no longer holds true today for the majority of its
area inhabitants anymore. The land where we formerly picked cotton, there are
now small shopping centers, Amigo Land nearby “La Muralla” for one, and other
commercial and residential commercial and residential developments on these
regions as well. Since my last visit to my native Brownsville about five years
ago, I have noticed this city has changed tremendously with the times from
50-55 years ago to present date.
Most of the RGV townships in
general, can boast about their prideful up to date modernization on most of
these once sleepy towns with all their latest technology, shopping malls, great
cuisine ethnic eateries of different cultural styles, including one of my
favorite Arab cafes on Alton Gloor Blvd. All these amenities were totally
non-existent during my days over five decades ago.
As far as regional
institutions of higher learning level…, the RGV also have their own colleges
and universities, i.e., Southmost College, University of Texas Brownsville
(UTB) and other academies of renown throughout other small surrounding
municipalities as well. It’s a known FACT that many students attending these
academic institutions hail from out of state and of other foreign nations. I
have run into them during my early morning downtown walks, during the evenings
or on weekends as they are window browsing, eating at the local cafes or just
visiting the one big modern shopping “Sunrise Mall” that is always buzzing with
shoppers.
While I was enjoying my three
week vacation a few years ago in “Browntown” (Brownsville), as its
affectionally dubbed, I did my daily morning walks through the nearby walking
distance downtown main streets, shopped, and frequented the small but
delightful “hole in the wall” cafes to eat my favorite array of Tex-Mex food or
just simply strolled on these pleasant calm unstressful streets. As I walked
this area, it reminded me of my childhood years as nostalgia would set in as it
took me to the exact spots where I was standing right there and then of the days
when I roamed with my homemade improvised shoe shine box in tow, shining shoes
and selling the local bi-lingual Brownsville Herald/El Heraldo newspapers.
It was a very eerie feeling as
if I had never left my old haunts. Just for a minute or so, I closed my eyes
and leaned against the old former City Hall Square on East Adams St. as I took
a sudden quantum leap back in time to my youthful days. Within those few
seconds, I felt as if I had entered a time capsule and found myself walking
these same streets, no longer as a 60ish old man, but as a 12-13 year old
street kid just hawking his newspapers and looking for customers to shine their
shoes for a nickel or a dime and horse playing with his fellow street hustling
chums!
Wow! Never in my wildest
dreams did I ever think that one day in my lifetime I would be confronted with
my present and nostalgic past! Had I been given the actual opportunity to go
into my own past right there and then…, I would have NEVER returned! My dire
impoverished childhood life would not have fazed me in the least bit as long as
I was with both my parents and young siblings. Then in seconds, when reality
set in seconds, I realized this mindset on my part would have been totally
selfish of me for not thinking of my waiting at home in Los Angeles own present
family I would be leaving behind! Thank goodness this was just a “delirious”
spur of the moment unrealistic thinking on my part. I have never forsaken my
present family then nor would I do so now…, or ever! One cannot live in the past,
regardless of the circumstances. I’m just grateful of what I have accomplished
throughout my lifetime as I also advise others to do the same each time they
wake up every morning and be able to breathe one more day of their lives.
I never remotely even imagined
that one day this 10-12 year old street kid would one day three and a half
decades later wind up working in this great newspaper profession, but not as a
street vendor anymore! Oh no…, but in a different role as a print/radio
journalist covering the news and as a writer this time. Nevertheless, I cherish
those newspaper vending and shoe shining days of yore! I always make sure where
my humble proud beginnings were originally initiated and took its root. By
remembering why, how and where I came from, this always keeps me humble in my
demeanor. …It’s healthy.
“ONE WHO IS HUMBLE
AND SERENE UNDER FIRE MAKES ONE A FORCE TO BE RECKON WITH AGAINST INDIFFERNCE
AND ARROGANCE!”, E.F. Mohammed Martinez
Walking on these same
surrounding familiar streets was an everyday treat for me each and every time I
stepped out of my hosting niece and her family’s house where I was staying as
their guest. From her house, I would walk about three or four blocks distance
to these main downtown streets like as if I had never left this beautiful great
city many years than I can remember…, to my regret somewhat. But then again, if
I had not left, there is no doubt; the opportunities for this school dropout
throughout my life would have been dismal to nil with the course of time to
date.
In hindsight, I wonder if life
would had given me the fortunate breaks I have accomplished to present date or
what kind of person I would had turned out to be. Because of this turnout,
there is no doubt it has made me appreciate what little I have achieved as a
person today. I always kept in mind what I left behind in Brownsville and the
RGV. This is one of several reasons why I want to return home and give back to
mi gente that I left behind many decades ago. If I can empower just one person
and change his/her life, I will have accomplished my final life goal.
Five and a half decades later,
there is no doubt about my plans to return home and spend my retirement days
via partaking in my journalistic and literary writing endeavors within
Brownsville/Matamoros (Mexico) and the RGV as I remember it. I want to walk
every street, nook and cranny I ever walked on these municipalities and seek
its cast of “characters” I grew up with. Finding those old friends and
acquaintances that were part of my growing up life will be hard to find, but
not impossible.
Some of the downtown buildings
that I can remember during my youth are still standing on the same exact sites
in spite with the passing of time. Some are in total decay as others are being
renovated, including the almost century old, “El Jardin Hotel” where I worked
as an elevator boy at the age of 15 or 16. To get hired there I had to lie
about my age then. Because of the time frame since the early 1960s, many
geographic changes have taken place since I left this town and here is the
irony of it all as follows.
While I was on my first
vacation there six or seven years ago, there were times when I got lost and had
to ask other people passing by for directions. I just could not believe my own
predicament…, and to my utter disbelief! I somehow lost track and sight of
where I was during my morning strolls on what I thought was my childhood era
“old turf”! There were times when I felt out of place as if I was now just
another lost “tourist” who did not know his way around and in need of a tour
guide! I just could not believe that it had come to this! …And it was not a
very pleasant feeling for me to feel like a stranger in the middle of downtown
Brownsville…, my birthplace to boot! I could not accept thinking of myself as
an outsider where I grew up as a kid on these exact same streets! Ironic, but
true!
As fate would have it, it was
kind of strange that just half a block Southwest across the street from where I
was staying with my relatives, I could see the old former county courthouse
where I also spent part of my childhood inside shining shoes and selling
newspapers. But is it was stranger than fiction that on this same street a few
more blocks west was where my parents lived at 543 East Monroe Street…, the
property where I was born! Were these coincidences? Was something telling me
that it was finally time for me to come home for good? Out of bewilderment, I
decided to seek and visit this address of my birth which I had never seen or
visited since I was “midwife delivered” 66 years ago at a house that it longer
exists except that I remembered that I had seen this address on my birth
certificate. When I walked these same few blocks and on the same street west
towards this particular address, as it turned out to my surprise, it was now
just another unoccupied vacant grassy lot.
When I arrived there, I walked
on this same empty lot of my birthplace and it felt very, very strange just
thinking what kind of life existed for both my parents during their lifetime in
those days especially on February 14, 1948…, the day of my birth. I sure hope
this same property is for sale when I retire and have the money to purchase
it…, if it’s for sale of course. If it’s available I would like if at all
possible to purchase it and build a retirement home for me and thereafter leave
it to one of my children to keep it in the family altogether.
According to my updated source
of information furnished by Alfredo, my nephew, and husband of Yezka, my
niece-in-law and Editor-In-Chief of this blog; La Reconquista de Aztlan National
Liberation Movement, this century old historical former Cameron County
Courthouse building on Monroe St. is now a county bureaucratic departmental
office, a far cry from the old days as a bustling judicial courthouse that I
once roamed inside this priceless and preserved piece of architecture from
those days of grandeur. I have not been inside this building in over 50 years
or even from a few years ago when I was staying only two or three minutes
walking distance from this courthouse. I walked by this historical building on
a daily basis and recollected those memories when I was a tiny insignificant
and obscure part of its history. This old county government building is
believed to have been built in 1914 or there about. This is also the same site
when shining shoes, the bilingual Brownsville Herald/El Heraldo newspapers was
only ten cents for both and a gallon of gasoline was only 25 cents! In those
days I remember walking inside during several different court sessions as they
were taking place.
One of the most memorable
court sessions that went awry that I witnessed back then as I was shining a
customer’s shoes on its hallway was when just a few feet from the court’s door
had just slammed wide open as court proceedings had just adjourned while about
fifty or so men, women and two or three children in tow came out onto its court
hallway as they were pushing, shoving and cussing each other out who were very
close on the verge of throwing punches at each other on a free for all fracas.
If it had not been for the rapid court bailiffs and local police presence there
to interfere, there was no telling how worse it could have gotten! This
affected my shoeshine “business”, because my customer got scared and ran off
without paying the ten cents he owed me for the shoe shine!
(In retrospect, due to the
passage of time, I lost memory count as to the former Brownsville Herald rate
in 1958-60, therefore, I contacted the Brownsville Herald offices for
assistance to confirm the rate per newspaper then. The Herald’s personnel
office, Ms. Araceli Guajardo & Carlos Rodriguez were very cooperative in
providing me the proper source of information. I thank both of them sincerely
for their collaboration for this story.)
Your Comments Are Appreciated
At:
La Reconquista de Aztlan National Liberation Movement
Or
Face Book: E.f. Mohammed
Martinez
Or
(Yezka Flores – Assigned
Editor-In-Chief)
