A Weekend in Mexico City with Willie Colón

by Peter Aviles

 Mexico City? What's Willie Colón doing there? For how long? The questions kept revolving in that little Ferris wheel in the back of my head, as I looked down from the Aero Mexico jet speeding over the southern tip of Florida towards the Gulf of Mexico. A couple of hours after sighting one of America's natural wonders, the Everglades, I was struck by another sight that I was not prepared for: an enormous snow-capped volcano, dwarfing the valleys, hills, towns and cities that it towers over. While I'm still impressed by that awesome sight, by the time I would sit down to put this story together, I 'd be more impressed by another natural wonder that can also found in Mexico: Mr. William Anthony Colón Román, better known to us as Willie Colón.

 In a fast three days and nights, I would come to know and understand the answers to my initial questions. They were answered with clarity and wisdom, by a musical genius known to all in Mexico as Maestro, a well-earned title that is not loosely offered by the people of Latin America and the Caribbean. But Willie Colón is about the people, which is what he has in common with other great singer-composers like Rafael Hernández, Marco Antonio Muñiz, Bobby Capó, Armando Manzanero, Agustín Lara and Joan Manuel Serrat, who all lived in Mexico, at least for a while. They’re also known for walking the streets of their cities gathering inspiration, while keeping in touch with the people that their songs were written for.

 After a hard landing (caused by the high altitude and thin air under the wings), followed by a pleasant customs and immigration experience, I was surprised to find an escort waiting to take me to my hotel, the Camino Real, which turned out to be one of the best hotels that I've had the pleasure to stay in. The place is huge, somewhat reminiscent of the Great Gorge Resort that Hefner used to own in the heyday of his Playboy Empire.

 I was later met by Willie, who for security reasons, makes his way around town in a full-size SUV that makes the Volkswagen bug taxis that buzz around it look like a Hot Wheels collection. We start an early weekend with a delicious dinner at Willie's favorite Italian eatery, La Botiglia, where his handsome sons and loyal assistant, Ernesto Hernández, join us. Before dinner is served, Willie tells us about his life in Mexico City: "I love it here. The people are so sincerely polite. This is an ancient culture. Here, they have cultivated the art of how to get along. Imagine, twenty-five million people in one large city. It had to take centuries, but they did it". He then spots my pocket digital camera and says: "How about a picture?" 

 After dinner, we pile into Willie's SUV. As we travel through an incredibly vast city, he casually mentions that during the coming weekend, he'll be performing two shows at La Maraka, the oldest salsa club in the city: "The place and I go back a ways. I first performed there in '73, with the Fania All-Stars. They treat me like the King". The two shows are being heavily promoted on the Mexico City salsa station, La Sabrosita and Willie is excited. "I'm scheduled for a morning live interview. On Friday night, they're doing a live feed from my dressing room, before I go on. Next Tuesday, the prime time show will be all about my music with another live interview". I smile, trying not to outright grin, but I can barely conceal my excitement at the prospect of seeing Willie live and not just once. 

 Arriving at a TV Producer's office, we are greeted by the genial and pleasant gentleman that is producing a new TV show for Willie, Alfredo De La Lama. We are escorted to the viewing room and video is cued up. The lamps are lowered and the screen lights up. The scene is uncut. During the presentation, the producer makes comments about what we are watching. The production values are quite good. The actors are top notch and Willie comes across as his natural self. The comedy scenes produce laughter from the boys. When it ends, all eyes are on Willie. He is pleased with the results. He recommends some changes and asks: "Do you guys have a button on that console that will make me look like I did when I made my film debut?” This is a side of Willie that most of his music fans know little about. Willie has been an actor for quite sometime, appearing in films, novelas and TV shows. His personality is suited for such work. When the session is over, we head over to the Camino Real, where I am safely delivered for a good night's sleep.

The next morning, Willie calls from La Sabrosita, where he's just done a long interview. He soon picks me up and we head out into the streets of Mexico City. As we travel down Boulevard de la Reforma, I'm awestruck by all the enormous fountains, statues and monuments. Willie waves his hand at one and indicates: "Everywhere you go there is culture." As we travel through wide boulevards, laden with beautiful and massive art forms, he describes several. At a stoplight, a street vendor politely shows up at my window. He's selling a ten-part series on Mexican history, for about ten U.S. dollars. Willie picks it up. He says: "I bet you don't see stuff like this on the streets of San Juan. Knowledge about history is of extreme importance to the Mexican people; it's what guarantees their cultural and political independence. Mexico has its problems, but they are justifiably fierce and zealous about their independence. Their national anthem calls every son of Mexico a soldier for the motherland. In this particular aspect, some South American and Caribbean countries could learn from them".  

 We drive to a higher and newer part of the city, Bosques de Las Lomas. I mention to Willie that it resembles parts of Malibu, Bel Air and even Coral Gables. We arrive at a quiet, tree-lined street, filled with spacious homes and ivy-covered walls. Willie's home is beautiful. The central courtyard contains a spa and pool. Willie's office is across from the main house and the lower levels contain a sauna and other amenities. What's best is the view of the mountains. In Mexico, once you think you've seen the biggest mountain, another one pops into view. "This is a great home", Willie says, "We sometimes miss our home in New York, but since we get to go back frequently, it's not so bad". 

 As we sit, the years rewind. We recall how we first met in '70, when I was working with the Summer Arts in the City program, putting on plays and concerts in the streets of New York, on the back of a pop-out stage truck. Willie, Hector LaVoe and the guys were the featured band. We talk about music, films, history and politics. 

 Willie then turns to a subject that is very important to him. His eyes sparkle, as he talks about a possible run for political office: "There are serious issues in New York that are being ignored or glossed over. Many of them affect our people. When I ran for Congress, it became apparent to me that most of the New York Latino leaders are too quick to compromise when they could get us a better deal. I've been in business for a long time. After being just an entertainer, I learned that if you don't also become an astute businessman, your money goes elsewhere, sometimes even before the gig is over. I quickly changed that and basically, that's what needs to be done in New York. I want to help make sure that our percentage is a fair one and that it winds up where it's supposed. I want to see all New Yorkers get a good deal. Not just proclamations, platitudes, parades and plaques, show-off seats on placid Councils or Commissions, or any of that ego-power stuff. That doesn't put food on the table or computers in schools. A good leader should go everywhere and look into the eyes of the people, then go back to the Capitol and make sure that they get what their communities really need".  

 We then talk about Island issues, including Vieques. Unlike other artists, who stayed away until it was deemed fashionable, Willie visited Vieques Island during the height of the protests, causing several legislators to boycott an award ceremony for him at the Puerto Rican Capitol building. We also spoke about the political blacklisting of artists in some parts of the Latino media. Willie has strong opinions about those and other important issues, which he discusses frequently in his online forum, an extension of his popular website, WillieColon.com. We also talk about future gigs and other things on the horizon. Then the conversation turns to the Web. Willie is an early PC owner. He says: "I've been on the 'net way long before Windows arrived." As I look at my watch and realize that it's close to dinnertime, the housekeeper announces that it's on the table. While I'm wondering if this was merely a coincidence or some Aztec mind trick, Willie and his sons lead the way to the dining room. 

 After dinner, Willie and I remain at the table and talk music. I ask him what's new. He enthusiastically responds that he has several projects in the works and previews some of it for me. He then puts me on the spot, asking me which of his songs I like. I pass the test by quickly rattling off a list: Asia, Falta de Consideración, Ah Ah, Oh No, Sin Poderte Hablar and Contrabando.  I seem to get extra points for saying what I like about each one. I tell him that I had tried to buy Demasiado Corazón at a Condado Music Store, but they were sold out. He hands me a copy. We both realize that it's getting late. Everyone has to get ready for the first gig, scheduled for 12:30 A.M. As I head back to the Camino Real, I strike up a conversation with the driver, who floors me with his response when I ask him about Oscar de la Hoya: "He's from Puerto Rico, isn't he?” Oh well, now that Oscar's made a CD, he may get the recognition and respect that he deserves, in the land of Moctezuma, Villa and Chavez. He might even become as famous and loved in Mexico as is Colón. 

 We arrive at La Maraka around midnight. The street is empty. Willie wonders if there's anybody inside. As we turn a corner, I point to an overflowing parking lot. As we make our way towards the entrance, people start to notice Willie's presence: "Hola, Willie Colón; Hola, Maestro; Señor Colón, buenas noches", begins to fill the quiet of the street. We pick up a group of fans that escort us through the lobby, until we reach the backstage area. Entering with the group, I'm challenged by one of the larger security men. Willie says: "He's O.K.", the security man says to me: "Get a stage pass". Soon, I'm handed one, which I quickly hang around my neck. After greeting the Empresario, the club manager and others, Willie settles in his dressing room and begins a live pre-show interview to La Sabrosita. The two-story club is wall-to-wall people. The upper level, which contains two additional dance floors, is also packed. At a nod from Willie, everybody files out of the dressing room. It's time to leave the Maestro alone, to warm-up the horns and to tune his voice. As I head for the door, Willie says: "Stay. I can do this with you here." 

 He picks up the horn and out come very famous notes, the intro to Idilio. Between warm-ups, Willie tells me about some of the strange and funny things that have happened to him during concerts and club gigs. I ask him why he once thanked boxing champ Roberto Durán for his help during a Miami appearance. He says: "I had just done a gig in New York City, where this jerk in the audience was being disruptive. Let's just say that when I decided to settle the guy down, Roberto was there to lend a hand or two". He starts relating another experience, when we hear a huge roar and the announcer's voice introducing him. 

 The stage front is packed with fans. Security is everywhere. I'm standing on the left wing of the stage, along with Ernesto. The band begins the opening to Contrabando. Willie hits the stage and shakes hands with some of the fans. Pandemonium breaks out. A young male fan tries to climb up on stage, but security sends him back. When Willie begins to sing, the crowd goes crazy. He looks back at me and gives a smile and a thumbs-up. Before the song is over, the male fan makes it up to the stage, but security responds quickly. Before the set is over, the fan manages to get back on and is grabbed by security. Willie asks the young man what he wants. He points to his girl, who is holding a camera. Willie asks the four security men to let him go. He puts his arm around him and points to the camera, which flashes along with several dozen more. The crowd responds with roaring applause and cheers. Willie tells the crowd that he loves them, but that it would be safer if they did not come on stage while he's trying to please them with his songs. He then promises to do some autographs and pictures after the show. The crowd jumps and screams, but soon settles down.

 The next two hours fly by. The ever-changing lights cast surreal shadows on the stage. Standing on stage, one feels part of the whole scene, it's hard not to swing and sing Coro, especially when the back-up singers are smiling with you as you do it. Willie catches me singing, smiles and begins to clap. I then realize that one of my life’s secret wishes just came true: I just got to sing Coro with Willie Colón!  

 Seeing the unspoken interaction between Willie and the band is amazing. An energy wave emanates from Willie, spreads to the rest of the band and then envelops the entire audience. The spell is contagious. The heat and the smoke add to the dream-like scene. I walk through the entire club to see the dancers, the people sitting at the tables and the people standing at the balcony railings. The spell reaches to the far corners. I go to front stage and stand with the swooning fans that are constantly telling Willie that they love him or asking for a particular song. Others are simply content to sing with Willie. They know every word of every song. Being in the middle of this crowd, is like watching a Santeria session. Man, these people are hooked and loving every minute of it! 

 When the final song is over, Willie says goodnight and is rapidly escorted to the dressing room. I tell him how great it was for the crowd. He says: "Yeah, but a couple of things need to be changed, so that tomorrow night, we can do it even better." For the next hour, Willie has his picture taken with dozens of fans and meets several people who want to talk to him. Producer Alfredo De La Lama shows up with his sister and her husband. He wants us to join him for a nightcap at this great club. Willie politely turns him down, explaining that he has to work again on the following night. He later turns to me and says: "When I have two-night gigs, I can't do that getting home in the daylight thing, it's murder on my throat. Let's get a bite to eat." 

 It's after 4 A.M. and we head to the Camino Real, which has a great 24/7 restaurant. When we arrive, the place is empty. The hostess tells us that they are serving breakfast. When Willie asks if it would be possible to get a hamburger, the cook comes out of the kitchen to personally provide the answer: "For you, Señor Colón, yes!”  Ernesto decides not to join us, he's got several things to handle later in the morning. While we wait for our food, I show him some the pictures taken during the night. He likes the one that was taken of the two of us and asks me to email it to his office. During the meal, Willie and I relate personal anecdotes, some of them about common friends and acquaintances. I tell Willie my personal reason for liking Falta de Consideración and he tells me his personal reason for writing it. We laugh and mutually promise not to tell anyone. When the meal is over, I realize that Willie has just enough time to make it back to Bosques de Las Lomas, before sunrise. He laughs, when I say: "We sound like after-hour joint vampires, you know." We recall the after-hour joints in our old neighborhoods and of how when the door would open, everyone would turn away from the daylight, just like vampires. As he drives away, I walk back to my room thinking that in a few hours, it will be time to return to La Maraka.

 On the second night, the impossible happens. Willie and his band, Legal Alien, outdo the previous night's performance. Willie hits the stage at 2:30 A.M., to face an even larger audience. A teen-age female fan makes a record four attempts to kiss Willie, before she is finally removed by security. Salsa pours from the stage to every corner of La Maraka. Even the stone-faced security guys start moving to the rhythm. Backstage, everyone is dancing, clapping, singing Coro and smiling. Being present at a Willie Colón performance is like watching a freight train rush through a two-street town in the middle of the night. Before we know it, Willie makes his exit from the stage after a fifteen-minute encore of Gitana. Everyone slowly begins to come out of the Legal Alien abduction trance.

 Just as on the previous night, fans line up for pictures and autographs, but the late hour makes it impossible to get to the many fans. As we leave La Maraka, Willie followed by a contingent of fast-moving fans, determined to get his picture, an autograph, or a piece of his coat. Security quickly surrounds his SUV. A female fan makes it to Willie's door. She is insistent and almost begins to cry. She pleads that the autograph is for her husband, who is a bigger fan but could not make it. Willie spends a few minutes getting her husband's name and writing him a brief message. 

 Willie's SUV cuts a wake through the early-morning fog. He graciously offers to drive me to the airport for my flight home. But I can tell that he's tired. He also has one of his sons with him who brought along some new fans. I suggest that he drop me at El Camino Real. He thanks me for my consideration. I thank him for the entire weekend. As I sit in front of the airport departure gate, the sun begins to rise over the ring of mountains that surrounds the high city. I quickly place sunglasses over my eyes, close them and smile like the after-hours salsa vampire that I've become, if only for one more night. Later, as the jet zips by the huge volcano, the passenger in my seat is sound asleep, filled with the satisfaction of having seen some of the best wonders of nature that, for now, can only be found in Mexico.