First it was a personal delivery that took me by surprise. Someone I saw often at the milonga walked up to me and handed me a check. Then, more checks began arriving in the mailbox, and more checks were in the mail. It dawnwd on me that by renewing their subscriptions, many people were saying, “Bravo, Keep it up, Vamos todavia, Eso, ” and other terms of encouragement that brought memories about the first time I walked into now defunct Chez Louis in Palo Alto, CA and coyly handed Polo Milonguita the first issue of El Firulete.
Fresh out of the 1994 Stanford Tango Week I was witnessing some disturbing trends in the way the business of tango was heading. So many were now coming into the scene looking for guidance and information about places to go, people to see, how to find out more this alluring ritual that seems to bring people together in a sensual embrace to the foreign sound of strange instruments.
It has been difficult for some expatriates to understand the appeal that this music and its dance have on people so far removed culturally and physically from Buenos Aires. But 1994 was a year of transition, the end of some wrong beginnings and the beginning of of a journey to the end.
In August of 1994 I already had a solid year of stumbling on the dance floor, and my earlier three years broadcasting tangos in the San Francisco Bay Area suddenly began to make sense long after the microphone went silent. Sitting alone inside a glass studio in the middle of the night was a one way communication where I shared many tango experiences with many unknown listeners on the other end of the radio.
Sitting at the computer, I wanted to share my lucky birthplace and upbringing. I wanted to believe that there was a story to be told even when I had never met a guapo and I never smelled a hollyhock. But I heard tangos in my parents home. Since very young I heard the voice of Gardel. While I did my homework I might have even sung duets with him.
Writing about tango became a two way communication because those reading reacted positively making me respect all those “foreigners” and close native friends for embracing El Firulete so passionately. Life has those funky moments. When the notes from people telling me that they didn’t want to miss their issues of El Firulete, I was filled with feelings of gratitude for those who were there from the beginning. For those who came later. for everyone who promptly began renewing their subscriptions.
Above all I was grateful for the excitement, the inspiration, and the balance that Valorie brought to El Firulete and to my life, setting the highest standard of excellence for a publication about tango that we do it x2
