I'm very familiar with Danny Valdez. I became a fan late in his career. I was at the Olympic in the summer of '65, when he fought Pete Gonzalez and lost. His state title wasn't on the line, but these two guys put on a war. I would see them both, later in the evening, sitting side-by-side across the street at the old "Olympic Drive-in cafe". The two boxers were sitting at the counter, laughing, Valdez had one of the gloves he'd worn and was pressing it against the side of his swollen face. You could see the respect, friendship. An hour earlier, they were knocking the crap out of each other. It's something we who fight understand, inside the ring we fight to win, friend or not. We learn that in the Jr. Golden Gloves, where we are always fighting our friends. Between the first and last bell, we don't see a friend in front of us. Thanks for the info on Valdez, and the great story on the singer.kikibalt wrote:Rick...I knew "Chavez Ravine" real good before the Dodgers moved in. the barrio at the ravine was called "Palo's Verde", my wife's paternal side of the family lived in Palo's Verde, before I met Connie, as a young teenager I used to go to partys there, and at one party I met a girl that turned out be Connie's cousin, this girl and I had a thing going and you can imagine my surprise when after Connie and I had been married for about 5 years and at a famliy reunion on her father's side she introduce me to her cousin Annie, Annie died years ago...Rick Farris wrote:Great story, Frank! Something caught my eye at the end, about Ry Cooder finding her to sing on his album, "Chavez Ravine". I'm going to drift off this story for a moment to ask you, do you remember what Chavez Ravine was like prior to Walter O'Malley building Dodger Stadium? The Stadium opened and became home to the Dodgers in 1962. I have a friend, in his late 60's, who grew up there. The family was displaced when the bulldozers came to make room for the ball park.kikibalt wrote:Still going on
by soledadenmasa
I grew up listening to music in Spanish, mostly anything with a mariachi, banda, or conjunto norteño, never even hearing those “oldies” organic to Los Angeles. I’ve had a musical exploration reverse to many people my age or of previous generations. Many I know grew up listening to music in English and started to explore music from México or Latin America later in life (if they ever did), while I started to explore music in English when I was about fourteen. Even now, I mostly listen to and explore different music from México, but that’s due to me playing in mariachis for the past eight years.
Imagine my surprise yesterday when a post over at Guanabee came up on my RSS feed. I scour the internet for news relating to mariachi, especially this week, when the San José Mariachi and Latin Music Festival is on. [During mariachi festival time, new & interesting things come to light, like Rubén Fuentes, longtime former member and director of Mariachi Vargas de Tecalitlán (64 years and counting), and songwriter extraordinaire, gave an interview (he is very reclusive) and stated that the future of mariachi music was in the United States.] One of the festival’s concerts, last night’s, was headlined by Ersi Arvizu, a name I did not recognize. As I read on, however, it became clear I already knew who she was.
Some of her biography seems exceptional, yet refreshingly relatable:
Arvizu grew up in East L.A., on the other side of the bridge, in a neighborhood known by its ruling street gang’s name, Maravilla. At an early age, her mother, who struggled to keep her six children safe — which meant close-by – taught her and her brothers and sisters how to play guitar and blend their voices singing. “Mostly ranchera and mariachi style,” Arvizu remembers. “We would go to parties to sing and I could remember that my feet didn’t even hit the ground. But I was always wanting to rush through the song so I can go out to play – dodge ball, kick the can, football with the guys.” Eventually they were singing before fights at the Olympic Auditorium, the stage, at show’s conclusion, littered with money — bills and coins. By high school, three of the sisters – Ersi and her siblings Rosella and Mary – would eventually become known beyond the borders of East L.A. “The Sisters” singing at dances at the El Monte Legion Stadium or the Paramount Ballroom or afternoon parties around East L.A.
Her father trained boxers in their backyard and she would at times watch them practice. She even boxed a few times after her musical career ended in the 70s. For those who care, she had four knockouts.
After performing in a string of ensembles post-The Sisters – a series of garage bands and then a spot singing with a band called the Village Callers, Arvizu was lured away to a group called, the V.I.P.s who would soon come to be known as El Chicano. Ersi sang on the band’s second, non-instrumental album, “Revolucion” – which featured “Sabor a Mí” and “I’m a Good Woman,” both of which, in their own ways, evolved into Eastside anthems. But soon after, she parted ways with the band. “Too much drinking, too much drugs, too much, too much . . .” all around her. “I couldn’t take all of that.”
After reading this, I knew exactly who she was. Thousands of people, both young and old, had danced, kissed, fallen in love and enjoyed life to the smoothness of her voice in the past thirty years, yet her name had remained a complete unknown to me. After ending her musical career, she moved to Arizona and worked there for years, until a few years ago, Ry Cooder found her to sing in his album Chávez Ravine and later collaborated with her to record her recent album, Friend for Life.
Though I still prefer the Mariachi America version of “Sabor a mí” (because Arturo Vargas [lead singer in the video] is god), El Chicano’s sound and her voice are perfectly complementary and provide a soundtrack for far too many memories of Los Angeles.
Image taken from Ersi Arvizu’s MySpace page.
-Rick
Ersi Arvizu's dad, Art Arvizu was the manager/trainer of Danny Valdez, Danny fought Davey Moore for the FW title, Danny also fought Boots Monroe, Gil Cadilli, Dwight Hawkins et.al.
-Rick
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