Jose Maria Velázquez

December 29, 1932 –

[The following text posted to Tango-L on January 19, 2007, and February 18, 2007, was my personal experience meeting Jose Maria Velazquez.]

I observed the dancing for more than an hour because I won’t dance with a man until I’ve seen him dance. Salon El Pial in Flores was a new milonga for me, although I have danced at the club many times with partners. It takes time to see who dances well. I wasn’t surprised to see three men I know from the downtown milongas there with partners, but I wouldn’t be dancing with any of them. Couples dance only with each other. That’s the way it is. When I thought I had found someone who seemed to dance well, I watched him walk off the floor to see where he was seated and if he sat with his partner. This process of elimination took time until I found the one man with whom I wanted to dance.

I watched him for several tandas. I wanted to see that he observed the line of dance, took care of his partner, and danced with the music. His salida and embrace confirmed for me that he was someone with whom I wanted to dance. The next step was letting him know that I wanted to dance with him. I saw that he was adept with the cabeceo, hardly moving his head at all. It was like radar zeroing in on a target.

I’ve learned patience. This was my test. I kept looking in his direction. He was seated near the entrance at the first table, so the organizer got him for the D’Arienzo valses. Just another opportunity to watch him on the floor. When they returned to the table, I got up to go to the ladies’ room, passing by his table. I returned and gave a clear signal that I was looking at him. When the Di Sarli tanda began, I knew that this was the moment of truth. He nodded, and I accepted. Another woman in front of me got up at the same time, so I waited to be sure that he was coming over to dance with me.

I immediately realized that we are the same height, although my 3-1/2 inch heels made me taller. He placed a handkerchief in his left hand to receive my right hand. He gave me a firm embrace. We danced as if we had danced together for years. We didn’t speak after the first dance. After the second, he said, “now I’m going to begin to dance.” At first, I didn’t understand what he was talking about. At the end of the tanda I knew what he meant. Our first two dances were an introduction–to see how I danced and responded to his lead. He danced simply and made me feel comfortable. All he said to me after the tanda was “sin palabras“–which meant “I’m speechless.”

I returned to my table to report to Juanita that I had found a gem. I didn’t want to dance with anyone else. I had found an excellent partner among the dozens of men in the club.

A few tandas later was Miguel Calo. Of course I wanted to dance with him again. A turn of my head in his direction and he tilted his head, as if to say, let’s go. I accepted.

He wanted to dance the cumbia tanda with me, but I wanted to save my energy for valses with him. When the Tanturi vals tanda began, it was as if we had made a previous arrangement to dance. His embrace made it easy for me to feel his every movement and to enjoy in the music.

Three terrific tandas. I didn’t need anymore. It was only 9:30, but I wanted to visit a friend at her home. He saw me leaving and got up from his table to speak to me. He said he was hoping to see me there on Sunday. I thanked him for the tandas and left.

Part Two of the story follows:

For the past four weeks, my place to dance Thursday and Sunday evenings has been a neighborhood club. Susana has organized a milonga for the past fourteen years. It has become my refuge from the hot summer temperatures where one enjoys great hospitality, good music, a spacious floor, and air-conditioning for a four- or five-peso entrada.

This is where I met Jose Maria for the first time. I’ve surprised myself by dancing exclusively with him for the past month, but it has been a pleasure. That hasn’t deterred other men from trying to invite me for a tanda. I’ve had to decline invitations from others. Jose Maria has done the same. We have this unspoken agreement to dance with each other for every tanda of tango and vals. One tanda with another man, and he’s gone. Argentine men are that way, and I’ve been here long enough to know it. Why would I want to lose the best dancer in the place? He has invited me for dinner after the milonga and walks me to the bus stop. We each travel a half-hour in opposite directions. Naturally, he’s telling everyone that we are novios. The milonga is a fantasy world, so he can fantasize all he wants. I have established the ground rules. We don’t sit at the same table in the milonga because we are not a couple, nor do we go dancing anywhere else together, least of all on Saturday night.

I can only imagine what the local women are saying about me, dancing every tanda, week after week, with Jose Maria. I’ve stolen a good dancer from the small pool of available men. And one who dances everything well.
____

I went to Salon El Pial on December 14, 2008, for the 16th anniversary of Susana’s milonga, but Jose Maria wasn’t there. I hope he hasn’t stopped dancing as is the case with many milongueros.

The Code of Respect

This is an experience I had a few years ago in Lo de Celia. There was a certain milonguero who knew me through his friend who was my partner for a few years. I looked in his direction at the beginning of several tandas. I knew that he saw me looking in his direction. He diverted his glance and invited others to dance. This went on for two hours or more until he finally nodded to me, and I accepted. After our first dance he told that he had never danced with me because I was his friend’s partner. He wanted to be certain that his friend and I were no longer together before he invited me.

Alito Candamil always shared a table in the milongas with Ricardo Vidort and Osvaldo Bottino. I danced regularly with Alito years ago, but never with Ricardo Vidort. Ricardo always greeted me, but it was years until he invited me to dance when he saw I wasn’t dancing with Alito and no longer with my partner.

Milongueros will observe the dancing before inviting someone to dance. That is so they can observe to determine if a woman whom they want to invite is dancing exclusively with one man. Three tandas with the same man is a public declaration that two people are together. Milongueros will not interfere with those who have a commitment, even though they are not seated together at the same table.

Milongueros are respectful of others, on and off the dance floor. On the floor, they carefully observe others to avoid collisions and dance in the space available. They have many years of experience on crowded floors when bumping into others meant being asked to leave the milonga. If there is a collision, a prompt acknowledgement–perdón–by the offender is made. 

Milongueros will never approach a woman at her table for conversation or an invitation to dance. The cabeceo can be used only if a woman looks in his direction. If she doesn’t make eye contact, he simply cannot invite her. If he nods and she turns her head indicating her rejection of his invitation, he will never invite her again. The dance begins with a mutual agreement that respects the woman’s right to choose the man with whom she wants to dance for ten minutes. A verbal invitation obligates a woman to either make an excuse or accept the invitation with someone she has no interest dancing.

Milongueros know that a couple seated together at the table are there to dance with one another. A milonguero will never interfere in their relationship. If a woman is seated with a man, she is making it clear to everyone that she is there to dance only with him.

P.S.  Hours after writing this post, I found what Carlos Alberto Estévez (better known as “Petróleo”) said on the subject: 

. . . cómo respetar a los ausentes; si éstos son amigos, no bailar con la compañera o mujer de los que no están; es corno una prueba de amistad.

No se baila con mujeres que tuvieron relaciones con asiduos a la milonga.

Respect those who are absent; if they are friends, don’t dance with the partner or woman of those who aren’t there–it’s a test of friendship.

Don’t dance with women who have relationships with regulars of the milonga.

Catalina Feldberg

December 20, 1938 –

She was known in the milongas as Greta.  She went every Saturday night to Club Juvenil until it closed in 2001.  There hasn’t been another milonga like it.  I filmed Greta dancing with milongueros.

One night several years ago in Lo de Celia, Alito asked if I had Greta’s telephone number.  I told him that I did.  He introduced me to Jorge who said that he wanted to call her.  They had known each other during their teenage years.  I checked first with Greta about giving her telephone to Jorge.  She said it was fine.  Later I heard more of the story.  Greta and Jorge knew each other when they were 16 and 19 years old.  They went their separate ways.  Greta married and had a family. After fifty years, Jorge called Greta.  They were reunited.  I took this photo of them on August 17, 2003, when they were in Lo de Celia.  They have been together ever since.

Pupy Castello

December 18, 1935–July 20, 2007

He was known as Pupy, but his name was Ernesto Norberto Castello.  I heard only recently from a milonguero who knew him that when Pupy was hospitalized during the last months of his life, he was teaching tango to the doctors and nurses at Hospital de las Clinicas.

This photo shows how Pupy was always ready for laughs.  He was dressed in his finest jacket and bowtie for the tango cruise during Nora’s week in 1998.  He picked up a plate and tossed a napkin over his sleeve.  I couldn’t resist taking this photo of him.

The Code of Silence

Years ago I danced with Alberto in Club Almagro. He told me he would see me in Salon Canning in a couple days. While seated at my table, I noticed Alberto’s friend with whom he always shared a table. I inquired if his friend knew where Alberto was. His friend didn’t know whom I was talking about. That seemed strange to me…at the time. I didn’t know then what I know now–that men rarely know one another’s names even though they regularly share a table at a milonga. Even if they do, they won’t say anything about another. This is a code of the milongueros–a code of silence.

Last month I saw a couple on Saturday at Lo de Celia whom I had not seen for years. As I left that night, I saw them outside. I introduced myself and we conversed for several minutes about the milongas. Saturday is when couples go to the milongas, so I assumed they are a couple. Then a few days ago I saw him at a milonga, but he wasn’t with her. Of course, I didn’t ask about her as our paths crossed leaving the floor. It was obvious he was there to dance with another woman.

A few days ago I encountered yet another milonguero whom I have not seen for years. Last month I had a visit with his partner at her home. He came to speak to me at my table since he was concerned that I would mention to her that I saw him at a milonga. I told him my lips are sealed. He commented that he was assured by another milonguero at his table that I would not talk with his partner about seeing him.

There is only one occasion in which I broke this code of silence. An American woman told me that her Argentine boyfriend didn’t go alone to the milongas. I had seen him only a few nights before at a milonga without her. I told her that I had seen him with a friend in a milonga.

Los codigos milongueros aren’t written down, but those who know them observe them. The code of silence is an important one to know.

De Milongas y milonguer@s

I attended the book presentation today in La Manzana de las Luces for De milongas y milongueros (with @ in place of “o” to signify the femenine and masculine forms) where many milonga organizers were present since they participated in interviews for the milonga chapter.  Leticia Maronese is the general secretary of the Commission for the Preservation of Historic Cultural Heritage of the Ministry of Culture for the city of Buenos Aires and author of the book.

As part of this project, they filmed interviews with people connected in various ways with tango and the milongas.   A 35-minute DVD was presented in the auditorium to an audience of 150.   It is an informative and interesting compilation of views from a cross section of people who know and love tango. 

This book and DVD project began in April 2008 and was completed in seven months after preliminary research.  Plans are to have the book and DVD translated for the English-speaking audience.  The book is 120 pages of text and photographs in paperback with the first run printing of 1,000 copies in Castellano.  My favorite photo is the one of Antonio Todaro dancing with Mingo Pugliese in Club Bristol.

Copies of the book and DVD were given to everyone in attendance at the presentation.  The Milonga chapter includes Alma de Bohemio in La Boca, A Puro Tango in Salon Canning, Club Gricel, Club Pedro Echagüe, Club Sin Rumbo, El Abrazo Tango Club, El Arranque, El Beso, Glorias Argentinas, La Glorieta, La Marshall, La Milonga del Indio, la Milonga de Susana in Salon El Pial, La Viruta, Lo de Celia, Niño Bien, Parakultural, Porteño y Bailarin, Sunderland Club, Tangocool, and Viejo Correo.

The book is available for purchase in the store on the main floor of the Casa de la Cultura on Avenida de Mayo 575 in January 2009, until all copies are sold.  At some future date, it will be available in English.   The book costs 25 pesos.  Unfortunately, the DVD is not being sold or subtitled in English.

Juan D’Arienzo

December 14, 1900 — January 14, 1976

We have him to thank for transforming the tango orchestra.  He was only 35 years old when he revolutionized tango by changing from 4/8 to 2/4 timing.  That change got young people dancing in the 1930s which lead to the golden era of tango in the 40s.  The height of his career was 1935-38, largely due to pianist Rodolfo Biaggi.  Some of D’Arienzo’s recordings include ten violinists.

Read a biographical and autobiographical sketch of this orchestra leader and violinist who we know as “King of the Beat” and who became the dance king of tango.  He knew young people wanted rhythm for dancing and gave it to them.

A milonguera . . .

Devotes time and attention to personal grooming and her clothes

Makes her entrance at the milonga as an actor does on stage

Observes the room and the floor before dancing

Selects a partner according to the orchestra and dance

Respects the codes of the milongueros

Dances for herself and her partner, simply and musically

Sits quietly and enjoys the music at her table

Converses briefly and privately with her partner between dances

Goes to a milonga to dance.

Milongueros on stage

Jorge Garcia, Gilda, Ada Peloso, jantango, Carlos Gavito, Miguel Angel Balbi, Dany's mom, Dany, Ricardo Maceiras, Stella Maris Hassan, Aura Tateossian, Lolo Garaban, Armando Giacovelli

Danza Maligna was presented for only one night on March 7, 2002, at Teatro Presidente Alvear on Corrientes before the performances in France.  This was a big night for the milongueros appearing on stage.  It was an open performance with many from the milongas in attendance.

Eduardo “El Nene” Masci, Ernesto “El Flaco Dany” Garcia , Ernesto Norberto “Pupy” Castello, and Jorge Manganelli learned choreography for the show with live orchestra.  The highlight of the night was seeing the curtain drop so that only the legs of Dany and his partner were in sight as they moved from one end of the stage to the other in one of the fastest milongas that Dany probably danced in his life, but then he was only 66 at the time. 

After the show, there happened to be a photographer ready to take this photo.

Rodolfo Brizuela

May 15, 1932 — ?

Rodolfo is another milonguero who has disappeared from the milongas.  He went to dance every Saturday night in Club Juvenil on Corrientes until it closed.  Then he went regularly to dance in Lo de Celia where I snapped this photo of him five years ago.  He always had a folded handkerchief in his left hand when he danced.  He lived outside the capital federal which meant he traveled an hour or more to dance.