La Niña de los Peines
Biography, discography, RealAudio and readers' comments.

"La Niña de los Peines en la Casa de los Pavón"
Review of the book by Luis Clemente.

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La Niña de los Peines

Excerpt from the book: "La Niña de los Peines" by Manolo Bohorquez. Published by Signatura Ediciones.

CHAPTER II

A star's first steps

Although on occasion it has been pointed out that Pastora Pavón's family had a great flamenco tradition, this is something that cannot be demonstrated. Arturo Pavón, the pianist, son of the singer's eldest brother, commented at one time that they were related to the Pelao family of Triana, excellent singers, they were especially great tonás singers, although they were not professionals. The most famous of all was Juan el Pelao, who was a martinete singer of great quality and even today there are still people who become overwhelmed with emotion whenever they hear his name on the Altozano or in the Cava de los Gitanos.

Manuel Yerga Lancharro, well-known flamencologist and, by his own account, a personal friend of la Niña de los Peines, maintained, in issue no. 67 of Sevilla Flamenca that the cantaora had recorded some tangos of her grandparents Tomás and Rosario; in other words, of her maternal grandfather and paternal grandmother. It's very possible, since there is some mention of their having sung, as there is of her mother, father and other relatives. Towards the end of the XIX century it was very difficult to find gypsies in the provinces of Seville and Cádiz who didn't know how to sing.

What is clear is that Arturo was the first professional of this family, as we shall see in a later chapter. In fact, when Pastora began to be known in Seville's flamenco circles, they called her "Arturo's sister", according to her own testimony:

My real name is Pastora Pavón Cruz, I was born in Seville forty-three years ago, at Valle Street, 19, and I'm a gypsy like all the rest of my family. I made my debut by chance, or more precisely, I was 'volunteered', in a tent at the Seville fair, where my brother Arturo, who you have right here, was singing, sitting in for him one day when he had had a bit too much to drink. This circumstance tended to come up so often, that I decided to begin being famous. I was eight years old at the time, in other words, that was all of thirty-five years ago.

Why do they call me la Niña de los Peines? Well, it was just something that happened, against my wishes, because I was singing a style to which I had given a personal twist. It was a kind of "Tanguito", the "Tanguito de los peines", a rendition of a popular song I had heard a blind man sing in Pilas (Seville) when I was small. It wasn't a very flamenco style, and I soon let it go. That's why, because of this song, I don't like my nickname; I like my own original name better, the one that people have wiped out, to forever call me la Niña de los Peines.

My formal debut as flamenco singer, and as la Niña de los Peines, was back in the first year of this century, in Madrid, in the Café del Brillante, hearing night after night the best, solid cante (This is how she refers to truly good cante done with style, notes the journalist). So in this café there we were, Manuel Torres, one of the most unforgettable stars of the flamenco song and way of life; Chacón (Don Antonio), a singer in whose memory you must take your hat off. In those days I earned four duros. Don Antonio Chacón earned six, and he was the one who made the most. Two years later, I was hired to go to Jerez, making eight duros daily; more than Chacón, much to the dismay of the stars. I stayed in Jerez a long time in La Primera de Jerez, the most famous and prestigious club in the world; a place which at that time was the real mecca for solid cante, soleares, seguirillas gitanas, bulerías, everything that will have disappeared twenty years hence since there won't be any more flamenco singers, if God doesn't put a stop to this.

Pastora made these declarations in Barcelona to the journalist Ernest Guasp on July 19th, 1934 in the magazine Revista Mirador. They are of great value since they provide much data about her beginnings. Nine years earlier, in November, 1925, she was also asked about her background on the theater page of the Heraldo de Madrid and she gave other very interesting information:

- "I began singin'" when I was just a kid: when I was nine.
- In Seville?
- Yeah, in my town, in "Seviya". Down around the Alameda there are these "little cafés", know what I mean?, and in those cafés, well, I got going. Later on we came to "Madrí" and I was singing in the café the Brillante, which was on Montera Street, uptown, but an aunt of mine died here and then we headed for Bilbao to go for broke... you bet... go for broke, since I had this little thing, that I could sing, 'cause we were in a bad way, know what I mean?... But in Bilbao they didn't let me work, since I was such a kid, and I had to work as an artist's model. Later on, Don Ignacio sent us money so we could get back to "Madrí". So I sang in "Madrí". After that I hit the provinces. And since then I've been back to "Madrí" tons of times.

And that's how it was, Pastora started singing when only a child of eight, and she did it out of economic necessity. The first time was to substitute for her brother Arturo, who aside from liking his wine from a very young age, as she herself said, had been having problems with his voice ever since puberty. They were suffering economic hardship at home, since her father worked little as the result of having had an accident while working on the construction of a bridge in Mérida, so her mother decided to try her luck with Pastorcita, who was already delighting friends and relatives at home, at the family's fiestas. 'If you do it at home, why not go and do it at a tablao?' Pastora la de Calilo must have asked herself.

Thus she began to sing in Ceferino's bar which was in El Perneo in Puerta Osario, near the present site of the Municipal Laboratory. In that place began the artistic career of the most celebrated cantaora of all time. And her exploitation, for she had to work a great deal, being only a girl; on occasion, from what I've heard from some relatives, you would see her sleeping on a chair in a fair tent while waiting for her turn to entertain the rich dandies.

CHAPTER III

"La Niña" appears the the Seville newspapers

Until April, 1908 the name of our star didn't appear in the Sevillian press, which was searched with a fine-tooth comb by José Luis Ortiz Nuevo, who is to be thanked for many of the news articles that come up in this chapter on Pastora's early phase, and many of which were not uncovered until now. El Noticiero Sevillano of the 27th of this month caused a stir with the announcement of a big fiesta in the Eslava Theater in which the artist took part along with celebrated performers. It was a party in honor of regional groups, and was more than amply covered by this Seville newspaper and by El Liberal. Since both reports are very extensive, we shall only reproduce an excerpt:

In this part Pastora Barrio, La Niña de los Peines and Luis López sang malagueñas accompanied by Juan Gandulla, Habichuela. Young Medina also sang in this part, giving a much-appreciated demonstration of his fine style. At the audience's request he sang garrotín and jota, which he was thoughtful enough to dedicate to the Aragonese. The latter applauded enthusiastically, and frenetically cheered their homeland. Then there was a fifteen minute intermission after which La Macarrona and La Coquinera danced group sevillanas, La Macarena, Peteneras, Panderos, Malagueñas and jaleo. After finishing her dance the audience asked La Macarrona to dance a tango, which she immeidiately did with grace and verve, receiving much applause. Afterwards the singers Medina and Luis López, "El Niño de las Marianas" sang malagueñas and tangos, and the latter was warmly applauded when he sang "Las Marianas". The singer Medina sang jotas once again getting the audience worked up. The Catalonians excitedly acclaimed Seville, Catalonia, and Spain. The festival ended with group seguidillas danced without castanets.

On the following day El Liberal also published an extensive report about this Andalusian festival particularly mentioning José Medina and Niña de los Peines. Unlike the previous article, in this one there was no confusion between Pavón and Barrio when the gypsy artist was named.

Habichuela, a true maestro of the guitar, played, admirably, as always, and Pastora Pavón "La Niña de los Peines", José Medina and Luis López "El Niño de las Marianas" delighted the audience with their singing. La Niña de los Peines is today considered the best singer of tangos. She has a beautiful voice and an appealing style. There are moments during her singing that she appears to be groaning and crying, acheiving wonderful effects. Medina was another of the afternoon's heroes. He executed intricate filigrees singing malagueñas, garrotín, and, at the audience's insistence, jotas and guajiras. The Aragonese stood up and applauded enthusiastically each time a jota was sung. It was a good afternoon for Medina.

Seville's upper crust society of that day wasn't quite ready for flamenco but they enjoyed it whenever they felt in the mood. And in nearly all the fiestas that were given for important personalities, there was la Niña de los Peines, who by the age of eighteen was already an established celebrity, and the idol of hundreds of aficionados. On July 20th, 1909 El Noticiero Sevillano reported on a big Andalusian festival in which she shared the stage with Don Antonio Chacon, one of her most admired maestros:

Last night in the fair tent of the Círculo de Labradores in the Prado de San Sebastián, several members treated distinguished families of Seville's high society to an Andalusian fiesta. One dance teacher and three of her students opened the fiesta with gay dances. Afterwards Chacón sang malagueñas with great style, accompanied on the guitar by a well-known guitarist, and "La Niña de los Peines sang some tangos which were much applauded. Right after that the typical chocolate and fritters were served, the actual motif of the occasion, and lastly, when the flamenco artists went off stage, the lovely Salud Franco gave in to the repeated petitions of those present, and sang some granadinas, guajiras, jotas, and soleares, with admirable perfection and delicacy.

Translation: Estela Zatania

Book review by Luis Clemente

 
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