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Interview with Toni el Pelao
& Uchi, bailaors
A dynasty's last link
Silvia Calado Olivo. Madrid, March 2003
Photos: Daniel Muñoz
Translation: Joseph Kopec
The source which several generations of bailaors have drunk from is still
flowing. Toni el Pelao is, together with the bailaora Uchi -his partner for more
than four decades-, the last link of the dynasty that made the farruca its dance
and its trademark. El Gato, Faíco, Juan el Pelao... are figures that have
gone down in flamenco history as creators, instigators and keepers of a unique
and perhaps one-and-only style, despite being so plagiarized. From the Madrilenian
tablao Torres Bermejas, where they still have their headquarters, they long for
those times when the genre's quintessence gathered at the tablao, but value its
gradual consolidation on the stages of cult music. They value the development
of technique, but long for (and claim) flamencura, that legacy they are
trying to bequeath to their pupils, for want of artistic offspring.
Toni el Pelao
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The family tree's roots are sunk in Jerez, where they set out for Madrid on
an inexact date in the late 19th century. As Toni el Pelao, the family's current
patriarch, explains, "the dynasty of Los
Pelaos comes from my uncle El Gato (Antonio Manzano Heredia), who was the
first farruquero. He was the one who brought out the farruca as a dance for the
first time. Next it was my father, Juan el Pelao (Juan Manzano Heredia), who took
care of exporting it on his tours with Pastora Imperio - who was his artistic
partner -, with Concha Piquer in 'Las calles de Cádiz', with Lola Flores,
with Manolo Caracol, with Antoñita Moreno, with Valderrama... He made himself
one of the top names for thirty-five years with the farruca". He was accompanied
in said exploit by his brothers Faíco, Fati and El Abogaíto (The
Little Lawyer) - a nickname given to Juan Antonio by Pilar López because
he was the only one who knew how to sign the contracts - and they, at the same
time, were succeeded by "my cousin Ricardo, my cousin... and me, and I'm
currently in charge of the dynasty".
Antonio Manzano Bermúdez faces, at more than sixty years of age, the
responsibility of maintaining the school: "I'm going to defend it until I
die, since there are no descendants; my kin have not turned out to be artists".
María Luisa Martín García, Uchi, his professional and personal
partner for forty years, details that "their are two or three of Faíco's
grandchildren that do some things as well, but not professionally". And she
emphasizes her refusal for their children to follow in their parents' footsteps:
"Flamenco is nice when you see it on stage, but it's a very hard life with
a lot of sacrifice. I don't know if so much effort is worthwhile".
The legacy remains with the students. In fact, it has already been noted in
pupils such as Javier Barón, whose first flamenco maestro was Toni, and
in figures such as Joaquín Cortés. And there is proof of it in the
following anecdote. "When we were teaching classes in El Horno, Joaquín
Cortés was with a dancer who when watching a video of me dancing the farruca
asked: "Who is that?" And he answered: "That bailaor from the Los
Pelaos dynasty is the source we are all drinking from". I told him: "Thanks,
Joaquín". And he answered that it was the truth. "It's not a
question of us doing the farruca better than anybody; each person has his own
style, but we do it differently. Sara Baras, for example, dances it marvelously
but...".
However, those who have most faithfully assimilated Los Pelaos' farruca and
have achieved the greatest success with this dance have been the generation contemporary
to Toni: "Pilar López and Antonio Gades buttered up my uncle El Gato
and paid him a lot of money for him to do the farruca for them. They came eighty
times to get us drunk so that we'd do our dance for them. Pilar López always
took things from Los Pelaos. She's alive and you can ask her... The hands, the
raising of the arms, the llamada (calling) and the marcaje (marking)
aren't done by anyone else, only by our dynasty". In the case of Manolete,
who has made the farruca his mark, Toni affirms that "he got it from my father
because he was working with La Chunga and, as he himself recalls, without my father
seeing him, he got behind him and danced the same thing". Uchi elaborates
that "how many times has Manolete said "let's see that llamada,
Pelao, let's see that step"? Apart from us loving him a great deal because
he's a long-time colleague, he's not a revolutionary of the farruca at all".
What characterizes such a particular style? In the first place, Toni stresses
that "it's neither copied nor academic, since although I get the farruca
from my father and from my uncle El Gato, my father never taught me how to dance".
Curiously, "to none of them", explains the bailaora. Therefore, "we
all have our own personal style", but also a common gene: "You see a
Pelao dance and you recognize him immediately". Uchi, taking perspective,
describes that of Los Pelaos as a dance "from the waist up" with features
like "the way of raising the arms, something you don't see anymore. Now bailaors
move their hands a great deal; they look like women dancing. And it's very nice,
but it's different. You see Los Pelaos rise up in a way that they seem to grow.
They're unmistakable. And the father was lovely or maybe it's just because I'm
in love with this art".
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Uchi
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Forty-two years in love... María Luisa Martín García was
called on by Toni el Pelao when, after touring the world with La Chunga, he decided
to set up his own show in the mid sixties: "I hired her, we started to be
a pair in my own group and... We've been married for thirty-seven years and have
been together for five more". As Uchi points out jokingly, "artistically,
we've been together all our lives, the thing is that he's the only one you see,
but I've always been there".
Uchi, sister of the also Madrilenian bailaora La Polilla, started dancing with
Rafael de la Cruz, who took her to work in Paris, although she was also trained
by Frasquillo's wife, by La Kika and in ballet by Victoria Piquer. Later on, she
joined the staffs of tablaos in Madrid such as Las Cuevas de Nemesio, Las Brujas
and Torres Bermejas, until she engaged in her partner's troupe, which she alternated
with other contracts such as the Middle East tour with Gracita del Sacromonte.
Toni recalls that it was precisely in Las Cuevas de Nemesio where they celebrated
their wedding: "Since we didn't have money for a wedding reception hall...
We put a very big cake on the stage and with the seven thousand pesetas our friends
gave us, we paid for the banquet".
But let's go on with the artistic side. On Uchi's style of dancing, Toni comments
that "it changed completely when she began working with me. She went from
being an academy bailaora to being a flamenco bailaora". And she asserts:
"I started learning true flamenco, which is fundamental to me; it means everything.
Now I love to get flamenco out of people in the classes". Regarding the didactic
facet that both carry out at studios in Madrid, the capital... "Uchi tries
to teach them general flamenco and I have a group of students that I'm teaching
the farruca for the day I'm no longer here. I don't let them get by without it;
then they can do what they want. I'm teaching them my style so that it's still
there in the future". The maestra, however, is more flexible: "I don't
want to stop people from having their own style, what each one feels".
The tablaos: sunrise and sunset
Uchi and Toni el Pelao at Torres Bermejas
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Toni el Pelao and Uchi fully lived the golden age of the Madrilenian tablaos.
They coincided there with José Mercé, with Rancapino, with Paco
de Lucía, with Camarón de la Isla. The bailaora prods her husband
to tell how he introduced the cantaor from San Fernando into the circuit. And
Toni agrees: "He came with Miguel de los Reyes to a cabaret here when he
was about fifteen years old. Miguel was effeminate, and he apparently put his
hands on him". And he went elsewhere to try and make a living. "It was
the time when we used to stop at the cafeteria on Carretas Street...
-Excuse me sir, are you a gypsy?
-Pure.
-Look sir, I'd like you to be able to help me not economically, but to find a
job.
That night I took him to Las Cuevas de Nemesio and the representative told
me he was no good ("What a scoundrel!", exclaims Uchi). And the following
day, he was playing and singing, I took him to the office of Don Felipe, the owner
of Torres Bermejas...
-Look sir, I've brought this kid here, his name is Camarón de la Isla
and he sings and plays the guitar.
-I don't need a guitarist, but a cantaor... we'll have a look and see for the
staff. Have him come tonight and get on stage with the staff.
He was on the staff for two weeks, since when I débuted as a figure
at Torres Bermejas, I took him off the staff for him to sing for me, with Juan
Maya Marote and Juan Habichuela playing".
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