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Puente Shaped a Young Man's Identity and Changed the World By IBRAHIM GONZALEZ
Tito Puente means all that and more to those of us who are as familiar with the sound and flavor of his music as we are with mamita's sofrito sizzling on the stove. My earliest recollections include the classic RCA recordings of Puente's Latin-Jazz Big Band music, layers of orchestration driven by Afro-Cuban percussion. A music so compelling that as a 4-year-old, I would dance for hours at a time in my family's living room, spinning to the spiraling horns, jumping to the staccato piano and bass riffs and cutting loose when the rhythm would explode and the instrumental solos would soar above the waves of harmony and spirited pulse. In the early 60s, I remember going with my folks to hear Tito and the band at Central Park's Harlem Meer. Entire families from Harlem and East Harlem would come out and spread picnic blankets on the grassy areas surrounding the lake -- a wildly diverse neighborhood representation of blacks, Puerto Ricans, Italians and Jews who all loved Tito and the music he played. No matter how big or small a concert, Tito always connected with the audience. In the early 70s, El Museo del Barrio sponsored a Tito Puente concert at the Eagle Theatre, one of our local movie houses in East Harlem. It was a free community concert, but the house was not even half full. As I sat there watching Tito, visibly preoccupied, but still cool and in command (the band's pianist hadn't shown up), I thought to myself, "The neighborhood must be asleep. This is Tito Puente, the place should be packed up to the balcony!" Well, it was time to start the show. Tito stepped out from behind his timbales, walked over to the piano, sat down behind the rented grand, and proceeded to conduct the orchestra and play the 88's flawlessly throughout the entire concert. We were all blown away, and hey, we may have been a small audience, but we sure did rock the house to the rafters. My next Tito Puente encounter was the following year at City College. I decided to attend CCNY where Charlie Palmieri directed the Latin Ensemble. I would later find out that Charlie was one of Tito's dearest and closest friends. Professor Palmieri called me over to the piano to play the next rehearsal selection. I took a look at the stack of seven-note, two-fisted chords written on the grand staff and before I could figure out the syncopated rhythmic figures, Charlie sensed that I was in over my freshman head. He had me slide over on the bench so that I could watch his burly hands at work on the ivories. And when the piano intro began, right from the very first chord, I recognized the riff: Oye Como Va... I looked up at the song title on the music sheet to make sure my ears and eyes were on the same page. Alright! Prepared with a full music education from "The Poor Man's Harvard," I went to work at Peermusic. Tito Puente had a considerable number of his compositions signed on with this publisher, and from time to time I would be on the phone with Mr. Puente discussing business and meeting backstage at the Village Gate's Salsa Meets Jazz concerts. His manner was always cordial, gentlemanly, humorous and, despite my initial nervousness of speaking with The King, he put me at ease right from the start. Tito made time for people. He genuinely cared about helping young people in education and music. Another colleague of Puente, virtuoso pianist Marco Rizo had hired me as his assistant in the South American Music Project, an educational not-for-profit organization which he and Desi Arnaz founded with the intent of teaching kids about our music and culture. The instruments, purchased at the outset of the project, well over 20 years ago, were falling apart. We needed to replenish the supply of claves, maracas, guiros and congas. I suggested to Maestro Rizo that we contact Tito to ask for his help. I got up the nerve to give Tito a call at home. His family entertained my calls graciously, not in any way feeling put upon (something which speaks volumes to their sense of hospitality -- behind this great man, is a great family!). Well, Tito was delighted to endorse our project to Latin Percussion. After he put a call through to Marty Cohen, the company's owner, presto, LP had us pick up a donated set of instruments to carry on the work of teaching kids music in NYC and beyond. I paid my respects to Tito and his family at the Riverside Chapel on a calm Monday afternoon. His funeral tastefully arranged, open casket with glass covering, Tito Puente elegant in a gray suit, laid to rest with a pair of his timbale sticks tightly tucked next to him. I have benefited from Tito Puente's greatness in ways which reach deep into my sense of identity. But on a broader level, for us Nuyoricans who continue to struggle to build our pueblo away from our little Caribbean Island, Tito Puente was our ambassador to the world, representing us with his wondrous talents, showmanship, comedic wit, magnetic personality and sense of humanity. Many people who wouldn't otherwise know about us Boricuas, have, because of him, looked to find Spanish Harlem and Puerto Rico on the map. And for as small a nation as Puerto Rico appears to be in the global scheme of things, our parade up Fifth Avenue of two million strong embraces all New Yorkers and makes them honorary Puerto Ricans for a day pretty much the way Tito Puente did for his audiences all over the world for the better part of a century. As I walked out of the chapel I couldn't help but recall the last time I had seen Tito at a funeral. It was that of our beloved Charlie Palmieri. I remember seeing Tito's face wet with the stream of tears. I saw that he really did love Charlie and would forever miss him as we who have been touched by our heroes will miss them. They are giants who are irreplaceable. They have left us with shoes much too big to fill. Ibrahim Gonzalez is an accomplished musician, photographer and radio producer. He lives in Norwood.
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Bill
Cosby, during the celebration of Tito Puente's 100th album, said it
as good as any home-grown Nuyorican could have: "Tito represents
the way we look, the way we walk, the way we speak..."