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History of Tango Part 7 Origins of The O
History of Tango Part 7 Origins of The O
7: Origins of the
Orquesta Típica –
Francisco Canaro
We would like to tell you about the early life of Francisco Canaro.
According to Tango historian Orlando Del Greco “In this name, all the
Tango is summarized”.
Francisco Canaro, artistic name of Francisco Canaroso, was born in
Uruguay in 1888.
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During his early childhood he moved with his family to Buenos Aires,
where they rented a room in a “conventillo”, collective form of
accommodation or housing in which several poor families
shared a house, typically one family for each room using communal
sanitary services. His family was very poor. Later, he would become
one of the wealthiest people in Argentina, and a major contributor to
the diffusion of Tango in Buenos Aires, the rest of Argentina and
abroad. He went on to be very involved in the struggle for musicians
and composers rights, making it possible to make a living for
musicians and generating incentives for them to improve and be
creative. His life runs parallel to the history of Tango: starting in the
poorest neighborhoods of Buenos Aires, moving up the social ladder,
eventually achieving world wide recognition.
Not long after Canaro and his family arrived in Buenos Aires, a
smallpox epidemic broke out. Three of his siblings got sick, causing
one of them to die. To avoid contracting smallpox, Francisco and his
remaining siblings had to sleep outside his family’s one-room home.
They decided that they needed to do something to help, and without
telling his parents, Francisco, Rafael and Luis went to sell newspapers
in the streets.
They would beg in the streets to get some money to buy newspapers
at 5 cents, to sell them at 8 cents. They found a corner that seemed
well suited for the enterprise, at Entre Rios and San Juan streets, but
they soon discovered the corner was already the post of two other
brothers. A conflict soon developed into a fight that ended with all of
them at the police station. There they settled on an arrangement to
share that corner and a new post with the other siblings.
Francisco also worked as shoeshine boy in the afternoons, after
selling newspapers in the mornings.
Later Canaro and his family moved to a “conventillo” at Sarandí 1358,
occupying Room 31, where one of his neighbors was Vicente Greco.
In modern day Buenos Aires, the freeway from the Ezeiza Airport to
the downtown area passes over the former location of this
“conventillo”.
When he and his family moved, Francisco got a job in a workshop
manufacturing oil cans.
His passion for music began in his childhood. He had a good voice
and would be a soloist during the comparsas de carnaval (Carnival
Parades). Later, a neighbor in the “conventillo”, taught him to play the
guitar, and soon he started playing with other kids in the neighborhood
parties.
He also learned how to play the mandolin, but his dream was to play
the violin. Not being able to afford one, he made his own using an oil
can and a wooden board.
He learned the painter’s craft, and worked on the final stages of the
Congress Building, together with another tango musician and
composer: Augusto P. Berto.
At this time, he got enough money to buy a violin in a pawn shop.
He decided that he wanted music to be his profession, formed a trio,
and went to play in a brothel in the town of “Ranchos”, eighty miles
south of Buenos Aires, in 1906.
It was a very tough place, where the regulars were men that went to
prison at some moment of their lives.
One night an argument between the police guarding the door and two
drunk men ended in gunshots and two police dead. The trio was
placed on a very precarious balcony near the entrance, and one of the
gunshots perforated the floor of the balcony, luckily not injuring
Canaro or his colleagues. The musicians, fearing harm or even death
if they continued working in such conditions, demanded that the owner
of the brothel terminate their contract, but the owner convinced them
to stay by shielding the balcony with sheets of iron.
At this time, Canaro, who was very dedicated to his study of music,
decided to take lessons with a local music teacher.
Then the trio continued to Guaminí, a town 300 miles southwest of
Buenos Aires, on the border with the province of La Pampa. There
they found work in a “casa de baile” (literally a dance hall, but more
likely a brothel masked as a dance hall) called “El colorado”. The
owner did not hire them, but allowed them to put out a plate and ask
the dancers to pay ten cents for each song they danced, which they
paid at the end of the round, one, two or more songs.
However, there was one guy, nicknamed “Firulete,” who would always
find his way out of the place without paying. He was fond of showing
off, and his gang of friends would often shout “Solo!” to demand
everyone clear the dance floor to allow “Firulete” to display his dance
skills.
Canaro and his colleagues got more and more annoyed by this over
time, until one night they confronted him and demanded payment.
“Firulete” reacted dramatically as though they had insulted him and
waited outside with two of his gang members to provoke them to fight,
which led to fist fights and gunshots. By the time the police arrived,
they only found the musicians, since the others were locals and knew
the town well and how to sneak away quickly.
The musicians ended up in jail for creating unrest, and they were
forced to sleep on the cold ground with no blankets for many nights.
Their only reprieve was a police escort to play at “El colorado”, a
“privilege” granted to them thanks to the friendship between the sheriff
and the owner of “El colorado.”
After a while, they were released from jail, assisted by the mediation
of a “compadre” from the area, who became friends with the
musicians during their stay in Guaminí.
A consolation for Canaro was hearing that “Firulete” was eventually
caught, and submitted to the standard treatment sheriffs gave to
“compadritos”, which consisted of cutting their hair short and removing
the “taquito militar” (heels) from his shoes.
After a while he got the information from some travelers that they
needed musicians in Arrecifes, 35 miles south, and that the pay was
better than what they were receiving in San Pedro. He wrote to the
owner of the place, confirming that he and a bandoneon player
(Salerno decided to remain in San Pedro) could be there in a few
days. The owner replied that they needed them immediately, so
Canaro and the other musician decided to take the first available cart.
This last-minute decision saved their lives. Later they found out that
the cart they had planned to take was crashed into by a train, and no
one survived.
Once they were established in Arrecifes, Canaro wrote to Buenos
Aires for another musician, Pablo Bustos, to join them. Pablo had
recently been released from prison for killing a man, alleging self-
defense.
While living in Arrecifes, Canaro was dating a lady who used to be the
girlfriend of someone nicknamed “El Zorro”, with the reputation of
“guapo” (though), who was in prison. When news came that “El Zorro”
was going to be released from prison, Canaro and his girlfriend
decided to disappear together. They planned for her to hide out in
another town and wait for Canaro, who would join her once he
received his salary. But “El Zorro” found out about their plan, and one
day he showed up at a bar near the “casa de baile” where Canaro and
Pablo Bustos were playing cards with other townspeople. He ordered
a drink and tried to pick a fight with Canaro by talking loudly and
making indirect references to insult him. Canaro did not let this get to
him, instead playing dumb. “El Zorro” eventually became impatient
with his game of taunting Canaro and got close to him, pushed his
shoulder, and said:
“Listen, little musician, I want to tell you something.”
“With great pleasure!” Canaro responded. He stood up, preparing for
whatever would come next, while Pablo placed himself in a strategic
position.
“El Zorro” made a gesture like he was reaching for his weapon and
pushed Canaro out of the bar.
Then “El Zorro” said loudly, “I will make you tell me where Maria
Esther (the lady) is.”
Canaro responded, “If you are so “El Zorro” (referring to the character
who is clever and resourceful), why don’t you find her yourself?”
Then a fight broke out, but the people at the bar got in between them,
the police came, and things did not go further.
But Canaro was convinced that “El Zorro” was not going to let this go,
so, prudently, the following morning asked to be paid, took the train to
meet Maria Esther, and continued on to Buenos Aires together,
enjoying their romance for a while in the big city.
Once back in Buenos Aires in 1908, Canaro formed a trio together
with Samuel Castriota on piano (author of “Mi noche triste”) and
Vicente Loduca on bandoneon. They rehearsed feverishly until
Canaro was satisfied with the repertoire and the sharpness of the
interpretations. He found them a regular gig at “Café Royal” in the very
center of the tango scene at the time, the corner of Suarez and
Necochea streets, in La Boca neighborhood.
They played on a balcony that was so small, it could barely contain all
three of them. In his memoirs, Canaro said that every time he visited
La Boca for any reason, he liked to come back to this place, look at
the little balcony, and reminisce about his youth.
“Café Royal”, like other similar businesses, had waitresses, called
“camareras”, who dressed in black with white aprons and were very
accommodating with the clientele – and very good looking.
The specialty of the house was Turkish coffee, which customers liked
very much.
The owner of “Royal” was a Greek gentleman with black curly hair
who, in accordance with the fashion of the time, had a very thick
mustache. Here wore a picturesque vest, from which he hung a thick
golden clock chain, that had a big gold medal, which he carried with
pride, perhaps as a sign of his status as the owner of the café.