A life of love, lived one sweet song at a time
http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/features/20050929-9999-1c...
By Luis Humberto Crosthwaite
September 29, 2005
I saw him standing at the Plaza Santa Cecilia in Tijuana. Like many other musicians, he was awaiting the arrival of a customer. He wore a traditional
mariachi suit, albeit worn from use.
The plaza is full of sharply dressed musicians, all clad in the same color, with new instruments; there are also musicians who are just starting out,
those whose only suit is their talent and the need to make a few pesos to feed their families.
Would you like to serenade your girlfriend? Do you want to make up to your wife because you got home late last night? Do you want your mom to listen
to songs that bring back fond memories? That's what the Plaza Santa Cecilia is for.
You have but to approach it and the musicians will jump up and offer their services ? romantic music, joyful, danceable, nostalgic. Music to feed the
heart, with the flavor of home. Music that unlocks memories and makes us laugh or cry.
I wanted to talk with an old pro, someone who'd spent many years amid guitarrones, trumpets and violins. At Plaza Santa Cecilia, that would be Jos?
Arana, a gray-haired man, 71 years old.
Don Jos? began playing in the streets of Tijuana 44 years ago.
"I used to be in the (Mexican) Army," he said. "I was a member of the Fifth Infantry Battalion's band."
He admits that he was a real handful for his parents in Tepic, Nayarit. At 17, he got into a jam that landed him in jail for three years.
"Some recruiters from the army showed up, and they asked me if I preferred to remain in jail or serve my country."
He didn't think twice and ? following the example set by his father, who had fought with the great Emiliano Zapata in the Mexican Revolution ?
immersed himself in the military.
There he learned discipline, and how to play the guitar.
After a decade of service, a friend convinced him to leave the armed forces and form a musical group. That was how Jos? began to roam the restaurants
and cantinas of Tijuana in the 1960s, right in the middle of a tourism boom.
More than four decades later, music remains his main source of income. Thanks to his dedication, and to the fact that he never missed a day of work,
he sent his five children to school, making sure they would never have to roam the streets like he did.
"We have played in many places in California: Vista, San Diego, San Bernardino, Los Angeles."
And not above a little bragging, he adds, "Over there, where there are so many very good mariachis, they still call us to play parties."
Life has gotten harder for musicians in Tijuana. After 9/11, tourism fell, and the arrival of other mariachis has made the competition tougher.
Before, Jos? Arana's mariachi could afford to say no, we have already made enough money. Nowadays, a whole day can pass without a single customer.
When potential clients finally arrive, it seems they have all agreed to request the same old songs: "Volver, volver," "El rey," "Guadalajara," or that
one that Americans always ask for, "Ay ay ay ay, canta y no llores..."
And there are always people in love or sometimes the brokenhearted who want him to sing "the same one again ... Play the same one 10 times in a row."
Nonetheless, if it were up to Jos? Arana, he would only sing those old-fashioned songs that no one sings anymore, those old melodies that bring back
memories of his parents, Santiago and Josefina.
I left him still standing in the plaza, with a big smile that showed off his gold tooth, waiting for someone to come, a merciful soul looking for the
delight that only Mexican music can provide.
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