Cuban Streetwalkers Looked Good to Fred

But Fred was smiling. "What do you think, Don? I don't know about you, but it's been a long time for me. And they look pretty good. What do you say?"

Well, even at 1951 prices, $5.00 sounded pretty cheap. And these two looked liked they'd racked up more than just a few miles along the way. Also, those training films we'd seen in the army about the horrors of VD were starting to materialize in my head.

"No, I don't think so, Fred. I'm just gonna look for a place to go dancing."

"Well, why don't you just come in and wait? It shouldn't take too long."

"How do we know there aren't a couple of guys waiting in there to jump us and grab our wallets?" I suggested.

"Naw, they look okay. I'm going in with this one. If you don't want to come, how about meeting back at that bar in about half an hour?"

"Well, I know it's none of my business, Fred, but I think you're making a mistake," I said. "But if you insist — okay, I'll meet you back at the bar. Just be careful."

"Don't worry, Don — I'll be fine." The woman who had grabbed Fred was now smiling as they walked inside.

The other just stood and glared at me. I ignored her and headed back toward the bar.

Well, I waited for nearly an hour, but Fred hadn't showed. And I hadn't come to Havana just to sit around a bar waiting for some guy. So I decided to resume my search for a place to go dancing. As I started to leave, in walked Fred with a silly grin on his face.

"Hope I haven't kept you waiting," he said sheepishly.

"What happened — where have you been?" was all I could say.

"Well, I'm too tired to tell you about it now," he said. "How 'bout meeting here tomorrow — say, about noon?"

"Fine," I said. "I'll see you then." But I wasn't really sure I'd make the effort.

Interesting Looking Group in the Street

After leaving the bar, I chose another side street, and saw a crowd of people gathered at the entrance of a building that had no discernable sign on it. They were obviously natives, and were nicely dressed — as if they were going to a theatrical event of some kind. A couple of uniformed guards appeared to be taking tickets from them and then letting them go through a door.

My curiosity was aroused, so I walked over to see if I could figure out why they were all politely waiting to get into this unmarked building. One of the guards spotted me and gave me a puzzled look. It was obvious I was not part of this group.

Nonetheless, he smiled and nodded at me. He was quite surprised when I asked him in Spanish what was happening here. He smiled again, and said this was a radio station, and that these people were going in to see a live broadcast.

When I asked what kind of broadcast, he gave me a rather condescending smile, and said it was a musical show that featured Cuba's most popular female singer along with the country's most popular dance band.

He Was Sure I Wouldn't Know

It was obvious he was sure I would have no idea about whom he was talking — but when I asked him if he might be referring to Celia Cruz and the Sonora Matancera, you could have knocked him over with a feather. His eyes widened and for a moment he was absolutely speechless.

He blinked a couple of times, then quickly moved to grab the other guard by the arm. As he pointed my way, he whispered something that caused the other guard to also look like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. They told the people with the tickets to wait a moment — and then asked me to step to the side.

Mystified Guards

"Who are you?" they wanted to know, and how did I know about the musicians who were about to perform?

"Just an American tourist," I said, and went on to explain that I was very fond of Cuban music and that I happened to own a couple of recordings by the above mentioned artists (which was true).

Now both of them were speechless — but not for long. With one on each side of me, they hustled me through the crowd and into the studio, apologizing to the surprised ticket-holders as they went.

It was not a large auditorium — it had seating for perhaps 150. About half the seats had already been filled by what appeared to be upper-middle class locals, who were appropriately dressed for the occasion — men in suits and ties, women in flowered hats. I was the only one wearing a casual shirt and khaki pants. I was embarrassed.

But it became even more embarrassing.

The first two rows of the small studio had been roped off with signs reading, "RESERVADOS." Guess where they put me — dead center in the front row — all by myself with an empty row behind me. Hushed whispers began to arise from the people seated behind me, as they looked my way with puzzled expressions. When I looked over my shoulder, many smiled and nodded.

This was ridiculous, I thought. A 19-year-old kid who just happened to like Cuban music was being treated like some kind of visiting royalty. Shy guys just weren't supposed to be treated like this. Yet it became even more bizarre.

If you're not a fan of Caribbean dance music, I'm sure the names I mentioned mean nothing to you. But they were, at the time, the Cuban equivalent of Harry James and Dinah Shore.

When I first wrote this Celia Cruz had long since become more popular than ever.

She left Cuba before Castro took over and has continued to entertain with her brand of traditional Cuban music right up to the present time. (Nowadays her kind of music is usually referred to as "salsa" — although Ms. Cruz says she's never gotten used to that term and still refers to it as "música tropical.")

Anyway, the thought that Cuba's most popular female vocalist would be coming onstage at any moment and see me sitting alone in the front row gave me a mixture of feelings that are hard to describe. I would have felt much less uneasy if I'd been dressed like everyone else and sitting back where they were.

Kissed by Celia Cruz

When Ms. Cruz walked out on the stage and saw me, she smiled and came over to where I was seated. She kissed me on the cheek, shook my hand, and said, "Bienvenido." Then she went back onstage and dazzled the audience for the rest of the hour with her amazing voice and inimitable Afro-Cuban stylings.

Now whenever I see her on TV (which happens more often than you might think) the memory of this amazing evening fills me with wonder and joy all over again. In fact, the memory is so meaningful to me that I first posted this story on my web site several years ago. I never really expected anyone to read it, but wanted it there for my own satisfaction.

It was 51 years later when I got a call from a gentleman who identified himself as Jesús Martínez, and who said he was with "Univisión," the Spanish language TV network. He went on to ask if I was the person who'd written the "Celia Cruz" story on www.pcdon.com and, if so — was the story true?

Well, I was in a mild state of shock at being phoned by a representative of a TV network, but managed to reply "yes" to both parts of his question. He seemed pleased to hear this and went on to say that Univisión was planning to do a "surprise tribute" to Ms. Cruz and asked if I'd be willing to come to Miami to be part of it. I was at a loss for words. In fact, I could scarecly believe what I was hearing.

Well, I thanked him for the offer, but said I was very busy and really had no desire to visit Miami. However, he persisted, saying that my appearance on the Marta Susana Show was very important to them and that all my expenses would be paid, along with a small stipend for being on the show.

Well, a TV tribute to Celia Cruz would be nothing new — many have been presented during the 55+ years of her amazing career. But previous tributes have always featured celebrities — usually other Latin American entertainers.

I assumed this show would follow a similar format, and knew I would feel totally out of place with all those celebrities. However, I was told, this time they wanted to do a testimonial featuring "ordinary" people who had come in contact with Ms. Cruz at one time or another.

For instance, they had a doctor who had treated her some years ago and a woman who had once been her manicurist.

Okay, I reasoned, but they could do all this just fine without me.

Well, Jesús explained, my brief encounter with Ms. Cruz had predated all the others and was one of the very few that actually took place in Cuba. Add to this the fact that I chose to post a story about the occasion on my web site, and they insisted that I had to be on the show. I also got the feeling that being the only gringo there would add another level of interest to the event.

But how did they find my web site — and then find this obscure little story? When I asked, I was told they have scouts who get on the Internet and do just that — they keep looking until they find something. Yes, they found my story and were willing to spend over $1,000 to have me come to Miami for an appearance that would last less than ten minutes.

So I went.

Mistress of Ceremonies Marta Susana told the surprised Celia about the story I'd posted and said, "Here he is to see you again after all these years." Well, this time I got a warm hug as I tried to refresh Celia's memory of the incident.

Yes, she remembered the small radio station where she did a nightly broadcast in those days — but I'm reasonably sure she didn't remember me.

No reason why she should, really, but I now have another treasured memory to last me the rest of my life.