The Rebel Reporter

Free-lance journalist John Ross (1938-2011) arrived in Mexico City one week after the September 1985 earthquake.  Rubble in the streets of the Centro Historico blocked his taxi’s access to his intended destination; he walked the last blocks to Hotel Isabel on Isabel de la Católica Street.  In response to his knocking the bell captain opened the massive door wearing what John described as an uncharacteristic full-dress uniform with shiny brass buttons running up his chest.

“Do you have a room?,” John asked.

“A room?” querried the bell captain.  “I have 75 rooms!”

After weighing the pros and cons of the many rooms and floors John checked-in to room 102, on the second floor with windows opening onto Isabel la Católica street.  It was his home for the next 25 years.

From Room 102 John led his readers through every major Mexican news story - from political upheavals to environmental crises.  John broke the story of the impending Zapatista uprising in Chiapas weeks before it happened and anticipated the negative impact proposed laws would have on the fragile ejido system before they were passed.  John’s first rule of journalism was, “Be there.  You can’t report stories you haven’t witnessed personally.  Develop your sources.  Over the years I’ve maintained sources as diverse as homeless beggars and those in lofty positions of power.” 

John’s last interview was in room 102 on December 29, 2010 with Charlie’s Digs collaborator Carol Hopkins while I moved his archive to a van for the first leg of its trip to the Bancroft Library at U.C. Berkeley.

John, with the distinction of being the dean of foreign correspondents in Mexico, checked out of Hotel Isabel on December 31, 2010 – two weeks before his imminent death.  Alive, John was one of our favorite people.  Dead, he remains one of our most admired.

Last Saturday, Carol and I made our way back to the Hotel Isabel lobby for the presentation of John Ross’ posthumously published, Rebel Reporting, John Ross Speaks to Independent Journalists.

The “event” began with Norman Stockwell explaining how and why he’d edited and published the collection of journalism lectures his friend John had first given at San Francisco’s New College in 2006 and again in Wisconsin at Madison College in 2010.  “Dissemination of these lectures was the only thing John ever asked of me.  This book is my fulfillment of a promise made.”

A disparate group of eighteen was present -- aged 16-80.  In the once-grand lobby of the hotel, we’d pulled up chairs and celebrated our friend and the publication of his book.

Self-effacing, Stockwell said he’d “unsuccessfully offered the book to every leftist publisher in the United States.”  Just when he thought he’d let John down, a publisher surfaced.  Stockwell gives credit to many but I believe the credit belongs in his corner.  The existence of this beautiful, pithy, 118-page volume is an act of love.  There are two excellent forwards by Democracy Now’s own Amy Goodman and by Robert W. McChesney, University of Illinois professor of communications.

During Carol’s 2010 interview with John he had referred to the lectures now published in Rebel Reporting, “These are the most important of my unpublished papers.”  In a short summary of the lectures John emphasized, “To cover a story, go to where it happened, be a part of it. It’s not your job to be objective.  Find the truth and tell it.  Stand for Something. Don’t write anything you don’t believe.” 

John’s good friend, Hermann Bellinghausen, was among the 18 present last Saturday. John was Bellinghausen’s journalism colleague and godfather to Hermann’s young son, Julian, present at this book presentation. 

For many years Bellinghausen has covered Chiapas, the Zapatistas and sub-commandante Marcos.  He shared humorous and poignant memories of his friend — while deeply lamenting the unavailability of John’s books and articles in Spanish.  “It’s surprising and unfortunate but all of John’s writings about Mexico are in English.  John published three books about the Zapatistas and a novel about Mexico; all are important. 

“It’s also little known in Mexico how significant John was as a friendly interpreter of Mexico to the U.S… There’s never been a journalist like him.  In addition, he was a great poet, one of the last beatniks and a passionate lover of jazz…

“Though relatively unknown in Mexico’s intellectual world, John was well-known among Mexican journalists. John never let himself be tricked by power or fame.  Maybe that’s why he isn’t translated into Spanish – he didn’t have the right friends and he didn’t try to make them. Even though he wrote so well, with such passion and such a good pen, there are only 18 people here today.  We each need to make an effort for John to be better known.”

Carol and I walked away from the Hotel Isabel relishing our own reminiscences of John, glad we’d gone to where the story was, met John’s friends, and, for a bit, again basked in John’s genius.  In my backpack I carried a stash of copies of Rebel Reporting – published by Hamilton Books -- entrusted to me by Norman Stockwell for sale in Mexico.  Let me know if you would like one.

Larry Russell: still playing along in Mexico

I first met Larry Russell at the "Homage for John Ross" I hosted at Mexico City's Teatro de la Ciudad in February 2011. John Ross, the dean of foreign correspondents in Mexico, loved good jazz almost as much as politics. We decided we needed live music to celebrate his life.  Digs collaborator Carol Hopkins had heard Larry Russell play jazz on his saxophone, said he was great, and asked him to play. We were delighted when he volunteered his services to honor John. 

Larry showed up, set up, and with no drama played “Goodbye Pork Pie Hat” composed by Charlie Mingus and “Round Midnight” by Thelonius  Monk.   I was extremely impressed.  Who was this US jazz great who just happened to be available in Mexico City and willing to give his time?

Larry Russell was born in Connecticut. At 14, already interested in a career in music, his mother took him to visit the big band leader Henry Jerome.  During intermission back stage Jerome suggested Larry talk to lead saxophonist Alan Greenspan (yes, later chairman of the U.S. Federal Reserve Board).  Greenspan advised him not to put all his eggs in one basket. Though an accomplished saxophonist, Greenspan was apparently already practicing to be an economist.

Larry studied music at the New England Conservatory and at 19 was playing with the Boston Pops.  Though Larry enjoyed classical music he pursued his early passion for jazz, traveling and playing with some of the great jazz groups including Buddy Rich and Louis Prima. “Jazz is the only original US art form,“ Larry told me.  “To play classical music the idea is to play a composition as perfectly as possible resulting in constant imitation.  In jazz you’re encouraged to find your own voice, do improvisation, interpretations, variations.”

“Popular music depresses me.  Rock music is like wading in a kiddy pool. Jazz is like swimming in the ocean. Rock musicians play 3 chords for 3000 people and jazz musicians play 3000 chords for 3 people.” 

Larry’s first trip to Mexico was in the early 60’s at the behest of a Mexico City jazz promoter.  He enjoyed Mexico’s jazz scene but returned to the U.S. where jobs were more plentiful.  In New York he met and fell in love with Mexico City-based photographer Nadine Markova.  An antiwar activist, Vietnam had already soured Larry on paying US taxes. Moving to Mexico was an attractive option. He married Nadine.

In the following years Larry continued to perform jazz but also taught music. For a number of years he headed Mexico City's American School music department.  “I’d still be there but the peso devaluation in the mid-80’s led to the withdrawal of half the students and the closure of the music department.” 

Heeding Greenspan’s advice, Larry and Nadine pooled their considerable talents and began supplementing music and photography with journalism. They were a natural team. Larry wrote and Nadine photographed.  They did many travel and archeological pieces for "Geografia Universal".

While working for the BBC on an archeological piece Larry had an experience I listened to in awe and envy. Larry secured rare permission to enter the cave beneath the Pyramid of the Sun. INAH Director Roberto Gallegos suggested they “bring compasses, I think you’ll be interested.” Larry said that when the team reached the cave the compasses “went haywire – we were in a strong magnetic field.  Also of interest was the freshness of the air.  We were eleven in an enclosed space, carrying heavy equipment.  We suffered no oxygen deprivation -- in fact felt energized.”

Asked about other jazz greats who’d come to Mexico, Larry mentioned good friends who lived (and died) in Cuernavaca – the double bassist Charlie Mingus (1922-79) and pianist, arranger, and composer Gil Evans (1912-88).  Saxophonist Dexter Gordon (1923-90) spent several years living near Larry  -- gigging with him in Mexico City and Cuernavaca.  Dave Brubeck (1920-2012) was also a friend with whom Larry jammed at European festivals.  “Dave and his wife Iola spent a number of quiet vacations at nearby Hacienda Cocoyoc,” Larry said.

“For many years Aeromexico and/or Televisa sponsored participation in European jazz festivals.  As the first traveling Mexican jazz group we were a bit of an oddity but much appreciated.  We have a standing invitation to the great jazz festivals however without sponsorship it’s impossible to attend. It’s unfortunate. We’ve developed great local talent.”

Larry added, “I’m very content in Mexico and have no intention of retiring. Though an octogenarian I pay no attention to my chronological age; music is therapy. In fact, I may be a better musician now than I’ve ever been.”

You can hear the Larry Russell International Jazz Quartet most Wednesdays and Thursdays 7-9 p.m. at Kash in San Angel in Mexico City.  They are also regulars at Paparazzi in Cuernavaca.

John Ross' son was dismissive of having live jazz at his father’s homage, preferring a recording of Charlie “Bird” Parker or Charlie Mingus.  Little did he know that Larry Russell had played with these greats and carried on in Mexico the jazz tradition beloved by his father. 

The Caballito presides over art and architecture

In 1979 President José López Portillo ordered the equestrian statue of Carlos IV of Spain moved from a traffic circle on Paseo de la Reforma to a plaza where viewers could wander around and see it from every angle. The president reasoned few admired Manuel Tolsá's exquisite sculpture in the traffic circle.  Drivers maneuvering the traffic flow and even pedestrians put their lives at risk even attempting to view the statue in detail.  

Even though the statue has one of the largest and grandest horses ever seen in sculpture, it is referred to in ironic Mexican style as the Caballito -- the tiny little horse.  Once it was moved the traffic circle went from being the “Glorieta del Caballito” to “the Glorieta donde estaba el Caballito”-- where the Caballito used to be.  Yes, all reference is to the horse, not the rider.

In 1821, after independence from Spain, there was talk of melting down the statue and fabricating weapons from the bronze.  Cooler heads prevailed; it was preserved as art, not homage.  For safekeeping, it was moved from the Plaza de la Constitución (the Zócalo) to a university building.  It remained there until 1852 when it moved to the traffic circle on Paseo de la Reforma. 

Now the Caballito is in the middle of the esplanade in front of the National Art Museum and presides over one of the few open spaces in Mexico City's Centro Historico.  Although traffic flows through on Tacuba street, by eliminating curbs and sidewalks contemporary city planners allowed the Art Museum to share its open space with the Palacio de la Minería (the School of Mining) also designed by Manuel Tolsá, who besides being a sculptor and architect was rector of Mexico City's San Carlos Academy of Art.  The Palacio de Correos (main post office) and the old Senate building have toeholds on opposite corners of this marvelous plaza. 

As I sit on the stepped pedestal of the Caballito, busy contemporary Mexico passes by.  I am reminded of a tourism department poster that read "Mexico City, where the Renaissance went after it left Europe."  Tolsá's Mining Palace, built in the last years of the Viceroyalty period, faces the former Secretariat of Communications and Public Works building (now the art museum), symbol of Porfirio Diaz's idea of Order and Progress, built in the last years before the Mexican Revolution of 1910.  

Looking up at the top level of the main post office, designed by Italian architect Adamo Boari, it’s easy to imagine passing a Venetian palace in a gondola.   Step into that building at the corner of Tacuba and Eje Central and be wonderstruck by its beauty.   Inside is a statuette of a relay runner making his way from the Gulf coast to Emperor Moctezuma's palace with a giant fish on his shoulder -- Mexico's first postal system. 

The National Art Museum's facade is currently behind scaffolding, but the museum is open. It houses a number of magnificent marble sculptures in hallways and staircases but its extensive collection is mostly paintings.  One room exhibits various portraits, all by different Mexican 20th Century artists, of patron of Mexican arts and muse Maria Asúnsolo. 

You’ll see impressive mural-sized artist's views of imaginative events within Mesoamerican palaces, from a European perspective.  Contrasting with them are accurately portrayed photographic-quality landscapes by José María Velazco.  Velazco studied botany in order to paint leaves accurately.  His best known paintings are the view of the Pyramid of the Sun painted from the top of the Pyramid of the Moon in 1878, and a steam locomotive pulling a train around a curve, over a bridge, enroute to the port of Veracruz.  Snowcapped Citlaltépetl (better known as the Peak of Orizaba) is in the background.

Outside the museum art is also happening.  David Cerón Oropeza 'paints' with chalk on the pavement.  He 'puts up' a new painting each month.  The current one is Johannes Vermeer's "Girl with a Pearl Earring".  The pitch-black background of the masterpiece goes well with the Plaza's black volcanic paving stones.  

While admiring his rendition of the painting, tune out the traffic and listen for rattles like those worn around their ankles by Aztec-style dancers. They will be around the ankles of street saxophonist Oscar Gomezcesar, a.k.a. El Vampiro.  

When I emceed the tribute to John Ross in Mexico City's Teatro de la Ciudad last year, Oscar fulfilled John's request that El Vampiro play "The Internationale" on stage.  He'll gladly play it for you on request.  

 

Besides being part of the Manuel Tolsá Plaza, both Oscar and David are well-versed in literature, art, and current events, all likely from a point of view quite different from that you probably normally encounter.  They are interesting lunch guests. Don't worry about inviting The Vampire into a restaurant with you; he's well regarded in the Centro Histórico.

And going full circle, the traffic circle on Reforma is once again the Glorieta del Caballito, but with a very different Caballito.  Now it is Sebastián's schoolbus-yellow modern sculpture of a knight from a chess set.  Traffic flows around it smoothly.