"The masters used to give their worn out clothes to their slaves. Bearing in mind that these were families of wealth and high station, much of this clothing would have been the truly impressive formal wear...."
Uncredited photo from
LaRed21.
Excerpts from "Entre Cortes y Quebradas" by Pintin Castellano (Montevideo 1948).
English-language version by Tango Decoder.
Chapter 1
CANDOMBES ON THE COSTA SUR
¡¡Montevideo of Yesteryear!!.. How many things are enshrined in those words; significant historical events; the lives of our elders; examples of patriotism raised to the raised to the purest ideal... In the end, a thousand and one things that predispose us to meditate deeply and with respect.
The candombe. In the foreground, flamboyantly dressed slaves dance to the rhythm of the drums. In the background the masters and their families watch from the seawall. Illustration by Eduardo Vernazza from "Entre Cortes y Quebradas."
Even now, we are bound to feel the evocative power of that distant epoch. The years 1808 to 1830. Candombe dances held by the black community. Whenever the masters gave their slaves "license" for the traditional entertainment, the brown-skinned folk met very early on Sunday morning on the southern shore of "La Tacita de Plata," [lit., Little Silver Cup, a term of endearment for the city of Montevideo--TD] at the battery of San Rafael near El Cubo Del Sur (later Santa Teresa). There they divided up into their "classes" or "tribes," such as Congos, Minas, Molembos, Mozambiques, Cabindas, and others.
Each "class" was responsible for arranging its own canchita ("little field"), tamping the earth with their heels or covering it with a layer of fine sand to smooth the way for the dancers. Then the famous candombe began.
Pintin Castellanos fronting a large Carnaval orchestra, 1930. Photo: Napoli.
The instruments were very simple, all percussion, pure rhythm. Tamboriles, marimbas, mate or porongo, and mazacalla. Devilishly complicated rhythms matched in intensity by the state of mind of the dancers and the "little drink" that kept refreshing the dry throats during the continuous singing of: ..."calunga, cangué... eee llumbá... eee llumbá," accompanied by hand-claps and amusing contortions of legs, hips, arms, and head... and chanting more strongly each time, "calunga cangué... eee llumbá...."
All the blacks without exception and with unwonted enthusiasm partook of the candombe. Everyone, old and young, boys and girls, surrendered their whole heart and soul to the irresistible spell of the maddening, sensual dance. Perhaps in their souls, by dancing to the rhythm of those instruments and chanting, they were miraculously experiencing the feeling that they were back home in their distant African land, dreaming of happy freedom surrounded by their loved ones.
Terrible and cruel was destiny for the noble black race of that time. Unique and profound the enjoyment of those lofty memories for the mistreated bodies and their humiliating fate. Unique and profound this outward expression of extraordinary significance... The beloved "candombe!"
Vibration of the colored race in its dance of remembrance! Possibly the same feeling we ourselves would feel if, far away from our beloved homeland, we were to hear a tango or a milonga or other melody from our own songbook. We would feel, in that fleeting instant, the value of that music, bringing us in every note, every chord, a remembrance of all the feelings that throb in the depths of our hearts. While some masters didn't allow their slaves to participate in the great celebration of body and mind, others, with a more noble and humane understanding, not only gave this day the greatest possible license, but even came with their whole family to witness the noble candombe, showing in this gracious way their approval of the participation of the slaves who were in their service.
The great fiesta began with the entry of the Sun, and ended with the crowning of the Star King. The excitement of the well-heeled spectators was really quite extraordinary, indescribable enthusiasm rivaling at certain moments that of the candombe itself. The traditional candombe of the Costa Sur became such a hit, that it became the event of the season for the most distinguished families of colonial Montevideo.
Undoubtedly it was a very curious and colorful spectacle. On more than one occasion those same masters and their families who had come as spectators felt so charmed by the dance that from their places on the seawall they accompanied the fevered, overpowering rhythm of the drum-rolls and the singing of the blacks with smooth movement of their own bodies, with truly admirable ingenuity. This attitude of their masters was the greatest reward that could be hoped for by the slaves, who, in boundless gratitude, added to that dose of enthusiasm -- which was already more than sufficient -- by their extraordinary contortions and by mimicry of the white folks' dancing....
....How did the blacks dress for the candombes? I must mention here a point of singular importance. The masters used to give their worn out clothes to their slaves. Bearing in mind that these were families of wealth and high station, much of this clothing would have been the truly impressive formal wear of parties and meetings, for example: frock coats, tails, plush top hats, gloves, spats, canes, etc. And for their part the ladies of the house used to give their female slaves gifts of rich articles of clothing--well worn, of course--evening wear, satin shoes, gloves, parasols, lace collars, etc. On more than one occasion there was a rivalry among some prideful masters over which of them could boast of having the best-dressed slaves in their service, and the candomberos, from then on, contributed by finding the most effective way to show off their rich clothes in the most original and elegant way, capturing the admiration and applause of all present.
El Cubo Del Sur would have felt doubly proud of being the theater of such impressive and beautiful dress-up parties and also of having been honored--by virtue of their laborious construction work in the year 8 [that is, 1808]--by the most distinguished citizens of that time, among the most prominent, none other than their own Governor Don Elío, who in shirt sleeves had personally dragged stone upon stone into place, emulating by his democratic labor the solemn workmen and the populace as a whole.
For many years, the candombes continued to be the favorite celebration among young and old of the little village of Montevideo. With the passage of time... time in which anything can happen, and everything changes... the glittering festival of the brown-skinned folk started slowly to decline. It was thus that, little by little, new attractions of a more modern character, but never as original or colorful as the candombes, were replacing them, and the public--with a different idea of fun--preferred to give more attention to another type of spectacle. Once the masters no longer attended the candombe, the black folks felt the pain of that abandonment, losing the characteristic enthusiasm that had animated all their traditional jubilees.
It was for this justifiable reason that, in the years 1827-29, approximately, the dances of our southern coast disappeared almost completely, to reappear in some neighborhood of the old city, and later to be forgotten. Thus was extinguished one of the most unique and colorful entertainments that were the main attraction in our small and beautiful colonial city more than a century ago: Los "candombes de la costa Sur".
Uruguayan bandleader, pianist, author, and composer Pintín Castellanos was the composer of the milongas La puñalada and Meta fierro, the tango Nyanzas y malevos, and others.
Beginning early in his his solo career, ads for tango superstar Albert Castillo's appearances often identified an aspiring actor named Rodolfo Díaz Soler (portrait, middle right) as a reciter of glosas, the spoken introductions that preceded some or all of the songs in the show. Some ads identify Soler simply as el galán ("the leading man"), probably a reference to his burgeoning film career; others credit him with programación, which could simply mean "planning." The ad shown here seems to imply a deeper involvement in Castillo's business affairs.
"Upon Mr. Rodolfo Díaz Soler's withdrawal from day-to-day operations in search of new horizons, Albert Castillo wishes his friend the greatest success in his new enterprise, and announces to Clubs and Artist Management Agencies that, beginning today, he names as his Secretary Mr. Adolfo De Lucca, who will be available (by phone at) T. E. 47 - 2424 from 3 to 6 in the afternoon."
In the ad shown above, Castillo identifies Soler as a friend and wishes him future success. There is no reason to believe this was anything other than sincere. The two men had worked closely together for years, and Soler, a fellow artist, was of course entitled to set out on his own. I would like to think that Castillo really did wish him well.
