Okay. Back in the day when I was a TA at the UCLA Film School we would coordinate with other TA’s to help film students complete their class projects – which involved production chores like helping with casting, finding locations, managing the necessary equipment – lighting, cameras, and sound – plus monitoring the post-production process like arranging for film development [yes – video at that time was still in its formative stages] – and of course editing; splicing shots together and synching them with the soundtracks [dialogue, music, effects] – all done manually on a table using a geared multi-track “gang synchronizer” – followed by sound mixing in preparation for sending the finished edit to the film laboratory for processing.
Anyway, one of those “other TA’s” happened to be a guy named Francisco Martinez, who lived in the Latino community situated in East LA. I helped him shoot one of his projects located at the historic 18th Century Mission Dolores Chapel in San Francisco and subsequently we’d become close friends as a result. That plus he liked the some of the music i would play in my editing cubicle which included jazz and Latino influenced tracks a la Carlos Santana and others.
One evening after a particularly grueling day helping students with their “masterpieces” he asked me what I was doing later which normally would’ve been to head back home to the Ocean Beach garret I lived in at the time and crash.
[BTW, just so you know, I lived in LA for the better part of 16 years, in 9 different locaions starting in the San Fernando Valley, then Hollywood, West Hollywood, Ocean Park, Topanga Canyon, West LA, the “Ghost Town” area of Venice, back to Topanga, and finally Venice Beach. Sister Anita used to complain that she needed a separate address book just to keep track me. 🙂]
Anyway – back to the narrative – Francisco then mentioned that there was a birthday party he was planning on attending back in East LA and would I like to attend with him. I was always up for a party so he didn’t have go ask me twice, plus I had never been to East LA. So, on the way over we stopped to grab a couple of six-packs of beer, and shortly thereafter we pulled up in front of a two story house in the barrio. Hopping out of the car with six-packs under our arms we made our way up the stairs and through the front door into the living room and on to the kitchen where we deposited the beer on the counter then began to check out the other party-goers – all of whom appeared to be Latinos.
Ultimately we were introduced to the celebrant – a Latina in her late 20’s or early 30’s – whose name presently escapes me – whom took one look at me and quipped: “You’re a party crasher”. All I could do was grin stupidly, shrug my shoulders, point to the kitchen counter and blurt out: “But we did bring some beer, so please help yourself – and Happy Birthday!”
That seemed to please her so she proceeded to show us around the apartment and into its backyard where a crowd had assembled in front of a makeshift staging area with microphone stands and a drum kit flanked by speakers and amplifiers. “You are gonna dig this”, whispered Franisco.
Soon the lights [such as they were] went on and there before the assembled crowd stood a small group of musicians. A few chords were struck and much to our delight the band launched into a rendition of “La Bamba”. We watched spellbound for about an hour – in a backyard in a barrio in East LA. They were muy, muy bueno.
Afterwards Francsco told me they were known in the local community as ‘Los Lobos”. The rest is history.
