mariachi to merman
by Douglas Messerli
Guerrero’s entertaining and somewhat
self-satirizing show is subtitled “Mariachi to Merman, Sondheim to Cesar
Chavez,” and the rage of those extremes are, in part, his defining life
experiences. To a mostly student audience of primarily Chicano students,
Guerrero explained that he grew up without defining himself as anything but a
second generation American; although his parents were of Mexican background, he
did not define himself in the 1940s and 1950s as either Chicano or Latino. Yet,
without him quite realizing it, he grew up at the very center of the
Mexican-American culture in that his father, Lalo Guerrero, was the famed
mariachi composer-singer. In a recent interview, Guerrero recounted what he
also reveals on stage:
I was just a kid
when Mom took me to see Dad
perform at the Million Dollar Theatre in downtown
Los Angeles, one of the great movie palaces built
back in 1918. By the early 1950’s, changing demo-
graphics kicked in and it became the cultural
center for LA’s Spanish-language community.
You got a great
black and white film from the perform at the Million Dollar Theatre in downtown
Los Angeles, one of the great movie palaces built
back in 1918. By the early 1950’s, changing demo-
graphics kicked in and it became the cultural
center for LA’s Spanish-language community.
Golden Age of Mexican cinema and a live variety
show with the biggest names from Mexico and the
biggest Mexican names from this side of the border.
Dad walked out on that stage and, when applause
broke out, I knew he was special and not just a “regular”
Dad like my friends’ dads. He belonged to a bigger
audience than just Mom and me. I knew it at that
moment.
Late
in his life, Lalo, who has been described as the “Father of Chicano Music,” was
awarded a
NEA
National Heritage Fellowship in 1991, and was named a National Folk Treasure by
the Smithsonian Institution in 1980. President Clinton presented him with the
National Medal of Arts, the first Chicano to receive that award.
Yet, for much of his life, his son tried
to dissociate himself from that music and the world with which it was
associated. At one of his very first Broadway performances, Ethel Merman,
singing “Some People” in the music Gypsy
spoke what felt was directed at him. He sings a few stanzas in his performance
with great Mermanian gusto.
Although he did get several acting roles
in summer stock companies—groups, he jokes, so sexually charged that he even
had sex with a woman—he gradually realized that his dreams of being on the
Broadway stage grew fainter. Almost by accident, learning on the job, Guerrero
began an actor’s agent, becoming very successful, casting numerous figures in
works as different as A Chorus Line and
Cats. Among his several well-known
clients was a very young girl, who, however, was extremely wise as she sat in
his office suggesting roles: Sarah Jessica Parker. Involved with the casting of
the musical Zoot Suit, a musical
about the 1940s Chicano community in Los Angeles, Guerrero’s life suddenly came
full circle as he reencountered not only the music his father had created by
actor friends such as Lupe Ontiveros and others he had known previously.

Of course he also reforged his friendship
the boy who as a child he’d know as “Charles,” the now renowned artist Carlos
Almaraz, who tragically died of AIDS in 1989.
By turns campy, vaudevillian, and
historian, Guerrero tells a fantastic tale in ¡Gaytino! that results in laughter and tears.