My Friend
although you have gone on to
Hippie Hour in Heaven
We can still hear
that
cool Mambo Beat..!..!.!...!!!
Scratch,cha,cha,cha
I was only casually acquainted with Mambo - from brief conversations at the Continental Club mostly - but I was deeply acquainted with his playing. I saw Mambo perform with Guy Forsyth and with the Resentments - but I mostly saw him play with Doak Short and the Dirty Dogs and Toni Price. I always looked forward to his solos on the rub board - this was the place where Mambo and I knew each other intimately. I loved the sound of him playing that rub board - loved watching him give himself totally over to the playing - loved being taken with him on a musical journey where we were no longer just Mambo or Tammy - the persons - but where we were Mambo and Tammy - pure beings. I remember vividly the feeling of life's energy coursing up through my dancing body - sending a tingling up through my spine and out the top of my head - what a wonderful feeling - a feeling of being totally alive.
It was sad news when we heard Mambo's cancer had spread and he wouldn't be with us much longer - as the weeks flew by we watched Mambo's body become weaker - but a curious thing was happening - it was as if the weaker his body became - the stronger his spirit became. Now the exchange of life giving energy became more profound between Mambo and the audience - now you could feel more intensely the crowds desire to return the life force four fold to Mambo.
The week Mambo died the television reporters came to the club to ask about him - they wanted to know about this thing called Hippie Hour. I was passing out flyers with pictures of Mambo to the regulars as a remembrance - so they approached me with their questions. I told them - this is about love - we all come here every week because we love each other and we want to be together. We loved Mambo and that exchange of life energy had a lot of heart in it - a lot of love. That night was dedicated to mambo - Mambo's rub board and cat hat hung from the Continental Club sign on the stage behind the musicians. It was hard looking over at the spot where Mambo used to stand when he played with Toni and the boys - he wasn't there - but somehow it felt like he was there.
During the break we had a memorial service for Mambo - incense was burned - lit candles were held, and songs were sung. There were more than 100 of us singing Amazing Grace along with the South Austin Gospel Choir. The wind would occasionally pick up - threatening to blow out the candles - but the candles kept on burning and the wind felt like Mambo's way of saying I'm still here.
Mambo's
funeral a few days later was like no other funeral - it was just like Mambo
- unique! The parlor was filled with tropical flower arrangements - bird of
paradise and ginger - the funeral parlor was packed to overflowing - not your
usual bunch of people all dressed in somber black - this crowd was dressed festively
- bright colors - pretty dresses - wearing something beautiful to symbolize
the celebration that was Mambo's life. Beto y los Fairlanes played music for
us - on one song they told us they would stop playing in the places where Mambo
did his solo. The song was so touching - the silences accentuated the emptiness
- the void that only Mambo could fill. Friends spoke with heart and grace of
sentimental and funny memories of Mambo - it was the story of a life well lived.
At the end of the ceremony a group of musicians came up to play and sing - the
ceremony ended with Toni Price honoring Mambo's last request to her - to sing
"Swim Away" - it was so bittersweetfully beautiful.
Now
the long line of friends came to bid Mambo their last farewell - talking to
him, touching him, kissing him as he lie in the coffin. When it was my turn
- I touched his rub board - peered at his face and said, "Well Mambo, I
guess those blues finally stopped knocking at your door."
After the funeral we all went to the park across the street and threw a party for Mambo. Drum sticks were at every table and some of the party goers used them to drum up a mighty sound to heaven.
Everywhere I went in the next few weeks - every live music show - the musicians would talk about Mambo's passing - talk about what he meant to them - and dedicate a song or their entire set to Mambo - as Toni Price said, "Mambo, you will not be forgotten."
A friend of mine wrote me about a week after Mambo died - a time when we were finally getting some rain after a long dry spell - he said, "I'm calling this Mambo's rain...it all started about the time the Resentments were suppose to take the stage Sunday evening - with a crack of thunder and a bolt of lightning. If you wanted to give your friends a gift to thank them for helping you in your hour of need, and it was Texas in the summertime, what would you give them? RAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!".
I remember that day well...I
was sitting outside at Guero's on Congress Avenue and you could smell the rain
before you actually saw it - saw it move from the North - coming South right
up Congress - it was a downpour and by the time I got out of the car at the
Saxon Pub and made my way inside - I was dripping wet - indeed my friend - it
did feel like Mambo's rain...