Popularity of Mexican Music on Rise From Schools to Eateries : ‘La Rondalla’ Roams the Streets

When he began teaching music at San Diego High School in 1972, Orville Brown took one look at the school’s heavily Latino student body and came up with a plan.

He would help instill some badly needed ethnic pride by putting together a musical group that would perform at school, public functions and relatives’ homes.

As a model, he used the traditional Spanish rondallas, a group of 21 young men or women with guitars who roam the streets singing and playing serenades or romantic ballads.

But try as he might, every time he attempted to recruit members at the start of each school year his plans were met with sighs of disinterest--even from the large number of youths who spent their recesses sitting in a corner, strumming their guitars and singing quietly to themselves.

“I cornered them in the hallways, I pitched my idea to classes,” Brown recalled. “But each time, the response was the same: ‘No way, man, I don’t have time.’ ”

So in the fall of 1975, Brown decided to employ a new tactic: instead of punishing students with detention, he signed them up for his musical group.

By Christmas, the first incarnation of San Diego High’s “La Rondalla” gave its first performance at a school assembly.

“At first, they were stunned,” said Brown, 41. “I grabbed them, told them that their ‘punishment’ would be to sing or play in this group, and they kind of said, ‘Huh?’

“But before they had time to realize what was happening, they were stuck.”

After that first year, Brown no longer had to rely on such unorthodox recruitment methods. As soon as other students saw what the group was doing, many of them asked to join on their own accord.

Before long, Brown said proudly, La Rondalla was never again in desperate need of members--or of performance dates.

Full Schedule

The young singers and guitarists give three concerts each year at San Diego High; at Christmas, Valentine’s Day, and on the Mexican “Dia de la Madre,” or Mother’s Day, which this year is May 10.

For five years, the group has been the featured act at Disneyland’s annual “Festival Mexico’ in October. The group also performs at a handful of other festivals during the school year, like this weekend’s Cinco de Mayo celebration at Old Town’s Bazaar del Mundo, where they’ll appear at 11:30 a.m. and 1:30 p.m. Saturday and Sunday.

Between gigs, they play about 30 impromptu shows a year, always late at night, at the homes of relatives, who sometimes live as far away as Tijuana.

“It’s these informal gigs where we have the most fun,” Brown said. “I’ve found that if you get a group of kids together to play music on somebody’s front porch at 2 a.m., one of two things happens: the residents wake up and invite you in, or the police show up.”

One night last year, Brown said, La Rondalla began playing a late-night set in front of a Golden Hill home and before the residents could be mustered up from their slumber, a police car drove up.

“The officer asked what we were doing and when we told him, he joined in,” Brown said. “He then escorted us on to the next four homes on our route in his police car, with the lights flashing, until he was finally summoned away on a call.

“Wherever we go, we get a great reaction. People are glad to hear the music of their homeland, especially when it’s sung and played by their own children.”

Funding Problems

The one problem that has plagued La Rondalla since its inception, Brown said, is the lack of school funding. Members must buy their own instruments, strings and outfits, which they purchase on monthly trips to Tijuana, “where you can get everything a lot cheaper,” Brown said.

For La Rondalla’s Cinco de Mayo performances, Brown said, the girls will wear peasant dresses they recently bought in Tijuana, while the boys will be clad in discarded school band uniforms altered to resemble mariachi outfits.

Despite the lingering financial problems that often force Brown to dip into his own pocket, he has never regretted forming the group--despite the often taxing moments during hourlong rehearsals each weekday.

One day last week, Brown--a dead ringer for actor Don Knotts--was frantically trying to get the girls to put down their makeup long enough to sing a spirited tune called “Frescas Flores” all the way through.

Like Barney Fife yelling at Sheriff Andy Taylor, he waved his arms around at the girls, trying to restore order.

“You’ve got to learn it,” he shouted. “We’ve only got a few days left.”

At last, he succeeded--in time to notice one of the newer students, the group’s sole trumpet player, having a bit of trouble learning his part.

“Like this,” he said, picking up a trumpet himself and playing a blaring solo. When the boy at last chimed in, hitting all the right notes, Brown slapped him on the back and proudly said: “We’ll make a Mexican of you yet.”

“I tell you, I earn my money with that group,” Brown said. “There are times when this is the most refreshing group to be with. And then there are days when I long to lock all the instruments in the lockers and the kids in the classroom and just wait outside for the bell to ring.”