San Diego’s Modern-Day Renaissance Man

A collection of wooden and metal masks from Mexico and the Orient decorates the arch in the home of Jose de Jesus Mondragon.

It could be said that Mondragon himself wears many masks, or faces, for he is a concert violinist, a chess master and a teacher of Spanish.

A member of the San Diego Symphony for 21 years (until September, 1985), Mondragon now divides his time between San Diego and Tijuana. In San Diego, he teaches violin, Spanish and chess in private lessons (and on occasion teaches Spanish at Converse International School of Languages). In Tijuana, he is a professor of music and maestro of the string section of the Chamber Music Orchestra of the Autonomous University of Baja California. He also teaches chess in Tijuana, where one of his students is an international master.

Like many Mexican-Americans, the line at the border is fluid for the elegant Mondragon, who seems to be a mini-repository of his Hispanic culture and a modern-day Renaissance man.

How does he manage so many activities?

“It’s not tiresome or boring,” he said. “I feel very happy. I’m busy all day, constantly active in different areas. And I also take time to practice and study my violin.” He hastens to add, as if that is not enough: “Any free time I get, I’m always reading.”

Books on history, art, music, chess and Eastern religion fill his North Park home. In his precise, dignified voice, Mondragon tells the story of the mask collection. One colorful mask is from the Michoacan area; a bearded mask and the dark-faced mask next to it from the time of the Spanish conquest, along with a metal mask, are from near Acapulco; a carved wooden puma mask is from Oaxaca.

Clay figures sit on the porch and on a table in the living room. One seated figure holds an armadillo, another figure is of a two-headed dog, and a dark clay figure of a woman is in the process of giving birth. These Nayarit figures are assumed to be from the 13th Century, he says. A music stand, and his 1910 Italian violin, in its case, sit waiting nearby. A recording of Nahuatl (language spoken by the Aztecs and Toltecs) poetry is on the tape recorder.

Born in Mexico City in 1926 as the youngest of seven children of a father who was a painter, and a mother who was a non-professional singer, Mondragon took up the violin and chess about the same time, at age 13. “I was a slow starter,” he says, joking.

The Mexico of his childhood was colorful and peaceful, he says, “but today Mexico City is anything but peaceful. Every time I go to visit my family, they say, ‘Stay here,’ but it’s not as peaceful in Mexico City as it is in San Diego. Mexico City is so cosmopolitan, so beautiful, so interesting, but so crowded. Transportation is impossible.”

Mondragon was educated at the Escuela Superior de Musica and at the University of Mexico in Mexico City. He has a bachelor’s degree in music and five years of study in fine arts, anthropology and linguistics.

His musical background includes the Tijuana Trio and Quartet (which he organized), the National Symphony Orchestra of Mexico and the Philharmonic Orchestra of Mexico. In addition, he has toured throughout Mexico under the sponsorship of the Autonomous University of Baja California.

It was a tour with the Magic Violins of Villafonta, throughout Central and South America and the United States, 22 years ago, which brought Mondragon to San Diego, where he soon became a member of the San Diego Symphony.

Mondragon is not sure exactly what drew him to the violin as a young boy, but recalls that in the fourth grade he heard a boy play the violin and afterward asked for information about studying.

“I had an uncle who played the violin, but actually I had never heard him--but I listened to classical music on the radio all the time,” he said.

“In general, we listened to romantic music, like ‘Estrellita.’ We listened to waltzes influenced by France and Vienna.”

An interesting sidelight, according to Mondragon, is that the waltz “Over the Waves,” considered by many to be Viennese, is actually Mexican.

“We listened to light opera with a European flavor--Sigmund Romberg, Victor Herbert,” he said. “This music made a bridge to classical music.

“I think, too, I was influenced by my father who was a painter, though I never knew him, since he died when I was 4. But I always heard my mother talk about him. I had lots of anecdotes. She told me he belonged to a circle of painters, poets, musicians, writers--and this idea always appealed to me.

“My father was my observer. I would wonder what my father would advise me to do--or not to do.”

Perhaps to follow in his father’s footsteps, Mondragon also studied art. “Mostly I did sculpture. But when I did stone carving my hand would shake later when I played the violin, so little by little I quit the sculpture for the violin,” he said.

“I never suffered from not having a father. I never felt I was missing anything. People don’t just drop from your mind” once they have existed in your life.

One Spanish violinist stands out as a role model for Mondragon--Sarasate, who lived around the turn of the century. “I love Sarasate. He was brilliant. He didn’t play heavy music, but played Spanish dance music and arrangements for the opera, ‘Carmen.’ ”

Though Mondragon is first and foremost a musician, he makes plenty of room for his other occupations.

While assistant director of the Berlitz Language Center in San Diego, Mondragon added his own concept of teaching to the direct method used at Berlitz.

In the direct method, he said, students are forced to speak only Spanish, and they deal with tangible things, such as making a choice, or giving a positive or negative answer. Words are repeated at least 24 times.

Contrary to popular opinion, he said, “Learning a language is not a matter of vocabulary (Mondragon also has studied French, Russian and Nahuatl). It is structure, how to combine words. Learning Spanish in San Diego needn’t be difficult. We can turn on Mexican radio stations and watch language programs on television, go to restaurants. You can buy a Mexican newspaper, and underline words you already understand, and you’ll be surprised how many you know-- museo, universidad, profesor, doctor, hotel, revolucion.

“These words all have the same origin in two or three languages. There are hundreds of these cognitive words in Spanish and in English. When trying to reach Spanish, don’t look for the words you don’t know, look for the words you know.

“I like to introduce the use of the subjunctive tense as soon as possible. In more traditional language schools, this tense is not learned until a much later date. When you observe a child learning, you’ll see that he learns the indicative first (facts or opinions). He doesn’t deal with the past or the future because he can’t conceptualize it. The second thing he learns is the command mode: ‘Bring me a toy.’ And the third he learns is the subjunctive (wishes or conditions contrary to fact): ‘I want Mommie to come here.’ The child learns this at an early age.”

Mondragon teaches both children and adults. “I teach one girl at 6 in the morning,” he said. “This kind of discipline is very unusual. After three lessons, she got an A in Spanish at school. Now she is interested in learning the language for its own sake.”

When he teaches Spanish, Mondragon says he tries to convey Mexican history from before the time of the Spaniards. He hopes Mexican culture will be appreciated in North America.

“Fortunately, now we have lots of Mexican artists known here,” he said. “And in music, several symphonic composers from Mexico are well known now.”

Whether he is teaching music, chess or language, Mondragon uses what he terms the philogenetical approach:

“This approach simply means teaching the discipline in the way it has evolved. For example, chess has evolved from basic elementary chess to an art. It began with only the idea of trapping or surprising an opponent. Then it reached a classic period, where openings were sensed and superior positions were sought. Then chess reached a romantic era, which can be compared in art to surrealism, also called the hyper-modern period of chess. Last is the eclectic period of chess, in which parts of all periods are blended. So, to teach chess, you first teach how to trap the opponent, then the classic way, and so on.”

“It is the same with art. It is important to study the basic classic fundamentals. Diego Rivera, the great Mexican muralist, for example, moved through all the periods during his evolution as a painter, and some of his earlier work resembles Durer, Leonardo da Vinci, or Raphael.

“It is the same with music. First you learn Bach, then Mozart, Handel, Haydn, and then the modern composers. If you don’t learn this way, you fail most of the time.

“With language, this approach is similar to the way you learned as a child--modeling, imitation and correction. It is the way a mother teaches her children.

The modeling, and this personal approach, is an important part of teaching, says Mondragon. “The good violin teacher models the way a violin is held. If he or she only sits and listens and corrects, that is not a good teacher. A good teacher plays with the student.

“You can’t learn the violin by correspondence. Words don’t help much. And it’s short steps--not big moments.

“I continue to take lessons, too. I have studied the last five years with Noumi Fisher in Los Angeles. He is very respected. He is really a master.”

It is important, Mondragon says, to find the right teacher. “There is the student, and there is the teacher--and finally they meet.”

Mondragon takes pride not only in his mellow brown violin but in a special chess set he owns. “A good chess set is like a fine violin. This set, a Staunton, was given to me by a student after I did a chess demonstration in his home. I use it only for analysis, not for play. It is the loveliest I’ve had. It is one of my treasures.”

Most of Mondragon’s chess expertise is self-taught. “Someone taught me the basics, then I read books. Later I had the opportunity to be near a chess grand master, Carlos Torre, and learn from him. Chess is an art. Some people play to beat, others play for the challenge, for still others what is important is the creative aspect.”

In 1958, Mondragon was the Mexican national chess champion, and 10 years ago played with the Mexican team in the international chess olympics in Munich.

As an artist and teacher in two cultures, Mondragon has a rare perspective. “Most of my friends are musicians or artists,” he said--as many from the United States as from Mexico.

“At least one thing is the same on both sides of the border, and in any country. The life of the artist or musician is much the same. And in the area of music, for example, all musicians want to play correctly. The artist dedicates his or her life to the art. . . .

“The life of the artist is hard. Making a living as a musician is hard everywhere, but we do it because we love it.”

He glanced toward the masks, perhaps reflecting in some way on his own many faces, the various roles he and everyone play each day.

“Did you know the Greek root word for ‘mask’ is the same as the root word for ‘person’? So, we are all persons, we are all masks together.”