Women Are Spicing Up the World of Mariachi Music

When Monica Trevino first heard Rebecca Gonzales perform at the Tucson national mariachi convention a few years ago, she thought: “If Rebecca Gonzales can do it, so can I.”

Trevino packed up her dreams with her violin and sombrero and came to Los Angeles. She auditioned with Mariachi Los Comperos de Nati Cano and won a place as a regular performer.

Today, because of Gonzales, a number of determined young women such as Trevino are chipping away at the fast-crumbling citadel of Mexican male supremacy: the mariachi profession.

Trevino, 23, is scheduled to perform with Los Comperos at Universal Studios Hollywood during the fifth annual International Mariachi Festival today and Sunday. Two-hour shows will begin at 2 and 5 p.m. each day.

Trevino, who grew up studying violin in Tucson, now appears regularly (so does Gonzales) at La Fonda Mexican Restaurant in the mid-Wilshire area.

“But really, we all have to give credit to Rebecca Gonzales,” Trevino says. “She was the one who had the guts to get in there and do it first.”

At 21, Rebecca Gonzales stormed into Los Angeles in 1975 and cracked the all-male mariachi market. But she paid her dues. A violin student since 10, Gonzales was discovered at San Jose State by Mark Fogelquist, who was teaching mariachi.

Fogelquist moved to Los Angeles and formed a group called Los Mariachis Uclatlan. Gonzales soon earned a spot in the band, not as a female vocalist or dancer--there had been many of those in mariachi--but playing violin.

After a year of professional performance with Fogelquist’s group, she went to hear Los Camperos, a fixture for decades at La Fonda. She was there as a diner, but was asked to perform. And, the rest is history.

Gonzales says “it wasn’t my intention” to create a legacy of female mariachis. “I only wanted to create music. But I defintely want to continue for as long as I can. I’ll always be a mariachi.”

Looking back, she can see she was blazing a trail for women, at least on the L.A. mariachi scene.

“At first, I picked up on an ever-so-slight male superiority attitude coming from some of the dozen or so male mariachis,” she says. “It vanished as they recognized my competence. But there were other things, like no one had thought about dressing room accommodations.”

She recalls having to travel by bus with the La Fonda group to out-of-town performances. The mariachis were accustomed to traveling sans women, and sometimes she couldn’t help overhearing conversations that turned her face red.

“But that was easily solved,” she says with a laugh. “I simply put on my radio headset and turned up the volume.”

Because of Gonzales, other women musicians have asked: Why not?

Laura Garcia, 34, is another Northern Californian who made it into the L.A. mariachi scene. She studied violin from childhood and eventually took a course in mariachi at UC Santa Cruz. She was a member in the touring Mariachis Imperial and now teaches mariachi at Los Cerritos College.

Jose Hernandez, who lead Mariachi Sol de Mexico with Garcia as a performer, recalls the first time Garcia lined up with the group on stage to perform. A grizzled veteran musician took one look at Garcia standing next to him in full mariachi regalia and packed up his fiddle. “I’ll not play with a female mariachi,” he announced, and stalked out.

“I let him go,” Hernandez says with pride. “He came back the next day and apologized to Laura. I gave him his job back.”

Cathy Marin, 23, learned violin at 12 in Tucson and started playing mariachi with a church group when she was 14. She attended medical school on a scholarship at the University of Arizona, got a degree in emergency medicine, but decided to give up her stethoscope for a violin and sombrero and the nomadic mariachi life.

“My first job was with a small group in La Habra,” she says. “They weren’t the greatest, but I was absorbing repertoire. That’s the most important thing for a mariachi. I stuck it out, making only $150 a week. I now make nearly that a night.

“Rebecca Gonzales was my idol. She was playing at the La Fonda then. I knew if she could get into the big time, I could too.”

Marin also has had negative experiences: “Yes, I can feel the animosity sometimes from the other mariachis. But they also know I gave up everything: home, family, medical career, because I want more than anything to play mariachi. I think they sometimes make me uncomfortable because they’re testing me. You know, to see if I’m really one of the guys. I’m not, and they’ll have to get used to it.”

When a woman mariachi walks out on stage, mariachi aficionados usually do a double-take. When 27-year-old Melanie Nolley walks on stage, they do a triple-take.

Nolley is black. She studied violin all her life but two Christmases ago, she became hooked on mariachi at an office party. She enrolled in a class at Los Cerritos College and she and the other women began performing with the Mariachis Halcones de Cerritos. Nolley, a fashion designer, has formed Mariachi Luna de Plata and makes the costumes.

Her bandmates include Kathy Dittrick, a violinist since age 9, and Ruth Gerardi and Berta Silva, among the few female vihuela players in the Southland. The vihuela (silent h ) is a small, guitar-like instrument strummed as much for its percussive as its melodic sound.

Nolley wants to form an entire ensemble (about 15 members) of women performers, but is having difficulties. She has not located any female trumpet players or guitarron players.

“But that will change. Somewhere, there are women who would like to play any instrument in a mariachi band, and lots of colleges are now offering instruction. The young mariachis like us lack the experience, but have the advantage of formal training and reading music. I just know an all-woman mariachi would be just about the best in the business.”