Honoring a Musician Who Bridged Cultures

In Hollywood, 7 a.m. is far too early for vigils. Even for the King of Latin Music.

On Sunday morning outside Mann’s Chinese Theatre, there is only a worker hosing down the sidewalk, wiping away the night’s grime and desperation. The bright sun glints off the gold stars on this stretch of Hollywood Boulevard.

Soon, an enormous van parks. Three men emerge and unload a battery of percussion instruments--congas, bongos, maracas and clave sticks. They start arranging the drums like an altar at a star already marked by bouquets, votive candles and wilting red roses.

At the center of this sidewalk shrine, they place a pair of timbales, those distinctive, steel-cased drums. You don’t have to read the name on the star to know who is being honored.

Tito Puente, El Rey del Timbal, had died four days earlier. In his native New York, superstars and cabbies alike lined up early Sunday to pay their final respects to the musician from Spanish Harlem laid to rest all in white.

The vigil in L.A. has a lonelier start. Only the organizers, a handful of mostly middle-aged Nuyoricans dressed in black T-shirts, are on hand for the first two hours. Yet, their mood is as upbeat as the joyful solos of their departed idol.

Early-bird tourists stop briefly to inspect the musical memorial as Puente tunes blare from a boombox, just as they’ve been heard for 50 years from barrio storefronts and front porches.

A teenager, her hair punked-up and jewelry jabbed into her lip and eyebrow, stares at the sidewalk.

“Tito Puente,” the young woman says. “He was, like, the Mambo King. Like back in the ‘40s, right?”

Pretty sharp for a 16-year-old San Diegan into hip-hop and classic rock. How does she know?

Well, answers Jessica Hoopengardner, back in grammar school she performed in a musical play, called “Jazz in America.” She and other members of the chorus walked on stage one by one and named famous figures from the ‘40s and ‘50s. Billie Holiday, Duke Ellington, Miles Davis, Nat Cole.

And Tito Puente--the bandleader who transcended styles, eras, boundaries and ethnic tastes.

“It’s just a name that has seeped into every genre of music,” Alan Geik, one of L.A.’s most knowledgeable Latin music deejays, said in an interview. “The name resonates to everybody throughout the world.”

Geik can be heard on “Alma del Barrio,” the respected salsa program on Loyola Marymount’s KXLU-FM (88.9). Over the weekend, it was all Tito, all the time. A 22-hour marathon of energetic drum solos, bouncy horn riffs and gracefully layered arrangements.

The King just wanted to make people happy when he played. He said that many times before he died at 77, leaving behind saddened fans and canceled dates. But he actually had accomplished much more.

Puente means bridge in Spanish. That’s what Tito did for music. He bridged cultures and traditions.

Geik first saw Puente perform one summer in the early ‘60s while working as a busboy at Jewish resorts in the Catskills. Midnight jam sessions were a revelation.

Back in Manhattan, Geik saw the fusion of jazz and Latin when the greats of both genres gathered at clubs like Birdland and the Palladium. On Broadway nearby, American musicals yielded show tunes that made it into both repertoires.

“He came out of a very specific time in music history that can never be duplicated,” says Geik. “He was there at the most extraordinary time, with genres coming together physically. Tito is the link to that era.”

A decade later, Puente would also become a link to the West Coast when Carlos Santana recorded “Oye Como Va.” More bridges, this time to Mexican Americans and rock ‘n’ roll.

On Hollywood’s Walk of Fame, the vigil-keepers are standing in a circle discussing their hero. Big gestures and Brooklyn accents abound.

Puente had the barrio in him, they agree. He never lost that common touch. He’d remember you by name when he came to town, and he never acted too important to talk. He was a unifier, all right.

Strangely, one of the men is saying, Puente struggled to be fully accepted in Puerto Rico, his parents’ homeland. Sure they admired him, but there was still that barrier of bias. Puente was from New York--a Nuyorican--not from the island. Some preferred their home-grown artists, even less talented ones.

“It’s ironic, vaya,” says Carlos Mercado, 57, of Hawthorne, a truck driver born on the island and raised in the Big Apple.

That’s why it meant so much for Puente to perform in San Juan with the Symphonic Orchestra of Puerto Rico earlier this year. The sold-out performances were among his last.

“He realized his dream and he died,” says Mercado. “He finally was accepted by all, and he exited.”

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Agustin Gurza’s column appears Tuesday. Readers can reach Gurza at (714) 966-7712 or agustin.gurza@latimes.com.