Summer 2000 in Newark / Harrison / Kearny / Wilson Avenue

 

Bridge over Passaic River linking Newark to Harrison and Kearny. 

Newark & Harrison.

Corner of Barbara Street and Wilson Avenue. where I first lived when I moved into the States in 1971. 

Wilson Avenue with Rome Street on the left and Jabez Street on the right. 

Newark's Ironbound section. 

Background of my visits to the USA 1971 - 1975 - 1989 - 2000 & 2001

After I left the USA in late 1976, my life took a different turn. At first I intended my Brazilian stay to be short but it ended up lasting 5 years until, finally, I migrated to Sydney, Australia in September 1981. After living in Oz for most of the 1980s, and having got my permanent residency papers sorted out, I bought myself a round-the-world ticket from Aerolineas Argentinas-KLM. 

First I visited my family in São Paulo, staying with them for 5 months, then I flew over to NYC in the late spring of 1989, but spent only a few days there, contrary to my original intention. I had planned to stay in the USA for the summer. I intended to visit the Catskills and maybe find a job at the Nevele Country Club in Ellenville, N.Y., make a little money and continue flying to Europe where I had a few capital cities to visit. It didn't turn out that way so before the week was done I left Newark, N.J., went to JFK, jumped back into a KLM jet and flew to Amsterdam, Rome, London and back to Sydney before the Northern summer was over. 

The 1990s flew by like a speeding bullet. By December 1998, I was back in Brazil to stay. Then, for some unexpected reason I flew back to Sydney in mid-April 2000, but stayed there only about 6 weeks. At 51 years old, instead of flying back straight to São Paulo I decided to go down Memory Lane and fly to the USA on my way back to Brazil. 

I bought a ticket from Japan Airlines that would take me to Tokyo's Narita Airport, stay there overnight and fly Tokyo-New York City non-stop, the following day. As soon as I got to JFK, I took a bus to Manhattan and from there the PATH train on the 33rd St. Station to Newark, N.J., the place I felt I was home.

Eleven years later

When I arrived in Newark, on a Sunday, 28 May 2000, I left my luggage at Newark's Penn Station's luggage storage and went out on Ferry Street and vicinities to suss out the area after so many years' absence and see if I'd meet any Brazilian bloke I could ask about accomodation. 

Newark hadn't changed much in 30 years. Especially the Ironbound section seemed mostly the same. Brazilians were everywhere. Going into Seabra, a big supermarket on Lafayette Street which caters for Brazilians, Portuguese and Latin Americans in general, I heard them talk among themselves and realized there were lots of people from Paraná and Rio Grande do Sul and especially a lot of Brazilian women which were almost non-existent in the 1970s. 

'Tia' Eugênia was the person I missed most in 2000 Newark. Her newsagency on 112 Ferry Street was no more.

Soon I noticed there were several evangelical churches that catered to the Brazilian community with worships in Portuguese, which was unheard of in the 1970s. I went into several Brazilian stores to see if anyone could give me any tips on how to find accommodation, but I was treated coldly by most of the shop keepers which was very different from the 1970s where people showed a little more solidarity to their counterparts. Nobody was forthcoming with information. It was a Sunday afternoon, and I continued walking along Ferry Street. 

Suddenly, a young man standing on a corner, handed me a leaflet in Portuguese inviting people to worship at a certain church. I took the flyer and we started talking. Apparently, he was a newly convert to the evangelical faith. I told him I had just arrived from overseas and he tried to help me somehow. He took me to some houses he knew Brazilian lodgers lived in, but there seemed to be no vacancies anywhere. In the meantime, he gave me some tips on how not to fall into bad company and enter the world of drugs. It must have been the drama of his life until he found refuge in his church. If he only knew I was long past that stage in life.

Even with the help of the evangelical young fellow, I ended up not finding accommodation in any of the places I was recommended. I was already thinking about going back to Manhattan when I hit the jackpot. 

I entered an imports-outlet called 'Vem Q Tem', on Merchant Street, the same street where the Ironbound Post Office used to be in the 1970s. The guy at the counter, a Brazilian bloke called Carlos was very friendly and soon we were talking to each other like there was no tomorrow. We became friends almost instantly. He eventually told me he was born in São Paulo, in 1959, therefore 10 years younger than myself. He'd arrived in the USA in 1979, eight years after my first trip.

By the time Carlos shut the store for the Sunday, I had told him the story of my life and he had told me his. I went with him past the place he lived on Polk Street and over to a 3-story house on New York Avenue where Nelly, a Chilean lady he knew lived. He spoke to Nelly (real name: Rubmela) and she immediately rented me a room next to hers and her boyfriend Gordon, who she called ‘Gordo’. I was happy to be back in the heart of the Ironbound, a section of Newark I spent an important part of my youth in the 1970s. 

There was a small Public Library on Van Buren St. I used to go in to use their computer. They had few computers and I was told if I went to the Newark's Public Library on Broad Street I would have a better chance and that's what I did. I started walking downtown and visit the Public Library every morning. When I first lived in Newark I hardly ever went downtown except to shop at Two Guys and sometimes to the movies when I didn't want to take the train to Manhattan.

I also made a point of going places I had never been like walking up Wilson Avenue past the Go-go Bar on Barbara Street, where I had lived in the latter part of 1971. Believe it or not, I had never been to the Newark International Airport except once, in April 1972, when I flew over to San Francisco. I must have taken a cab from the Ironbound to get there. 

I turned right from Ferry Street into Jackson Street and walked crossed the bridge over the Passaic River to Harrison-Kerney, N.J. I even made a point of getting as far as the Harrison PATH station and got onto the train bound to 33rd Street in Manhattan. 

I felt a funny feeling in my gut when I saw the train arriving in Harrison from Newark. It reminded me of the times I and Damazio used to take that same train in February 1972 to go to 9th Street to take an English course at New York University. Then the ground was covered with snow though.

Path train leaves Newark Penn Station. See both Gateway 1 & Gateway 2 buildings on the background. 

Path train arrives in Harrison on its way to the World Trade Center station.

São Paulo, 11 August 2002.

Dear Damazio

Long time no see!  I'd like to tell you about my latest escapades. I was in Sydney in April-May 2000, and decided to fly Japan Airlines to São Paulo with a stopover in Tokyo then all the way non-stop to New York City where I intended to go down Memory Lane and reminisce about all those years ago.

I hope you and your family are doing well. While in Newark, I wrote a letter to a Brazilian monthly paper called 'Brazilian Voice' (any resemblance to 'Village Voice' is not purely coincidental) telling about how it used to feel to be an Illegal Immigrant in the USA, in the early 1970s. I mentioned Dentinho's sad story of being caught speeding at the Pulaski Skyway and subsequent deportation back to Brazil. I'm sending you a copy of the letter they printed in their May-June 2000 edition. I tried to compare what I lived in 1971-1972-1973 with today, the Northern Summer of 2001.

From mid-to-late May and mid-June 2000, I ended up sub-letting a room within the apartment of a Chilean lady called Nelly, née Rubmela, who was 82 years old and lived with a much younger American man called Gordon. She & Gordo (that's how she called him) used only the front bedroom and the kitchen in the back. Gordo works night shift as a security guard in some industrial plant. 

Nelly was retired and made a little money for herself renting a large apartment, then partitioned it in various 'sections' she sub-let to single Latin American single men. Such arrangement was on the 2nd floor of a 3-story house, on New York Avenue next to the Independence County Park, Brazilians used to call Mosquito Park. I remember you taking me there once in 1972 and calling it Parque dos Mosquitos. 

Nelly learned this business in Alaska, during the 70s & 80s, when she did the same allotments with large houses and catered to mostly Latin American men who worked in the oil industry during its boom.

During my stay in Newark, there was a great event in the Ironbound. Saturday, 10 and Sunday, 11 June 2000, there was a huge fair called Portugal Day with lots of food, music and amusement. Actually it was their 21st edition which means the 1st such a fair was done in 1979. They closed off Ferry Street and some side-streets going all the way down to Penn Station, set their stands & stalls waiting for the 300,000 visitors who visited it in search of fun. 

I was surprised by the great numbers of Portuguese nationals there...it seemed like double or triple the amount of those in the 1970s. The Portuguese are more affluent too. Even TAP (Transportes Aéreos Portugueses) has got a state-of-the-art dark-glassed building next to Penn Station. Remember that railway that crossed over Ferry Street between Prospect St and Congress St? They've built a Portuguese restaurant with a huge parking lot called Iberia Park. 

I've noticed Puertoriqueños have vanished from the Ironbound having been superseded by a lot of people from Ecuador. They own a lot of small business, like an international-phone exchange on Ferry Street near Saint Stephen's and the largest taxicab fleet in the region. 

Brazucas abound! Probably 4 (or more) times greater than the number we used to know in the early 1970s. There is a lot of small business owned by Brazilians which cater exclusively for them. Brazilian stores that provide VHS cartridges containing chapters of the latest tele-novela made by TV Globo in Rio. 'Programa do Ratinho' beamed by SBT is also a favourite of the masses. Brazucas have a fetish for Brazilian pain-killers and birth-control pills. It seems they believe the brand from the old country is superior to the American counter-part.  

In addition to the greater number of “Portugas” (derogative form of Portuguese used by low-class Brazilians) the number of 'Brazucas' also tripled or quadrupled. There are multiple Brazilian stores that sell everything;  from VHS tapes of SBT’s “Programa do Ratinho” to guava jam (goiabada) made by Cica and things like that. One can find almost anything from Brazil there.  On Adams Street there is a mini shopping-mall where the majority of stores are owned by Brazilians;  hairdressers, accounting agents who send dollars to Brazil, travel agents etc. In this mall you will see dozens of Brazilian bumpkins (matutos) chatting about Atlético or Cruzeiro; how to work in constructions, how to get a fake Social Security card which costs between 50 and 60 dollars etc.  

If you still have your Social Security card, keep it, as it is currently nearly impossible to get a real one unless one is a permanent resident. Fake numbers are everywhere. They invent a number, print a fake SS card on home computers. Employers usually accept it. Banks don't accept it, so it's difficult to open a bank account, which leads to bizarre facts. I went to interpret for a Brazuca in Plymouth-MA and noticed he was carrying a wallet stuffed with 50 and 100-dollar bills. I asked him why he carried so much money. He said he didn't have a bank account and he didn't trust leaving money at home. He was a “walking bank”.

The Social Security Department itself accepts contributions sent by the employer using fake numbers. Once a year the Department sends a letter warning the taxpayer to check if the number is correct, but they never send any money back. In other words, everyone pretends they don't know anything about it so America keeps getting richer and no one asks questions! 

Getting a driver's license without a real SS card is mission: impossible.  A fake green card is also easy to get. I paid $170 for mine, but I ended up using it only once. I used my old Social Security and got myself a provisional driver's license in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts; that's the official name of the State of Massachusetts.

Having a real Social Security card is a status symbol among Brazucas. Even if you have lost the document but remember the number, the SS counts. I lost my original SS card long ago and so I tried to get me a duplicate. I went to the Newark Federal Building on Broad Street. Remember we used to dread getting near this building for it was the place illegal immigrants were taken to when arrested by the Police? An employee there insisted on seeing my Green Card;  I had taken my Australian passport in case I needed to identify myself. As she insisted a lot, I ended up showing my passport. She checked the type of visa I had, and said it was not suitable for working. Note that I already had my SS card. I just wanted a duplicate, with the same number, as they changed the layout. But faced with so much difficulty, I decided not to insist any further, I said ‘Thank you’, and I slipped away.

Entering any federal building after the Oklahoma City Federal Building was blown up in 1996, is a true war operation.  You have to go through metal detectors; sometimes being searched by policemen 'in the flesh”, etc.  And this was all before what the Yankees call 9/11 (September, 11th, 2001.  Imagine now what paranoia it must be like.  

It is also interesting to note that just at this very summer of 2000, I went to the World Trade Center with Carlos Oliveira, a Brazilian shop-keeper & taxi driver I became friends with. He needed a license to import “trinkets” from Brazil so he could open a “Brazilian store” in Newark.  We went to one of the Twin Towers, where the New York-New Jersey Port Authority, which actually owns the WTC towers and ground. Many New Jersey municipalities make their offices in the towers. 

I took some photos of Newark I'd like to show you when we have a chance to meet. In fact, if you went there tomorrow, I think you wouldn't find much of a difference in the city from those early 1970s. 

Pathmark moved from Wilson Avenue - where one entered it from a side street - to Ferry Street, passing Saint Stephen's Lutheran Church in the direction of the New Jersey Turnpike. They tore down two blocks of houses there, building a huge Pathmark within a mall with a kind of a plaza that takes Niagara St., Wescot St. and Fillmore St., where you'll find the Ironbound Post Office, laundries etc. 

But otherwise, almost everything remains the same.  The PATH train [Port Authority Trans-Hudson, did you know?] is still the same;  with trains, which I believe are the same ones we took to go to New York University every Saturday to take that English course, remember? Those trains are over 20 years old.  Of course, the PATH no longer goes to downtown Manhattan, as the WTC station no longer exists by the work and grace of Allah.  But he still goes to midtown-Manhattan, stopping first in Harrison, Jersey City [Journal Square], Hoboken [where Frank Sinatra was born, you know?], Christopher Street [in the Village], 14th, 23rd, 28th and finally 33rd Street.

I found the Brazilian Press there very interesting, as there are a lot of publications. There are two newspapers in Newark alone. There's another one in Flamingham, Massachusetts, and others that I don't even know where they're based at. Most of them are weekly tabloid newspapers.  They are regularly distributed free of charge in “Brazilian stores”, which end up being meeting centers for Brazilians.  But you can find them in beauty salons, travel agencies, grocery stores, bars, etc. Many people, if they don't read them, at least see the photos in these newspapers.

The intellectual level of the Brazucas in general, I found to be much worse than in our time.  Of course there are the most studied guys; I even saw some Gauchos at the Newark Public Library using the Internet; but the vast majority are semi-illiterate people, who come from all over Brazil.  Now there are a lot of people from Paraná there and it's funny, because you often think the guy is American, because he's blond and blue-eyed, and the guy opens his mouth and says: “I put the letter in the mail!”  It's no wonder that Ratinho is their idol!   I could never write this for the newspaper, but I can write it for you!

Could it be ‘our time’ in Newark was better! I guess so!  At that time, Brazucas didn't speak English, but compared to today, things got worse, because so-and-so has Globo Cable at home and don't watch North American TV at all. Now there is VCR (video-cassette recorder) and families, when they are not watching Globo, can watch sermons from a local “evangelical pastor” or programs from Brazil. There is a great number of evangelical churches; more or less reflecting what happens in Brazil. If at that time it was difficult for Brazucas to learn English, now it is almost impossible.

WABC reigned back then, remember?  Now it's not like that anymore.  I don't know which radio station is successful, but even the Top 40 was destroyed.  In fact, I found a super incredible website from the old WABC Music Radio on the Internet, and there I found out what happened to the “Top 40’s radio stations”.  The market has become “segmented”;  that is, rappers listen to rap radio;  Latinos listen to Latino stations;  teeny boppers listen to their radio stations, etc.  So things changed a lot there.  Before it was more “democratic”... WABC and the others played everything.  The Brazucas, poor things, are completely alienated;  much more than in “our time”.

  

Today's Newark, at times, seemed to me as if it were a “middle class” neighborhood in Brazil, except that the little guys “cruising” Ferry Street were passing by in “imported cars”, with their stereos “blasting” Chitãozinho & Chororó or some group of Pagode;  I even heard Racionais MC’s on the streets of Newark.  This happens when any of these pagode groups or country duos are not performing “live” in a club or stadium there.  You know that money runs wild in the U.S. There you see the “color of money”... you see “greenbacks” in droves... and people really spend it;  bring Chitãozinho, Daniel, Zé Camargo & Luciano... you name it and they will pay the right price. 

Very different from ‘our time’, when we listened to John Lennon, Badfinger, Al Green, Roberta Flack, Chicago and even Spanish salsa groups.

In the short time I was there I had the chance to witness that the drug problem is still the same as it was then, if not worse, as there is now a lot of Heroin there.  In the winter of 2000 I lived in a cellar that was nothing more than a “tenement” that reminded me a lot of the “other” tenement that I lived in in the winter of 1971. There was a knife fight between a Capixaba man and a Lisbon man.  They told me that the issue was drug [heroin].  There are many people who work all week to throw their entire salary into the hands of “heroin drug dealers”.  Disgusting!  But I think this is part of the “Immigrant Anguish”, which we already know.

I went down “Memory Lane”, as they say!  I walked along those streets that led to the old Francis Street Record Factory.  The factory no longer exists, but the building is there almost identically.  It gave me a shiver down my spine looking at that street.  It even seemed that deep inside they were “cooking” vynil paste, which would then come to our heated metal tables, for us, the cutters, to cut and do our 45 r.p.m.’s.  I even heard the voice of that Puertorriqueño Mike saying: “Como le gusta?  Do you like it fat and wide?”  That Black lady [Anna, according to you] who “made” plastic ashtrays [night shift], whose husband came to pick her up in the morning with a Lincoln Continental.

Remember that couple from Puertoriqueños who did “long-playing”?  I only made compacts!  Did those who made LPs earn more?  I think so, because we, who made compacts, were “discriminated against”.  The Puertoriqueña woman had huge braids.  Do you remember her?   Do you remember those two Peruvians; one called Maria and the other looked like a little boy.  They said they were “affairs”! 

 

Speaking of Peruvians, I remember that there was one of them who was Japanese and was very good people... I don't remember his name now, but I remember that he always hummed “Something” [he only sang the part of “I don't know, I don't know”], “Where do I begin?” [“Love story Love Theme” with Andy Williams] and I liked Nicola di Bari.  He said that Sergio Murilo [remember “Marcianita”?] was a big hit in Peru.

In the letter I sent to “Brazilian Voice” I mention Dentinho. Now I remember that his name was Luiz something.  I was known as Carlos at the factory. Carlitos for the Hispanics. I think v. I didn’t get to know him, as he also did “night shift”;  he delivered folders and was a very funny little guy;  he had a beard and mustache and was very young; in fact, like most of us, he would not be more than 21 years old.  He lived with Alfredo and G. [I'm not sure of his name], a good-looking guy with blue [or green] eyes, who had a Mustang and seemed to be the leader of the household.  The three were from Franco da Rocha in a rented house on Wilson Avenue, close to the Saint Stephen church [which has now become practically “Brazilian”, as the Sunday services are with a Brazilian Pastor].

One night I went to their house and they asked me to take my LPs that I had bought at ‘Two Guys’, a department store on Broad Street.  I remember there was a sound track from the movie 'West Side Story', and the boys thought it was 'strange' that I liked that type of music, especially after hearing 'Tonight' with Marnie Nixon singing with a Puerto Rican accent. .  They laughed, and I didn't really like the reaction.  There was a Donovan LP and a few others that I can't remember at the moment. 

On the Sunday afternoon that “Dentinho” was arrested on the Pulaski Skyway, he had stopped by my house [I lived above the aforementioned go-go bar] and we went out for a “ride” in his car.  After we drove around aimlessly for a while, he dropped me off at home. It was a cold autumn afternoon, just when we immigrants missed Brazil the most.  Before going up to my room, I spent a little time with Dentinho, who put a 'quarter' on the juke-box in the semi-deserted bar and listened to “Long ago tomorrow”, by B.J. Thomas.  It was his favorite song then. It was the last time I saw him.  Minutes later he was stopped for speeding; the “cops” wanted to see your documents; he took the police to his house;  There they saw the passport with his visa already expired, and besides Dentinho, the other two friends also “danced”.  It was very sad because they were all “nice” guys, despite being legally “illegal”.  It was the biggest buzz at Synthetic Plastics Co. on Monday, because in addition to Dentinho, Alfredo also worked there in the afternoon.  They were deported to Brazil at the end of 1971.

O Pathmark mudou-se dalí de traz da Wilson Avenue para Ferry Street, lá depois que Ferry ‘vira’ em direção à New Jersey Turnpike. Derrubaram dois quarteirões de casas dalí, construindo um imenso Pathmark em um e uma espécie de ‘plaza’ em frente ao mercado, onde há uma agência do Post Office, laundry, etc. 

Mas de resto, continua quase que tudo igual.  O trem PATH [Port Authority Trans-Hudson, você sabia?] ainda é o mesmo;  com trens,  que acredito,  sejam os mesmos que nós tomávamos para irmos à New York University todo sábado para fazer aquele curso de Inglês, lembra? Aqueles trens tem mais de 20 anos.  Lógicamente que o PATH não vai mais para downtown Manhattan, pois a estação WTC não existe mais por obra e graça de Allah.  Mas ele ainda vai para midtown-Manhattan, parando primeiro em Harrison, Jersey City [Journal Square], Hoboken [onde nasceu o Frank Sinatra, sabia?], Christopher Street [no Village], 14th, 23rd, 28th e finalmente 33rd Street.

Eu achei muito interessante a Imprensa Brasileira lá, pois há bastante publicações. São dois jornais somente em Newark. Há outro em Flamingham, em Massachusetts, e outros que nem sei onde estão baseados. São jornais tabloides semanais em sua maioria.  São distribuídos gratuitamente regularmente em “lojas Brasileiras”, que acabam sendo centros de encontros de Brasileiros.  Mas você pode encontra-los em salões de beleza, agências-de-viagem, mercadinhos, bares, etc. Muita gente, se não lê, pelo menos vê as fotos desses jornais.  

O nível intelectual dos Brazucas em geral,  eu achei bem pior do que no nosso tempo.  Lógicamente existem os caras mais estudados; vi até uns Gaúchos na Public Library de Newark usando a Internet; mas a grande maioria é de gente semi-analfabeta, que vem de todos os lugares do Brasil.  Agora há muitos Paranaenses por lá e é gozado, pois muitas vezes você pensa que o sujeito é Americano, pois é loiro de olhos azuis, e o cara abre a boca e fala:  “Eu ponhei a carta no correio!”  Não é atôa que o Ratinho é ídolo deles!   Isso eu nunca poderia escrever para o jornal, mas posso escrever para você!

Eu acho que o ‘nosso tempo’ era melhor!  Pode ser?  Acho que pode!  Naquele tempo os Brazucas não falavam o Inglês, mas comparando com os dias de hoje, a coisa piorou, pois fulano tem a Globo Cabo em casa e não assiste TV Norte-americana de maneira alguma.  Agora há VCR e as famílias, quando não estão assistindo a Globo, podem ver sermões de “pastor evangélico” local ou programas vindo do Brasil.  Há uma proliferação de igrejas evangélicas;  mais ou menos que acompanhando o que está acontecendo aqui no Brasil. Se naquele tempo os Brazucas já dificilmente aprendiam Inglês, agora é praticamente impossível. 

Naquele tempo a WABC reinava, lembra-se?  Agora não é mais assim.  Não sei qual radio faz sucesso, mas até o Top 40 foi pulverizado.  Na verdade eu achei um site super incrível da antiga WABC Music Radio na Internet, e por lá eu fiquei sabendo o que aconteceu com as “Top 40’s radio stations”.  O mercado se “segmentalisou”;  ou seja, rappers ouvem radio rap;  Latinos ouvem Latino stations;  teeny boppers ouvem suas radios, etc.  Então as coisas mudaram bastante por lá.  Antes era mais “democrático”... a WABC e as outras tocavam de tudo.  Os Brazucas, coitados, ficam totalmente alienados;  muito mais do que no “nosso tempo”.  

Newark atual, as vezes, me pareceu como se fosse um bairro de “classe media” do Brasil, só que os carinhas “cruising” a Ferry Street passavam de “carro importado”, com seus stereos “blasting” Chitãozinho & Chororó ou algum grupo de Pagode;  até Racionais MC’s eu ouvi nas ruas de Newark.  Isso quando algum desses conjuntos de pagode ou dupla sertaneja não estão se apresentando “ao vivo” em algum clube ou estádio por lá.  Você sabe que o dinheiro corre solto nos U.S. Lá você vê a “cor do dinheiro”... você vê “verdinhas” aos montes... e o pessoal gasta mesmo;  trazem Chitãozinho, Daniel, Zé Camargo & Luciano... you name it and they will pay the right price. 

Bem diferente do ‘nosso tempo’, quando escutávamos John Lennon, Badfinger, Al Green, Roberta Flack, Chicago e até conjuntos hispanos de salsa.  

Do pouco tempo que fiquei por lá tive a chance de testemunhar que o problema de drogas ainda é o mesmo daquele tempo, se não for pior, pois agora há muita Heroína por lá.  No Inverno de 2000 eu morei num ‘cellar’ que não passava de um “cortiço” que me lembrou muito o “outro” cortiço que eu morei no Inverno de 1971.  Houve uma briga de faca entre um Capixaba e um Lisboeta.  Me disseram que a questão era de droga [heroína].  Há muita gente que trabalha a semana inteira para jogar seu salário todinho na mão de “heroin drug dealers”.  Disgusting!  Mas acho que isso faz parte da “Immigrant anguish”, que nós já conhecemos.

I went down “Memory Lane”, como se diz!  Andei por aquelas ruas que levavam à antiga Fabrica de Discos da Francis Street.  A fábrica não existe mais, mas o edifício está lá quase que idêntico.  Me deu até um arrepio na espinha de olhar aquela rua.  Parecia até que lá no fundo estavam “cozinhando” pasta de vynil, que depois viriam até nossas mesinhas metálicas aquecidas,  para nós, os cortadores, cortarmos e fazermos nossos 45 r.p.m.’s.  Até ouvi a voz daquele Puertorriqueño Mike dizendo: “Como le gusta?  Le gusta gorda y larga?”.  Aquela senhora Negra [Anna, segundo você] que “fazia” cinzeiros de plástico [night shift] , cujo marido a vinha buscar de manhã com um Lincoln Continental. 

Lembra daquele casal de Puertoriqueños que fazia “long-playings”?  Eu só fazia compactos!  Quem fazia lps ganhava mais?  Acho que sim, pois nós, que fazíamos compactos éramos “discriminados”.  A mulher Puertoriqueña usava umas tranças enormes.  Lembra-se dela?   Você se lembra daquelas duas Peruanas; uma chamada Maria e a outra parecia um rapazinho.  Diziam que elas eram “caso”!  

Por falar em Peruanos, me lembro que havia um deles que era Japonês e era muito boa gente... não me lembro do nome dele agora, mas me lembro que sempre cantarolava “Something” [só cantava a parte do “I don’t know, I don’t know”],  “Where do I begin?” [“Love story Love Theme” com o Andy Williams] e gostava do Nicola di Bari.  Ele dizia que o Sergio Murilo [lembra-se de “Marcianita”?] fazia grande sucesso no Peru.

Na carta que enviei ao “Brazilian Voice” eu cito o Dentinho. Agora me lembro que ele se chamava Luiz alguma-coisa.  Eu era conhecido como Carlos na fábrica. Carlitos para os Hispanos. Acho que v. não chegou a conhecê-lo, pois ele fazia o “night shift” também;  ele entregava pasta e era um carinha muito divertido;  tinha uma barbinha e bigode e era bem novinho; aliás, como a maioria de nós, não teria mais de 21 anos.  Ele morava com o Alfredo e o G. [não tenho certeza desse nome], um rapaz bem aparentado de olhos azuis [ou verdes], que tinha um Mustang e parecia ser o líder da ‘household’.  Os três eram de Franco da Rocha numa casa alugada na Wilson Avenue, perto da igreja  Saint Stephen [que atualmente se tornou praticamente “Brasileira”, pois os cultos de domingos são com uma Pastora Brasileira].

Certa noite eu fui na casa deles e pediram para que eu levasse meus LP’s que eu tinha comprado na ‘Two Guys’, loja de departamentos lá na Broad Street.  Me lembro que tinha a ‘sound-track’ do filme ‘West Side Story’, e os rapazes acharam ‘estranho’ eu gostar daquele tipo de musica, principalmente depois de ouvirem ‘Tonight’ com a Marnie Nixon cantando com sotáque de porto-riquenha.  Deram risadas, e eu não gostei muito da reação.  Tinha LP do Donovan e mais alguns que não lembro no momento. 

No domingo à tarde que o “Dentinho” foi preso na Pulaski Skyway, ele tinha passado em casa [eu morava em cima do go-go bar já mencionado] e saímos para dar um “rolê” no carro dele.  Depois de girarmos meio sem destino por algum tempo, ele me deixou em casa. Era uma tarde fria de Outono, justamente quando nós imigrantes mais sentíamos falta do Brasil.  Antes de subir para meu quarto eu ainda fiquei um pouco com o Dentinho, que colocou uma ‘quarter’ no juke-box do bar semi-deserto e escutou “Long ago tomorrow”, do B.J. Thomas.  Era sua música favorita então. Foi a ultima vez que eu o vi.  Minutos depois ele foi parado por estar em alta velocidade; os “cops” quiseram ver seus documentos; ele levou os policiais até sua casa;  lá viram o passaporte com seu visto já vencido, e alem do Dentinho, os outros dois amigos também “dançaram”.  Foi muito triste pois todos eles eram caras “legais”, apesar de serem juridicamente “ilegais”.  Foi o maior buchicho na Synthetic Plastics Co. na  segunda-feira, pois além do Dentinho, o Alfredo também trabalhava lá, no período da tarde.  Eles foram deportados para o Brasil no final do ano de 1971. 

Pelo que eu me lembro você chegou aos U.S. no inicio de 1972, certo?  Você saberia a razão do porque ter tanta gente de Franco da Rocha?  Por que Guarulhos também? 

Por falar na fabrica de discos, você chegou a conhecer um Português que trabalhava no Escritório da companhia que era muito “friendly” com Brasileiros?  O nome dele era Arthur.  Na verdade ele era gay [enrustido] e estava sempre “on the prowl” na comunidade Brasiliana.  Não sei se você notou, mas havia muito mais homens que mulheres naquela época, o que facilitava o homossexualismo.  Atualmente é bem diferente;  logicamente ainda existe homossexualismo, mas a presença de mulheres Brasileiras é muito grande [esse assunto também não daria para escrever no jornal].