As we approach the precipice of the Harlem/Havana Music & Cultural Festival, a nearly weeklong event from Aug. 15 to Aug. 21, it is difficult not to think of the great Cuban percussionist, conguero Chano Pozo. It’s not exactly a stretch to profile him here in the Classroom. True, his actual stay in Harlem and the U.S. was brief, but his influence reaches across generations.
That influence began in 1947, when Pozo, born Luciano Pozo Gonzales in Havana, Oct. 4, 1915, arrived in the U.S. and was introduced by his good friend, musician Mario Bauza, to Dizzy Gillespie. Gillespie was looking to add a conga player to his orchestra and Pozo turned out to be a godsend.
From his early years, Pozo expressed an interest in the drums, and his first public performances occurred within the various religious ceremonies, particularly Lucumi, where he began his apprenticeship as a sonero. He came of age in a largely African neighborhood, a former slave quarters. A child of the streets, Pozo, when he was learning the fundamentals of drumming, was an active participant in Havana’s underground economy, what is often defined as “thug life.”
After dropping out of school at an early age, Pozo was often involved in street rumbles, drinking and generally running afoul of the law, so much so, that as a teenager he was arrested and confined to a youth reformatory. No records are available to cite the charges that led to his confinement, although he was known to be ready with his fists as well as being one not indifferent to petty crimes. It was at the reformatory that he acquired a modicum of education, learning to read and to write and learning auto mechanics. Of course, there was ample time to perfect his skills on the drums.
These were also opportunities for him to devote time to Santeria, the traditional religious beliefs of the Yoruba people of Nigeria. The religion was a merger of Catholic and Yoruba rituals, and the synchronism was most pronounced in music and dance, both at which Pozo would almost immediately excel. Whenever Pozo was seen wearing a red scarf it signified his belief in Santeria.
After release from the reformatory, Pozo tried several occupations, none of which suited his temperament or outlook. However, once he began hawking newspapers and gaining recognition and commercial success, he was hired by the paper’s publisher to be his chauffeur and bodyguard. If rumors are correct, Pozo was also a strong-arm man assigned to collect debts owed to his boss. Even so, there was plenty time for his drums, fighting and chasing women.
But it was success as a musician that began to earn him a more respectable reputation. An assignment to write music for the nightly competitive carnivals afforded yet another route of expression as a composer. He was so good at composing that his creativity was sought by promoters all over Cuba. Soon, he was leading his own groups through the streets of Havana, putting his own unique touch on the style known as rumbero. To the people on the streets of the city, he was a national hero.
In 1940, one of his compositions, a collaboration with other musicians, won first prize in the city of Santiago de Cuba’s carnival in 1940. The song, “Los Comparsa de los Dandys,” was the unofficial theme song of the city, and for many years a popular standard performed by musical groups throughout the island nation.
Along with his musical breakthroughs, Pozo was also determined to open the doors for musicians of color at the major hotels. He was a drum major, so to speak, of the island’s darker skinned musicians, many of whom were shunned by the luxury hotels and the radio stations.
Later, he was employed by the owner of one of the radio stations as a bouncer, and his impressive size was often enough to discourage the most demonstrative crowds. Employment at Cadena Azul, the radio station, only enhanced his popularity.
His fame and recognition on the island were spread abroad by tourists who happened to hear him play.
When he auditioned for Gillespie, the bandleader did not hesitate to bring him into his orchestra. During his brief tenure with Gillespie, including a memorable performance at Carnegie Hall on Sept. 29, 1947, Pozo demonstrated the talent that had secured his prowess in Cuba. In the following months, he toured with the Gillespie band and contributed such compositions as “Manteca” and “Tin Tin Deo.” His dynamic rhythmic concepts were often the highlight of a performance, especially his solo on “Cubana Be, Cubana Bop.”
According to several accounts, Pozo was shot and killed Dec. 2, 1948, at the El Rio Bar at 111th Street and Lenox Avenue. The assailant was Eusebio “Cabito” Munoz, who was accused by Pozo of selling him some inferior, low -quality marijuana.
Munoz is forgotten, but Pozo lives beyond his grave in the Colon Cemetery in Havana. In fact, he was a pioneer in the Latin American/Jazz connection that sprung up and flowered in the 1940s and 1950s.
Chucho Valdes, the phenomenal Cuban pianist and composer, summarized Pozo’s influence this way: “It’s amazing. Latin jazz was born in New York with Mario Bauzá, Chano Pozo, Dizzy Gillespie and others. It was called Afro-Cuban because they added Afro-Cuban drums into Dizzy’s band. It was a fusion of many elements.”
Pozo’s memory and the sound of his bata drums are sure to be invoked during the Harlem/Havana Music & Cultural Festival.
