Tocando La Cucaracha
[Un agradecimiento muy especial a Chuck Ellis, John Burke, Los Cucarachos, Sr. German Correa a toda la Familia Correa]
(Español)Hay un viejo dicho que dice que si vienes a San Miguel, y no visitaste La Parroquia y no visitaste La Cucaracha, no visitaste San Miguel. La Cucaracha sido llamada la cantina más famosa del mundo. San Miguel posee ‘La Cuca', que ha sido un destino mundial para chupar por más de 50 años. En algún momento fue citado por la revista Esquire entre los primeros 10 bares para expatriados en el mundo. Ahora, en su sexta década de existencia, La Cuca no ha perdido nada de su discreto encanto o de su genuina personalidad.

Abierta al público por vez primera en agosto de 1947, se ubicaba originalmente donde ahora se encuentra Banamex, en la esquina noreste del jardín (¡¿Puedes imaginártelo?!). Inmediatamente se volvió popular entre los locales mexicanos y los extranjeros norteamericanos. Muchos americanos veteranos de la Segunda Guerra Mundial y de la Guerra de Corea encontraron el camino a San Miguel sobreviviendo con sus cheques del G.I. Bill. Ellos se inscribieron al Instituto Allende (y en ocasiones, algunos hasta fueron a clases) y pasaron mucho de su tiempo conmiserándose y cotorreando con viejos amigos entre tragos en La Cuca.
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[Very special thanks to Chuck Ellis, John Burke, Los Cucharachos, German Correa Senior and the entire Correa family.]
(English) There is an old saying that says if you come to San Miguel, and you don’t visit La Parroquia and you don’t visit La Cucaracha, then you didn’t visit San Miguel. It has been called the most famous cantina in the world. San Miguel’s own “Cuke” has been a worldwide destination watering hole for over fifty years. At one point in time it was rated by Esquire magazine to be one of the 10 best expatriate bars in the world. And now in its sixth decade of existence, La Cuca has not lost any of its discrete charm or genuine personality.

First opened on August XX, 1947, the bar originally stood where Banamex presently sits, on the northeast corner of the Jardin. (Can you even imagine?!) The bar was immediately popular with local Mexicans and North American expatriates alike. Many American World War II and Korean War veterans found their way to San Miguel riding on checks from the G.I. Bill. They enrolled at the Instituto Allende (and on occasion, some of them even went to class) and spent much of their days commiserating and cajoling with old friends over drinks at La Cuca.
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Mitchell Caton:
Still Life in Anonymity
By Daniel Kandell Zamudio
[Agradecimientos especiales a Tyler Mitchell y Jeff Huebner del Chicago Reader]
(Español) Theodore Burns Mitchell, conocido por muchos como Mitchell Caton, nació en 1930 en Hot Springs, Arkansas. El joven Caton estaba siempre encantado por la música, el jazz y el arte. Él comenzó dibujando y pintando a los 6 o 7 años de edad y fue un talento natural. Su madre lo motivaba a seguir dibujando y pintando, pero su padre no. Cuando Caton estaba en la preparatoria, su padre irrumpió en su cuarto y aventó todos sus lienzos y pinturas por la ventana. Le mostró un puñado de billetes que traía en la mano y le dijo a su hijo que esto era todo lo que importaba en la vida, esencialmente diciéndole que su sueño de convertirse en un artista era una estupidez. Tyler cree que su padre arrastró subconscientemente este incidente con él a lo largo de su vida entera y que lo inspiró y lo motivó todavía más.
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[Special Thanks to Tyler Mitchell & Jeff Huebner of the Chicago Reader]
(English) Theodore Burns Mitchell, known by many as Mitchell Caton, was born in May of 1930 in Hot Springs, Arkansas. Young Caton was always fascinated by music, jazz and art. He began drawing and painting when he was six or seven years old and was a natural talent. Caton’s mother encouraged her son to draw and paint but his father was not quite as supportive. When Caton was in high school, his father burst into his room and threw all his canvases and paintings out the window. His father brandished a fist full of money and told his son that this was all that mattered in life, essentially telling his son that his dream of becoming an artist was bullshit. Tyler believes his father carried this incident with him subconsciously throughout his entire life and that it inspired and motivated Caton even more.
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Prison Barn Dance
by Toby Marsh
(Epañol) Cuando el Sr. Frazee me preguntó si podría tocar un par de canciones en la prisión, de inmediato le dije que sí, porque yo tenía mucha curiosidad de ver el interior. Y Johnny Cash lo hizo. Mientras recibía mi propia revisión en la mañana de navidad, me pregunté si debía haberlo pensado mejor. El cateo no fue mucho peor que vivir la actual experiencia de tomar un vuelo a Estados Unidos. Entonces de nuevo, ya no me importa mucho volar.

Una vez que estuvimos dentro, todo estuvo sensacional. Yo estaba esperando que empezaran a gritarles a las chavas que iban en nuestro equipo como si fueran strippers. Pero todos los reclusos, sin excepción, se comportaron como verdaderos caballeros. El año entrante trataremos de llevar a Morgana ‘la roba-besos’.
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(English) When Mr. Frazee asked if I’d perform a couple songs at the prison I immediately said yes because I was curious to see the inside and Johnny Cash did it. Christmas Eve morning while receiving my own private pat down I wondered if I should have thought this one through a bit more. The search wound up being not much worse than what you currently experience getting on an airplane in the USA then again I don’t care much for flying anymore.

Once we were inside everything was cool. I was expecting all the ladies in our entourage to be objectified like pole dancers during the bouncer’s cigarette break but all the inmates without exception conducted themselves as complete gentlemen. Next year we’ll try and bring Morgana the Kissing Bandit.
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Disappointment? Top this!
By Stucco Steve
At times we all get disappointed. Heck, read the paper or watch television news programs lead by “anchormen” or “anchorwomen” and you will find 1,000 reasons to be disappointed. On a more personal level let’s face it, none of our friends or family members ever live up to the level or standard we alone set for them, thus, we are all continually disappointed by those that are close to us and those so far away we never heard of them until the anchorman told us about them. I have a question for my dear, precious readers. Warning: This next section may take you to new levels of disappointment that you never contemplated before, thereby opening up a whole new, deeper pit to sink with your depression into! The question: have you ever been disappointed by yourself or your own disgusting acts or omissions? I have, and in sharing this personal embarrassment I hope not to jog up any unpleasant reminders among my fans. Please accept my apologies in advance if this indeed occurs.

Rocking the Boat Early or To Go to Togo
By Keith Keller
I was 18 years old, working as a “coolie” on the “Sea Dog”, a 48-foot Nova Scotian lobster boat, fishing out of Marblehead, Massachusetts. These boats were made of wood held together with nails. The bilge always had water in it despite the bilge pump, and the scuppers let the sea wash across the deck. This was not a bad thing as it was the swelling of the wet wood that kept the boat together. We worked about 30 lobster traps, did some tub trawl, and helped Watson Curtis haul his huge trap net. It took eight men or strong boys in two double-ended Gloucester dories and a ninth man yelling a lot to haul a trap net. It is an exciting event, especially when there are fish.


Stucco Steve is NOT a Poet
Hi! My name is Steve and I am not a poet. This might be more a disclaimer than an introduction. For instance, I’ve never been mistaken for a famous poet, or a famous anything for that matter. It’s funny, but just now I am beginning to see what has held me back all my life. I do not have the experience, training or education to qualify as being good at something. One of my old girlfriends used to ride my ass for getting fired from every job I attempted. Misplaced self-esteem would cut in and I would respond in a macho, assertive way with “No one company can contain me” or something equally nutty.