Remembering the Corso

Remembering The Corso
Latin Beat Magazine, Sept, 2000 by Max Salazar

Courtesy of Latin beat Magazine

On May 1, 1966, the mecca of New York City's mambo dancers, the Palladium Ballroom, closed its doors for the last time. The new "in place" became The Chez José, located at the Hotel Park Plaza, 50 West 77th Street between 8th and Columbus Avenue.

The black double door entrance at street level had a stairway which led down to the posh club. It opened for business on a Friday evening in mid-1965 with the Larry Harlow orchestra. Even though there was no advertising, the club attracted a huge following. There was no marquee with the names of the featured bands. Dancers never knew who was going to perform until they entered the ballroom.

Between 1965 and 1970, New York's elite salsa, charanga and boogaloo orchestras performed their swinging music, attracting elegantly dressed beautiful people who danced till the wee hours of the morning.

In 1970, when the Chez closed, the new "in place" became the Corso Ballroom, located at 205 East 86th Street, off the corner of 3rd Avenue. The night club, which opened for business in 1927, was always a restaurant until after World War II and catered to the predominately German speaking residents who lived in the immediate area. Up until May, 1968, when Tony Raimone became the proprietor, the Corso featured "Continental Music," (music of Europe). Raimone was a frequent customer at the Corso for fourteen years before he decided to buy the restaurant. He opened for business in May, 1968 and featured the Glenn Miller Orchestra led by Buddy DeFranco and was followed by Lionel Hampton's band with poor results.

One evening, Pete Bonet, a vocalist born in Santurce, Puerto Rico, persuaded the owner to let him promote a Latin music night. Bonet, who at the time had a hot selling record called Soul Drummer with Ray Barretto's orchestra, hired the Barretto band and filled every square inch of the club. Bonet and brother Julio booked the bands and filled the club every Wednesday through Sunday evenings with popular bands such as Tito Puente, Machito, Orquesta Broadway, Eddie Palmieri, Johnny Pacheco, Típica Novel, José Fajardo and La Sonora Matancera.

The Wednesday night crowd was treated to special shows where the dancing skills of Cuban Pete, Mike Vásquez, Freddie Rios, Carlos Arroyo and Mike Ramos, among other widely-known dancers, thrilled the spectators with the latest dance crazes and steps.

On August 2, 1968, the 12-man Pete Bonet Orchestra under the musical directorship of Louie Ramírez, made its club debut and overwhelmed the dancers with original Ramírez compositions and arrangements which reminded me of the Tito Puente sound (listen to the albums The Odds are On Pete Bonet (Swinger, 1968) and Pete and Louie, The Beautiful People (Fania, 1969).

The Bonet brothers were on a roll so they went Latin on Monday nights, drawing aficionados away from Latin jazz shows at the Village Gate. Contributing to the popularity of the Corso was one of the ads in the then newly founded Latin New York Magazine:

THE CORSO THE HOME OF THE TYPICAL SOUND

"Ever feel blue...lonely, and don't know what to do? Want to meet a beautiful doll and dance to music that will arouse the both of you? If your answer is yes, visit the Corso any Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday or Sunday evenings. No matter what your problem is, once you pass through the portals to the entrance of the Corso, the typical music will infect you and enable you to escape from your problems for a few hours. There is never a typical evening at the Home of the Typical Sound. There are the orchestras of Tito Puente, Orquesta Broadway, Eddie Palmieri, Louie Ramírez, Ray Barretto, Johnny Pacheco, Larry Harlow, Willie Colón, Machito and many more, whose music is played in their unique typical arrangements intended to infect you with the good feeling of joy. Something different is always happening. Someone is always getting infected. One of the most infectious nights at the Corso occurred on August 2, 1969, when Larry Harlow's orchestra thrilled the wall-to-wall dancers with an arousing rendition of the tune Jovenes Del Muelle. The dancers were in a state of euphoria. Lew Kahn was riffing on trombone... bassist Lydio Fuentes contributed to the mania, vocalist Ismael Miranda emitted arousing ad-libs while a chorus sang Amaila Llegó a las Nubes.

"The capacity crowd on Mother's Day, May 13, 1973, was infected by the typical music of Orquesta Broadway, Ray Barretto, and Johnny Pacheco. Eddy Zervigón, flutist and director of Orquesta Broadway, thrilled the dancers with an arousing sounding Pa Africa from their most recent recording. Try to imagine his rapidly moving fingers on a black wooden flute blowing a minor chord in a low register and then rising above three octaves every other note. Try to picture sweat beads dripping from the nose of Ray Barretto while he sings coro and his hands thump the skins of his drums and his band is infecting the dancers with their latest swinging arrangement of La Familia. Can you see Johnny Pacheco suffering with a head cold, unable to sing and asking a sensuous 5' 5" shapely Latin doe-eyed doll singing coro in his place because his sore throat did not permit him to reach the high notes? No...don't try to imagine it...see and hear it at the Home of the Typical Sound. Drop by the Corso. . .and get infected." --Max Salazar

In January, 1974, Orquesta Broadway was among New York City's most popular orchestras. The band's recordings were best sellers, they attracted a huge following of dancers and were working more than any other orchestra in the Latin music world. Latin New York was saddened during the summer of 1974 when it learned Orquesta Broadway was leaving New York for Miami.

At 1:15 Thursday morning, August 15, 1974, Broadway ended its last set in New York City. Twenty minutes earlier, a silent crowd attentively listened to master of ceremonies Marty Arrett read over the bandstand's microphone a moving tribute inscribed on a plaque which was handed to Eddy Zervigón. Then the sea of dancers foot-stomped, whistled, and applauded vigorously during a two-minute standing ovation and refused to allow the band to leave the bandstand without an encore. The band swung to Me Voy Pa' Moron.

Behind the four rows of people staring up at the bandstand, dancers swayed and spun like tops. After the encore, the heavily breathing dancers bade this red hot charanga farewell. To the melody of Goodnight Ladies, the majority sang, "Goodbye Broadway...Goodbye Broadway... Goodbye Broadway... We hate to see you go." With glossy eyes and a toothy grin, Zervigón stepped up to the microphone and said in his bass tone voice, "Thank you...We love you! Excooose the axcent."

Five musicians were going to Miami. The remaining five formed LA TIPICA IDEAL, which was directed by pianist/composer/arranger Gil Suarez. Before the year was out, Orquesta Broadway was back in New York. In Miami they were greeted by second generation Cubans who were into the North American sounds of disco, hustle and rock and roll.

EDDIE PALMIERI, AN ELECTRIFYING HIT AT THE CORSO was my article which appeared in the August, 1973 Latin New York Magazine issue.

"On Sunday, July 22, 1973, a maximum capacity crowd turned out to hear the new electrified violin sound of Eddie Palmieri at the Corso Club. The huge turnout for Palmieri's appearance was like that of the people who lined up along 5th Avenue to greet the Grand Marshal of the Puerto Rican Day Parade. They stood tire deep in a semicircle around the front of the bandstand and looked up at the pianist; others filled every square inch of the dimly lit club, looked toward the bandstand and the dancers occupying the overcrowded dance floor. With arms extended outward and his nimble fingers trickling out the montuno to Pa' Huele, the goateed Palmieri, head tilted upwards, eyes closed, and wearing a look of sensual satisfaction, appeared to have been anesthetized by his own music. The new Pa' Huele was highlighted by the stirring amplified violin artistry of Alfredo De La Fe, whose head, shoulders and right arm jerked and quivered spasmodically while his bow passed over the strings. De La Fe, a young handsome Cuban musician, performed with José Fajardo's charanga in Miami before joining Palmieri in May. Following De La Fe's mesmerizing three-minute solo was the arousing flute of Mario Rivera and an inspired, unheard of solo from the adroit fingers of bassist Andy González, which made this tune better than the recording. Pa' Huele was so incredibly good that every tune played after it could not raise the same fever pitch. On this night I discovered Alfredo De La Fe, a superstar on the rise, and Andy González, whose star was also on the rise and who would share the spotlight with the renowned bassists Cachao and Bobby Rodríguez."

There were many unforgettable nights at the Corso, but the one I enjoyed most was when Vicentico Valdés and Tito Puente reunited after their split twenty-one years earlier. In 1954, a misunderstanding between the two musicians resulted in Valdés leaving the Puente orchestra. Valdés formed his own orchestra and was an immediate success. For years, Latin New York hoped the two musicians would talk and bury the past.

On April 18, 1975, the historic reunion of Tito Puente and Vicentico Valdés took place at the Corso Ballroom and provided another page for the tome of New York's uptempo music history. At 1 a.m., shortly after Johnny Pacheco's conjunto finished swinging a fiery guaracha, the dimly lit dance floor was lit up with white ceiling lights, as dancers hurried off the dance floor to find a spot to view the floor show. According to Machito and Miguelito Valdés, the Tito Puente of the mid '70s was a mature person who had expressed a desire to be on the same bill with Tito Rodríguez and Vicentico Valdés. The anticipation of what was going to take place was the piston pumping my rapidly flowing adrenaline. I was told that Tito Puente and Vicentico embraced each other like brothers and from the smiles on both of their faces, the past was just a memory. Marty Arrett, the Corso's Master of Ceremonies, began this historic moment with welcoming Puente back to the Corso after a two-and-a-half year absence.

The white-haired Puente, dressed nattily in a blue suit, white shirt and red tie, bowed to the applauding crowd, signaling drummer Mike Collazo whose drum roll accompanied Arrett's words, "Ladies and gentlemen...The King, Tito Puente, and Vicentico Valdés." A thunderous applause and standing ovation followed. Valdés, attired in a cream colored Safari jacket, sport shirt and slacks, broke away from a cluster of women, smiled and walked calmly towards Arrett, shook hands, accepted a microphone, nodded to Puente and began to sing the ballad Corazon No Llores. Three more ballads followed and each elicited enthusiastic applause. When the familiar melody introduction to the ballad La Gloria Eres Tu began, the din of applause and whistles drowned out Vicentico. Within seconds I was mentally transported to the year 1952. I imagined Puente's mellow vibraphone accompanied with visions of cheek-to-cheek dancers crowding the Palladium Ballroom's dance floor. When the band began swinging on Babarabatiri and followed with Abaniquito, the patrons behaved madly. This and many more historic moments in up tempo Latin music history occurred at The Corso, The Home of the Typical Latin Sound between 1969 and 1985.