Studio Insider #82 October, 2004
Tony Flores
I just said goodbye to a dear old friend and musical partner who died this week
after a long battle with cancer. I decided to dedicate this month’s column to him,
both to honor his memory and to remind us all that a successful musical life can
be long, successful, and fulfilling, even if it doesn’t involve massive record sales
or nationwide recognition.
Tony Flores was a wonderful mandolin player. He was born in 1914 in a little
fishing village in Sicily, and came to the United States in the early twenties, after
his father had found work with the growing Italian fishing community in Monterey.
The family eventually moved to San Francisco, where Tony attended high school.
His brother and sister were both musicians, and Tony, who started playing violin,
soon moved to his preferred instrument, the mandolin, taught by his sister. By
the 1930’s, he was playing mandolin with the Aurora Mandolin Orchestra in San
Francisco. San Francisco was a melting pot of great music then, with the Italian
musicians, Spanish, Mexican, Mexican-American and other latin musicians
interacting constantly, playing each others’ music, and writing and co-writing a
growing repertoire for the large and small acoustic ensembles that played for
social functions. Tony’s playing blossomed, and he absorbed this great music
while perfecting a beautiful, interpretive style on the mandolin.
After marrying his sweetheart Lorrie, he raised five children, some of whom
became musicians too. I met Tony in the early 1970’s when my band hired his
son, Vince, as bass player. Our group had been auditioning bass players, but
when Vince showed up with his electric and upright basses, we knew instantly
that we wouldn’t have to look any farther. There was a special quality about
Vince, aside from his remarkable musicianship, and he instantly fit in with the rest
of us, creating a strong family vibe. “I’m Italian,” he told us, ”and the whole family
comes with me. You’ll see...” And we did. At the fist gig we played with Vince,
there was the entire Flores family in the front row, listening intently, cheering us
on wildly and appreciatively. They showed up at many of our south bay area
shows, particularly when we played a favorite spot in Los Gatos, “Mt. Charlie’s
Saloon.” Our band played original music, classical music, jazz, old time,
bluegrass, ethnic musics, and a widely eclectic mix of roots based music. The
Flores family, with a deep appreciation for artistic and ethnic music, were our
unflagging boosters. Innumerable times they would haul us all out to “breakfast” after we’d finished our last set and torn down our gear -- making sure that we
skinny kids had at least an occasional hot, full meal in our bellies as we toiled
away the months writing and arranging our show. There were gatherings at their
beautiful home, built by Tony on Loma Prieta in the Santa Cruz Mountains. We
got to meet Tony’s father (nicknamed “il quarararo,” or, “the tinker”) who had
brought the family to America so many years before. Even in his uncomfortable
old age, he’d throw down his cane and dance precariously to the old Italian
mazurkas that Tony would play on his bowl back mandolin.
As Tony Flores’ children moved on into their own lives and careers, Tony began
to play out again. In the late 70’s, I went to Santa Cruz to see a trio of Tony on
mandolin, his son Vince on bass, and Santa Cruzan Billy Packard on guitar. I
was astonished at the dignity, the respect and the artistic interpretation that
flowed from Tony’s remarkable playing. The trio was playing many of the tunes
Tony had played so many years before in San Francisco, and they were making
incredible music. People who watched and listened to Tony play were astounded
at the quality of what they were experiencing.
Eventually, Manuel Santana, who owns Jardines, a beautiful outdoor restaurant
in historic San Juan Bautista, heard Tony play and decided that this treasure had
to have a regular home. He installed Tony as his regular entertainment at
Jardines, and Tony continued to play there every weekend for almost 25 years.
In the mid 1980’s, I got a call from Tony one morning. “Joe,” he said, “I
need another guitar player. You know this music, and if you could come and
practice a little, you could play guitar for me. You’ll love this place, and especially
Manny, the owner. He loves music more than anything. And I get lots of playing
jobs from all the old Italians who I knew as kids in Monterey. They’re all wealthy
landowners now, and love to have the old music for their anniversaries, parties,
weddings, etc. What do you say?”
It took me about five seconds to say, “I’ll be right over.” So off and on for the next
ten years, I played guitar for Tony. The music was his only livelihood -- he’d had
a variety of jobs while raising his family, but none of them turned into a lifelong
career with a substantial retirement. So he gigged. And his playing was as
strong and artistic and beautiful as I ever heard.
We drove together on Saturdays and Sundays from Tony’s place in Santa
Cruz to Jardines Restaurant in San Juan Bautista. It’s still a beautiful drive
through rural Santa Cruz County, past Watsonville, Aromas and on out to San
Juan. Tony taught me to stop the truck, get out, and pick mustard greens from
the large fields we’d drive through. He showed me how to get the best ones, and
how to cook them in a frying pan with a little garlic, olive oil, and salt and pepper.
He showed me how to pick olives from the prolific trees at Jardines restaurant,
take them home, and cure them the old-fashioned Sicilian way with salt, and put
them up for storage and later treats. Sometimes we’d listen to music on my
truck’s great sound system, turning it up loud and grooving with Sabicas,
Escudero, and many other great old european masters as we drove through
golden hills on our way to play music. Those were times that I cherished then
and cherish today.
Most people were surprised to learn Tony’s age, since he looked so young and
vibrant. He went for fast-paced daily walks to the beach and back. Sometimes,
even in the dead of winter, he’d wade far out in the frigid waters of Monterey Bay
and go fishing, wearing only a bathing suit and sweat shirt. Eventually, though,
he developed prostate cancer. Tony put up a long and gallant fight against the
disease, beating it back again and again so that he could continue playing.
Earlier this year, advancing illness forced Tony to move up to Sonoma, where he
could live full-time with his daughter and her fiance, Norton Buffalo. Norton
welcomed Tony (and of course, the whole Flores family) into his home. There,
surrounded by his adoring children and wife, he finally passed away early
Sunday morning. I played him many of our favorite old tunes during his last
hours, and will always feel honored and lucky that I was swept up into this
remarkable family and musical life.
Joe Weed records acoustic music at his Highland Studio near Los Gatos,
California. He has released six albums of his own, produced many projects for
independent labels, and done sound tracks for film, TV and museums. His latest
production, for Appleseed Recordings, is “Spain in My Heart.” You can reach Joe
by calling (408)353-3353, or by email, at joe@highlandpublishing.com.