I have been thinking a lot about my dad today.  I guess it makes sense since it is Father’s Day. 

I consider myself a very fortunate man.  I got to know my father and I got to know him well.  I learned a lot from him.  When he was ill towards the end of his life, I was able to help take care of him.  I have always been proud of that.

I worked with dad at several jobs during my sophomore, junior and senior years in high school.  We first worked at the Raleigh Hotel in Miami Beach.  I was the elevator operator at the hotel.  The elevators were not automatic; someone had to drive them.  I was also a bellhop.  The shift was from midnight to 8am.  I, or Carlos or Arturo would work on Friday and Saturday nights.  At that time, Robert was already in Gainesville.  Dad would work the rest of the week.  We would do this since that way dad could make more money at Montmartre Hotel as a barboy. 

The job was okay.  The reason they needed the elevator operator was because it was a kosher hotel.  On the Sabbath, Jewish persons could not operate machinery.  The pay was small ($10/day) but basically, they also provided you a sofa where you could sleep usually from 2-6am.  You would see strange things sometimes in the evening.  Respected citizens taking different ladies up to their room.  I was surprised how often that happened.   At this job, dad and I did not really work together.  If I was working there, he was working at his other job at the Montmartre between the Eden Roc and the Doral Hotels. 

Starting in 10^th grade I began working as a barboy with dad at the Montmartre Hotel.  This is where I really got to know him.  Since we are so many siblings, it is difficult to spend alone time with your dad.  He has to be dad to all of us at the same time.

Dad’s job was to set up the bar and the nightclub prior to the show in the evening.  Afterwards, during the show, he is the man that operates the spotlight.  It was one of those old-fashioned spotlights that as the singer moves around the stage, the spotlight would keep shining on the performer.  The show was Lou Marsh and Tony Adams, the "These Jokers are Wild".  He introduced me to Ivan, the bartender and Hal the Piano man.  They are both very nice individuals.  He also introduced me to Tony Foster who is a singer and the entertainment director and Johnny Varro and his orchestra who provide the music for most shows.  It strikes me how proud he is as he introduces me to each of them. 

The first thing I noticed was that all the plates in the bar were exactly the same type of plates that we had at home.  I say very loudly: Papi, que casualidad, tienen los mismos platos!.  (Dad, what a concidence.  The have the same plates that we have at home.).  He just told me: Callate la boca muchacho!  (Be quiet).  I then notice that all the chairs are exactly the same ones we have at home.  Again dad says; be quiet.   I did not realize that they may have been “borrowed” from the hotel at one point or another. 

Our first job is to estimate how many seats will be filled.  Depending on our estimate we would have to light a red candle at the center of each table that we expected to be filled.  He consults with Ivan the bartender and they make a decision. He carefully showed me how to hold the match the match and light the candle.  After you light it you should hold it between your index finger and your middle finger, otherwise you would get burned as you lit the candle.  To this day every time I light a candle, particularly a red one, I remember him teaching me how to do it.

Dad was worried.  The singer coming in today was one that loved to move all around the stage.  The problem is that they had replaced the light and now the light could not follow the singer around the stage as much.  Dad was afraid he could not point the light at her and she would feel embarrassed because she would all of a sudden be singing in the dark.  We continued setting up the tables and tidying up the nightclub.  Then dad spotted the singer.  I do not remember her name.  Dad, in his broken English, tells her about the light situation.  She is very grateful. Dad and I sit down in the adjacent room, the band is practicing.  Dad is telling me he really likes the way this singer sings : “Esta tarde vi llover” by Armando Manzanero.  He tells me about the song.  He tells me about Armando Manzanero.  He tells me about other famous songs by Manzanero such as “Adoro”, “Somos Novios”.  I had not heard of Manzanero before.  I was surprised at how much he knew.  It was like another side of him I had not experienced.   I knew he loved music, I just did not know how much he knew about the artists. 

I was a little sleepy, so I went to the kitchen to get American Coffee.  As I would go around his colleagues would point towards me and say “Ese es el hijo de Roberto”  (That is Roberto’s son).  I was so proud.  Everyone seemed to really like him. I got the coffee and sat down.  I told dad I really hated this type of coffee.   I was hoping for Cuban coffee.  He taught me how to make it so you could actually enjoy it.   He told me to put in two or three crystals of salt and cream and some sugar.  The salt did the trick.

The show began.  Dad turned and operated the lights.  I am sitting way in the back just taking in the show and drinking some American Coffee.  The singer begins going through her show.  She really sings well. As the show continues, she stops and says in Spanish: Esta es para ti Roberto. (Roberto, this one is for you!) My dad is kind of embarrassed.  Pongase de pie por favor!  My dad stood up and waved.  Everyone clapped.   She began singing “Esta tarde vi llover”.  I could tell dad was happy.  After the show ended I told him:  Viste eso?  And then I said: Es bien bonita.  He was very happy!  We continued working that day and later we drove home at around 2am. 

A couple of years later, me and Robert, my brother, were playing guitar in front of my house.  Robert wanted to show me several songs he had learned. When he would visit, he would often do that.  I assumed he learned these since he now had a Hispanic girlfriend. And he started playing “Adoro” by Armando Manzanero.  He started telling me about Armando Manzanero.  He started telling me about other songs.  I was surprised at how similar Robert and dad were. 

When Robert was killed, dad regretted that he had never gotten to know him well.  When his brothers or his hotel friends came to see my dad at the funeral he would just say “I never even knew him”.  I always hoped to tell dad that they were more similar than he imagined.  I never did. I wish I had.

Happy Father’s day dad.  Thank you.