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Homeland insecurity
Ibrahim Ferrer, Cubanismo, and others get locked out of the US
BY TED DROZDOWSKI


Ibrahim Ferrer is a beloved figure on the international music scene. When he emerged as part of the Buena Vista Social Club in 1997, his elegant voice led journalists to call him "the Sinatra of Cuban music." If his singing wasn’t enough to win the hearts of those who saw the Wim Wenders film named for the group or heard its soundtrack album, his grandfatherly charm did the rest.

Ferrer’s career began in 1941 and ended, at least initially, with the last gasps of Havana’s elegant nightclub culture in the early ’70s. When American guitarist Ry Cooder rediscovered him, Ferrer was living on a small state pension that he supplemented by shining shoes. "An angel came and picked me up and said, ‘Chico, come and do this record,’ " is how Ferrer described his unexpected comeback. And in 2000 — after successful tours of the US with the Social Club and on his own — he was named Best New Artist at the first annual Latin Grammy Awards for his debut solo album.

This February, the 77-year-old was prevented from attending the Grammy Awards by the United States government. The reason: the ever-tightening restrictions on visas for foreign artists that have been imposed under the auspices of the Department of Homeland Security, which was created in response to September 11. The notion that Ferrer could fit anybody’s profile of a terrorist is ludicrous, but all he lost was an opportunity to bask in the respect and admiration he’s earned. Other denials under the new restrictions have been more costly. Flamenco guitarist Paco De Lucía had to drop and reschedule dates from the opening portion of his recent US tour when his bassist, who was born in Cuba but is a citizen of Spain, was not permitted to enter the country. Several promoters I talked to estimate the tour lost $150,000 in expected revenue as a result.

De Lucía was able to play his February 14 Orpheum date for Cambridge-based promoter World Music, but other artists — and Boston-area promoters — haven’t had the same luck. Cubanismo, a group led by the critically heralded trumpet player Jesús Alemañy who revisit the horn-led big-band sound of Cuban music of the ’50s, were refused visas for a scheduled US tour that was to include a date at Scullers in Boston on April 14. Although artists from many other countries have also been shut out and are now routinely subject to months-long waits for visa clearances unless they pay a $1000 special-processing fee, the door for Cuban performers, in particular, has been slammed shut. This policy follows a few years in which both nations loosened travel restrictions in the interest of cultural diplomacy. In December 2000, former president Bill Clinton succinctly described the motives for such exchange: "You send your artists to us; we send our musicians to you; and everybody feels better."

When it became apparent to the press that Ferrer and other Cuban performers would not be able to attend the Grammys, Louis Nigro of the United States Special Interests Section in Havana issued a statement on February 6 that read, "We have returned to the policy in effect before March 1999, because the Castro regime has taken advantage of the exemption to enrich the government, not to enrich people-to-people exchanges." But as any American who saw Ferrer or the Social Club perform in this country can attest, very real people-to-people exchanges took place at all of those concerts.

Equally specious is Treasury Secretary John W. Snow’s assertion that "we’re cutting off American dollars headed to Fidel Castro, period," which he made before an audience of disgruntled Cuban-Americans in Miami on February 9 according to a New York Times report. If there’s any truth in Snow’s statement — and there may be some, because income limits are placed on Cubans by their Communist leadership — it’s been twisted by the US government’s new Cold War mentality. The reality is that the cancellation of US tours like Cubanismo’s and that of Havana Sax, who have been scrubbed from Scullers’ July schedule because of visa denials, and the Pakistani Sufi singing group Farid Ayaz Qawwai earlier this year has a huge impact on earnings for domestic concert promoters and venues, to say nothing of the value of the cultural education such groups provide concertgoers.

Fred Taylor, the Boston-based promoter who books Scullers and has been presenting acts from Cuba and other nations in the region for decades, has a better perspective on the situation than the Bush administration. "Let’s follow the trail. These artists are booked through US agencies. Let’s say a contract’s for $3500. You send 50 percent of that money to the agent, who earns a percentage. Then the band arrives and the balance is paid to them directly. After the date is performed, the agent releases the money that was sent to him or her and sends it right to the band. How does that end up in Castro’s pocket? In the case of Cubanismo, we found out so close to the date that it was impossible to fill it, which means Scullers is dark for the night." And that means money taken from the pockets of not only Taylor and the club but also the waitstaff and other employees who serve Scullers patrons.

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Issue Date: April 23 - 29, 2004
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