Canto CCCLX: Friendship Burritos, 17 Years Apart at NAHJ

Gentle cabrones:

Summer of 2007. The Great Infernal Rag Schism is in the Vichy stage. The Barbarians from Phoenix have installed their person, but the Resistance continues.

I’m now their star syndicated columnist, but they also know I’m committed to journalism, especially diversifying the ranks. Would I like to be a recruiter for them for the annual convention of the National Association of Hispanic Journalists, which will be in San Jose?

Sure! What do I do?

Sit behind a table along with other organizations, and wait for people to approach you.

Um, sure!

I fly up there after a summer of flying around the country for my first book. Sit inside a hotel conference room for hours, talk to exactly one person. Hear somehow about a party being held at a bar in downtown San Jose. Run into Jesse Lopez of MLB.com and Jose de Jesús Ortiz, then a columnist with the Houston Chronicle. They say they’re fans, and we start drinking — did I forget to mention the mixer was sponsored by a bourbon company, and shots are on them?

For the first and only time in my life, I get kicked out of a bar. Security literally threw me down the stairs, so goddamn annoying I apparently was.

I somehow stumble back to my hotel room and throw up. I can’t make it to the toilet in time and proceed to upchuck on the floor. Miraculously, I do it all over my computer bag, which means not a drop fell on the carpet.

BARF.

I wash off the vomit from my bag, but it’s destroyed. I try to sleep off my cruda, but it’s not going to happen. I stumble to a morning workshop on improving your writing led by L.A. Times features editor Steve Padilla, who I had previously met and who had edited the Columna One by Daniel Hernandez that changed my life forever.

Padilla began his lecture by referencing the cowboy ballad “The Streets of Laredo,” hitting all the notes of the opening stanza with his wonderful tenor. After a few minutes, though, I rush out and go back to my room. I made the mistake of drinking orange juice beforehand.

BARF…this time in the toilet.

I crawl to bed and try to sweat everything out over the next five hours. I wake up in a stupor, and with a reminder:

I gotta meet up for burritos with Serena Maria Daniels.

Young reporter at the Orange County Register. Wants to talk journalism with me. I’m not sure how I will myself out of bed, but we end up meeting at La Victoria, the legendary burrito house in San Jose based in a Victorian home. We have a great conversation, great burritos — and I return to life at a convention I otherwise have no other recollection of.

Summer of 2024 – yesterday. National Association of Hispanic Journalists convention, now at the Loews Hollywood Hotel. Now, I’m supposed to appear on a panel at the very end of the day, and my boss is on another panel, so I might as well sit at the recruiting table as well. Steve Padilla is getting inducted into the NAHJ Hall of Fame. Me and Serena?

We go get burritos.

First time reading this newsletter? Subscribe here for more merriment! Feedback, thoughts, commentary, rants? Send them to [email protected]

The years were great to Serena. She eventually left the Register (who stupidly let a generation of young, talented PoC reporters leave) to the Chicago Tribune, then the Detroit News. She eventually started her own publication, Tostada Magazine and is now the editor for Eater Detroit and also works for the national site.

She was on Motor City time, so Serena was more than happy to meet me at La Azteca Tortillería in Eastlos so we could eat chile rellenos burritos at the panel where my jefe Hector Becerra was going to speak at — Latinos and the 2024 election. We break off after, and onto our day we went.

I went to the L.A. Times recruiting booth, which is approached by a bunch of young people. Also in the booth with me are Los Angeles Times reporting fellows Angie Orellana Hernandez and Anthony De Leon, both talented and energetic. I offer my spiel to some of the young recruits, but my days are over: Angie and Anthony did a great job selling the Times and journalism to people just a few years younger than them. All I was good for was to remind people I’ve lived my entire journalism career hearing that the industry is doomed — so what are you going to do about it?

The years have been great to me. The Barbarians from Phoenix incredibly mostly left us alone (while sacking the rest of what was Village Voice Media), and eventually made me editor of the Infernal Rag even as I pursued a million other things, because they knew my commitment to my job was paramount. I eventually was pushed out, went through the Remierda Incident, and landed just fine at the By-God L.A. Times, where my jefes let me pursue a thousand other things, because they know my commitment to my job is paramount.

At NAHJ 2024, I ended up connecting with friends, met fans, and participated in a panel about book bans alongside the legends Luis Rodriguez and Ray Suarez, ABC News reporter Kiara Alfonseca, and Julissa Arce. Some of the boldfaced names I talked to: Jennifer Medina of the New York Times, Destiny Torres of the Orange County Register, Stephanie Mendez of ABC News, David Beard of National Geographic, Adriana Chavira, the journalism advisor at Daniel Pearl High School, Voice of OC publisher Norberto Santana, Jr. and others, I’m sure.

Afterward, I connected with my Bakersfield compa, Matt Muñoz, longtime writer for the Bakersfield Californian and now with the Cesar Chavez Foundation. We went to a crowded, boisterous reception off Hollywood Boulevard hosted by De Los, the L.A. Times Latino initiative. On the way, we passed by the legendary Musso and Frank’s, and how could we give up a chance to have drinks there?

We met Serena at the mixer and eventually retired to Musso and Frank. Joining us eventually was Melissa Montalvo, my former student at Orange Coast College and currently an ace accountability (and still just getting started) reporter at the Fresno Bee. We each ordered one cocktail — I went with a Boulevardier, although I forgot to ask for a sidecar — and toasted to journalism.

Earlier in the week, my honey and I hung out with two dear friends of ours at Casa Delstavo, enjoying the recuperative waters of Puppy Strong Hot Springs. And as we were leaving, my comadre remarked that we had known each other for 22 years.

I kind of got the hint in her voice that she was the tiniest bit melancholic about the passage of the time and how we were older. So I made sure to correct the sentiment with honesty: If we’ve known each other that long and are still able to hang out for a good amount of time, that means we’ve lived great lives.

She got her big smile and agreed.

I’m really not a sentimental person, and y’all know how much I hate nostalgia — but it’s true. Seeing Serena, and realizing that we were repeating exactly what we had done so long ago, was a necessary time-out for me to remember we have lived good lives. Not always easy. Maybe not how we intended them. But damn good lives.

And even better, we were still part of each other’s lives – and hopefully, will continue to find the good for many more years to come.

Melissa, Serena, and Matt hit it off with each other, and we went off to our nights. I told everyone about the burritos Serena and I had shared in San Jose so long ago, and Serena remarked that she remembered how humbled and vulnerable I was when we had met, which she hadn’t expected. She also said I had remarked how out-of-place I felt at the NAHJ San Jose convention since I didn’t know anyone else there — this was back in the days when alt-weekly reporters were the lepers of journalism.

I remembered how gracious Serena was, and how damn unprofessional I was to get so damn drunk before meeting a contemporary for the first time — but I obviously rallied, because here we all were.

We bid goodbye back at the Loews. Serena went to some fancy journalist party; Melissa went to go hug a nephew. Matt and I went to Thai Town and did the calculations on our own friendship — at least a decade of knowing each other online, and nine years since he had hosted a screening of the late, great Bordertown in Bako (#renewbordertown). He tried to pay for our Thai food, but that wasn’t gonna happen – Matt’s going to get me the next time I’m in Bakersfield, which hopefully will be before Octobe. 

Life is never gonna work out how you wanted it to, just like John Lennon wistfully remarked in “Beautiful Boy.” So what are you going to do about it? LIke Junior Walker once sang, you gotta live the life you love, and you gotta love the life you live.

Congrats, Padilla!

**

Enough rambling. This was the semana that was:

IMAGE OF THE WEEK: PERFECT aguachile at Acamaya, a Mexican seafood restaurant run by Chef Ana Castro and her sister, Lydia, in New Orleans. It’s one of the most important Mexican restaurants to open in the U.S. this year — columna to come…

QUOTE OF THE WEEK: “When tillage begins, other arts follow” — Daniel Webster

LISTENING: “They Can’t Take That Away from Me,” Fred Astaire. My Thursday night was at the Hollywood Bowl with L.A. Times colleagues and jefes (we missed you, Faith) to see a night of George Gerswhin with the L.A. Philharmonic. Great performance, although they should’ve ended with “Rhapsody in Blue” instead of the lighter “An American in Paris.” Great singing and dancing, and of course this gorgeous song was sung — performed better by many others, but gotta give a shoutout to Fred Astaire, you know? But why didn’t they sing “Summertime” — has that song been effectively canceled?

READING: “Beer, Wine, and Apricot Brandy: The Blue-Collar Booze of ‘Jaws’”: There are new angles to a well-trodden story, and then there’s this one. A few lines and shots in the original blockbuster transformed into a funny, yet insightful story. It wasn’t that it was a slow news day when this one was published; it was that the author’s third eye opened to the possibilities of LYFE.

BUY MY NEW CO-BOOK! People’s Guide to Orange County tells an alternative history of OC through the scholarship and reporting of myself, Elaine Lewinnek, and Thuy Vo Dang. There’ll be signings all year — in meanwhile, buy your copy TODAY. And, yes: I’ll autograph it!

Gustavo Events  

July 20, 9 a.m.: Me and my co-authors of A People’s Guide to Orange County will be doing our first-ever tour of Anacrime! It’s $20, so buy your tickets here — not giving out an address for our starting point because I don’t want Curt Pringle to crash it hahahaha

July 27, 4 p.m.: I’ll be in conversation with author Alex Espinoza about his brilliant new novel, The Sons of El Rey, at Libromobile, 1180 S. Bristol St., SanTana. Lecture, FREE; books, BARATO.

Sept. 21, 1:30 p.m.: I’ll be in conversation with Mike Madrid, longtime GOP strategist turned Trump mega-hater and author of the new book The Latino Century: How America's Largest Minority Is Transforming Democracy at Alta Baja Market, 201 E. 4th St., Ste. 101, SanTana. Lecture, FREE but register here.

Gustavo in the News

“School launches podcast Aug. 1”: UCI’s School of Social Ecology announces a podcast Mike’s hosting for them about the changing politics of Orange County, of which I’ll pop in and out of.

“KCRW Good Food”: Forgot to share this plug from a while back.

“How a hoarder has upended a neighborhood and why almost nothing can stop it”: An L.A. Times newsletter you should subscribe to plugs a columna of mine.

“With Biden faltering, can Trump finally win Orange County?”: Another L.A. Times newsletter you should subscribe to plugs a columna of mine.

“Always Running: Luis J. Rodríguez’s memoir of gang days in LA is as relevant today as it was 30 years ago”: Speaking of Luis, two academics don’t seem to care that I said his masterpiece was a “manual for L.A.’s salvation.”

“Letters to the Editor: A California Cult Classic”: Readers of Alta Journal respond to a recent co-columna of mine.

Gustavo Stories 

“Grítale a Guti”: Latest edition of my Tuesday night IG Live free-for-all.

“OC CEO retires, search for successor drags on”: My latest KCRW “Orange County Line” commentary talks about the departure of Frank Kim.

“Reparations for Chavez Ravine families? Not so fast, say some descendants”: My latest L.A. Times columna talks about the fight over what, if anything, to do for the families who lost their homes and neighborhoods on the land that became Dodger Stadium. KEY QUOTE: “He went on to offer an alternative narrative I had never considered — one where Chavez Ravine families took the money the city gave them, bought homes elsewhere and went on with their lives.”

You made it this far down? Gracias! Follow me on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram while you’re down here by clicking on their logos down below. Don’t forget to forward this newsletter to your compadres y comadres! You can’t get me tacos anymore, but you sure as hell can give them — and more — to the O.C. Catholic Worker!