Argentina and the United States: The International Rise of Star Carmen Amaya

In 1936, two key films premiered that would mark the life of the greatest flamenco dancer in history, Carmen Amaya. The first was La hija de Juan Simón (sharing the name with the famous flamenco milonga sung by countless cantaores), in which she appeared in a supporting role, and the second was María de la O, where she played the lead role—the character that gave the film its title and inspired the zambra. Already nicknamed ‘La Capitana’, she was beginning to shine throughout the Iberian Peninsula with her singing (she had already recorded some records in those years), but especially with her dance, to the dismay of her father, El Chino. Or so it is recounted in Una historia del flamenco by José Manuel Gamboa. “She’s going to ruin herself, with what a good singer she is!” her father reportedly said to flamencologist Alfredo Mañas.

However, the same year that would change Carmen’s career also changed the course of the country where she was born. On July 17, in Melilla, a military uprising began within the Spanish Army. It spread to Ceuta, Tetouan, and the Canary Islands, and then to the Iberian Peninsula. The Spanish Civil War had begun. Carmen Amaya was in Valladolid at the time. Given the situation, she decided to advance her scheduled trip to Portugal. In Lisbon, she secured a temporary contract to perform at Café Arcadia alongside pianist Manuel García Matos. She wanted to return to Spain, but seeing that the war could last for years, she embarked for Buenos Aires. She was accompanied by part of her family, guitarist Pelao el Viejo, dancers El Fati and Faico, singer Anita Sevilla, and Manuel García Matos. “What a life this is: on land, civilians; at sea, sharks,” Carmen said in an interview just days after arriving in Argentina.

Buenos Aires theaters and the Corrientes home

They set foot in Buenos Aires on December 9, 1936. Three days later, Carmen made her debut at the Teatro Maravillas in a variety show called Las maravillas del Maravillas. Local media praised her, and the dancer’s success was such that on the second day, security forces had to intervene due to the chaos at the box office, according to Inés García-Albi in her book Carmen Amaya. They settled for four years in the Argentine capital, specifically on Corrientes Street, the theater district, and even purchased a house. Carmen’s younger siblings attended school there until they joined the company.

Many other Spanish artists arrived fleeing the war, such as ‘Los Chavalillos Sevillanos’, Rosario, and Antonio, who joined the Maravillas’ programming. Buenos Aires embraced the flamenco brought by Spanish immigrants, elevating it on its stages. “In this extraordinary 1937 season, we must consider Spanish theater as an Argentine intellectual activity,” wrote Joaquín Linares for the newspaper La Nación. Carmen continued touring throughout Latin America, and from that period comes the iconic portrait that today represents the Tablao de Carmen: the 1939 painting by the Spanish-Mexicanized artist and renowned bullfighting poster designer, Ruano Llopis.

For two years, Ramón Montoya himself, the essential Madrid-born flamenco guitarist in 20th-century flamenco history, joined Carmen’s show at the Maravillas. Another guitarist, one who would leave a lasting mark on Carmen’s professional and personal life, Sabicas, also arrived in the Argentine capital. Their artistic chemistry was instantaneous, and their brief romance lasted a few months until El Chino, Carmen’s father, refused to give his daughter’s hand to the man from Pamplona.

Conquering the capital of the world

By the end of 1940, after her stay in Buenos Aires and tours throughout South America, Carmen conquered the city already emerging as the world capital: New York. She arrived already listed on the schedule of artists managed by impresario Sol Hurok, who brought most of the flamenco performers to the United States during the 20th century, including Paco de Lucía. In January 1941, she debuted at the Beachcomber cabaret, where cultural stars such as Frank Sinatra and Greta Garbo came to see her. A year later, she conquered Carnegie Hall, a key venue for the American breakthrough of any artist, and the New York Times wrote about her spectacular performances: “A tempestuous gypsy, overflowing with vitality,” as recorded by Gamboa in his manual. She graced the cover of the iconic magazine Life.

From these years comes the most famous anecdote about Carmen in North America, though its truth has never been confirmed: she and her family (whom she always brought with her) were reportedly kicked out of the Waldorf Astoria for frying sardines. She later performed at the White House three times before President Roosevelt, who is said to have cried when the bailaora finished her alegrías.

In the United States, she made one of her greatest contributions to the history of flamenco dance (aside from being the first woman to dance in trousers). She was the first to dance the taranto, a sober palo originating from the miners of Murcia, Jaén, and Almería. According to Inés García-Albi in her biography, Carmen developed it in South America based on a gypsy rondeña performed by guitarist Miguel Borrull, with whom she had trained as a child in Barcelona’s venues. She danced the taranto at her Carnegie Hall debut, accompanied by Sabicas and maestro Palomo. In addition to this piece, other popular performances in the U.S. included Embrujo del fandango (music by Palomo), the folk song ¡Ay que tú!, and El amor brujo by Isaac Albéniz, highly popular at the time.

Return to Spain: the fear of “the ten bucks”

Besides her tours in the United States and South America, she frequently flew to Buenos Aires. There, near Montevideo, Carmen learned of her father’s death. It was a huge blow for her, and she spent two months in mourning. After this pause, they sold the house on Corrientes Street, and Carmen resumed touring. She began to recover and, like many Spaniards, contemplated returning home. In an interview reproduced in García-Albi’s book, Carmen expressed her doubts about returning:

• Out of fear of Franco?
•  No, a lone gypsy can handle Franco. I’m afraid of the turkeys.
•  The turkeys?
• Ten turkeys is all a dancer earns in Spain.

The conversation took place during an interview for the newspaper Negrín. Despite her fears, eleven years later, in 1947, already a major professional in the entertainment world and accustomed to American show styles, Carmen returned to Spain.