Lilo Gonzalez Building bridges through music by Mitchell Tropin (Takoma Voice, June 2002)

Living by himself in Adams Morgan, Lilo Gonzalez felt terribly lonely. Everything seemed to remind him of his hometown in El Salvador, even a John Denver song. Determined not to give in to the loneliness, Gonzalez started playing the guitar.

After a while, he knew he wanted to describe his life as an undocumented immigrant with all its hardships and difficulties. So he started to write his own music. Since that day years ago, Lilo's words and music have taken him to performing stages around the hemisphere that have brought his music to millions.

But the Takoma Park singer-songwriter has not forgotten those who have followed the same lonely path from Central America. He also has not forgotten the hometown he left in 1982.

Gonzalez was born in the western part of El Salvador in Armenia, an agricultural town that overlooks a beautiful valley. One day a traveling circus came to Armenia, but the owner ran out of money and the circus closed. The owner sold everything, including band instruments, which the local school bought. Gonzalez and his classmates were soon performing with the instruments, but playing music was "never taken seriously," he says.

Gonzalez became an elementary school teacher. He married and had a son, also named Lilo. All seemed well. Leaving Armenia was the furthest thing on his mind until a deadly civil war erupted in 1980. With U.S. support, the right-wing Salvadoran military fought the guerrilla forces of the Farabundo Mart' National Liberation Front (FMLN).

"There was a lot of killing and a lot of people disappearing. Sometimes entire families would disappear," says Lilo. In Armenia, where everyone knew everyone else, the situation cast a dark pall.

Wanting to be safe, he decided to move his family to the United States. Together with his mother, wife, and 2-1/2 year old son, Gonzalez departed for the United States without a visa. It took 15 days for them to travel to Guatemala and then to Mexico. Crossing the Rio Grande into El Paso, they arrived in the United States.

Playing the guitar became a way to counter "the loneliness for my family and for my country."

Gonzalez went first to Los Angeles. But the vastness of the city overwhelmed him. "I must confess that I was scared," he says. Life was hard for an undocumented immigrant in Los Angeles. In a city so close to the Mexican border, there was plenty of competition with other newly arrived immigrants for the few poor-paying jobs.

There also was the fear of Immigration and Naturalization Service officials. "They could always tell if you were 'fresh'--if you had just arrived from Central America.

" Work was sporadic. "You could wander for months looking for a job," Gonzalez remembers.

He then received a call from an old friend from Armenia, who said Gonzalez should come to the East Coast. He moved his family to Fairfax in 1982.

Times were still hard. Despite his formerly being a schoolteacher, Gonzalez, without papers, had to accept work as a dishwasher. The times and circumstances were trying on his family. Gonzalez's wife, mother, and son moved back to Los Angeles, where they could be closer to other family members.

Living alone, Gonzalez settled into a routine of walking every day to a restaurant on Lee Highway. Each time he would pass a pawnshop, and hanging from the walls were second-hand guitars.

"I was amazed to see how cheap they were and I thought I could play," he says. Buying a used guitar, Gonzalez spent evenings teaching himself to play. Playing the guitar became a way to counter "the loneliness for my family and for my country," he says.

Lilo performs with his band at the "Taste of Takoma" in April 2002

photo: Esperanza Loaiza Bond

Gonzalez continued to hear news about the killings in El Salvador. "You would hear about this person you knew disappearing," he says. "You would hear that so-and-so or so-and-so had been killed." He also remembers feeling guilty about leaving his home.

"I had gotten away, but so many people could not leave; they did not have the means or the money," he says.

One night, Gonzalez wandered into a Columbia Road coffeehouse in Adams Morgan, where Salvadoran musicians were playing.ÊHe enjoyed the music so much that he returned often. It wasn't long before, at an open mike, Gonzalez stood up to perform. He soon started playing with other local Salvadoran musicians, forming a band called Izalco.

The band's name has a special meaning. It refers to the location of a volcano about 20 miles from Armenia which was active until the 1970s, and was also the scene for one of the largest massacres in Central American history. In 1932, landowners killed over 30,000 peasants who were protesting food shortages.

Every Saturday night at the coffeehouse, people would come to hear Gonzalez and his colleagues play. Appearing at churches, colleges, and other venues, Gonzalez saw that the band's music, mostly Salvadoran and Central American folk, was a way to tell people about what was happening in El Salvador.

In 1986, Gonzalez received good news: amnesty was declared for undocumented immigrants who had come to the United States after 1981. Gonzalez had arrived just under the deadline and received permanent resident status. His days of fearing the INS were over. More importantly, he could return to his hometown.

"If I am deported, I will take you with me in the soul of my guitar."

By 1990, Gonzalez wanted to move beyond traditional folk music and decided to write his own songs. He heard about an important Latino music competition, the OTI Awards presented by Billboard Magazine, where performers compete locally and nationally.

Sitting down with guitar, pen, and paper, Gonzalez composed a song that he submitted to local festival sponsors. The song was "Amor Sin Papeles" ("Love Without Papers"). It hit home with many new immigrants facing hard times and continued difficulties from U.S. officials, who refused to acknowledge that Salvadorans were political refugees.

"It is a love song about someone without a green card or social security," he explains. "It is simple, but the message is strong."

The song tells of an immigrant who says to his love, "If I am deported, I will take you with me in the soul of my guitar."

That song won the Washington competition. He went to the national competition in Miami, where he got to perform for the first time before an audience of over 10,000. His performance was televised across the United States, Latin America, Spain, and Portugal.

"For three minutes, people across the country could see me, and I could tell them in my song what it is like to be illegal," he says. Gonzalez was not sure how his music would be received.

"After all, [my song] wasn't like the latest Ricky Martin record," he says. But the song was a success. People from both the music industry and Latino communities told him how much they liked his music and appreciated his message.

Gonzalez entered the song competition again in 1991 and was the Washington winner with his new song, "Ningun Ser Humano es Ilegal" ("No Human Being is Illegal"). Performing at the Kennedy Center, he won second place in the national competition. Things continued to improve. His family rejoined him in Washington. The District of Columbia Commission for the Arts awarded him a $5,000 grant that allowed him to record his first album, A Quien Corresponda ("To Whom It May Concern").

Gonzalez also started getting better jobs. After working for years as a dishwasher at Sibley Hospital, he was hired by a local Latino group to coordinate a youth summer jobs program. Later he oversaw a drug prevention program.

In the early 90s, Gonzalez started to see disturbing signs in his Mt. Pleasant neighborhood, including a rise in violence among Latinos and increased drug use. In 1991, riots broke out in Mt. Pleasant after a D.C. police officer wounded a Salvadoran. The riots devastated the neighborhood but shined light on the mistreatment of Latinos living in Washington.

Gonzalez decided to speak out against what was happening in the community, deciding the best way was through his music. He formed a group, Los de la Mount Pleasant. The band performs at universities, festivals, and wherever they can present their message about the continuing problems of Latino immigrants.

He also wrote about the local violence in a song, "Las Historias Prohibidas de Pedro y Tyrone" ("The Forbidden Tale of Pedro and Tyrone"). Over the years, Gonzalez has won five awards from the Washington Area Music Association, which annually awards the WAMMIES.

Last year, WAMA honored Gonzalez with a special award for his community service, which has included working with the National Heart, Lung, and Blood Institute on a healthy heart program, "Salud Para su Corazon," for the Latino community.

Gonzalez has made several trips back to El Salvador and his hometown. "I wanted to make up for all of the years I could not visit because of my undocumented status," he says.

"I was touched by the words, 'take me back to where I belong.'"

One trip in February 2001, however, turned out to be more memorable than he would have liked. Gonzalez flew to a small town in El Salvador, where he had been invited to perform. On the morning after he arrived, a fierce earthquake struck El Salvador, knocking out electricity in most of the country and closing the airport.

Several days later there was an opportunity to leave, but he decided to stay. "I could not do a lot, but I had my guitar. So I entertained every night," Gonzalez recalls.

"It was an uncertain time, because for several days there were aftershocks that sent tremors through the towns and villages. There was constant fear for a whole week. I went from place to place, bringing together the children, and reassuring them that they would be okay."

The damage was particularly harsh in Armenia, where 15,000 families lost their homes. After returning to Washington, he organized a benefit concert and called Bill Danoff, another local singer-songwriter best known for writing "Take Me Home, Country Roads."

The song has special meaning to Gonzalez, who explained that its words reminded him of El Salvador during those first lonely years in the United States. "I was touched by the words, 'take me back to where I belong,'" he says.

After reading about Danoff, Gonzalez knew he wanted to meet him and tell him how much the song meant to him. So when Gonzalez saw him at a restaurant that featured Brazilian music, Gonzalez introduced himself. The two have become good friends and co-performers in the six years since, so when Gonzalez called and asked Danoff to perform at the earthquake benefit concert, Danoff did not hesitate.

Danoff says he loves Gonzalez's salsa version of his famous song, which adds trombones and timbales. Danoff recalls Gonzalez performing "Country Roads" in Indiana, saying "it brought the house down." Danoff performed "Country Roads" at the earthquake benefit concert. Gonzalez followed with his own version, and they closed the concert by performing the song together.

Gonzalez hopes someday to bring Danoff to El Salvador so they can perform "Country Roads" together in Armenia. Danoff says: "I'm up for that."

Kids from Rolling Terrace Elementary School learn from Lilo at a Cinco de Mayo celebration

photo: Esperanza Loaiza Bond

Now living in Takoma Park, Gonzalez continues to work with music and children. He works with the Levine School of Music and the National Children's Resource Center in Cleveland Park. He is putting together a new album that is tentatively called Vida, Amor y Memorias (Life, Love and Memories). One of the songs scheduled for the new album ponders what the children of Palestine and Israel dream about.

Gonzalez says he wanted to write a song showing that the children in the Middle East are not very different from those in El Salvador. "Palestin[ian] and Israeli children must be hurting from what they are experiencing, just as the children of El Salvador suffered during the civil war," he says.

Gonzalez continues to assist Armenia. He currently is trying to establish a small local radio station that can serve as a community center for young people in the town who have little to do.

Gonzalez's oldest son, Lilo, also is a musician, performing with a rock band and studying music at Montgomery College. Both Lilos performed together in April at Columbia Union College 's "Taste of Takoma." Gonzalez and his wife, Margarita Sol, have two other children, Larabella, and Camilo.

To find out more about the work of Lilo Gonzalez or to contribute to his Armenia radio project, write him at lilo@erols.com.

Lilo and his wife Margarita Sol

photo: Esperanza Loaiza Bond

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