Ten years have passed since the death of Mexican singer-songwriter Juan Gabriel. EFE/PAUL BUCK
On August 28, 2016, ‘El Divo de Juárez’ left this world. Today, a decade after his unexpected passing, his music continues to be an emotional refuge for millions of people in the Spanish-speaking world.
But what none of the attendees who sang along to his songs for more than two hours of the concert could have guessed was that that colorful evening, adorned with mariachis, silk suits and projections of Mexican folklore, would be the last time they would see ‘El Divo de Juárez’ on stage.
Ten years have passed since the music world was shaken by the sad news from Santa Monica, California. There, the life of Alberto Aguilera Valadez, that boy with a difficult childhood raised in a shelter who went on to conquer the prestigious Palace of Fine Arts and sell more than 150 million records, came to an end.
The clock read 11:43 a.m. on Sunday, August 28, 2016, when his heart stopped beating, with an acute myocardial infarction certified as the cause of his death at age 66. And today, a decade after that summer Sunday, Juan Gabriel’s physical absence has only served to enhance his legend.
His earthly journey ended that day, but his musical catalog continues to accompany Spanish-speaking families through their most important moments, from weddings and baptisms to mourning and heartbreak. Juan Gabriel was not just a popular artist – he was the great sentimental chronicler of everyday life in Latin America.
From his cradle in Parácuaro to the streets of Ciudad Juárez.
Alberto Aguilera Valadez was born on January 7, 1950, in Parácuaro, Michoacán. He was the youngest of ten children born to Gabriel Aguilera Rodríguez and Victoria Valadez Rojas, a humble farming couple. Tragedy soon struck when he was still a baby.
After an accidental fire on their farmland, her father suffered a psychotic episode that led to his confinement in the La Castañeda psychiatric hospital in Mexico City, a place he would never leave. And so, without the resources to support her family, her mother decided to move to northern Mexico to seek opportunities in the border city of Ciudad Juárez, Chihuahua.
At the age of five, little Alberto’s destiny took a definitive turn when his mother enrolled him in the Social Improvement School for Minors, popularly known by the community as “El Tribunal” (The Court) of Ciudad Juárez.
That early seclusion and estrangement from his mother caused him a deep sadness that, over time, would become the raw material for his most heartfelt lyrics. But amidst that difficult reality, light also emerged.
It was at the boarding school where the little boy met Juan Contreras, a teacher in the tinsmithing workshop who sensed the boy’s great sensitivity and taught him the first chords on the guitar, helping him to transform his loneliness into music.
At the age of 13, Alberto escaped from the institution. To earn a living, he began by helping Don Juan sell wooden and tin crafts, and later, he walked the avenues of Ciudad Juárez selling burritos prepared by his mother.
However, his calling was clear, and he soon began seeking opportunities in the local nightlife scene. Under the pseudonym Adán Luna, he started singing in various establishments, eventually making his stage debut at the renowned El Noa Noa cabaret.
And this is why, when the opportunity finally came to make the definitive professional leap, he created the name that would always accompany him by combining the two fundamental figures of his childhood – “Juan”, in honor of his protector and mentor from boarding school, and “Gabriel”, to honor the memory of his absent father.
The hell of Lecumberri and the hard road to success.
Gaining industry recognition was no easy task. On the contrary, it was fraught with setbacks. Towards the end of the 1960s, a young Juan Gabriel moved to Mexico City hoping to break into the major record companies of the time, such as CBS, Musart, and Peerless, but he encountered only constant rejections.
In those difficult days, bus terminals, public banks, and train platforms became his makeshift dormitories. The situation worsened when a well-known figure of the time falsely accused him of theft.
Without a clear legal process or timely defense, he ended up locked in the dreaded “Palacio Negro de Lecumberri” (The Black Palace of Lecumberri), one of the most overcrowded and heavily guarded prisons in the Mexican capital.
He spent nearly 18 months behind bars there, until the Mexican singer and actress Enriqueta Jiménez, known artistically as “La Prieta Linda”, intervened on his behalf to secure his release due to the lack of evidence.
In fact, she herself would formally introduce him to the RCA Victor label. And so, the big moment arrived in August 1971 with the signing of his first recording contract and the release of his debut album, ‘Un alma joven’ (A Young Soul).
This album included the iconic song “No tengo dinero” (I Have No Money), a single that quickly sold over two million copies and forever changed the young man’s life, transforming him from a poor boy into a national celebrity. From then on, his rise was unstoppable.
In 1984, ‘Recuerdos II’ was released, a landmark album produced by Chuck Anderson and featuring the smash hit ‘Querida’. That album dominated the charts for over 18 months and sold over 8 million copies, becoming the best-selling album in the history of the Mexican recording industry.
The day popular music conquered the Fine Arts.
Juan Gabriel’s definitive consecration as an indisputable reference, not only in music but also in the very cultural identity of Mexico, was sealed between May 9 and 12, 1990.
During those four historic evenings, the singer-songwriter took over the Palace of Fine Arts in Mexico City. Backed by the National Symphony Orchestra and under the baton of Maestro Enrique Patrón de Rueda, he managed to perform in an artistic temple that until then seemed reserved exclusively for concert music and opera.
But it wasn’t easy. The mere confirmation of these dates sparked intense controversy in more traditional social circles. Various conservative intellectuals, opera singers, and representatives of the National Institute of Fine Arts quickly published letters of protest demanding the cancellation of the show.
However, despite attempts to stop him, the performer appeared on stage wearing a distinguished black suit embroidered with gold thread, erasing the boundaries that divided the art of the elites and the music of the people.
Amidst deafening applause, the musician took the floor to share his feelings “Tonight I am happy, and I would like to express my wish – that all popular artists have the opportunity to come here because this place was built with the people’s money.”
And in a social context marked by deep-rooted classism, machismo, and homophobia, Juan Gabriel’s stage presence (dynamic, expressive, with sequins, shiny silks, and fans) became an extremely bold gesture of implicit dissent for the time.
Although he never sought direct political activism in collectives or groups, the simple fact of showing himself with total freedom before the general public meant a discreet but profound revolution in the homes of millions of families.
In fact, that authenticity led to one of the most memorable moments in Spanish-language television. It happened in November 2002, on the set of Univision’s Primer Impacto program, when host Fernando del Rincón dared to ask the question: “Juan Gabriel, they say he’s gay, is Juan Gabriel gay?”
Far from being bothered, the composer looked at the journalist and, with a calm smile, gave a reply that would immediately go down in the annals of Hispanic popular culture: “They say you don’t ask about what’s right in front of you, son.”
Minutes earlier, when questioned about his mannerisms and gestures under the stage lights, the singer-songwriter had already made his particular aesthetic vision clear: “I have always seen that art is feminine… If you are handsome, young and divine, they will always say that you are gay.”
The legacy of a giant in numbers.
Alberto Aguilera Valadez’s significance is also reflected in the statistics, which place him among the most successful and prolific composers of all time. Over his 45-year career, he registered more than 1,800 musical works with the Mexican Society of Authors and Composers (SACM).
Thus, his lyrics have been translated into languages as varied as English, Japanese, German, Turkish, Greek, French, and Tagalog, and have been covered by more than 1,500 artists around the world. His record sales are estimated to exceed 150 million copies worldwide.
Similarly, he holds a historic record that will be difficult to match: the longest-running show at the National Auditorium in Mexico City. It happened on May 10, 2015, when he delighted a packed house by singing non-stop for 6 hours and 15 minutes.
When his sudden departure silenced the stages in 2016, the statement released at the time by his press team highlighted that the artist “has passed into eternity and has left us his legacy through Juan Gabriel, the character he created for all the music that has been sung and performed throughout the world.”
Alberto Aguilera Valadez proved that, even starting from the vulnerability of childhood and social marginalization, it was possible to build one of the most luminous lyrical works of Mexican culture.
That’s why today, a decade after his voice was silenced, Juan Gabriel’s image remains unchanged by the passage of time. Because, as long as there are sorrows to ease or joys to celebrate, his songs will continue to accompany us.
By Nora Cifuentes. EFE / Reports.
