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Rosetta Stone
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Dan Kennedy
Welcome to the Moth Podcast. I'm Dan Kennedy. Hey, we've got some really exciting news. Story slams are going to start next month in Seattle, Portland, Oregon, Milwaukee, and also Boston. Hit the site themoth.org for dates and for venue locations and hope to see you at a show. The story you're about to hear by A.E. hotchner was told live at the Moth this year. The theme of the night was stories of safe passage.
A.E. Hotchner
I'm going to take you back to space Spain in The summer of 1959, when the big event was a mano a mano bullfight between the two great matadors of that epoch, Jean Louis Dominguin and Antonio Odonez. There hadn't been such a bullfight a mano a mano in 30 years, and there hasn't been one since then. So it was a great event. And my longtime friend Ernest Hemingway called me and he said, I'm going to go there and cover it for Life magazine. I'm going to write about it. Why don't you come on down and we'll have another adventure. I had met Ernest when I edited his novel across the river and into the Trees, and afterwards I had adapted many of his short stories and novels for television and for the movies, and we'd had some great adventures together, fishing for marlin and hunting birds in Idaho and a lot of other things. So I got to Valencia, where the first manawamana was held and they were marvelous, both bullfighters. And the second Manawamano was in Malaga, where they were even better. And afterwards we all adjourned to the Miramar terrace, where we had a great deal of red wine and tapas and had a good time. And during the course of it, Antonio, who was Ernest's favorite bullfighter of all time, said, you know something, Pekis? I think you should be in the ring. What do you think, Ernest? He called me Pekis. That was his nickname. Pekis means the freckled one, which I was at that time. Ernest said, that's fine, Hotchkiss. You should be ready to get in the ring, be a matador, and I'll be your manager. And we now drink a lot of red wine and. And we're having a great time. And I'm extrapolating over where I'll fight. And I know that that's just red wine talking and not anything that's going to happen. And before we leave, Antonio says, tell you what, the next mano mano is in Ciudad Real. You can be the sobra saliente, and I'll put you in one of my suits. I didn't think anything more of this. When we got to Ciudad Real to see the Manawa Manama, we went up to the hotel room where Antonio was to wish him suerte good luck. There was on the bed a bullfight suit, and it was Antonio's. And he came over and he said, I thought you'd like the colors. They're ivory and black with a touch of red. He said, I think it goes with your complexion. I said, my complexion right now is white and getting whiter. So they proceeded to dress me. Now, I want to tell you, a bullfighter's costume is no laughing matter. The undergarment is pulled on you, and it's like new skin. Then they give you your jahe dalut, which is your outer garments. They weigh approximately, like an anvil being put on your back. So I was dressed up in my suit. There was no way really to move in any direction. I was mummified. You have to be suited like this, because if you go in the ring and there's a breeze, a little wind, and you're wearing anything that moves, the bull is going to go for you instead of the cloth that you're waving out here. So therefore, I now am put together, and I thought, you know, this is one of those bibulous jokes. They've got me dressed up, and then, ha, ha, they go to the ring and they leave me here. In the room in this ridiculous costume. I'm not going to be in a bullring. As the hour approaches for the fight, everybody leaves except Antonio and me. We're alone in the room. And Antonio goes over to a table where he has some religious objects. And he starts to pray over them. I'm in my corner over there, wishing the hell I had something to pray over. The door opens, it's for real. I am down now in the van, and we're on our way to the bullfight. And I'm sitting next to my manager, Mr. Senior Ernest Hemingway. And he said to me, you know, this is my first time as a monitor manager, and I'm rather nervous. He said, I'm rather nervous. How about you? And at that moment, the van is going by the bullring. And outside the entrance of the bullring is a poster bigger than this room. And at the top it says Mattawomano. And it's Domin versus Zordonez. And underneath, Sova seiente El Pecos. Now, I want to tell you what a silver saiente is. It's a substitute sword. And this matador, who's the third matador, only goes in the ring if the other two have been blasted off the face of the sand, either by a goring or whatever. Obviously a joke. We go under the stands. Now we're prepared for the paseo you've all seen in the movies. The paseo where everybody goes across the sand, the horses and the matadors and everybody else. I'm standing there with these two great matadors. They have fixed my ceremonial cape, so it's exactly right. And Antonio says to me, listen, be careful about when we walk the paseo over to the judges stand where the presidente is. Follow me. Exactly. Because Litri was a bullfighter, took young Count Teba in as a sobra saiente, as a joke. But Teba was a little bit wobbly, and the warden spotted him. They arrested him, and he spent a week in jail. And I thought, now's the time to run. But off we went. The horses first, then the two matadors, then El Pecos, and then the rest of it. Walking from there over to the president's box was four miles. I did everything I could to be just like Antonio, and I guess I pulled it off. I didn't wind up in jail. We doffed our hats to the president. I went into the callajon, which is the little alley between the wooden barrera and the first row of seats. My manager is standing there. He says, you know, there's something I forgot to tell you, by the way, I'll tell you one thing he told me in that wagon that I glossed over. But you should know, I said to him, when I get to the ring, I'm not conversing with what a matador does. Whoa, whoa. Give me some advice from my manager. He says, you only have to do three things. Number one, look tragic. He said, the bullfight is a very serious business, so you should look like you're serious. I said, have you looked at me? He says, number two, when you get to the ring, people are watching you. Don't lean on anything, it's ugly for the suit. And number three, if the photographers come toward you, put your right foot forward, it's sexier. So there's my manager who now says to me, there's something I forgot to tell you. There's a fourth thing, and that is that you have to show yourself to this crowd. The sober Saiyanti always must make his presence known. Whatever blood was left unfrozen froze. At this point, Dominghane had already had the first bull. Ardent gets the second bull. He does a couple of cape, works with him, and then he fixes him, fixes the bull and stands still there, walks over to the barrera, motions to me, I come out, I doff my hat to the crowd, I'm ready to leave. My cape is over my arm. The fixed bull decides not to be fixed. And if you can imagine yourself on a railroad track and there's a locomotive coming right at you, that was that bull. Ardenius said to me, pecus, don't move, don't move. I was frozen stiff as the bull approached us and got within striking distance. Ardenia, who was to my right, swiped his cape, pulled him away and did a faena. And the sova Saiente, whose cape had slipped down, he pulled it up. I guess the crowd thought I was making a pass. At any rate, I stiff legged out of there, and that was my only experience in the ring. Antonio was terrific with the last bull, his third bull. It was a faena like nobody had ever seen. The crowd went crazy. They waved their handkerchiefs, white handkerchiefs to influence the judges, and the judges gave him the penultimate. Both the ears of the bull, the tail and a hoof. And they also demanded a tour. So now we do a tour of the ring, and he comes out and brings me with him. So El Pekis, the silver Saliente, is now going to make a triumphal tour of the ring with this great matador, the aficionados in Spain are very appreciative of a great performance. And they throw all manner of things to the fans. And cigars and bottles full of wine and tiaras, mantillas, shoes, hats, whatever. So this is sailing down on us. And I'm thinking, well, this is a great thing. Look at all this, George. And Antonio says, pekis, pick up the lady's shoes. Nothing else. My men will get the rest. So I'm following him, and I'm picking up ladies shoes out of the horse. Now, if you got a tight jacket on. And you can't really get your arms around. And your pants are so tight. They feel like you're going to fall over every time you bend down. Picking up ladies shoes is not easy. And it's also. It's not very fulfilling, not for a matador. So we circle the rings, and my arms are full of ladies shoes. We finish, and, as is often customary, a group of men come out. And they lift Antonio up on their shoulders. And they parade him out to the street. When they were going to parade him through the streets of the hotel. And the band comes to follow him. And left alone in the center of the ring is a sobra se with his arms full of shoes. I didn't know I could move as fast as I did to get back to that van as it was pulling out. I got back to the hotel, and I went into his Antonio suite. And Antonio said, hey, Pekis, you were wonderful. Just throw them on the bed. So I dumped the shoes on the bed. He said, come on, the wine is flowing, and we've got tapas. I went over, had a glass of wine. Ernest was enjoying himself. Knock on the door. He said, pekas, can you get that? I open it up, and there is the most gorgeous signorina you've ever seen. She's in stocking feet. She's holding one shoe. She says, I come for my shoe. So I usher her to the bed. I helped put. Put the shoe on her dainty foot. And Antonio and Ernst come over, invite her for wine. And we all have a glass of wine. And there's a knock on the door, and another knock on the door, and another knock on the door. And in they came. They reclaimed their shoes. They joined the party. It was wonderful. They stayed until the wee hours. And the next day, the photographer of Life magazine. Who'd been with us and taking pictures of the day before, he came with his prints of them. And there was a big 8 by 10 of El Pecos. With the two great matadors of the world on his right and left, beaming. And Ernest comes over and said, oh, that's wonderful how you found your true profession. I said, just a minute. It may be wonderful to you, but look at the front of their pants, those significant bumps, and look at the insignificant thing that I had. He said, how many handkerchiefs did you use? I said, handkerchiefs? You're my manager. You didn't tell me to use handkerchiefs. He says, well, you've been to a lot of bullfights with me. Didn't you see that all these matadors have nice humps in the front of their pants? I said, the subject never interested me until now. He says, all right, look, I can make it up. It's okay, we'll make amends. Antonio has his next fight in Ronda. He wants you to be his sober saiente again, and this time we'll make a level playing field out of it. I said, fine. And he said, and I'll tell you what we're going to do. And then he paid me one of the greatest compliments I ever got. He said, while they're dressing, they'll be using two handkerchiefs. But Tekas, you only need one. Only.
Dan Kennedy
A.E. hotchner is the author of many books and plays, including Papa Hemingway, the Man who Lives at the Ritz and King of the Hill. With his friend Paul Newman, Hotchner co founded Newman's Own Incorporated, which has donated more than $350 million to charity from its line of foods. Join the Moth at New Belgium Brewings Tour de fat in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park 1pm Sept. 22 for stories of bikes, beer and sustainable folly. For your chance to tell a story at the show, submit your one line pitch via email to tourdefatthemoth.org that's T O U R D E F a t@themost.org and check themoth.org for full event details.
Rosetta Stone
Our podcast host, Dan Kennedy, is the author of the book Rock An Office Power Ballad.
Dan Kennedy
Learn more@rockonthebook.com thanks to all of you for listening and we hope you have a story worthy week. Podcast audio production by Paul Ruest at the Argo Studios in New York Podcast hosting by PRX Public Radio Exchange Helping make public radio more public@prx.org.
In the episode titled "A.E. Hotchner: The Day I Became A Matador," hosted by The Moth, A.E. Hotchner shares a captivating and humorous true story from his life. Released on August 21, 2012, this episode delves into an unexpected adventure that intertwines friendship, bullfighting, and a series of unforeseen events in 1959 Spain.
Hotchner sets the backdrop in Spain during the summer of 1959, highlighting a significant bullfighting event—a mano a mano (a one-on-one bullfight) between the renowned matadors Jean Louis Dominguin and Antonio Ordóñez. He remarks:
"There hadn't been such a bullfight a mano a mano in 30 years, and there hasn't been one since then. So it was a great event."
(02:15)
Hotchner's longtime friend, the legendary writer Ernest Hemingway, invites him to cover the event for Life magazine. The two share a history of adventures, including fishing for marlin and hunting in Idaho. Hotchner recounts:
"Ernest said, that's fine, Hotchkiss. You should be ready to get in the ring, be a matador, and I'll be your manager."
(04:30)
Initially dismissing the idea as "red wine talking," Hotchner didn't anticipate it becoming a reality.
Upon arriving in Valencia, Hotchner witnesses the initial mano a mano, followed by another in Malaga. During a celebratory evening with wine and tapas, Antonio Ordóñez encourages him to take the plunge into bullfighting. The pivotal moment occurs when Antonio presents Hotchner with a bullfighter's suit:
"He said, I think it goes with your complexion. I said, my complexion right now is white and getting whiter."
(07:50)
Hotchner humorously describes the cumbersome nature of the matador's attire:
"There was no way really to move in any direction. I was mummified."
(09:10)
Despite his reservations, Hotchner finds himself dressed and eventually joins the bullfight as the sobra saliente (substitute matador). As the event unfolds, he observes the intensity and tradition of bullfighting. He shares a critical moment:
"I didn't know I could move as fast as I did to get back to that van as it was pulling out."
(16:45)
During the paseo (walk across the sand), Hotchner struggles with the tight uniform while collecting ladies' shoes thrown into the ring—a task far from fulfilling for a matador:
"Picking up ladies shoes is not easy. And it's not very fulfilling, not for a matador."
(14:20)
Post-fight celebrations include a triumphant tour of the ring, where Hotchner is showered with memorabilia. However, the experience leaves him alone with the remnants of his unintended performance. An amusing twist occurs when a signorina returns a misplaced shoe:
"There is the most gorgeous signorina you've ever seen. She's in stocking feet. She's holding one shoe. She says, I come for my shoe."
(17:30)
The next day, a Life magazine photographer presents Hotchner with a photograph capturing the moment. Hemingway's humorous critique about matador attire adds a reflective tone:
"He said, while they're dressing, they'll be using two handkerchiefs. But Tekas, you only need one. Only."
(18:10)
Hotchner concludes by highlighting the camaraderie and the lighthearted nature of the experience, underscoring how an impromptu decision led to an unforgettable adventure.
Hotchner on the uniqueness of the bullfight event:
"There hadn't been such a bullfight a mano a mano in 30 years, and there hasn't been one since then. So it was a great event."
(02:15)
Invitation from Hemingway:
"Ernest said, that's fine, Hotchkiss. You should be ready to get in the ring, be a matador, and I'll be your manager."
(04:30)
On being dressed as a matador:
"There was no way really to move in any direction. I was mummified."
(09:10)
Struggle during the paseo:
"Picking up ladies shoes is not easy. And it's not very fulfilling, not for a matador."
(14:20)
Hemingway's advice on handkerchiefs:
"He said, while they're dressing, they'll be using two handkerchiefs. But Tekas, you only need one. Only."
(18:10)
A.E. Hotchner's story is a delightful blend of spontaneity, friendship, and cultural immersion. His ability to navigate an unexpected role in the bullfighting arena, coupled with the humor and support from Ernest Hemingway, offers listeners an engaging narrative filled with laughter and reflection.