Licia Espalato Wielenska 1933-2005

 * 16 January 1933  + 10 August 2005 

Every time I remember the period of 1969, 1970 & mostly 1971, when I longed so bad to go and live in the USA, one person looms out of it all... and this is Licia Espalato Wielenska. Licia was much more than a travel agent. She was a good-hearted lady who dealt in the  traveling business in a friendly and humane way.

I remember the first time I entered her office on the 2nd floor of a small building on the corner of rua Brigadeiro Tobias and rua Washington Luiz. It must have been April or May 1971. Her one-room office was just opposite the elevator with a door that opened to the hall and remained always open for business unless she had to go out on some errand. 

Ms Wielenska sat at her desk with her back to the window which looked onto rua Brigadeiro Tobias. One would see her as soon as one stepped out of the lift. I was told about her small travel agency by a friend of my older brother who had visited the USA in 1970 and had recently returned.

She was very meticulous in the instructions she gave her clients regarding the various steps one should take to behave like an international citizen when one had to go through imigration and customs. Since the very beginning I felt we had a partnership: she would introduce a plot and I would follow it zealously to the letter. 

Licia asked me about my job history and I told her I had been working as a clerk at Sao Paulo's Bar Association since April 1970.

It didn't take her long to come out with a fautless plan on how to secure a US entry-visa for someone in my circumstances. As I had been working at that office on Largo São Francisco for a year nothing more natural than to spend my yearly-vacation visiting the USA. I would spend 3 weeks in New York City and Washington, as there was a free-of-charge trip from NYC to Washington to those who purchased a Rio-NYC-Rio ticket. She told me I had to prepare myself psychologically for I might be  summoned by the US Consulate in São Paulo to be interviewed personally.

Even though I didn't know then, Licia was a Capricorn, born on 16 January 1933. That's why we hit it off so fast. She was a 38 year-old lady who had a 10 year-old daughter called Regina. I never knew much about Licia's private life but I knew she cared. I knew she had a brother called Lineu Espalato who worked at the Polícia Federal headquarters, just one block away, on the very same rua Brigadeiro Tobias,  

Every time Licia spoke the word 'aeroporto' (airport) she mispronounced as 'arioporto' which is not really uncommon but made it more conspicuous in Licia's case due to her business being centred mainly around airports. 

Whenever Licia explained something related to air-fare prices and she had to show how much a cruzeiro was worth in US dollars she wrote the @ symbol. For exemple: US$ 3.00 @ Cr$ 20,00 is equal to Cr$ 60,00. That was the first time I ever saw the symbol @ being used in lieu of the preposition 'at'. Forty years later @ would become a daily routine with the advent of the Internet. 

Just to point out how special Licia was, on the day for my departure to New York, on 1st October 1971, a  Friday evening, I and my family took a cab to Congonhas Aeroporto, and as soon as we got there, who did I see? Licia was already there with her 10-year old daughter Regina. This was definitely not part of a travel agent's duties. Licia wanted to make sure I'd follow all her instructions and wanted to wish me luck personally. Licia took the trouble to get her daughter and drive all the way to Congonhas to see one of her clients off. 

Licia brought a box of chocolate for me to take to Dona Eugênia, who had a news agency on 112 Ferry Street, in Newark, N.J., the place I was supposed to go in order to get myself settled in the US. Little did I know I would be in Newark in the next 12 hours.

That Friday, 1st October and Saturday, 2nd October were probably the most important point in my whole life. Nothing similar to it ever happened to me for the rest of my life. I did everything as if I were on automatic pilot. When they announced over the PA the plane to Rio de Janeiro was ready to board I just said goodbye to everyone and darted out downstairs (we were all up on the 2nd floor looking at planes arriving and taking off) with my guitar in hand, entered the tarmac, being one of the first passengers in the queue, climbed the stairs all the way up to the plane and took my seat. I had never flown in my life, but I didn't care. Anything would do. I was so enfatuated with all that was happening to me that I knew I couldn't look back. From the plane I could see my family waving goodbye to the plane.

Besides Mother, Father, Fernando, Osvaldo, Sandra and Rute there was auntie Dulce and cousin Gabriel; Licia and her daughter; Nino who had been told about my departure only the day before was there. He was crushed by the sheer novelty of the whole thing. There was no time for explanations. I only told him I kept my trip a secret for I knew it would go nowhere had I started talking about to him or everyone else. I guess he understood my point of view. I promised him I would write and kept him informed about my steps in the USA. 

The Varig flight to Rio took less than an hour. After arriving at Galeão International Airport we were soon taken to the jet that would take us straight to New York in the next hour. I took every minute as a matter of fact. An hour after taking off the plane crew served dinner to the passangers. I must have fallen asleep not long after that. There is not much to do on a night flight. One can see nothing but dark outside. Seven hours flew by without my realizing it. My first inter-continental flight was an anti-climax which was alright with me. Sooner than later the lights on the plane were on and the crew started preparing breakfast. 

Not long after breakfast instructions were given by the Captain through the PA system on how to fill in the immigration papers and what documents and passport to be ready to show the US authorities for we were about to land at the John Fitzgerald Kennedy International Airport. I wasn't nervous at all. I had some inner voice telling me everything would turn out alright in the end. 

I was one of the first passengers who exited the airplane after the first class had already disembarked. Passed through immigration swifly and went to the baggage caroussel conveyor belt where I would pick up my suitcase. I think having carried a guitar during the flight and going through immigration with it as a good omen. I was just a young man carrying a guitar.     

After coming back from my American experience in late March 1973, I kept in contact with Licia paying her a visit whenever I needed to exchange dollars into cruzeiros. Every time I tried to go back to the US, Licia was the one I headed to. Some time in the latter part of the 1970s, Licia decided to visit the USA herself. She flew 'low season' to visit Newark, New York and Washington. It must have been January or February for while Licia walked on the icy sidewalks she slipped, fell hard on the floor. She ended up breaking a leg and was in deep trouble for she had to pay top dollars to have her leg fixed and plastered. Her winter holiday was over and she flew back to Brazil as soon as she could.

Licia told me she had dinner with Tia Eugênia. They seemed to like each other and probably made business too. Licia also had a special friendship with Haroldo Cunha, who had been living in 'America' for quite some time. These are the only people I remember Licia quoting.

Colégio Estadual Carlos Maximiliano Pereira dos Santos, Vila Madalena 1963-1967

 

Aliomar Rocha, 16 December 1964; à jovem Maria Lúcia Martins, lembrança de seu estimado colega A. Rocha, Colégio Maximiliano, Vila Madalena.

Alcídio.

José Carlos front and back.

Vera Lúcia Zimbo, 4 November 1967, and Orlando were studentes at Maria Lúcia's class at Colégio Maximiliano, in Vila Madalena.

Orlando & Vera Lúcia's handwritings on back of their 3x4 photographs.

Christmas cards from a by-gone era

Leonor Lisbona, who lived on Rua Girassol corner with Rua Aspicuelta, was also a student at Colégio Estadual Carlos Maximiliano Pereira dos Santos known by all simply as Max. Circa 1964, there was a new trend among fellow Max students to give our best friends little Xmas cards wishing a Merry Christmas and at the same time hailing the New Year.  Here, Leonor was a little befuddled for she should have only hailed 1965 but ended up mistaking 1965 with 1964. Leonor wrote this message on 25 December 1964, not 1965.   

on 25 December 1965, Leonor wishes Maria Lúcia a Happy 1966. 

Here, on 25 December 1966, Leonor wishes Maria Lúcia a Merry Christmas and a Happy 1967!  1966 was the year we took Ginasium's 3rd year and looked forward to being finally graduated from Junior High in December 1967. 

Marcia Sedaka visits friends in São Paulo, September 2025

I met Marcia Espindola circa 2005, at a vynil record fair in a parking lot that used to be posh Cine Rio Branco, on Avenida Rio Branco. We started a conversation by chance while she was handling a box filled with long-plays and stopped at a Sylvia Telles recording. She said something about it and I agreed with her for both of us were secret Miss Telles' fans. Since then, we met countless times in both São Paulo or Rio. 

Marcia was born and have always lived in Rio de Janeiro, but her maternal grandmoher lived in São Paulo, so many a time, while still a girl, she had the chance to spend her holidays here. So Marcia ended up creating a bond with this ugly city. Now, since the Covid 19 pandemic Marcia hasn't turned up in Sampa, so it was high time she'd come. 

She panned a visit to São Paulo in mid-September and asked me if I would come along with her on some of the visits she had planned. She wanted to meet singer Denise Duran, who's the baby sister of 1950s sensation Dolores Duran and have been living in São Paulo since 1962. We arranged a date with Denise in an eating place in Pompéia and here are some of the photos we took on the afternoon of 19 September 2025. 

Beto Abrantes, a cultural agent who specializes in recorded music and restoration of art of all sorts was kind enought to join the party and make the day really special. 

Marcia Espíndola aka Marcia Sedaka, Beto Abrantes & Denise Duran at Padaria Trigo & Company, on Avenida Pompéia, 655, on the afternoon of Friday, 19 September 2025.

Beto Abrantes, Luiz Amorim aka Carlus Maximus, Marcia Sedaka & Denise Duran.

Beto photographs Denise Duran while she autographs the long-play she recorded with Marisa in 1961. See Dave Gordon's singles on the table... 

Beto is hell-bent in getting his best footage of Denise Duran signing her LP for him... 

Marcia looking at the camera & Denise checking out her cell-phone. 

Beto tells something funny to Denise & Marcia while Luiz is making faces for the selfie.

Marcia wanted to visit Centro Cultural São Paulo aka Centro Cultural Vergueiro to see how the Oneyda Alvarenga Night Club works. She had sent them a letter (read it below) and someone called Edson Marçal de Assis promptly answered her. 

Dear sirs

My name is Márcia Espíndola, pop music researcher and small-time vinyl collector. I found out about Oneyda Alvarenga Nightclub through Otavio Mesquita's TV show.

I'd like to schedule a visit with you when I'll be in São Paulo from  17 to 26 September 2025. I was really flabbergasted when I saw the amount of records and magazines you have in your department. What should I do? I'd love to see your collection and be able to listen some of your records. 

Do you have anything by the singer Marisa Barroso? She has a song one can't find anywhere called "Piano a Quatro Mãos". That would probably be it.

Yours sincerely, Marcia Espindola

Edson Marçal & Luiz Amorim at the CCSP

I was impressed with the lecture Edson Marçal gave us, Marcia Sedaka & Carlus Maximus on the afternoon of 24 September 2025. It's hard to imagine that there are still people like him in 2025. It felt like we were back in the 1950s. Seeing is believing. If someone had told me, I wouldn't have believed it.

Marçal told us the story why the CCSP record collection is named after Oneyda Alvarenga (1911-1984), who was a student at the São Paulo Conservatory of Drama and Music under Mário de Andrade (1893-1945). Andrade started a gathering of recording material since the early 1920s in order to make up a Public Collection where people could use. Due to political intervention, Mario had to quit his project and before he left the interprise he called upon Oneyda to go on with it. 

First Thoughts about being 75-plus

Hello, everyone! I hardly ever address myself to an especific group in mind but to the Universe at large, as it has become fashionable to say, lately. 

I sort of think about my own life as being divided in chucks of chronological sequences. Now I try to zero in on the subject of 'growing older'. Something that happens after you reach the mid-70s.  

In my case I noticed I sort of weaker than before 2 or 3 years. 

Friends who have already departed

Death is part of Life. Having been born in Marília-SP, a small city of 60,000, I was used to attend funerals since I was a small boy. Most people then died at home, and were mourned by relatives in their own living rooms. During a wake people usually left their front door open to welcome anyone who cared to go in and have a look at the deceased in a casket set at the centre  of the parlour. and pay their respect for those who remained. It was a 24-hour event. It was sort of a 'free-for-all' affair, so whenever I saw a little crowd nearby a home, I suspected there was a funeral taking place and whether I knew them or not I felt free to go in and check it out. 

I remember when my Father's aunt called Tia Nenê died in 1955. Four years later, in 1959,  my Mother's father, Giovanni Battista Darin, died at the ripe age of 87. That was an event that marked my life considerably. 

When kids died, we, children, felt the sting of death more dramatically. I don't remember having had friends who died when I was a child, except for my cousin Moacyr's only daughter called Marília, who died of when she was only 2 months old. I can never forget her little white casket sitting at the top of the stairs of Moacyr's living room on 4 July 1954. 

In 1960, when I was 11 years old, my family moved to São Paulo, a huge city. In a big city, people didn't mourn their dead in their living room...so Death is invisible. People die in hospitals and most are mourned at private or public parlours. It seems to me that there is a deliberate effort to avoid mourning people, unless they are celebrities like Elis Regina in 1982 or Ayrton Senna in 1995. 

I think Nino, was the first friend I had who died. He was murdered in early 1977, when he was only 28 years old. I only knew about his death one year later, in 1978, when I met a friend of his in town and he told me the sad news. 

Here is the list of my friends who died through the years:

1. Antonio Gonçalves Filho aka Nino (28) (28 April 1949) died on January 1977. 

2. Amira Shelhot  died on February 1983. 

3. Antonio Carlos Faria aka Totó (5 April 1951) died on 10 July 1998; 

4. Maria Gouveia (22nd April 1948, in Portugal)  died on 19 September 1998, in Sydney

5. Benjamin Grieve       died on 2nd November 2003, in Sydney

6. Ariovaldo Skrapec (54) (4 September 1950) died on 16 August 2004

7. Luiz Antonio Amorim (9 August 1961) died on 30 August 2009, in Marília-SP

8. Paulo Naoto Tyba * 7 July 1951; died on 7 June 2010, in Curitiba-PR.

9. Silvia Paula Jentsch (1st February 1942) died on 13 August 2010;

10. Ricardo Augusto Hypolito aka Cacau (7 April 1971) died on 2nd January 2014;

11. Mirian Almeida Pinho Rosa (5 February 1945, in Rio-DF) died on 23rd June 2015;

12. Maria de Lourdes Pelaes aka Malu (59) (November 1948) died on 19 March 2018;

13. Walter Teruo Tsutsui (74) (22nd August 1947) died on 16 April 2021;

14. Thaís Matarazzo Cantero (30 May 1981) died on 11 January 2023;

15. Vander Loureiro (5 June 1929, in Avaré-SP) died on 29 August 2024.

 

The day Amira Shelhot died in February 1983, I had to contact some of her friends like Beryl Davis, who was the last person she had seen on Friday night at her home on 2 Porter Avenue, Marrickville, Sydney. 

New Zealand

Our 747 inaugural fight Buenos Aires, Argentina to Auckland, New Zealand touched down at Taunga Rererangi o Tāmaki-Makaurau Airport on Monday, 7 September 1981. We had skipped Sunday altogether. 

Silvio with two bottles of milk we got at the local grocery shop. I found them quaint for they reminded of São Paulo in the early 1960s, when milk bottles were still in use in Brazil. Since then they had been substituted by plastic bags or cartons. 

Richard and Silvio straighten up some bedding in the early morning before breakfast.

Silvio plays the toreador to Richard's counter-attack. Richard's secretive dream was to have become a professional ballet dancer. Richard had some friend or connection in Denmark, just like Silvio, who had spent a year in Hamlet's home-country. 

This is the view we had from the beach house we stayed. 

Beautifully green the hills near the beach on the Tasman Sea. 

Myself & Richard climbing down from a family mixed business shop at this resort beach we spend 2 days. Black Goofy, Richard's beloved dog is on the right... 

Luiz, Richard Bruce  & Goofy strolling down the hill in green New Zealand. 

Valo, Richard's Chilean friend took this picture which reminds a bit of the Beatles' Abbey Road sleeve.

a silhouette of Valo (Osvaldo) who had been living in New Zealand for a few years. 

Note left by Silvio written in Portuguese using the cyrillic alphabet: Luiz, fomos a uma exposição e jantar na 38 Albert Street, paralela a Queen Street.  Seria bom se você pudesse vir. Otherwise, você pode entrar pela porta do banheiro do fundo. As luzes acesas te guiarão. Se vc ligar o Richard vai te buscar de carro. Silvio, 07 August 1981. (Silvio made a mistake here; he thought it was August but it was actually September). 

This was a dinner given by Warren, Richard's friend on the first day we stayed in Auckland. I had gone out by myself and missed the dinner altogether. The date is completely wrong. Silvio didn't realise we were in September...not August as he wrote. We had departed from Buenos Aires in the morning of Saturday, 5 September 1981; due to different time zones, we actually arrived in Auckland on the Monday, 7 September 1981, having 'lost' a whole day in the process. 

Our trip from Buenos Aires to Auckland skirting the South Pole was really out of the ordinary. Silvio managed to get into conversation with a New Zealander man who worked as a travel guide to a large group of New Zealand senior citizens visiting Chile, Peru, Bolivia and Colombia. This group had some youngish men too. As the trip was long many fellows left their seats there was a little crowd of mostly young men assembled in an area of the plane one could look outside through the windows and see if it was dark or light. I remember the plane took off around 8:00 am and as we were flying against the sun soon it became night... 

As it was the official inaugural crossing of the south Pacific up to the Tasman Sea, Aerolineas Argentinas offered smaller bottles of Argentine wine to the travellers. Soon everyone was high on Argentine wine. That's when Silvio approached me with this slim N.Z. fellow called Bruce Richard Hewet, who had lived in Denmark and apparently danced ballet while in Kopenhägen. 

Richard didn't like Bruce, his first name so he introduced himself to me as Richard. He was probably happy in talking about Denmark to Silvio who had been an exchange student in Kopenhagen only 2 years before. Richard knowing we were heading to Sydney to start a new life, invited us to stay at his house in Auckland for some time...and maybe we'd change our minds and settle in New Zealand instead of Australia. 

When we got off at the Auckland Airport; the hall was packed with a crowd which had gathered to welcome the NZ travellers who had taken part in the first official visit to South America. TV cameras were everywhere. New Zealand was then living thrilling times for the controversial Springbok Tour had been ongoing for almost a month now having split the whole country in two: those for and those against the Apartheid regime of South Africa. 

Another message written by Silvio in Portuguese using the Cyrillic alphabet.

Silvio & I cross over to Argentina

After leaving Porto Alegre around 2:00 pm on Wednesday, 2nd September 1981, we rode countless hours in that bus until it crossed the border with Argentina in Uruguayana-RS and kept on riding until twilight. It must have stopped again before night fall, but I can't recall it at all. 

On Thursday, 3rd September 1981, early in the morning, our General Urquiza bus stopped for refreshment and we noticed the scenery was a complete different one. No more red earth from Brazil but the conspicuous dark soil of Argentina. By the car plate colour one knows we're in Argentina.

  

Silvio and I engaged in conversation with this smiling fellow during the bus journey. He told us his story: he had met an Argentine girl in São Paulo during Carnaval 1981, fell in love with her and now he was going to visit her and possibly get married there. I don't remember his name but he was gracious to have taken photos of Myself & Silvio occasionally. 

Paraná, the capital city of the Argentine province of Entre Rios, located at the eastern shore of the Paraná River, opposite the city of Santa Fé, capital of the neighbouring Santa Fé Province. We were all happy to wake up to a new day in a brand new country: Argentina. See that tower in the back of us in the photo? It is Entre Rios Province's government house - Casa de Gobierno, Paraná, Provincia de Entre Rios.

It was twilight some time after we left Paraná, the capital city of Entre Rios province. We made ourselves comfortable in our seats for soon we'd be entering our third night on the road. After sleeping for a few hours I woke up about 3:00 am and felt restless; somehow I knew we were approaching Buenos Aires, Latin America's former largest city. And I was right...traces of a sprawling city started showing up and I knew I couldn't be wrong: we were about to get to our destination. I woke Silvio up and told him I suspected we were at the end of our long bus trip. I couldn't account for all our steps at this juncture but a little after 4:00 am on the Friday morning of 4 September 1981, we were out on the streets of Buenos Aires trying to get hold of a cheap hotel where we could stay for about 24 hours. 

It may seem strange but since we arrived in Buenos Aires, I forgot about my camera altogether. I didn't take any pictures of ourselves in the big city. 

I can't recall how but I guess Silvio was the one who found a hotel we could stay for one day: Hotel de las Americas, on Calle Liberdad, 1020, only a block away from the great Avenida 9 de Julio. We went into our hotel room but were too excited to try and get to sleep off the rest of the night. I don't remember how we spent those 24 hours. I only know Silvio went out by himself after the break-of-day and with an address written on a slip of paper proceeded to search for the abode of a young Argentine young man he had previously met in Peru or Bolivia. I stayed back at the hotel or went out to suss out the neighbourhood not too far from the great 9 de Julio Boulevard. 

Silvio was back at the hotel after a few hours accompanied by his Argentine friend; we three went to a coffee shop but he didn't stay too long. At twilight time we went out to eat in a real Argentine restaurant. Both of us ate Argentine beef. I wasn't a vegetarian then... and I thought there was too much meat in my plate. This restaurant was on 9 de Julio concourse. 

As I was worried about how to get hold of a van ('micro' in Argentina) that would take us to Ezeiza Airport in the morning, we sauntered down the great Boulevard until we got to a spot where vans left to the international airport which is quite far from downtown Buenos Aires. We were supposed to be at Ezeiza at 7:00 am. I knew if we missed the van or the plane we'd be in dire straits or Desolation Row. After talking to one of the vans' drivers and making sure how far the Airport was and how long the trip would take we decided to go back to our hotel room. 

On Saturday, 5 September 1981, I woke up really early. I slept by turns. We asked the concierge to wake us up at 4:00 in the morning but I was wide awake much earlier than that. We ended up leaving the hotel at 4:00 and walked up to where the vans started from. I was glad everything had turned out all right. 

Myself boarding Aerolineas Argentinas 747, at Ezeiza, ready to take on the whole world... 

Myself saying goodbye to South America. I wouldn't do it again for nothing in the world.

Silvio ready to go into the bowels of Aerolineas Argentinas huge 747 jet, on our way to Oceania. 

On our way to the South Pole & New Zealand... goodbye South America!

Serviette used at Aerolineas Argentinas trans-polar flight from Buenos Aires to Auckland. 

South Pole air ways: from Perth to Johannesburgh; from Melbourne to Rio de Janeiro; from Auckland to Ezeiza in Buenos Aires. 

Hotel de las Americas on Calle Libertad 1020, corner with Calle Marcelo Torcuato de Alvear, where Silvio & I stayed for one night, Friday, 4 September 1981, is only a block away from Avenida 9 de Julio, where we would get our van to Ezeiza Airport in the early morning of 5 September 1981. 

We left Uruguaiana at twilight of 2nd September 1981, and arrived at Paraná, capital of Entre Ríos province in the morning of 3rd September 1981. 

Silvio & I covered a lot of ground inside that Argentine bus having left São Paulo on Tuesday night, stopped next to Florianópolis in the early hours of Wednesday; then stop over at Porto Alegre at Noon. Left Porto Alegre at 1:00 pm; crossed the Argentine border after dark; had a stop at Paraná (here in the map is a city opposite to Santa Fé) on Thursday morning and finally arrived in Buenos Aires at the dawn of Friday. 

the distance between Uruguaina and Paraná, the capital city of Entre Rios. 

Entre Ríos Province is in red...just north of Buenos Aires Province...