Exclusive Interview!

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A Visit with Cuban Pete

I bumped into “Cuban Pete” (literally!) in a very clumsy but fortuitous manner at Starfish in Miami Beach the night of his birthday celebration.  Andy Harlow’s band was jamming and the dance floor was packed.  A friend of mine and I were dancing the Casino-Style Salsa that is dominant here in South Florida and we were executing a move called “El Melón” which requires 5 quick turns in a row, when he accidentally let go of me.  The centrifugal force propelled me right into Cuban Pete...and when I realized who I'd bumped into, I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me!  I apologized profusely but he kept right on dancing with his beautiful partner, Barbara Craddock.  

Shortly thereafter the World Latin Dance Council representative took over the microphone and delivered kudos galore to this marvelous man who has given so much to the dance world for contributing to the preservation of “Clave”.  As he accepted the award, instead of enjoying the well-deserved limelight, he humbly asked those present for a round of applause for the dear friend he had just put to rest, Tito Puente, the King of Mambo.

Photos on this page courtesy of Pedro Aguilar
Cuban Pete and the King of Mambo

Cuban Pete was born June 14th, 1927 in Puerto Rico, as Pedro Aguilar, one of two twin brothers, but soon thereafter moved to New York.  His brother died of pneumonia when he was just an infant.  His early life was tumultuous and from age 3 to 5 he went to live with his uncle Joe in Washington, D.C.  There he learned how to dance to El Manicero and used to perform on a small platform in his uncle’s place of business. He returned to his parent's house, but at age five and a half, he, his brother Antonio, and his sister Socorro were removed from his parent's home by the court and went to live at the Mount Loretta Orphanage in Staten Island, NY.  Shortly thereafter they were placed with a Jamaican woman as a foster mother, in spite of the vast cultural differences.

“That woman ruined me,” said Pete.  “She was an angry woman, ultra-strict, and she was physically violent with us. That was the worst time of my life.” Pete and his siblings put up with being locked in a room all day on weekends when she wanted to go out, not to mention the psychological games she played with them and the routine physical abuse. After years of this treatment, Pete decided he couldn't take it any more.   

At age 13, he took his siblings and made his way to see Sister Cathy at the Foundling Hospital Headquarters to tell her of their dire situation.  She responded by removing them from that household, and then sending them to live separately with different foster parents.  “I went ballistic.  I blamed myself for the separation,” he said. “Every time the social worker would come to do an inspection, I'd ask about them (his brother and sister), and they’d always tell me that I couldn't visit them.  So I asked for their address so I could write them a letter.  When I got the addresses I took off and scoured the city until I found them.” 

At Pete's insistence, all three children were placed together at the Foundling Hospital, where they stayed until he was 19.  He could have left when he turned 18, but he didn't want to leave his brother and sister behind. “My childhood was a nightmare, but the only good thing that came from all those horrible years was my education.  I got a really good education.”

By this time, his mother had remarried and together with her second husband, Bobín Masdeu, they fixed up a three bedroom apartment on 111th Street, near Lexington and Park.  Finally the court allowed her to bring her children home.

Pete returned to the nest a very angry young man.  Living in the orphanage had taught him to earn respect for himself with his fists.  He funneled that energy into boxing, but at the same time his mother taught him danzón and bolero, and he credits her for his success.  Within the extended family there were parties every weekend and everyone danced.  Miguelito Valdéz, a former boxer from Cuba, told Pete one day that he should get out of boxing and just dance.  On a whim, Miguelito entered Pete in a contest and he won $1,000!  That was in 1950, and from that moment on he decided to stay in the dance world where he could make money by doing something he loved.  But for Pete it wasn't easy leaving the scars behind, or “taking the spots off,” as he says.  Some of those scars are still with him today and clearly visible as he talks about his early years.

“My happiness really came when I danced.  Tito used to tell me 'Listen to the Clave' and he kept me dancing.  I owe a lot to that man, along with Machito, Bobby Escoto, Marcelino Guerra and Pérez Prado, “The Prez”.  They taught me to listen to the Clave; it is our metronome.  Dance pulled me away from all the bad things that happened to me as a kid.   I discovered myself through dance, and learned how to love.  As a kid growing up I didn't know who I was.”

He discovered his background one day after a triumphant performance.  Noro Morales was playing at the Conga Room in New York and Desi Arnaz was there.  Tommy Morton presented Pete and his dance partner, Millie, saying, “Here he is again, Pete!  No, no, no, CUBAN PETE, King of the Latin Beat,” referring to a popular song of the era by Desi Arnaz.  After that, everyone referred to him as Cuban Pete, but his mother didn’t like it a bit.

She sat him down in the kitchen and said, “What is it with this 'Cuban Pete' stuff?   You're not Cuban.  You're Puerto Rican.”

But the name stuck anyway.  He had spent a good part of his childhood in a black Jamaican family, going to school with the inner city kids, but he wasn't black, he was Latino.  He didn’t even know how to pronounce his last name correctly.  But once home again, the music and culture drew him back in.  At the Palladium there were people of all races.  Segregation and prejudice, rampant throughout the nation, didn't exist on the dance floor.  Millie, who later became his first wife, was Italian.  It wasn't until they came down to Florida to dance that they realized that people looked at them strange.  In the dance world there was equality and peace of mind, but on the streets in the racially charged sixties, that certainly wasn't the case. 

In spite of the obstacles, he and Millie married and had a daughter, Denise, who still lives in New Jersey.  Pete later divorced Millie, although they are still on good terms, and even today get together and dance occasionally.  A second marriage produced a son, Pete, Jr., who lives in California, and a third marriage produced another daughter, Petrina, who lives in Florida.

“Do they Dance?” I asked him.

Pete smiles and laughs to himself.  “Yes, the girls dance, especially Denise.  ¡Baila como ella sóla!  Petrina dances very well too, just not Latin.”  But somehow Pete Jr. missed out on the family’s legendary dance genes.

“When my first child was born, I danced like I've never danced in my life.  Millie was in and out of the delivery room in 45 minutes. She was amazing!  When I saw Denise for the first time I was the happiest man on earth.  I danced with joy at the birth of each of my children, but I've never matched the performance I gave that first time.”

Pete spent the years from 1969 - 1982 working steadily for Warner Brothers.  “I've been lucky in my life,” he says.  I did choreography, played bit parts, solos, speaking parts and as an extra.  In 1982 there were major cutbacks in the film industry and Pete was let go.  He moved to Florida to be closer to his youngest child, but spends time in California and New Jersey with his other children as well. 

Throughout my visit with Pete he mentioned his children time and again, and it became clear to me that he considers them to be the greatest blessing in his life and certainly they give him the greatest joy.  He plays down his own achievements such as having danced for the Queen of England back in the mid-50's, or having appeared on the cover of Life Magazine.  There's even a book about him in the Lincoln library.  

This man who had very little formal training in dance, who dances from the heart, became the choreographer for the movie The Mambo Kings and taught Antonio Banderas how to dance, among many others!  He credits Catherine Dunham, a Haitian dance teacher in New York for having taught him technique, interpretation, and how to present himself on stage.  He only studied with her for a year, but that was enough of a solid base for him to build on to create his own unique style.

“I'm the luckiest man in the world,” he said.  “I'm a Puerto Rican kid from 111th Street who grew up in an orphanage, and today I'm sitting on the top of the dance world.”

STILL GOING STRONG! 
Cuban Pete continues to teach!

-->> Pete still teaches today with his partner and manager, Barbara Craddock.  He and Barbara have also developed a program for blood sugar control using dance as a form of exercise, as well as a program that raises endorphin levels, while fighting depression and maintaining muscle strength and endurance.  This program additionally benefits osteoporosis and its prevention. The program is currently being reviewed by the American Diabetes Association for endorsement.

Interviewed by
Miami, Florida, June 14, 2000