Eulogy for a Brown Angel by Lucha Corpi

Author:Lucha Corpi
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Arte Público Press
Published: 1992-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

Interlude

Who will it be?

And what will he say

When he arrives?

From the distance

He’ll call out, “Butterfly.”

Without answering, at first

I will stay away,

Partly to tease him,

Partly not to die

At our first encounter …

From “Un bel di,”

Madame Butterfly

by Giacomo Puccini

FIFTEEN

Voices and Visions

Robbing Tania and Darío of my attention, and often going without sleep and nourishment, I gathered as much information as I could about the Cisneros and the Peralta families during the period of six months that followed my return to Oakland. Soon, I had a box full of business profiles of Black Swan Enterprises and gossip columns with photos of Michael and Lillian, and of Paul Cisneros at various social and cultural functions.

Afraid that I would forget something important, I set down on paper the day-to-day activities I’d had with Kenyon in Los Angeles, and kept a journal of every conceivable clue I had come across since the murders.

Relentlessly, I pursued any lead that might clarify the connection between the Peraltas, the Cisneros and Cecilia Castro-Biddle.

In early December, 1970, reading through the archives at the Oakland History Room, I discovered two items of interest. In 1957, a newspaper article mentioned that Cecilia Castro-Biddle’s daughter lived in the Santa Cruz mountains. A few years later, another article referred to a small park that had been named after the Peraltas, and was located in the Fruitvale District, the heart of the Spanish-speaking community in Oakland. As soon as the weather permitted, I took Tania to play at my newly discovered Peralta Historical Park, and by felicitous coincidence, or so I thought at first, I met Charlotte and Celie Lamont, two elderly women who lived across from the park. Later I found out that chance had little to do with my meeting them, for they were often outside, even in winter, taking care of their garden and greeting everyone who visited the park.

Charlotte and Celie immediately took to Tania and me, and invited us to have some refreshments with them. Later, they asked us to pay them another visit. I liked them as well, and on several occasions I visited with them while Tania played in the park.

Charlotte was an opera enthusiast, and one day I found her listening to a recording of Puccini’s Madame Butterfly. As the soprano began the first few phrases of the aria “Un bel di,” I recognized the music that had been resonating in my head numerous times ever since the afternoon Luisa and I had come upon little Michael’s body.

“What is this song we’re hearing?” I asked Charlotte.

Instead of answering my question, she asked one of her own, “Do you know the story of Madame Butterfly?”

I didn’t I said. Charlotte, always eager to talk about the librettoes of her favorite operas, was delighted with the prospect of telling me about Madame Butterfly.

“Pinkerton,” Charlotte began, “is an American Navy officer stationed in Japan, who falls in love with Cio-Cio San, a Japanese lady; he decides to marry her in accordance with Japanese protocol. Endearingly he calls her Butterfly. Pinkerton is called back to the United States, but he promises Butterfly he’ll be back for her.

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