CULTURE-ARGENTINA: The Factory Closed, but the Band Played On

By Marcela Valente Reprint | | Print |

Marcela Valente

BUENOS AIRES, Nov 22 2001 (IPS) - A Belgian who emigrated to Argentina in 1928 decided to set up a band with the workers in his textile factory, like the one his father directed back home. But when the company collapsed in 1996 under a flood of cheap imports, the band played on.

“By the time I was 11 years old, I was already playing the trombone in the band,” José Chiurco, 78, told IPS. His father worked at the Algodonera Flandria, the cotton textile factory founded by the Belgian-born Julio Steverlynck in the province of Buenos Aires, 75 kms west of the capital.

The Algodonera Flandria, located in the district of Luján, employed 3,000 workers at its peak.

Chiurco, visibly moved by his memories, paused for a long moment before beginning to describe how the band, Rerum Novarum, survived when the factory closed.

“I’ve lived 65 years of joy and sorrow with the band. It is part of our history. Like a girlfriend is, you know? We can’t leave it, and sometimes we can’t even talk about it,” he said.

The story of the workers’ band, most of whose 30 to 40 members are today retired octogenarians, was profiled in a documentary shot by a group of recent film school graduates.

The film, simply titled Rerum Novarum, premiered this week in two theatres in Buenos Aires and one in Luján, a city located just seven kilometres from Villa Flandria, the small town that grew up around the now-defunct textile plant.

Although the chief aim of the young filmmakers was to give the band wider visibility than it had previously enjoyed, Nicolás Batlle, one of the directors, commented to IPS that while the team was filming, they worried that the public would not pick up on the “indirect message” that the documentary sought to transmit.

The film’s underlying message is that people must not give up hope, despite Argentina’s dire economic straits, soaring unemployment (above 15 percent), and widespread disenchantment with politics, he said.

The reaction to the film has been “incredible,” Batlle added. Spectators frequently come up afterwards to thank the filmmakers and tell them how the same thing happened to meat-packing plants and other companies in their hometowns.

Meanwhile, the band from Villa Flandria has won new fame, and its engagement book has filled up.

The filmmakers showed the documentary to a congress of Latin American physicians in a Buenos Aires hotel. After viewing the film, many of the participants in the congress were moved, and the conference room broke out in tears and applause when the band itself burst in playing.

“It was one of the happiest moments of my life,” said Chiurco. “At least half of the 300 doctors were weeping, and they embraced us as if they had always known us. There were Argentinians, Chileans and Uruguayans, and we became friends with all of them. They thanked us for allowing them to share that deep emotion with them.”

The phenomenon is reminiscent of the newfound fame that the documentary the “Buena Vista Social Club” brought a group of elderly Cuban musicians who were brought together by US musician and producer Ry Cooder.

The band from Villa Flandria is now discussing whether or not to accept a contract to take part in a commercial, and how many engagements they can realistically accept over the next few months.

“The other day, on our way back from playing at the close of the presentation of the documentary, I told the musicians: ‘Boys, this year we won’t be able to take two months of vacation. We have many engagements, and we can’t turn them down, because we owe the (musical) director several back salaries’,” said Chiurco, a central figure in the band.

It was Chiurco who, when he heard the factory was flagging, called his buddies together and told them “we have to talk and decide what to do if the factory closes.”

All of them wanted to continue playing, just like in the British film “Brassed Off”, which shows how a miners’ band survives the closing of the mine.

The Rerum Novarum band supports itself with contributions from each member, which go toward paying the salary of their musical director, maintaining their instruments and costumes, and covering the cost of the bus that takes them to their engagements.

“As treasurer, I have often had to add a few dollars from my own modest savings, and I have done so with pleasure,” said Chiurco.

The band was an initiative of the factory owner, Steverlynck, who named it Rerum Novarum in homage to the encyclical issued by Pope Leo XIII, which in 1891 laid the foundations for the social doctrine of the Catholic Church.

“Don Julio loved that encyclical,” said Chiurco. “He provided his workers with social benefits at a time when bosses walked around with whips hanging from their belts, and he even got a start on (Juan Domingo) Perón (three times president of Argentina) in terms of many benefits for workers, like the aguinaldo (holiday bonus) and vacations.”

When Steverlynck died in 1975, the whole town mourned. His widow continued visiting the townspeople, helping them out whenever a new baby was born, and welcoming each new family that decided to settle in Villa Flandria.

Chiurco’s history is closely entwined with that of the factory. The retired worker said his father, mother and four siblings lived in Luján, and his father rode on horseback to the factory in Villa Flandria every day.

Then “Don Julio bought land near the factory and parcelled it out, giving half a hectare to each worker. After that, he asked them how much they needed to build a house, and lent them the money,” Chiurco recalled.

“We had a beautiful house in Flandria. I was born there. At age 11 I joined the band, and at 13 I went to the cotton plant’s school for weavers,” he said.

The Rerum Novarum band got together every Saturday to play, and Steverlynck would invariably show up to listen. “He bought us our costumes and instruments, and paid the expenses when we went to play in another city,” he said.

In 65 years, the band has performed a total of 2,500 times. In the past, members had to work in the factory or be a direct family member of an employee. But now that the company closed, eligibility requirements are more flexible.

“We have doctors, workers, students,” said Jorge Moronda, who worked in the plant for 36 years and plays the tuba in the band.

“The only thing we ask of those who want to join is that they be respectable, and that they be dedicated to music,” he added. “If they don’t know how to play, we lend them an instrument until the director decides that they’re ready to join.”

Antonio Parra, another retired factory worker who plays the trombone, told IPS that he had to retire at age 51, because he worked in a standing position and had to undergo several operations on his legs due to phlebitis.

However, his illness did not force him to quit the band, because “luckily we almost always march.”

Telling the history of Villa Flandria and Rerum Novarum is a way to tell the history of Argentina, said the documentary-makers.

Batlle explained that in the movie, viewers see how Argentina declined from its glory days in the early 20th century, when it was one of the richest countries in the world. But the film also shows how the band has awakened hopes that the musicians themselves are unable to explain.

“All of a sudden I don’t know what’s happening, but we’re overwhelmed with invitations to go here and there and have an engagement calendar that is packed for months ahead,” said Chiurco before putting on his costume for a photo shoot.