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In that Seville of the Seventies there were characters so famous that they did not need to appear in the newspapers. One of them was Alfonso Gamero Cruces, which no one will remember by name, because it was actually called ‘The Emerald’. Today, the city that he won without complexes and with the courage to carry his homosexuality as a flag at a time when no one dared to come out of the closet, fires him. ‘La Esmeralda’ has died.
Alfonso was a Transformist icon of the Seville of the Franco regime. She dressed as a flamenco dancer and told dirty jokes. He was free and he won the pardon of a public opinion that dealt with these issues indoors. La Esmeralda threw out her condition: «I am a fag with an accent on the o, which sounds like a vault ». This is what he made known to Joaquín Arbide in the film he made for him and which he later repeated to Jesús Quintero when he asked him if he was a sissy, gay, transsexual, homosexual or queer.
He made himself. He was so funny that he entered the world of entertainment as an assistant to his beloved Marifé de Triana. Only his surname separated him. Because La Esmeralda was from the wall inside. Macareno devotee, was nicknamed the Ladybugs of Hope. And he named the Fair booth most famous of the real one. The one that lives between Costillares and Pascual Márquez. Where the riders ate and where celebrities, politicians and even stale Seville went.
He was a broad brush painter and chairman of the Official Career until he went to work with Marifé, to whom he I ironed the bata de cola which then ended up hanging overhead. The world for montera. He became famous for word of mouth, like the great characters of Seville. He recorded vinyl records that sold like hotcakes, like ‘My best 69 jokes’. And he became a hospitality entrepreneur. On the road to La Rinconada he opened La Caseta, where he moved his usual lantern show the other 358 days of the year. That place that fled from the luxuries was the closet of ‘Lluvia de Estrellas’. Whoever entered the inside came out dressed in a travesty in a halo of smoke. An academy of transformism. In the bar of La Esmeralda the Estrellita ‘The Fantastic’, a classic character who continues to sing arrows to exchange them to the Virgins of Seville, to whom he shouts: “For my mother who is in heaven and made me a fagot” and that usually ends with a dialectical confrontation with the public.
La Estrellita learned it from La Esmeralda. Machuca told an anecdote with Luis Leon, the silver fox that had the green blood in his veins from calling the Dragon of Hope so much. The Macarena foreman asked him not to give any rally while Alfonso went as a Nazarene with cirio verde. “She lifted her tunic and showed him the old white petticoats with hope green ribbons that she wore.”
This Monday the life of whoever used it the most has died. On Friday, Alfonso suffered a stroke That was the only thing that won the game. From his transparent trunk where he took out the complexes to the Seville carca, no one has found your DNI. La Esmeralda has died and goes to the San Jerónimo funeral home, next to where he set up the local transformism in Seville. Nothing is a casuality. But to see who knows how many years he has been with the Macarena.
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