Cuba's socialist system didn't undermine the artistic freedom of singer Issac Delgado with draconian repression or ideological censorship. It gradually got to him by bureaucratic nicks and cuts.
Before defecting to the U.S. last year, Delgado was one of the island's top salsa stars, a celebrity who enjoyed relative prosperity in Havana and traveled freely throughout the world to perform and record. But back home, he couldn't even get the government to authorize an Internet e-mail account, forcing him to find Web access on the black market.
That may have been just a communist inconvenience. But then two years ago, Delgado said, authorities decreed that Cuba's most popular dance bands would no longer be allowed to perform at major tourist hotels because they attracted too many Cubans carrying U.S. dollars to venues meant to attract U.S. dollars from foreigners.
"In Cuba, there's a Ministry of Culture that dictates which way things are going to go in music, literature and art," said Delgado, who performs today at the Playboy Jazz Festival, his first Los Angeles appearance since moving to this country. "Everything is channeled, and one can't step out of those boundaries. So I didn't feel free to do what I wanted because the ruling system tells you exactly where you can work and what you can do."
Delgado is speaking out for the first time since he quietly settled in Florida last year. Before anybody realized it, the singer was living in Tampa with his wife, Masiel, and their two daughters, 4 and 11, along with a son by his first marriage, Issac Jr., who plays piano in Dad's band. (The family took up residence with the singer's father-in-law, Miguel Valdes, former pitching coach for the Cuban national baseball team.)
I broke the story of Delgado's migration in January, but he wasn't granting interviews at the time. Silence is a smart strategy for somebody caught in that political limbo between Cuban stardom and U.S. exile. It's like walking the plank. Behind you are those who consider you a traitor. Ahead is nothing but uncertainty.
Delgado says he had been thinking of making a move for some time, but he didn't dare while his mother was still alive. After she passed away last year, he felt free to take the chance of leaving Cuba, perhaps never to return.
"If my mother were still alive," he says, "I would still be in Cuba today." His only lingering concern is the two children he left behind, a 20-year-old son and a 12-year-old daughter. Delgado says he hopes his decision won't jeopardize their future on the island.
