Lucía Zárate: The odyssey of the world’s smallest woman

by Cecilia Velástegui

  “Don’t be daft!” replied Señor Zárate, as usual the expert on absolutely nothing. “Of course it’s warm. It’s a steaming-hot port city like Veracruz.”

  “I hope there’s a Café de la Parroquia in San Francisco. I want to drink a cup of hot chocolate with vanilla and cinnamon. Do you think we can drink hot chocolate there, Lucía?”

  Lucía had grown tired of correcting her parents’ many errors in common sense and in life, and although she knew their train would have to cross California’s treacherous and icy Sierra Nevada mountain range before reaching San Francisco, she didn’t fear the snow outside. After all, she’d survived two transatlantic crossings; she’d been windblown in Chicago, and she’d been pelted by a Northeaster along the Eastern seaboard. Despite everything Nature had thrown at her, she’d survived. Lucía hugged her mother.

  “I’ll make sure you drink a cup of hot chocolate in San Francisco, mamá,” she said.

  Had Lucía listened beyond the howling winds as the train she was riding breached California’s infamous Donner Pass, she might have heard the brujo’s incessant warning whistle. This was the whistle she’d always heard before a calamity befell her, the whistle she’d misunderstood until this moment, on this train, on this icy pass.

  This stretch of the Sierras carried its own frigid curse: it had already massacred hundreds of people, and had even turned the starving survivors of the Donner party into cannibals. The mighty train Lucía was riding appeared unsusceptible to the cursed weather along this stretch of the Sierras, but the passengers had no idea that forceful winds had already snapped Western Union’s telegraph wires and dumped twenty-four feet of snow—snow that had hardened into lethal blocks of ice ready to crush the train.

  By the time Lucía heard the brujo’s warning whistle, the train had come to its final screeching stop, miles from the nearest town of Truckee. Señor Zárate and the other passengers rattled around the train in a frenzy, but Lucía and her mother remained calm, accepting fate’s glacial and deadly blow. Days passed and no help arrived, although in the distance they could hear snowplows and echoing shouts, telling them help was on its way. But the ominous snow continued to fall. Soon the weakest of passengers became ill with La Grippe, the first victims of the Great Sierra Snow Blockade of 1890.

  Although the heat inside the vanilla curing house was unbearable, Zoila stayed indoors checking the quality of the aroma of the year’s crop. When she’d returned to Veracruz, she’d sold the gold watch and added the money to the proceeds of her accumulated earnings as Lucía’s governess. She’d met with the Totonacs and together they bought a curing house that once belonged to a Frenchman. He’d mysteriously disappeared from Paplanta. Now Zoila was in charge of the Totonac vanilla cooperative, known to buyers here and overseas for its first-grade vanilla.

  She wiped her brow and looked at the calendar on her desk: Wednesday, January 29, 1890. It was the day she was scheduled to meet with a group of Yankee investors who’d visited the Mexican pavilion at the Philadelphia Centennial Exhibition. She couldn’t wait to spar with them, to make them sweat, to show them what an armadillo negotiator can achieve for her people.

  Only when Zoila heard the faraway whistle did she step outside and followed the intermittent tune of a reed flute. It was January and not yet time for the Totonac Flying Men to perform their ritual dance. They were still out working in their land, protecting the vanilla beans from poachers. Zoila clutched her chest in consternation. The leather sheath covering her dagger and a locket containing Lucía’s brown hair rested safely in her warm bosom.

  Zoila followed the whistle past the sacred ground where she’d buried the vial of Felipe’s blood. Although it wasn’t yet dusk, the sky had darkened with flocks of black crows, Paplanta’s namesake. She looked into the trees and glimpsed a tiny horned owl tumbling uncontrollably to earth. This was the most ill-boding of omens for the Totonac. That’s when Zoila knew what was happening to Lucía.

  “You’re tiny but you’re mighty,” she shouted to the sky, hoping to see the owl pick up flight again, signaling a change in Lucía’s fate. “You’ve survived catastrophes!”

  The reed flute tune grew louder and Zoila cried out again; fully aware of Lucía’s fate.

  “You’re now flying with the bird-men of Paplanta! This is your final dare-devil acrobatic stunt under the biggest top of all.”

  The flute sound had ceased, but Zoila didn’t stop. She’d been Lucía’s teacher and friend and she would accompany her to the end of her odyssey.

  “Praise the earth, air, fire and water,” Zoila whispered. “Look to the east, for that is where you came from. Look to the west for that is where you are going. Look up to the sun and soar in its luminous rays.”

  Just as there are perplexing facts in Lucía’s life story, the cause of her death is also uncertain. On January 31, 1890, The Sun in New York City reported the date of Lucía’s death as two days earlier, January 29. In an article headlined with “The World’s Smallest Woman”, the newspaper reported what had happened to her:

  A dispatch to The Sun yesterday from Truckee, Cal., announced the death, on a snow-bound train there, of the smallest specimen of humanity the world has ever possessed accurate record of. Lucía Zárate was accounted by high medical authority as a marvel. Several managers had grown wealthy in exhibiting her, and she had appeared in every civilized country on the face of the globe.

  Additional contemporary reports confirm that the snow blockade lasted about fifteen days. Lucía was on a Central Pacific train during the blockade, and the food supply was scarce. It’s possible that Lucía consumed canned food brought to the passengers by rescuers, and subsequently fell ill with gastric fever.

  However, because there were so many passengers onboard sick with the flu, and temperatures were extremely cold, it is probable, as other newspapers of the era reported, that Lucía perished on the train due to some combination of hypothermia and gastric fever, or from diphtheria.

  What the records do confirm is that her body was embalmed by a Dr. Bond in California, that her parents were not allowed to cross into Mexico with her remains until they paid a bribe, and that she was finally laid to rest near her family’s home in Veracruz.

  The journey that led me to Lucía Zárate started in 2013, when I returned to the Loire Valley to revisit places where I’d lived as a college student in France. While visiting the château at Blois, I saw a small oil painting of what at a distance looked like a whimsical cat, standing upright and dressed in an ivory and pink embroidered dress with a white lace collar. Except this was not a cat. She was Antonietta Gonzalez, a sixteenth-century girl who suffered from what is now known as hypertrichosis universalis, a condition in which the whole body is covered with hair. Once I returned to California, I read all I could find on Antonietta and her entire family. This led me to research other young women from the distant past who had been exhibited publicly for their unique physical traits. I discovered that their medical conditions had brought them fame—along with shame, disappointment, and tragedy.

  Of the four young women I researched, the one who perplexed me the most was Lucía Zárate from Mexico (1864-1890), because the facts of her adventurous life were particularly convoluted. Based on my experiences living in Mexico and having sojourned in many of its remarkable cities for the last forty years, I started my research with Lucía’s birth records—and lo and behold—I was immediately captivated by the prospect of telling her story. In no time, I realized that I had undertaken the daunting project of putting together the one-thousand-piece puzzle of her short and remarkable life.

  After my disappointment with the many questionable sources on Lucía, I decided to rely on the information scooped from hundreds of newspaper articles from Lucía’s era. With these bits and pieces of data, I was able to synthesize the known facts about Lucía’s life with specifics of her apparent personality traits. I then layered my knowledge of Mexico and its ancient myths with the Mexican vanilla trade of the era. To this comprehensiv
e material I then fused pertinent details about the seedy sideshow phenomenon of the late 1800s, the rise of the big-top circuses, and finally the specifics of the Great Sierra Snow Blockade of 1890, which eventually took Lucía’s life. Despite this systematic approach to uncovering as many facts as possible about Lucía in order to create an accurate portrayal of her life, ultimately, this novel is a work of historical fiction.

  Lucía Zárate continues to fascinate scientists in the field of genetics. As recently as 2013, scientists speculated that Lucía’s extreme short stature was very likely due to a disorder now known as Majewski Osteodysplastic Primordial Dwarfism Type II (MOPD II). Among some of the telltale features of MOPD II are a prominent nose, farsightedness, and a high, squeaky voice. Additionally, before I started to write this novel, I confirmed that there are no known documented accounts of pain associated with living with MOPD II. What intrigued me about Lucía’s disposition were the consistent reports of her outgoing, sociable personality and her normal intellect (she spoke three languages); scientists now report these as common traits of present-day MOPD II patients. The Guinness World Records still lists Lucía as the lightest woman ever, and she is also among the shortest women on record.

  Following are updates on subjects covered in this novel:

  The memory of Julia Pastrana finally regained its dignity when her remains were interred in Sinaloa, Mexico, in 2013, more than 150 years after her death.

  Recent scientific findings point to Carolina Crachami as the oldest known case of MOPD (Microcephalic Osteodysplastic Primordial Dwarfism). As of February 2015, her skeletal remains were still exhibited at the Hunterian Museum in London.

  Six months after Lucía Zárate’s death, a Barnum and Bailey circus train derailed and caused the death of two animal caretakers and thirty-eight circus animals. In November 1890, P.T. Barnum suffered a stroke and subsequently died on April 7, 1891.

  Tony Pastor, owner of the theatre where Lucía made her debut, came to be known as the father of vaudeville.

  In 2009, UNESCO recognized the ritual dance Danza de los Voladores de Paplanta, the Dance of the Flyers of Paplanta, as an intangible cultural heritage.

  The vanilla trade worldwide continues its boom and bust cycles. The year 2016 saw a poor harvest.

  Images and videos of the Jaquet-Droz automata and of the Jumeau dolls can be found on the Internet.

  In 2009, UNESCO recognized the whistled language of the Canary Islands as a Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity. At present, there is a revitalization of the Silbo Gomero whistling language.

  My most sincere appreciation goes out to Paula Morris for her insightful editing, to Tina Trang for her painstaking research, and to Éva Vágréti for her illustration magic. I am very grateful to my patient and creative book designer Karrie Ross; my good friend and photographer Lisa Baker, who’s accompanied me on many book signings; my book publicist Kim from L.A.; Brigitte Aguilar for her administrative help; and the ingenious technical team of Sarah and Kevin Bunch. I am forever thankful to the International Latino Book Awards organization, Las Comadres de las Americas National Book Club; the Latina Book Club; and the Martinez Book Store for their tireless efforts to promote the works of Latino authors. A big hug goes out to my friends and fellow book club members from Orange County and to my group of international bibliophiles for their ongoing support. Thank you all!

  As always, I extend all my love and gratitude to my children and my husband for their constant praise and encouragement of my writing life. Finally, after spending years on the Lucía Zárate project—and by extension on Carolina Crachami, Julia Pastrana, and Antonietta Gonzalez— I completed this novel in Tuscany, where I strolled around ancient vineyards and whistled a bittersweet tune in tribute to their memory.

  September 29, 2016

  Montalcino, Italy

  We hope these discussion questions will enhance your reading group’s exploration of Cecilia Velástegui’s novel, LUCÍA ZÁRATE. They are meant to stimulate discussion, offer new viewpoints and enrich your enjoyment of the book.

  1. The novel is framed by the risks and realities of the vanilla trade in nineteenth-century Mexico. Why do you think the author chose to structure the novel this way? How do these risks relate to Lucía’s fragile constitution and to the perils she would encounter by being exhibited abroad? In what way is the vanilla trade symbolic of Lucía’s life?

  2. To what extent does the initial chapter concerning Zoila’s life in Paplanta enhance your understanding of her loyalty to Lucía?

  3. In what ways do the chapters about Lucía’s childhood in Mexico contribute to a deeper understanding of Lucía’s later life?

  4. What is the importance of loyalty in Lucía Zárate? In what ways does the author contrast the treachery and greed of sideshow life with the quality of loyalty and instances of caring?

  5. What effect did that opening scene of peril and flight have on your perception of the story that follows?

  6. What sort of atmosphere does the author create by using the sorcerer’s whistle as a recurring motif? Does it initially alarm Lucía and Zoila and how does the motif progress through the novel?

  7. How was Lucía’s self-perception shaped by the beliefs of others that she was not human, but rather a mythological chaneque?

  8. Consider Zoila’s father’s advice to “always follow the money.” Did Zoila heed his advice or did she opt to put Lucía’s immediate welfare first?

  9. Despite viewing herself as an “armadillo,” how naïve is Zoila? Why didn’t she stand up to Frank Uffner’s or Señor Zárate’s greed?

  10. In what ways did Zoila’s compassion for Lucía limit the options she had to lead her own life in a different direction?

  11. Consider Lucía’s progression from a hyperactive and charismatic personality that charmed audiences to a lackluster performer. How would you describe her last phase of her professional life?

  12. Consider parallels between Lucía’s diva–like behaviors to today’s young celebrities.

  13. How did Lucía cope with her fishbowl existence?

  14. Zoila remarks, “As I said earlier, an odyssey is a long and adventurous journey,” to which Lucía replied, “But you also said that during an odyssey one faces both adventure and hardships.” Do you think that Zoila could have prepared Lucía for the hardships?

  15. What parallels does Zoila perceive between the possible trajectory of Lucía’s life and that of Julia Pastrana, Carolina Crachami, and Antonietta Gonzalez? Comment on the statement, “Zoila resolved to uncover the devious ways these so-called promoters employed to entice unique girls such as Julia Pastrana and to use this knowledge to prevent Lucía from falling victim to their cunning ways.”

  16. In what ways were Lucía’s shipboard travels transformative for her at different stages of her life?

  17. Reflecting on the fact that Frank Uffner felt he had, “Single-handedly created her stage persona, and because of his genius as an impresario, her fame had spread worldwide. Soon, he and he alone would enjoy his well-deserved payback.” Do you think Frank Uffner enjoyed the funds he earned through exploitation of his performers?

  18. What were the pivotal moments that helped Lucía to become a resilient young woman?

  19. What is the purpose of the motif of the flying-men from Paplanta? What does this ancient ritual represent in the novel?

  20. What does the vial of Felipe’s blood symbolize?

  21. Lucía was betrayed emotionally, financially, and romantically by her father, Frank Uffner, and General Mite, yet her sense of duty to her family was foremost. Are the morally ambiguous actions of characters, such as Mr. and Mrs. Uffner and Señor Zárate, redeemed?

  22. What is the symbolism of the circus trains and train accidents vis-à-vis the wheels of progress of circuses in the U.S.?

  (Questions issued by the publisher.)

  GLOSSARY

  Amigo

  Friend

  Ay!

  Oh!

&nb
sp; Beaucoup charmante

  Very charming (f.)

  Brujo

  Sorcerer

  Buñuelo

  Fried pastry dusted with cinnamon sugar

  Carte de visite

  A small photograph mounted on thicker card

  Chaneque

  Sprites in Mexican mythology

  Caxixanath

  Hidden flower, vanilla beans

  Cenote

  A deep natural water hole found in limestone.

  Cherchez l’argent

  Follow the money

  Comprende

  Do you understand?

  Coquero

  Coconut vendor

  Don

  Sir. A courtesy title for a man

  Doña

  Madam. A courtesy title for a woman

  Frijol saltarín

  Mexican jumping bean

  Gringo

  North American. (informal)

  Guajolote

  Turkey

  Hola, muñeca

  Hello, doll

  Laissez les bons temps rouler

  Let the good times roll

  Levée

  Performance – idiomatic expression

  Madrina

  Godmother

  Más dinero

  More money

  Mordida

  Monetary kickback, bribe (slang)

  Mucho dinero

  Lots of money

  N’est-ce pas?

  Isn’t that right?

  Ofrenda

  Offering

  Papá

  Father

  Patrón