by Chris Perez
“Is she okay?” I said, but I was laughing by now, too, picturing this.
“Sure, she’s fine, but that dummy was trying to be slick with the thing and look what happened,” Selena said, wiping her eyes.
“What about you? Did you fall off?” I asked. “Are you okay?”
Selena gave me one of those looks. “Of course I’m fine. You know me. I can drive whatever.”
It was true, too. I’d seen her do it. From motorcycles to fast cars, from go-karts to trucks, Selena loved a fast ride, the wilder the better.
On February 3, 1993, Selena y Los Dinos performed at the Memorial Coliseum in Corpus Christi. Located on the bay, the Coliseum was built in honor of World War II veterans from Corpus. This building, which was unfortunately demolished in 2010, was an incredible place to perform mainly because of the enormous curved steel roof with its thin concrete cover—the world’s largest unsupported span when it was built.
We loved performing anywhere in Corpus, really, because we could get ready at home and didn’t have to rush, other than me trying to work around Selena in the bathroom. Tonight she was throwing a party at the house—just close friends and family—but the problem was that by now so many fans knew where we lived. They sometimes knew more about our schedule than we did.
We never had anyone act rude or offensive; at the most, fans might drive by our house with horns blaring, with one of Selena’s songs blasting from their speakers, or yelling out the window. This happened constantly after our shows in Corpus, so we kept the party a secret until after we were through playing that night.
Another secret—to me, that is—was the fact that we were planning to record the concert for the next album—the album that would eventually be titled Selena Live! It was probably best that I didn’t realize, since I was already feeling nervous about what kind of turnout we’d have, given that the Coliseum was the biggest performance venue in Corpus. I was also concerned about getting the sound check done and whether my gear would work. Selena y Los Dinos wasn’t a small family any longer; our productions now required a caravan of three eighteen-wheeler semitrucks carrying the band, the road crew, and our equipment. Nothing was as simple as it used to be.
When we arrived at the Coliseum, Selena and I were amazed by the number of cars in the parking lot. Over three thousand local fans had turned up for the show, but somehow the Coliseum officials had still managed to set things up to accommodate dancing, in true Tejano fashion.
I went onstage to check things out. Selena, meanwhile, went straight to the dressing room backstage, where she sorted through her clothing and made some last-minute costume decisions.
Suddenly I heard an announcement that we should all dress in our stage gear and assemble for a photograph that would appear on the album cover—and that’s when it dawned on me that this show would be our next album. Apparently, the decision to record the show had been made a long time ago, but I had never heard.
I didn’t bother asking questions. I just made sure that Selena and I were dressed and in the right place at the right time. This was one of those situations where Abraham would pull me aside to say, “Listen, don’t let Selena be late.”
“I’ll do my best,” I told him, which was pretty much my standard response. I knew that I didn’t have any more control over Selena than he did; the difference was that this didn’t bother me.
The show went well, but afterward I started to worry because I thought I had messed up quite a few times. In my mind, I went over and over the mistakes, and decided I’d have to fix them when we went into the studio to finish mixing the album. As it turned out, there were just two chords that needed to be fixed.
Selena, though, had a great time from start to finish. The weird thing about playing in your hometown is that you always worry nobody will show up, because everyone already knows you and has heard your music over and over again. Selena was ecstatic that night about having drawn so many fans and to have had such a fantastic audience for the show. She also knew that the crowd’s energy would transform the new album.
As planned, the band came over to our house after the show. It was a terrific party. What I remember most about that evening, though, is going into the bedroom after everyone else had left. Selena had gone to bed before me; I still had to let the dogs out and lock up the house.
“Hey,” I said, surprised to see the light still on in the bedroom. “What are you doing still up?”
She smiled at me. “Just relaxing,” she said. “Reading.” She picked up the fashion magazine off her knees and showed it to me. “Great show, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said, but I wasn’t thinking about the show or the party. I was marveling at my wife.
We had played well and entertained thousands of people. Now here was Selena, sharing my bed and looking as beautiful as she always did, just relaxing and reading like any other woman. She looked so down to earth and calm. How was that possible, after the energy she had expended to perform onstage? And how had I gotten so lucky, to be able to share these miraculous moments with her?
I got into bed with Selena and we talked a little more about the show. “I didn’t even know we were going to record it,” I admitted finally.
She laughed. “I told you, dummy. So did A.B.”
“I must not have been paying attention,” I said, and it was true: most of the time, I was paying attention to Selena. She already held a place deep in my heart, and I was falling more in love with her with each day that passed.
Selena’s gradual rise to popularity became a meteor ride in 1993 after the release of Selena Live!, which was our fourth album for EMI Latin and featured the live recording of Selena’s concert hits as well as three new tracks: “No Debes Jugar,” “La Llamada,” and “Tú Robaste Mi Corazón.” Those three singles rapidly rose to be named among the top five hits on the U.S. Hot Latin Tracks chart, and the album itself was certified Gold on the charts.
Shortly after the Corpus concert, the fact that Selena had become a major Latin attraction was confirmed when we played at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo in the Astrodome with David Lee Garza. Together, we drew nearly sixty thousand people, an audience that no Tejano act had ever managed to attract to that event before. Selena also won Female Vocalist of the Year and Female Entertainer of the Year at the Tejano Music Awards that year, as well as Album of the Year for Entre a Mi Mundo.
This success definitely didn’t go unnoticed by the record labels—in November, Selena y Los Dinos agreed to make an English-language record with SBK Records. One of our biggest supporters, Daniel Glass, the CEO of the EMI Records Group, compared Selena to Madonna in his interview with Billboard magazine, saying, “She has that same control, and I love artists that know where they want to go and how to get there. She’s definitely a pop star.”
Behind the scenes, Selena was excited about her success, but uncertain at times as well. She was loyal to her fan base and didn’t want to disappoint people by singing only in English. She intended to keep making Tejano music.
More worrisome to her was what might happen to her family and the band if she continued on this path to international stardom. One day, I boarded the bus to find Selena lying in her bunk and looking really depressed. Nothing bad had happened, but I could tell that she was out of it, almost in a daze.
“You okay?” I rested my hand on her forehead to see if she had a fever because her usual bright gaze was dull, but her face was cool. “You don’t look right.”
“Yeah, I’m okay,” she said.
“Sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
I gave her a kiss and walked on by, continuing to move my guitars onto the bus and into a closet. When I’d finished, I went back to the bunks to check on her. She was still lying there in the same position.
I sat down on the floor next to her. “Selena, what’s going on? What are you thinking about?”
She sighed. “I’m thinking about the mainstream English album.”
“Are you nervous?”<
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“No, I’m not nervous,” she said. “That’s not it.”
I tried to reassure her anyway. “It’ll be fine, you know. Look at the hard work we did for the Latin side. It won’t be as hard as it was when we played in Mexico the first time, and you succeeded there. You’re doing great. You won’t have to worry about anything. You’ll be an American artist, same as you are now, only you’ll be singing in English over and over again just like you’re singing in Spanish over and over again now.”
This made Selena laugh. “I know,” she said. “I know it’ll be a lot of work, but I can do it.”
“Right,” I said. “You’ve never been afraid of working hard, and you’re going to be great.” I watched her for a minute, alarmed because I saw that Selena was on the verge of tears.
“Tell me,” I said. “Please talk to me. Why are you so sad?”
She shuddered a little and turned on her side to face me. A tear slid down one cheek and her voice was hardly over a whisper. I needed to lean closer to her to hear the words.
“It’s just that I was thinking about what it’ll be like when I have to go and do those concerts in English,” she said. “The music is so different from Tejano. You’re probably the only musician in the band who can play pop songs. A.B. is already saying that he can’t go because he’s not that kind of bass player. Suzette can’t play drums like that, because she doesn’t know how to play drums for pop music. Los Dinos won’t cut it in the mainstream.”
I took Selena’s hand but couldn’t say anything. I knew that she was right. I just hadn’t thought about this before. I had grown up playing rock music and pop music, and I was a good enough guitar player to learn anything off a record.
I knew that I could play the music the label wanted us to do for a mainstream English-language album. The other guys couldn’t, other than Ricky, probably, but that wasn’t where his heart was. If Selena was going to stay at the top of her game and make it in the mainstream commercial music world, she needed to be backed by a band as tight and sophisticated as Mariah Carey’s or Whitney Houston’s. She didn’t have that in Los Dinos.
“So what do you want to do?” I asked. “Do you want to not make the album?”
Selena cried harder, hearing this. “I already signed the contract. Besides, you know I want to make it. But I just don’t know if I can be singing onstage, turn around, and not have A.B. and Suzette up there with me. It’s not going to be the same.”
“No,” I agreed. “It won’t be the same.” I took a deep breath, then asked, “Are you telling me that, if you’d thought of this before, you would have told them you wouldn’t make the English album?”
Selena looked me in the eyes and nodded. “Yes. That’s what I would have said.”
I was conflicted. I knew that Selena wanted to succeed on an international level—that’s what she had worked so hard for all her life—but I also understood her enduring loyalty and love for her family.
“Everything is going to be fine,” I said at last, even though I only partly believed this. “Suzette can take drum lessons and A.B. can start stretching himself on the bass. They can learn. And we’ll still play some Spanish songs with the other guys for more Tejano albums, too.”
“You really think we can make it work?” Selena asked.
“We can try,” I said. “That’s all anybody can do, right?”
Selena Live! came out on May 4, 1993, shortly after Selena gave me the truck for our first wedding anniversary. When it was nominated for a Grammy, none of us could believe it, despite all of our recent successes. Selena and I flew to New York with Suzette, A.B. and his wife for the awards ceremony in Radio City Music Hall. Of course we were all excited to be nominated, but I don’t think any of us ever imagined that we might actually win.
Selena and I were mainly thrilled to have a chance to meet some of the performers we admired, or at least see them perform in person. I was particularly looking forward to seeing Sting, but the one Selena couldn’t wait to see was Whitney Houston, who was one of her favorite singers.
As our plane began its descent over the Manhattan skyline, I looked past Selena and out the window. The Twin Towers loomed in the distance, and I couldn’t believe how tall they were. I thought those must be the buildings that King Kong had climbed on in the movies I’d watched as a kid. We could see the Statue of Liberty, too, small but gleaming in the distance, and a tingle of excitement ran up my spine. I couldn’t believe that I was finally going to see New York City.
We took a limo from the airport to a hotel around the corner from Radio City Music Hall. As Selena and I stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of the hotel, we were immediately assaulted by the smells, the blaring car horns, and the crowds of people. New York was nothing like Corpus, or even San Antonio.
Selena entered the hotel ahead of me. As I moved to follow her into the lobby, an angry altercation broke out on the street as a taxi driver got out of his car and started yelling and swearing at another driver, who came over and banged on the taxi’s hood with his fist.
I must have come inside in a hurry and with some weird expression on my face, because Selena said, “Everything okay, Chris?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “These two guys were fighting outside. A taxicab driver and some other guy.”
“Don’t go back out there alone,” she advised.
I immediately agreed. We had seen New York City in the movies, but it seemed like the people here were even crazier than they seemed on film.
The awards show wasn’t until that night. Abraham had arranged for Selena to have meetings with record label executives that day, so she went to those with A.B. and then went shopping with Suzette. I did end up braving the New York City streets alone, meanwhile, and bought some gear I couldn’t find in Texas.
For the show, Selena wore a floor-length beaded white dress with a fishtail hem in the back. She was really nervous by then, and kept losing her temper with me because the back of the dress dragged on the floor and I kept walking too close to her and stepping on it by mistake.
“Back up a little bit, Chris,” she whispered at one point. “It’s hard enough to walk in this thing. If you step on the hem, I’m going to fall down, and I sure don’t want to do that right here in front of everybody.”
We all sat together in the Radio City Music Hall theater. When Selena’s name was called as the Grammy winner in the Best Mexican-American album category, we all jumped up out of our seats and cheered.
“Oh, Chris!” Selena whispered to me. “I can’t believe I won!”
I gave her a hug and then nudged her. “Come on, come on. You’ve got to go down there and make your speech!”
“What if I fall on this dress? Oh, please don’t let me trip and fall on the way down there,” I heard her murmur as she made her way out to the aisle and started toward the stage.
Selena didn’t trip, and she had never looked more beautiful than that night in her beaded white dress, with her hair tamed into an elegant updo, as she gave her brief speech thanking Jose Behar, the band, and all of her family members.
After the speech, Selena was whisked away backstage while the rest of us enjoyed watching the remainder of the show. Selena had been so starstruck by the idea of meeting other artists at the Grammys that she had brought a camera to take pictures of herself with them; unfortunately, they hadn’t allowed us to bring the cameras into the theater, so I knew that she must be feeling frustrated backstage. Besides, I thought with a grin, Selena would be the one that everyone would want pictures of now, since she was one of the winners.
As we left Radio City Music Hall that night, we heard people screaming Selena’s name outside. She couldn’t believe they knew her name. But she was still cool, waving at all of them like she was the First Lady or something, even though that whole time she was worrying about falling on that dress.
Then it was over, and Selena could say that she had won a Grammy. It’s funny how winning a Grammy doesn’t seem like such a big deal
until you win it—and then it’s a very big deal indeed, mainly because you’ve been recognized by the music industry and other doors begin opening up to new opportunities all around you, simply because you’ve earned the industry’s nod of approval.
For A.B., too, this was a big day. He had been trying to get people to pay attention to his production quality, and at the end of the day, he was recognized as a great producer. We were all parts of his puzzle, but he was the one who had put the pieces together.
Many thought of Selena as a solo artist—the name “Los Dinos” had even been dropped from the front of her albums by the time she won the Grammy, and we were credited only on the back—yet I knew that every time we put out a new record, other groups were now trying to imitate our sounds, and would be for a long time to come. Selena was right: all of us had come to rely upon one another as family, and it was important for us to stick together.
ELEVEN
DREAMS COME TRUE
AP Photo / Houston Chronicle, Paul Howell
Abraham had once called me “a cancer” in the Quintanilla family. I turned out to be benign. Nobody detected the real cancer, which appeared in the form of a short, homely woman named Yolanda Saldivar.
I first met Yolanda shortly before Selena and I were married, when we were still seeing each other on the down low. My first memories of Yolanda are vague. I used to see her at some of our shows, usually in San Antonio. Occasionally she would be on the bus, too, visiting with Selena and Suzette. Once I became acquainted with her, I might say, “Hey, what’s up?” if I walked by Yolanda at a show or on the bus, but that was it.
Beyond that, everything I knew about Yolanda at first was hearsay. To me, she was just another friend of the Quintanilla family—a friend whom everyone seemed to like and trust. I was polite to her but that was as far as our relationship went in those early years.
