In a little apartment building on North Las Palmas Avenue, just a short walk from the famous Sunset Strip, lived all sorts of interesting people. This was in a place called West Hollywood, where the sidewalks shimmered with stars and fancy cars zoomed by. Sometimes, you’d even see famous faces—though some were from a time long ago, when their fame was bigger than the stars.
We lived on the first floor, right by the pool. From our window, we could see the blue rectangle sparkling in the middle of the courtyard. The building was full of people who had lived so many different lives, but no one could forget the man who lived just down the hall, Mr. Fisher. He was the father of Eddie Fisher, the famous singer! He had been married to movie stars like Debbie Reynolds and Elizabeth Taylor, and he loved telling stories about them over a cup of tea.
Our neighbors were just as exciting. On one side, there was a group of singers called “The Girls from Bahia,” and on the other, an actress who always played the role of a mother-in-law on TV. She wasn’t too fond of the music from Brazil, though. The building was full of actors, musicians, and even sailors who had once traveled the seas. It was a magical little place, run by a grumpy landlord named Mr. Schnyder.
One night, while walking on Sunset Strip, we saw a sign that made our hearts leap: “Brazilian Music Tonight.” Of course, we had to go in! The sound of the cavaquinho and the guitar filled the air. The musicians were old, but their music was full of life. During the break, we introduced ourselves, and that’s when we met Zezinho Oliveira—who was none other than the voice of Zé Carioca, the parrot from the Walt Disney cartoons! That was the start of a wonderful friendship.
We returned many times to hear Zezinho and his friends play. Sometimes, the famous accordionist Sivuca would join us when he wasn’t busy with concerts. The music carried us on journeys through time, from Carmen Miranda’s catchy tunes to the smooth rhythms of Tom Jobim.
Zezinho’s house was always open to friends, and he never turned away anyone in need. Every Christmas, he and his wife sent cards to everyone they knew. We received them, even when we were living far away in Africa.
Zezinho passed away many years ago, but every Christmas, I remember him fondly. He was more than just a musician and a Hollywood star—he was a true friend. And I’ll never forget his favorite phrase: “Too much… Demais!”
Too much, indeed.
Palmarí H. de Lucena