4The animated performances of New Jersey’s 16 ranchos folclóricos have also been conditioned by post 1965 US immigration policy and the ideology of US multiculturalism. As a result of legislation such as the 1965 repeal of the National Origins Quota Act, the passage of the 1974 Ethnic Heritage Act and the general valorization of post civil rights era multiculturalism, the United States has witnessed a proliferation of “ethnic celebrations, a zeal for genealogy, increased travel to ancestral homelands, and greater interest in ethnic artifacts, cuisine, music, literature and, of course, language” (Halter 2000: 5). Rancho dancing participates in this trend, revealing New Jersey’s Portuguese population as “exotics at home, hidden in plain sight” (Leonardo 1998). These performing “exotics” not only reflect US and Portuguese federal level policy, but more importantly for the purposes of this paper, participate in localized strategies for celebrating difference and fostering inter-ethnic harmony in Northern New Jersey.

5According to the 2000 US Census, New Jersey is home to roughly 72,000 Luso-Americans, with the majority of this population concentrated in Newark and surrounding towns such as Kearny, Elizabeth, Union, Harrison and Bellville. In a recent study of Portuguese influence on American society, Newark is listed as one of nine US cities with the greatest density of Luso-Americans relative to the rest of the population (Vicente 1999: 70). As such, Newark’s Portuguese immigrant community is an important swathe in the rainbow of ethnic groups that populate the city. Through the celebration of its ethnic neighborhoods and the expressive traditions kept alive there, the city has pinned much of its hopes for urban revitalization on the “marketing of ethnic heritage,” a late twentieth-century phenomenon anthropologists theorize as constitutive of American modernity (Leonardo 1998, Halter 2000).

7This paper examines the role of folklore performance in the renovation of stigmatized people and places. Foregrounding Newark’s reputation as a “pariah city” (McNeil, Fitzsimons, and Murtagh 1995), this essay examines the ways in which arts development – from the large-scale New Jersey Performing Arts Center to the Portugal Day Parade – contributes to the city’s narrative of renaissance. Portuguese folklore performance participates in Newark’s narrative of rebirth giving credence to the claim that a new peaceability exists among Newark’s diverse residents, allowing for the healthy proliferation of multicultural traditions. This paper also examines the role of folklore performance in renovating “pariah citizens.” Once seen as traitors to their homeland, Luso-American immigrants in New Jersey today bolster social standing both in the US and in Portugal by manifesting their knowledge of native traditions through performance. Making visible a “double duty” to both sending and receiving contexts, folklore performers battle the negative stigma conferred to the figure of the “emigrante,” by participating in public celebrations of ethnic pride and Luso-American political enfranchisement.

Once a pariah city: Newark’s rebirth and the performance of ethnic difference

11Newark’s riots, among the most severe of the period, devastated the city’s social fabric, economic base and material infrastructure. Until recently, Newark’s process of recovery has been slow and inefficient due to political corruption, faulty urban planning, and the persistence of socio-economic problems which had sparked the riots in the first place. Not only has Newark fought the social and material scars left by 1967’s bloody events, but it has also battled a widespread reputation common to many post-industrial urban areas regarded as “pariah cities” (McNeil, Fitzsimons, and Murtagh 1995). Within regional and national parlance, Newark has been labeled “the car-jacking capital of the US,” “the armpit of the east” and the nation’s “most unhealthy city” (Galishoff 1988), among other unflattering monikers.

12In recent years, however, Newark has begun to transform itself, attempting to turn a history of racial strife into a platform for image-overhaul, where tropes of peaceability between diverse ethnic groups form the foundation of a new post-riot identity. Diversity is a buzzword which dominates the discourse of Newark’s governmental, educational and cultural institutions. In his “Welcome Statement” on the city’s web page, Mayor Sharpe James describes Newark’s demographic heterogeneity as the key to the city’s post-riot recovery. He states, “Our greatest strength lies not in bricks and mortar, but in our rainbow of peoples and cultures whose diversity and energy have fueled our rebirth and growth. Sample our restaurants, visit our culture attractions, meet our diverse people” (James 2004). This emphasis on the socio-cultural riches born from heterogeneity extends to the institutions of higher learning in Newark’s University Heights neighborhood. Rutgers University-Newark, for example, has been voted most diverse US campus seven years in a row according to the US News and World Report, a title proudly announced at official Rutgers gatherings and displayed in countless admissions brochures, university websites and on banners decorating administrative buildings.

14Part of NJPAC’s success is attributable to the delicate balance achieved in its cultural programming. NJPAC highlights the diverse communities resident in Newark and the surrounding areas by organizing events which relate directly to the myriad cultures which populate the city. Past seasons have included West African drumming, Asian martial arts performances, Cuban popular dance, Kwanza and Chinese New Year celebrations, African-American hip hop, salsa, Brazilian samba and Portuguese fado. This wide-ranging selection of cultural fare not only reflects a desire to represent Newark’s diverse inhabitants, but also to attract these populations into the concert halls. Other Newark arts organizations employ a similar strategy. Aljira Center for Contemporary Art, for example, recently unveiled an exhibit entitled “The Crystal Land Revisited: New Art in New Jersey” featuring up and coming artists, all residents in New Jersey representing a rainbow of ethnicities. The press release for this exhibit describes Newark’s diversity as key to its value as a locus of innovative artistic production. Curator Raul Zamudio states, “New Jersey is not simply a place west of New York City, but its own destination rich with inspiration for artistic expression” (Aljira 2004). Isabel Nazario, the driving force behind Transcultural New Jersey, a statewide initiative tied to the exhibit, states, “The goals of Transcultural New Jersey are to showcase our state’s rich diverse cultural communities and in so doing, gain insight into our diverse populations. The show at Aljira masterfully achieves them” (Aljira 2004).

16In the cases above, artistic production is employed as a catalyst for new post-riot sociability between the diverse inhabitants of the city. Art and performance become the conciliatory means for healing old wounds. The cheerful white and lavender flags which adorn Military Park lampposts articulate this message in iconographic form. Two women, one white and one African-American, share tea and company at a scrolled iron table while the city’s slogan, “Meet and Greet,” looms large over their amiable interaction.

17NJPAC is the most visible example of Newark’s attempt at social healing and economic recovery through the vehicle of arts development. However, other smaller arts organizations, ethnic parades and concert series also contribute to the growing arts scene in Newark and its celebration of multiculturalism. The largest of these initiatives, the annual Portugal Day parade, has attracted over half a million people to the streets of Newark’s East Ward in recent years, and the parade’s vibrant display of ranchos folclóricos figures prominently in Newark’s arts-driven revival. The parade, first organized by Ironbound businessman Bernardino Coutinho in 1980 as an attempt to unify and animate the Portuguese community, has always placed special focus on the role of ranchos folclóricos as an expression of immigrant identity, entrepreneurship and commercial success. Early in the festival’s development when audiences numbered a cozy 20,000 people, ranchos would perform the songs and dances of a particular Portuguese region alongside groups of immigrants from the same town carrying municipal flags in a performative cartography of migratory provenance (Santos 2004). As the Portugal Day parade evolved from a “local event to an international event” (Coutinho 2002), the municipal flags disappeared as the programming cast a wider net, including not only ranchos flown in from Portugal and an increasing number of New Jersey troupes, but also jazz musicians, African-American step groups and marching bands from Newark’s South and Central Ward high schools. What was once a provincial festival oriented toward the specificity of originary sending contexts, expanded to include the expressive traditions of the adopted homeland in a ritual dramatization of immigrant incorporation.

18The fact that Portuguese folklore has thrived in Newark in tandem with Luso-American commercial success and political empowerment serves as a testament to Newark’s post-riot transformation. Ranchos forward an image of Newark as a city that welcomes diversity and encourages its varied immigrant groups to maintain autochthonous traditions within Northern New Jersey’s hearty regional embrace. Portuguese folklore troupes help legitimate Newark’s claim to have put racial and ethnic animosity to rest du-ring its new phase of cultural awakening. The organizers of the annual Portugal Day parade underscore the cooperation and support of Newark’s municipal government. Alberto Coutinho, son of the parade’s founder, states,

Without a shadow of a doubt, the city of Newark, both with Mayor Gibson’s administration and Mayor James’ administration, they’ve always been tremendously supportive of the Portugal Day Festival... The annual operating budget is approximately $600,000, but of note is that about $350-$375,000 of that was services in kind provided by the city of Newark... We could not speak more firmly, that if it wasn’t for the city of Newark, we would not be able to have the Portugal Day Parade” (Coutinho 2002).

19According to Coutinho, the festival is not only an opportunity to unify the Portuguese immigrant community and form coalitions with municipal leaders, it is also a forum for demonstrating the ability of the Portuguese community to integrate into American society. Responding to the often repeated critique by some ethnic insiders that the Portugal Day parade has become too inclusive to the detriment of authentic Portuguese traditions such as ranchos folclóricos which are drowned out by other performances of non-Portuguese culture, Alberto Coutinho argues,

As far as some people say, “oh well, you know, its only supposed to Portuguese,” I think they’re in the wrong country. They have no idea what being a real American is all about. A real American is being happy about who you are and respecting the rights of others […] the rights of anybody to participate. Yes, we want it to be authentically Portuguese because that is the major reason for our success... [but] the goal of the [festival organizers] is to integrate the Portuguese community into American society, and to do that American society has to accept us. So obviously the large presence of non-Portuguese at the festival is a sign that the Portuguese have been accepted. People are comfortable with us being here. It’s not like they want to kick us out. They want to be a part of us, to celebrate with us... we need to have open arms to all ethnic groups (Coutinho 2002).

20The debate to which Coutinho alludes over who should participate in the parade, underscores larger tensions concerning assimilation and the dissolution of the tight-knit Ironbound enclave. Coutinho’s ideas of balancing “authentic” display of Portuguese culture through rancho performance on the one hand, and the open embrace of Newark’s diversity on the other, is in full accordance with the multicultural “rebirth” discourse proffered by the municipal government and large-scale arts organizations.

21Luso-American culture is key to Newark’s renaissance narrative in part because Portuguese immigration to the city has accompanied Newark’s period of social unrest and post-riot recovery. Although Portuguese emigrants began arriving in New Jersey in the mid nineteenth century, Newark’s current Portuguese community is largely the product of Portugal’s “third wave” migration dating from 1960-80 (see Fig. 2 and Table 1).

Once pariah citizens: folklore performance challenges emigrant stereotypes

24In February 2001, the highbrow Portuguese newspaper, Expresso, ran a front-page article in its Vidas magazine recounting the tale of Newark’s Luso American Sheriff and his trouble with gangsters. Armando Fontoura’s large toothy grin seems to jump off the page as the article begins:

It is ironic that Armando Fontoura speaks at times like the gangsters he so dislikes. “So,” Fontoura says, “I called the Newark mayor and asked him, “What kind of shit are you up to? We catch them shooting people, exploding cars, beating up people. Mafia land, is that how you want Newark to be known? It’s crazy! It’s fuckin’ crazy!” (Jenkins 2001)

25The article goes on to explore Sheriff Fontoura’s image management problem: he is trying to prohibit the producers of HBO’s hit series “The Sopranos” from filming in Newark, fearing that it will exacerbate the city’s historic reputation as a crime-ridden locus of corruption and violence. This overt crisis of representation, however, is complemented throughout the article by subtextual reference to an image-management problem of a different sort: Armando Fontoura’s depiction as a foul-mouthed, rough and tumble emigrante, a portrayal, incidentally, bearing little resemblance to his real-life personae. In drawing the comparison between Armando Fontoura, Portuguese-American Sheriff, and Tony Soprano, Italian-American gangster, the article invokes Portugal’s long history of emigrant stereotyping. The article’s depiction of Newark as a “pariah city” and Sheriff Fontoura as an uncultured emigrante – a “pariah citizen” – is mitigated by the parallel narrative describing Portuguese-Americans’ rise to political prominence within the state of New Jersey. In this complex journalistic mix designed to inform an elite Portuguese readership of the curious ways in which errant countrymen have adapted to new national contexts across the Atlantic, several vectors of analysis emerge which have come to ground my study of Luso-American folklore performance: expressive pride, social prejudice and political power.

27In a robust class discussion with Luso-American student interviewers involved in the IOHP, the topic of emigrant stereotyping provoked the sharing of personal stories. According to these first and second-generation students, the experience of returning to Portugal is often colored by the reputation that precedes them. They report tensions surrounding the emigrant’s hybrid identity and charges of betrayal and weakness. Angelo Cação, a student born in central Portugal, describes neighbors in his native village who accuse Portuguese-Americans of taking the easy way out. “They think all we care about is money. That we ditched our culture,” he says. According to this argument, those who stayed in Portugal deserve respect for “doing the right thing” and not abandoning the country when times were tough. Luso-American students such as Sandy Pinto and Gabriella Pereira report gentle teasing by Portuguese cousins who mock their American hairstyles, clothing and accents. “They know immediately que somos americanos – by the way we look and talk,” Gabriella says. Such interactions build on archetypal figures of the “brasileiro” prevalent in the nineteenth century and the “francês” in the twentieth. The portrayal of these figures, circulated in literature, anedotas and other expressions of the social imaginary, refer to rural laborers who left Portugal in pursuit of socio-economic mobility denied to them at home. After striking it rich elsewhere, the archetypal emigrante returns to Portugal in a dramatic display of conspicuous consumption, building retirement houses of dubious aesthetic integrity in native villages, periodically hosting overseas children and grandchildren who are criticized by neighbors for speaking pidgin Portuguese and behaving strangely.

28Some Portuguese-Americans challenge this symbolic baggage by disavowing the very term “emigrante.” In the Ironbound and throughout the editorial pages of emigrant newspapers, it is not uncommon to see older Portuguese men bristle at the term. One Ironbound man, Alfredo, a retired construction worker who never sought US citizenship told me that he refused to accept that label, preferring instead to be called a Portuguese citizen living abroad. Behind this rhetorical maneuver lies a distancing strategy which foregrounds an attachment to Portugal, disavowing any permanent dislocation or reattachment to other national contexts. New Jersey’s folklore performance troupes, although also wrapped up in the pursuit of social prestige and the confrontation of negative stereotyping, do not generally participate in a rejection of their adopted homeland. According to many immigrant rancho members, performing folklore does double duty, helping to mitigate the emigrante stereotype while boosting their status both within the Luso-American community and in Portugal. As one dancer explained,

We are not rude people who went away only to make money, as most people might think; we are able to cultivate forms of traditional music and dance even better than ranchos in Portugal. Ranchos folclóricos are evidence that migrants have culture” (quoted in Carvalho 1990).

29Rancho dancing also carries social weight within the smaller circles of Newark’s emigrant community. Parents who arrange for their children to join a rancho are seen as responsible caregivers who go out of their way to promote children’s physical safety and cultural education (see Fig. 3 and Fig. 4). In addition to serving as a vehicle for the public surveillance of children’s courtship habits, rancho dancing also encourages endogamous pairing among second generation dancers and insures exposure to conservative values such as the respect for authority and the maintenance of traditional gender roles (Holton 2004, Carvalho 1990). Generally, parents whose children dance folklore receive positive reinforcement from the community, as they contribute to the preservation of Portuguese culture and the expression of ethnic identity while raising their kids responsibly. Daisy Currais, a second generation Ironbound resident whose parents both danced in ranchos, explained that her “mother got a lot of shit from other mothers” for not forcing her daughters to dance folklore and allowing them to leave the Ironbound for high school and college (Currais 2004). She states:

We were rebellious teenagers. We refused. No, actually, I remember when we were little asking Mom why she never [forced us to join]. Cause all of our friends were forced into rancho. Like their Moms and Dads were like, “You must dance rancho. You must be part of this Portuguese thing.” And [my] Mom and Dad met in a rancho! When they were teenagers, that’s all they knew […]. I think people who dance rancho now are forced, almost like “it will keep you off the streets. Dance rancho” (Currais 2004).

30According to other second-generation teenagers, dancing folklore was a pleasurable activity and a physical outlet – akin to playing team sports. Brian Santos describes how rancho membership raised his social standing within a NJ public high school. Brian, a member of the rancho Sonhos de Portugal recalls a performance that took place in Kearny, New Jersey.

My friends in high school were always really interested in it. There’s an international festival every year at the high school and when I was a student there, we performed. Basically, it is one day dedicated to all the different cultures represented in the school, and there are different performances from different cultures and the Portuguese is always one of the most popular. We always got standing ovations, everyone always loved it, the teachers, the students, they would always call us on stage and ask us lots of questions” (Santos 2002).

31Brian’s testimony shows the effects of the 1974 Ethnic Heritage Act which encourages multicultural celebration, even at the high school level and where, particularly in a diverse region like Northern New Jersey, children of emigrants raise their social capital by performing ethnic difference in a public context. Brian explains that, contrary to some of the kids in Portugal who get teased by their peers for performing in ranchos, dancing folklore is seen as “cool” by many of his NJ friends, Portuguese and non-Portuguese alike. His family is also very supportive of his participation in folklore because “It shows that I am involved in our culture” (Santos 2002). Brian, then, receives concentric circles of social kudos by dancing folklore starting with the most intimate social context, that of the nuclear family, radiating out into larger rings of friends, neighbors, classmates, teachers and administrators. Brian even articulates the stature of his rancho within a national framework,

We actually are considered professionals, we’re in the Hudson County Book of Professional Entertainers, so anyone who is looking for a certain musical group can find us there. You know we’re also in the Library of Congress, in Washington DC. We’re documented in there! (Santos 2002)

32Rancho director Tony Cardoso echoes this story of broad recognition and visibility.

We’ve danced at the Statue of Liberty… we were even invited to perform at Giants Stadium… We’ve also been on… the American FOX channel, you know FOX 5… it was really something for the kids to be on a major channel, to be on national TV (Cardoso 2003).

33Santos and Cardoso both evaluate social prestige according to the increasingly national scope of exposure in the US. Other folklore performers, however, describe a transnational measuring stick for assessing status. Joseph Cerqueira, co-founder of the Rancho Barcuense and accordionist for Sonhos de Portugal, describes the implicit comparison to groups in Portugal as key to evaluating New Jersey ranchos.

In order to be good in the US, we have to be better than the ranchos in Portugal. It’s a bigger world here. We practice harder, take our rehearsals more seriously. In Portugal, there are so many groups, they have the luxury of being casual. [In New Jersey] we have more exacting standards because there are only 10-12 groups. We have to represent ourselves, our [New Jersey] community and our native country. The governor invited us to his house. How many Portuguese ranchos can say that? (Cerqueira 2002)

34The fact that Cerqueira measures his group’s value comparatively – not so much in relation to other ranchos in New Jersey, but in relation to ranchos in Portugal – signals the way in which both the US and Portuguese contexts participate in an evaluation of social prestige and artistic worth. Akin to what has been called “defensive nationalism” (Ramsamy 2004), ranchos articulate ethnic identity in the US as both an affirmative response to Newark’s multicultural reinvention and a defensive response to negative portrayals of emigrants as uncultured laborers who “ditched” native traditions in pursuit of foreign salaries and material wealth.

Epilogue: folklore performance and political enfranchisement

35In New Jersey, rancho performance has been a consistent presence at celebrations of Luso-Americans’ rise to political power. There has been much ink spilled in attempt to document and theorize the historic lack of political participation among the Portuguese in the United States (Almeida 1999, Barrow 2002, Marinho and Cornwall 1992, Moniz 1979). Casual debates on the topic often arrive at the same conclusion; voting is not part of the Portuguese culture due to the fascist government which stifled political agency from 1926-74. However, as Onésimo Almeida (1999) rightly points out, lack of political participation throughout Portuguese emigrant communities predates the installation of the Estado Novo. As recently as 1996, the authors of a proposed documentary entitled “Newark’s Silent Majority: Citizens Without a Voice” describe the situation in the Ironbound:

More than fifty years ago they started coming, drawn by the hope of a promising future in a bountiful country. Today they find themselves possessing the material things the country offered, but missing the joy and power of a people who govern themselves. Newark’s Portuguese-Americans don’t vote […] They have turned the Ironbound into an inner city paradise, but have never elected one of their own to the City Council. And they are bitter about it. The Ironbound is a dumping ground and its people whipping boys for cynical politicians who revel in Luso-American political impotence, never failing to ignore it (Lancellotti and Gardner, quoted in Almeida 1999).

36Lancellotti and Gardner’s depiction of Newark’s Portuguese in 1996, however, no longer reflects the reality of the community in 2004. In November 1998, Augusto Amador became the first Portuguese-American councilman elected to office in the history of Newark. In May 2002 with the election of Governor James McGreevey, Dina Matos McGreevy, a Portuguese-American activist, became New Jersey’s First Lady. In November 2004, as Richard Cody took office as acting New Jersey Governor, Luso-American Sheriff Armando Fontoura was named as one of Cody’s three most trusted advisors (Golway 2004). The Portuguese government even recognized this change during a 2003 “Seminar on Participation and Citizenship” in Lisbon, citing the increase in Luso-Americans elected to office as a model upswing in civic engagement (Luso-Americano 2003).

38The final celebration of Portugal Day at the Governor’s mansion on June 6^th 2004 featured performances by Newark’s Rancho Folclórico A Eira as well as fado performances by local Luso-American musicians. The event’s grande finale, however, was reserved for a rancho folclórico that had flown in from Portugal. As the emcee made clear, this troupe, the Grupo Folclórico e Etnográfico da Vimieira, had been chosen in honor of First Lady Dina Matos McGreevey whose family had emigrated from the Vimieira region. After twenty minutes of performance and a round of hearty applause, the troupe’s director approached the microphone with a basketful of gifts. Dina Matos McGreevey left her perch beside political dignitaries and uniformed members of the Portuguese American Police Association to receive the gifts – municipal flags, a brass plaque, local delicacies – mementos from her originary home across the sea. Dressed in peasant garb, the rancho director beamed at the audience, relating stories of Mrs. McGreevey’s largesse in donating funds for public works projects in the Vimieira region. “We are so proud of Dina,” the rancho director said within a “hometown girl makes good” narrative, as the elegant First Lady bowed her head to receive the compliment, giving the rancho performer heartfelt beijinhos. The visit of the Portuguese rancho was a homecoming of sorts – the symbolic integration of local Portuguese origins and new immigrant horizons, brokered and enacted by thirty adults and children performing the songs and dances of nineteenth-century peasants.

39Bernardino Coutinho, owner of a chain of NJ bakeries and founder of Newark’s Portugal Day parade, closed the ceremony with an impassioned speech. Consistent with the rhetoric of the Portuguese government, Coutinho urged the Luso-American public to commit to their lives in New Jersey by voting and participating in the Luso-American voluntary organizations. In my field notes, I recorded a portion of his words,

Coutinho said, “Forget about building those retirement houses in Portugal! Our lives should be lived here. Look around you. We have been welcomed into the home of the governor of the state of New Jersey. Governor McGreevey and our First Lady Dina have opened up their home to us. They have fed us and entertained us and made us feel that their house is our house. Let’s face it, we’re treated better here than in Portugal. We have to continue investing in our community and we will continue to be rewarded […] like this,” he says with his arms outstretched toward the elegant grounds. Off in the distance, the Portuguese flag flies alongside the American.

40In his statement, Coutinho argues implicitly for the continued rehabilitation of the “pariah citizen.” The key to rehabilitation, according to his speech, is through community activism and political participation. By balancing “dreams of Portugal” with US action and engagement, Luso-Americans can leave a mark on their adopted homelands, perhaps even participate in the decision making machinery of state and local government – achievements, Coutinho implies, nearly impossible to imagine within the rigid hierarchies of Portuguese society where, he argues, emigrants are “poorly treated.” Committing to the US, not through deracinated performances of total assimilation, but through the expression of ethnic identity within local contexts of difference, allows the Portuguese community of Newark to participate in the city’s cultural “comeback” (Grogan and Proscio 2001), while treading a path toward political empowerment and social recognition.