Unique Voice in Southland Is Silenced

“Sancho is no longer on the air. . . . That is like saying there are no more tortillas.”

--A radio fan’s message on the Internet

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Sancho was much more than a guy who played music on the radio for the past 15 years. He was a voice--the voice--of a group of people who make up a large part of Southern California, but who are largely unseen and unheard in local media.

Sancho was Chicano, through and through. He was as Mexican as a mariachi and as American as the blues. He spoke slang in Spanglish, peppering his English with dashes of Spanish. His accent was true to the street, his attitude was pachuco cool, his message was upbeat.

And his music?

Oh, man, it was all over the map. Sancho spun rancheras and soul. He played Latin-rock and Tex-Mex, salsa and swing. He grooved to finger-popping oldies and boleros for dancing cheek-to-cheek.

If you ask him, he calls it an “LA sound.” If you ask me, I call it Chicano music that hit a chord with his bilingual listeners and soul mates from Santa Barbara to San Diego.

And now he’s gone, and so is his distinctive blend of barrio sounds. The Sancho Show, as unique on the air as each lowrider on the road, has been silenced by a sweeping shake-up in programming at KPCC-FM (89.3), the public radio station at Pasadena City College, in Sancho’s hometown and home to his show since 1984.

“This past Saturday night was unbelievably sad and empty without your voice and music,” wrote Hortensia, a listener who posted her regrets on the deejay’s World Wide Web page (https://www.sanchoshow.com). “Sancho, we need you back, to make us laugh, to make us study, to make us feel good about ourselves and give us the ganas (desire) to make it.”

Sorry, Hortensia, management ain’t listening. Sancho and the station’s stable of music programs with their loyal followings were replaced this week with stuff that’s already clogging our airways, news and talk. In other words: less music, more blah blah blah.

Personally, I enjoy the style of NPR broadcasters, from tweedy to yogurt-and-yoga. But judging by my son and his friends, teenagers can’t stand it. So you don’t need a survey to guess that the station’s going to lose the young audience Sancho made a point of addressing.

Sancho, 54, was the deejay with a doctorate. On the air, he may have sounded like a cholo, or street tough. But in real life, he is Daniel A. Castro, PhD, former coffee shop designer, prison reformer, one-time political candidate, teacher and now administrator at Mission College in Sylmar.

Sancho had a way of talking to Chicano kids on his Airwaves of Aztlan. And he had something important to say: Stay in school.

His slogan: No School, No Class!

“He offered advice, but it was never patronizing,” said Juan Gomez-Quinones, a Boyle Heights kid who became a professor of history at UCLA and a Sancho admirer. “It was like you were talking to somebody who cared about you. . . . And he bridged generations. In a way, he was doing a little bit of history work, in the sense that he was keeping memories alive and transmitting them to the youth.”

Gomez-Quinones is among dozens of people who signed a petition and posted messages on the Web site. Many were angry that Sancho didn’t get a chance to say goodbye before getting the ax. They called the move a big mistake, a slap in the face, an injustice, a babosada.

Station management acknowledges Sancho had a strong audience--as did other music shows that were canceled. Sancho was not singled out, General Manager Cindy Young said.

Many listeners just lament the demise of the LA Sound. Where can they go now to hear Thee Midnighters and Los Lobos, Eddie Cano and Flaco Jimenez, Canned Heat and Cannibal and the Headhunters? Who else offers this party mix served up with community spirit and pitches for scholarships in honor of Sancho’s son, Quetzalcoatl, killed in a car crash at age 8 just six months after the show first aired?

Sancho’s format resonated with people like Evelyn and Art Moncayo of Buena Park, die-hard Sancho fans in their 50s who signed the petition. They loved the Sancho mix of music and motivation, Art said last week.

“He provided reinforcement of who I am and where I come from,” said the school counselor, who was born in New Mexico and raised in Pico Rivera.

Sancho brought it all together for Chicanos. The time, the place, the memories, the hope for the future.

“The Sancho show was not just great music, but it was news,” e-mailed Linda, another heart-broken listener. “It was information. It was a talk show and more. It was inspiration. It was a role model. It was Pride. It was Positive. It was home.”

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Agustin Gurza’s column appears Tuesday. Readers can reach Gurza at (714) 966-7712 or [email protected]