Her Name Was Dolores Read online

  Shuffling in my chair, I kept checking my watch. Thirty minutes had gone by and nothing. By the time the clock struck 10:40 a.m., I was annoyed and bordering on angry. Forty minutes late? Talk about a bad first impression. I decided to call it a morning and leave; I had waited long enough. While I gathered my things and prepared to head out, the conference room door suddenly swung open and in stormed a woman like a hurricane, exuding a charm that I had rarely seen before. Thirty-three years old, forty minutes late, fake eyelashes and glue in one hand and a vanity mirror in the other, she apologized for keeping me waiting, sat at the head of the fancy conference table and, while balancing the spiky points of each lash on her sharp acrylic nails, a tiny tangle of swords that she maneuvered with precision, she cut to the chase and got down to business.

  She was such a force to be reckoned with that any anger at her for being late dissipated instantly. All I could think was, What the hell just walked into this room?! She didn’t even give me time to react. I had been ready to take off, but there was something about her, her strength and sweetness, the way she commanded the room with her presence yet didn’t gave a damn about what I or anyone else thought about her. Jenni had no qualms, no reservations; if she needed to get something done, she’d do it, regardless of the place or the circumstances, and that included wrapping up her makeup routine while holding a meeting with her possible future manager. I couldn’t leave now; my curiosity was piqued. Cool as a cucumber, but wild in the eyes … Who is this woman?

  Now, remember, back in those days, we weren’t used to Googling people and doing extensive online research before meeting prospective clients, so it was all about that first impression. That was the person’s one chance to pitch themselves and give it their all to land the deal. I had mixed emotions from the get-go. On one hand, I was completely taken aback, surprised, and intrigued by the situation, definitely not what I was expecting; on the other, I was chuckling at the whole scene in disbelief: Who does this? However, as she began to introduce herself, I quickly noticed she expressed herself clearly and eloquently, and man did she have charisma. That was the clincher right there. If I’ve learned anything in my many years in the music business is that no matter how hard you try, you can’t buy or learn how to be charismatic. You either have it or you don’t; it’s that simple. And Jenni had it by the truckloads. The minute she walked into the room, her charisma took over. Forty minutes late and instead of being upset, I was completely captivated by her persona, paying attention to her every word. Her confidence and charm instantly won me over. I was so impressed that instead of leaving, I perked up in my chair and honed in on what she had to say.

  After apologizing for being late, blaming it on the traffic and the long drive from Corona, where she lived at the time, she immediately opened up about her marital issues. I came to find out she was the mother of five and in the middle of her second divorce from a guy who had also been her manager. Jenni was honest and forthright, she explained how her soon-to-be-ex was blatantly trying to rob her, but she didn’t do so to garner pity. She wasn’t playing the victim. She was just laying it all on the table for me to get a better sense of who she was and where she was coming from. Right away Jenni felt like this force, a woman who showed more balls than many other men I’ve dealt with. She came across as determined to win, like some kind of brown Super Woman who would be nobody’s fool and was hell-bent on pushing forward as an artist and performer.

  Jenni continued her pitch and gave it to me straight. She was ready to take her career to the next level. She wanted to get out of the nightclubs and start playing major venues, she planned to release a cosmetics line, she hoped to do apparel, she spoke about getting into TV and radio, she dreamed about selling out the Gibson Amphitheater … she wanted to stop being known as Lupillo Rivera’s sister and finally come into her own as Jenni Rivera. She had a clear vision, she had ambition, she was ready to roll up her sleeves and do the work, and she knew that in order to accomplish her dreams and goals, she needed to assemble her own team, one that was solely dedicated to her career.

  There was an immediate fierceness about Jenni, a casual round-the-way-girl kind of swagger that at once commanded respect, but also made you feel like you were her blood. I vibed well with her from the start; we were both straight-shooters and ambitious dreamers determined to make our wishes a reality. I understood that she was in the throes of a life transition—personally, professionally, and creatively—and she needed someone to step in and be her sounding board and right-hand man. She knew she was on the brink of something big and needed help to get there.

  Meanwhile, I was coming off a successful run with Los Tucanes de Tijuana, a popular Mexican Regional group. As a successful business manager, I had catapulted them into major sponsorships with Coors and had landed them a deal at a major record label. They were booming, at the height of their success, and I felt that I had hit the roof with them, so it was time to move on.

  Early on, I dove into the Latin market when I noticed it was in dire need of professional business managers. Back in the day, most managers were usually compadres, friends of the artists who were winging it and going along for the ride, but they didn’t understand the U.S. market because they hadn’t been educated here. So that was my opening. I found my niche. I had a business degree under my belt, knew the local and national business laws, and I understood the gringos. It was a match made in heaven. Prior to Los Tucanes de Tijuana, I had the chance to work with the likes of Juan Gabriel and Joan Sebastián. By the time I met Jenni, my résumé was on point and impressive, and she knew it. Jenni had heard about my success with other great artists, and she was hopeful that I would be able to do something with her too. She was ready and so was I.

  From the moment I met her, I felt her bigger-than-life presence, and I knew in my gut that we would create something phenomenal together. And we did. We made everything she mentioned in that meeting a reality throughout her career. From the beginning, she told me the end. I was in the presence of the future Diva, la Gran Señora, the star, but that day I also met Jenni the woman, the hustler, the person who was going to provide for her family no matter what it took, filled with ambition and dreams for a better life for her loved ones.

  She had a vision, and I experienced firsthand the blood, sweat, and tears that she shed along the way to make it become a reality. Never would I have imagined, on that first day, how far we would come. Number one hits, international tours, countless career milestones, love, heartbreak, danger, betrayal, and ultimately death. A telenovela has nothing on Jenni’s life because her story was real, not fiction. And even when she took one too many punches and was down for the count, she managed to rise to the occasion, making barrels of lemonade out of all the sour lemons thrown her way. She was everyone’s team captain, she kept the boat afloat and on course; she was our leader, our inspiration, and our friend.

  Yet, in all honesty, at first I had my doubts. I wasn’t sure if a woman who arrived forty minutes late to such an important meeting was up to the task. Was she really ready to take this seriously enough to push her career to the next level? I was somewhat skeptical, but also intrigued. She commanded that room like a pro, had clear goals, and had major cojones. This was no damsel in distress, she didn’t need saving, she knew exactly where she wanted to go and how she planned to get there, and she was ready to work elbow-to-elbow to get the job done. But she was smart enough to also realize she couldn’t do it all alone. She needed a team, and that’s where I came in; Jenni knew that I could help her. She was a diamond in the rough, a butterfly in the making, and she knew she had what it takes to make it. After her pitch, I believed her, I was sold.

  “Are you down with me? Are you on board?” she asked after wrapping up her intro and pitch.

  “Yeah,” I replied, without hesitation, “let’s do it.”

  “Good, let’s get to work.”

  Chapter 2

  Becoming Perfectly Imperfect

  The next meeting I had with Jen was at th
e recording studio. She had asked me to swing by to listen to her latest album, Homenaje a las grandes, which was being mastered and prepped for release. We sat down and ran through the songs. It was the first time I heard Jenni sing. I honestly wasn’t impressed by her voice. Her lower register hadn’t developed yet, so it was a bit thin and tinny, but I knew that was something she could refine and smooth out with time, so I paid attention to the tunes themselves, the song choices, the message she was sending with this album.

  As her new manager, I had to get to know Jenni before moving forward. I had to analyze her as an artist, assessing the pros and cons in her career and what she had to offer. I already knew, from the get-go, that one of Jenni’s unique qualities was her dualities and how naturally she navigated these opposing waters. She was a mom, but at the same time, more like a dad. She was a guy’s girl, at once feminine and tough, and both aggressive and forgiving. Jen could be elegant, but she could be hood to the bone. She was rooted in her Mexican-ness, but unequivocally American. The Mexican-American artists on the scene usually focused on the U.S. side of the border, but I knew that Jenni had the potential to cater to audiences on both sides. Jenni was fluent not only in both languages, but in both cultures. She got what it meant to be American, and she also knew what it was to be Mexican, so our main challenge was figuring out how she could speak to both audiences. I quickly realized that for her to make this happen, she first had to find her voice. It was somewhat of a no-brainer: that was the missing piece of this puzzle, that’s all we needed to complete her crossover and transform her into an instant outright success.

  With Homenaje a las grandes, I could tell Jenni was already beginning to let her personality shine through in her music career, not in the songs themselves, but in the album cover. She had ditched the cowboy hat and embraced her Chicana vibe, going for a less traditional image, one that better reflected who she was, with a simple white shirt and silver hoop earrings. Now she needed to do the same with her song choices.

  I listened to the songs carefully, but there was no real Jenni Rivera in any of them. It was basically a cover album, somewhat like a highly produced karaoke record. There was no clear sense of direction, and she wasn’t putting herself out there and giving the audience a piece of the real Jenni, but the album was only weeks from being released, so there was nothing to be done now. As I listened, I said, “Wow, that’s great, it’s great,” because I didn’t want to dishearten her, but now I knew what we had to tackle first. It’s not that she couldn’t sing covers of other people’s songs, but she needed to bring it to another level, she needed to put her stamp on them, she needed to own them to the point where people thought those songs were actually hers, and she needed to let that open, transparent, no-holds-barred personality of hers shine through her music. The time had come for her to discover and communicate who she really was; that was what would ultimately create that special bond with her fans, which would be forged through life and even survive her death.

  After hearing the last song, I couldn’t hold back any longer and just gave it to her straight. That was the beauty of our relationship from the start: there were no secrets, and because of this, that sense of bonding between us only grew stronger with time. So, I was up front and just put it out there, “Hey, Jen, so the music sounds great, but I think you need to start defining who you are. You need to decide what path you want to take and what you want to say to your audience because there’s no real message here. You’re just taking a bunch of songs you like and putting them together in an album.” She listened attentively. I told her I wanted her to do her homework for the next album. I wanted her to search for the meaning behind the songs, to see what resonated with her, what rung true to her soul. I needed her to connect with the songs on a much more guttural level in order to make them her own. I also asked her to think about what message she wanted to give her fans; that was also a crucial decision, one that she could then clearly portray through her music, both with her future song selections and eventually her own songs. The time had come for Jenni to open up, get in touch with her roots, and sing her story straight from her heart.

  For me to help her in this journey to discover her own uniqueness and define the artist she could be, I had to get to know more of her backstory, and that’s how Jenni Rivera the hustler, the mother, the provider was slowly revealed before my eyes.

  Jenni Rivera was born in Los Angeles on July 2, 1969, to her Mexican parents Pedro and Rosa Rivera. Her brother Gustavo had been born a year earlier, and she was later followed by Lupillo, Pedro, Juan, and Rosie. I was privy to the inner workings of the Rivera family for more than a decade and can say they are quite a unique bunch. Don Pedro and Rosa were both musicians, obligated to cast aside those dreams to fulfill their traditional obligations. Rosa followed protocol: she got married, had kids, and instead of becoming a cantante, she took on the role of mother and housewife. Don Pedro set aside his personal dreams as a singer and entertainer to comply with the obligations as husband, father, and family provider. They crossed the border and established themselves in California to pursue their American Dream, both of them rolling up their sleeves to work as hard as needed to give their children a better life, while also making sure they were actively involved in music from a young age, likely hoping to someday live out their musical dreams vicariously through them.

  As with many large families, the children were constantly competing for their parents’ attention, but they had a competitiveness among them like I’d never seen before, both a blessing and a burden in their lives. It’s all good when you’re in the spotlight, but it sure isn’t easy when your life unfolds in the shadows of that light. Jen had the chance to be on both sides of this coin, so she knew all this too well, and hopped to it from a young age.

  Jenni knew that the way to her dad’s heart was through music. That was her “in,” that was the way she would capture his attention and stand out among her siblings. So as a young girl, when she started singing, Don Pedro perked up his ears and immediately felt this was his chance to turn her into a star. He drove her to different talent contests to perform onstage, hoping that someone might discover his little reina. But at one of these shows, when Jenni was eleven, the unthinkable happened: she walked on stage, ready to compete, yet when the music started playing, her mind drew a complete blank. Nothing, nada, zilch, silence. She not only forgot the lyrics, she forgot the lyrics to a song she knew like the back of her hand, she forgot the lyrics to a song that years later would become one of her number one radio hits, “Besos y copas.”

  Jenni ran off stage, in disbelief of what had just happened to her. She was devastated, to say the least, and the drive home proved to be pure torture. Don Pedro scolded her nonstop—how could she have forgotten the lyrics to a song she knew so well! … he’d taught her better than that … what she had done up there was totally unprofessional and inexcusable, she should’ve known better—going on and on about what in Jenni’s short eleven years of life had been the most humiliating moment ever. She stared out the window as she heard her father’s raging flood of harsh words, and tears welled up in those big brown eyes as she took the verbal beating. It wasn’t the humiliation of the experience that upset her, but rather her father’s disappointment in her. All she wanted was to make him happy and proud. The whole point of participating in these singing competitions was to spend time with him and enjoy his undivided attention. Music was supposed to bring them together, so when she felt she had failed him and noticed it was having the opposite effect on their relationship, she simply up and quit. Jenni turned to her dad right then and there and vowed to never sing on any stage ever again. The tears rolled down her cheeks freely now. She’d had enough. Little did she know that, twelve years later, the tide would turn, and she would be grabbing the mic once again, embarking on what would be the start of her passion and career for the rest of her life.

  But back then her mind had been made up. She shelved her musical inclinations and moved on with her budding adolesce
nce. However, only four years later, in 1984, after Jen turned fifteen, the unthinkable happened: she got pregnant. By 1985 she had moved out of her house, was living with her husband José Trinidad Marín, aka Trino, and was giving birth to her first daughter, Chiquis. She was only sixteen. Meanwhile, her relationship quickly took an abusive turn. Aside from putting her down verbally, Trino started beating her, yet Jen wasn’t about to take that lying down. She was a fighter, and she knew how to throw a punch. She had grown up with four brothers and learned at a young age how to defend herself. So when Trino went at her, she hit him right back. It was not pretty, but Jen was young and she didn’t know any better.

  What she thought was the final straw came in 1989 when Trino started beating her while she was five months pregnant with her second child, Jacqie. That night she grabbed Chiquis and left him. She asked her brother Gus if she could rent out his garage, and that’s where they settled in for the next few months. Those were harrowing times for Jen, one of those low points she never forgot no matter how successful she became later. Not only was she pregnant and living in a garage with her four-year-old daughter, but her car was stolen right before her eyes, and her insurance didn’t cover theft, so now she was wheel-less in a city whose distances require a car. She had no choice but to bite the bullet and buy a bicycle—there was no way she could afford another car under those circumstances. So her ten-speed bike was her new means of transportation. She’d wake up bright and early every morning, bike Chiquis to daycare, then ride to work. Jen was a survivor, so she learned to make due with whatever she had at hand. Finally, Don Pedro found out about her situation and asked her to move back home before she had her second daughter and, although Jen was incredibly proud, she accepted. She knew it would be in Chiquis’s best interest to live in a normal home and close to her beloved aunt Rosie.