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7 Alliances and Limits The SBAT and the Rise of the Entertainment Class In Na roda do samba, Vagalume made two predictions—one apocryphal, the other right on the money.The first had to do with instruments. “There is no doubt,” the journalist wrote, that Tio Faustino’s omelê “will soon be an obligatory instrument in every center where samba is cultivated.” By contrast, the cuíca would soon fall into disuse, he said. He could not have been more wrong with this prediction. The cuíca became (and remains) a ubiquitous presence in samba and at Carnival, whereas the omelê fell into obscurity. But Vagalume’s second pronouncement was more prescient. “Very soon,” he suggested, “the authors of other people’s works will come around . . . earning rivers of gold.” In Rio, he continued, “Wise guys there are a-­plenty, and suckers, too.What’s missing are police.”1 Indeed, as cash flowed—and as musicians gained greater visibility but few means with which to protect their authorship or collective financial interests—artists turned to an unlikely source for help: the police. This chapter explains how and why this surprising turn came to pass. In 1930, a month after seizing control of the country in a bloodless coup, Getúlio Vargas was greeted at the presidential palace by a large gathering of musicians. Shouts of “Viva Vargas!” punctuated the national anthem, played by several military bands. The musicians marched from downtown, winding their way through the adjacent neighborhood of Catete and eventually to the presidential residence. Vargas and his wife, Darcy, appeared on their balcony to greet the procession. After the anthem was played, Brazil’s new leader moved inside to receive a seven-­ person commission that included Donga and Pixinguinha. Face-­ to-­ face 170 Chapter Seven with the president, the group handed over a memorial that lauded Vargas, elucidated their concerns, and laid out a three-­point plan to improve their “precarious” and “distressed” state. The marche aux flambeaux, or torchlight march, as the nighttime procession was called, represented the hope for state support in hard times. In looking to Vargas for assistance, the musicians were by no means alone. A week earlier, a group of unemployed workers had gathered in front of the palace to ask the new president for help.2 During his two stints as head of state (1930–45, 1951–54), Vargas came to be known by some as “Father of the Poor.”3 Throughout Latin America, the worldwide economic depression helped usher in an era in which states were made increasingly responsible, at least in theory, for the well-­ being of their citizens. Spurred by Mexico’s 1910 revolution and then by the fall of export-­oriented economies that plunged along with international prices, nations throughout the region sought new paths to wealth and stability. A wave of populist leaders, Vargas included, initiated state-­ led projects of industrialization and embraced rhetoric suggesting that the exclusion of vast sectors of the population would be reversed. The musicians who gathered in Catete had special reason to think that Vargas would be sympathetic to their cause. Two years earlier, as a representative from Rio Grande do Sul he sponsored what became known as the Lei (Law) Getúlio Vargas, a piece of legislation meant to protect author’s rights. In 1930, he again played the part of advocate, assuring Donga, Pixinguinha, and the others that he “would carefully study” their concerns “in good faith” and with the hope of satisfying their wishes.4 The marchers presented themselves and were depicted as a unified class, one that crossed racial and socioeconomic lines. The Diário da Noite, which with O Jornal sponsored the march, wrote that the “collective manifestation ” brought together a “near totality” of “all of the elements of this great and useful class.” Musicians from São Paulo and Minas Gerais sent letters in support of their colleagues.5 The organized, united front on display at the march was both a harbinger of the real gains that musicians—black and white—won between the turn of the century and the 1930s and a facade that hid underlying divides and simmering tensions.The procession, which included composers, performers , and thespians, brought together a large array of individuals with all kinds of backgrounds. Conceived and executed more than a decade after the release of “Pelo telefone,” nearly ten years after the Oito Batutas Paris trip, and just as musicians from Estácio were helping to launch [3.147...

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