“My best friend’s parents paid $10,000 to send him to a place in Arizona, which he went to for a month. He came back, and the next day he woke up and he did crystal. And his parents said they’re going to take that money out of their will. He doesn’t know what to do. So he said, ‘I want to come down there with you.’ He speaks a little bit of Spanish. I’m going to try and get him in.”
By Bill Manson, March 28, 1996 Read full article
“Do you have any identification?” The woman cochair of the board made this demand as though she were expecting an infiltrator from the Mexican provincial police. She stood squarely between me and the other members of the board in the meeting room on the second floor of the Centro. When I explained that my mission was to write a story about the Jewish community of Tijuana, her face closed and the board scattered.
By Alan Cheuse, July 31, 1997 Read full article
“I have thoughts of a backup position,” admits Chuck, “but I don’t have anything in place. It would have to be near the toll road. We’re spoiled by the toll road. We’re 20 minutes to Ensenada or 30 minutes to Rosarito, and yet, we’re a separate community. Other people think we’re on the brink of doom, believing there will be a big puff of smoke one day, and we’ll all go back to what we were before."
By Patrick Daugherty, July 18, 1996 Read full article
I wrote a story about her, called it ‘The Blue Fox.” and decided not to give it to the singles’ magazine. The publisher probably would’ve turned it down. It wasn’t dirty enough — as I wrote it. But a year or two later, after ‘The Blue Fox” appeared in Colorado Review, I sent it to the National Endowment for the Arts as part of a fellowship application. By God, they gave me a pile of money.
By Ken Kuhlken, May 21, 1992 Read full article
“I’ve been to 80 fights in Sevilla,” Dobson says. “You can go there and sit through six bulls and not hear one Ole or one clap. Silence. They sit there. They have their Popsicles or their ice cream or their Coke. And the only thing you ever hear is, ‘Euugghhh.’ Somebody’ll screw up and you hear this moan. On you imagine being down there and hearing that? It’s like blowin’ a high C at the opera!”
By Jeannette DeWyze, March 18, 1993 Read full article
Few if any tourists find their way to Colonia Rubi. Few if any members of Tijuana’s middle class find their way to Colonia Rubi. It has no department stores or duty-free perfume shops. You cannot place an off-track bet in Colonia Rubi, nor order prime rib there. It has no parks or discotheques to speak of. Colonia Rubi is, in fact, more a point of departure than a destination.
By Abe Opincar, Oct. 26, 1995 Read full article