Fernando Muñiz: The B-side of History

The regulars rub their hands when they see Fernando Muñiz arrive at the Bar. They know there will be incredible stories narrated by one of the best raconteurs in this city, as Kiko Amat once defined him. His own stories, from a life that seems taken from a novel, or stories of History, the great passion on which this Barcelona native of Asturian descent currently focuses his efforts.

He leans on the bar and orders: "A caña, which often poses a problem for me in this city where, with very few exceptions, the noble art of pouring them well is neither present nor expected."

Fernando has been everything: "I've been involved in the underground press world with different fanzines, I've been a DJ, a teacher, a lecturer, a proofreader, I've set up management agencies, I had my own band, I've organized countless concerts and festivals, I had a record label, a music bar, I've written books, I've edited magazines, I've done radio and many more things that I don't even remember right now." He speaks, the one who was a musician in Los Bretones, along with the lamented Jordi Calvo; owner of the mythical Portobello Café in Gràcia, organizer of the remembered Spanish Bizarro affair, with its compilations and festivals; resident DJ at Magic in the early 90s, editor of the hilarious magazine Flandis Mandis and co-author of two essential books for the city's bar culture, the two volumes of Barcelona on the Rocks. Among many other things.

"All adventures lasted until I ran out of desire or money, mostly the latter since they were done more out of passion than business and, of course, since one doesn't have Pujol or Rockefeller as surnames, life puts you in your place with serious correctives."

Stories within History

The latest thing this hyperactive fifty-something is involved in, besides coordinating the reading club of the Vallcarca-Penitents library, is El Café de la Historia, a website that seeks to do justice to a much-maligned discipline. "Initially, history has always been that leaden succession of reigns, dates, battles, and treaties with which an unmotivated teacher bored you in class. Today, it's something that is shamelessly manipulated at the whim of charlatans and nationalists who want to peddle some tall tale. Knowing history is the best vaccine against the delusions and lies of both sides."

The original project was not a website but a book that would compile "delirious, amazing, hilarious anecdotes, in short, unknown curiosities of history." In fact, going further back, for Fernando, the spark of the project ignited "when I realized that when it came up and I explained some of these curiosities, in the middle of conversations at a bar counter like the one we are in now, my friends were amazed."

History capsules as true and rigorous as they are strange. For example, "a man from Lepe was King of England for a day, and it's not a joke. Another: Joseph Pujol, a Frenchman of Catalan origin, was one of the most famous people a hundred years ago in Europe thanks to his ability to fart loudly, recording albums based on his peculiar wind section, doing world tours with kilometer-long queues to see his shows. One more: In the 90s, a neighborhood in Madrid became independent from Spain, creating its own currency, constitution, law enforcement, borders, etc., with the support of Fidel Castro, and the UN almost ended up mediating in the mess. More: The eventful passage of Buffalo Bill and his show through Barcelona." And so, a long etcetera.

Barcelona in the DNA

"My grandfather, a character straight out of a Galdós, Valle-Inclán, or Casavella novel, depending on the day and time, was a show agent and, in his capacity, dealt with and bridged the gap between the two extremes of this city's society: the wealthy who called him to hire artists for their private parties, and the artists themselves on the other hand. The Barcelona bourgeoisie and bohemia in the same package." Little Fernando was his shadow.

"Serving as his squire, I discovered a Barcelona with a frontier personality that didn't belong to my generation, a city that didn't appear in friendly guides, the B-side of Barcelona. A city of poets who went from bar to bar reading their poems in exchange for a sandwich, of hustlers, male prostitutes, pimps, prostitutes, of losers of war and life in general who barely survived in boarding houses on Hospital Street. But, the day after all the bars on San Ramón Street had closed, my grandfather could take me to lunch with Josep Lluís Núñez or Antoni Samaranch."

Perhaps it is that background that makes him, now, not feel particularly attached to a city that annoys him for "how ephemeral and superficial it sometimes is, the contempt it shows for the things I like and care about, and the importance it gives to other things that are absolutely indifferent to me, but I think it's more a sign of the times we live in than of Barcelona itself."

Fernando asks for another beer. Around him, like bees in a hive, the bar's clientele has gathered to listen to his anecdotes and stories within History. In the background, Radio 3 plays, "I've listened to it exclusively since I can remember." They play Walls Come Tumbling Down by Style Council and he smiles, complicit with himself in that anthem of youth.

--"Shall I set a table for you?"

--"I prefer to have tapas, standing at the bar with good company, and seeing that the beers are well-poured, whatever comes up."