He, what he did, he didn't call it work, he called it his fun. Perhaps that's why he did what he did. So much, so thoroughly, managing to simultaneously be a chronicler and historian of Barcelona and an essential part of its history. Like a walking monument. It was a pleasure and a respect to see him wander, gentlemanly, phlegmatic, through streets whose secrets he knew thoroughly. But it wasn't just a matter of good posture, a fortunate pose. It was a matter of substance.
Lluís Permanyer was one of those rare people who managed to command silence around him when he spoke. Others would fall silent and listen, with the certainty of someone about to learn something that could be transcendent. A piece of data, an episode, a detail capable of shaking the foundations on which our relationship with the city is built.
But all of that was, above all, fun. For this reason, when Tarradellas wanted him as press chief of the Generalitat, he declined the offer. And when Joan Clos wanted to bestow upon him the Gold Medal of Barcelona, he also said thank you very much, but no. For him, the first, the most important thing, was to be independent, because, if you are not, if you depend on a status defined by those in power, like a statuette placed there, on that shelf you haven't chosen, you lose the sacrosanct freedom to have fun.
"Everything I have written has been by my own criteria, I am the ultimate and sole responsible for my achievements and my possible errors. They have never told me what to write about and I have never accepted an assignment for something I didn't want to write," he said when he was interviewed for this medium. It was in that conversation four years ago where he also confessed that he had never stopped learning and that, for that very reason, "more than a job, what I do I consider my fun." And amen.
A Barcelona story
His is a typically Barcelona story. Of that Barcelona of before where someone who had studied Law ---without being the least bit interested in Law---, and who had been prevented from pursuing a diplomatic career because that world back then was like that and those in power ruled here, ended up working in the field of letters and journalism. Things that happened back then in this city and that, like so many other good things, would be unthinkable today.As a reporter for Destino magazine, he drew on Proust's teachings to converse with some of the greats: Pla, Espriu, Carner, and a very extensive et cetera. He then joined La Vanguardia in 1966, where he honed his skills in the international section. Later, starting in 1988, he began writing city chronicles and there was no turning back.
Just yesterday, next to his obituary, his last article was published, about the genesis of the Palau de la Música.Pieces that revealed, to Barcelonans and the rest of the world, incredible secrets of our streets. From the vindication of Josep Maria Jujol —who is now justly valued thanks to Permanyer's efforts to shed light on his work and legacy— to the intimacies of a bourgeoisie with about four hundred names and at least double or triple the faces.
Neighborhoods, monuments, shops, buildings, names and surnames acquired new meanings, new historical burdens. He wrote tons of articles and more than 80 volumes dedicated to the city and the world of Art. We learned the customs, likes, and dislikes of our predecessors. We learned the why of many things that make Barcelona Barcelona. That past that helps us better understand the present. To value it more, or to abhor it with more foundation.
Allergy to power
And he didn't stop. Just yesterday, next to his obituary, his last article was published, about the genesis of the Palau de la Música. Until the last moment, he didn't stop having fun,and the most meritorious thing is that he did it from that watchtower he had built himself without allowing external interference. No little massages, no caresses on the snout, no taps on the hump, nocarguitos, nor anything that smelled of those manger scenes to which he was allergic."I always campaign for Barcelona, the city is my only party and it's one in which only I fit," he declared. And he proved it amply. And he also demonstrated ---or, rather, above all--- that this affiliation was fundamental. When Avel·lí Artís, alias Sempronio, passed away twenty-five years ago, some proposed that he inherit the title of Official Chronicler of Barcelona. Something more than deserved. Something about which no one would have had the slightest objection. But, of course, he also rejected it, because those lineages are granted by power.
And, like a good old-fashioned Barcelonian, one of those who mix cosmopolitan erudition with a fundamental distrust, elegance in manners and a certain propensity for bouncing back, Lluís Permanyer never allowed those in charge to place him in their trophy cabinet.
That's why they never managed to stop him from having fun.