Merche Mar, permanent and genuine miller

Merche Mar unintentionally became the authentic and representative image of the last El Molino. She never intended to, but the vagaries of life led her to adapt her artistic style to fit in with the changes suffered by the historic and much-loved café-concert.

My first memory goes back to her first performances playing the accordion, which allowed the fifteen-year-old to concentrate on the music and not so much on the shaking. Her appearance was then something new, since vulgarity, low artistic class and letting herself be carried away by what the public of the 50s liked ruled: showing the little that the censorship regime tolerated.

He had grace, patience and resources and did not fall into the extreme of ridicule or the most vulgar eschatology.

He soon realized that he could take advantage of a good facility of speech that allowed him to improvise and come up with unexpected comments that dazzled the audience, in addition to displaying very clear and powerful diction.

Rather than acting as a chorus girl at the beginning or as a vedette later, she ended up gaining prominence in the difficult and compromised field of dialogue with the audience, especially in the front rows of the stalls. She had grace, patience and resources. She did not fall into the extremes of ridiculing or preferring the most vulgar outburst or scatology, but rather chose to offer sympathy, humour, irony, imagination, originality and a contained self-confidence. And that image ended up making a place for itself, imposing itself and being appreciated by the most diverse clientele in all social and generational profiles.

Deep down, such a style came naturally to her, as it reflected everything she carried inside as a person: kind, generous, friendly, polite.

In the 70s, I had the idea of ​​going to El Molino twice with a large group of colleagues from the editorial staff of La Vanguardia who had never set foot there, and more people signed up than I had suspected. As soon as I arrived, I went to Merche Mar's dressing room, in the process of putting on make-up to go on stage. I told her what it was about and suggested that she choose two colleagues whom I had physically described to bring up on stage, assuring her that they would be very entertaining.

She happily accepted the proposal. She enthusiastically put all her refined technique into practice and the result was extremely entertaining.

Merche Mar knew how to adapt to each of the stages, each time more difficult and risky. I was not surprised that Elvira Vázquez, the last owner and brave moderniser of the historic café-concert, did not hesitate in the least in choosing her to play the delicate role of mistress of ceremonies between the two worlds: the historic and the renovated. She carried it out with excellence.

At the premiere at the Coliseum just a few weeks ago I was delighted to find myself sitting next to her and chatting. She seemed to me to be in great shape, judging from her outward appearance, as well-groomed as ever. Her passing was completely unexpected to me. I will always remember her with great affection.