Vol.4, No. I

ct d Day '

12 Hepatitis January/February 2002

e After overcoming obstacles such as drug

addiction and jail time, music legend Freddy Fender now faces hepatitis C and kidney failure in a fight for his life.

BY BRAD DODSON

o his fans, Freddy Fender is a Southern blues legend. Some might even call him

immortal if they did not know the irony attached to the

word. Because - as Freddy's true fans know - failing kidneys and a battle with hepatitis C have brought this beloved star down to Earth in a fight for his life.

On a recent Saturday afternoon in Louisiana,

Freddy's fans packed themselves into the main foyer of the Isle of

Capri Casino - ignoring the lure of the slot machines just feet away -

just to catch a glimpse of him before his evening concert. A rumor has circulated that

this might be the last public performance in a career that has spanned five decades, and it is

hard to tell who would miss the other more: Freddy or his fans.

"It gives me a feeling of professional accomplish­ment," Freddy says of the assembling throng who are waiting to rush the concert hall for the best seats, "and at the same time, a humble feeling of gratitude."

When the wait is finally over, and Freddy­guitar slung over his shoulder - strolls on stage and up to the microphone, it seems as if talk of his early demise is certainly premature, until he reminds the audience himself.

"I'm very happy to be here tonight .... Of course, I'm very happy to be anywhere tonight!" he proclaims

before breaking into his first song of the night - the appropriately titled Tell It Like It Is. Before the show is over, Freddy will have everyone out of their seats and dancing in the aisles.

Freddy Fender is no stranger to tough times, or adversity. Born in the Depression, he grew up as Baldemar Huerta in a barrio in the small Texas town of San Benito. Freddy's family struggled to make ends meet in a time of scarce jobs, working as migrant laborers around the Rio Grande Valley in Texas. The hours were long, and the pay was minimal; however, it would not be long before Freddy would prove true the saying, "tough times never last, but tough people do."

"Growing up and working in tl1e fields gave me the caring attitude I now have for my fans," Freddy says. Looking back at his beginning, he adds, helps Freddy keep his feet on the ground and his ego in check when he iliinks of the people who support his music.

Freddy had an ear and voice for music from an early age, and it would be this "gift" that would change the course of his life. At the age of 10, he made his first appearance on radio, singing Paloma Querida. Not long after, another performance of iliat song would earn him first prize in a talent contest in Harlingen, Texas.

Feeling the sensation of perform­ing for others, Freddy began to take in earnest the lessons of the blues he heard sung in the fields by the African American workers. Combin­ing the Mexican music of his family, with the polka he heard played among the German/Czechoslovakian settlers, and the blues, Freddy devel­oped a style all his own.

As Baldemar Huerta, he had num­ber one hits in Mexico and South America in 1957, with Spanish ver-

sions of Elvis Presley's Don't Be Cruel and Harry Belafonte's Jamaica Farewell. Soon afterward, success came calling in the form of a contract witl1 Imperial Records. With ilie hope of crossing over to the "gringo" main­stream, Baldemar Huerta became Freddy Fender and in 1959, Freddy would hit No. 1 in ilie states with his own song, Wasted Days and Wasted Nights.

The song would prove prophetic. Before success could be further capitalized - Freddy and his bass player would be arrested and sent to prison for possession of two marijuana cigarettes. He would leave prison three years later and eventually wind up back in the Valley, working as a mechanic and taking classes at the local college, his music career derailed into playing the clubs on weekends.

Like a cat with many lives, and over a decade since he had been a rising star, Freddy was determined to make it to tl1e top again. In the 1970s Freddy turned to count1y music and in 197 5 hit the No. 1 spot with another song, Before the Next Teardrop Falls. On April 8, 197 5, he made history when the song became the first debut single to make it to the top of both the Billboard country and pop charts. A remake of Wasted Days and Wasted Nights made it to the No. I spot on the country chart and with two fol­low-up No. ls, Freddy's album went multi-platinum. By the end of the year, Billboard would name him Best

Freddy belts out his hits on stage in Biloxi, Miss., in January 2001.

Male Artist of 197 5. The Gavin Report would award him single and album of the year honors.

With a career in full motion, Freddy would follow singing with a move into acting, most notably with a breakthrough performance in the Robert Redford film, The Milagro Becmfield War. In the 1980s and 1990s, he would also earn recognition and acclaim for his work with ilie 'fejano super group, the Texas Tornadoes. Everything was great -until it got worse. Somewhere along the way to the top, Freddy would lose someiliing he wasn't even aware he needed - his health. But he would also gain some perspective.

Since 1976 Freddy has been dealing with life as a diabetic. To combat ilie disease, he has been giving himself insulin injections daily for almost 25 years. He treated diabetes as little more ilian a scratch. After all, mil­lions of people were living wiili it around the world. So Freddy contin­ued living the life he loved: traveling, performing, and having as good a time as possible.

January/February 2002 Hepatitis 13

Grammy awards for his work with the Texas Tornadoes and critical acclaim came and, by the 90s, life was as good as it could get. Then, in November 2000, the wake-up call arrived. He was told he had hepatitis C. He was also told he needed a kid­ney transplant; the diabetes was wear­ing out his organs. And just like that, much like the 1960s, Freddy Fender found himself in transition, having to start over again.

Freddy found out he had the hepatitis C virus after going to the doctor to find out why he wasn't feeling as good as he thought he should. A former rev­eler, he figured he might need to slow down and get some rest. But just to be sure, he got a professional opinion.

"I had no idea what it might be," says Freddy, "although I had been thinking for a while that it might be something, because I was always exhausted." The doctor confirmed it when Freddy's blood work tested pos­itive for the hepatitis C virus.

At first the news was a shock to Freddy. He likened it to Pandora's box. He knew he needed to find out what was wrong, but "sometimes you don't want to take the lid off, because you might not like what you find on the inside." And what he found at first glance wasn't something he wanted to see. "I guess it was a blow," he recalls, "but like a boxer, I've learned in this life that more than anything you have to roll with the punches. I've also come to realize that the only way to mature is to take your hits and get up again."

Freddy's approach toward the dis­ease has been different than many other's facing the same diagnosis. He's not in denial, but he doesn't see the need for dwelling over how he contracted the virus. "I can bet you that most of the people who were diagnosed were surprised - it's a jolt," says Freddy. "But to me, people

14 Hepatitis January/February 2002

spend too much time asking the wrong question. The question should not be 'v\There did you get this dis­ease?' it should be, 'v\That are you going to do now that you have it?"'

\ rt

you're not him." "v\Thich was right," says Freddy.

"I've gotten a lot of spirituality since then through what I do." Much of it comes in the form of unwavering sup-

This is easy for Freddy, because it's similar to another road he traveled in the 1980s - addic­tion. v\Thile it's not something he remembers fond­ly, he appreciates the similarity between accept­ing that he was addicted to alco­hol and drugs and that of living with hepatitis C.

As a person who was trying to figure

Freddy credits his wife, Vangie, for taking care of his career as well as his health.

out addiction in the past, he remem­bers always wanting to know why peo­ple became alcoholics and addicts, with the hopes of stumbling onto some hid­den criteria. "Then one day a lady said to me, 'Freddy, don't worry about how the cow got into the ditch, just worry about getting it out of there!"' The approach has worked. Freddy has since maintained 16 years sobriety with the help of Alcoholics Anonymous. That attitude is now the stance he takes towards hepatitis: Don't get caught up in the how, instead focus on dealing with it head on.

For this, spirituality and the help of others play a large role. "v\Then you first go to AA meetings, you have to learn to believe in God," says Freddy. "This was difficult for me at the time because subconsciously I probably thought I was hjm." Freddy's barber helped put it into perspective, telling him, "the only thing you need to know about God, Freddy, is that

port from his fans, many of whom offer their support through letters posted on his Web site, www.FreddyFender.com.

For a man who's made a living out of giving hope and joy to others, one of the hardest lessons Freddy has learned since he began battling hepa­titis is how to take instead of give.

"There are days when I feel that no one knows how heavy the sack is except the one who is carrying it," says Freddy. "It used to offend me when others would write, or call, to say they were praying for me, as if I was going to die that day. Then I realized that I was carrying a burden by myself that I didn't have to. I realized their words and prayers came from the heart.

"I used to find that acceptance was noble, as in acceptance of the disease - now I see that acceptance of the love of others is more noble."

The words strike a chord in him. "In the past, there were a lot of times I would call Freddy Fender fans who were terminal," remembers Freddy. "I would say things I thought were appropriate to the situation, but I didn't know what it was to be sick. Now I do.

"This has given me an insight, an ability to empathize, appreciate, and have a love for others. Unfortunately, in some ways it makes you think about dying every day. But, then you also begin to recognize what it means to be alive. You learn to live; you real­ize how fragile we really are -how weak are the links of our life."

( intl' 11

Freddy's battle for his health has led him to another impor­tant realization:

chagrin the way he handled their worries before when the illness caused him to lose a large amount of weight in a short time. "I'm very independent," he says, "and I was unaware of the situation; I didn't rec­ognize the sincerity in the concerns of my childrep. and relatives. Now I try to be more aware and sensitive."

Since going on dialysis every other day for his kidneys, and having the complications added by hepatitis C, Freddy has agreed to lower his book­ings by about 50 percent. Now he

Freddy. "The stage of my I-ICV is too far advanced for a traditional dose of medication. I'm suffering from the early stages of cirrhosis.

"I've had to settle my diet down considerably - not much of the spicy stuff anymore - and of course go to dialysis while I wait for a kidney transplant. But mostly I treat it (hepa­titis C) by trying to rest, maintaining my status with the doctor, and being sensible." He says one of his biggest regrets is that his touring and dialysis schedules do not leave time to attend

;

hepatitis support group meetings.

"My under­standing is that you can live with HCV for the rest of your life, so I'm learning all of the information on it. Right now, I know the basics." As for the future ... well, Freddy thinks it best summed up in two ways: There is much

to be grateful for in the world. Most notably his loving wife of more than 40 years, Vangie. Talking to

Freddy endures his first day of dialysis treatment in November 2000.

One is in the words of a song from the past that states his faith toward things,

him, it doesn't take much for you to get the picture - she's the proverbial "good woman" behind the man. More than a wife, she works as a manager, caretaker and protector.

He quickly points out her strengths, saying with affection, "My wife is the most devoted little soldier I've ever met, and the greatest nurse. I've never appreciated (her) so much, until I was sick." Testament to his love and appreciation, he is able to recite the date of their marriage with­out hesitation when prodded, "August 9, 1957."

Alongside his wife have been their children, although he recalls with

plays mostly weekends but still per­forms aroqnd the world. Vangie says, "I don't know where he gets the ener­gy. It's not even why does he still do it, but how does he do it?" Freddy says the cut in his touring schedule has as much to do with being older - and wanting some time to be home in Corpus Christi or fishing on his boat in the Gulf of Mexico - as it does with his ill health.

But it's change that he's made, and it's change like this that is for his best interest. "Medically speaking, I take no medications right now," says

"Starting all over again, it's gonna be rough, so rough, but we're gonna make it .... I know we will."

And the other, perhaps the most comical when taken as a sign that, no matter what, you're going to get what you need comes from the words of Freddy's 86 year-old uncle, Chuy, who told him, "Don't worry, no one ever dies before their time."

And as for that show being the last one he's ever going to perform -Freddy says don't count on it.

Brad Dodson is a freelance writer who lives in Seabrook, Texas, who has loved Freddy Fender's music for years.

January/February 2002 Hepatitis IS