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No Mr. Amigo captured the spirit of Charro Days--Brownsville's Hispanic version of Mardi Gras--quite like Vicente Fernandez who arrived for the festivities in the late 1970s. He was at the peak of his acting and singing careers. Brownsville swooned over the Mexican macho.

Built like a middleweight and blessed with a charismatic personality, he cut a handsome figure as he would appear at events and belt out one of his hits to the delight of everyone. For three days he drew enthusiastic crowds wherever he went. He never disappointed.

One afternoon on a makeshift stage at the mall he exhorted the largely Mexican crowd to reclaim their homeland that had been stolen from them by the gringos. His handlers ushered him to another venue.

It was obvious that his steady intake of tequila was fueling him to new heights. Amazingly, his energy never waned. His voice did turn hoarse consenting to too many musical requests.

He accentuated his magical mystery tour of Brownsville by conquering one of the Border City's blond-hair maidens. Her seduction sealed his status in the community. A movie star had eclipsed his own image.

Though Fernandez's lust for young ladies doomed this relationship, the Guadalajara gentleman constructed a swimming pool at her home.

After he left, the old men whose grandfathers had lived their youths during the Revolution recalled that Pancho Villa once stormed cities with the same vitality and virility.