East Austin Historical Archive: Mexican Restaurants

n i t s u A t : Eas e v i h c r a l a c i r ts o n t a r s i u a h t s e R n a exic

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Contents 09

Cisco's Restaurant and Bakery

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El Matamoros

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Tamale House East

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Joe's Bakery and Coffee Shop

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El Azteca

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I-35

Mopac

The East Austin Neighborhood

E. 12th

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E. 7th

S. Congress

Cesar

East Austin

I-35

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Chave

is right in the heart of central Texas, in one of the most sought out cities in the United States. Bordered by I-35 to the west, the Colorado River and East Cesar Chavez St. to the south, and Airport Blvd to the east, the neighborhood is home to a vibrant and loving community. Historically, East Austin has been an enclave for African -Americans and MexicanAmerican residents. Early era segregationist laws forced African- Americans and Mexican- American residents east of I-35. What developed was a working class neighborhood that prided itself on family and community. They made East Austin their home and created an amazing culture. Although I could never portray the full spirit and identity of East Austin, my hope is that this book provides you, the reader, a glimpse into the past, of the people and families who opened Mexican restaurants and served the East Austin community for decades.

Some of these restaurants are still in business today; others unfortunately have closed their doors, but for now I invite you to immerse yourself in the pages and get to know the East Austin.

Best Wishes, Marissa Nicholas

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1943

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Cisco’s Restaurant and Bakery

1511 e. sixth street

Rudy Cisneros, otherwise known as Cisco, opened Cisco’s Restaurant and

Bakery in 1943, building off his father’s popular bakery that had opened in the 1920’s. Best known for making Huevos Ranchero’s famous and serving Bloody Marys at 7am, the restaurant became a popular hang out spot for politicians, celebrities and presidents like Lyndon B. Johnson. President Johnson would even ask Rudy to send ranchero sauce to the White House since there was no Mexican food available. The business hasn’t changed much over the years, even after Clovis, Rudy’s son, took over the restaurant in 1995, with Rudy’s passing. The business model and restaurant atmosphere is all about family. Cisco’s is an easy- going Mexican restaurant, one that has impacted the community and become an iconic part of Austin history.

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Article courtesy of the Austin History Center.

AF Biography. Cisneros, Rudy from Austin, April 1974 Rudy Cisneros has been in the bakery business for 27 years

Breakfast at Cisco's

By Hank Moore Rudy Cisneros has been in the bakery business for 27 years. It has been said that as much business, both private and governmental, gets conducted at Cisco's Bakery and Coffee shop than most anywhere else in Austin.

And, as a result, the proprietor, Rudy Cisneros, is one of the city's best-known characters. Rudy has a couple of trademarks: his smile and his Bloody Mary drinks. All of this is served at 1511 E. Sixth St. in a casual gathering place, where huevos rancheros (fried eggs with hot sauce) and Mexican bread are heartily prepared.

Rudy Cisneros was born in Austin, and his father was a baker.

It was not until he was discharged from the service (where he served in the horse cavalry, patrolling checkpoints along the Texas-Mexican border) that he even considered going into the bread business. He says he did so to give his dad a place to bake. Papa Cisneros worked 16 hours a day in the shop. "It was my business, but he ran its" Rudy explains. Unpretentious is Cisneros' middle name.

"I have more millionaires hanging around here than anyplace in 10

cisco's restaurant and bakery

Austin," he claimed over an afternoon round of Bloody Marys.

The modest coffee shop has bakery counters, griddles and cooking equipment in the entrance-way.

In the back is a split-level dining room, decorated in Texans-modern, with autographed pictures on the wall from congress-men, celebrities and former President Lyndon B. Johnson. "But they (the millionaires) all came from this part of town," he asserts.

Deep East Sixth is Rudy's part of town, where he's been in the bakery business for 27 years, the past 16 at the present location. He never hesitates in helping members of the Mexican-American community to better their economic lot.

All but the radical elements confide in him. "These fly-bynighters have put the Mexican population back 20 years because everyone is against everyone," the be speckled man with the calm face gestured, twirling another one of his trademarks, a cigar, in circles. He dislikes the term Chicano "We used to fight what we called discrimination. Now they want discrimination. I used to fight the word 'meskin.' Now they want to be called `Chicanos'."

Because he is so well-known in East Austin, Rudy has been asked

to make political endorsements, which many have respected. He once considered running for public office (the state legislature), but a political crony filed for the slot, and he bowed out. The next time he decides to run, it will be for the city council, "when I'm 55 or 60 (10 years away) and if I'm a wealthy man to be able to devote enough time to the job." Rudy and alma Cisneros (his second wife) have six children and four grandchildren.

Sunday breakfasts (complete with Bloody Marys by the pitcher) continue to be the business highlight of both Rudy's and Austin's week. The mixed drinks were technically "given" to customers purchasing food, and the practice started because Rudy had to kill off an over abundance of tomato juice. Since liquor by the drink came to Austin, the Bloody Mary trade has grown even larger; thus, Rudy's now having to get a liquor license to sell the beverages "over the counter." He's adding on a lounge and bar area.

Cisneros personally supervises the cooking operations but concedes, "I haven't learned yet how to bake!" When his father was in the shop, nobody else baked bread; managing other areas of business and acting as a general ambassador

of goodwill has kept him from ever learning how to bake. Other members of the family have pitched in to work at Cisco's through the years.

Rudy sets the casual pace for a shop where customers dressed in business suits and blue Jeans sit side by side. Of his own success, he's soft-spoken; of the folks who have made him a popular Austin figure, he attributes all the praise heaped on himself.

Aside from friends and light-hearted chit chat which liven up Cisco's, Rudy's volume in food sales is his other key to business success. "I'm told by my egg man that I'm the biggest user of eggs and coffee in Austin."

"There is no menu.

We don't need one because we know what we have."

The Austin Citizen, April 14, 1976 Photo by Steve Sanders

The Daily Texan, Feb. 23, 1983 Photo by Steve Pumphrey

-Rudy Cisneros, Austin People Today, February 1975

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recipies from cisco's...

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cisco's restaurant and bakery

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Article courtesy of the Austin History Center from The Houston Post, Friday, March 16, 1979

Going out: Austin

By Barbara Meintosh, Post Reporter

Cisco's always glad to see you AUSTIN -- One day a man asked Rudy "Cisco" Cisneros the secret of his success. "Good morning," Cisco replied. "No, you didn't hear me," the man said.

"What's the secret of your success?"

"Good morning," Cisco said again.

Getting a bit peeved, the man tried again. "I said, WHAT is the secret of your success."

"Good morning," Cisco said with a slight twinkle in his eye.

"That is the secret of my success."

Cisco laughs when he tells this story. He is sitting in one of the three small, cluttered dining rooms of his bakery-restaurant in Austin. Those uninitiated to the lore and legend of Cisco Bakery might wonder why someone even thinks this smiling, balding man with the cigar in his mouth is a success.

The bakery itself is in a plain 1890-ish rose stucco building and the corner of East Sixth street in a predominately Latin neighborhood. The interior is interesting but hardly elegant. Stacked cases of soft drinks are in plain view. Various photographs, prints, and paraphernalia dot the walls — includ14

cisco's restaurant and bakery

ing a set of longhorns and a toilet seat. But there are a few hints that Cisco's is more than meets the eye.

First of all, there are the dozens of people who have come out on this Sunday morning to eat breakfast In one corner is an assistant coach at the University of Texas, nearby two paramedics sit at a table with their emergency beeper in front of them, the table next to them is surrounded by some UT sorority sisters and standing in the doorway is a member of the Bandidos motorcycle gang.

The plates of steaming Mexican breakfasts being carried quickly to the tables are the second hint. They are filled with such spicy treats as Migas, crumbled taco shells, fresh tomatoes, onions, cheese and eggs all scrambled together and the ever-popular huevos rancheros.

The third hint is all those photographs of politicians on the wall of the back dining room, with the biggest giveaway the large framed shot of a solemn, large-eared man in a business suit. Its handwritten inscription reads• "To Rudy Cisneros with best wishes, Lyndon Johnson."

The truth is that Cisco 's Bakery is one of the most popular "in" places to eat lunch or breakfast — especially Sun-day morning breakfast — in Austin. Since Cisco first opened his bakery 23 years ago at East Sixth and Comal it has become an institution. Only half jokingly, Cisco calls it a place "where east meets west."

That is, where east Austin meets west Austin; where the highest officials of state and Hollywood stars can sit down to eat with ordinary working men and just plain folk.

Among those who have dined at his simple tables are John Conally, LBJ, Jerry Jeff Walker, Rep. Jake Pickle, actress Susan St. James, Mickey Rooney, Darrell Royal, Willie Nelson, John Hill and Liz Carpenter. When Johnson went to live in the White House he was so enamored of Cisco's tamales that he had them flown to him in Washington, D.C. The woman who made the tempting tamales had to be thoroughly checked out by the Secret Service before then-President Johnson could indulge his taste for tamales, Cisco says.

One of the most legendarily tales of Cisco Bakery is the Gavalle Gardenia Luncheon Club. As Cisco tells it, it all started when some "silver stocking ladies" started having Wednesday meetings there. When summer came, the women all went "off to Europe and such." Gradually the meetings were taken over by a comparatively crusty bunch of politicians, writers, radio and television personalities and country and western singers. It was outrageously fun and successful, Cisco says, because it was all nonsense, Bloody Marys, and no business. "But then some smart got in it,"Cisco says, "and started trying to use the get-together for business contacts."

So now Johnson is gone, the "tamale lady" is retired and the gardenia club is defunct, but Cisco Bakery is still going strong.

Its new light-hearted club is The White Knuckles Chapter of the Man Will Never Fly Society. The motto of this all-male club is "Birds Fly, Men drink." Women are allowed in a special branch dubbed "Coffee, Tea or Me." Another Cisco claim to fame is that he "made huevos rancheros famous." Responding with characteristic humor, Cisco admits it was really his great grandfather who deserves the honor.

He was the cook for Santa Anna's army and he made eggs with such hot sauce, the Mexicans had to storm the walls of the Alamo to get inside and use the facilities."

But of all the tales of 40 Cisco's, the most impressive is the story of Cisco himself. He quit school when he was in the third grade because his eyes had become crossed when he had run a high fever. The other children kidded him so much that he couldn't stand to be around them. For years, even after a corrective operation, he went around with his eyes on the floor reluctant to look anyone straight on.

"I ran away when I was 11," he recalls, "and joined the Horse Cavalry when I was 15." When he came back home, his father had lost his bakery. Working three jobs simultaneously, Cisco eventually bought more bakery equipment. He stumbled into the restaurant business by accident.

"One drizzly, rainy morning some men from the body shop across the street came over and had some coffee. I offered them some biscuits. The next day they were back for more coffee and biscuits.

Soon I had to set up a table and then someone gave me a grill to fry eggs. I sold 2 eggs, biscuits and coffee for 35 cents." As his business slowly grew, mostly by word

of mouth and newspaper articles, so did his interest in politics. To this day some people still call him an "unofficial ward politician."

He admits he has always been vocal regarding the interests of the Mexican-American community.

Cisco is right. It is probably what he calls "Good morning" which has made his small business so popular. Almost everyone walking into the bakery is greeted with a friendly `Good morning," or "hello" by Cisco. He is constantly smiling, waving and calling almost everyone by their first names.

From opening to closing, 6 a.m. to 2 p.m., Cisco is almost always either sitting at a table chatting with customers, answering the phone or working the cash register.

There is no menu because, Cisco says, "We know what we have and it's more friendly for the waitresses and waiters to talk with the customers." On any given day half of those waiting on the tables may be Cisco's children. He has 11 — six girls and five boys.

That includes three sets of twins.

"It's the food and the bull," Cisco says, assessing his success as he gazes about the bakery. "When people come by I make them feel at home. People don't want to be fawned over. They just want to be welcome."

Glenn K. September 18, 2015 I have eaten at Cisco's a hundred times over 30 years. It is a one of the touchstone eateries that define Austin. I had never heard of Mexican breakfast the first time I had Migas at Cisco's. A plate of eggs,cheese, onions and a few tortilla chips softly scrambled together . It is served along side the best ranchero sauce in the business and refried beans.

You have a meat (breakfast sausage for me) and bread choice. The tortillas are fresh and delish but I go with their incredible biscuits. Ciscos bakery isn't a bakery in name only. These biscuits are as good grandmother's.

Skip the liquid butter in the squeeze bottle and go with the honey. Liquid butter on the table will probably kill it for a few Yelpers but here it adds to the retro charm of the joint.

I have tried several more dishes here and would recommend all. However the fajitas are traditional Rio Grande Valley style skirt steak and perfect. Ciscos has some flaws but not in service or quality of food. I miss Rudy but I love Ciscos. Clovis keeps the family tradition rolling and this long time fan appreciates it. I plan on eating here a hundred more times.

And hey hipsters after you roll out of bed at the break of noon be aware you are going to have to hustle to get in the front door before 2:30 when they close for the day.

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Alex S. December 15, 2013 Cisco's was probably the most uncool spot I went to in all of Austin, and I loved it. Unlike other Austin staples which are flashy or chic or so damn cool (which isn't a bad thing mind you, I loved them too), Cisco's is a serious Austin staple. It's been around forever, long before the city itself was considered "cool". I went with a friend who took me because her grandfather had taken her father way back when. And that you have to love.

And love is the name of the game here. It's a family run establishment and there are pics of the whole family all over the walls. And there's love in the food, you can tell.

I got things I had never tried before, which I loved even more, including migas, which are corn fried tortilla strips with eggs and refried beans. Damn good! I also got the biscuits which came with two condiment squeeze bottles of honey and butter. And my god, I was in heaven.

The food is cheap, the staff is friendly and it's easy to see why people have been coming there for generations. Don't miss it.

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cisco's restaurant and bakery

Clipping courtesy of the Austin History Center, from The Austin Statesman, Oct 14, 1966

1947

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El Matamor0s 504 east avenue

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Article courtesy of the Austin History Center.

AF Biography. Lopez, Monroe from The Austin Story, March 1962

Monroe Lopez Does The Impossible

By Ethel J. Roe Although he'd never eaten in a Mexican restaurant be-fore he opened El Matamoros on East Avenue, Monroe Lopez perhaps has done more to popularize the eating of Mexican food in Austin than any other person. Owner of three Mexican food places—El Mat, El Toro, and Fl Charro--and one "Mexican Food to Take Home" place, his annual payroll runs about $300,000.

He has originated a number of tasty recipes. Most famous is his Crispy Taco. "I tried to make something people could eat with a fork and even those with poor teeth could handle." Most people who've eaten them say they are a great improvement over the hard taco.

Monroe Monseis Lopez was born on a farm near Creed-moor in 1918. The family moved in 1919 to Austin to be near his father's job at the University of Texas. Then the depression came on.

The father lost his job. Someone stole Monroe's bicycle which also put him out of work. He'd been delivering orders for the old Coney Island eating place on "The Drag". The family came to know 20

el matamoros

hard times. Monroe says he stood in the bread line more than once.

They moved back to the farm where they could at least raise a garden and feed for chickens and cow, trap birds and rabbits to survive.

When he was 16, he applied for appointment in the Civilian Conservation Corps, a depression born project to help those affected by hard times. He would receive $S a month spending money, and his family would get $25. The only Mexican in the group of 65 accepted, Monroe says "I got along with every-body."

In the Corps, he told his superior officer he wanted to cook. "He advised me to get as near the kitchen as I could, I took a job as pot washer. They cooked with wood then, which made a dirty kitchen. Nobody wanted that job. Soon I was made second cook, and then promoted to head cook. I still wonder how I could have held the job, young as I was."

After 18 months in the ccc he came back to Austin and worked for Butler Brick Co. delivering bricks. Then came another crisis in his life. Kuntz-Sternenberg Lumber Company held a mortgage on the family home During the depression they had been paying only the interest—about $3 a month.

Mr. Jack-son of the Lumber Company told Monroe's father that if he could get one of his sons to work for the company , he would allow half of the son's wages to apply on the mortgage. The father put the proposition before his sons.

Monroe was the only one to offer himself. Not only did he pay the mortgage off , but he added a room to the house and paid for that.

It is perhaps this characteristic of having an objective and then being willing to work hard and sacrifice to attain it that has brought Monroe Lopez to his present distinctive place in the Austin business community.

In 1947 he and his brother planned to open the place now known as El Matamoros, the brother to furnish the building and Monroe to do the work.

When the building was ready, the brother decided to back out. He offered to rent the building to Monroe. But the equipment had to be bought, a considerable item.

"I talked it over with my wife and she told me to do what I thought best. So I went to the old Citizens State Bank and applied for a loan, putting up $1 ,000 of my savings. They agreed to lend me $3,000 but took a mortgage on everything I owned. It wasn't much—a few personal things such as my car, and some lots I planned to build a house on. I paid 10% interest—not too much considering what a poor financial risk I was."

So El Mat, a small eating place at that time was opened. Monroe and his wife lived upstairs "to save rent." He previously had worked as a carpenter earning $100 a week and sometimes more. But all that he made from the business he turned back into it. He didn't clear a penny above debt payment and actual expenses the first year.

In fact, he came out in the red.

"I found that most of my customers were Anglos. When Mexicans eat out , they want something different . It's the same with Anglos--they are the ones who eat Mexican food. I saw that my job was to serve food Anglos would like . So I toned down high seasoning to suit the taste of those who were used to maybe only black pepper.

Also I learned to use tomatoes which are more in the Italian style.

"We never serve onions unless a customer asks for them, even on hamburgers which they really go with. The reason is that if a customer has indigestion from eating onions, he blames it on the Mexican food. Once a man said to me, 'In Mexico they al-

ways serve onions, why don't you?'

I told him the answer was easy.

Onions are cheaper than cheese.

"For a long time when I waited tables , I couldn't understand one thing One customer would say the food was delicious. Maybe another at the very next table would ask if we'd changed cooks, and say the food was terrible. I'd go into the kitchen and taste the food. It all came out of the same pots . It tasted all right to me. I came to this conclusion. The taste depends on the customer and the mood he's in. Maybe the one who doesn't like the food isn't well, he may have had a fuss with his wife, or some-thing else ."

When he first opened El Mat , it was near what is known in hobo-language as "The Jungle . " There the wino's and hopheads gathered. Monroe says he tried to understand these unfortunates and befriend them even to lending money and giving food and drink. As a result they were his friends. He says he never had a thing stolen from him. If a newcomer picked up something, an old-timer would say, "Don't take that . It belongs to Monroe ."

Asked if some come in who've never eaten Mexican food before, he said "Yes they look at the menu doubt-fully and finally say , 'well , we'll try it.' Usually they come back for more and make good regular customer."

Mr. and Mrs. Lopez have two daughters and one grandson. Linda , the elder , married but didn't change her name . Her husband is Joe Adam Lopez , no blood kin.

Both are students in Sam Huston College , Huntsville . Joe is studying printing and Linda is fitting herself to teach. The grandson , age nine months, is named Frank Monroe after both his grand-fathers. Lucille, their younger daughter, is a student in Stephen F. Austin High School.

"Much of whatever success I've

had is due to my wife. She stood by me faithfully when the going was hard." Mrs. Lopez is the former Petra Riviera of Smithville. She was active in the business for the first eight years. Then 1 it was no longer necessary for I her to work.

Concluding, this highly successful restaurateur, said, "I think people like Mexican food because it wakes up their taste buds. I've helped them develop this taste and that is the reason I've succeeded."

And people do like the food, as anyone can testify who has seen the long waiting line reaching sometimes even out on the street."

Ad from The Aus

tin American Stat

esman, Dec. 14,

1963

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el matamoros

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Article courtesy of the Austin History Center from The American- Statesman, Sunday, October 18, 1953, Austin, Texas

El Matamoros Growing Rapidly The El Matamoros Cafe at 504 East Avenues, now only six years old has been serving Mexican food in such a way that is is one of the fastest growing eating places in Austin.

In 1947, 35-year-old Owner Monroe Lopez has an idea that trained cooks and waiters, serving food cooked with spices imported from Mexico would be popular among Central Texas diners. He opened the first El Matamoros in an old four-room house which seated 44 persons. He had only four employees. Now, in the new El Matamoros building, the cafe has some 45 employees-with seats for 300 customers.

Lopez has also expanded his business of serving, tasty Mexican dishes to include a big take-home services next door at the place he calls "Monroe's." El Matamoros makes all its tamales and tortillas. The zesty dishes with which these are served are prepared in a big, expanded kitchen with the latest stainless steel equipment.

The cafe has two stories now, with an open-air terrace on the roof.

A new elevator has just been installed for the convenience of patrons.

Lopez' waiters are what he calls "the cream of the crop." They're efficient and fast and the whole staff can serve five or six persons per minute.

Lopez, who is married and has two children, was born in Austin and he plans to keep expanding with the Friendly City.

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el matamoros

MORE MATAMOROS—This is the front of the modern new El Matamoros Cafe, 504 East Avenue. Six years ago Owner Monroe Lopez started this place in a four-room house seating 44 persons. Now he serves his zesty Mexican food to as many as 300 at a time. Notice the elevator on the roof which carries diners to the top terrace.—(Neal Douglass Photo.)

1961

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Tamale House East 1707 e. sixth street

Carmen and Moses Vasquez opened the first Tamale House, located at

Congress and 1st (now Cesar Chavez) in 1961. In 1977, Carmen’s oldest child, Robert Vasquez, opened Tamale House #3 on Airport Boulevard. Now the five children of Diane Vasquez-Valera, daughter of Carmen Valera, co-own and operate Tamale House East. Tamale House East incorporates the history, passion and spirit of the original Tamale House and Mexico Tipico, a restaurant started and owned by their mother Diane. The family behind the Tamale House establishment has made a significant impact on the Austin community since the early 1900’s. President Lyndon B. Johnson even had Grandma’s tamales flown to the White House.

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Story from the Austin Breakfast Tacos: The Story of the Most Important Taco of the Day

by Mando Rayo and Jarod Neece

Carmen Valera, Tamale House East Tell us your story.

It all started in 1912, when our great-grandfather Antonio Villasana escaped the turmoil of the Mexican Revolution with his parents and siblings and settled in Austin, Texas. He was only thirteen years old at the time. By the I920s, he had opened a small restaurant in what used to be a Mexican-American neighborhood located near present day Austin City Hall. He called it Tony 's Cafe.

By 1935, Antonio was the owner and operator of Tony's Tortillas in the Guadalupe Church neighborhood of East Austin. He quickly established a second tortilla factory in Houston. Tony's Tortillas was one of the very first tortilla factories in the state of Texas. His products were distributed to supermarkets and restaurants across Texas and throughout the Southwest.

Combining the tried-and-true traditions of family values and hard work, all of our great-grandfather's children worked at Tony's Tortillas. His oldest child, Carmen, our grandmother, started working at a very early age alongside her mother. Carmen made candies and tor28

tamale house

tillas. In 1961, our grandmother Carmen and her husband, Moses Vasquez, opened up the Original Tamale House at the corner of Cesar Chavez Street and Congress Avenue. This take-out business soon became a successful and iconic Austin staple. Rumor has it that President Lyndon Baines Johnson used to have Grandma's tamales flown to the White House.

A fact is that he would send his limo driver to pick them up for him when he was in town. They sold the restaurant in 1988, making history in Austin real estate and even making national news.

Then, in 1977, Carmen's oldest child, our uncle Robert Vasquez, opened the Tamale House #3 on Airport Boulevard.

His place was soon to become one of the best-known Mexican food take-out restaurants with a nationwide reputation. He made the New York Times for being one of the first to sell breakfast tacos. A musician friend once said that the Tamale House has fed more musicians and starving artists (literally) in Austin than any other place.

Uncle Bobby has operated his business for thirty-five years and has been a mentor and supporter of the Tamale House East. He is also one of the last remaining veterans of the 1980s' infamous Austin Taco Wars. Without his support and help, the Tamale House East would not be possible. He is usually seen at Tamale House East on Sundays, providing advice and encouragement to us: his nieces and nephews. Throughout the years, other locations of the Tamale House have included one at the intersection of Guadalupe and Twenty-ninth Street operated by our Aunt Peggy and another one at College Avenue in South Austin, operated by our grandmother Carmen.

In 1982, our mother, Diane Vasquez-Valera, who had worked with her mom, Carmen, at the

original Tamale House on Congress since the age of thirteen, opened her own place, Mexico Tipico Restaurant. After two years in Montopolis, she moved the restaurant to the current Tamale House East location at 1707 East Sixth Street. Our father, Juan Valera, who emigrated from Peru in 1963, designed and constructed the building that we currently occupy. In 1984, an apartment was added to the second floor restaurant and that is where we grew up.

So, yes, we can say that we actually grew up in the restaurant business!

Mexico Tipico quickly developed its own following and was widely recognized as one of the fifty best Hispanic restaurants in the United States. It was at this location that our great-aunt Betty, Antonio's daughter, came to help our mom. She not only helped operate the restaurant but also helped raise the five Valera children. After over forty years of working in the restaurant business while raising five children, our parents closed Mexico Tipico in 2000. Since that time, we have continued to make this place our family home.

During the years following Mexico Tipico's closing, our mom, Diane, and our aunt Cathy Vasquez-Revilla, who was a City of Austin planning commissioner and owner of La Prensa newspaper, decided to start a movement.

They organized east side business owners and residents to develop the Plaza Saltillo Concept. Together, they convinced Capital Metro to donate land and secured federal funds for the Plaza's construction. Plaza Saltillo is now not only a light rail stop but also a testament to the families who settled and preserved the rich cultural heritage of our beautiful east side community for everyone to enjoy.

Many of Maico Tipico's customers tell us they remember it fondly. They like to tell us which

booth they sat in and request that we bring their favorite dishes back. We are happy to oblige.

Another generation remembers the famous tamales at the original Tamale House on Congress.

Some were only children at the time and now return with their own children and grandchildren.

Now, as it often does, life has come full circle. There's still a Carmen, Roberto, Juan and Antonio (Jose) in the kitchen, but now we've added a Colombina. The scenery is a little different these days, but the family recipes and traditions remain the same. And yes, we serve breakfast tacos all day long. We invite you to experience and savor not only fresh, delicious and homemade food, including the breakfast tacos that have been perfected over generations at the Tamale House and Mexico Tipico, but also to experience, in a century's worth of recipes, memories and traditions with your own family and friends.

We hope to bring you new and exciting culinary dishes to enjoy, while continuing to preserve the rich cultural heritage and history of Austin's east side. It is our honor to serve you, as we continue what our great-grandfather started all those years ago. Our casa is always your casa, too, and at the Tamale House East, we will always make you feel right at home.

Diane Valera, age 16, at Tamale House Congress

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breakfast taco recipe...

Article Courtesy of the Austin History Center from the Austin Business Journal, May 5, 2014

Tamale House restaurant to close following owner's death

By Chad Swiatecki, Staff Writer The Tamale House restaurant on Airport Boulevard, one of Austin's best-known and historic eateries, will close following the death last week of longtime owner Robert Vasquez. A post on the restaurant's Facebook page Monday morning said the Vasquez family has decided to not continue to run the business, which opened 36 years ago.

The post which was written by one of Vasquez's children, read: "It saddens me to announce that the Tamale House will be closing it's doors after 36 wonderful years.

The restaurant was my father's baby, and that's how I want to remember it. It will never be my baby. I will be forever grateful to what his baby did for me, my daughter, and my siblings. I would like to give out a huge loving 1 hank you to all the women who worked in that hot kitchen 6 days a week so my father could put food on our table and money in our pockets. Without those girls, we wouldn't have had anything. My father loved his employees and his customers and they loved him, and he was at peace with that. He will never be forgotten. We will miss you and love you forever Daddy."

A follow-up post said the restaurant will be giving away food on Tuesday and possibly Wednesday in exchange for charitable contributions, with a minimum $5 donation requested.

Tamale House drew a visit from celebrity chef Anthony Bourdain and his television show "No Preservations" last year.

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Article from Arts and Labor, May 6, 2014

Another piece of soul: Tamale House #3 is closing for good after Wednesday

By Michael Corcoran The first thing I ever ordered at the Tamale House- the original one at Congress and First Street (now Cesar Chavez)- was carne guisada tacos with jalapeños and it’s the only thing I ever ate there over the next 30 years.

You don’t mess with perfection.

People went ballistic when the word got out that the Cactus Café was closing a few years ago (the outcry saved it), but Tamale House #3 on Airport Boulevard was every bit as vital to the Austin music community. The Vasquez family has announced that TH3 will close for good, following the death of owner Robert Vasquez. Austin musician Paul Minor acknowledged the passing by saying Vasquez has fed him more times than his own mother. Tamale House made sure you had something good to eat each day, even with quarters you pilfered off your roommate’s desk.

But today (Tuesday) and tomorrow, the Tamale House will open one last time, staying open past 3 p.m. today and then all day tomorrow until the food’s gone. I’m heading there as soon as I email this in.

The Tamale House is the closest Austin’s ever got to cheezborger cheezeborger cheezborger. It was fast food done right, with feeling and flavor; an idiosyncratic experience in the town that brought the world Whole Foods. With an interior you might find in a documentary about a Mexican border town, Tamale House #3 was no nonsense, just tasty food at cheap, cheap prices. Five dollars and you’d be eating 32

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better than a billionaire. It was not a place to kick back with a marg.

You stood in line and ordered, while the Mexican women made the sweatshop tacos right in front of you because the kitchen ended at the front counter. They called your number and your stomach yelled “Bingo!” Then you got the hell out. I usually ate in the car if one of the two tables wasn’t empty. Some folks plopped down on the steps and tore into their 85 cent tacos like they were desperate for a fix.

You didn’t take people to Tamale House with you unless you wanted to impress them with how streetwise you were. It was all about getting your food, filling up, and feeling like you could take on the world. The closest Austin got to New York City.

Once with three locations, the Tamale House made front-page news in 1984 when Bobby’s parents Moses and Carmen held out selling the original taco stand, on an 8,000-square foot lot at the corner of Congress and First Street (now Cesar Chavez), until developers upped the offer to $1.6 million. It was a stare down, the money people blinked and the town was charmed by the story of the taco maker who became a millionaire overnight.

A few years later, Bobby and his sister Peggy, who owned now-defunct Tamale House #2 on Guadalupe at 29th St., got into a “Taco War” with competitors, which drove the price of breakfast tacos down to 49 cents each. This was a great time to live in Austin.

The hole in the wall at 5003 Airport Blvd., which hasn’t sold tamales in over 15 years, is one of the last bastions of true Austin soul. It was like a 1977 punk band that rocks today as ferociously as it ever did. Tamale House #3 was controlled chaos, except out in the parking lot where anarchy reigned until fairly recently. But even after parking spaces were painted in the

pavement, everybody just kind of parked wherever and from overhead at lunchtime it must’ve looked like a handful of magnets thrown up against the refrigerator door.

The grandchildren of Moses and Carmen have opened Tamale House East fairly recently at the former E. Sixth St. location of Mexico Tipico and it’s really good.

But it’s not the same. There was no place in town like Tamale House #3, which tackled hangovers and fed the poor and hungry for 37 years. Losing it feels a little like losing Electric Lounge or Steamboat, neither of which has ever been replaced.

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Joe's Bakery and Coffee Shop 2305 e. seventh street

Joe’s Bakery and Coffee Shop can be described as a work of love. The small

business that opened in 1962 is family run and community oriented. Four generations in the making, the Avila family has stuck by their employees and customers. Now run by the grandchildren of Joe Avila, the bakery, coffee shop and restaurant are rooted in the history of the family and their love for home cooked food, with recipes perfected for over 50 years.

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Story from the Austin Breakfast Tacos: The Story of the Most Important Taco of the Day

by Mando Rayo and Jarod Neece

Joe's Bakery and Coffee Shop For over 75 years Joe Avila’s family has been serving the Austin community. Throughout the years the Avila family has become a dynasty among East Austin businesses and has generated a loyal customer base. Generations of families have patronized and been employed by this family business from the beginning of La Oriental at 2305 E. 9th St. to Joe’s Bakery & Coffee Shop at 2305 E.7th St. The story of Joe’s Bakery & Coffee Shop is four generations in the making, and shows the perseverance, commitment and loyalty of one family.

The family business began in 1935 when Joe’s mother and stepfather, Sophia and Florentino De La O, opened La Oriental Grocery & Bakery at 2305 East 9th Street.

The bakery on 9th street was not just a place of business but it was their home; they lived in back of La Oriental. The small neighborhood bakery was the hangout for adults and children to catch up on the local news and events in the community. Florentino a talented baker worked diligently to bring the traditional style of pan mexicano to the neighborhood. He was a hard worker who continued 36

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to work for numerous bakeries around Austin while maintaining his own bakery. For 22 years La Oriental flourished on East 9th St until closing its doors in 1957.

Sophia and Florentino took some time off and in 1961 rented a small space in a commercial building at 2223 E. 7th St. (today the address is 2217 E. 7th St.).

The building housed several small businesses and with the small space their bakery business was re-built.

However, due to the ailing health of Florentino, Sophia sold the bakery to her eldest son Joe Avila in 1962.

Joe, who had become Florentino’s apprentice over the years, took on a partnership with his brotherin-law Joe Hidrogo. The two men named the bakery Joe’s Bakery & Coffee Shop and their new business endeavor took off. While business was underway the partnership did not endure, and after a few months Joe and his brother-in-law amicably parted ways, leaving Joe to run the bakery solo. By himself Joe took on every aspect of running the bakery, working 16 to 18 hour days, and soon found himself with visions of expanding his bakery into a restaurant. Joe convinced the owner of the building to allow him to rent a larger space of, enabling him to add a kitchen, counter top, and a dining room. During this time Joe’s wife Paula worked at HEB but by 1965 she had joined Joe at the bakery. A young woman with little experience in the kitchen, Paula relied on the help of her motherin-law Sophia and a family friend Mrs. Torres to help her find her way around the kitchen. Together the women brought old family recipes together and created the taste of Joe’s Bakery & Coffee Shop.

In 1969, Joe and Pauline took out a loan for $30,000 and relocated the restaurant two doors down, to the old Lott Lumberyard, at 2305 East 7th Street. In 1980 Joe and Paula’s youngest daugh-

ter Carolina joined her mother and father in the family business.

For years Joe, Paula, and Carolina worked together to bring the flavor of Joe’s Bakery to its loyal customers. In 1998 due to health reasons Joe officially retired from running the daily operations of the business and his eldest daughter Rose Ann stepped in. In 2001 Joe’s Bakery & Coffee Shop was incorporated a long journey from is beginnings in 1963. In January of 2002, Rose Ann retired from her job of 30 years at State Farm Insurance to run the business full time. In 2003 Rose’s daughter Regina joined the family at the restaurant to help carry on the family tradition. In 2010 Joe L. Avila with his family beside him passed away of lung cancer. It was a tremendous loss to the family and to the community.

Today Rose Ann, Carolina, and Regina manage the restaurant, continuing the legacy which began 50 years ago. Paula continues to take part in various aspects of the restaurant and can be seen peeking her head around Joe’s Bakery along with the newest members of the family Izabella and Evalina.

Ad from The Austin American Statesman, Aug 16, 1974

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"We work all the time with our customers and together we are able to create beautiful and amazing things that surely brings positive results and complete satisfaction."

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joe's bakery and coffee shop

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El Azteca Restaurant

2600 e. seventh street

Jorge de Jesus Duron Guerra opened El Azteca Restaurant in May of 1963.

Guerra, who immigrated to the United States in 1953 and served a total of 11 years of service with the Air Force, opened El Azteca as a way of survival, not only for himself and his family, but as well for the community. Focusing on community and authenticity, Guerra created an establishment that has served not only great Mexican food for over 53 years, but has honored, helped and stood up for the East Austin community. Chicken mole, soft tacos, and barbacoa de cabeza are just the start of a menu that has fed and nourished the vibrant community.

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Article courtesy of the Austin History Center from American-Statesman, September 23, 2016

The story behind Austin’s El Azteca

By Michael Barnes Founder Jorge Guerra gives up longtime Mexican restaurant's spot on East Seventh Street.

The humble building on East Seventh Street bore a plain sign: “For Lease or Sale.” It stayed on the market for two years during the early 1960s.

“A woman told fortunes there,” Jorge de Jesus Duron Guerra says. “Before that, it was, at different times, Alba’s Cafe, Rosita’s Tamales and Ruby’s Dancing Place. Originally, the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers used it when they were building Bergstrom Air Force Base during World War II.” Guerra and his young family turned the spot into El Azteca.

“We opened at 3 p.m. May 10, 1963,” Guerra, 84, says. “I have the record. $17.53 in sales.”

Before the end of this month, El Azteca is expected to close after 53 years of serving steak a la Mexicana, chicken mole, soft tacos, menudo and barbacoa de cabeza, a victim of family health care costs, rising property taxes and a drop in sales during two years of street work on East Seventh.

“I can remember the first time I went to El Azteca,” longtime Austinite Joe Sherfy says. “And it’s sad to see another family-run 42

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Jorge Guerra, owner of El Azteca Restaurant, in 1975. Photo courtesy of Jorge Guerra

Mexican restaurant close here.”

Guerra, an outspoken military veteran, has tangled with local leaders for years over questions of building expansions, on-site parking, area crime and flooding. Now, he says, taxes are killing the place.

“They kept saying, ‘We want more money,’” he says. “Without improvements. And it’s the same buildings, the same land. But it’s not our property any more. As much as I love our community, the business is not a business for us now.”

The boy from Montemorelos Guerra’s parents, Servando Duron Benavides and Antonia Guerra, raised their seven children in Montemorelos, a small city one hour’s drive from Monterrey in Nuevo León. His mother found herself widowed at an early age. Her son received a basic education before crossing the Rio Grande with a visa on Nov. 23, 1953. The immigration service shortened his surname, “Duron Guerra,” to “Guerra.”

Other family members had paved the way. His uncle, Ismael Guerra, fed railroad workers in Pennsylvania during the 1920s, then opened three restaurants before returning to Nuevo León during the Depression. His brother, Gustavo Guerra, was a World War II veteran.

Before 1953, as a young man, Guerra had worked in his uncle’s restaurants in Reynosa, Tamaulipas, where he crossed the border often on business.

“We were serving mostly people from McAllen,” he recalls. “So it had to be the best, including the best water and the best milk.”

After his official arrival in the United States, he moved to Philadelphia. The Korean War intervened. He signed up for the Selective Service, was drafted, and trained as a Marine at Parris Island, S.C. “Before Christmas, they signed the amnesty,” Guerra says.

“I was stationed in Japan and South Korea with the Air Force later, for a total of 11 years service, ending with an honorable discharge as a staff sergeant.”

He married Ninfa Galvan Reyna Guerra in 1955. They had two boys and two girls. The couple bought a modest house at Linden and Lyons streets — just a few blocks to the northwest across Boggy Creek — a year after opening El Azteca.

In the service, Guerra had learned communications and electronics, but found no ready jobs in Austin — this was well before Austin’s vaunted tech boom.

As Guerra remembers, too, it was still a pretty segregated place.

“Opening El Azteca was a matter of survival,” he says. “I don’t know how the name came to me. It

had to be something that belongs to anyone who wants to respect the culture. It is a name to be honored and respected.”Customers sometimes asked: Why not “La” Azteca.

“If it was a bakery, yes, La Azteca,” he says of the feminine article, “but El Azteca is for any man or woman who was part of the tribe.”

Serving more than food Two things gave the Guerra enterprise an extra kick: community and authenticity.

“El Azteca is an Austin institution that will be sorely missed,” says former City Council Member Mike Martinez. “But it wasn’t just the great Mexican food that Mr. Guerra served that made the place so special. It was Mr. Guerra himself.

His civic engagement and political participation in his community was always a part of El Azteca. He challenged me on numerous occasions to think about things from a different perspective. We didn’t always agree, but I surely did respect him 100 percent for his service to our country and to his community.”

From the start, the Guerra patriarch got involved in matters that affected his neighbors. He was helped out by older Austin families, such as the Limóns and Estradas, who owned nearby businesses. It didn’t hurt that the head of La Fuerza newspaper liked his empanadas and traded advertising for them.

“Mr. Guerra was a key leader for the people of East Austin back in the day, especially in the Zaragoza and Govalle neighborhoods,” says advertising executive and community historian Lonnie Limón.

“He got things done because he was fearless and determined.” Crime and flooding were perennial concerns in this section of Govalle.

“It was about people feeling safe,” Guerra says. “Tillery and Lyons streets, for instance, would really flood. The trouble was convincing the

city that there was a problem.”

For years, folks had used a steep ravine on Boggy Creek above Rosewood Park as an informal dump. When it rained heavily, trash raced downstream to Govalle and backed up under bridges. Engineers warned that if they widened the watercourse, other neighborhoods would flood.

“I didn’t give up,” Guerra says.

“Someone was making noise.”

When a new priest, Father Joe Znotas, showed up at St. Julia Catholic Church, down the street from the Guerra house, he was warned to get out of the street when it rained.

“Hey, you are going to get flooded!” Guerra shouted at him.

“He was new. He didn’t know.”

Catholic Bishop Louis Reicher was one of the first civic leaders, Guerra says, to recognize the problems. The odd-shaped former St. Julia school, now a community center, for instance, was built on stilts to prevent it from flooding.

Guerra’s lobbying took him to Congressman Jake Pickle — who excelled at constituent care — as well as to U.S. Sens. John Tower and Lloyd Bentsen, to seek federal funds. An Army officer inspecting Boggy Creek, which flooded three or four times a year back then, told him to expect something else if they took on the project.

“He said, ‘Your taxes are going to go up,’” Guerra recalls. “Well, they are already going up all the time!”

In addition, Guerra says he felt that the city’s mainstream culture did not respect the longtime heritage of Govalle. Since the 1920s and ’30s, its unassuming homes near the railroad tracks had been surrounded by gardens and empty lots.

“Instead of investing here, they slowly let it decay,” Guerra says. “But people liked our food.

We grew chili poblano peppers in the gardens because there wasn’t any in the stores.” City Council Member Ben White — whom

1. Jorge Guerra, owner of El Azteca Restaurant, in 1987. Photo courtesy of Jorge Guerra 2. Jorge Guerra, right, with his father and brothers in 1937. Photo courtesy of Jorge Guerra 3. Jorge Guerra in his restaurant

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Guerra still calls “Uncle Ben” — helped him persuade city leaders to make improvements in and around El Azteca. Slowly, the city added police protection, paved the streets and channelized the creek.

“At City Council meetings, they wouldn’t call me by my name,” Guerra says. A council member addressed him instead using an ethnic slur usually directed at people from the western Mediterranean: “You next, dago.”

“Well, I’ve got Italian, Spanish, Native, German and Anglo in me,” Guerra says. “I call them ‘parientes,’ relatives.”

Another Guerra goal: More authentic food and drink.

“We served more than just enchiladas, tacos and beans,” he says.

“Cabrito wasn’t available any other place in Austin. We had to bring in our produce from San Antonio.”

When he was there in the 1970s to pick up supplies, he saw Corona beer for sale.

“Sell me two cases,” he told the distributor. “There was no Mexican beer in town. I bought my Carta Blanca, Bohemia, Tecate, Negra Modelo from San Antonio. I was the only customer for Dos Equis.”

One other memorable item for sale: Calendars decorated with extravagant images of Aztecs.

“It was at a time when Austin didn’t want to talk about Indians,” Guerra says. “And some didn’t want to speak Spanish because of the punishments. The international community came in by dozens to give them as Christmas presents. I think it increased the popularity of our culture. We belonged.”

Losing a companion Ninfa and Jorge Guerra worked as a team for decades. They founded a small corporation, bought more land, kept the business going in good times and bad, even as food trends swerved off in other directions.“Early on, it helped us that 44

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other places downtown closed at 10 p.m. or midnight,” Jorge Guerra says. “We stayed open till 2 a.m., even 4 a.m. We’d walk home as the sun was coming out. Then had to be up at 9 a.m. to open at 11 a.m.

Seven days a week.”

Then one day, Ninfa Guerra, who had developed diabetes, sat down and stared off into the distance.

“Somethings wrong with you,” her husband said. “We called an ambulance and went to the diabetic clinic, then to the hospital. She never recovered. Lost much of her memory. I wasn’t able to have my companion to back me up.”

Slowly, Jorge Guerra, who still lives at Lyons and Linden, surrounded by family pictures and mementos, turned over day-to-day operations to his descendants. But he was far from disengaged. He sought help from city leaders once again when street work in front of the eatery knocked down sales a reported 50 percent. El Azteca also lost some parking spaces to the

widened East Seventh. Meanwhile, property taxes more than doubled.

“We had to keep putting money in,” Guerra says. “And my wife had to go into rehabilitation.”

That was extraordinarily costly. In the end, his wife’s care came first.“My life has been there with my wife for so long,” he says. “My soul will be there as long as I have a soul.”

Jorge and Nifna Guerra and their family in 1969.

Photo courtesy of Jorge Guerra, The Austin American Statesmen

Jorge Guerra, owner of El Azteca Restaurant, right, with J.J. Pickle in 1974. Photo courtesy of Jorge Guerra

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Article courtesy of the Austin History Center from La Prensa, September 11, 1992

Long-time community leader named Outstanding Hispanic Citizen

By Leonard Herrera Jorge DeJesus Duron Guerra considers himself a concerned citizen.

He has spent his life in East Austin working to improve the streets, parks and safety of the people in the community.

His efforts have won much needed improvements to flood controls and streets after many years. His commitment has caught the attention of government officials and residents alike.

For his long-term community service, Fiestas Patrias of Austin has just awarded Guerra its Out-standing Hispanic Citizen of the Year.

The announcement took Guerra by surprise.

"I don't know why they chose me. This is something I didn't expect. It's not like I went out to win this award," Guerra said.

Still, Guerra's history of community service speaks for him. Born in Montemorelos, Nuevo Leon, Mexico in 1932, he graduated in 1947 from La Academia Mercantil de Monterrey.

Guerra first came to the United States to study business administration at Pearce College in Philadelphia. According to what he described as "unseen circumstances," Guerra

enlisted in the U.S Marines in November 1953, serving until his honorable discharge in November 1956.

Guerra then joined the Air Force, and spent eight years of active duty in Texas, Japan, Korea and Alaska. He received his honorable discharge in 1964 with his final tour of duty at Bergstrom Air Force Base in Austin.

During his career Guerra graduated from the Leadership and Management Schools from Camp LeJeune in North Carolina and at Harlingen Air Force Base in Texas.

Guerra also received certificates of morale and ideology and principles of accounting from the University of Texas, and earned food management certification from Del Mar College in Corpus Christi.

Guerra has served as a member of: the American G.I. Forum; the original Austin chapter of the League of United Latin American Citizens; Govalle Elementary School Parent Teacher Association, where he served as its president; and the Booker T. Washington Neighborhood Center.

Currently, Guerra supports St. Julia and Cristo Rey Catholic churches, El Miembro de la Logia Rosacruz since 1967 and Amnesty International.

Guerra's work on the American G.I. Forum attempted to eliminate discrimination of Hispanic veterans.

As he puts it, the Forum served as the only legal recourse for many of these ex-servicemen.

"Many men were discriminated against in the East Side because police mistook them for a criminal with the same last name," Guerra said.

"Often they arrest the wrong guy while the real criminal gets away."

Guerra's work helped him receive a certificate of appreciation from the G.I. Forum. By that time Guerra began another fight, this time to alleviate flooding along Boggy Creek.

"Every time it rained in Austin, we would get the worst of it.

The water in Boggy Creek would flood the neighborhoods, wash out the bridges and completely cover the streets," Guerra said.

The community's drive to control flooding began in 1967, with Guerra leading the way. Often the City Council was not receptive to their requests.

Undaunted, Guerra pressed on, keeping records of every petition, letter and newspaper clipping.

Many of the improvements finally came in the past two years.

After the heavy rains last December, no flooding occurred, much to the relief of the neighbors.

Guerra's persistence earned him a certificate of appreciation the Austin City Council. Other certificates included: the Human Opportunities Corporation of Travis County; the Brackenridge Hospital Board, where he worked to get indignant health care for the needy; the Austin Independent School District, who awarded him 'after the passage of the 1983 school bonds; and the Catholic Diocese of Austin.

Since 1963, Guerra has owned and operated El Azteca Restaurant at 2600 East 7th Street. He also raises livestock and is learning related fields. As a citizen, Guerra wants nothing more than "to work with just causes for betterment of humanity as my health, economy and time allow." For that reason, he tries to put the award in perspective.

"I don't want anyone to get the impression that this award is self-serving. I prefer to think that other people know we had to struggle to get what we wanted," Guerra said.

"I'm only one person. I can only do so much. I look to today's Hispanic leaders to set an example." Among the supporters who have visited Guerra are Texas Railroad Commissioner Lena Guerrero, Travis County Commissioner Marcos DeLeon and State Senator Gonzalo Barrientos.

Guerra hopes to count on the growing number of Hispanic leaders to continue the struggle to improve life for the Hispanic community.

And Guerra can take pride in making an impact in the community. It is a bigger impact than he gives himself credit for.

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Delia S. Ausgust 16, 2016

Matt C. August 19, 2016

This isn't so much a review as a trip down memory lane. El Azteca is slated to close after 53 years of business in east Austin. Like so many long term residents of the east side, increased prices, property values and gentrification have made staying difficult. It's hard to stay the same when the world around you has changed.

When I was a youngster, back in the 70's, we lived deep in the heart of east Austin, in "el barrio" and my dad was the principal at Metz Elementary, near Holly St. Restaurants like El Azteca were where local east side residents gathered for a meal out. The food isn't fancy and it might not be the best Mexican food I've ever had, but it's honest, cheap and has a nostalgia factor for me.

The pink and green walls, the heavily religious decor, the framed family photos...it may as well be my abuela's house.

I mentioned to my dad this morning about the closing and he told me a story about a memory he had of the restaurant and we decided to visit for lunch today. Jorge, the owner, happened to be there and they had a long discussion about the past, the neighborhood and the Austin we once knew. It was bittersweet.

Austin is a different city, that's a fact. There are some great changes.

I for one love the new restaurants and the improved shopping, but there will always be a part of me that misses the sleepy town it once was and wishes the treasures that make this city special weren't disappearing.

32 years ago, as a 9 year old, I made my first trip to El Azteca. I remember when we walked in and my step-father was greeted, by name, by the owner, Mr. Guerra. I also remember thinking how awesome it was that my step-father was on a first-name basis with this really nice restaurant owner. Over the years, as I got older and could better appreciate the variety of meals and the friendliness of the staff, my affection for El Azteca grew. The Guerra family is a welcoming and friendly group. In my mind, there is no better owner and staff anywhere else. They provide more than a great meal, it's a true Austin experience.

Now, that experience will soon be gone. El Azteca is closing next month, in September 2016. It's a sad day for Austin and those that appreciate what Austin once was. The east side of town is no longer what it used to be. The families and businesses that shaped Austin and gave the city its former identity are slowly being pushed out.

I've had many a birthday celebration at El Azteca. This has been my family's go-to place when friends and relatives would come to town.

I've introduced my wife and numerous friends to El Azteca. I have so many good memories here. Thank you, Guerra family, for being such an important part of Austin for over 50 years. May the future give you the same joy you provided to others.

You will be missed.

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Gentrification

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Articles from The Daily Texan, May 2, 2016

By Elena Mejia

Cisco’s Restaurant and Bakery maintains original recipes despite changing environment When the Cisneros family founded Sunny Veil, East Austin’s first bakery, they rode their horses from East Seventh Street to bring freshly baked bread and brunch to the Driskill Hotel.

“Generations of generations have come through here,” said Diana Cisneros, who coowns the restaurant with her husband. “Grandparents come in with their kids and remember their childhood memories.”

After moving to East Sixth Street in 1943 it was renamed Cisco’s Restaurant Bakery & Bar, becoming a hangout for former president Lyndon B. Johnson.

The restaurant is still frequented by football star Earl Campbell.

Hector Martinez, assistant manager at Cisco’s, has worked at the restaurant for more than 20 years. With his mother working as a Cisco’s cook, he grew up with the Cisneros family. He referred to the restaurant as the “land of the Mexicas” because it is one of the few businesses left for Spanish speakers.

According to city demographer Ryan Robinson, almost all of central east Austin and vast stretches of south central Austin have experienced increases in the white population during the last decade. He predicts the city will experience a possible acceleration of this trend.

“There used to be only families [in the neighborhood] and we used to know everyone and now we have no idea,” Martinez 52

said. “This is the only place left where you can enjoy a meal from the old times. They remodeled it and people go out of business."

Cisneros said she has watched the demolition of small businesses to make room for bigger complexes. As the East Austin landscape continues to change, the recipes of Cisco’s Tex-Mex cuisine and ”migas” have remained the same for nearly a century.

“We’re not going to change,” Cisneros said. “But these walls have seen so much — there’s always so much camaraderie and the cooks have been with us for more than 20 years.”

Tex-Mex restaurant El Azteca struggles with commercialization in East Austin

It’s not a neighborhood anymore.”

According to city demographer Ryan Robinson, the amount of families with children was above 32 percent in 1970. By 2010, that figure dropped to 10 percent. The City of Austin website states the city’s rate of diversification has greatly slowed down, most likely due to spiking housing prices.

Because of this population increase, the City of Austin started the East 7th Street Improvement Project in 2009 to upgrade pavement, sidewalks, landscaping and water lines. But the improvements also brought downsides for small businesses. For three years, the project stationed bulldozers in front of El Azteca that didn’t allow customers to park around the area. Before the construction was finished, the city started raising property taxes.

Guerra said the walkways do not receive maintenance and the bricks of the intersection are falling apart.

“A lot of people went elsewhere and didn’t really come back,” Guerra said. “People said it was too much of a hassle.”

El Azteca has been in East Austin for 53 years. Guerra said even though taxes and commercialization are increasing, they will never get rid of their Mexican legacy by becoming a commercial chain.

“We’re invested, not just with time, but with blood, sweat and tears,” Guerra said. “Me and my father worked six days a week and 15 hours a day to keep this place going.”

Growing up in the ’80s, Juan Guerra and his cousins walked from their houses to their family-owned East Austin restaurant every day.

After helping their parents in the kitchen, the cousins played soccer in the streets and attended church with other neighborhood kids.

“Everyone we ran into knew who we were and our family knew their family” Guerra said. “We weren’t scared of anything or anyone. It had that neighborhood feeling.”

In 1963, the Guerra’s grandfather, Jorge, founded their family restaurant, El Azteca. In those days, Guerra said East Austin had more minorities, so it was easier for his family to live in that part Tamale House East of town. But today, the influx of people has caused rising proper- struggles to keep its ty taxes, commercialization and legacy after five gentrification in East Austin. generations of “Now, it’s too expensive for a family to move to the East side,” business Guerra said. “It’s just single couples During the 1950s, Carmen and who don’t have children. You don’t Moses Vasquez wanted to fill Aussee anyone playing on the streets. tin’s Mexican food void with the

flavor from their hometown, San Luis Potosí. They opened Tamale House East in 1958, following their family recipes that survived from generation to generation.

The Vasquez’s grandsons decided to keep the business running when their family members retired, unwilling to let go of their family’s legacy in East Austin.

“We decided to keep the tradition going for the next upcoming generation,” Juan Vazquez, one of the five grandsons running the restaurant, said.

The Tamale House opened in the East side, a low-rent home to most of Central Austin’s minorities. Over the years, an influx of people changed the East side’s original landscape of Victorian homes, gardens and artist warehouses into large-scale condos.

The struggles of a changing economy and the rise of property taxes affected the family-owned restaurant, but Juan’s mother, Diane Vasquez, said Tamale House will continue running for more generations.

“My family has experienced property taxes doubling, tripling, quadrupling,” Diane said.

“But it’s a matter of principle that there are Mexican food restaurants today. Why should we be gone? This is our home.”

Juan and his cousins were raised in an apartment on top of the restaurant where his parents still live. When they grew up, they traveled to Portugal, Spain and Peru, but came back to Austin to hold on to their heritage and incorporate what they learned abroad into the menu.

“The legacy is not something that can be bought,” Juan said. “It’s something family has to build and keep alive. We wanted to keep the tradition because it’s part of our family history, part of Austin’s history and it was something we really didn’t want to let go of.”

This is a view of East Avenue, looking north from the top of Brackenridge Hospital in the 1960s.

For decades, the road that became Interstate 35 in 1962 served as the de facto boundary that isolated Austin's African-American residents to the east. Photo courtesy of the Austin American Statesman

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Printed at St. Edward's University in the DigiLab on Speckletone Starch White French Paper.

Designed and bound by Marissa Nicholas for gdes 3315-01.

December 2016

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