He possessed a dazzling humanity. He never boasted of his merits or contributions. A friend to friends and a friend to those who weren't. There was no room in his being for selfishness or envy, and incredibly, he never claimed anything for himself, even though we all knew he had been the great champion of Celia Cruz in Mexico for her debut album (and for salsa itself), "Hommy." He wasn't Johnny Pacheco, no sir. He never spoke ill of Cuba like Celia did, because he went to that island to study, so as not to resemble the opportunists of salsa (a story that is still being written) or those who lived off the work of Arsenio Rodríguez, Chapottin, Cuní, Lilí, and even Benny Moré's repertoire.
Larry was the great discoverer of Ismael Miranda and the great creator of "Señor Sereno," "Abran Paso," and "La Cartera." And although they were salsa songs, anyone who knows how to read the lyrics will notice the social commentary embedded within them. Seeing him accompany the Orquesta Aragón in Caracas, in a state of ecstasy, confirmed his unwavering authenticity.
Larry Harlow was a decent guy. Very decent, humble, and fair. Anyone in Venezuela who knew him knows we're not just flattering someone who's passed away. He died five years ago, on August 20, 2021.
There will be no way to forget him because he was avant-garde, authentic, a total creator and loyal to himself, something that is very scarce now.
You haven't gone away at all, Larry.
@lildelvalle
