RAM Remembered

from mysanantonio.com:

Taco Land owner remembered

Web Posted: 06/25/2006 12:00 AM CDT

Sheila Hotchkin
Express-News Staff Writer

Ramiro "Ram" Ayala, who for more than three decades presided over the city's underground music scene from a corner barstool at Taco Land, returned for good Saturday when his family scattered his cremated ashes into the San Antonio River beside the bar.

The family held the low-key funeral a year to the day Ayala died in a robbery at Taco Land. The shooting also killed doorman and Ayala friend Douglas Morgan and injured bartender Denise "Sunshine" Koger.

Ayala's wife, children and grandchildren gathered at the bar Saturday afternoon. They lit a candle on the patio and hung a wreath of red and yellow flowers, adorned with a ribbon bearing the words "Miss You Dad." A grandson, who brought an electric guitar, offered up what might be the last guitar solo performed on Taco Land's stage.

Then they gathered on the West Grayson Bridge and listened to a prayer. Ayala's wife, Agnes, poured his ashes into the water, and his children and grandchildren tossed pink and yellow roses in after them.

"He told me, 'When I die, I want to be cremated, and I want my ashes scattered in the river by Taco Land,'" Agnes Ayala said afterward. "I can see that. This is where he wanted to be. He loved his place.

"I just needed to do this, like it wasn't over until I carried out his wishes and did this for him."

Ramiro Ayala and his bar took on special significance for many in San Antonio over the decades, providing a haven for the homeless, a gathering place for all kinds of people and a stage for countless bands, from the very good to the truly awful.

Much has changed at Taco Land since the death of its gruff 72-year-old patriarch. Inside, the low ceilings, red walls and mismatched tile floor are the same. But the warped pool table is gone, as are the jukebox with its idiosyncratic music collection and the picnic tables where patrons enjoyed their longnecks.

Outside, a chain-link fence strung with yellow tape reading "Sheriff's Line — Do Not Cross" surrounds the patio.

"We called it a dive anyway," Roland de la Cruz, guitarist for los Mescaleros, said by phone Friday. "But to see it with weeds growing out, just sitting there empty, 'No Trespassing' signs ..." He paused, absorbing the strangeness of the image: "Because everybody was welcome there."

Ayala's portrait has been added to the front of the building, and a section of brick is painted white so people can add messages beneath the words: "In Memory of Ramiro 'Ram' Ayala. From Your Friends Who Love You Always Brother."

One offers this theory: "Taco Land is a state of mind. Ram is our governor."

Another says: "One more time, over and over again into eternity."

Also on display outside Taco Land is the front of the San Antonio Express-News from June 24, 2005, the day Ayala died. It recalls a happier event: the Spurs' third NBA title in seven years, won just hours before the shooting.

That night, police said, Ayala's attackers drank and played pool inside Taco Land before robbing the bar and shooting Ayala and his two employees. Fingerprints found on a pool cue matched those of Joseph Gamboa, 23, who was later identified in photo lineups along with Jose Najera, 30.

Each man is charged with two counts of capital murder and one count of attempted capital murder from that night. Both are scheduled to appear before 379th District Judge Bert Richardson on Aug. 14.

Also in court will be Ayala's wife and children, who will appear Tuesday before Bexar County Probate Judge Polly Jackson Spencer, who may at that time name Ayala's legal heirs and choose an administrator for his estate. If the Taco Land property were to be sold, the administrator would handle the details.

Bands that once played Taco Land have moved on to other places; for example, the Limelight on North St. Mary's Street, which opened months after Ayala's death.

Erik Jarvis, who books bands in San Antonio through North Carolina-based Tone Deaf Touring, said he now works primarily with another North St. Mary's venue: the Sanctuary. But Taco Land was unique, Jarvis said, and Ayala distinguished himself among club owners by being open to new things.

Ayala always seemed partial to "anything really raucous," Jarvis said.

Though more established acts played Taco Land, the bar also provided opportunities for newer bands. No demo tape was necessary; Ayala just handed band members a calendar, and they chose an open date, los Mescaleros' de la Cruz said.

"That was what was great about it — that anybody could play. Just sign up, and you've got yourself a gig," he said.

Bart Nichols, bassist for the Swindles and Los #3 Dinners, said it will be tough to find a spot as band-friendly as Taco Land, where Nichols spent some of his most enjoyable nights as a musician.

"It's real simple: The place, Taco Land, just by itself has no charm. It's not like we went there for the clean restrooms or anything," Nichols said. "It was just to be in that glow around Ram. The man was just a very warm, kind individual."

On Saturday, Agnes Ayala said her family knew much of that kindness but little else about his life at the bar.

Similarly, she said, Taco Land patrons would have been amazed if they had seen her husband — always "Ramiro" to her, never "Ram" — at home, sprawled on the rug and playing Monopoly and coloring pictures with his grandchildren.

But the family accepts both "Ramiro" and "Ram," Agnes Ayala said.

"This was his life, and he put on a show," she said. "He walked in here, and he was 'Ram.'"

As the family prepared to leave Taco Land, eldest son Manuel, 43, leaned over the side of the bridge and spotted a visible circle of his father's ashes on the river bottom.

"They didn't float," he said, amazed.

His 42-year-old brother, Ramiro Ayala Jr., came to look: "That's weird, right?"

They stared for a few seconds at their father's remains, come to rest beside Taco Land.

Concluded Manuel: "That's what he wanted."