Skip PBS Navigation
Visit Your Local PBS Station PBS Home PBS Home Programs A-Z TV Schedules Watch Video Donate Shop PBS Search PBS

You are viewing the non-Flash Latin Music USA website. For a richer experience, make sure that you have version 9.0.115.0 or higher of the Flash plug-in installed. You can download the Flash plug-in for free here.

Go Behind the Scenes

Artists: Daddy Yankee

Essay | Video Transcript

Hanging with Daddy Yankee
by Producer Adriana Bosch

We filmed Daddy Yankee in the Presidential Suite on the 12th floor of La Concha, a sleekly remodeled 1950s hotel bordering the beach at El Condado, San Juan's waterfront neighborhood.

Outside the balcony window, the Caribbean Sea shimmered in the afternoon sun. Underneath the balcony, an empty scaffold swung from ropes.

The interview was going well, though with the usual small problems -- light changes, the reflection of Daddy's glasses, the fight in the suite next door. All the while, I was struggling to bring my middle-aged demeanor in tune with Daddy's cool. Earlier I had asked him what to call him: "Mr. Ayala? " "Mama, you can call me Daddy," he'd said.

Suddenly, at the bottom of the window, I saw -- a head? First only the top was in view, then more and more. I signaled to my cinematographer, Andrés Sánchez. "Not in the shot," he said, as Daddy continued explaining his life and his music. "One more second," I prayed. "Let Daddy finish before the scaffold enters the shot. Go tight. Go tight!"

BAM BAM BAM BAM! The window-washer banged on the window like a man possessed. Half in shock, half amused, I went up to him and asked "Can you wait just a little longer?" "Not you," the man said, "HIM HIM!" He had seen Daddy Yankee reflected in a mirror on the opposite wall, and thought nothing of banging, with all his might, against the window, while hanging outside the 12th Floor.

Daddy got up. "See?" He said, "Mi gente. That's my people." And walked toward the sunburned, hysterically happy window washer with his hand extended.

I got a napkin for an autograph.

Later, all I could hear was the guy yelling, crying, on his cell phone to his incredulous young daughter: "I saw Daddy Yankee! Sí, sí Daddy Yankee. ¡Un autografo, sí!"

We shut the window and went on with the interview.

Explore Further: