The following is an interview that took place between me and my co-worker, Danielle, during our night shift at the School of Cinematic Arts Operations desk:

Danielle: “The Cuco is a Puerto Rican legend that basically, when a child misbehaves, the Cuco lives somewhere in the house or… in the surrounding area, and it’s basically, ‘if you don’t do what I say, the Cuco’s gonna get you.’ And it’s… like,  shapeless, and it’s whatever the child imagines it to be– to maximize the fear, and for them to do whatever it is that you want them to do.”

Me: “So, why do you know or like this piece?”

Danielle: “I know it because–um– a few years ago my friend… said it to her younger cousin–um–she, like, brought her cousin to my house and the little girl wasn’t listening, and my friend was like, ‘You have to listen to me or the Cuco’s gonna get you!’ And I was like, ‘What are you talking about?’ and my grandma from upstairs, like– heard it and, like, perked up and she was like, ‘What are you talking about?’ and my friend was like, ‘The Cuco.” My grandma was like, ‘Don’t say that in my house!” And I said, ‘Well do you know what this is?’ and my grandma was like, ‘Yeah, like, it’s a monster that my–,” –her mother had frightened her with, and so she promised herself she would never tell her kids about it. And so the first time we had heard it was because my friend used it–um– and my grandma was kind of upset. Uh, but that’s also kind of why I like it is because… I found it funny (laughs) that my grandma was personally offended to hear the name under her roof.”

Me: “That’s really cool. And, did you say you were from Puerto Rico?”

Danielle: “I’m from New York, my grandma’s from Puerto Rico. But, my heritage is Puerto Rican.”

I found it really interesting how individually Danielle, her friend, and her grandmother each had different ways of looking at how the Cuco affects people. Danielle’s friend used it as a means to babysit her cousin, while her grandmother sought to abandon the legend in how she raised her children because of whatever negative effects it had on her childhood. On the other hand, Danielle saw the Cuco as amusing, and a fun way to get to know her family’s, and more specifically her grandmother’s, view of their heritage.

The following is from an interview between me and the Deacon, Paul Pesqueira, over at the Caruso Catholic Center. He was on his lunch break along with a few others. He told me about a legend which his dad used to tell him during his scandalous days.

Paul: “My dad used to tell us, when we started drinking at 17, 18, 19 years old– I know you’re not supposed to drink ’til you’re 21, but, you know, we’d drink earlier– that you had to be careful… because if you got drunk, that– and you passed out, that “The Careterro” would come and get you. And he would put you in the wheelbarrow and he’d take you away. So, you better be able to hold your liquor and not get drunk and pass out, because if you did, The Carreterro would come and put you in his wheelbarrow, and you didn’t know what would happen to you.”

Me: “Did you ever get– get caught?… By The– by The Carreterro?”

Paul: “I got drunk and I passed out but The Carreterro never got me.”

Me: “Oh, you got lucky!”

(We laughed)

Paul: “So that’s my story.”

It was interesting to think about whether such a tale actually had any impact on the kids whom it was told to, seeing as they were already in doubtful years at that point. Also, as a little bonus piece of folklore, Deacon Paul was pronouncing “wheelbarrow” like “wheelbarrel”. I know I used to do that all the time.

The following is from an interview between me and my friend, Nina, during her lunch break in the upstairs office of the Caruso Catholic Center. She shared with me a legend that she knew from Texas.

Nina: “Okay, so, when I was younger, everyone always told me about the screaming bridge, in Texas. Um, it’s in Decatur, I think, and basically… there was a group of high school students who were traveling for a sporting event– I think it was cheerleaders– um, and they were… I don’t know if they were going to or from the city, but basically they were on this bridge, it was stormy, and I guess they, like, saw something– the bus driver saw something in the middle of the road, and so it swerved off, and they fell off the bridge… and, like, everyone died. And now, if you go back there, some people say that they can, like, hear the cheerleaders, like, on the bridge, like, screaming as they were falling to their death.”

Me: “Oh geez. Have you ever been there?”

Nina: “Um, no I haven’t. But, I’ve heard about it. But, like, I probably wouldn’t go, just ‘cuz I get freaked out by that kind of stuff– but… yeah, it’s a true story.”

Me: “Are you from Texas, or…?”

Nina: “Yes. I’m from Texas. So it’s probably… like, that bridge is probably like an hour and a half from my house. But, like, I never ventured over there. But, see, I don’t think… because that kind of goes into– it’s like a very rural area, so it’s, like, not necessarily like a well-traveled… um… spot.”

Me: “And who did you, like, first hear that from?”

Nina: “I had heard it from my friends in high school. (laughs) Yeah, those were the stories we would tell when we were, like– when we were also in high school and, like, traveling to different things: the story of the screaming girl on the bridge.”

It must’ve felt very odd to consider yourself living in such close proximity to a haunted location growing up. This story reminded me of something my mom told me about a small bridge on which you could supposedly hear singing as you passed over it. Not quite as grim as the screaming bridge but definitely in the same vein.