Joaquin Rivera remembered as a caring mentor

Joaquin Rivera, who died while waiting to see a doctor in a hospital emergency waiting room last Saturday and whose watch was then stolen, was a man whose life was filled with music.

Rivera, 63, used his gift to bring together communities, inspire young people, and try to change the world, said friends, colleagues, and students.

The silver-haired Rivera was rarely seen without his guitar slung over a shoulder, whether performing in the city's Puerto Rican community or fighting for political change elsewhere in the city. "It was not just strumming his guitar," said former City Councilman Juan Ramos, who worked with Rivera in the late '70s through the community group Puerto Rican Alliance. "If there was a demonstration, he was there. If there was a meeting with the Board of Education, he was there."

At Olney High School, where a third of the students are Hispanic, Rivera was a longtime bilingual counselor assistant who worked tirelessly to put students on the road to college.

"He was priceless," said teacher Belinda Heidenreich, at Olney for 13 years. "He was a lifeline for our kids. I know children who would not have graduated - I know it - if not for Mr. Rivera."

Police yesterday arrested a second homeless man in the theft of the watch, which happened after Rivera arrived at Aria Health-Frankford Campus last Saturday evening with pain in his left arm and chest. A third suspect is being sought. The state Health Department is investigating the circumstances of his death and the delay in its discovery by medical personnel.

Rivera's funeral was scheduled for 10 a.m. today at Christ and St. Ambrose Episcopal Church, Sixth and Venango Streets.

Yesterday, at a music store Rivera visited hours before his death, friends and fellow musicians celebrated his life with the form of Puerto Rican music he loved: bomba y plena.

At Centro Musical, near Fifth Street and Lehigh Avenue, they played in front of a large, colorful mural of Rivera as if he were part of the band - as he had been last Saturday, when he played the pandero, a small drum, Christmas caroling Spanish-style.

"He did everything from his heart," said owner Wilfredo Gonzalez. "He didn't want money. He didn't want nothing. He just wanted to help."

Rivera's friends lovingly called him "Barney Rubble," after the Flintstones character, for his compact size, or "little Santa," for his tuft of white hair, his full beard, and the joy he brought with him. Many described the husband and father as a patient and humble man.

Rivera moved to Philadelphia from Puerto Rico when he was 18, bringing the island's traditional folk music with him. One of 11 children, he had taught himself how to play guitar and handheld drum.

In Philadelphia, he started the band Los Pleneros del Batey, in which he wrote and performed plena - music from the mountains of Puerto Rico, charged with a social message.

"It was like a musical newspaper," said Diego Castellanos, producer and host of the local television show Puerto Rican Panorama. "That was his type of music. He did this as a service to the community and to our culture."

Castellanos said Rivera was "one of the few people that kept that music alive," passing it on to the next generation. "This is why what he was doing was so valuable."

Rivera often played plena on the front steps of his Frankford rowhouse, drawing small crowds, said his son Joaquin Jr. "He thought it should be a part of people's lives."

Rivera also played at wedding receptions, funerals, birthday parties, church, libraries, universities, community festivals, and the annual Puerto Rican Day parade.

"He'd play in your living room if you invited him," said Wilfredo Rojas, a longtime friend.

His music was integral to his activism, bringing spirit to the cause.

In the Latino community, Rivera rallied with organizations around housing issues, bilingual education, access to college, police advisory committees, and more. "If you needed him for a good protest, he was there," said Rojas, "and he brought his music."

"He has been a part of every movement in the Puerto Rican community," said Councilwoman Maria Quiñones Sánchez. "That's who he was. He just worked extremely hard. Once he committed, he was committed."

Working with the now-defunct Community Leadership Institute to battle eminent domain in lower North Philadelphia, Rivera wrote the song "Philadelphia, I Choose to Stay in My Home."

"There are not many traditions like that, a song that makes an issue social," said Deborah Koddish of the Philadelphia Folklore Project, who helped Rivera record the song. "He made such a difference."

Rivera also protested weapons-testing on the Puerto Rican island of Vieques, and called for the release of political prisoners. "He used his talent as a way to strengthen the community," said Roger Zepernick, an assistant to the pastor at Christ and St. Ambrose, where Rivera was a member.

He brought "a spirit of strength and hope in a community that has had a pretty tough time."

"North Philadelphia is dangerous for our young people, especially for our men," Zepernick said. "The dropout rate in our schools is incredibly high, and there's a lot of problems with addiction and violence. Joaquin was always trying to help people."

At Olney High, handmade posters featuring an image of Rivera's round, smiling face hung yesterday throughout the building, where, for 32 years, he was a mentor and friend.

Students had written messages like, "We love you, Mr. Rivera"; "We miss you"; "We'll never forget you."

The tributes were created by four female students, who every day, because they loved to, ate lunch with Rivera in his office, which still smelled of the coffee he constantly drank.

Over Chinese food, or traditional Hispanic dishes they'd all bring from home, Rivera would chat with them about their families, goals, and challenges. "When we had a problem or just felt sad, we'd just go to his office," said junior Zoranlly Cedano. "He helped a lot of Spanish people in this school. He was a great man."

"He was like our confidant," chimed fellow junior Liliana Noguecz.

"He was my favorite," said senior Taly Moreno, wearing a black T-shirt with Rivera's smiling image. "I miss him."

Councilwoman Sánchez, who went to Olney years ago, called Rivera her "lifelong mentor."

"He helped hundreds, if not thousands, of students complete high school and go on to college," Sánchez said. "He just believed in the best in everybody, even his most challenging students."

Ellen Espaillat, whose family moved from New York City to Philadelphia after 9/11, said Rivera "helped me adapt to living in Philadelphia. He basically guided me. He will be my mentor for life." The 2005 Olney graduate recently graduated from Rosemont College with a double degree in biochemistry and biology, and plans on medical school.

"He was priceless," Heidenreich, the teacher, said yesterday. "We're hurt. Nobody's going to do what he did for us."