About me
My nickname is Pancho, yet I’m not Mexican. Reason: my father was a friend and equestrian comrade of the late Mexican actor Leo Carillo who played the part of “Pancho” in The Cisco Kid, a Mexican rendition of “Don Quijote”. Leo, (also a Spain land grant heir from his colonial Spanish ancestors…think Carillo State Beach, up the coast from Malibu), told my father, “not Frank” — for my Russian paternal grandmother Fania — “you must call him Pancho”. (For continuity, my collie’s pedegree name was Golden Pancho of Tamarack, and my grandmother named my colt “Pancho Eyelashes”.)
Neighbor Johnny Weissmuller/Tarzan trained me to swim fast, in his style with head up – terribly strenuous. So, I persuaded my father to tell Johnny ease off and, instead, train me for the mile rough-water ocean swim which I enjoyed. My father took me to the Tarzan movie sets. Cheeta hated Boy, but loved me. So Cheeta and I had tea together (both of us using teacup and saucer) on the set at the urgent request of the director in order to calm Cheeta down for the next scenes. Johnny and his lovely wife Allene and my parents took me all over Mexico which became My Place. Later, I matured in Madrid with a love for Spain and flamenco.
Another me: an islander on Isla Mujeres in the Mexican Caribbean, long ago when streets were soft sand, and turtles, conch and big lobster were plentiful. Isla was my home as a youth. There, I met Ramon Bravo, marine cinematographer, naturalist, author, TV personality, and my mentor and best friend. Over decades I returned to spend every Christmas/New Year/Epiphany with my familia de Isla Mujeres. An additional trip was for urgently prescribed hyperbaric treatments at the Island’s Navy Hospital to aid my recovery from a car accident leg injury in New York in 1994 — at that time, hyperbaric therapy was not available to the public in the USA. Mexico is always healing and happy for me.
More about ny name: Samuel Sholkovsky, my paternal grandfather, was a Russian refugee. While he was processed through Ellis Island, the “immigration administrative officials” resisted writing more than one syllable, so his surname was recorded as ”Shiell” -–”Welcome to America”, he was told. I still have Grandpa’s paperwork from his futile attempts to restore his (and my) surname.
I am based in Manhattan…