Wall to undergo geophysical tests but has “no imminent risk of collapse”
Los primeros informes detectan materiales obsoletos, pero descartan daños estructurales
“First reports detect obsolete materials, but rule out structural damage”
El muro Marrero no referencia solo un nombre y un lugar. Es también un elemento definitorio del paseo de Las Canteras y un recuerdo del pasado, que grita cada vez que las olas rompen contra él y liberan las cápsulas de espuma mientras el océano riega el paseo. Construido en las primeras décadas del siglo XX, la erosión continua del mar ha comenzado a preocupar en los últimos años a los responsables municipales, hasta el punto de que se ha puesto sobre la mesa la necesidad de renovar sus estructuras.
“The Marrero wall does not refer only to a name and a place. It is also a defining element of the Paseo de Las Canteras and a memory of the past, which screams every time the waves break against it and release the foam spray while the ocean waters hit the walk. Built in the first decades of the 20th century, the continuous erosion of the sea has begun to worry municipal officials in recent years, to the point that the need to renew its structures has been put on the table.”
Built before Paseo de Las Canteras
When the wall was originally constructed by Antonio Marrero Pérez back in 1920, there was no sea defence, Paseo de Las Canteras📍 had not been constructed and the Marrero wall went on to be the standard that was built on over the following century.
El muro Marrero fue una construcción que levantó en torno a 1920 Antonio Marrero, un vecino que compró la casa que está en la esquina de Playa Chica y que pidió permiso al Ayuntamiento para crear un muro que frenara el embate de las olas. Por entonces no había paseo y el mar llegaba literalmente hasta las puertas de las pocas viviendas que se aventuraban a poner coto a la playa.
“The Marrero wall was a construction built around 1920 by Antonio Marrero, a neighbour who bought the house on the corner of Playa Chica and who asked the City Council for permission to create a wall that would stop the onslaught of the waves. At that time there was no walk and the sea literally reached the doors of the few houses that ventured to put a residence on the beach.”
Marrero construyó una pared que en su tramo más alto alcanzaba los cinco metros. «Este muro se convierte en el germen de lo que será el trazado del futuro paseo de Las Canteras», recoge la carta etnográfica del Fondo para la Etnografía y el Desarrollo de la Artesanía Canaria (Fdac). En efecto, la construcción fue imitada posteriormente por los propietarios de otras viviendas y finalmente sobre ellas se asentó la avenida.
“Marrero built a wall that in its highest section reached five meters. “This wall becomes the foundations of what will be the layout of the future Paseo de Las Canteras,” says the ethnographic letter of the Fund for Ethnography and Development of Canarian Crafts (Fdac). In fact, the construction was later imitated by the owners of other houses and finally the avenue was set on them.”
Previous tenders to repair the wall failed to gather interest
€893,629 in contracts up for grabs, yet nobody submits a tender.
De hecho, el Ayuntamiento de Las Palmas de Gran Canaria se planteó hace unos meses un concurso para reparar las defensas del paseo entre las calles Luis Morote y Kant, en una superficie de unos 1.691 metros cuadrados, y un presupuesto de licitación de 893.629 euros, que quedó desierto porque no despertó el interés de ninguna empresa.
“The City Council of Las Palmas de Gran Canaria proposed a few months ago a competition to repair the defences of the promenade between Luis Morote and Kant streets, on an area of about 1,691 square meters, and a tender budget of 893,629 euros, which was left empty because it did not arouse the interest of any company.”
History of the house on the corner: La Casa de la Playa
The house was built around 1900 by Juan Marrero Aguiar back when that area was mainly just sand, originally the house featured a windmill which was used to pump water out from beneath the building.
The house was purchased in 1904 by Dr. Bartolomé Apolinario who built the hospital on the beach, Hospital de San José 📍. The hospital was originally called Casa-Asilo de San José, and yes, asilo does translate to asylum but it’s not like a Bedlam or Gotham Mental Institute for the Criminally Insane, in 19th century Spanish asilo means a sanctuary, shelter or charity hospice.
The property passed into the hands of the Marrero-Pérez family who purchased the land from Dr Apolinario’s estate, with the intent of building a summer house there. Years later Antonio Marrero Pérez built the walls, and now many locals refer to it as La Casa del Muro Marrero, The Marrero Wall House.
The unintentional cultural landmark
Pictured: Josefina de la Torre Millares 1907–2002, poet, singer and actress. Second on the left. Original photo being preserved at Casa-Museo Pérez Galdós📍.
The house on the corner, and the wall built to protect it, didn’t just change the physical look of the promenade, it also played a foundational part in the cultural heritage of Las Palmas in the last hundred years.
In 1927 Josefina and Claudio De La Torre, both of whom had been born into an artistic family, opened up Teatro Mínimo at their home near the house on the corner and put on plays and performances.
Josefina and her brother turned the area into a hub for theatre and music: the house, the wall, the people and their stories: these elements all combine into multiple thriving legacies in that area.
La Casa de la Playa is home to the Muro Marrero Art Gallery📍, it’s that place that’s loud and bustling, if you’ve walked past it you probably looked through the window and wondered what was going on in there!
Las Palmas is the kind of city where authors, artists, musicians, doctors, and adventurers get monuments, artworks, streets and public service buildings named in their honour.
Y mi pensamiento está saltando por el muro…”
“And my thoughts are leaping over the wall…”
Versos y Estampas, Josefina de la Torre, 1927
If you’ve walked along that wall at high tide and thought of jumping in, you’re not alone, many have, leaping over the wall was a rite of passage for the youth of Las Palmas from when it was built through to the 1970s.
In July 1971, a 17 year old called Gabriel Valladares Hernández, misjudged the depth of the water and suffered life-changing spinal injuries, after which diving into the water there became illegal, and the tradition quickly vanished.
If you walk along the wall today you’re walking history, culture and tragedy, yes, it might be a bit weather-beaten and in need of repair, and yes it is ugly, but as it crumbles from the savage toll of nature, it reveals a fascinating history thousands of us walk over every day, and never even think about.
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