was an internationally celebrated storyteller and troubadour whose tales drew upon his
American Indian heritage, his interest in Western history and his empathy for military veterans.
, who had a round face and eyes that disappeared into crinkles when he smiled, called himself a Lepricano. His maternal grandparents were Indian and Irish, and his father was from Cuba. Mendoza grew up in Key West, Fla., and Denver, where he graduated from South High School and Metropolitan State College.
He died Aug. 22 from complications related to a stroke. He was 66.
Mendoza served for four years in the U.S. Navy during the Vietnam War, running river patrols. He suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder that went undiagnosed for many years.
When Mendoza returned home from Vietnam, an anti-war demonstrator spat at him and called him a “baby-killer.”
He said he never forgot that moment. It later inspired him to write a musical, which was staged at the Arvada Center for the Performing Arts in May 1990. It was produced again in an award-winning show presented in 1992 by high school students in Union, S.C.
Mendoza’s storytelling career grew out of a gig at Gussie’s, a now-defunct Westminster steakhouse where he sang folk, opera and popular songs.
But he found the smoke and alcohol a distraction, especially when he tried out his own material. He heard about the annual storytelling conference organized by University of Colorado Denver professor and asked whether she might consider him as a performer.
“I said, ‘You know, I think the conference needs you,’ ” recounted. “Pat said, ‘You’ve never heard me.’ I said, ‘You’ve never played for me.’ He had his guitar with him because he carried it everywhere; it was sort of his security blanket. He picked up his guitar, and there in my office at CU Denver, he started playing and .
“Well, people started crowding around my door. They came from down the hall. They came from classrooms. They applauded. It was just like a concert.”
Mendoza went on to become one of the Denver storytelling conference’s most popular presenters. He taught himself to play the six- and 12-string guitars, the Celtic flute and the Native American flute, and began recording storytelling sessions in which he accompanied himself musically.
That led to other gigs throughout the U.S. and helped establish Mendoza’s reputation as a troubadour with a knack for tailoring his material to each audience.
“He became one of storytelling’s big draws throughout the country,” Livo said. “He found stories wherever he went as he traveled.
“He had a story from back in Tennessee about an elephant that was killed because it had stamped someone to death. It was a case of the elephant being taunted. His story was about what the old-timers had done to the elephant. They had to hire a train to get it from one place to another to hang it. He found stories wherever he went.”
Mendoza’s repertoire included “La Llorona,” the disturbing tale of a woman who drowned her children; “Tale of Sand Creek,” which he expanded into his book “Song of Sorrow: Massacre at Sand Creek”; whaling chanteys and stories from Fiji. His voice was full and buttery, a Lepricano Burl Ives.
Three years ago, as he and his wife, Dona, celebrated their 26th wedding anniversary in Tennessee, Mendoza had a stroke. It led to complications that eventually sent him to the Denver Hospice, where he died.
Survivors include his wife; daughter Mary Mendoza; and brothers Michael and Charles Mendoza.
Claire Martin: 303-954-1477, cmartin@denverpost.com or twitter.com/byclairemartin
