Issue date: Nov 7, 1999

In this article:
His life lately has been as crazy as his theme song
He got his start at age 6
No one has captivated fans the way he has

n a tiny private island five miles off the coast of Puerto Rico, you can almost feel the ghosts of Frank Sinatra, Elvis Presley, Jim Morrison and John Lennon. It's as if they were here because Latin sensation Ricky Martin is here, explaining how he uses their lives to guide him through the thrills and hazards of superstardom. He has been reading these singers' biographies, looking for lessons.

"I pray for control of my emotions," Martin says, leaning into the sticky night air on the patio of a wealthy friend's house. "All this glamour, adrenaline and euphoria that fame presents can seduce and destroy you if you're not in touch with your feelings. I don't want to sound dramatic, but it can kill you." Martin may be the world's most famous singer at the moment, and, at 27, he's smart and mature enough to know he has to be very careful -- in how he conducts himself and how he plans his career. Luckily, he's had almost a lifetime to prepare for icon status.

To understand this, you must come to Puerto Rico, his native island, which has cheered him on since he was a cute 12-year-old in the Latin boy group Menudo. Wherever Martin goes in this U.S. commonwealth, girls cry with joy and old people touch his head to bless him. Young men flood hair salons to copy his blond-streaked hairstyle, and mothers swear Martin's videos make their babies coo. Again and again, Puerto Ricans use the word "proud" to describe their feelings for him. When they boast that his current U.S. tour sold out in minutes, you'd think they were talking about their own son.

Puerto Ricans are protective of Martin. They're upset when comics such as Chris Rock zing their hero for supposedly having a one-song repertoire: the ubiquitous Livin' La Vida Loca. They point out that Martin was a huge Latin star, with 16 million in solo sales, long before his sizzling performance at last February's Grammy Awards, when the rest of America finally discovered him. "Americans think Ricky popped up from nowhere," snaps Nilsa Castro, a flight attendant. She's grateful Rickymania finally has hit the United States. "Ricky carries a positive image everywhere he goes. He even brings our flag to pose for pictures. He's our ambassador."

Martin remains uncommonly loyal to his roots. When he returns to Puerto Rico, he won't hold a jammed press conference in San Juan. He'd rather hire a helicopter to bring local media out to this little private island to say hello. Everyone gets to hang out with him for a bit, one on one. Says his personal manager, Josˇ Vega, "He wants them to see he's the same guy who will always talk to them." By extension, of course, he's talking to his 4 million countrymen -- "my family." And they never tire of the story: Loco boy makes good.

Martin is dressed casually in sandals, his shirt untucked. His life lately has been as crazy as his theme song, yet he seems relaxed. He recently visited India and discovered it's vital to be alone 20 minutes each day. "I learned the beauty of silence. In solitude, locked in your room, you start knowing yourself better. It's cathartic for your brain. You're purifying it. In those sacred moments, you start creating."

Despite his everywhere-you-look fame, he insists he can go unnoticed. "I'll sit in a park and just look at people. You need that simplicity." The day before this fall's MTV Video Music Awards show, when all of New York seemed focused on him, his handlers at one point couldn't find him. He grins. "I wear a hat. I sit on a bench. Yes, I can do it."

He's mostly mum about his love life, saying he's too busy to date, and asks the media to accept that his sexuality is his business. Unsolicited, though, he calls "the night I lost my virginity" one of the greatest moments in his life, on a par with the Grammys.

He got his start at age 6, in TV commercials. After joining Menudo in 1984, Ricky quickly fell in love with the spotlight, the screaming girls. He didn't even mind the schooling in hotel rooms: "The education was really intense. Even on weekends, we learned." But he hated the regimentation. "My personality was sabotaged in the band. We were told what to sing and wear, what haircut to have. I didn't know who I was. When I left the band in '89, I had to think, 'Do I like this haircut? Do I like these jeans?' "

He struggled in a tug-of-war between his divorced parents -- things are smoother now -- then spent a few years in New York, finding himself. He built a solo career in canny steps: a role in the soap General Hospital, four months starring on Broadway in Les Misˇrables, constant touring of Latin America. In 1993, Martin took a small plane to an appearance. After dropping him there, the plane took off, then crashed, killing the pilot. "It was a spiritual awakening," Martin says. "Why are we put on the planet? Perhaps for me, my mission is to educate people about the beauty of Latin music."

There's been great media buzz that Martin is leading a Latin revolution in America -- and, yes, Latin music sales are up -- but no one has captivated fans the way he has. The truth is, Martin is fiercely driven, and unapologetic about it. His father, a psychologist, drummed into him that he must strive for greatness. "My dad said if you're mediocre, you might be happy, but it's a silly sort of happiness. It feeds pleasure, but not self-esteem."

Martin hopes talent and "spirituality" will enable him to overcome the dangers of fame. His role models are the Beatles. "They were beat up in the beginning for being 'bubble gum.' Now, look at their influence." He dreams of a 50-year career, like Sinatra's.

On the flip side, he has studied the darkest sides of stardom: reading about the self-destructiveness of Jim Morrison, who described himself as "a fiery comet, a shooting star" before he died at age 27. Martin is 27 and doesn't want to be a fast-moving comet. "My best moment is right now. Before in my life, I was thinking too much about the past and future. I was there and there, and not here, in the present."

Martin believes Elvis Presley's life fell apart because he lost control, letting indulgent handlers run his personal life and letting a bullying manager sacrifice music for the sideshow of B-movies. That's why "Ricky decides everything," says Vega, his manager. Indeed, Martin has a motto: "Do one thing at a time and do it right." That's why he's concentrating on music, even turning down movie roles being thrown at him.

It's dark now, a million stars fill the Caribbean sky, and it's time for Martin to helicopter off this tiny island. He's off "to the big island to see my mother," he says. That would be Puerto Rico. But his mind is stateside, where his U.S. tour has been mounted as a grand and hectic extravaganza. "We're doing a different city every other day. The show is 21Ś2 hours and really intense. I have 10 changes of wardrobe. If I don't focus, I won't make it. I have to be like I'm in the military." On the Ricky Martin tour, there's no question who's the general.

Go to the top

Contributing Editor Jeffrey Zaslow's last cover story for USA WEEKEND profiled actor Mike Myers.