This is the most important date on the González family’s calendar. Not even a business trip to the enterprise in Chile, to the hotel complex in the Canary Islands or to a fishing vessel unloading in Asia, is a valid reason for staying away from the church on this day. Any family member who fails to attend, will never be forgiven.
A few days before the procession, there is an auction to determine who will be allowed to carry the Madonna in and out of the church. Everyone knows that the González family will win the bidding round; nobody dares to outbid them, unless the family itself grants its permission. The González family has paid almost EUR 10,000 for the right to handle the figure of the saint, but for the patriarch Florindo González Otero faith doesn’t have a price. The Madonna will give the family’s ships protection.
In the 1970s one of their fishing vessels sailed into a storm, the ship started taking in water and the lives of the crew of 30 were in danger. When Florindo González Otero lost contact with the ship, he went to church, said his prayers to the Madonna, promised to be true to her for as long as he lived, carry her in and out of the church, and to support the congregation financially. For that reason there is a picture of the saint in all the family’s offices and ships. On the Thunder the Madonna figure was hanging on the bridge.
August 15 is also the day of O Carballiño’s octopus festival. Although this unremarkable town is located 80 kilometres from the coast, it adorns itself with the title of “Galicia’s Octopus Capital”. When the Cistercian monks established themselves outside the city in the eleventh century, the coastal villages were obliged to pay tithes to the monastery. The most impoverished paid in octopus which was dried, preserved or processed in O Carballiño. Encouraged by the local octopus industry, in the 1960s the González family bought a boat to fish octopus off the coast of Morocco. They quickly expanded into cod fishing in Canadian waters and off the coast of South Africa. After having lost their quotas in South Africa, the González ships moved further south and west. Soon the family had its own fleet and freezing plant in Chile.
The family company’s express philosophy was to explore new markets, and at most they owned five vessels and had 500 employees, traded and exported octopus, toothfish, cod and shellfish. Soon the family was among the richest and most respected in sleepy O Carballiño. From their profits they made donations to a football school, theatre productions, music groups and the church.
More than one year after the wreck of the Thunder, on 15 August 2016, the family was honoured with the city’s award of distinction for its work “as a financial impetus for the region and the close collaboration with the local governmental authorities”. During the award ceremony, the head of the family Florindo González and his eldest son of the same name stood each on either side of the city’s mayor.
“We are proud and we have earned the award. It is recognition for having struggled for so many years,” the son said in his thank-you speech.
Nobody in the auditorium noticed that the relationship between father and son was cool and aloof. The constant accusations that the González name was connected with la mafia gallega had plagued the 86-year-old patriarch for many years.
It is a mild Friday evening in October. In just a few days the foliage will begin to fall on Avenida do Parque – the best address in O Carballiño. The street is a lush bright spot in a city so dominated by dogmatic and effective 1950s architecture that tourists are advised not to visit here. On Avenida do Parque all the villas are the same, light sandstone colour with red tiled roofs and are fenced in by wrought-iron picket fences. In most of the gardens there is room for a swimming pool and a two-car garage. By the window on the ground floor of one of the villas, the enterprising son Florindo González Corral sits leaning forward and talking on the telephone.
Since we contacted him by email for the first time in March 2015, Florindo González Corral has denied having any knowledge of the Thunder.
“The company I represent, Frigoríficos Florindo, is a first class food commerce company, both internationally and nationally. All our activities are legal and regulated by the authorities in the countries in which we operate. I would therefore advise against your publicizing my name in connection with illegal fishing, the vessel and the company you mention. If you do so, you will be held liable for all the damage you inflict on me and my company’s reputation,” he writes in an email.
In a subsequent email he asks that we not mention his name at all. Then he stops responding.
Now he comes strolling calmly down the driveway. In the villa neighbourhood it’s so quiet that his steps can be clearly heard. He is wearing the same type of button-down blue shirt that he wears in official contexts. In his right hand the ember of a cigarillo glows.
“We’ve come to talk about the Thunder …”
It’s as if he has been waiting for this moment. He is accommodating and offers us small cigars from a box. The cigarillo, the heavy gold chain, the open shirt front and the red-cheeked face give him the look of a middle-aged man about town.
“I have nothing to do with the Thunder. I have no connection with the ship. I know it was an old Norwegian ship that came to Spain with papers from Panama, and then it sailed to Mauritius. There were some Asians who bought it. They were from Singapore, I believe.”1
“You were in a meeting with the insurance company as a representative for the Thunder’s controlling
