Once upon a time there was a very singular mayor in Las Palmas de Gran Canaria. He was a gentleman, well-versed culturally, and had had a respectable education; he was known for his wry humour, a confirmed bachelor, and before turning into a gentleman he was a boy from a good family. A family with pedigree: little Ambrosio was the son of José Hermenegildo Hurtado de Mendoza Tate and Carmen Pérez Galdós, one of the writer Benito Pérez Galdós’s sisters; he was born in Las Palmas de Gran Canaria and his talent was of universal rank. Not surprisingly, Ambrosio, born in 1850, went to a good school, San Agustín (the first private centre in the Canaries, located in the historic city centre, the school where his uncle, the famous Don Benito, also studied). His school-days over, this child grew up and travelled to Madrid to take a degree in Civil and Canon Law at the Central University. And then, almost completely evolved into the above-mentioned gentleman, he returned to his home city to practise as a lawyer, became the dean of the College of Lawyers, and entered politics, in León y Castillo’s pro-active party. All of this, in short, led him to become that singular mayor.

Don Ambrosio came to take up the position of mayor in a rather bizarre manner: on 15th May, 1903, the then occupant of the post, Juan Verdugo, was suspended by the Civil Governor, and it was the dean of the College of Lawyers who was chosen to replace him. He was the seventh mayor in six years: a difficult post to fill. What’s more, in 1902 the Restoration of the Royal House of the Borbons had begun, with the accession of Alfonso XIII to the throne, and thus the start of a new period of parliamentary monarchy, with repositioning on the national political stage. Ambrosio Hurtado de Mendoza seemed to be yet another name on an eternally rotating list. But this was not the case: he successfully remained as mayor until 1908. Later he was a councillor of the first Island Corporation formed by the Gran Canaria Government, a member of the national parliament, and, with the Royal Economic Society of Friends of the Country, he became a lifelong advocate for the idea behind today’s Puerto de la Luz y de Las Palmas, the port area. Without this port it is unlikely that the current cosmopolitan and modern city of Las Palmas de Gran Canaria would have come into being.

As mayor, Ambrosio Hurtado de Mendoza set his personal vision of life in public administration in motion. This meant uprightness with regard to work and working hours. Among his actions, we can list the reorganisation of city planning for the street called Calle Mayor de Triana, and the first development of the square which now bears his name: Plaza Hurtado de Mendoza, which, at the other side of the Guiniguada Ravine, opposite the historic Vegueta neighbourhood, leads to the Triana neighbourhood.

Next to this area, also popularly known as the Plazoleta de las Ranas - (Frog Square) - because of the statues of the two amphibians coming out of the water in its emblematic fountain, there is a sculpture commemorating the unique figure of Don Ambrosio. A small funeral obelisk has a medallion at its centre with the effigy of the old mayor, accompanied by an eye-catching sculpture of a woman. Why is this woman represented there? More to the point, who is she?

It is, at the very least, a story worth remembering. Don Ambrosio’s well-known uprightness was applied to his work, his diary, his meals, always following the same timetable. But also in his leisure time, where he was rigorous in this respect. He was an active participant in the typical enlightened early twentieth century social gatherings in the city. He always had time for these, in particular because he steered well clear of marriage, avoiding the idea of having a family.

In fact, though, Don Ambrosio did have a recognised love interest, which, with extreme amiability on the part of his peers, was defined as platonic. This was none other than the love he had for Loreto Martín Castillo; this woman was a real character, and, in another sphere, also a very popular personality in the city at that time.

“La Loreto”, as she was commonly known, was none other than the madame of a well-known brothel located near the Plaza de Santo Domingo, right in the centre of Vegueta. A brothel which had been running since the mid eighteenth century, and which would continue open a long time after Hurtado de Mendoza ceased to be mayor.

Don Ambrosio and Doña Loreto were, it could be had on good authority, more than just good friends. To the extent that the house in Vegueta actually played an unsuspected role in the first visit made by a King of Spain to the Canaries. This happened on the night of 31st March, 2006, when the young Alfonso XIII (aged 20) arrived on Gran Canaria some days before schedule as a result of a storm diverting his ship from Tenerife. The surprised mayor played the part of host for His Majesty with great good humour, and gave him a guided tour of the city as well as sharing conversation… and fine wine. So, Don Ambrosio crossed the Guiniguada Ravine once more on his way to La Loreto’s house, only this time he had a royal companion. It was the only occasion on that visit to the Islands that Alfonso XIII slept away from his ship. Back in Madrid, the monarch decorated Hurtado de Mendoza with the title of “Gentil Caballero”.

A “caballero” or gentleman who continued to maintain his lifestyle and his political vitality until his death in 1922. His city didn’t want to bury his memory. Instead, Alfredo Neri, the well-known sculptor from Bologna, an expert handler of the famous Carrara marble, was given the task of creating a sculpture to pay homage to Don Ambrosio. It was finished in 1923, and later erected in the place it occupies today, in the square bearing the name of the singular mayor. And there is still stands in all its splendour, even more so since it was restored in 2020 by the Gran Canaria capital’s own government.

Two details about this work are worth mentioning, which reveal the depth of the relationship between Ambrosio and Loreto, and which also show the esteem the mayor had gained among his own fellow citizens. On the one hand, the majestic presence of the woman in the sculptural group. And also, the fact that the sculpture was financed by popular subscription, on the initiative of the mayor’s friends. With his secretary, Eduardo Benítez Inglott heading the subscription, and with great support in response, including significant contributions from personalities such as Tomás Miller, the businessman, or Federico León García, the doctor and surgeon, who donated a thousand pesetas, a huge sum for the time.