There is a tenuous link between the King of Joy and another monarchical figure: in 1893, King Carlos awarded his relative João Carlos de Sousa Morais, composer and conductor of the São João da Madeira Music Band, with the title of Knight of the Order of Santiago. Manuel Morais began his life in show business at a very early age: “My father organized small dances at home, charging ten cents at the door. We were a large family and needed help. I sang a few songs with my sisters, and my aunt Laura made paper dresses suitable for children.”

It is in this black-and-white Portugal that Manuel begins to leverage his surroundings. He does odd jobs for his uncle—editor of Rádio Nacional magazine—as a courier who picks up photographs of the shows playing in theaters, possibly already dreaming of being among those beauties with big hair and men with smooth voices. It was at the age of 12, in the radio contest À procura de uma estrela (Looking for a Star), that his career took off. “I came in one of the top places and won 50 escudos, which was very good for the time,” he says. He was recruited for Fernando Gonçalves' radio productions, who immediately gave him his stage name: “I will introduce you as the King of Joy.” Everything else happened at a galloping pace, between performances at pilgrimages, popular opera, and revue – “I performed everywhere; there was one day when I did eight shows, four in the morning and four in the afternoon.”

A master of ceremonies possessed by joy would inevitably be associated with São João. As a sign of good fortune, Manuel's name rang out at a São João festival when he was only four years old. “At my first São João, I wandered around the festival following the music, and at one point I couldn't see my parents anymore. They had to announce over the microphones that there was a lost boy (laughs).” Since then, he has had the honor of being the godfather of several marches. He has even had to defend himself in this role: ”There was more localism at the festivals at that time. One year, when I arrived at a square, I heard some people saying that I was ugly because I didn't march with the Sé” – but Manuel only had to hum a song from when he was godfather for the Sé for them to remember that he had once earned them first place in the marches.

As for São João today, the King of Joy reassures us that “not much has changed,” but he still recalls the classic route where “people stopped at the parties on all the islands, and from Fontainhas to Ribeira, the whole alley was crowded until morning; some people fell asleep in the square, well fed and well drunk (laughs).”