HomeMy WebLinkAboutM-91-0155CITY OF MIAMI, FLORIDA
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DATE : I
January
FILE
31, 1991
Jager
City Ma ager
suaJEcr
FROM :
REFERENCES
Xavier L, Suarez,
I
I
Mayor
ENCLOSURES
I
I
Please schedule for
commission consideration
the attached
petition, by the "Comite
Pro-Rescate de Raices y
Monumentos —
Historicos Cubanos en el
Mundo," seeking to have
a street co -
designation in honor of Howard F. Anderson.
Supporting materials
are enclosed herewith for distribution.
XLS/lr
Jl
UPI
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Inw t� r_
9 1
.�p
n s.
Ceyo Nueso-Key West
P.O. box 4869
Key West. Ff. 33040
Tel.: (305) 204-6166
Miami
P.O. box 421028
Miami, Ff. 33142
Tel.: (305) 641-6634
COMW VCV~Aft ale M&N
r wartumerrites hlst6r%trs
Cabanas err of jounde
MEMORANDUM
January 289 1991
T 0: Honorables Mayor and Commissioners of the
City of 14iami, Florida
Mr. Xavier Suarez, 111ayor
Dr. Mirian Alonso, Commissioner
Mr. Victor de Yurre, Commissioner
14r. miller Davikin, Commissioner
Mr, J. L. Plummer, Commissioner
SUBJECT: PETITION; TO NAME A STREET OF THE CITY OF
IiIAI.:I 111TH THE NAME OF I-10WARL F. ANDEi;SOI:
Honorables Mayor and Commissioners:
By resolution of the Executives of this organization
COMMITTEE PRO -RESCUE OF CUBAN ROOTS AND HISTORICAL
CUBAN MONUMENTS IN THE VORLD, hereby' requests that
you kindly name a street of the City of Kiami, Flo-
rida, with the name of the Idorteamerican patriot
HOI!ARD F. ANDERSON:, whom was put in jail, and after
a court martial, executed by shooting; on April 19,
1961, accused of conspiracy with the C.I.A. (Central
Intelligence Agency) against the Communits regime of
Fidel Castro.
Mr. Anderson emigrated to Cuba in 1943, where he
married and constituted his family with a daughter
named Miss Bonnie Anderson, which actually works at
Channel 4, N.B.C. from this city of Miami,Flrida.
Naming a street with the -name 1101ARD F. ANDERSON,;
you will honoring his memory and perpetuated it as
a recognition of the participation of an American,
martyr in the effort (frustrated) to liberate Cuba
from the Communist'tiranny of Fidel Castro.
"To honor, honors
Jose Marti
Enclosed two periodicals about this historic event
appeared at The Miami.Herald and in "Diary of a
Treason" from Dr. Leovigildo Ruiz.
Respectfully, I
MEMORANDUM TO .
SUR.TECT: PETITION TO NAME
1
for de 1'urre, r.
President
Dr. Arnhilda Badia
Secretary of Culture
303 %4VLI2z336 C�p- 7 P"70 wc-�, I -,
-
Father Ramon O'Farril]Airs
Secretary Religious Af
r
`Ma,rio fohteIa
F}nan a ,SecretaryJkt\
US G�Jk SSSi'� ✓�I
Ol i Galego
Min tS ' SeQtary
lA ber o. Attorney
Dom ngo Rosillo's son
Committee Member
3t'S bq3 gb1b
1 .Q }�
3G5 SS/ 6�87
Reinaldo`Pit o,
General 'Secrete •y
30.5 Yp�i �
Te ,�v. Marti ,:�., �•-�_
Secretary Ecumenic Af airs
3C.5 1 S5 — L 33�
It
Mal�
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Igoe los' pueblos del.,mundo'"no aceptan Is _afirmacion de la' inevitabilidad
historica de la Revolucioh corannista.
,.
Lo que su Gdb!erno eras is tueation propia suya to que pace en el'
-
:esi.asunto , que-tonderne al ;mundo. La Gran Revolucibn>'en la historia del
hombre; en ei pasad0, en el presente y;en el,futuro,pes Is Revolucion de los que
estairi decididos a`ser fibres
' tt
1
Un grupo de` milicianoa asaitaron.la Casa del doctor Alfredo Botet, en Is i
playa de Santa Fe, provincia de La' Habana. El doctor Botet decidio suicidarse
antes de ser arrestado por 16s comunistas." i
En la Sierra Maestri, provincia de Oriente, miembros deI ejereito rebelde
asesinaron a Marcelino Maganas, companero inseparable del joven revoluciona-
rio cubs -no Alberto Muller.. _ _
,.AI salir ehsol brillante de Cuba, se manchaba con Is Sangre heroics' de un' I •
{ grupo de patriotas cubanos que el rigimen comunista de Fidel Castro asesinaba I
frente al pared6n "de fusilamiento. Ellos se nombraban: Carlos A. Rodriguez
j Cabo,'Efrdn Rodriguez Lopez, Virgilio Campaneria Angel, Alberto Tapia i
f
Reyes Benitez, Filiberto Rodriguez Ravelo, Jose R. Rodriguez f
Carlo
Borges y Carlos M. Caivo Martinez.
Borges
Llego a La Habani'ei ex-presidente de Mexico Lazaro Cardenas.
teniente_Ramiro_ Vasallo, ordeno el arresto de todos los sacerdotes de
( 791152anillo., rueron encarvel-Rus, Rafael :Monterrey, Gonzalo Bianco Carela,
Arturo Sanchez Jerez, Pedro Cruz Cruz, Anibal Morales, Angel 'Blanco.
' Casimiro Jose, Antonio Carton Arrieta y Jose Luis lgquia. Todos sacerdote-%
catblicos.
y {
u
it
v
Of
dtiy,vt i d
MOrA(
Tf20P<<''
OCA 2.s- 79
low whistle broke the
tense dawn silence in the
Cuban prison courtyard,
where a tall, blond Ameri-
can stood upright against
a faded whitewashed wall. Having re-
fused a blindfold, •How" Frederick
Anderson gazed steadily into the rifle
muzzles of the Cuban revolutionary
army firing squad. He was whistling,
something he often did when be was
angered.
The whistling stopped seconds later
as the father of four young children
crumbled to the ground. But it re-
mained engraved in the minds of sever-
al prisoners who watched the execution
through the bars of their windows.
The body of the 41-year-old busi• ,
neaaman was loaded onto an Armyi
truck and .taken to a cemetery a few`
kilometers out of the city of Pinar del
Rio, on the western end of the island.
There it was dumped into a hastily dug
grave next to the bodies of eight other
men who were shot by the same firing
squad that tropical morning.
On April 19, 1961, "Andy" Ander.
on — my father -- joined the hun-
ireds who were executed for alleged
ounterrevolutionary activities, often
4 vithout a trial or an appeal hearing.
iundreds of others accused of the
lame crime still languish in Cuban
'risons as politicad prisoners.
It was not until November 1978, al-
lost 18 years later, that the incident
J -as proven to me with hard, cold facts.
was only then, when I saw my fa-
1 ser's grave marked by a small, disinte-
eating concrete cross, that I bid him,
•.;:;
•�` .
� _ , ��.� .• 1.
4 1 F
�•':�"t t Jej
A small con-
crete cross
marks the �--
Pinar del Rio •t
grave of
Howard
Anderson.
Shortly before
the writer's visi(,
the weeds were cleared from the site.
and the distant lingering hope he
might still be alive, a final fazewell.
The naive visions of the five -year -old
child who didn't understand why her
father didn't come home were buried
by a 23-year-old woman who had
found the truth hard to accept. •
I returned to my birthplace for
the rust time as a viiami Herald re-
porter assigned to cover the dialogue
between Fidel Castro and a group of
exiles from more than half a dozen
countries. The discussions centered
around political prisoners: fathers,
mothers and children separated from
the outside world by bars and an ide-
ology they rejected.
The irony of my return, however,
did not hit me until several days
later when I experienced two en-
counters that I had thought about
and planned in my mind for years.
I was able to visit my father's
grave — the first person in my
family able to do so --- and release
those thoughts that had been
pent up inside of me since he was
killed.
And I met and briery talked
with Castro, the man ultimately
responsible for my father's
death.
Both meetings activated
memories that I had tucked
away in the back of my mind.
These memories came alive
with a vibrant splash of color,
contributed by the former prisoners I
met who knew and respected my fa-
ther. It was as though I was living a
story I knew well, but with few de-
91_- 155
ow
Ls Howar
d ` of ed Cuba'
• And Now He I�s�� Dead
QU. r•aaw u
•�-�--�..
Muni Cubans jail t1.S• Legionnaire_
i .r� iN~1Y'Y •.��rr MN• �r �Irw. u,�••' �,.,At� • - 4.
of
io
��aa RC� .,, - •,.,war •w rM, �, ,.�, w Ilw.rr' I+ ♦ � • 1, / iV,Y'I',
/G `O 8 �����• Mti'o^.rwv�• +Mw,r+�N •r pn��"'iro.. `JytA �5 _^`1�
lious i''" -e. olaan eta 1l7•�—My �K/�,
t! -" r � � r t"`,""" 'r"'r' rf a�N •, Y'� �jW � �... W • +• rw'M
,� ��44 � � � � � ;.� '.-� ..� ,�o fee �,•�-,: ' ^' �;; :. �•.:� •
'D a� la - d • w ... ••a•.r rr r nr.n' ./•'�t.w � w 0".i � f fM ; w.�"
a r.aa rra ar• a.r• . 4 d',w ,ra r/' «' r
tails. I bad an outline, the beginning
and ending, and the theme of the story.
Several former prisoners filled in the
ebapters, telling me anecdotes about
my father that I never knew.
Some were funny, like the'times he
arm -wrestled with his friends, lost, and
then rolled up the sleeves on his mus-
cular arms and joked about stepping
• outside for a moment. No one dared
accept his challenge because his 6-
foot-tall frame towered over the aver-
age Cuban man.
Other stories tested to his valor.
He spent his last hours comforting a
25-year-old American man who was
terrified because be, too, was con-
demned to death.
And some pieces of information
were too horrifying to comprehend.
Shortly before my father was taken to
the wall, known as the paredon, most of
the blood was drained from his body to
use in transfusions for injured revolu-
tionaries. It was the custom of the
times.
The storytellers also colored my life
in a different manner. I expected to
run into people who knew my father.
but I did not anticipate the touching
reception I was given. I returned to the
islAnd' as a foreigner, but these people
quickly assured me I was no stranger.
"You are one of us,"•a man I had never
met before told me. "Your blood has
fallen on our soil for us, and we will
never forget tbat-"
Neither will the Communist govern-
ment While in Cuba as a reporter. I
was "accompanied" by a young, intelli-
gent woman who, I was told, worked in
Y/a w.rn.l 7a rr . M••�•~ `.r'�•-a,y.,iw
•w MIw1rY•� �
r•wrrr�rar• �V"�iN'�i �M�'�.�
I was not about to, either. When I
•„w ••-�-; --u ;..� ..- • :rr :� ;;�„
met the director of the Press Depart-
rwrr ar..� r• a •w . 'rr r "'"� w K t w a♦
"'' "' .�...... �,•.
.
ment, I demanded to see my father s
Iww. -r► •.a r a. W ,.ra r w • M r r.. ar r a
•wrL . Ur r '^ -� M �- --r
• � � M r ww�a
grave. If Fidel Castro and his regime
.. V1'
Ct1
'm FarnlLes
ow ed me and my family anything, it
_ _ s
Uve
was that courtesy. Yet I was prepared
.... r.. e.. , . • In Dade
for my request to be denied. I wouldn't
pa,r•p ron
have been the first person to be turned
sk
•••-� �+ r. • ..
"" "• Y.• 14 r"�"iaY rwt N,•rfd
C :� � �-• ::° • w �-
down.
I that demand was
:r.� . r r.� " +ate „�
w r ► .rj r Oi �•Oarw..�; d SfE• M Ir tw 4. V
r, rwrw6 `Wrw~ yy ��y4 wMWO)Or
understand my
heard by Castro. One of the prominent
wrrw�.r
„, :r �•+d .r,"r,, W, w ti,
members of the exile commission told
lock"
me be mentioned my request to a high
• •r. -VA :,..,,. """'r "'� "
government official" during a private
`�„ ;: •r ••...,.�-r..,� w-•• • ...a 'r
meeting and the official granted my
1 6" rw r- r r � -•.rf r.• � it
-••• �.. r ,.....• , r ., .,..
wish to visit the grave.
sri ... • .. r, r L•r, ar., ..'N a,. r rrr r r....
-!• - •= `- • r .Y. r �••�-• Y..r,a�
•a^
How high is the official?"I asked.
wYY.. : ww..ar.wrr«r
Dic(enlra
'The highest," he replied.
In Run•
Perhaps it is true. When I told the
r.. •ry r, rrr , rn Yr�
��� ����...,.,• ,�� , w,r
government officials I was leaving that
.. M �.........,,.,,, =..T•- �.;
morning to search for my father's grace
in Pinar del Rio, which is about four
hours west of Havana, they offered to
„•�; ,-• ��:
"accompany" me in their car. Although
"4
I had made arrangements to go with
Press clippings from the spring of '61.
some friends — the family of a political
prisoner I knew — I realized the offi-
the Press Department of the Ministry
cials were not giving me a choice.
of Foreign Relations. Although the gov-
The drive to the western province
ernment provided the foreign media
seemed endless, but I welcomed the op -
with several people who were supposed
portunity to see some of the country I -
to help us during our stay, I was the
have called my own for many years.
only journalist who had a personal
The bumpy, dusty road seemed to
"shadow."
tranquilize me. As I sat quietly in the
It was inconvenient for me, but I
back seat of the Russian•mede car gaz-
fully understood the reason. Though I
ing out the open window, Imy mind
never discussed my background with
traveled back to March 1961.
her or the other government press peo-
My father was sitting at his desk at
ple, they were aware of it and d:d not
one of the service stations he owned in° `
try to camouflage the extra attention I
Havana. He had returned to Cuba after .
received. They didn't pull any punches.
taking 'my mother, grandmother, two.. ,
f
j.•..r,.,r�...�� _
••�..
IL
f
6orrn4 Anderson oonbonts the man responsible for hef lather's death.
_ The day of my tathees arrest a group of G• men of .his situation and what the toner
2 agents, the Cuban intelligence agency. walled yuentes might ba. "i don t want you to tat
Into the station. As my father's employes this too hard. What happens, happens. t Cue.
watched belplealy, they arrested him and took you would call it destiny and there isa't_muc
jI-A
�' a�Ct1'i�IOn him to the first of the many prisom where be you can do to change that," he wrote on Mare —
i y ; spent the last month of his life. ao.
of Pd leY My mother heard secondhand about my fa• Three days later wrote separate ten i
thet's arrest from her mother-in-law. She had to everyone in the family. They were written
the firm handwriting of a man who spoke emil
of love, honesty, and pride.
To my oldest brother Gary, who:was J6 f
"This may well be my the -time. he wrote, "Gary. always rewembe
brothers, my sister and we to Misini ether we that honesty. is one of our treatest .virtur.
woted be safe should the political situation in last letter and I hope with that as the firm base of our character w
Cuba'wonen. He returned to take care of his Orin never lack for respect from out friends an,
businesses -- his life's work'-- which had not that you Will receive it. associates.". :
been nationalized because they were Cuban. My lathe: asked me to behave myself ,an,
The businesses, worth several hundred thou. Everyone, including study hard, but I was not shown the letter unti
sand dollar at the time. were started by my about ten years later. As the youngest in m,
grandfather and had been to the family for al• myself, was very family, my, mother sought .;to -shield me fron
most bo yea;rs " 0 t1IIliStiC but the truth.
Communist officials were to say later that p
my father returned because he was a chief con• evidentl there has be trial of, my .father and for
tact between the. CIA and the Cuban counter• y i7p other, men began the raorriini
revolutionary forces. The charges also co
been some Sort of an Of Apra: 17. it►s day' of th
ed ,my father to as arms smuggling operation
CIA -backed Bay��of Plgs;invi
that had been discovered on another side of the invasion and for this lion, and lasted throuth th
Wand. My father denied all the charges, al• nest night. We learned of th•
' though Cuban officials hinted he would receivereason What has happenings from, a consul• from the Swiss Em
a more lenient sentence in exchange for a con. „ bossy in Cube who was present dunng theY'� ,)
feaaion. My mother, and dozens of my father's happened,happened." As the prosecutor was giving ha. cla.�rlj
friends that I have.talked to during the past statements, planes couldbe beard flying abov. '
years, also maintain he was innocent the courtroom. Machine-gun: Ctre miles,: awe
"I've known Howard aince 1943 in Cuba," heard on the radio that an American business• interrupted the trial several times. The ,prose
Jack Everhart, one of my father's closest man named Anderson bad been arrested. Mon tutor stood on the desk flailing .his arras aft =
frieada. said the day after the execution. "The than three weeks later we received the first of yelling. -He AW -the. tribunal that q :tathei
Quatioa remains is the minds of all of us Why su letter from
and the other my father. His lash letter car• men deserved. no, leas there thl
did y do this to him? Why?" rived after he had been executed. Four letters death sentence.
M ( pieced the story together in my mind, l never made it to our Miami home. -7us may won be my, lsat letter end L
reatfmnsd On promise I made to myself sever- His first letter were full of hope. He even that you will receive la." ray father s+!rote t
ai yam ago to find the answer to that qua. talked about' losing weight in a lighthearted evening; atter,the trial. ;"Everyone. inciudtr
laces. It maybe a I* search. manner. But be never lost sightof the serious- tapoelf. Was very optimistic but et'idetltly tI►trr
•
i
,
4
,
F'
ne
Execution
of My &her
has been some sort of an invasion and for
this reason what has happened, happened.
"lt is unfortunate that this invasion took
place, as under normal circumstances I am
mute that the tribunal would not have been
Wiled by passion ...."
The ray of hope he clung to began dim.
min&, but it never went out. "There is still a
hope that the appeal might be successful ...
but for the moment I am not raising my
hopes very high. I find myself quite calm
and find that I am not in the least afraid or
nervous — thank heaven. 1 am writing this
now as I know when the rime cornea A will
come with little or no advance warning ...."
Early the nest morning, before the ap-
poal hearing was finished, my father's short
life ended before a firing squad. Less than
100 miles away, my family prayed for his
soul.
The nest day, the U.S. State Depart -
went, which had refused to intervene de.
spite letters and calls from my family and
several congressmen. protested to the Cuban
government. The executions of my father
and the 2-5-year-old American citizen he
comforted during their last hours violated
"the elementary standards of justice prac-
tised by the civilized nations of the world,"
the message road.
A few days later my mother told we that
my father had died. It was p conversation
which couldn't wait any longer. I had spent
the majority of my time at a friend's house
but had doticed that something was very
wrong. My mother's eyes were always red,
and I was hushed everytime I asked where
"Daddy" was.
One night, as I was saying my prayers
before going to sleep, my mother answered
my question. "Daddy is in heaven," she said,
as she hugged me. 1 tried so much and for so
long that I was sick for several days. I didn't
understand what had happened, but I knew
I missed my father very much.
As the cat approached Pinar del Rio and
my thoughts tanned to the present, 1 real•
axed that I still miss my father terribly.
First we went to a cemetery in the mid•
die of the town. I had a feeling my father
was not buried there, but the government
official said we should check anyway. When
we walked in,1 realized the figures I had for
the exact grave number and row were not
going to help because the numbering 3yatem
had been changed.
The keeper of the cemetery, however,
was so sure my father was not buried there
that I began ' to get suspicion+. A half an
hour later I knew why. It also became clear
to me the government official was pretend•
ing not to know where my father was buried.
As soon as we arrived at the second cem-
etery. which was outside of the town, a
small, thin, elderly man %ri[h a &hovel in his
hand approached us. He, too, said the fig-
ures I had were useless. Then he asked the
name of the person I was looking for.
"Howard Frederick Anderson," I said.
My voice cracked and my hands were obak-
ing"Was he one of the Americans executed
many years ago?" he asked. I nodded.
farnily. Bonnie is standing at the right
"1"ollow tea," be atunrered, ' putt i
&hovel down. "1 think 1 know where
buried."
The old rasa srdW slowly throm
eetrter of the cemetery, passing eta
mwblo tomb and ornate etomes. M
desperately starched each grave for r
ther's name. If the old min was w•rnng
prepared to go from grave to grave t
found what I was looking for.
The old man kept walking. Soon o
passed through the entire cemetery an(
on a grassy path that led to an over;
bushy area where weeds and thorns t
ened our every step. A smaller path
the left Forty feet away, the t.op% o
small crosses could be seen over th
wild grass. The old man walked to one
middle crosses and pointed. "Is this is
asked.
om where I stood I to
tell. I hesitated to look
)y because the only
could get nearer was to
,G on the grave. Shakint
overwbelmed with em
that included fear, I took a couple of
and knelt down to examine the rusty,
and weathered metal plaque.
"R.I.P. HOVARD FREDERIZ AN
CON. Died April 19, 19G1. Your friend,
written upon it in Spanish.
"I have found him," I said quietly.
My throat tightened as I tried to
back the tears that slowly began t
where 1 knelt on my father's grave. I si
dered to my feelings and wept, knowin,
the tears that fell from my eyes came
the hearts of my mother, brothers and
who may never be able to bid a final fa
to the man of whom we're most proud.
For a moment my thoughts settled
very special woman whose thougbtft
foi others in a time of great personal d,
it, in my experience, unequaled. Her
band was shot the same morning my
was. She followed the Army truck t
cemetery and marked each grave wit.
crosses and plaques that are there toga
I looked at the crow, which had survive
most 1,8 years of tropical weather, I tht
of how grateful 1 am to her.
But even the emotion of finding n
thew grave was'marred by the govern
which decided his fate. While seven c
other graves were covered by decad
weeds and undergrowth, my father's
and the one next to his were clean. The
obviously been cleaned recently, pe
while I was on the way to Pinar del Rio
government knew where the grave wr
the time and probably cleaned it third
would prefer it that way.
They were wrong. I was disgusted e
thought that they would not even let tr
&her rat in peace. The deeply -tooted h
for the Communist regime, the thous
never dared speak and the childhood dr
of revenge boiled inside of me.
Then the negative feelings subsided
father would not have felt so much ht
thought. I remembered one of his It
when he spoke of forgiveness. No, I r
not forgive his wurderers, but I souk
yJ - 155
OK �e
.� Execution
of W Fatter
not to hate them. I went to the cemetery
empty-handed. I left with a lighter heart and a
feeling I had accomplished a mission we had
left unfinished.
The five wild flowers I placed next to the
crumbling, concrete cross have undoubtedly
been covered by young grow4hs of grays, weeds
and ferns. VI Ain months, the cross will again
be hidden from sight -- but never from my
thoughts.
14or will i ever forget my brief meeting with
Fidel Castro less than two weeks later. Follow.
ing a 2 a.m. press conference at the Palace of
the Revnlution. Castro shook hands with a re-
porter in front of him and then turned in my
direction.
"I wnnt to talk to that girl." he said, point•
ing at me.
I froze. Nly heart began pounding and I felt
my fare turn red. As Castro walked.toward
the, I realized 1 would have to shake his hand. a
thought that repulsed me. But I realized that
as a&,rtnalist, I had no choice.
1,'e briefly discussed my schooling and re -
As Castro stood in
front of me in his
green fatigues, I
thought about my
father, and how he
might have been one of
the political prisoners
released now if Castro
had not ordered his
execution.
"Yotu name is Anderson?" he raid, more
a statement. Without wefting tot a reply,
added, "Oh yes. Anderson."
Resting his chin on his chest, Castro pain
tot a moment as though he was decddl
wbethet or not to add something to his G
statement. As he stood in front of me in h
green fatigues, 1 thought about my father, or
how he might have been one of the politic
prisoners released now if Castro had not o
dered his execution.
But neither of us spoke out minds )
looked at me, smiled, held out his hand, or
thanked me -- for what, I'll never know.
As he turned to leave the room. I wonderr
if the thousands of deaths he ordered weigh -
on his conscience, haunting him. Then
thought of the last words my father wrote
us
"P.S. Thanks to all of you for the happine
you have given me."
I slowly walked out of the palace and sat
one of the hundreds of stairs that lead to t,
ana quiet — except for a row wnrsue max
cent past. Ile spoke in a soft but confident hope my father heard. E
voice. 1 nervously replied to his questions, try.
ing hard to still my shaking voice. It didn't BONNIE M. ANOERSON is a #toff writer for T
work. Miami Herold sad E/ Miarrri Herald
A Very Personal Assignment
At 23, Bonnie Anderson figures her life
has been richer and more rewr+rding than
she'd ever imagined it would be. She grew
up in Colombia, went oft to college in
Spain, and now has a job writing for two
daily newspapers, The Miami Herald and
its Spaoish•language daily, El Miami Her.
aid. She covers the city of 1F Weah for
both, and writes her stories in English
and Spanish.
But thrre is irony in the short story of
her. life. Her personal and professional
growth, she told me, would not have oc-
curred at the rate it has had it not been
for the execution of her 'father IS years
ago. "1'd have grown up to be a spoiled
rich kid in Cuba. instead of the aggres-
sive, independent person I am." This is
not to say that her father's death hasn't
festered -- it has, and it ultimately was
h zed f d h f 1'
the reason one wan tom er at ter s Noward Anderson
grave and to confront the man responsible
for it, Fidel Castro. (She tells the story on
page 10 in Tropic and on page one of to-
day's edition of El Herald.) But Bonnie.
who admits to growing up bitter, also de-
veloped an interesting silver- lining theo-
ry: "I had to do,things on my own, make
my own decisions, and become responsi-
ble for them. You have to understand
that my father was a successful business-
man. If this hadn't happened to him, all
the decisions in my life would have been
made for me."
Her decision to write the story about
her father Was her own. No editor at ei-
ther paper knew it was until being written unt
the story was finished "It was so bard to
do — the hardest thing I've ever had to
0
i
r
By Lary Bloom, editor
write — that I didn't want any editor
hanging over me, asking. 'When are you
going to have that story fmished?' I didn't
need all that pressure." What she needed
was a lot of paper and patience. "I taxied
10 times, on 10 different days, to write
the beginning. I had to analyze all my
feelings It meant facing up to my *mo-
tions, facing up to what had happened,
facing up to it all. I also didn't want a
maudlin story, I didn't want anybody pi.
tying me."
On the 11 th day, the story began to
flow. "I slots a few paragraphs, then set
them aside and tried to improve on them.
1 couldn't. The graphs I had written acre
just what I wanted to say." There was a
moment when suddenly the events, the
joys, the tragedy of her life crime together
,in a perspective she could understand and
relates There were times during the proj.
ect when she wondered if she could ever
finish. But she did. It was a commitment
she had made to herself; one she would
not break. And now, she says. "I'm much
stronger for the experience."
In a way, however, her story is not yet
finished. She says she would like another
meeting with Castro. "The first meeting
was so fraught with emotion. I knew I
could trust myself but I had the feeling in
the back of my mind that I might do .
something rash. My knees were shaking. i
The next time I meet Castro. Pm not
going to be as nervous. Perhape we can sit
and talk in a civilized way. I'm sure.I
could do it. AD those tboughts and Ideas
and emotions I'd been dwelling on those
18 year have been tetietrad."'