Table of Contents
To Cuba’s greatest generation: the freedom fighters, living and dead, of
Brigada 2506, the Escambray Rebellion, and all the rest who fought Com-
munism; and to the parents who sacrificed all to bring us to America, most
especially to my own parents, Humberto and Esther Maria.
PREFACE
Cuba is only ninety miles
away, but very few Americans know that a Communist tyranny that rivals North Korea’s—and that had nuclear weapons decades before North Korea did—is just off the coast of Florida. The history of Castro’s revolution is known to everyone
personally
in little Havana in Miami. But it is virtually unknown beyond there—or at least the truth about it is unknown. So liberals, and the liberal media and liberal Hollywood, get away with the most outrageous lies about Cuba and Cuban Americans. This book is meant to bust their myths with truth.
It’s also a book to express gratitude to the thousands who put their lives on the line to fight Communism in Cuba—and to the United States that has given us, as exiles, the warmest welcome anyone has ever received. The process of becoming Americans wasn’t easy for our parents, who came with no money, no prospects, and no English. They had to succumb to such barbarisms as forsaking siestas, dining before 10 p.m., and—
Dios mio!
—watching their children date without chaperones. But their children were spared the horrors, humiliations, and degradations—the firings squads and prison camps—of life under the Communists. In America today, these Cuban parents number in the hundreds of thousands. You might call me and my Cuban American contemporaries “America’s
luckiest
generation;” our freedom, prosperity, and happiness resulted from the sacrifices of two different (though always considered brother) nations’ greatest generations: our parents and the Americans, the World War II generation, who welcomed us. This book is a small way of saying thanks.
Humberto Fontova
New Orleans, Louisiana, December 27, 2004
CHAPTER ONE
THE TERRORIST NEXT DOOR
On Saturday morning,
November 17, 1962, FBI headquarters in Washington, D.C., took on “all the trappings of a military command post,” according to historian William Breuer.
1
As well it might. The night before, an intelligence puzzle had finally come together and revealed a criminal plot that staggered the G-men. These were agents who had foiled Nazi plots to blow up American oil refineries in World War II. They had fought Soviet agents for two decades. They weren’t easily impressed, but they were worried now.
They hadn’t slept in thirty-six hours. They were haggard, red-eyed, seriously wired, and super tense. Time was nearing to swoop down on Fidel Castro’s plotters. Raymond Wannall and Alan Belmont sat in an office just down the hall from that of FBI director J. Edgar Hoover. Belmont was Hoover’s second in command. Wannall was head of the bureau’s intelligence division. They had special agent John Malone, who ran the New York field office, on one phone line. On other lines they talked with FBI agents in Manhattan who were trying to keep surveillance on the ringleaders of a massive terrorist plot.
The intelligence was hair-raising. Agents of Fidel Castro had targeted Manhattan’s busiest subway stations—including Grand Central Station—for rush hour explosions. This was no chump operation. Nor was it a military operation. It was something the United States didn’t know much about in 1962: terrorism. The plotters planned the fiery death and maiming of thousands of New Yorkers. More evidence came in showing that the subway wasn’t the only target: Gimbel’s, Bloomingdale’s, Macy’s . . . twelve detonators . . . several major incendiaries . . . five hundred kilos of TNT. “Blasts are timed for
the Friday after Thanksgiving
,” came the latest intel. Five hundred kilos of TNT primed to hit on the busiest shopping day of the year. A day when parents take their kids to meet Santa Claus.
“Keeping the Cuban suspects under physical surveillance all that night of the seventeenth without their knowing they were being watched put an enormous burden on those New York field agents,” Raymond Wannall later reported to the
New York Times
. “But they managed it with great skill.”
2
These were J. Edgar Hoover men—there were no acceptable excuses for any intelligence or security “breakdown” in those days. The old man simply wouldn’t stand for it.
Notice the date again, November 1962. It was just weeks after the Cuban missile crisis, and the country was still badly rattled.
With the terrorist plot unfolding, J. Edgar Hoover’s FBI realized we were looking down the barrel of a genuine threat from the same place—Cuba. As proof, there was none of the saber-rattling of the Cuban missile crisis. That’s for bluff. And as Ernest Hemingway wrote in
Death in the Afternoon
about bulls that snort and paw the ground, an animal bluffs in order to
avoid
combat.
Khrushchev wanted peace; Castro didn’t. True, in 1957 the redoubtable
New York Times
had passed along his heartfelt message, “You can be sure that we have no animosity toward the United States and the American people.”
3
But here’s the same Fidel Castro confiding in a letter to a friend a month later: “War against the United States is
my true destiny
. When this war’s over I’ll start that much bigger and wider war.”
4
(Please note: This was before any alleged “bullying” by the United States. In fact, Castro said this while the U.S. State Department and CIA were backing Castro’s movement, and even helping to finance it.) After defecting in 1964, Castro’s own sister brought an unmistakable message to Congress: “Fidel’s feeling of hatred for this country cannot even be imagined by Americans.” She testified to the House Committee on Un-American Activities: “His intention—his OBSESSION—is to destroy the U.S.!”
5
“My dream is to drop three atomic bombs on New York,” snarled Raul Castro, Fidel’s brother, in 1960.
6
And don’t forget, Raul Castro is almost assuredly Fidel Castro’s successor. Atomic bombs might have been a tad ambitious, but Fidel’s 1962 bomb plot was serious enough. The March 2004 Madrid subway blasts, all ten of them, killed and maimed almost two thousand people. The al Qaeda–linked terrorists used a grand total of one hundred kilos of TNT, roughly ten kilos per blast. Rafael del Pino, who once headed Castro’s air force and defected in 1987, has confirmed that Castro’s 1962 bomb plot involved
five hundred kilos of TNT
, among other explosives and incendiaries.
The head Castroite terrorist of the 1962 plot was Roberto Santiesteban. He worked—surprise!—at the United Nations, where fellow conspirators José and Elsa Gómez were also to be found. Santiesteban had arrived in the U.S. on October 3, 1962, on a diplomatic passport and served as aide to Castro’s UN ambassador, Carlos Lechuga. Two other conspirators were Marino Suero and José García, both Cuban immigrants, naturalized Americans, who lived in New York and ran a costume jewelry shop in Manhattan. Their shop was the plotters’ headquarters and storage facility. Suero and García also belonged to the Fair Play for Cuba Committee. The FBI had already outed the Fair Play for Cuba Committee as a Castro-funded “front group.” Its membership rolls would later include Lee Harvey Oswald, a name everyone would know in a year’s time, as well as CBS correspondent Robert Taber (he became the Committee’s executive secretary), leftist filmmaker Saul Landau (now a professor in California and an “adviser” on several CBS and PBS “specials” on Castro), and
The Nation
magazine co-owner Alan Sagner (whom President Clinton appointed as head of the Corporation for Public Broadcasting in 1996).
The FBI knew that the Cuban plotters were to meet that night of November 17 in García’s shop on West 27th Street, in the heart of Manhattan’s garment district. “Hey, wait a minute!” you say. “How’d the FBI know this? How’d they have them pegged?” The answer is: moles. The FBI penetrated the Castroite group. Bureaucratic types call it “HUMINT” (human intelligence). Remember, this was J. Edgar Hoover’s outfit. This was the FBI well before the Frank Church Committee and Jimmy Carter gelded it.
“Got Suero and García in sight,” reported John Malone on the phone to Alan Belmont in Washington, D.C. “Can arrest them easily.”
“Anything on Santiesteban?” asked Belmont.
“We have the area [around the UN] staked out but haven’t spotted him yet,” answered Malone.
“Then hold off,” ordered Belmont.
The FBI wanted a clean sweep, the three ringleaders nabbed together. And Santiesteban seemed the likely leader. Nabbing his cohorts prematurely could send him underground in a flash. The plot obviously involved dozens more conspirators and might be reactivated. Another ten Cuban “diplomats” serving at the UN were suspected by the FBI of running a sabotage school training in the use of explosives and incendiary devices.
Two hours later, Malone relayed field agent reports that Suero and García were getting skittish.
“Hold off,” ordered Belmont again. “Let’s wait for Santiesteban.”
“We discussed these decisions amongst each other,” recalled Raymond Wannall. “And we all supported Al [Belmont] completely on his decision to hold off until Santiesteban was spotted. But we were sure happy we weren’t the ones making this tough call. If it didn’t turn out right—whoa, boy—Mr. Hoover would not have been very happy. We knew Al could feel Mr. Hoover’s unseen pressure right over his shoulder that entire night and morning.”
7
Another hour went by, with the caffeine-addled field agents maintaining their increasingly precarious surveillance. They were watching Suero, who was in a parked car on Third Avenue and East 24th, whiling away his time necking passionately with an unknown woman. These weren’t “suicide” bombers—not by a long shot. They looked forward to their rewards in Havana: stolen mansions, stolen limos, lobster and champagne, chauffeurs, free travel, nubile señoritas at their beck and call, the usual Communist perks.