A Sergeant Named Batista

Chapter 18

One of the most active troublemakers in Cuba during the latter part of 1934 and the early part of 1935, was Antonio Guiteras, a dime-novel personality who led a group of malcontents into a campaign of terrorism under the banner of an organization called "Joven Cuba." Young Cuba it may have been, but it might better have been described as Young Russia.

Guiteras, the son of an American mother and a Cuban father, was born in the Philadelphia area early in the century. He came to Cuba as a boy and worked as a salesman. He got into politics while still a youth and soon showed a great affinity for the extreme left side of the road. Small of stature and with a serious eye affliction, Guiteras was not the bold, swaggering type of leader. He preferred to work in the shadows, and in matters of a revolutionary nature, he became somewhat of an authority. He spent much of his time studying the history of the revolutions of the world, and when given the opportunity, he could and did talk about the subject for hours. He was obsessed with the idea that revolution was the only sure cure for any or all political ills, and he considered himself a specialist in the field.

Guiteras was active in the campaign against Machado and he became somewhat of a national figure after the downfall of the Céspedes government in the autumn of 1933. Grau San Martín, acting as Provisional President of the Republic, named Guiteras to the post of Secretary of the Interior, and it was the first and last time in his life Guiteras ever became identified with anything even remotely resembling established order. He was always on the side of disorder and terrorism, a leader of the militantly disgruntled minority. The few short months he served in the cabinet of Grau were not happy ones for this confused young man. He disliked conformity and he was uncomfortable. In November, 1933, after serving two months in government, he announced that be was withdrawing. The Grau government, he said, was not a leftist government, at least not leftist enough for him. He said he would try to create a new government, one which would be controlled by workers, sailors, soldiers, and small shopkeepers. Guiteras knew that he had no chance of establishing such a government, and his declarations were made for no other purpose than to gain the support of more fanatics in his newest campaign of disorder. However, he stayed in the Grau cabinet for some time after he announced his resignation and was holding the dual cabinet post of Secretary of the Interior and War when the November, 1933, revolution against Batista and Grau was put down. He finally broke with the government and, particularly, with Batista. This break marked the beginning of a long feud between the two men, a feud which eventually brought a sudden end to the career of this half-American, half-Cuban, completely pro-Communist terrorist.

After he left the government he organized a band of young followers and set out to cause trouble. In a well-planned campaign of terror, the Joven Cuba Guiteristas tossed bombs, fought hit-and-run battles with anyone who opposed them-particularly political opponents-and spent their free time staging useless tiroteos to frighten the populace. In Cuba, a prolonged outburst of rifle or machine-gun fire is called a tiroteo, and in the revolutionary days of 1933 and 1934, it was used mostly as a psychological weapon. Except for bombings, there was nothing more upsetting to the inhabitants of Havana than the nightly outbursts of gunfire across the dark roof tops in the center of the city. This annoyance could and did destroy public morale, and if the tactic was continued long enough, it brought about a state of near-panic. The terrorists used this means to embarrass the government and its Police Force and to harass political enemies. The strong-arm methods of the Guiteristas brought more and more woes to the already vexed business and commercial men of Havana. Merchants who were hesitant about contributing to the "revolutionary funds" of Joven Cuba had their stores blown up by bombs. Political enemies were seized and executed by the ruffians, who tried to hide their gangsterism behind the pleasant-sounding name, Joven Cuba. They called themselves revolutionaries because it sounded better than hoodlums, which is precisely what they were. They bullied, they blackmailed, they bombed, they kidnaped, and they killed-all in the name of "the revolution."

During the period Guiteras was active with his Joven Cuba organization, bombs were set off almost every night. One hundred and thirty-three bombs exploded in the city of Havana between dusk and dawn on a single night. There was nothing heroic about placing a time bomb in the home of a political enemy, but it was the kind of conduct to be expected from the skulking band of Guiteristas. They always avoided the open, stand-up type of fight. Finally Guiteras and his followers became so much of a nuisance that Batista ordered the gang broken up. Guiteras went into hiding and laid low for a while. By this time the name Guiteras had acquired a sinister connotation. So bad was his reputation and the reputation of his followers that it became common practice in Cuba to blame the group for all the lawlessness in the island.

Newspapermen bad made a sort of a romantic figure of Guiteras, and his crimes provided a great deal of sensational copy for local as well as foreign newspapers. During the time Guiteras was biding out from the Batista forces, I decided to try to get an interview with him. It seemed like a difficult thing to do at the time, but I thought it worth while to make the effort. I learned that wherever Guiteras was, he was receiving messages from his followers, some of them in written form. I also knew the identity of the boy who was carrying the messages to Guiteras. So I watched his movements.

I spotted the messenger moving along a dark street in Havana about midnight one evening, and his actions indicated he was on a secret mission. I saw him enter a two-flat apartment building. In a few minutes he came out and disappeared into the darkness. I waited five minutes and entered the building. The stairway to the second floor was barred by an iron grille with a locked door. I could hear voices above, but I could see no one. I pushed the button on the electric bell and waited. The sound of voices subsided. In a few seconds a woman called from the second floor. I could not see her but she spoke Spanish with an American accent. It had to be the mother of Guiteras. I identified myself and said I wanted to talk to her about Antonio. After first telling me she knew nothing about Antonio Guiteras, she finally pushed the button which released the lock on the door leading to the second floor.

Mrs. Guiteras met me at the top of the stairway. She looked like any other Pennsylvania housewife. She was a bit plumpish, in her mid-fifties, and obviously annoyed by my visit. I talked fast and stressed the point that my purpose was to offer her son an opportunity to deny some of the charges against him. She then told me she had no information as to Antonio's whereabouts but that if she could locate him, she would let me know. I returned to the AP office and waited, with little hope that anything would ever come of my effort.

Less than a week later, two strange men stepped into the AP office late one evening. They didn't look very friendly. One of them called my name and asked me to step out into the patio. Once outside the office the men asked if I wanted to see Antonio. I did, of course, and I went to an automobile waiting in the street below. It was an old-fashioned open car with the isinglass curtains adjusted. As I stepped in the car one of the visitors gave me a blindfold and suggested I might want to cover my eyes. After fifteen minutes of driving, I was taken out of the car and led into a house. When the blindfold was removed, I saw a group of about fifteen men standing in a circle, their faces toward the center. All were armed with pistols. At a signal from one of our escorts, the circle opened and I was told to enter. Inside the tight circle there were two chairs. On one of them sat Antonio, the fabulous young ex-salesman who had kept Cuba in an uproar for months--the man Batista bad been looking for in every section of the island. He smiled and invited me to sit in the second chair, facing him, and not a foot away from the chair be occupied. He held an automatic pistol in his hand and, at my suggestion, he placed it on the floor under his chair. I had met Antonio during his days in government and I knew be spoke faultless English. He opened the conversation: "Why did you want to see me?" I told him I wanted to get his side of the story, a side which bad not been given sufficient attention. He went into an attack against his political enemies, the United States of America, and Batista and then denied he had had any part in at least ninety per cent of the crimes with which he and his associates were charged. The interview lasted about ten minutes, and as I prepared to leave, he called me aside, out of earshot of his bodyguard. “I know,” he said, "that in your work you see Batista frequently. I'm sure you won't say a word about where you found me." I assured him I would not. He chuckled and added: "He's the only fellow I ever respected-the only one who has ever worried me."

Guiteras changed his hiding places frequently, but he continued his terrorism against the government and against public order. Stories of his misdeeds became fabulous, and in the spring of 1935, the son of a wealthy Havana family was kidnaped and held for ransom. Newspapers reported that the ransom was fixed by the kidnapers at a half-million dollars and that the money was to be used to finance a "revolution." Police worked fast on the case but they were not able to block a payoff. The family of the youth made contact with the kidnapers and paid a large sum of money, about a quarter of a million dollars, for his release. It was generally believed that the money was paid to Guiteras and his followers. It was also pretty well established that the payment was made in Mexico, to a Guiteras emissary. This accelerated the search for Antonio, and as the Army and Police moved closer, he made plans to flee Cuba. He hoped to escape through the port of Matanzas, sixty miles east of Havana, and like all his activities, the escape plans had certain storybook characteristics. Guiteras and a dozen of his closest lieutenants were to hide in an old fortress on Matanzas Bay on a certain night and await a signal from the sea. The signal was to come from a small boat anchored far out in the bay, which had been chartered to carry Guiteras and his general staff to asylum in safer lands. Ironically, Guiteras hoped to find safety in the country be despised so fervently, the country of his birth, the United States of America.

But Guiteras never reached Florida. He was shot down on the shores of Matanzas Bay in the only man-to-man fight he bad ever had with Batista's troops. One of Guiteras' companions had betrayed him. His plan for escape bad been passed to the Army and the soldiers moved in, surrounded the fortress from which Guiteras planned to escape to the waiting boat, and floodlighted the area. The soldiers ordered Guiteras and his companions to come out of the fortress with their hands above their beads. The demand was answered by a burst of machine-gun fire from inside the fortress, and two of Batista's soldiers fell dead. After a short lull the demand was repeated and one or two of the Guiteristas obeyed. But not Antonio. He grabbed a submachine gun from one of his comrades and came out shooting, in a desperate attempt to escape the trap.

Not long ago a group of youthful Guiteras sympathizers, none of them old enough to have known Guiteras, erected a neatly chiseled stone near the shore line of Matanzas Bay. It marked the spot where the violent career of Antonio Guiteras bad come to a sudden, dramatic end-on the night of May 8, 1935.