By Sue Anne Pressley
                  Washington Post Staff Writer

                  MIAMI, April 29—Thousands of Cuban American protesters took to the
                  streets of this divided city today to express deep sadness over the fate of
                  6-year-old Elian Gonzalez and their bitter disappointment with a U.S.
                  government they feel betrayed them.

                  Like mourners, many were dressed all in black, carrying many more
                  Cuban flags than U.S. flags, as they solemnly walked Calle Ocho, the
                  street that forms the heart of the Little Havana neighborhood. There were
                  families, elderly people in wheelchairs, and children with ice cream in one
                  hand and a poster of Elian in the other.

                  The scene--and the tone of the event--were markedly different from last
                  Saturday, when, just hours after the predawn federal raid that returned the
                  boy to his Cuban father, the same streets erupted in chaos. Unruly
                  protesters threw rocks and chunks of concrete, set more than 200 trash
                  fires, and struggled with city police officers who met them with batons and
                  tear gas. More than 350 people were arrested, and allegations of police
                  brutality were rampant.

                  Today's more sedate demonstration, organized by a coalition of about two
                  dozen Cuban exile groups, was intended to send a clear message to
                  Washington that what happened that morning will not be forgotten--or
                  forgiven.

                  "We want to demonstrate our unity behind two concepts," said Ramon
                  Saul Sanchez, leader of the exile group Democracy Movement. "That the
                  [Immigration and Naturalization Service] should not be a totalitarian
                  agency within a democratic government, and that children should also have
                  rights and should also be heard.

                  "I think people are very sad," said Sanchez, who had led the
                  round-the-clock vigils outside the Little Havana home of Elian's great-uncle
                  Lazaro Gonzalez, where Elian had lived after his rescue from a shipwreck
                  five months ago. "They don't know about the child anymore, they can't see
                  his smiling little face."

                  It had been a tumultuous week for Miami in general, and particularly for
                  the 800,000-strong Cuban American community. In three minutes flat last
                  Saturday morning, armed federal agents stormed past a small band of
                  protesters into the Gonzalez home and whisked the boy into a waiting van.
                  Later that day he was reunited with his father in Washington. For many
                  who had pinned their hopes for a free Cuba on the small child, the news
                  was devastating.

                  "He was the Cuban people's son," said Gilberto Morciego, 60--a retired
                  pest-control technician who left Cuba in 1970--thumping his heart to show
                  his emotion today. "We don't care if we have to fight the whole world for
                  Elian and freedom for Cuba. They do not understand how we feel."

                  The fallout from the raid continued to be felt throughout the week as
                  Miami's Cuban American mayor, Joe Carollo, fired the city manager
                  Thursday night, and the police chief resigned on Friday, over accusations
                  that police had failed to notify the mayor about the upcoming raid and had
                  acted with brutality toward last Saturday's demonstrators. Today, the calls
                  for nonviolence apparently were taken to heart.

                  In a statement released late Friday, Lazaro Gonzalez made a plea for the
                  community to remain calm, saying: "Elian is gone for now and my heart is
                  broken, but South Florida must stay united. We cannot allow this tragedy
                  to destroy our community."

                  City police, still smarting from criticism about their conduct, cordoned off
                  most of Southwest Eighth Street today, expecting one of the largest
                  crowds to date in the Elian controversy. Organizers said they expected as
                  many as 80,000 people; a demonstration late last month drew about
                  20,000.

                  "We're sort of letting them have that whole thoroughfare, as long as they
                  are peaceful," said city police spokesman Delrish Moss.

                  A much smaller rally in support of the federal government's actions
                  stretched for nearly two miles along busy U.S. 1, with protesters
                  describing themselves as Americans who love America.

                  Fernando and Patricia Martinez, both 49, said they love America too. But
                  as a Cuban American, Fernando, who was 9 when he left his homeland in
                  1960, cannot help but feel "that a great injustice is being done" in Elian's
                  case. He also is disturbed by the way the rest of the country seems to be
                  viewing Cuban Americans.

                  "We are called the Cuban mafia. Look around and what do you see?"
                  asked Fernando, an engineer, indicating the throngs of quiet, well-dressed
                  demonstrators carrying cellular telephones and folding lawn chairs. "We
                  don't hate people. We want to get rid of Castro. I love this country, but we
                  can't continue to turn our backs."

                  As the crowds trooped down Calle Ocho, their posters reflected their
                  hostile feelings toward Washington: "Wake Up, America, You are Being
                  Lied To," and "News Bulletin: Children For Sale in the White House."
                  Many of the protesters wore "Federal Child Abuse" T-shirts, showing the
                  now-famous photograph of an armed agent confronting a frightened Elian.

                  "They shouldn't have used such drastic measures to get a little boy," said
                  Laura Hernandez, 15.