The Miami Herald
Oct. 26, 2002

Pedro Pan group eyes kids' camp as memorial

Group wants a family park

BY TERE FIGUERAS

  It has always been a place for the young.

  A shelter for orphans, a campground for children -- and a temporary home for thousands of children spirited away from Castro's Cuba regime, alone and
  unaccompanied, as part of Operation Pedro Pan.

  Now a group of Pedro Pan youngsters, grown with families of their own, hopes to turn the 21-acre Boystown property in West Kendall into a living
  memorial to the sacrifices made by their families in Cuba and the open hearts they found in Miami.

  The plan: a park where children and their families can explore preserved pine lands, camp out and learn about nature.

  They would also learn about the history of the grounds, known as Camp Matecumbe when West Kendall was little more than a swampy patch in the
  Everglades.

  ''It was so heart-wrenching but so touching,'' said Elly Vilano-Chovel, chairwoman of the nonprofit Operation Pedro Pan Group -- and one of 14,000
  children ferried out of Cuba in the early 1960s. She was 14 when she and her younger sister landed in Miami in 1962 and were sent to a camp for girls
  and young boys in Florida City. ``We left our families and our country, but at the same time we saw the generousity of people here in America.''

  NEGOTIATING TO BUY

  Miami-Dade County's parks and recreation department is negotiating with the Archdiocese of Miami to buy the land at Southwest 137th Avenue and
  120th Street.

  This week, the Operation Pedro Pan Group launched its drive to raise $800,000, its share of the estimated $2.4 million needed for the land and initial
  development.

  The Florida Communities Trust has given the county a grant for half of the buying price, still in negotiation. About $400,000 in impact fees collected from
  developers by the county will also go toward the project, which still needs approval from the county commission before it's finalized.

  BROTHERS CHIP IN

  Two Pedro Pan brothers, Carlos and Jorge de Cespedes -- who run the Pharmed Group -- chipped in $50,000.

  The push to save Matecumbe began two years ago, when Vilano-Chovel heard the property was for sale.

  Boystown, still a shelter for immigrant children who come into the country alone or whose parents are detained at Krome Detention Center, needed to
  grow. But a zoning ordinance prohibited the archdiocese from expanding because of the shelter's proximity to Tamiami-Kendall Executive Airport.

  ''It was too important to be turned into warehouses,'' Vilano-Chovel said. She asked the church if she could scout for a nondeveloper to buy the
  property. ``I knocked on the right door. It was like divine providence.''

  If the deal goes through, the Boystown property will be a boon for the area's 300,000 residents, county officials say.

  The property serves as a buffer to an adjacent 78-acre endangered pine preserve and would give congested West Kendall much-needed recreation and
  green space, park planner Bann Williams said.

  ''It can be used for children's programs, environmental education, camps for kids,'' he said. ``There will also be an exhibit showing the history of Pedro
  Pan.''

  Camp Matecumbe was the point of arrival for many of the children who arrived by the clandestine airlifts, orchestrated in part by the late Monsignor
  Bryan Walsh of the Archdiocese of Miami.

  They were placed, through the Catholic Church, in orphanages and foster homes throughout the country, waiting to be reunited with their parents.

  Not all of them were.

  ''I was one of the lucky ones,'' said Juan Gonzalez, whose parents placed him aboard a plane 41 years ago this week. Gonzalez, then 16, spent four
  months at Camp Matecumbe, sleeping in bunk beds and waiting for the fear and uncertainty to ebb.

  BOYS 12 TO 18

  More than 4,000 Cuban boys passed through the doors of Camp Matecumbe, which housed 12- to 18-year-olds. His buddies at the camp gave him a
  sense of solidarity. The Catholic brothers who taught class gave him a sense of security.

  ''It was frightening. We felt like we had no future,'' said Gonzalez, who eventually reunited with his parents after being sent to an orphanage in
  Marquette, Mich. He is an attorney and traffic court judge in Miami. ``I remember a lot of guava trees and a lot of snakes. It felt like the end of the
  world.''

  For more information, visit www.pedropan.org.