Emilio Milián, broadcaster who denounced terror, dies
BY LIZ BALMASEDA
Emilio Milián, who distinguished himself as a voice of independence
and tolerance in a turbulent exile era, died at home Thursday after a long
battle with kidney and heart ailments. He was 69.
Miami's unsinkable broadcaster, the victim of a 1976 terrorist bombing
for
which his assailants were never arrested, Milián proved to be
courageous in the face of hostility, hype and political agendas.
As a radio commentator, Milián was known for his
willingness to denounce as terrorists and common thugs
those exiles who intimidated, even bombed, anyone who
opposed anti-Castro tactics.
``He was committed to the truth. He refused to submit
himself to terror or intimidation,'' said his son, Alberto Milián.
``He was very committed to the well-being of this
community. His passion was not only to see democracy
work here, and to that end he always spoke out against
injustice and intolerance, but he also dreamed that one day
Cuba would be a free country.''
At the height of his popularity in the mid-1970s, Milián
frequently denounced terrorist bombings, saying the
bombers were not patriots, but criminals. Milián enjoyed
skyrocketing ratings and a hero's status among some exiles
who applauded his courage.
But he also was the subject of constant death threats. A
virtual state of siege existed at the Milián home, where his
children had been warned about opening mail packages and
talking to anonymous callers.
His outspokenness may have nearly cost him his life. On
April 30, 1976, a car bomb ripped off his legs outside the
studios of WQBA, where he was news director.
The bomb proved powerful beyond the physical damage to
Milián.
Even now, as the 25th anniversary of the bombing
approaches, no one has been prosecuted, even though the
investigations of several agencies and witness testimony
pointed to three suspects.
DETAILED CASE
At the time, investigators compiled a meticulous case
against the men they believed placed the bomb beneath
Milián's company car.
After an aimless start, investigators and prosecutors from
the city and county police departments, the Miami-Dade
state attorney's and U.S. attorney's offices convened
weekly. A federal grand jury was called.
Retired Miami Police Detective Osmond Austin, who was
tapped months after the bombing to lead the police probe,
said a strong admiration for Milián's principles helped drive
his investigation.
"He's a man who paid the ultimate price for freedom of
speech,'' Austin said Thursday. The case, he said, was
solved.
Former U.S. Attorney Atlee Wampler obtained a four-count
grand jury indictment on April 30, 1981, just hours before a
five-year statute of limitations would lapse. But the suspects
-- exiles Gaspar Jiménez, Gustavo Castillo and an unnamed
third person -- were never arrested. For reasons that remain
unclear, Wampler's successor, Stanley Marcus, dismissed
the indictments.
DEEPER MEANING
Meanwhile, Milián came to know the deeper meaning of
exile, as he became an exile within exile. As he recovered
from the bombing, undergoing 11 operations in five months,
the suspects in his case enjoyed fervent support from the
Cuban extreme. Milián's former radio station became a
fundraising vehicle for the men, who faced extradition to
Mexico for the attempted kidnapping of a Cuban diplomat.
In a speech before the Anti-Defamation League of B'nai B'rith
nine months after the bombing, Milián spoke about the
powerlessness of watching his suspected assailants act
with impunity:
``The man that speaks before you today is a mutilated one,
the result of exercising his right to oppose terrorism. . . . For
this I have been condemned to death without a trial, without
the right to defend myself -- the jury has given its verdict in
darkness and without my presence. The execution could
come at any time. For me there is no opportunity to appeal
my case or defend my rights.''
Even today there are fundraising efforts for Jiménez, one of
the Miami exiles detained in a Panama jail last year for a
supposed plot against Fidel Castro.
WALKED AGAIN
Milián managed to rebuild his life. Even more remarkably, he
managed to walk again. He returned to the airwaves in 1989,
on WWFE-Radio Fe. Opening his microphones to voices
that had been banned and blacklisted, Milián drew a
grass-roots audience of diverse opinions. The daring,
sometimes irreverent, content brought him battles with exile
power-brokers, legal and financial hassles.
Milián's devotion to radio came early. When he was 15, he
hosted a youth program at a station in his hometown of
Sagua la Grande, in Cuba's Las Villas province. A foray into
medical school at the University of Havana was cut short
when he decided to quit and return to radio full time, gaining
a reputation as a competent newsman.
In 1965, he left Cuba with his wife, Emma Mirtha, and their
three young children. After some months in Mexico, they
landed in Miami, where Milián bought a print shop and
worked part time at WMIE, a local station that offered some
hours of Spanish-language programming.
Milián rose at the station, which eventually became
WQBA-La Cubanisima. His popularity surged in daily
commentaries and what would become his trademark show,
a vox pop program he called Habla el Pueblo -- The People
Speak.
He pitched a line that proved risky, being fervently
anti-communist and also critical of terrorist acts committed
in the name of a free Cuba.
EAGER TO RETURN
During an interview at his home in January, shortly before he
was hospitalized for several weeks, Milián talked about his
life, his work, his eagerness to return to the station. At times
too hoarse to continue the conversation, he smilingly nudged
his wife, Emma Mirtha, to complete his sentences.
``She's my voice,'' he said in a calm whisper.
His health had been declining rapidly in the past year, as he
struggled with diabetes, a heart condition and most recently
the hoarseness.
He lost his voice the same day his second son, Alberto, a
former Broward prosecutor, lost his bid for Dade state
attorney. Since that day, the younger Milián has filled in for
his father at 670 AM -- La Poderosa, on his two daily radio
programs, The People Speak and What Is Your Opinion? In
the last few months, Emilio Milián's faithful callers often
prefaced their comments with prayers that he return to the
airwaves.
``Not only did my father fight for the truth as a journalist but
he never harbored any hatred,'' Alberto Milián said. ``And
despite all the adversity, he never succumbed to cynicism.
He lived and he died an idealist.''
On Thursday afternoon, Emilio Milián slipped away.
He is survived by his wife; sons Emilio Jr. and Alberto;
daughter Mirtha; grandchildren Daniel and Sofía; and sisters
Alida Ruiz and Fahir Milián.
Viewing will be from 3 p.m. to midnight today at Vior Funeral
Home, 291 NW 37th Ave. in Miami. There will be a memorial
Mass at 11 a.m. Saturday at St. John Bosco Catholic
Church, 1301 W. Flagler St., Miami.