From the Port of Havana to the Port of Palm Beach

My Dad drove me to the Port of Havana the morning of the fourth of July, 1961.  My Mom, of course, came along too.  The Joseph R. Parrot was scheduled to leave at around noon. *

My parents were allowed to go up the ship deck with me and take a look at the cabin.  It was a small cabin, and it had a small number of beds, 10 or perhaps 20?  The ferry had been built in 1916 as a service vessel and had undergone various transformations.  As a railroad car ferry it transported train cars filled with merchandise from the United States to Cuba and vice versa.  Trade between Cuba and the United States had come to a halt and the ferry was now used mainly to transport people out of Cuba.  There were certainly more passengers on the ferry than could fit in the cabin space.

Before my parents left back to the port they met a husband and wife aboard the ship. Although we did not know them, when they found out that I would be travelling alone they told my parents that they would look after me. I don’t think I ever knew their names and I don’t remember what they looked like but I do remember their presence and kindness.

A crew member told us that since there were so few beds, passengers would have to take turns during the night so that each one would have a chance to rest at least a few hours.  Where I would sleep that night was of no concern to me at the time.  My biggest concern was to take a last look at the island as the vessel sailed away from the bay of Havana.  I rushed to get a good spot on the deck, by the ship’s railing.  As the ship left I waved good bye to my mother and father.  Long after I could no longer see them, I continued to look at the Morro Castle, my last view of Havana.  The plan was for me to spend about one year in the United States where I could safely attend school and then return after the certain fall of the Castro regime. Nevertheless, I wished to have that image of the bay of Havana seared into my heart.

I remember the blue ocean, the blue sky, and the sun.  I remember eating dinner that 4^th of July in a small dining room that had a long table.  I ate several slices of white American bread with butter.  Although food was not yet rationed in Cuba, the quality of most foods had deteriorated.  This first meal was a delicious treat.  There were other people sitting at the table and although time has erased any memory of what they looked like I do remember that they were nice to me.

After the meal, I returned to the ship’s deck.  I stood by the railing again, this time to watch the sunset at the sea. One of the members of the crew approached me and struck a conversation with me.  I was elated that this handsome man would talk to me.  He went on to talk about his wife in Miami. “I have some friends that I would like you to meet,” he said. He wrote his name and phone number on a piece of paper and gave it to me. After he left I reflected on what he had just said. I tore up the paper and threw it away.

Although my intention was to stay awake all night I eventually felt exhausted and had to take a turn at one of the beds in the cabin. The ship’s old machinery was right next to the cabin, or so it seemed. The noise kept me from falling asleep. I got up early and watched the sunrise.

Breakfast was as delicious on the morning of July 5^th as dinner had been the day before.  I drank white milk and liked it for the first time in my life.  Regular milk had never tasted good to me.  My mom always prepared our morning “café con leche” with reconstituted condensed milk.

The J.R. Parrot arrived in Palm Beach at noon.  Elenita, a friend of our family who resided in West Palm Beach, came to meet me at the port. She bought me a Coca Cola from a vending machine.  Coca Cola had been available in Cuba, except during the last few months.  What a treat that was!  And it was the biggest Coca Cola bottle that I had ever seen.  To my surprise, I drank it all.

After a short visit at the friend’s home, one of her relatives, also named Elena, drove me in her car all the way down to Miami.  It was a long road trip.  I marveled at the wide highways with so many lanes.

We arrived at the home of Graciela and Ectore in Miami, close to dinner time.  Graciela was my aunt Sara’s niece.  At the time, a total of 14 people lived in their three bedroom house.  I think that the main course for dinner that evening was meat loaf. I savored every bite.

After dinner Graciela and her sister, also named Elena, and her two daughters Georgina and Gracielita invited me for a walk to the nearby shopping center.  I agreed.  I was completely astonished by the Walgreen’s and the dime store where we went that evening.  It was still daylight.

While at the dime store I needed to use the bathroom. I was puzzled when I saw that there were two bathrooms and two water fountains. One was labeled “white” and the other “colored.” Noting my hesitation, my companions gave me a brief explanation.

On the way back from the shopping center the experience of the two days shook me up from inside. As I felt a sudden jolt of homesickness, I made a great effort to hold my tears. “I can’t go back,” I said to myself.  It was not long roads that separated me from my parents and brothers.  It was the vast ocean that I had seen during the long night at sea that separated us, and no matter how I felt, there was no immediate way back.

I remember that moment as the time when I grew up.  In one instant I ceased being Elena the child. I had left my parents and brothers behind. I became Elena, the no longer child. I succeeded in repressing my tears so no one noticed.

We continued our walk until we reached Graciela’s house where I spent my first night in the United States.

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*People ask me: “Didn’t all Operation Pedro Pan children leave Cuba by plane?” Yes, 99.9% of Pedro Pan children travelled by plane to the United States.  A few of us came on the ferry. I happen to be one of them.