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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781734819649 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Tribal Drums Publishing |
| Publication date: | 03/15/2017 |
| Pages: | 250 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.51(w) x 8.50(h) x 0.53(d) |
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Under Cuba
By Chap Harper
Smoking Gun Publishing, LLC
Copyright © 2017 Chap HarperAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-940586-41-0
CHAPTER 1
Hotel Nacional de Cuba, Havana, December 22, 1946
Bernie Swartz and Carmine Spada distanced themselves from the important mobsters who sat at a long table in a conference room on the National Hotel's first floor. Salvatore "Lucky" Luciano had just broached the subject of "the boss of bosses" and Vito Genovese and Albert Anastasia told him they agreed that Luciano should remain the boss even though he had been expelled from the United States and sent to live in Italy. It pleased him greatly to find that he didn't have to fight for a position he believed he deserved anyway. They discussed the issue of Bugsy Siegel and voted to punish him for the losses incurred on the Flamingo project in Las Vegas. Meyer Lansky wasn't able to vote since he wasn't pure blood Italian. He was Jewish, as was Bugsy, yet he spoke up for Siegel and pleaded for the council to wait for the grand opening of the casino, which was only a few days off. They agreed. But Lansky also stated that should the new casino in the desert not be successful, "he would be dealt with." The entire room knew what that meant.
Bernie and Carmine were low-level mobsters — hardly even mobsters. They jointly owned the Caribe Shores, a small-potatoes casino and nightclub in a seedy outlying district of Havana's Malecon. Actually, the front of the casino was a restored two-story colonial building across the street from the main waterfront with a view of Moro Castle, which stood high on a bluff with cannons trained down to ward off pesky pirates. The Caribe Shores was very nice inside and out, but a few paces away from the parking lot was a neighborhood crawling with thieves and dope heads. Yet in spite of its out-of-the-way location, the casino was a wildly successful property. The building was paid for, the nightclub had a great reputation, and the entertainment and meals were top notch. Guards were posted in the parking lot and actual run-ins with local thugs were rare. The two owners were not high on the pecking order at the gangster convention underway at the National Hotel and Casino but were well-respected. As they sat some distance from the big Mafia table, those leaving for the restrooms and smoke breaks would stop and talk to the partners. Meyer Lansky was always friendly, especially to his Jewish friend Bernie Swartz; he placed a hand on Bernie's back as he headed out of the conference room.
"Bernie, can you believe we have rented the whole goddamned hotel for this meeting? It's wacky! Be glad you're not at the main table deciding who is going to be left alive to rule the earth," Meyer said, sporting a big grin.
"Meyer, you and I are the accountant types and not meant to run the show. We do a hell of a job counting the money, though," Bernie said. Meyer laughed and headed for the exit.
All the casinos in Cuba were surging as they recovered from the war years. Carmine Spada had served in North Africa where he almost lost his foot under a half-track in the desert. He dodged amputation but would always limp as too many bones were broken to ever heal properly. He was discharged in 1943 and shortly after he returned, he saw Bernie leave for Europe as an army air pilot. Bernie flew missions as a P-51D Mustang pilot and escorted bombers on their flights over Germany.
Both were US citizens who had permits to operate a business in Cuba. Fulgencio Batista, who was usually the president of Cuba (and when he wasn't, he still was), had offered to match casino investments, dollar for dollar, up to a million, to attract investors in his largest city. A typical in-depth background check was waived. All casinos were hurt during the war, but most survived as GIs on leave and other fun-seekers took the ferry, which ran only a couple times a week, from Miami to Havana. Now it ran two times a day during the week — three times on the weekend. 1946 was the rebirth after all those bleak times.
There were Christmas parties at the hotel, and Bernie and Carmine made appearances if they got a phone call asking them to show up. The coveted invitation was for Frank Sinatra's performance. Of course, the Caribe Shores owners attended and sat among the largest concentration of Mafia, gangsters, Cosa Nostra, and mobsters ever assembled in one place. People would like to think that the singer was naïve about his audience, but he grew up with a lot of these guys back in New Jersey. Many were his friends and always would be. The Italians loved their golden boy, and he returned the affection. The parties started breaking up right after Christmas, and the hotel began to receive their normal wealthy guests from all over the world. Bernie and Carmine went back to their club where Carmine booked the shows, hired and managed the staff, while Bernie massaged the books and supervised the gaming operations.
Carmine lived nearby in a good neighborhood in a large Spanish Colonial house. He had a lovely wife and two beautiful young daughters, Suzanne, age 8, and Liza, age 9, who attended school back in Boston. His wife Betty traveled back and forth to look after them. Their summers were spent in Cuba, Europe, and on vacation with their dad. Carmine knew he couldn't hold on to them forever since it wouldn't be long before they discovered boys. The girls were in Catholic elementary boarding school and were only a little more than a year apart in age. Betty had relatives nearby in Cambridge, so there was always family close by. Carmine had married at twenty-one and now was 32 years old — five years older than Bernie. He took on the role of older brother much of the time, yet both were really young to be in the casino business. Betty found out right after the big hotel assembly that she was pregnant again. It wasn't planned, but the surprise was really welcomed. The girls were away in school so much of the time, she would now have a baby to occupy her time. The girls were also excited and looked forward to a new sibling.
Bernie was also married. He had met a British nurse named Connie after he sustained some flak wounds on a mission deep in Germany's heartland. She was blonde, sexy, and required a lot of attention. They had an apartment near the US embassy on the other end of the Malecon and a horse farm on the Isle of Pines. Their land contained almost three miles of coastal waterfront, including a nice beach, a house on the water, and a separate large boathouse for Carmine's 43-foot cabin cruiser named Caribe Queen. In order to get to his farm, Bernie kept a well-maintained twin-engine Beechcraft Model-18, which he picked up as an Army Air Corps surplus trainer and kept at a rented hangar at the Havana airport. The flight took less than an hour, and he made the trip a couple times a week. Connie was six months pregnant with their first child during the big National Hotel meeting. She was never comfortable around the Mafia types — but who was? The free-flowing money and all that it bought suited her just fine. She thought about sending her unborn daughter to boarding school when the child was older. She wanted to keep her children as far away from the mob as possible, and hoped it was a long time before they understood what their father did for a living. They would eventually find out, but the parents delayed revealing this disturbing secret as long as possible. Since she and Betty were pregnant at the same time, the two shared a common bond and became close friends.
The years after 1946 were successful beyond their dreams, but rather than expand the business, the two owners refurbished the Caribe Shores. After Fidel Castro attacked some of Batista's barracks on July 29, 1953, in Santiago, Cuba, in what was a losing battle, the two men withdrew most of their money from the National Bank of Boston and Chase Bank in Havana. They worried about the future.
"Carmine, it's not just Fidel and his little rebel band of fuck-ups that worries me. The tone of the country is that Batista has to go. The takeover will be military, and the leader will act as a dictator, most likely. I've heard Fidel say that the casinos are part of the corruption of the government. We need to be ready," Bernie said.
A secret location below the boathouse at Bernie's place, under several feet of concrete, was the depository of enormous profits. On several occasions, they discussed building an airfield on Bernie's land for emergency flights. Fidel's attack had been a complete ass-whipping, but Bernie and Carmine knew the pulse of the people and the tenacity of Fidel's rag-tag rebels. They believed that if Fidel didn't survive the war, another military leader would arise to defeat the increasingly unpopular Batista Regime. Neither could imagine a communistic Cuba since the rebels said they were against a soviet-styled government. But a new dictator might outlaw the casinos with whatever brand of government they put in place.
Bernie and Carmine had sons born just six months apart in 1947. Bernie and Connie named their son Moses Franklin Swartz, and Carmine and Betty Spada came up with the name Roman Nico Spada. At least once a week, one couple would babysit the other couple's child; this gave both couples an opportunity to take in a movie or to visit the Tropicana nightclub and casino. Victor de Correa and Martin Fox always had a special table for them at the Tropicana, and the favor was returned to them at Carmine and Bernie's Caribe Shores.
Every so often Bernie and Carmine would load up the families and fly to the Isle of Pines where Carmine kept his big Chris-Craft moored at Bernie's dock. While the wives were at the beach or otherwise occupied, the two casino owners would pull a big rug back in the interior of the furnished boathouse, raise a trap door, and descend down into a small room. There was a table for sorting items, a couple of rattan chairs, and a huge walk-in safe. The boathouse had been built over the safe by American contractors. No native Cubans were allowed near the area when it was built, and as a further precaution, the contractors were from Washington State. They didn't want anybody who could jump in a boat and nose around, looking to bust into the safe. Not that it would have been easy to do. The sides were made of reinforced concrete and were three feet thick. The ceiling was four feet thick, reinforced with metal rebar, but the steel rods were only placed in the lower part of the ceiling so a metal detector couldn't pick them up from above. Metal detectors were becoming very popular in law enforcement, and Bernie and Carmine had tested them over the safe. Not a single ping. However, the stairs and the trap door were made of metal, so they had to go. Plans were in the works to rip them out and replace them with either wood or the new hard plastic models that started being used after the war.
Carmine made it a point to attend the Miami boat show every year. On one of these trips, he boarded a brand new blue water sailboat and found a hatch cover and steps made from a hardened plastic.
The sales person remarked, "This plastic isn't affected by salt water, won't rust, needs no treatment, and is as strong as metal or wood. The gangway and hatch are an option, so they can be ordered and shipped to Havana for you to pick up."
Carmine was about to leave when the salesman stopped him.
"Sir, we do have one of the units in stock. It has an extra-long ladder and won't fit any of the boats we have in stock. If you want it, I'll let you have it for the price of the shorter one."
Carmine smiled at his good luck and bought it. Once they installed it, the metal detector didn't make a sound when it was passed over the hatch. The hatch was recessed about six inches so concrete could be poured over it, sealing it from anyone. Bernie always had sacks of quick-drying cement stored near the boathouse.
Bernie had always liked gold coins and bars. It was illegal at the time to own them in the states, so he kept his collection in the big safe. Carmine owned a few but wasn't a real enthusiast like his partner. Some were in bags, but the ones with numismatic value were mounted on cards with their assigned grade listed. President Roosevelt's Executive Order 6102 in 1933 restricted the ownership of gold and only allowed individuals to own a few coins unless they were collectors of rare coins. Jewelers could have only enough gold for making products. If you fell under one of these classifications and registered, the treasury agents would be by to check on you. One slip-up and they would confiscate your coins, your gold, and put you in jail for up to ten years.
* * *
On one of these trips to the Isle of Pines in the summer of 1955, Bernie and Carmine drove their Jeep roadster into town to pick up some groceries. They left their wives behind at the beach house, along with Carmine's two daughters, Suzanne and Liza, who were now 17 and 18. His son Roman and Bernie's son Moe, both 8 years old, were also at the house. It was over twenty-five miles from Roja Beach on gravel and dirt roads to the main town Nueva Gerona, but it gave them time to talk about the future.
"Bernie, we need to plan exactly how to escape this place in case one of the rebel factions overthrows that asshole Batista. So far most of these guerilla attacks have been ill-planned and poorly executed. But I'll tell you what's going to happen: Batista's troops are going to be lured up the sides of those mountains where the rebels hide and then they'll pick them off one by one — steal their guns — and do it again. We can't be caught with our pants down," Carmine said as he rose up in his seat spotting a pothole he knew Bernie would hit dead on.
"You and I have this fucking conversation every time we're away from the wives — the very damn reason we built the safe," Bernie said. "So far, we've been putting from one-to-two million dollars a year in that damn thing — not counting the gold. We have a compartment in the plane and the boat to carry some out, but most we'll have to leave until later. I'd feel better if I had an airstrip near the house. Right now the airport is about thirty fucking miles away. A lot could happen in thirty miles."
As they entered the outskirts of the small town of Nueva Gerona, they observed the traffic was unusually thick. A huge crowd stood transfixed while a man standing in the bed of a pickup truck spoke. The two men stopped and got out of the Jeep to hear what he was saying.
"I am thankful to be out of prison, but will not stop my struggle for the people of Cuba. Also with me is my brother Raul." Fidel Castro reached out and helped his brother into the back of the truck. They all joined hands as the crowds roared "Fidel! Fidel!" When they saw some soldiers approaching, the two men jumped off the truck and disappeared into the throng of onlookers.
Bernie frowned at Carmine. "Why in the hell did they let those thugs out of prison? I had even forgotten he was on the Isle of Pines in the Presidio Modelo. Mark my words: they will be back and with a vengeance. Word is that Fidel is getting money from the communists. He denies it, but I have seen pictures of him with Russian operatives. What he doesn't realize is that socialism will make everyone poor. Look at East Berlin and West Berlin. Capitalism may not be perfect, but it's better than that commie shit. And, for those that work hard, most can rise above the lazy assholes of the world," Bernie said.
"Hey, you don't have to sell me on capitalism — I'm sold. The communist, socialist or whatever crap they call themselves will never let the casinos stay. We must be prepared. Let's talk about that airstrip by your house. I bet you want me to chip in on the cost?" Carmine said.
"Carmine, only if you want to land your ass there with me someday."
CHAPTER 2The Airstrip
A bunkhouse had to be built first for the airstrip construction workers. Bernie didn't really want the workers staying in his home or in the boathouse, even though it had two beds and a loft. It was too risky because they might find the safe. A couple of tents and cots were used while the Western ranch style building was erected. After it was completed, work could start on clearing a level strip of land between the shoreline and a ridge of marble encrusted hills. Finely crushed gravel would work okay as long as it was well packed — so well packed that it wouldn't give when a 6,700-pound airplane set down on it.
Connie and Betty took turns helping their maid to provide meals for the workers. Once the bunkhouse was completed, they would have a generator and a refrigerator for their small kitchen. Even though most of their meals were beans and rice, they would cook meals and fix sandwiches. The Swartzes and Spadas would supply the food and occasionally provide beer and rum.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Under Cuba by Chap Harper. Copyright © 2017 Chap Harper. Excerpted by permission of Smoking Gun Publishing, LLC.
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