Qualified Cleanup

"First they set up a giant brothel," goes the cynical Spanish saying, "then they built Havana around it."

Most Latin American cities restrict their prostitutes to segregated zones, small and well-policed. But from the sea-swept Malecon to the heights of Vibora, Havana's prostitutes are scattered in a dozen different districts. Counting crib occupants, streetwalkers, bar workers, nightclub pickups and the girls in well-appointed houses, their number has been estimated at around 10,000.

In recent decades, the heaviest concentration of girls has been in the shadowy, shuttered Barrio Coloon, in the heart of the city. A quarter-century ago, one Minister of the Interior tried to clean up the district; he rounded up the hundreds of Frenchwomen who then monopolized the Barrio Coloon and shipped them back to Europe. The only practical result was that a horde of grateful native operators moved in. Last week another Minister of the Interior, husky Lomberto Diaz, 40, was getting better results.

Until Diaz came along, hardly a night passed in the rollicking, jazzy, bawdy barrio without a drunken fight, a shooting or a knifing. Under the conniving eyes of well-bribed cops, numbers-game runners and dope peddlers did a rich trade. From the doorways, women of all shades hawked their wares to a passing throng of awed countrymen, city slickers, roistering sailors and bottle-brave tourists.

Setting out to sweep all this away, Minister Diaz, a onetime journalist, earned himself a mocking nickname from the press: Lomberto el Terrible. Thundered Lomberto, undeterred: "If the criminal elements and the women victims they live off don't get out, I'll cut off their light and water, pack their furniture off to a city warehouse and jail any stragglers. We'll show them no mercy." His eviction tactics worked. By week's end, all but a corporal's guard of the women and their flashily dressed chulos (pimps) had pulled out of the Barrio Coloon. In its deserted streets the ring of hammers and the slap of paintbrushes replaced the shouts of merrymakers and the tinkling of glasses; property owners were following orders to clean up for new, respectable renters.

But Lomberto's victory had a predictable sequel. Most of the girls merely packed up and moved to different parts of town. Residents of other barrios became uneasily aware of various roving-eyed women strolling about, clutching bundles, violin cases, or even babies as camouflage.

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