A Mixed Bag from Fidel's Jails

By Kenneth M. Pierce.

Dope dealers and dissidents are among Jesse's 48 freed men

For a time last week they seemed to be merely chips in Jesse Jackson's political game. The 48 prisoners he brought back from Havana were a varied assortment: 26 Cubans jailed for political offenses against the Castro regime, and 22 U.S. citizens, all of whom had been charged by the Cubans with drug trafficking or drug possession. But after they stepped from their plane at Dulles International Airport near Washington, a cheering throng of friends and relatives greeted them with tears of joy that transcended the politics of Jackson's ploy. Said William Snyder, a paper-mill foreman in Calhoun, Tenn., and father of freed Prisoner Alan Snyder, 24: "The Reagan Administration may be more or less disappointed, but I am tickled to death."

In hurried negotiations, the State Department had granted entry to the 26 freed Cubans. After meetings with immigration officials, most took a complimentary flight provided by Air Florida to a welcoming reception in Miami. Six of the 22 Americans Jackson brought home were arrested at Dulles on criminal charges, including importation of hashish into the U.S., possession of dangerous drugs and violation of parole; the others quickly dispersed to rejoin their families.

Most of the Americans had spent one to four years in jail, charged by Havana authorities with drug trafficking; typically, they became Castro's prisoners by accident, after equipment failures on boats or airplanes brought them into Cuban waters. In contrast, most of the Cuban nationals had been jailed for more than 20 years; some were kept in prison without explanation for months or years after their promised release dates. The political prisoners called themselves plantados, those planted firmly in opposition to Castro.

The plantados, thought to number up to several hundred in a total Cuban prisoner population of 7,000, refuse to wear the yellow uniforms made especially for them as badges of dishonor, so prison officials do not issue them any clothing. For 17 years, said the Rev. Humberto Noble Alexander, a Seventh-day Adventist who was jailed in 1962, many plantados "wore nothing but underwear we made ourselves from bed sheets." Noble's crime: sermonizing from his pulpit about Lucifer (a reference to Castro) seducing and deceiving the angels (the Cuban people). Once, anticipating a prison visit by foreign delegations, guards ordered prisoners to don new baseball uniforms and play a rare morning baseball game. But the visitors kept coming throughout the day. As a result, said Noble, "I think we played 70 innings before the guards said, 'That's enough.' "

Among the plantados freed last week:

-- Andres Vargas Gomez, 69, a poet and a former diplomat who is the grandson of General Maximo Gomez, the architect of Cuban independence. Imprisoned by Castro in 1961, Vargas last week was reunited at Dulles with his wife Maria, a college teacher in Miami he had not seen for 24 years. (Vargas was not in prison at the time of the release but was being held on the island.) Invited by Jesse Jackson to join an airport news conference, Vargas took issue with Jackson's self-described peace offensive. Said he: "We don't want a peace that will allow the people of other countries to suffer. I am very sorry to say these things, but I don't believe that Fidel Castro ever will like peace or will look for peace. He is looking to establish tyranny and oppression around the world because he is a Communist. To undertake a moral offensive in Cuba is a moral offense." A few moments later, Jackson replied, "I have a different point of view, but that's what makes America America."

-- Jose Rolando Otero Sabatier, 66, a former tilemaker who was a popular figure in the Cuban labor movement. Otero was arrested in 1964 while plotting a national uprising under the banner of the Cuban National Liberation Army. He kissed miniature Cuban and American flags on his arrival in Miami and looked a bit bewildered as a throng of 250 people cheered him. Said he: "After 20 years, I didn't recognize some of my family. I was surprised to see the grandchildren are bigger than I am."

-- Daniel Conde Freire, 43, a farmer with a second-grade education, imprisoned in 1963 for speaking out against the Castro regime. Said he: "My main aspiration is to take all of the political prisoners out of Cuban jails and reunite them with their families." Grateful though he was for his release, Conde said of Jackson, "He's making politics, he's looking for votes."

In Little Havana, the staunchly anti-Castro, Cuban-American neighborhood on Miami's southwest side, many supported Jackson's effort on purely pragmatic grounds. As one freed prisoner's relative put it, "Those people complaining about Jackson don't have relatives in prison. They don't care." More typical was the view of Banker Luis Lauredo, who had given Jackson a list of political prisoners in advance of the Havana trip. Said Lauredo: "I will stand up anywhere and tell Jackson publicly, 'Thank you for freeing the prisoners. But in the very next breath, I will say I'm disappointed because I don't share his foreign policy views. Castro has been a dictator for 25 years, and Jackson is going out there and embracing him and calling him everything short of God. That's very inconsistent."

The American prisoners were more forthcoming in their praise. Elbert Cheatham, 44, of Lynchburg, Va., was accused by the Cubans of possessing 1,700 pounds of marijuana when he was arrested in 1983. As he left Dulles Airport to drive home with his family, Cheatham shouted, "Tell Jackson thanks a million! Jesse Jackson is Jesus Christ right now."

Mark McDermott, 48, a native of Taunton, Mass., was arrested at Dulles Airport because he is wanted by New Hampshire police in connection with a theft investigation. He and freed Prisoner Calvin Privette, 29, were charged with drug trafficking in Cuba in 1982 after their boat drifted into Cuban territory.

Like most of the returning Americans, McDermott claimed the drug charges were trumped up by Cuban police. Said he: "They gave us a choice between pleading guilty to smuggling marijuana or spying -- and we were advised that they shot spies. "

By Kenneth M. Pierce.

Reported by Joseph McQuay /Miami and Barrett Seaman/Washington

With reporting by Joseph McQuay, Barrett Seaman