When It's COCKTAIL TIME IN CUBA BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR: 1924: THE REAL SARAH BERNHARDT 1926: THE PARIS THAT'S NOT IN THE GUIDE-BOOKS 1927: THE FRANTIC ATLANTIC 1928: WHEN IT'S COCKTAIL TIME IN CUBA In Preparation: FROM DEAUVILLE TO MONTE CARLO: A Guide to the Gay World of France WHEN IT'S Cocktail Time IN CUBA Illustrated BY BASIL WOON New York : Horace Liveright : 1928 Copyright, 1928, By HORACE LIVERIGHT Printed in the U. S. A. To CUBA'S BAD BOY, JOSE ESTRADA PALMA, IN MEMORY OF THE VISIT I DID not PAY TO HIS RANCH AUTHOR'S FOREWORD THIS book was not written as an "impression" of Cuba, nor as a guide. I have merely amused myself by setting down on paper what the tourist to Cuba will see, do (and drink) in a land where personal liberty and climate are blended in just the right setting of beauty and romance. I should like here to acknowledge the help I have received from, and recommend to the reader visiting Cuba: Terry's Guide to Cuba. Mr. O'Brien's Times of Cuba. The Havana Post. The Havana Telegram. The Havana News. and publicly to express my thanks to the following gentlemen for their invaluable assistance: Mr. John McEntee Bowman, Mr. Charles F. Flynn, Mr. E. B. Jouffret, Mr. Robert J. Kennedy, Mr. Conrado W. Massaguer and Mr. Roy C. Hurlbut. BASIL WOON. 57 rue de Maubeuge, Paris, France. July, 1928. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. HAVE ONE IN HAVANA . 1 II. THE DAY BEGINS AT THE SEVILLA . 19 III. WHERE EVERYONE IS DRINKING AND NOT A SOUL IS DRUNK! 33 IV. BUT ONE MUST EAT . 47 V. AND NOW FOR THE RACES . 59 VI. WHEN TWO IRISHMEN GET TOGETHER . 75 VII. A JUG OF RUM BENEATH A COCOANUT TREE, A DINNER-DANCE, AND THOU . 87 VIII. Do You COUNTRY-CLUB? AND WHAT is CÉSPEDES? 94 IX. COCKFIGHTS AND THE CARNIVAL. A NIGHT AT "JAI-ALAI" . .102 X . $ 100,000 FOR $29—IF You ARE LUCKY 117 XI. THE CASINO: "WHERE THEY GET YOU COMIN' AN' GOIN' AN' MAKE YOU LIKE IT" .126 XII. JUST A LITTLE BOY RAISED FOR THE CHURCH 144 XIII. NAUGHTY-NAUGHTY NIGHTS . 159 XIV. CHARACTER AND CHARACTERS IN CUBA . 166 XV. CHARACTER AND CHARACTERS: THE CUBANS 184 ix 1 X CONTENTS CHAPTER. PAGE XVI. "SMOKE?" HOW GOOD CIGARS ARE MADE 193 XVII. A LIVING HISTORY BOOK . 208 XVIII. "HAVANA ISN'T CUBA." DOWN THE ISLAND 222 XIX. ALL THE WAY TO BACARDI TOWN. THE GANG AT CAMAGÜEY . 235 XX. THE RUM THAT CURED A KING—AND PICKLED A NATION . -253 XXI. ONE THOUSAND SQUARE MILES OF SUGAR. INTO A SUGAR MILL . .261 XXII. A LOVER'S LEXICON: FIRST AID TO RO- MANCE IN CUBA 270 XXIII. CUBA, PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE . 278 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS FACING PAGE THE CATHEDRAL, HAVANA 4 COLUMBUS CATHEDRAL . 12 THE FOUNTAIN IN THE SEVILLA PATIO . 20 THE MALECON 28 PRADO, SHOWING SEVILLA BILTMORE HOTEL . 48 HAVANA RACES AT ORIENTAL PARK ... 60 THE HAVANA AMERICAN JOCKEY CLUB . 68 THE Two IRISHMEN: JOHN MCENTEE BOWMAN AND CHARLES FRANCIS FLYNN . 84 THE YACHT CLUB TERRACE DURING A TEA- DANCE 100 CASINO NACIONAL, HAVANA, CUBA . -132 LOOKING DOWN THE PRADO TO MORRO CASTLE 164 LEAF TOBACCO ON ITS WAY TO THE CURING SHEDS 196 MAINE MONUMENT 218 THE YUMURI VALLEY 222 THE PATIO, HOTEL CAMAGÜEY . .238 SANTIAGO BAY . 252 When It's COCKTAIL TIME IN CUBA Am. Photo Studios THE PATIO, HOTEL CAMAGUEY Am. Photo Studios THE YUMURI VALLEY Am. Photo Studios LEAF TOBACCO ON ITS WAY TO THE CURING SHEDS Am. Photo Studios THE CATHEDRAL, HAVANA MAINE MONUMENT CHAPTER I HAVE ONE IN HAVANA I ICE coats the backwash of the Hudson. In Chicago the price of coal has gone up for the second time. On Fifth Avenue the tops of the 'busses are vacant of humanity. In the ornate show-windows that the 'busses pass woolens and tweeds have insinuated themselves in the place of gabardines and light- weight worsteds. The drug-stores display pyramids of cough-and-cold remedies, doctors complain of overwork, and "GRIPPE EPIDEMIC GROWS" menaces subway crowds reading their favorite thrillpaper. Father, developing opposite symptoms from those which send him to Europe or the Adiron- dacks in Summer, persuades his doctor to prescribe a Southern climate. Down in Havana Fred Perry, the Elk City Flash, Father Fate's hired assistant at the Casino, has gone on the water-wagon. Charles Francis (Napoleon) Flynn, Grand Instigator of Activities, who can turn himself off and on like an electric ice-box, is seen at 2 WHEN IT'S COCKTAIL TIME IN CUBA the Jockey Club at 2 p.m., at the Sevilla at 2.05 p.m., and at the Casino at 2.15 p.m., notwithstanding the fact that these places are, even in a Cuban taxi- cab, twenty-five minutes apart. Old Man Jackson heralds the advent of the season by ceremoniously bringing in to the Sevilla B the first free hot lunch of the season, thereby occasioning the first reunion of the Old-Timers' Club. The taxicab drivers have hunted up their "English Spoken" signs and the stores on the Prado have busily affixed brand-new price-tags. Around the corner from the American Club a swarthy gentleman, proud because he is called "Sloppy," smilingly oils his cash-register. Out in Marianao roses are blooming, and the out- lying fincas are sending the first ripe strawberries to market. A pair of plus-fours appears on Obispo Street and, as if they were only awaiting this sign (as perhaps they were), swarms of Syrian bead-merchants invade the streets, Cuban counterpart of the insistent rug- vendor of Europe. Two shrewd blue eyes behind round spectacles appear in the Sevilla lobby and their owner is fol- lowed by gentlemen with camera, pad and pencil. "Bobbie" Kennedy, ace in the publicity pack, has ar- rived—and so, we may presume, has the season: It's cocktail time in Cuba. HAVE ONE IN HAVANA 3 II "Have one in Havana" seems to have become the winter slogan of the wealthy. The bells of Santa Clara are sounding auspiciously in Northern ears. It is becoming fashionable to follow in the footsteps of Columbus. So thronged with Americans has the Riviera become that these same Americans are turn- ing nearer home for something more satisfyingly foreign, realizing suddenly that only sixty miles from their own shores is a city so completely exotic that they may be as superior as they please. An American abroad is not happy unless he can feel thoroughly superior and a sine qua non of this superiority is that the country he visits should have a language different from his own. The natives can thus be berated for their ignorance and dullness of comprehension. In Cuban educational circles a move- ment is on foot to so contrive it that every child speaks English on graduation from high-school. This is a movement upon which the tourist commis- sion of Cuba should set a heavy, unscrupulous heel. If the Cuban children speak English, they will un- consciously ape the American and succeed at last in thinking and acting as the American. The boys will begin to think cock-fighting cruel, and turn to base- ball, and the girls will no longer seriously consider 4 WHEN IT'S COCKTAIL TIME IN CUBA motherhood at the age of thirteen. I assure you that I wot—a lot—of what I am saying, and it is my sol- emn opinion that the future of Cuba touristically depends not so much upon its climate, as is falla- ciously believed, as upon the fact that Cuba is a for- eign—a very foreign—land. III Cuba at present has four very distinct appeals to the American tourist, and I list them in order of their importance, knowing well that practically every reader will think I err in not putting Number Two first: 1. It is utterly foreign. 2. It has "personal liberty" carried to the Nth degree. 3. Its climate is among the finest in the world. 4. Its history is the colorful history of romance and adventure. How foreign is Cuba may be gauged from the fact that, despite its size, it has only 6,000 permanent American residents—and opportunities for twenty times that many. Many an American has come to Cuba with great ideas and a fortune to be made. He will show them. The trouble with these people is, they're too lazy. They won't work. They HAVE ONE IN HAVANA 5 haven't any incentive. What do they need money for—with meals growing on wayside trees and hardly any clothes necessary? They are thriftless. They won't save because why pile up a fortune when one day they will win the lottery? They loaf around, and can't get anything done. But he will show them. He is an American.* Twenty years later you meet him fanning himself as he sits in his undershirt on his porch. Fortune? Who in hell wants a fortune in this country? He's got enough, hasn't he? Enough to keep a wife and a flock of kids and make an annual (summer) trip to New York. Well, what more does a man want in a coun- try where the breakfasts grow on trees and no over- coats are necessary? He's no hog—besides, he may win the lottery. Yes, sir. Have a drink! As to personal liberty, it depends upon what your definition is of that useful commodity.