US elections 2004 This article is more than 19 years oldDigging their heels in
This article is more than 19 years oldMiami's Cuban Americans tend to vote as a single entity - something, as Matthew Wells finds out, they will use to their advantage in the presidential electionThe White House political architect Karl Rove recently referred to Florida as the "Ground Zero" of the 2004 election: the state that must be won.
"Actually, this restaurant is the Ground Zero. Everyone has come here: both Bushes, Clinton, most Democratic candidates. The thing is, that's only at election time," says the gruff owner and founder of the Versailles restaurant, Felipe Valls.
His place is the epicentre of Cuban-American political discourse in Miami. It's an opulent but inexpensive restaurant that has mirrored walls - which partly explains the unlikely name - and room for 345 people to gossip and cut deals, while gorging on simple homeland recipes.
People who want to be president come here because although Cubans account for only 8% of the state electorate, they have a tendency to vote still as a bloc, based on who will do the most to further their gnawing desire to finish off Fidel Castro.
The totemic instrument which was supposed to hasten the charismatic Cuban dictator's demise is Kennedy's trade embargo, which 40 years on, is still in place and politically unchallengeable.
"The embargo is like religion. You don't discuss either with your friends. They are both just there," says Carlos Torres, business manager at the Versailles, and in 1961, one of the idealistic young Cuban recruits who took part in the ill-fated Bay of Pigs invasion.
I wondered whether after 40 years of policy failure, it might be time to put some faith in good old American capitalism's ability to subtly undermine Castro economics and set the people free. Mr Torres and his friends around the table see the logic in scrapping the embargo: "I want nothing to do with this man. I do not want him to have anything, even for a moment, that comes from me ... It is about emotion," he says. Joe Garcia, the articulate executive director of the Cuban American National Foundation, interjects: "It's more of a moral position. But sometimes we forget that the embargo is not the be all and end all - the liberty of Cuba is the endgame."
The harsh reality that these men face, and worry over, is that the embargo is all they have got out of successive administrations. George W Bush, on the other hand, got 82% of the Cuban-American vote in 2000 - partly because he promised more action, but largely thanks to Florida governor Jeb Bush's fraternal efforts and the Elián González incident; where federal agents snatched a young boy away from his Miami relatives in the full glare of the cameras, so he could be sent home to Cuba with his father. That happened on Clinton's watch and candidate Gore was punished accordingly.
Our two older lunch companions, Messrs Torres and Valls, say they will give their vote to Bush anyway, because they believe he won't sell them any further down the Florida Straits. They feel that Kerry's "flip-flopping" Congressional record, which is soft on Cuba, can't be trusted in November.
Mr Garcia has made himself unpopular in some Cuban circles in recent months with a different view: "You've got to hit a touchstone, which is the embargo issue. But once that's done, Cuban Americans tend to be socially liberal and progressive.
"For the last years, we've received almost nothing. We have to add to the embargo. Bush made promises about helping civil society in Cuba, which he's not doing. Why did we know who Vaclav Havel was? It's because foreigners were helping him. We need to do the same in Cuba. Back the whole society, and a Havel will emerge."
The fourth member of the lunch party is advertising executive Fausto Sanchez. He too is feeling more Democratically inclined. He says it is time to give American trade a chance and lift the embargo, but only under "strict controls" that minimise the benefit to Castro's bank accounts. When the smiling politicians come to pay homage at Versailles next, use the leverage: "We need to ask both parties, what are they going to do for us, and for Cuba? We have a stronger position than ever in this election. We can flirt with them both and decide later."
Moving on to thick and sugary Cuban espressos, we have a chuckle about the Al Pacino movie, Scarface. The ultra-violent, coke-fuelled 80s extravaganza was forced to leave Miami during late production and move to Hollywood, at the request of community paternalists. The story reveals a paradox about the community which must madden the likes of Karl Rove.
"Despite them having to pull up and leave, and the public condemnation, I don't know a single Cuban-American who can't recite quite a few lines," says Fausto.
The stubborn independent-minded pride, the sense of achievement at making it in America, is all well and good. But unlike most other immigrant groups, at least a part of every Cuban-American is an angry exile. This explains why they have stuck so closely together in mutual dependency. There is a strange perception that no one else understands what it is to be them.
Castro is likened to the devil and engenders a passionate hatred that is obsessive, rather like a Tony Montana vendetta. Driving away from lunch down the Calle Ocho, Little Havana's central street, I was surprised to see a large billboard bearing Castro's face. What use is a "wanted" poster in 2004 other than to instil a kind of faux dynamism to a struggle over which they have no control?
One diner, who asked not to be identified, described the reliance on America in stark terms: "The history of this country is that they only solve their own problems. If they happen to be your problems too, then you're lucky."
To reach the palatial home of Hector Lans, you drive due south from Little Havana. Suddenly the inner city gives way to huge overhanging palms, strewn with Spanish moss. Mr Lans is one of the Cuban-American super-rich, and someone who Republican strategists will be listening to with an eye on November.
He came here in 1981, made a fortune as a medical supplier, and is now co-chairman of the national Republican business advisory council. In Cuba, the regime sent him off to hunt alligators in the hope that he would be eaten. At one point, he sold his last pair of shoes to buy food for himself and his wife. He was saved by a Japanese businessman.
"I am a devout Republican. They understand much better our feeling than Democrats. In spite of this, and my admiration for the president, we expected much more."
He met several White House emissaries recently in Miami, and explained that many in the Cuban community were frustrated at watching America play world policeman in Iraq and Haiti, without any attempt to make more of an effort to export liberty to Havana: "Right after you leave this house, I am writing to Governor Bush, and I hope he pays attention.
"We are trying to unify the Cuban exile feeling. But some are saying that they would rather not vote for any party in this election at the moment.
"We have to vote for President Bush. I am a Christian, and the Bible says there are two evils, and you have to choose the smallest evil. I'm not saying he is evil of course, but neither is he a saint. He is a spiritual being, and his decisions are better than the ones the Democrats would take."
Putting it simply - in terms of political capital - does he feel let down? And could President Bush lose the goodwill of his natural supporters in the Cuban-American community?
"Absolutely, yes," he replies.
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