The Ybor City Museum Society is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization established in 1982. The society is a citizen support organization for the Ybor City Museum State Park and is committed in preserving, promoting and celebrating the unique cultural heritage of Ybor City through programs and exhibits. join & give Let's Work Together There are many ways you can help ensure that Ybor City's rich history is accessible to persons of all ages and backgrounds and preserved for future generations. Mem bership support helps the Ybor City Historical Society maintain and develop new exhibits at the Tampa Baseball Museum at the Al Lopez House, offer complimentary mobile museum programming, and provide historical and cultural resources throughout the community. Donations and corporate sponsorships p rovide the needed resources to expand programming and help the Society offer a wider range of projects and activities that preserve and promote Ybor City's heritage. Get involved so that you can be a part of our history.

The Ybor City Museum Society is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization established in 1982. The society is a citizen support organization for the Ybor City Museum State Park and is committed in preserving, promoting and celebrating the unique cultural heritage of Ybor City through programs and exhibits. donate As a nonprofit 501(c)(3), the Ybor City Historical Society depends on the generous support of our members, donors, and sponsors. The Ybor City Historical Society partners with our community members to r estore the character of Ybor City through e ducating the community about its history, a dvocating for the current community, and p reserving the cultural heritage for future generations. In doing so, we believe the entire community will REAP the benefits of our dedication. Your donation supports the mission of the Ybor City Historical Society and ensures sustainability in providing exhibits, programming, and educational experiences that preserve and share Ybor City’s unique history and cultural heritage. For more information, contact us by e-mail or by calling 813.247.1434 . There are many ways to provide charitable gifts to the Ybor City Historical Society. For cash, charitable, and honor/memorial gifts, complete the donation form. Charitable Donation Honor or Memorial Gifts Planned Giving Cash Donation Appreciated Securities Donate Today Leave a one-time donation First name Last name Email Donate in the name of: Honoree name: How did you hear about us? Street Address City Region/State/Province Postal / Zip code Country Phone Enter the amount you wish to pay: $ Donate Thank you for donating!

The Ybor City Museum Society is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization established in 1982. The society is a citizen support organization for the Ybor City Museum State Park and is committed in preserving, promoting and celebrating the unique cultural heritage of Ybor City through programs and exhibits. 2021 Recipes arroz con pollo colcannon deviled crab flan garbanzo bean soup Guava Rum cheesecake Guiguilni (Italian sesame cookies) challah cuban sandwich eggplant parmesan boats fried yuca gazpacho Mojo pork Torta pasqualina News library newsletter library recipe library events library

The Ybor City Museum Society is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization established in 1982. The society is a citizen support organization for the Ybor City Museum State Park and is committed in preserving, promoting and celebrating the unique cultural heritage of Ybor City through programs and exhibits. Part Five: ¡Ahora, Somos Americanos! / Now, We are Americans! Chapter Fifty-One Shortly after 9:30 a.m. the "Phoenix" docked in lower Manhattan. Captain Winchester informed the Tampeños that they must stay on board until an immigrations officer inspected their documents and approved entry into the U.S.A. About an hour and a half later the immigration officer arrived. He apologized for their wait, advising them that more passengers than usual are arriving in freighters. He attributed this to the political instability in Europe, especially in Spain. The process went quickly and smoothly, though he asked numerous questions about their time in Spain. He stamped their documents and welcomed them home. The relieved passengers thanked the crew and Captain Winchester. The captain had grown quite fond of the Tampeños and asked to keep in contact. They exchanged addresses, and Captain Winchester promised he would let them know if the "Phoenix" were to ever call at the Port of Tampa. Because they were the only passengers disembarking, it was easy for the Alonso and Cuesta families to locate the Tampeños. A man approached them with open arms. "Fernando, bienvenido a Nueva York! Gracias a Dios que llegaron sin problema." Amancio Alonso recognized Fernando and welcomed him to New York. He thanked God for their safe arrival. Fernando, having met Amancio in Tampa, rushed over to him. "Amancio, muchísimas gracias por todo. Esperamos que no seamos una molestia para vosotros, hombre!" Fernando thanked Amancio, and told him they hoped they weren't going to be a nuisance for them. Amancio, assuring Fernando that they would not be imposing, began a round of introductions. He and his wife, Alicia, were accompanied by Guillermo and Dolores Cuesta, the other host family. After the usual hugging and kissing, Amancio led the group out of the dock area and toward the street, luggage in tow. The noise and pace of the city immediately impressed the Tampeños, now feeling like country bumpkins. Amancio and Guillermo hailed several cabs, explaining that, unlike Tampa, very few New Yorkers owned cars. The twelve people, along with baggage, required a total of four cabs. Soon they were crossing Manhattan toward the lower West Side and Little Spain. The Alonso and Cuesta families lived in adjacent apartment buildings on 14th St. immediately across the street from La Nacional, the oldest Spanish benevolent association in New York. Many Spanish businesses and restaurants were located on this main street of the Little Spain neighborhood. Both host families luckily had sons and daughters close in age to that of the Prendes and Suárez families. This made it easier to accommodate eight people comfortably. After settling in, everyone gathered in the Alonso apartment for a large Saturday afternoon meal. Naturally, the conversation centered on the situation in Spain. The Tampeños' harrowing story captivated their hosts. News from Spain had become erratic, and communication with family and friends in Spain was impossible. What was known is that it appeared the civil war was going to be a protracted one; an early resolution was not likely. Amancio addressed the group. "Esta noche hay una reunión en La Nacional. Van a discutir cómo podemos organizarnos para apoyar la Republica." Mr. Alonso announced that there was to be a meeting that night at La Nacional, the Spanish society across the street. They were going to discuss how to organize in support of the Spanish Republic. Fernando had assumed that their hosts, like the vast majority of Spanish immigrants, were probably supporters of the Republic, but hadn't known for sure. He was relieved to know that they were in "friendly territory". The meeting was open to all members of La Nacional and their interested guests. The decision was made to attend the meeting. The children decided they would rather take advantage of seeing some of the sights of New York. The Alonso and Cuesta children were anxious to show their visitors a bit of the big city! Giuseppina and Sofia helped Alicia and Dolores clear the table and wash dishes. The men, of course, retreated to the living room for coffee, cigars, and more political discussion. The children practically ran over their parents as they rushed out to explore Manhattan with their new friends. As Alicia appeared with the coffee, Fernando suddenly got a feeling of dread and guilt, concerned over what might be happening to his family in Asturias. Something about the way Alicia was serving the coffee and passing around the cups made him think of his mother. Their rapid escape and ocean voyage had been, in some ways, a distraction from the grim reality now facing them. The hasty departure from Cuero was probably the last time he would see his parents, and possibly any of his Spanish relatives. His racing thoughts were mercifully interrupted by Guillermo. "Caballeros, me dicen que Fernando es un gaitero muy famoso. Su fama llega hasta aquí en Nueva York. Quiero ver y oír la prueba!" Guillermo, known for his humor and easy-going approach to life, chided Fernando to perhaps entertain them by playing the bagpipes. He joked that the Tampeño's fame as a master "gaitero" reached all the way to New York, and he wanted to hear and see proof of his talent. Fernando agreed, welcoming the opportunity to take his mind off of the war. Within a few minutes, Guillermo returned with a bagpipe he brought from Spain many years before, admitting he simply wasn't able to do it justice. It had been sitting idly on a shelf in a linen closet. Fernando brought it to life, so much so that within a few minutes several Spanish neighbors joined them. A spontaneous fiesta was the perfect way to end the afternoon. By 7:30 p.m. La Nacional was filled to capacity. There was no theater or auditorium as such, but the ball room was set up with folding chairs and a make-shift dais. The evening began as a special general meeting of La Nacional's membership. The purpose was to take a vote formalizing the support of the organization for the legally elected Spanish Second Republic. While the vast majority of the members supported the resolution, a small but vocal minority voiced opposition. Some claimed neutrality was best, others supported the Nationalist rebels. Shouts of "communists" and "fascist Hitler-lovers" filled the air. Two men exchanged blows and were ejected from the building. It was obvious that Spain's crisis was resonating among its ex-patriots here in New York. Fernando wondered if the same was happening in Tampa. After the chaos subsided, a vote was taken and as expected, the resolution passed by a landslide. Members who were opposed would be entitled to a full refund of their annual dues. Ignacio, whispering to Fernando, wondered if perhaps this was a way of identifying the fascists among the membership; both men chuckled softly. The Spanish consul of New York addressed the crowd, thanking everyone for the show of solidarity. Representatives of various trade unions spoke of efforts to raise funds and send supplies to the Republican government. It was obvious that the community here in New York was organizing in response to the crisis in Spain. After the meeting, there was a social hour. The Tampeños were introduced to many friends of their hosts. The visitors were amazed at how strong the connections between the two Spanish communities were. Practically every person they met had friends or relatives, or both, living in Tampa. When the economic depression arrived, many Tampeños moved to New York in search of jobs. Several of these transplants were at the meeting, and were anxious to hear news from "home" and to chat about the "old days" in quaint Tampa. Ignacio turned to Fernando. "Bueno, Gaitero. Parece que lo que dicen es verdad. "Tampa es una trampa". Ignacio, quoting one of his favorite witticisms, told Fernando that the old saying, "Tampa is a trap", appears to hold true. Tampa, in its own quirky way, leaves its imprint on those who are born there or have adopted it as their home. Tampeños may leave Tampa, but Tampa never completely leaves a Tampeño. The men laughed out loud, agreeing that this seemed to be true. It was now 10:00 p.m. The visitors from Tampa had insisted on treating the Alonsos and Cuestas to dinner. The children were still out on the town. Reservations had been made at "El Chico" restaurant, a few blocks away. It was New York's oldest and best-known Spanish restaurant, owned by a fellow Asturian. Dinner was excellent, a combination of classic Spanish food with some Latin American specialties on the menu as well. A wonderful flamenco show added to the festivities. It was 1: 00 a.m. by the time the adults got back to the apartments. The four mothers personally checked to make sure all the children were safely asleep. As a group, they knocked on each of the children's bedroom doors, verifying that all were accounted for. They laughed as they "made the rounds", blaming the wine at dinner for their silly behavior. The Tampeños' first day in New York had certainly been memorable, for a variety of reasons. Giuseppina had arranged with Dolores and Alicia to prepare a traditional Sunday afternoon Sicilian family dinner. Though Little Italy was relatively close to Little Spain, the Alonsos and the Cuestas were not very familiar with Sicilian home cooking and welcomed the generosity of their guests. The four mothers arose before everyone else and went on a shopping expedition to nearby Little Italy. By 11:30 a.m. a large pot of "sugo siciliano" was simmering on the stove in the Alonso's apartment. "Sugo" is the traditional Sicilian term for tomato-based pasta sauce. Giuseppina was amused when the clerk in one of the Italian stores referred to it as "gravy". Alicia and Dolores were equally amused when they saw that Giuseppina added, in addition to various meats, two dozen hard boiled eggs to the sugo. The four women laughed as they compared local idiosyncrasies. As the others awoke, they gathered in the large kitchen, which was now functioning as a Sicilian cooking school, with Dolores and Alicia taking notes. By 3:00 p.m. the group of 16 people were feasting on seemingly endless platters of Sicilian delicacies. Silence replaced the simultaneous talking that normally prevailed. Giuseppina and her "assistant", Sofia, proudly observed as their families and guests enjoyed the new experience. "Fernando y yo hicimos llamadas esta mañana. Conseguimos reservaciones para el tren a Tampa el miércoles. Llegarèmos el jueves. No había disponibilidad hasta ese día. Esperamos que no presenta problema para vosotros. Podemos conseguir un hotel sin ningún problema." Ignacio announced that he and Fernando had made phone calls that morning and were able to get train reservations to Tampa for the following Wednesday. They would arrive in Tampa on Thursday. They had tried to get reservations for an earlier day, but there was no availability for eight people. Ignacio hoped this wasn't a problem and said they could go to a hotel. Almost simultaneously, Guillermo and Amancio assured them that all was fine, and they welcomed them to stay as long as necessary. Dolores joked that the only problem would be the weight gain if Giuseppina continued to prepare the meals. Everyone laughed, as more food emerged from the kitchen. Monday and Tuesday were spent enjoying the sites of New York. The Alonsos and Cuestas were the most generous of hosts. Amancio and Guillermo co-owned a small cigar factory of approximately 40 employees. These were known as "chinchales", the Spanish word for bedbugs, due to their small size. In Tampa, they were also known as "Buckeyes", but no one seemed to know exactly why. Amancio and Guillermo were successful, having carved out a large local market for their high-quality cigars. Their tour of New York included a visit to the factory. The visitors were struck by the similarity to those found in Tampa. Many of the employees they met had spent time in Tampa prior to moving on to New York. Most had learned the trade in either Tampa or Havana. This reinforced the fact that Tampa was the focal point of cigar manufacturing, and the ties between the New York and Tampa Spanish immigrant communities were many. New York's Penn Station was not particularly busy. The Silver Meteor train to Tampa was scheduled to depart at 3:00 p.m. Always obsessively early, Fernando had insisted on arriving two hours before departure. Amancio and Guillermo had returned to work after their "mini vacation" as hosts. Dolores and Alicia had accompanied the travelers to the station. The families had bonded during the past four days, and the farewell was emotional. The New Yorkers promised they would visit Tampa in the near future. The Tampeños checked their baggage and enjoyed a quick tour of the majestic train station. They boarded the Silver Meteor at 2:15 p.m. At precisely 3:00 p.m. the train slowly pulled out of Penn Station. Unable to obtain sleeper accommodations, the travelers settled in for what would be a night of trying to sleep in their seats. Fernando reminisced on his trip from Havana to Tampa on the Mascotte, remembering that hard wooden bench that served as his bed. Certainly, these train seats were more comfortable, but his being 36 years older would probably offset the difference. He was anticipating a difficult night but decided to shift his focus and enjoy this last part of this great adventure. As expected, Rafael and Luciano were rarely to be found in their seats. After several walks from one end of the Silver Meteor to the other they finally returned to their seats. After a few hours the train slowed as it entered Union Station in Washington, D.C. The conductor announced this would be an extended stop of 50 minutes. Luciano, wanting to get a quick glimpse of the nation's capital, asked if it would be possible to disembark. The conductor said it would be, but to make certain they retained their tickets for reboarding. As the train came to a halt in the cavernous station, the Tampeños gathered their belongings and walked briskly into the terminal and onto the street. From the main entrance they could see the U.S. Capitol, its white dome just visible above the many trees lining the streets. Luciano and Rafael asked permission to run ahead of them for a better view. Their parents agreed, reminding them to keep an eye on the time. The departure from Washington was anticlimactic, as the route was via underground tracks. By the time the train surfaced, the beautiful rolling hills of Virginia were visible. After a short time, they were called to the dining car. The conductor had thoughtfully arranged two tables across from each other. As Ignacio began eating his delicious fried chicken, he commented to the others. "Saben que esta es una de las pocas veces que he comido comida americana tradicional. Está deliciosa." He said this was one of the few times he has eaten traditional American food, and he found it to be delicious. After some exclamation of surprise, the group realized that this was logical. The typical immigrant living in West Tampa or Ybor City in 1936 would have had limited exposure to American culture. Their children, on the other hand, had begun the great process of assimilation. By the time dinner was over, the sun had set. The Tampeños began the process of trying to convert their seats into makeshift beds. Using the blankets and pillows that had been provided, they had limited success. Adding to their restlessness was the anticipation of finally getting home after an exciting, but stressful, adventure. "Next stop, Savannah, Georgia! Next stop, Savannah, Georgia!" It was approximately 6:30 a.m. and the Silver Meteor was entering Savannah. Mercifully, the several stops during the night had no ticketed passengers, and the sleeping passengers had been spared additional interruptions. The conductor advised them that if they wanted breakfast, they should proceed to the dining car shortly. In Jacksonville, Florida, their car would be switched to another train headed to Tampa and St. Petersburg. The remainder of the train, with the dining car, would continue down Florida's east coast to Miami. Shortly after breakfast they completed the transfer in Jacksonville. By 2:30 p.m. they were slowly passing through Ybor City. The tracks paralleled and were immediately next to 6th Ave. Excitedly, they identified familiar landmarks that somehow looked a bit different from their perspective. After pulling onto a set of side tracks, the Silver Meteor began slowly backing into Tampa Union Station. Fernando turned to his fellow travelers. "Bueno, quizás Tampa es una trampa, pero es una trampa que adoro. Finalmente, estamos en casa." He told the group that perhaps Tampa was a "trap", but it was a trap that he adored. They were finally home. Thanksgiving had become Fernando's favorite holiday. He viewed it as the quintessential American celebration, and it was on this day that he felt the most "American". He often reminisced of his first Thanksgiving 38 years ago at La Gallega boarding house, a few weeks after his arrival in Tampa. So much had transpired, most of it for which he felt grateful. This particular Thanksgiving of 1938 was one of conflicting emotions. The Spanish Civil War raged on with no end in sight, and recent reports suggested the fascist rebels under General Francisco Franco were likely to prevail in overthrowing the legally elected government. Its ferocity exceeded what anyone had expected. The German and Italian air forces, especially the Condor Legion of the Luftwaffe, were regularly bombing civilian and military targets. The United States, along with most of the world, failed to support the democratically elected Spanish Republic. The war had so far killed close to half a million Spaniards, many of them civilians. This represented one out of every fifty Spaniards. News was sketchy, and Fernando had virtually no information concerning his family. On the brighter side, Fernando and his family were well. Carmela and her husband had given Fernando and Giuseppina their first grandchild. Pilar was engaged to a wonderful man, and Luciano was in his senior year at Hillsborough High School. Not only was he an outstanding scholar, but a star player on the school's football team, one of the best in the state. Luciano had grown into a strong and agile young man, and one of the best high school fullbacks in the state of Florida. At times, Fernando couldn't reconcile the conflict and the guilt he felt. His idyllic life in Tampa certainly was a stark contrast to the hell his family in Spain was probably enduring. As he smelled the aromas coming from the kitchen, he wondered if his family had any food at all. His despairing thoughts were mercifully interrupted. "Papa, me voy! El partido empieza a la una y el equipo tiene que estar en la escuela a las once y media. Voy con Frank en el tranvía." Luciano, in his usual booming voice, told Fernando that the game started at 1:00p.m. and the team needed to be at the school at 11:30 a.m. He said that Frank and he would go on the streetcar. Fernando raced over to his son before he could run out the door. He grabbed him by both shoulders and planted a kiss on each of his cheeks. Luciano, smiling, reciprocated. Fernando proudly watched from the front porch as his son ran two houses over to meet his good friend and teammate, Frank Busto. Frank was the quarterback on the team. "The game" to which Luciano referred was Tampa's most important football game of the year. It pitted Hillsborough High against arch-rival Plant High School. Hillsborough was located in the working-class neighborhood of Seminole Heights, just north of Ybor City. Plant High was located across the city in the Palma Ceia neighborhood. The rivalry was intense, and the game was traditionally played on Thanksgiving afternoon. These two schools were the only two public "white" schools in Tampa. Many people viewed the rivalry as a match between the elite and wealthy professionals of South Tampa, and the blue-collar working classes of Seminole Heights, West Tampa, and Ybor City. Hillsborough High was the high school for the vast majority of the immigrants and their children. This year's game was especially important, as the winner would earn the championship for the central part of Florida, and the right to play for the Florida state championship. After the game, the Suárez family and their friends would enjoy a Thanksgiving dinner at the Suárez home. As usual, Fernando insisted on arriving at the game early. Fortunately, this year's game was at Hillsborough High, only a ten-minute drive from El Barrio Candamo. Ignacio, Sofia, and Rafael met them at the stadium entrance. Rafael, already graduated from Hillsborough High, had been an excellent football player as well. Not as stocky as Luciano, he was better suited for baseball, and was a first baseman in the semi-pro leagues. Sofia and Giuseppina spent most of the game discussing the Thanksgiving dinner preparations, as well as praying that Luciano would not be injured. Rafael sat between Ignacio and Fernando, explaining the rules of the game as it unfolded. Rafael explained that because of their size, fullbacks are usually used to block for their quarterbacks, as well as for short yardage gains. Luciano was versatile in that he was also a fast runner, despite his large size. Rafael hoped, but doubted, that they were understanding. As expected, the game was a thrilling one. The roar of the crowd was so loud, Rafael gave up trying to explain what was happening because it was impossible to hear him. With two seconds left on the clock, Plant was ahead by a score of ten to six. Hillsborough had the ball on the Plant three-yard line, and it was fourth down. The ball was snapped to Frank Busto, the quarterback. The coach had allowed Frank to call the play, but Frank misread the defensive lineup. Luciano, lined up next to him, realized what had happened. Frank and Luciano had fantasized about and practiced this situation numerous times in sandlot football at Cuscaden Park, near El Barrio Candamo. He yelled out to Frank, as the game clock hit zero and the final buzzer could be heard. The play was still in motion. "Paco, la falsificación! La falsificación! Aquí, hombre!" Luciano had yelled out, in Spanish, "Frankie, the fake! The fake! Right here, man!" The defensive players frantically looked around them, totally confused. Frank knew what to do. As his arm came forward he circled to his right, lobbing the ball to Luciano, now about eight yards from the goal line. Thrusting forward, he got to about the three and a half yard line. Three of Plant's largest defensive linemen, now having read the fake, were upon him. Luciano dug in his cleats. With his head down, the ball clutched firmly against his chest, he thrust forward with all his strength, dragging the three linemen with him. About a foot from the goal line, he knew his knees were about to hit the turf. Closing his eyes, he took the ball and plunged it forward with as much strength as he could muster. He hit the turf, rolling over on his back. Glancing to his left, he saw the referee raising both arms, signaling a touchdown. Hillsborough won the game, thirteen to ten. Neither an explanation nor a translation was needed for Luciano's and Rafael's parents to understand what had just happened. Most of the fans, including them and Rafael, raced onto the field. In a scene reminiscent of the Roman legions having returned home after defeating Carthage, Luciano's teammates had lifted him onto their shoulders and were parading around the field. He may as well have been a victorious Roman general. The celebration was marred as disappointed Plant High fans began throwing wadded up paper wrappers and anything else they could find at the celebrants. Several policemen dispersed the crowd. The coaches wisely began to hurry their teams away. Luciano called out to his parents. "Mama, papa. Les quiero muchísimo. Les veo en una hora, en casa, y vamos a comer pavo!" The game hero told his parents than he loved them very much and would see them in an hour, at home, and that they would eat turkey. Little did Luciano realize that he had just given Giuseppina and Fernando a gift far more valuable than his having won a game that would go down in school history. In the midst of a celebration with his peers, he remembered who he is and from where he came. Rafael told his parents that he was going to meet the guys in the locker room to share in the celebration. He would meet them at the Suárez home with Luciano and Frank. As the parents neared the parking lot, they became aware of a man ranting in a loud voice. Apparently, the father of one of the Plant High players had enjoyed too much bourbon during the game. His anger and disappointment over the outcome of the game had gotten the better of him. "Get me the hell back to the white part of town! I hate these damned spics and talleys and all these low-class cracker Latin-lovers that put up with them! This country should throw them out and make us clean again!" Only Fernando was able to understand the gist of what was being said. After being asked by the others, he reluctantly translated the man's opinions. Ignacio, always a bit more confrontational than Fernando, raced toward the man. Fernando unsuccessfully tried to stop him. Ignacio, stopping a few feet from the man, yelled out. "Somos americanos tanto como tú! Eres una desgracia para este gran país!" "We are as American as you! You are a disgrace to this great country!" The drunk man clenched his fist, pulled back, and swung directly at Ignacio. The intended target, always quick on his feet, averted the punch. Ignacio immediately swung back, landing his fist squarely on the aggressor's nose. Blood gushed out. Women screamed. Within seconds, two policemen appeared. Luckily, one of the policemen had been close enough to witness the confrontation, acknowledging that Ignacio had responded in self-defense. Fernando approached the policeman, explaining that Ignacio did not speak English. The officer agreed to have him translate. After asking for identification from both men, the officer asked if Ignacio wanted to press charges. He declined, wishing to put the entire affair to rest. After Fernando and Ignacio managed to calm Sofia and Giuseppina, the two couples returned to their cars. No one spoke during the ride back to El Barrio Candamo. As 1938 drew to a close, Fernando's conflicted feelings grew in intensity. He and his family were relishing in their good fortune. Luciano was scheduled to graduate from high school the following June, and he had been accepted to the University of Florida and a position on their football team. He was awarded a full scholarship based on both his athletic and academic achievements. In early December, Hillsborough High played for the Florida state football championship, losing to Robert E. Lee High School of Jacksonville. Naturally, Luciano was disappointed at the outcome, but his parents were proud of the mature manner in which he accepted the defeat. Carmela and her family were well and comfortably settled. Pilar was due to marry in June, two weeks after Luciano's high school graduation. Fernando and Giuseppina were grateful beyond words for their personal situation. On the contrary, Fernando's feelings of near euphoria were tempered by the news from Spain, which grew worse by the day. Recent Nationalist rebel victories gave the Fascists control of most of the country, with the exception of Asturias, parts of Castile, and the capital city, Madrid. The siege of Madrid, ongoing since October 1936, was one bastion of "hope against hope" for the Republicans. The Republican slogan had become "They Shall Not Pass!", in Spanish, "No Pasarán!" Leopoldo Gonzalez, a cigar maker and musician from Tampa had composed a song of the same name, incorporating the slogan and words of encouragement. The song was played at numerous pro-Republican rallies and fundraisers, not only in Tampa, but in cities across the U.S.A. While proud that Asturias had mounted some of the fiercest anti-Fascist resistance in the war, Fernando dreaded the thought of the price which was paid. It was now a week before Christmas. The "Tampa Democratic Popular Committee to Aid Spain" had issued an appeal for the community to replace Christmas gift-giving with donations to aid Spain. They sought not only cash, but donations of clothing and first aid items such as bandages. Hundreds of thousands of Republican Spaniards, sensing that defeat was near, were beginning to flee across the frigid Pyrenees Mountains into France. Along with other organizations, the Committee was holding a rally at the Centro Asturiano clubhouse that evening. Spain was desperate. The grand theater of the Centro Asturiano was filled beyond capacity. People were sitting in the aisles. Those not able to enter were milling about the ball room, the cantina, and the hallways. Expecting an overflow crowd, the organizers had arranged for the speakers' voices to be broadcast throughout the building. Predictably, the Suárez and Prendes families were early arrivals. They sat together, close to the stage. To the delight of the older members of the families, most of their children and their families attended as well. The list of speakers was impressive. In addition to all the leading progressive activists in Tampa, many important figures from other cities were there as well. Most impressively, the current ambassador from the Spanish Republic to the United States, Don Fernando De Los Ríos, had flown in from Washington, D.C. He was accompanied by Gustavo Jimenez, the Spanish Consul in Tampa. For nearly two hours, the various speakers spoke of the dire situation in Spain, and the humanitarian effort before them. They thanked the people of Ybor City and West Tampa for their activism and the supplies, money and ambulances that had been donated in support of the Republic. Women, in particular, were singled out for their protest march in 1937 in response to the bombing of civilians in Gernika by the German Luftwaffe. Lastly, the Spanish ambassador, referring to Tampa as the "altar of Spain" in the U.S.A., announced that Tampa, in support of the Republic, had raised more money, per capita, than any other American city. The ambassador also paid tribute to the Sicilian and Cuban communities for their strong support as well. As the crowd rose to their feet in thunderous applause, Fernando shouted to Ignacio. "Mira Zapato, oigo las palabras, pero me suena como están dando gracias por una causa perdida, y cuando ellos hablan de la gloria de la República, me hace recordar de como hablan de una persona fallecida en su velorio." Fernando told Ignacio that he hears what they're saying, but it feels as though they're giving thanks for supporting a lost cause. He added that when he hears them speak of the glories of the Republic, it reminds him of how people speak of a deceased person at their wake. Ignacio agreed, saying that the gist of what they were hearing is that money and supplies are needed more as humanitarian relief than for doing battle. After the program, there was a reception and refreshments were served in the large ballroom. As Fernando wandered through the crowd and spoke with friends, the pessimism was palpable. It seemed that 1939 was going to be a year of much joy and much sorrow. He remembered that he once read a historian's comment concerning Spain. The historian said that throughout history, Spain displayed two faces, one is fiesta and the other is tragedy. His personal life was perhaps mimicking that of his native land. The Christmas and New Year’s celebrations were spent in the normal fashion. There were many large gatherings with family and friends, ending with the traditional New Year's Day feast at the Licata farm. Gaetano and Sebastiana were now in their early 80s, and healthy. Fernando couldn't help but wonder how his own parents were faring during these difficult years. During the weeks that followed, the civil war was the focus of the immigrant communities in Tampa. There were gatherings in the homes of those with a shortwave radio, where they listened to "La Voz de Madrid" ("The Voice of Madrid") for the latest war news. The primary source of printed news for Tampa's Latin community was "La Gaceta", a tri-lingual newspaper founded in 1922. It followed the civil war closely and was a staunch supporter of the Republic and progressive movements in general. Approximately 27 Tampeño men served with the Lincoln Brigade, a group of volunteers attached to the International Brigades that fought for the Spanish Republic. One of them, Gonzalo Borrell, served as an unofficial war correspondent for “La Gaceta”, somehow managing to transmit his stories via France. While grateful for the news out of Spain, the community was disheartened by the course of events. Fernando considered the American custom of "April Fools' Day" odd, yet somewhat charming. It was his children who introduced him to this yearly ritual, having learned of it at school. Saturday, April 1st, 1939 began as a crisp spring day. April had become Fernando's favorite month. Normally, the summer heat and humidity had not yet arrived, and it was often the driest part of the year. Fernando was enjoying his early morning café con leche on his front porch. He had just begun reading "La Gaceta" when he heard Luciano, yelling from a distance. "Papa, papa! Has oído lo que pasó?" Luciano was running from the Busto home toward his father. Fernando assumed it was part of Luciano's yearly April Fools' pranks. Always anxious to play along, Fernando threw the newspaper to the floor. Raising his hands to his face in a comical and exaggerated look of surprise, he responded to his son. "Dios mío, hijo! Que coño ha pasado!" By now Luciano had run up the steps and was on the porch, near his father. Immediately, Fernando could see that this was not a joke. The elder Suárez stood and looked at his son. "Papa, la guerra ha terminado! Paco y yo estábamos escuchando la radio americana y interrumpieron el programa. Parece que las tropas republicanas en Alicante se han rendido a los Fascistas". Luciano said that Frank and he were listening to an American radio program when it was interrupted. The Spanish civil war was over. The troops in Alicante, the last Republican stronghold, had surrendered. Fernando and Luciano rushed into the living room and turned on the radio. The phone was ringing. Ignacio, hearing the news, had telephoned Fernando. After a rambling exchange of emotions between the two Spaniards, Fernando returned to the living room. Giuseppina and Pilar joined them. They sat in silence as the grim news got even worse. General Franco was showing no mercy. Many of the Republican troops scrambled to get onboard the British coal ship, the Stanbrook. It was the last ship able to leave prior to the official end of the war. Many of the those left behind were mercilessly slaughtered by the Nationalist troops. While not totally surprised by this news, the Spaniards and other immigrants of Tampa were devastated by the collapse of the Spanish "experiment" with democracy. Within days, many countries, including the United States, had officially recognized the dictatorship of General Francisco Franco as the legitimate government of Spain. In the eyes of many immigrant Spaniards, any hopes of returning to their beloved homeland were forever dashed. "I do swear true faith and allegiance to the Constitution and to defend it against all enemies, foreign and domestic." With those words, Fernando and Ignacio, along with dozens of others, were now U.S. citizens. The Suárez and Prendes families descended the steps of the Federal Courthouse in downtown Tampa. It was late May, and the Spanish Civil War had ended almost two months prior. Many Spaniards across the U.S.A., previously hoping to return to Spain, had neglected to obtain U.S. citizenship. Now that Spain was firmly in the grip of a fascist dictatorship, that quickly changed. Within months of the war's end, thousands of Spaniards renounced their allegiance to Spain and began the process of becoming American citizens. The events of the weeks that followed offered Fernando and his family the opportunity to distract themselves from the dire situation in Spain. Luciano graduated from Hillsborough High School with honors, ranking fourth in his class of 663 graduates. He would be working at the Licata farm until his departure for the University of Florida in Gainesville in early September. Pilar's wedding took place several weeks later. She married Victor Castellano, a young man from West Tampa. He was an accountant at the prestigious Cuesta-Rey cigar factory, having obtained a degree in accounting from the University of Tampa. The newlyweds' future appeared to be promising. The International Red Cross was offering to assist people in obtaining information about relatives in Spain. Fernando and Ignacio, immediately following the end of the war, had contacted them and filled out the necessary papers. The process was lengthy and challenging, as Franco had immediately imposed a travel and communications embargo. Spain was now essentially an isolated country. The whole of Europe was now in a precarious geopolitical situation. Adolf Hitler, emboldened by his unchallenged annexations of Austria and part of Czechoslovakia, as well as the fascist victory in Spain, appeared intent on moving into Poland. Fernando, though content with his family, feared for the future as the summer of 1939 was drawing to a close. Fernando commented on how hilly the terrain was. They were only about 35 miles north of Tampa, but it seemed as if they had been transported to Georgia or Alabama. Gainesville was another 100 miles down the road, and Fernando was enjoying the trip. Luciano had made the same trip by train in June, so he had offered to drive. This would permit his parents the chance to relax and take in the scenery. Giuseppina, already missing her son, sat silently in the back seat. Mile after mile of orange groves occasionally gave way to pastureland dotted with grazing cows. Fernando realized how different and culturally distinct Tampa was from anything else for many miles surrounding it. Almost hypnotized by the calm beauty of the scenery, his thoughts drifted to Spain and his relatives there. It was Friday, August 31st, 1939 and the war in Spain had ended five months prior. It was starting to become a distant memory, the only reminder being the occasional letter from the Red Cross informing him that they still had no definitive word on his family. Luciano's voice startled him. "Papa, creo que quiero estudiar para ser ingeniero. Me gustaría construir cosas como carreteras o puentes. Que piensas?" Luciano, recognizing the now too familiar melancholy look on his dad's face, tried to distract him. He told Fernando that he was thinking of majoring in engineering. He relished the idea of building highways or bridges. He asked his father what he thought of the idea. "Hijo, lo que quiero para todos mis hijos es que sean feliz y saludable. Eso es lo más importante en la vida. Estudias lo que te trae felicidad." Fernando replied that what he wants for all his children are health and happiness. He told Luciano that he should study whatever would bring him satisfaction. Luciano rubbed his father's knee affectionately. They didn't notice it, but Giuseppina was silently shedding tears. She was overcome with emotion. The pride of having a son that was going away to college, the sadness of not having him close by, and the knowledge of how deeply he loved his family had overcome her. After stopping for a light lunch, the Tampeños arrived in Gainesville just before noon. They dropped Luciano off at his dormitory and then checked into a motel they had reserved. They would meet their son for dinner and spend the next two days attending orientation activities organized by the university. Fernando, always the explorer, suggested to Giuseppina that they drive around Gainesville for a while. This was their first experience with "mid-America". Other than New York City, or Sundays at Clearwater Beach, Tampa was the only place in the U.S.A. with which they were familiar. The university campus was impressive. The red brick buildings and tree-lined streets had the look of a classic "university town" as portrayed in the movies. Pines and other hardwood trees far outnumbered palms and other tropical foliage. Some areas of the city had somewhat hilly streets. Though only 140 miles away from Tampa, the contrast was staggering. As Giuseppina and Fernando were soon to learn, this stark contrast was not limited to just the foliage and the terrain. After driving around the small city, Fernando and Giuseppina decided to stop for ice cream in the charming downtown area of Gainesville. The ice cream shop was rather full, but they were able to sit at a small table near the entrance. Soon after they were seated, Giuseppina happened to notice that several people at a nearby table kept glancing at her. Not able to speak or read English, Giuseppina asked Fernando to translate the small menu. She spoke in a somewhat loud voice, due to the amount of noise in the room. This seemed to attract even more attention from several nearby tables. Soon after placing their order, a woman at another table stood up and approached Fernando and Giuseppina. She addressed Giuseppina, smiling and speaking with a heavy Southern accent. "Excuse me. I do apologize for disturbing you. I'm afraid my friends and I were being rude, and that was certainly not the intention. We couldn't help but notice your beautiful earrings and the fact that your ears are pierced. They look lovely, and it's something we simply don't see around here. You're a beautiful woman, and those earrings enhance your beauty. I'm tempted to have my own ears pierced." Fernando, in his limited but sufficient English, explained that his wife did not speak or understand English, and asked the woman if he could translate what she said. The woman, smiling, agreed. Giuseppina nodded her head, thanking the woman and smiling. The woman, in perfect Spanish, responded. "Yo pensaba que ustedes estaban hablando castellano, pero con tanto ruido, no podía entenderles bien. Y ahora que oigo mejor, yo sé, por el acento, que ustedes son españoles, verdad?" Fernando and Giuseppina were taken by surprise. She told them that she thought they were speaking Spanish, but because of all the noise, she couldn't understand them well. Now that she could clearly hear them, because of their accent, she recognized them as Spaniards. She continued, explaining that she is a professor of Spanish and Portuguese at the University of Florida, and spent two years studying Spanish at the University of Salamanca in Spain. Continuing the conversation in Spanish, Fernando and Giuseppina complimented her on her perfect Spanish. They then spent several minutes getting acquainted. She was fascinated that Giuseppina, though Sicilian, could speak Spanish so well. Having an interest in Latin-based languages, she asked Giuseppina to say a few words in Sicilian. Knowing some Italian, the woman was fascinated at how different the two languages are. She had heard of Tampa's diverse immigrant community but had not met anyone from there. She further commented that this was the first time she had encountered native Spanish speakers in Gainesville. Having researched Hispanic immigration to the U.S.A., she also told the Tampeños that as far as she knew, the only two cities in Florida where Spanish was widely spoken were Key West and Tampa. She congratulated them on Luciano's achievements, and introduced herself as she handed them a business card. Her name was Dr. Rachel Young. She then handed them a second card and said that if Luciano needed help with anything at all, he could contact her. She returned to her friends. Fernando and Giuseppina finished their ice cream treats. As they were leaving, they smiled and waved to Dr. Young and her friends. As they were driving back to the motel, Giuseppina commented on how a seemingly trivial act of kindness can make such a difference. She confessed that she had been harboring many concerns about Luciano being in an unfamiliar place, particularly one so culturally distinct from Tampa. She felt much better after encountering Dr. Young. She was particularly grateful for the professor's offer to assist Luciano if necessary. Fernando commented that he really hadn't realized just how different their lives in Tampa were, compared to many other American cities and towns, especially those in Florida. In New York, it was almost impossible to feel "different", in that almost every nationality and culture on earth existed within the city, but that was the exception. Gainesville was a new experience for them, and they realized that assimilation into mainstream American life would not be in their future. Early risers, Fernando and Giuseppina were the first customers in the motel coffee shop. As they glanced over the menu, Fernando smiled and looked over at his wife. "Pina, quizás si comemos un desayuno típico americano, seríamos un poco menos extraños! Tenemos que pedir huevos fritos, harina de maíz, y tocino. Vamos a probar el café americano, lo que llamamos 'agua sucia'!" Gaitero was in a jocular mood. He suggested to Giuseppina that if they were to eat a typical American breakfast, perhaps they would appear a bit less strange. He suggested ordering fried eggs, grits, and bacon, using the term "cornmeal" for grits. He even suggested that they try American coffee, which is referred to as "dirty water" by many Tampeños! Pina laughed, reminding him that she actually enjoyed "typical American" food, even the coffee. She confessed that she and her sisters frequented Morrison's Cafeteria whenever they went shopping in downtown Tampa. They chuckled and ordered their food. Giuseppina excused herself to go to the ladies' room and Fernando got in line at the cash register to pay their bill. A radio was on the windowsill next to the register, barely audible to anyone except the cashier. As Fernando stepped to the front of the line, the cashier, apologizing, turned away and raised the volume on the radio. The musical program had been interrupted by a news bulletin. Early in the morning, European time, Germany had invaded Poland with a massive air and ground assault. Several other employees and customers gathered near the radio. Giuseppina, now standing next to Fernando, asked what was happening. Fernando explained the seriousness of the situation. Fernando could hear comments like "this is Europe's business, not ours", and "I fought in the Great War and I want no part of this". England and France issued an ultimatum to Germany. If they did not withdraw their forces from Poland by Monday, September 3rd, they would declare war on Germany. This was two days away. As Fernando and Giuseppina drove to Luciano's dormitory, he silently contemplated what the future might hold. He couldn't help but think that this was not unrelated to Germany's and Italy's military successes in supporting the Spanish fascists during the Spanish civil war. Saturday and Sunday were spent touring the campus and attending several orientation functions. Luciano anxiously spoke of the current international crisis, even suggesting he would leave the university and enter the military should the U.S.A. enter a future conflict. Giuseppina, normally soft spoken, vehemently chastised him for such thoughts. On Sunday evening, Fernando and Giuseppina treated Luciano to a farewell dinner at Gainesville's best steakhouse. Luciano had his first class early the next morning, and they probably wouldn't see him again until Thanksgiving. As Fernando drove away from the dormitory, Giuseppina quietly wept. "EUROPE AT WAR!!" The headline in the Monday morning edition of "The Gainesville Sun" newspaper was clear, even to someone whose ability to read English was limited. As Fernando dropped a nickel into the slot to complete his purchase of the newspaper, his mind was racing. Several hours ago, England and France had declared war on Germany. The U.S.A. had formally declared its neutrality, but Fernando knew that this would inevitably change, unless the conflict was quickly resolved. He was not optimistic that this would occur. For the first time ever, he found himself wishing that he and Giuseppina had had only daughters. He walked back to the motel room and retrieved Giuseppina and their luggage. The Tampeños began their quiet drive to Tampa and the familiarity of Ybor City, West Tampa, and their "Barrio Candamo". Chapter Fifty-Two Chapter Fifty-Three Chapter Fifty-Four Chapter Fifty-Five Click Here For Part Six

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The Ybor City Museum Society is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization established in 1982. The society is a citizen support organization for the Ybor City Museum State Park and is committed in preserving, promoting and celebrating the unique cultural heritage of Ybor City through programs and exhibits. Cigar makers at the Hav-A-Tampa Cigar Co., 1927 Open sack of tobacco at Cuesta Rey and Co., 1947 Men boxing Tampa Nugget cigars at the Hav-A-Tampa Cigar Company, 1939 Cigar makers at the Hav-A-Tampa Cigar Co., 1927 1/12 Part One: A trabajar / get to work Chapter Twelve Ignacio explained that "La Gallega" is where he has lived for the past 3 years. Ybor City had many boarding houses that catered to single men, mostly Spaniards, but this one had earned the reputation of being the best. He had arranged for Fernando and him to share one of the larger rooms. Zapato gestured to Gaitero to pass through the small gate. As the two men walked onto the porch Fernando could hear the loud din of many people speaking simultaneously, both in Spanish and Galician. Passing through the front door, they were greeted by an incredibly good aroma of food, accented with the sweetness of fine Cuban leaf cigars. They entered a single large room running the full width of the building. To the right was a sitting area. On the left was a large dining area with several long tables. Every chair was occupied. As they became available, other diners would emerge from the sitting area and claim them. The vast majority of those eating were men. Ignacio explained that most were permanent boarders, while others were there just for lunch. Many of the men were wearing high-collared, long-sleeved white shirts, and ties. Several servers were dashing in and out of a kitchen located at the rear of the dining room, carrying steaming bowls and platters of copious amounts of food. Fernando realized that he was very hungry. "Sígueme, Gaitero. Quiero presentarte a los dueños. Son una pareja encantadora. Muy buena gente". Ignacio told Fernando to follow him, as he wanted to introduce him to the owners of La Gallega, of whom he was very fond. He assured his friend that they were a charming couple. Zapato guided Fernando through the crowded room, exchanging greetings with those they passed. They entered the kitchen. There was a frenzy of activity....workers dashing about, quickly ladling food from large pots to waiting bowls and plates. A rather large but well-proportioned woman seemed to be in charge, monitoring all that was happening. She appeared to be in her forties. Ignacio approached her. "Maruxa, te quiero presentar a Fernando Suárez Menéndez, mi mejor amigo. También es de Candamo. Gaitero, esta señora es Maruxa Varela, conocida como 'La Gallega'. Y Aniceto, donde está?" He had introduced Maruxa to his best friend, explaining Gaitero was also from Candamo in Asturias. She was well-known as "La Gallega" (the Galician woman) and the boarding house bore her nickname. Zapato wondered where her husband and business partner, Aniceto, might be. "Non outro asturiano! Eu quería outro galego. Pero está ben, deixarémosche quedar! Bienvenido, home novo." In her native Galician language, she had warmly welcomed Fernando to his new home. He was familiar enough with the language to understand her. Yielding to the traditional friendly "competition" between Galicians and their next-door neighbors, the Asturians, Maruxa had jokingly expressed disappointment that he was yet another Asturian and not Galician! She embraced both Spaniards with hugs and the usual kisses on each cheek. Zapato handed her the three loaves of bread he had purchased. She smiled broadly and gave him an extra hug. This was his usual Friday afternoon gift to Maruxa, for her personal enjoyment. She particularly relished the shorter, more familiar loaf......a "barra gallega", the Galician loaf typical of her homeland. "Ahora, a comer!" Maruxa, switching to Spanish, had announced that now it was time to eat, nudging the young men toward the dining room as she took Gaitero's satchel and placed it in a corner of the kitchen. Fernando and Ignacio took their seats. It was now just before two o'clock in the afternoon, and they looked forward to what is traditionally the largest meal of the day for Spaniards. As Fernando glanced around the room, he allowed his nose, ears, and eyes to fully process what surrounded him. Through a large window in front of him, he saw a very large tree. It appeared to be a type of oak whose enormous branches were beautifully draped with large clumps of a long, wispy, grey plant. He had never before seen such a thing. He found it strangely beautiful and fascinating. It was, at this moment, his only reminder that he was no longer in Spain. Fernando and Ignacio feasted on wonderfully familiar food. Because it was Friday, no meat was offered. While many of the immigrant Spaniards had abandoned the rigid doctrines of the Catholic church, they still embraced many of its cultural manifestations. A huge basket of freshly baked bread was on each table. An "empanada gallega", the Galician meat pie of tuna and sweet peppers was the appetizer. A green salad was followed by a hearty Basque codfish stew, "bacalao a la vizcaina". "Arroz con leche", an Asturian-style rice pudding, made for a delicious dessert. "Café con leche", Cuban coffee with boiled milk, ended the feast. Ignacio and Fernando agreed that Maruxa had been very ecumenical in her choice of offerings, either purposely or by accident. The menu was a perfect sampling of the most iconic foods of Spain's northwestern Atlantic coast, the "Green Spain" from which so many of her boarders had emigrated. Zapato and Gaitero retreated to the sitting area which was now mostly empty. Most of the diners had returned to work. They relished this opportunity to get reacquainted after nearly four years of separation and minimal communication. They had last seen each other on the docks of Havana when Ignacio boarded the Olivette, Mascotte's "sister ship", for his voyage to Tampa. Ignacio noticed that Fernando's eyes were filllng with tears. "Zapato, parece mentira que marchamos de la tierrina solos, cuando éramos rapacines...nada más catorce años.....pensando que ya éramos hombres! Queríamos evitar a servir el rey. Y sabiendo que probablemente más nunca veríamos a nuestros padres. Si me cierro los ojos veo la fiesta de despedida que nos dieron la noche antes. Nuestras familias escondieron su tristeza. El día que nos fuimos, después de la foto, mi madre me abrazó y me besó. Después ella entró a la casa, negándose a salir de nuevo. Ella no quería verme alejar de la casa por la última vez." Gaitero had very poignantly reminisced to Zapato about their departure from Spain...expressing amazement that they were only young boys of fourteen years of age. They, like so many others, wanted to avoid "serving the king"...a reference to the military draft. He closed his eyes, thinking about the "farewell party" the two families had given for the two boys, while hiding their sadness. The regions of Asturias and Galicia are traditionally culturally and ethnically Celtic, as opposed to Mediterranean. One manifestation of this was the giving of a farewell party to "celebrate" the departure of emigrants, a tradition well known in Ireland. In reality these were, more often than not, sad occasions. In that island nation to the north of Spain they were called "American wakes". On the day of departure, families would pose for a photograph...an extravagance at the time. Traditionally, these were taken outside. Fernando commented how, after his family's photograph was taken, his mother pulled him toward her, embracing him strongly and kissing his face numerous times. She then quickly entered the house, refusing to come out again. She did not want to see her young son walk away for the last time. Ignacio was both moved and surprised by the depth and intensity of Fernando's nostalgia. He would have expected this from someone much older than they. He shared his friend's sentimentalities, but somehow Gaitero's verbalization of them evoked a homesickness he had never before felt. He steered the conversation toward the present. "Pues mira, Gaitero. Tengo muy buena noticia. El encargado de contratar en la fábrica de puros donde trabajo ha accedido hablar contigo el lunes. Quizás puedes trabajar allí. La fábrica se llama Sanchez y Haya, una de las más grande en Tampa. Ya hace tres años que estoy allí, y ahora soy fabricante de puros. Gano un buen salario." Ignacio explained that for the last three years he was working at a cigar factory called Sánchez & Haya, the first and one of the larger ones in Tampa. He had worked his way up to being a cigar maker, and was earning a good salary. The manager in charge of hiring had agreed to meet with Fernando on Monday, and perhaps there was a job for him. "Zapato, tanto lo agradezco! Por supuesto, hablaré con él el lunes." Fernando smiled and expressed his deep gratitude to Ignacio for his effort. He would certainly speak with the manager. Gaitero suddenly realized that he was extremely tired after the overnight boat ride. Even at his young age, the lack of proper sleep had taken its toll. It was now early evening, and he was ready for a good night's sleep. He asked Ignacio to please escort him to their room. Ignacio agreed that it had been a long and busy day for Fernando. "Espera aquí. Voy a encontrar a tu maleta". Zapato graciously told his friend to relax and he would locate his suitcase for him. He remembered that Maruxa had put it on the floor in a corner of the kitchen. Entering the kitchen, he saw Aniceto meticulously cleaning the room after the late afternoon meal. Ignacio explained that their new guest was headed for bed. Aniceto smiled, with an understanding nod. He retrieved the satchel and handed it to Zapato. "Dile que duerma bien. Mañana conoceré el chaval." Aniceto asked Ignacio to wish Fernando a good night's sleep, and that he would meet the young man the next day. Returning to the sitting room with the satchel, Ignacio found his friend sound asleep in his chair. He gently awakened Fernando and nudged him toward the stairway. Their room was on the third floor. When they entered, Gaitero was very impressed to see electric lightbulbs illuminating the room. While Havana certainly had availed itself of this modern invention, it was still largely limited to the homes and businesses of the wealthy. He gestured toward the light bulbs in the ceiling. "Zapato, me siento como un rey! Parece mentira que nosotros podemos disfrutar un lujo como esto." Fernando told Ignacio that he felt like a king...it was hard for him to believe that they were able to enjoy this luxury. Perhaps this was, indeed, "the promised land". Zapato pointed at the bed nearer the window, indicating he had reserved it for Gaitero. The exhausted new arrival, with his clothes still on, practically fell onto the comfortable mattress. As he glanced toward the window, he could see the last vestiges of sunlight quickly disappearing. His first day in the USA was quickly coming to a close. He was soon in a deep slumber. A wonderful combination of soft sunlight and the aroma of brewing coffee awoke Gaitero. Outside his window there was an oak tree like the one outside of the dining room window. It made for a wonderful natural filter, buffering the effects of the rising sun. He was refreshed and ready for a day of exploration. In the bed across the room, Ignacio was still asleep and Fernando was careful not to disturb him. Still fully clothed, he entered the hallway and saw a man carrying an armful of white towels. He was older than Fernando and wore a black beret and wire-rim glasses. He turned toward the young Spaniard. "Buenos días. Soy Aniceto Fernandez, y muy bienvenido! Estoy llevando estas toallas limpias al baño. Venga." Aniceto, his new landlord, had warmly introduced himself and welcomed Fernando. He was replenishing the communal bathroom with fresh towels. He gestured to Gaitero to follow him. After a wash, Fernando dressed and went downstairs. In typical Spanish fashion, breakfast was light....coffee with boiled milk, toasted bread, and some cheese and fruit. As he was finishing his meal, Zapato joined him. Refreshed, Fernando was anxious to learn more about what he might expect on Monday morning at the cigar factory. As his friend and mentor took his last swallow of coffee and rose from his chair, he pointed toward a doorway at the back of the main hall. Gaitero followed closely behind. Beyond the doorway, there was an enclosed outdoor area. Many men were gathered, sitting on long wooden benches in the bright morning sun. It was rather cool, and a large wood-burning fire provided just enough warmth for comfort. Scattered amongst the men were several large stone carving wheels mounted vertically on what appeared to be a type of wooden wheelbarrow. A system of pulleys and a foot pedal provided the power that turned the stone wheel. Fernando immediately recognized them as portable Galician sharpening stones. These caught the attention of Fernando. "Anda! Los afiladores gallegos!" Fernando excitedly confirmed what they were. Since the Middle Ages, Galicians, particularly those from the province of Ourense, were well-known for their blade-sharpening skills. Many sharpeners could be found in the Galician community in Cuba, but Gaitero hadn't expected to find something so iconically northern Spanish in Tampa. As more men came out to enjoy the sun, several took their positions at the stone wheels. Maruxa appeared with many of her best knives from the kitchen. Placing them on a bench near the wheels, she collectively thanked the sharpeners with her usual smile. As the Galicians began pedaling, a calming whirring sound could be heard. Each man reached for a knife and deftly sharpened it, sparks flying about. Within minutes, each knife had been perfectly sharpened. As conversation among the gathered men continued, some, including Ignacio, began reaching into small boxes or leather pouches. Fernando noticed that they were retrieving curious-looking knives. They were not large. Some had wooden handles designed for grasping with one hand. Others were merely pieces of metal with a sharp edge. These knives were curved, almost like a wide crescent moon. They began handing these to the Galician sharpeners, and the whirring and the sparks continued. Fernando remained curious about these strange-looking knives. Ignacio handed his two curved knives to one of the sharpeners. Fernando noticed that they were very impressive looking, with beautiful hardwood handles. Ignacio turned toward his old friend. "Estas se llaman 'chavetas'. Son las herramientas más importantes para nosotros que hacemos puros a mano. Se usa para cortar las hojas de tabaco en una manera muy precisa. Tienes que siempre mantenerlas muy bien afiladas, y nadie puede hacerlo mejor que los gallegos." Zapato explained to Gaitero that these cutting tools were called "chavetas". They were used by the cigar rollers to cut the tobacco leaves in a very precise manner. It was crucial that they always be well-sharpened, and no one could do this better than the Galicians. As Ignacio retrieved his two chavetas, he placed some coins in a wooden cigar box attached to the wheelbarrow of his sharpener. The Galician smiled and tipped his black beret in appreciation. He then explained to Fernando that these men made a decent living utilizing their skills in Tampa. In addition to keeping the chavetas in proper form, they would wander the streets of Ybor City and West Tampa offering their services to households and restaurants. Each man had a type of whistle that they would blow, making their presence known. Curiously, they were also known to repair umbrellas....an unusual combination. Ignacio elaborated further. "También sirven como un periódico porque saben todo lo que está pasando en el barrio. Mientras sus clientes esperan, los afiladores les dan todos los chismes y noticias. 'Fulano se casa con tal fulanita'...'El hijo de Casimira regresa a españa'....'La pescaría siciliana en La Séptima tiene pargo a la venta hoy'"....etc. Most interestingly, Ignacio went on to explain that the sharpeners also served as a type of newspaper or town crier...informing everyone as to the local news and gossip. Who's marrying whom, who is returning to Spain, what's on sale at the Sicilian fish market, etc. Fernando was intrigued by this. He had seen the sharpeners on the streets in Havana, but didn't realize the unique role they played in the community. "Zapato, explícame más cómo encuentras tu trabajo, como son las fábricas de puros? Que clase de trabajo puedo conseguir en ellas?" Fernando had asked Ignacio to explain more about working in a cigar factory. What is it like? What kind of work might he find in them? Though he had lived in Cuba for four years, he knew little about the subject since he had been a stevedore. Ignacio reminded him that Tampa was emerging as a world center of cigar manufacturing. The political stability and low import duties on Cuban tobacco had served the manufacturers well. The city, eager to lure new industry, had promised the factory owners protection from labor strife. Factories were relocating from other cities at a rapid rate...from New York, Philadelphia, Cleveland, Atlanta, and others. The future looked promising for an ambitious young man who was interested in learning the business. Zapato went on to elaborate on what could be expected. There were many different jobs in the factories. These included menial labor such as unloading bales of tobacco, the shipping of completed boxes of cigars, etc. "Strippers" removed stems from the leaves. "Banders" would place the signature foil bands on completed cigars, and "sorters" would place cigars in boxes to maximize the visual appeal. This means clustering by similar size and color. The most valued jobs, after supervisors and foremen, were the "selectors". After the tobacco leaves were stripped, they would sort them by quality. Ignacio proudly told Fernando that he had worked his way up to being a master cigar roller....a valued and well-paid position in the factory. The highest quality tobacco leaves were reserved for him and his fellow master rollers. Fernando was learning that the cigar industry was not unlike the wine or jewelry business. It produces desirable products of variable quality and had a following of aficionados. It seems to be a subculture onto itself. "Gaitero, voy a mi trabajo cada día vestido con camisa blanca, con mangas largas, y una corbata. Lo que hago es una arte...y me gusta muchísimo. Tengo mucho orgullo en lo que he logrado. Tengo una vida muy buena aquí en Tampa. Te deseo lo mismo, hermano." Ignacio told Fernando that he went to work every day dressed in a white, long-sleeved shirt, with a tie. His work was considered an art, and he was very proud of what he had accomplished. He lived well in Tampa and wished the same for his best friend. Fernando had a new appreciation for the industry that was drawing so many immigrants to Tampa and propelling its incredible growth. He found himself anxious for Monday to arrive. "Zapato, me puedes enseñar ahora mismo cómo hacer un buen puro de mano?" Gaitero had asked Ignacio if he could show him right now how to roll a fine cigar. The response was a look of surprise, with a broad smile. "Paciencia, mi amigo..paciencia." "Patience, my friend...patience" was Ignacio's reply. Fernando and Ignacio spent the rest of the weekend relaxing and getting Fernando oriented to his new home. Zapato was the anxious tour guide. On Sunday they took the short streetcar ride to "downtown Tampa". Fernando remained fascinated by the Tampa Bay Hotel and envied the wealthy tourists and winter residents that paraded around the hotel grounds in the latest fashions. Ignacio explained that even though downtown Tampa was only a few miles from Ybor City, the cultural differences were vast. Ybor City was part of the City of Tampa, but everyone in Tampa referred to them as if they were separate towns, and in essence they were. On the return from downtown, they got off the trolley at the corner of 14th St and 7th Ave. On the south side of La Séptima, taking up the whole block up to 15th St, was a large wooden building. As they approached it, Ignacio stopped and pointed to it. "Mira, Gaitero. Aquí es done trabajo, y con buena suerte, trabajarás allí también. Esta es la fábrica de puros de Sanchez y Haya." Ignacio told Fernando that this was the Sánchez and Haya cigar factory where he worked, and with good luck, he will work there as well. Fernando was impressed by how large the factory was. Ignacio went on to explain that all the factories had very large rectangular windows and were oriented on an east-west axis. This design maximized the amount of light entering, while preventing the rising or setting sun from blinding the workers as they rolled cigars all day. Seeing the factory made Fernando all the more anxious and curious about his interview the next morning. Zapato gestured to his friend to follow him as he crossed the street. "Te invito a tomar una merienda en mi café y pastelería favorito." Ignacio had invited Fernando to join him in a snack at his favorite café and pastry shop. As they entered the pastry shop, Fernando noticed the name, "LAS NOVEDADES", prominently painted on the store front display windows. The display cases were full of traditional Spanish and Cuban pastries. In Spain, such delicacies were appropriately referred to as "novedades", or "novelties" in English. Hence, the name of this most interesting café. He also noticed that a variety of sandwiches were offered as well. When they entered the cafe, Gaitero felt he had been transported back to Spain. It was full of people, and the aroma of sweets, strong coffee, and fine cigars filled the air. They took their seats and a waiter hurried over. "Hola, Zapato. Que tal?" "Muy bien, Pepe. Y tu?" Pepe, the waiter, greeted Ignacio warmly. It was obvious that he was known here, as Pepe used his nickname. Ignacio had returned the greeting. "Por favor, empezamos con dos Cubanos mixtos y dos cafés con leche, después dos cremas catalanas." Pepe acknowledged Ignacio's order with a nod and a smile and scurried away to fill the order. Fernando understood that he had ordered two coffees with milk and two Spanish versions of creme brûlée. But the third item, "mixed Cubans" was baffling to him. He asked Ignacio to explain. "Zapato, que son Cubanos mixtos?" "Gaitero, sabes lo que es un sándwich? Parecido a que llamábamos en Asturias 'emparedados'?" Ignacio had asked if Fernando knew what a sandwich is, referring to the term they had used at home for a similar version, before the English invention became well-known in many other countries. Fernando said he did, because they had become increasingly popular in Cuba since the American occupation after the Spanish war. "Bueno, son sándwiches hechos con el pan Cubano, jamón, puerco asado, un salchichón Italiano seco, queso suizo, rebanadas de pepinillo, y mostaza o mantequilla. Después lo meten en un horno hasta que se calienten un poco. Son deliciosos y son muy populares aquí en Tampa." The most generous "tour guide" elaborated that a Cuban mix was a sandwich with baked ham, roasted Cuban-style pork, Italian salami, Swiss cheese, sliced pickles and mustard or butter. He considered them delicious, and they had become very popular in Tampa. Just as Ignacio was concluding his explanation, the coffee and sandwiches arrived. Taking his first bite, Gaitero instantly agreed with Zapato...it was a delicious sandwich. Little did Fernando know that he had just experienced what would essentially become a rite of passage before anyone could call themselves a true "Tampeño". The sounds of doors opening and closing, along with voices in the hallway, served as an excellent alarm clock. It was Monday morning, and the boarding house was as busy as a beehive. Fernando noticed that Ignacio was already dressed...looking quite dapper in his starched white shirt and tie. Ignacio turned to Fernando. "Buenos días. Un consejo importante. Apúrate al baño, que ya hay cola!" He had advised Gaitero to hurry up and get to the bathroom, as there was already a line of men waiting their turn. Fernando was soon washed and dressed. After a quick breakfast, the two men began their brisk walk to the Sánchez y Haya cigar factory. Fernando could feel his heart racing a bit. He wanted to make a good impression. Ignacio detected his nervousness and stopped walking. He put his arm on Fernando's shoulder. "Gaitero, por favor. No te preocupes de nada. Seguro que todo saldrá bien." Ignacio had told Fernando that he shouldn't worry so much. He was sure that everything would work out well. Gaitero was reassured, and a sense of relief came over him. They had arrived at the Sánchez y Haya factory. Fernando was amazed at the number of workers that were filing into the factory. As they entered the large door, he saw lines of workers waiting to insert their payroll cards into a large time clock. He had never seen this before and was impressed. Further down the hallway, Ignacio gestured to the left and they entered a rather large office. Ignacio addressed a woman sitting at a large wooden desk. "Buenos días, Adela. Puedo hablar con Señor Castañeda?" He had asked if he could speak with Mr. Castañeda. "Hola Ignacio, como estás? Como no, un momentito, por favor." Adela had answered that he could, and to wait moment . Adela quickly returned, followed by a tall, husky man with a thick moustache. The woman returned to her desk. The man smiled and nodded in recognition toward Ignacio. "Bienvenido. Soy Fausto Castañeda, el gerente de contratación y personal. Y como te llamas?" The gentleman had introduced himself to Fernando as Fausto Castañeda, the manager of hiring and personnel. He was the one to whom Ignacio had spoken about Fernando. Gaitero noticed that Mr. Castañeda, like Maruxa and Aniceto, had introduced himself using only one surname. Spanish people normally used two surnames...their father's, followed by their mother's. He found this odd but refocused his attention on the present. Ignacio exchanged greetings and then politely excused himself to begin his workday. Mr. Castañeda explained that he wanted to give Fernando a quick tour of the factory, then sit and talk with him. They exchanged personal information. Fausto explained that he was from Cantabria, Spain, the area that borders Asturias to the east, and is similar in geography and culture. Fernando immediately felt at ease and found the manager to be very friendly and engaging. They were still on the main floor, and it consisted of the administrative offices and the shipping and receiving departments. This floor was where the tobacco bales were unloaded as they arrived from Cuba. Cigar boxes from the nearby box factories were also received here. Finally, the finished product, boxes of cigars, were sent out to be loaded onto railroad cars destined for points across the globe. At the back of the main floor were large loading docks, partially protruding beyond the facade of the building itself. Behind these were several elevators powered by a system of weights and pulleys. These were used primarily for moving freight, as opposed to people, from floor to floor. Permeating the area was the strong aroma of tobacco. Fernando could see men unloading huge bales of tobacco off an enormous horse-drawn wagon. Fausto explained that these had arrived early this morning from Havana, having been shipped there from farms in Pinar Del Río, the westernmost part of Cuba. This area was known for growing the best tobacco in the world. Fernando and Fausto descended a large wooden staircase into the sub-basement level. There, the young Spaniard could see men scurrying about, cutting open the bales and placing the loose leaves in separate bins. They were taken on huge hand trucks to the "stripping" area. Women grabbed handfuls of leaves and peeled off the stems, placing them in yet another bin. These were transported to an adjacent area where well-dressed, serious-looking gentlemen would sort through them, randomly taking some out. The samples were hung on a wire for close inspection. These were the selectors, verifying the presumed quality of the latest purchase of tobacco. Though called "escogedores" or "selectors", their job was really quality control. Certain areas and specific farms in Cuba grew tobacco of varying quality, and this was reflected in the wholesale price of the raw tobacco. Fernando was fascinated by the constant, organized frenzy of activity around him. It was like a well-choreographed fast dance that seemed to flow effortlessly. Fausto gently grabbed Gaitero's arm and guided him toward another staircase. They ascended two levels and entered a cavernous well-lit room running the entire length of the building. The large multi-paned windows Fernando had noticed yesterday dominated the space. His senses were pleasantly overwhelmed by that familiar aroma of tobacco, a thunderous voice that could be heard across the room, and a strange, rhythmic "clickety-clack", not unlike a train traveling across tracks. As Fausto motioned to Fernando to continue walking into this vast open space, the young Asturian began to dissect the various sounds and sights. The clickety-clack was the cutting of the tobacco leaves with the chavetas…those curious knives. The aroma of tobacco was blended with that of coffee being distributed to the workers by an older man wheeling large urns of the popular beverage, some with black coffee, others coffee with milk, through each row of work benches. The workers would drop a few coins in a box next to the coffee urn. Another man, apparently a supervisor, wandered through the rows of workers. Occasionally he would take a sample from the workers' stacks of completed cigars. Any cigar not meeting his tough standards would be rejected. Fausto explained the rollers were paid a certain amount for each completed cigar, in addition to a small base wage. Across the room Fernando noticed a wooden platform, elevated slightly higher than the workers. On this platform was a tall, wooden chair, upon which sat a gentleman whose voice permeated the entire space. As they drew closer, the voice was vaguely familiar to Fernando. He turned to Fausto. "Señor Castañeda, que hace ese caballero?" He asked Fausto what the gentleman was doing. "Él es el lector de la fábrica. Mientras los trabadores trabajan, él lee todo el día. Así no se aburran tanto de hacer la misma cosa por nueve horas. Hemos notado que la producción sube con los lectores...parece que hay un ritmo calmante entre la voz del lector y el proceso de hacer los puros a mano." Fausto explained that this man was the factory "reader". He would read to the workers while they worked so that they wouldn't get bored with the monotony of doing the same thing for nine hours a day. Production actually rose when the readers became common in the factories. It appears that there is a calming rhythm that develops between the reader's voice and the cigar rolling process. While living in Havana, Fernando had heard of the readers from some friends who were cigar makers but hadn't realized the extent to which they formed an integral part of the factory culture. Fausto went on to explain that these men were usually educated and fluent in several languages. Fernando learned that usually they would read several newspapers in the morning...some from Spain and Cuba, and in some factories an Italian one as well. Though the editions from Europe were usually a month or so old, the workers none the less appreciated any news from "home". In the afternoons, the readings would usually be novels or poetry drawn from the classics, authors such as Victor Hugo, Charles Dickens, etc. As the two men got closer to the reader, the voice became even more familiar. Fernando realized that the lector was the translator who had been so helpful to him when he arrived at Port Tampa. "Señor Castañeda, yo conozco a este señor. Es el traductor que me ayudó tanto cuando llegué al puerto el viernes! Que casualidad. Él se llama Armando Nogueira Yglesias, verdad?" Fernando explained to Fausto that he recognized this gentleman as the helpful translator at the port, and thought his name was Armando Nogueira Yglesias. The manager confirmed that he was and commented that Armando was one of the best and most popular readers in Tampa. Since most were multi-lingual, they also worked as translators. Having him at Sánchez and Haya was good for the factory as well as the workers. The rapid growth of the cigar industry in Tampa meant that there was competition amongst the factories to attract the best rollers, and many chose to work where the best readers were. Fausto explained that it was the workers themselves, and not the factories, who chose and paid the readers. Fernando was quite fascinated by all this. Fausto told Fernando that the third level above them was the banding and packing areas. There, the "banders" would place the decorative foil bands on the cigars, and the "sorters" would place them in boxes, organizing by similar size and color. Because he was running a bit short on time, Mr Castañeda suggested that they should now go to his office and have a quiet talk. They took the rear staircase down to the main level. As they entered the office, Mr. Castañeda gestured to Fernando to take a seat. He began by telling the young man that he could call him Fausto. This made Fernando relax even more. The manager went on to explain that there was an opening in the shipping and receiving department and felt that Fernando would do well there. He further explained that after a time, if his performance and attendance were good, they would consider assigning him to a master cigar roller as an apprentice, assuming he had an interest. Fernando told Fausto that this sounded very good to him. "Voy a llamar a Julio, el capataz del departamento. Le había hablado de tí, y él quiere conocerte." Fausto explained that he was calling Julio, the foreman of the department. He had already spoken to him about Fernando, and Julio was interested in meeting him. Fernando was quite pleased with how things were developing for him. He felt confident that his decision to come to Tampa was a good one. After a brief phone conversation with Julio, Fausto asked Fernando if he remembered how to get to the shipping and receiving department. He replied that he did...he'd always had a good sense of direction. Fausto thanked him for his time and wished him the best of luck. When Fernando arrived at the loading docks, there was a frenzy of activity. Several large horse-drawn wagons waited their turn to access one of the three loading bays...some were delivering, and others were removing goods. He approached several men busily unloading a wagon. "Por favor, estoy buscando a Julio, el capataz. Me mandó Fausto Castañeda." Fernando told them that he was looking for Julio, the foreman, and that Fausto had sent him. One of the three men, without glancing up, brusquely pointed toward a large podium against the far wall. Normally, Fernando might have interpreted his manner as rude or dismissive, but he had become accustomed to such behavior while a stevedore on the docks of Havana. It wasn't personal. Fernando walked to the podium. It was large, and papers covered most of the surface. No one was there. A telephone on the wall began ringing. After about a full minute, a man came racing over and answered the phone. The man was rather tall and thin, but muscular in build, probably in his thirties. He was of olive complexion and had black curly hair with some Oriental features. He reminded Fernando of several former co-workers in Cuba. "Sí, Sí. Como no..por supuesto! Lo más rápido que pueda. De nada. Gracias." The man answering the telephone had responded with "Yes. Yes. Of course! You're welcome. Thank you." Obviously, it was a request from a superior. From the man's accent, Gaitero knew that he was Cuban. The frenzy was interrupted when the man seemed to pause, take a deep breath, and turned to Fernando, offering his right hand in a greeting. Fernando extended his as well. "Eres Fernando Suárez? Me llamó Fausto. Soy Julio Ramirez. Vamos a un sitio más tranquilo." The foreman had introduced himself as Julio Ramirez and verified that the young man was the Fernando Suarez about whom Fausto had called. He suggested they go to a quieter place. Julio gestured for Gaitero to follow him into a make-shift, glass-enclosed office a short distance away. The din quickly diminished as Julio closed the door behind them. He then took a seat behind a small desk and pointed at a chair in front of the desk. Fernando sat down. Julio began going over a few scribbled notes. After a few minutes, he looked up at Fernando. "Puedes empezar a trabajar mañana? Se nota que necesitamos más empleados, verdad? Para empezar es nada más que descargar y cargar de las carretas. Ofrecemos once kilos a la hora, para empezar. Tu turno empieza a las siete y media de la mañana, y termina a las cinco. Trabajamos desde el lunes al viernes. De vez en cuando te pedimos a trabajar medio día los sábados, obligatorio si estamos muy ocupados. Tienes media hora libre para comer, sin pagarte. Estás interesado?" Fernando was surprised that Julio had offered him the job on the spot. Noting that it was evident that more employees were needed, he asked if he could start the next morning! They were offering eleven cents per hour. His shift was Monday through Friday, from 7:30 AM to 5:00 PM. Occasionally he would be asked to work half a day on Saturdays, mandatory if they were busy. He would have a 30-minute unpaid lunch break. Fernando always had a knack with numbers and quickly calculated that he would earn close to five dollars per week, a bit more when he worked on Saturdays. He accepted the offer. Julio stood and extended his hand in welcoming Fernando to Sánchez and Haya, telling him to stop by the main office before leaving. There were papers he had to fill out. The rapidity with which all this had just occurred left Gaitero almost in disbelief. While it wasn't true that the streets in the US were paved with gold, he concluded that perhaps they were certainly paved with many good opportunities. He was filled with gratitude that Ignacio had persisted in urging him to come to Tampa. His timing was perfect....Tampa was indeed a "boom town"! As instructed, Fernando stopped by Fausto's office. When he entered, Adela was attending to a young woman, but gestured to him to take a seat in the waiting area. A few minutes later, the young lady stood, thanked Adela, and gathered her belongings. He noticed that she was strikingly beautiful and spoke mediocre Spanish with a distinct accent. As she walked by him, she gave Gaitero a faint smile. Adela's voice refocused his attention somewhat. "Muy bien, Señor Suárez. Felicidades, y bien venido a Sánchez y Haya." Adela had warmly congratulated him and welcomed him to Sánchez and Haya. He thanked her and smiled in return, but his thoughts remained with the beautiful young lady as she left the office. Adela assisted Fernando in filling out the necessary employment forms. Literacy was not the norm amongst most of the workers, and Adela complimented him on his writing and reading skills. Gaitero's thoughts drifted back in time about ten years to Wednesday afternoons at the small chapel outside of his village in Asturias. There was one priest who valued education even more than religious doctrine. This cleric would offer the children a basic education, in addition to preaching Catholic dogma. Because of this, Fernando was able to read, write, and perform basic arithmetic functions. He would remain forever grateful to this visionary. After a few minutes, Adela stood up and thanked Fernando for his time. She reminded him that he would start working tomorrow morning at seven thirty. He thanked her and asked if she could recommend a place nearby that sold work clothes. "Pues sí. Hay una tienda cerquita donde venden cosas así. Se llama 'El Sombrero Blanco'. Todo el mundo va allí para comprar ropa de varias calidades. El dueño es judío, pero habla español perfectamente. Queda en la esquina de La Séptima con la Calle Veinte" Adela told Fernando that there was a clothing store nearby, on the corner of 7th Ave and 20th St. It was a popular place that offered clothing of various quality. Though the owner was Jewish, he spoke Spanish perfectly. The store was called "The White Hat". This was a relief to Fernando, since the work clothes he brought from Havana were few and not appropriate for his new job. Here he would be working only partially outdoor and the weather was much cooler. He looked forward to some new clothes and a new start. When Fernando arrived at the store, there were several men sitting on a bench just beside the entrance. They were middle-aged or older, dressed in black, and had full, bushy beards. As he walked by them, he could hear them speaking a language that was unfamiliar to him. It sounded remotely like German, which he had frequently heard on the docks of Havana. Many of the ships that served Havana, both passenger and freight, were German. He was fairly sure that they were not speaking German, but perhaps a language quite similar to it. When he walked into the store, he noticed that there very few customers. He assumed this was because today was a Monday. The store was quite large, and was stocked with not only clothing, but also housewares and tools, but seemed to be primarily a clothing store. He noticed a display of work clothing toward the back wall. As he began walking toward it, a loud voice interrupted the silence. He noticed an older man walking rapidly toward him. "Buenos días, señor. Que necesitas hoy, por favor? Aquí tenemos de todo." A gentleman had greeted him and asked what he needed today, advising him that they had anything he might want. He spoke Spanish extremely well, albeit with a distinct foreign accent. Fernando explained his needs. Within 10 minutes he had what he needed....proper pants, shirts and shoes. He followed the gentleman to the cash register. As Fernando prepared to pay, the older gentleman looked up through wire-rimmed spectacles. He extended his hand toward the young Spaniard. "No te reconozco. Hace poco que llegaste a Tampa? Me llamo Isidor Katz, y soy el dueño de esta tienda. Gracias por comprar aquí." The older gentleman had introduced himself as Isidor Katz, the proprietor of the store. He told Fernando that he didn't recognize him and asked if he had recently arrived in Tampa. He thanked him for patronizing his store. As they shook hands Fernando explained that he was a recent arrival and had just secured a job at Sánchez and Haya. To his surprise, Mr. Katz responded with a broad smile, and proceeded to discount the amount of his purchase by ten percent. Before he could respond, Isidor told him that this policy had served him well. He had many loyal customers and wanted to share his success with others. He always offered potential steady customers an initial discount. "Muchísimas gracias, Señor Katz. Cuantos años lleva en Tampa, y de donde eres?" Fernando had thanked Mr. Katz. Always curious, he also asked him how long he had been in Tampa and wanted to know where he was from. He answered that he was originally from Romania. He had first come to the United States in 1875. After a brief stay in New York he went to Key West, drawn by the warm weather and the opportunities offered by the cigar industry there. He had arrived in Tampa in 1891, following the cigar industry. Fernando gave him a brief summary of how he ended up in Tampa as well. "Hombre, el futuro de la industria de puros está aquí mismo en Tampa. Tomaste una buena decisión!" Mr.Katz reassured Fernando that his decision to come to Tampa was a good one, because the future of the cigar industry was here. Gaitero could see no reason to disagree. He thanked Mr. Katz for his good service, gathered his purchases, and headed back toward La Gallega. Ignacio helped Fernando find his timecard and showed him how to operate the punch clock. It was Gaitero's first day at Sánchez and Haya. The two men parted ways as Ignacio walked toward the front stairway. Fernando continued to the rear of the building and exited onto the loading docks. The air was refreshingly cool, and he anticipated that he would find his work here to be less strenuous that unloading ships in the almost constant heat of Havana. Julio was at his desk shuffling through papers. As Fernando approached, he looked up and smiled. "Buenos días, Gallego. Estás listo? Esta semana vas a trabajar ayudando a Tomás. Así vas aprendiendo como hacemos las cosas por aquí. Está bien?" Julio, addressing Fernando as "the Galician", had told him that he would spend the week helping Tomás. By "shadowing" him he would learn how things are done. The custom in Cuba was to refer to all Spaniards as Galicians, without regard to their actual place of origin, and apparently this tradition carried over to Tampa. Fernando's accent and physical features clearly revealed him to be a Spaniard. Rather tall, with blonde hair and blue eyes, Gaitero possessed what some considered to be the stereotypical features of someone from northern Spain. Julio called out for Tomás. He then turned and drew a bit closer to Fernando. "Mira, Gallego. Tomás es inteligente, un buen trabajador, y buena persona, pero un hombre de muy pocas palabras. Cuando él está explicando algo, usa el mínimo de palabras posible." Julio explained that Tomás is a good worker, smart, and a good person, but is a man of very few words. When he explains something, he uses the absolute minimum number of words. Before Fernando could respond, he became aware that a man was standing immediately to his left. The man was very dark-skinned, rather short and stocky, but powerfully built. As he and Julio spoke, Gaitero surmised that Tomas was an Afro-Cuban. Julio introduced the two gentlemen. As Julio departed, Tomas explained that every morning Julio looks at the papers in his desk and gives Tomás a quick summary of the expected deliveries to, and shipments from, the factory. He then repeats the process after lunch for the afternoon's activities. Apparently, Tomás was known to have a steel-trap memory. This more than compensated for his apparent illiteracy. By now, several large wagons were arriving at the docks. With minimal, but very clear, explanations, Tomás guided Fernando through the process. Cigar boxes, cigar bands, and bales of tobacco would be unloaded and appropriately distributed to the corresponding departments. On occasion, Tomás would instruct Fernando to accompany other workers as they pushed hand trucks onto elevators. He was impressed with Gaitero's strength as he helped unload heavy bales of tobacco. Fernando sensed that Tomás had a favorable first impression of his work ethic. The morning passed quickly, and soon it was 12:30 noon and time for the lunch break. Workers were expected to self-monitor their allotted thirty minutes of un-paid mealtime. Depending on the weather, most of the employees would gravitate to the partially outdoor loading docks to enjoy their lunch. Long wooden benches had been provided to accommodate them. Soon the area was filled with workers, including Ignacio. Fernando noticed that Tomás had quietly slipped away to a quiet corner, away from everyone else. He was clearly a "loner", and Fernando was not offended. "Bueno, Gaitero! Y qué, como fue tu primera mañana?" Zapato was asking Fernando how his first morning had gone. As Fernando began explaining that all had gone very well, his attention shifted to a group of young women seated nearby. He could hear that they were speaking Sicilian. He recognized one as the beautiful young lady he had seen speaking to Adela the previous day. He nudged Ignacio as he discretely pointed her out to him. "Zapato. Esa es la chica de que te dije anoche. Sabes como se llama ella?" Fernando told Ignacio that she was the girl he had spoken to him about last night. He asked if he knew her name. Zapato replied that he did not, but he knew that she worked as a cigar sorter and packer. He knew several Spanish girls who worked in the same department and he would ask them about her. Igancio cautioned him that Sicilian fathers were extremely strict with their daughters, and that he would need to proceed cautiously with any romantic overtures. Fernando jokingly told Zapato that he did not intend to kidnap her, but rather just get to know her. "Igual, Gaitero! Ten cuidado, que estás jugando con candela!" Ignacio smiled and advised Fernando that, none the less, he should be careful...and that he is playing with fire! Fernando returned the smile. The lunch break was at an end and the workers began to hurriedly return to their workstations. While the foremen were not draconian about it, they were known to admonish those who habitually violated the thirty-minute limit on lunch breaks. As Ignacio scurried away, he told Fernando that he would do a little "research" on his behalf. Fernando acknowledged what he meant with yet another broad smile. The rest of Fernando's first week at work went as well, or better, than his first day. Tomás had acknowledged his satisfaction with Gaitero's abilities. He was particularly impressed that the young Spaniard was literate and could read the orders that were placed on Julio's desk. This allowed them to work at a faster pace, not having to wait for Julio's verbal instructions. Fernando, a humble man by nature, was careful not to flaunt this skill for which he was so grateful. His innate sense of fairness made him hope that Tomás was in no way threatened by this young newcomer. Tomås approached Fernando. "Gaitero, mira. Ya son las cinco menos cuarto, el viernes. Puedes prepararte para terminar la semana. A las cinco menos cinco, nos dan los sobres con el sueldo para la semana. Ahora puedes celebrar como un rico!" Tomás had told Fernando that it was 4:45 pm, Friday, and OK for him to start preparing to end his first week of work. At five minutes before five, they are given their pay envelopes with their weekly salaries and then he can celebrate like a rich man! Adela appeared on the loading docks, pushing a cart filled with boxes of small envelopes. She handed one box to Julio and continued on to the other areas of the factory. Julio began distributing the envelopes, each labeled with an employee's name. Just as Fernando began to open his, Julio turned toward him. "Fernando, siempre debes verificar la cantidad. Algunas veces se equivocan en la oficina!" Julio had advised Fernando to always verify the amount he was paid since sometimes they make errors in the office. Fernando followed this advice and counted the money. After counting twice, he approached Julio and told him there was an error. They had paid him for five days, but he had worked only four days, having started on Tuesday. "Hombre, no es un error. Me quedé tan impresionado con tu trabajo que hablé con el señor Castañeda para pedir que te pagaran para la semana entera. Él mismo hablo con el señor Haya y él dijo que sí, sería posible." To Fernando's amazement, Julío had advised that there was no error. The foreman was so impressed with Fernando's abilities that he had asked Mr. Castañeda if it were possible to pay him for the entire week. With Mr. Haya's approval, they did. Fernando thanked Julio profusely, although he felt a bit awkward. Julio assured him that it was well-deserved, but to be discrete about it. He shouldn't tell anyone else about it, not even Ignacio. Fernando agreed. Fernando waited for Ignacio at the main entrance, a routine already established. Ignacio soon joined him, and they began their walk home. "Mira, Gaitero. Hoy es el viernes, y la cena es más tarde. Entonces, vamos a merendar en Las Novedades, está bien?" Ignacio reminded Fernando that on Friday's Maruxa prepares dinner a bit later than on the other days. He suggested they go to Las Novedades for a snack. Fernando agreed, but only if he could pick up the bill. They could celebrate the end of Fernando's first work week. Ignacio agreed. As soon as Pepe had placed their orders on the table, Fernando turned to Ignacio. As he had been doing all week, he asked what he had learned about the beautiful young woman that worked in the sorting department. Ignacio had been rather evasive on the subject. Ignacio's eyes turned away from Fernando. Gaitero knew him well enough to know that this was his way of trying to buy more time. Clearly, Zapato was not comfortable with what he was about to tell his best friend. "Por dios, Zapato! Dime lo que sabes....es lo que es, y ya! Estás casada o que?" Fernando, growing a bit exasperated, asked Ignacio to "spit it out" and just tell him what he knows. He said whatever it is, it is! He wondered if she was married. If so, that would be the end of it. Gaitero got Pepe's attention and ordered two brandies, as if to prepare for a drama. Ignacio told him the woman's name is Giuseppina Licata. She is 19 years old and single. She was born in Sicily and immigrated to Tampa ten years prior, after a brief period in New Orleans. According to Ignacio's sources, her father had done well financially, having turned a small vegetable farm into a thriving wholesale produce business. She was said to be very friendly and charming, but demure and soft-spoken. Apparently, she rarely discussed her family with the other women, or anyone else. One of Ignacio's lady friends went on to say that apparently her father is extremely strict, and she is not allowed to date. Her social contacts are rigidly controlled by her mother and other female relatives and are limited to close family friends and extended relatives. "Si su padre tiene mucho dinero, por qué trabaja en la fábrica?" Gaitero had asked the obvious question. If Giuseppina's father was wealthy, why is she working at the cigar factory, in a relatively low-wage position? Ignacio said that apparently there was a shroud of mystery surrounding the Licata family. His sources told him that whenever anyone would ask Giuseppina or her Sicilian co-workers and friends anything about her, they would be met with an awkward silence and a quick change of subject. Fernando grew even more intrigued with the beautiful and mysterious Giuseppina Licata. Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Click Here For Part Two

The Ybor City Museum Society is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization established in 1982. The society is a citizen support organization for the Ybor City Museum State Park and is committed in preserving, promoting and celebrating the unique cultural heritage of Ybor City through programs and exhibits. 2023 Newsletters January 09, 2023 Read More April 2023 Read More August 2023 Read More February 21, 2023 Read More June 2023 Read More October 2023 Read More March 20, 2023 Read More June 2023 2 Read More News recipes news library

The Ybor City Museum Society is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization established in 1982. The society is a citizen support organization for the Ybor City Museum State Park and is committed in preserving, promoting and celebrating the unique cultural heritage of Ybor City through programs and exhibits. Books & Historical Works about Ybor City's History Images of America: Ybor City , by A.M. de Quesada (1999) Pacheco's Art of the Cubans in Exile , by Ferdie Pacheco, M.D. (2000) Southern Discomfort: Women's Activism in Tampa, Florida, 1880s-1920s , by Nancy A. Hewitt (2003) Tampa Bay: Cradle of Cuban Liberty, Book Three of the Cigar City Trilogy , by Loy Glenn Westfall (2000) The Columbia Restaurant: Celebrating a Century of History, Culture, and Cuisine , by Andrew T. Huse (2009) The Columbia Restaurant Spanish Cookbook , by Adela Hernandez Gonzmart and Ferdie Pacheco (1995) The Immigrant World of Ybor City: Italians and Their Latin Neighbors in Tampa, 1885-1985 , by Gary R. Mormino and George E. Pozzetta (1998) Ybor City: Crucible of the Latina South , by Dr. Sarah McNamara (2023) Ybor City: Its Story in Pictures, Phil Sauerbrun (2024) Ybor City, National Historic Landmark District, Pocket Guide , 2022, by Phil Sauerbrun Ybor City: The Making of a Landmark Town , Frank Trebín Lastra Historic Preservation resources Heritage & Educational resources our community collaborations Education Material