By Sue Anne Pressley. Washington Post Staff Writer. Sunday, April 30, 2000; Page A13
MIAMI, April 29 –– Thousands of Cuban American protesters took to the streets of this divided city today to express deep sadness over the fate of 6-year-old Elian Gonzalez and their bitter disappointment with a U.S. government they feel betrayed them.
Like mourners, many were dressed all in black, carrying many more Cuban flags than U.S. flags, as they solemnly walked Calle Ocho, the street that forms the heart of the Little Havana neighborhood. There were families, elderly people in wheelchairs, and children with ice cream in one hand and a
poster of Elian in the other.
The scene--and the tone of the event--were markedly different from last Saturday, when, just hours after the predawn federal raid that returned the boy to his Cuban father, the same streets erupted in chaos. Unruly protesters threw rocks and chunks of concrete, set more than 200 trash fires, and
struggled with city police officers who met them with batons and tear gas. More than 350 people were arrested, and allegations of police brutality were rampant.
Today's more sedate demonstration, organized by a coalition of about two dozen Cuban exile groups, was intended to send a clear message to Washington that what happened that morning will not be forgotten--or forgiven.
"We want to demonstrate our unity behind two concepts," said Ramon Saul Sanchez, leader of the exile group Democracy Movement. "That the [Immigration and Naturalization Service] should not be a totalitarian agency within a democratic government, and that children should also have
rights and should also be heard.
"I think people are very sad," said Sanchez, who had led the round-the-clock vigils outside the Little Havana home of Elian's great-uncle Lazaro Gonzalez, where Elian had lived after his rescue from a shipwreck five months ago. "They don't know about the child anymore, they can't
see his smiling little face."
It had been a tumultuous week for Miami in general, and particularly for the 800,000-strong Cuban American community. In three minutes flat last Saturday morning, armed federal agents stormed past a small band of protesters into the Gonzalez home and whisked the boy into a waiting van. Later
that day he was reunited with his father in Washington. For many who had pinned their hopes for a free Cuba on the small child, the news was devastating.
"He was the Cuban people's son," said Gilberto Morciego, 60--a retired pest-control technician who left Cuba in 1970--thumping his heart to show his emotion today. "We don't care if we have to fight the whole world for Elian and freedom for Cuba. They do not understand how we
feel."
The fallout from the raid continued to be felt throughout the week as Miami's Cuban American mayor, Joe Carollo, fired the city manager Thursday night, and the police chief resigned on Friday, over accusations that police had failed to notify the mayor about the upcoming raid and had acted with
brutality toward last Saturday's demonstrators. Today, the calls for nonviolence apparently were taken to heart.
In a statement released late Friday, Lazaro Gonzalez made a plea for the community to remain calm, saying: "Elian is gone for now and my heart is broken, but South Florida must stay united. We cannot allow this tragedy to destroy our community."
City police, still smarting from criticism about their conduct, cordoned off most of Southwest Eighth Street today, expecting one of the largest crowds to date in the Elian controversy. Organizers said they expected as many as 80,000 people; a demonstration late last month drew about 20,000.
"We're sort of letting them have that whole thoroughfare, as long as they are peaceful," said city police spokesman Delrish Moss.
A much smaller rally in support of the federal government's actions stretched for nearly two miles along busy U.S. 1, with protesters describing themselves as Americans who love America.
Fernando and Patricia Martinez, both 49, said they love America too. But as a Cuban American, Fernando, who was 9 when he left his homeland in 1960, cannot help but feel "that a great injustice is being done" in Elian's case. He also is disturbed by the way the rest of the country
seems to be viewing Cuban Americans.
"We are called the Cuban mafia. Look around and what do you see?" asked Fernando, an engineer, indicating the throngs of quiet, well-dressed demonstrators carrying cellular telephones and folding lawn chairs. "We don't hate people. We want to get rid of Castro. I love this
country, but we can't continue to turn our backs."
As the crowds trooped down Calle Ocho, their posters reflected their hostile feelings toward Washington: "Wake Up, America, You are Being Lied To," and "News Bulletin: Children For Sale in the White House." Many of the protesters wore "Federal Child Abuse" T-shirts,
showing the now-famous photograph of an armed agent confronting a frightened Elian.
"They shouldn't have used such drastic measures to get a little boy," said Laura Hernandez, 15.
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