The Most Beautiful Girl in Cuba - Chanel Cleeton Page 0,24
The Republican William McKinley was elected president after a contentious election, ensuring the moneyed classes have a friend in the White House. His views on Cuba remain to be seen, but after his own military experiences, he is said to be opposed to war in principle. And still, he supports the Monroe Doctrine and firm foreign policy, and his political party favors intervention and foreign investment opportunities. He’s rumored to be a man concerned with courting public opinion, and therein lies Mr. Hearst’s opportunity. Conflict seems imminent, and we are all on tenterhooks to see what McKinley will do. The stock market has been particularly volatile, plunging considerably, and the number of people joining militia groups has risen substantially.
The stories coming from our correspondents in Cuba are grim. Hearst has moved beyond his desire for the United States to formally recognize the revolutionary movement and is demanding that the American government restore order in Cuba, protecting American citizens and their investments on the island, and bringing an end to Spain’s suppression of the rebellion and the suffering of the Cuban people. For a country like the United States founded on a desire for liberation from a foreign power, the conflict in Cuba certainly resonates with our American audience. Not to mention, the close proximity to our shores makes Cuba a more compelling issue for our readers than so many other places around the world where horrible things happen on a regular basis.
The Spanish have made it harder to get news and correspondents in and out of the country, so Hearst has commissioned a new dispatch boat to travel down to the region, a yacht that is considered to be the fastest in New York, the Vamoose. Still, censors monitor everything, and Hearst’s correspondents’ movements are closely tracked, the Spanish careful to keep our reporters from getting too close to the fighting and to the revolutionaries. The end result is that most of our impressions of the war come from Cuban sources outside of the country—groups like these women’s clubs and their male counterparts. There are estimated to be well over one hundred such clubs in the United States.
“Bring me something good,” Hearst says before dismissing me.
“Yes, of course. Thank you for the opportunity, sir.”
I lengthen my strides in an attempt to keep up with Mr. Harden as I follow him, curious gazes being cast our way. As usual, the newsroom is a flurry of activity, and everyone is eager to get the scoop on breaking news—including the sight of me with one of Hearst’s personal friends.
We exit the newsroom and walk through the building. Mr. Harden glances back at me a few times, but he doesn’t slow down until we reach the street where an ostentatious carriage waits at the curb.
Rafael gestures for me to enter the vehicle ahead of him, and I climb in and seat myself on the bench.
“How did your sister become involved with the revolutionary women’s club?” I ask him once he has settled across from me. Rafael crosses his legs, shifting to accommodate his size. For as big as the carriage is, he must be several inches over six feet, and much of it is leg.
“Our mother was born in Cuba. She came here in 1868 during the start of the first war for independence with the intent to return when her country was free. She met my father, and they married. Our mother never returned home. There are quite a few Cubans living in the United States, particularly on the East Coast and in New York. It’s as good a place as any to settle. My sister Elena has taken an interest in the island and kept abreast of the situation there. We still have family in Cuba. Elena has been an active member of the club since the fighting broke out again.”
“Was your father born in Cuba as well?”
“No, he was from New York.”
I note the past tense. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“It was a long time ago. I was just a boy.”
“I was twelve when my father passed. It’s a difficult thing to lose a parent.”
He turns away from me and glances out the carriage window.
“Are you involved with the revolutionaries as well?” I ask.
“I’m not. My sister has enough enthusiasm for the both of us.”
“And what do you do?”
He laughs, the sound surprisingly full and rich. “I am not the story, Miss Harrington. I am merely doing a favor for Will. And my sister.”