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Rene Ramos (00:02):
I know your name, but for the record, if you could tell us your name and where you live and what you do for a living. Miguel Pérez (00:11): My name is Miguel Pérez and 'm a retired joumalism and history professor, although I still teach a history class, part-time, one class per semester online, and it's all about the history of Hispanics in what is now the United States territory. It's a very specific course that is really not taught anywhere else in the country because Hispanic history is excluded from American history books and there's like a hundred years before the pilgrims arrived that Americans are not told about. And that's what I'm about. (00:50): I have a website called hiddenhispanicheritage.com, and that's the textbook that my students use. I have been all over the country because again, before I was a history professor, I was a joumalist for 40 years and a newspaper columnist. I was a columnist for the New York Daily News, and so I wanted to tell history from a joumalist perspective. What I do and what I have been doing now for 15 years is going to all these historic sites all over the country. That's why I'm in Miami now, visiting historic sites all over the country and writing about each one of them and compiling them. There's probably about 200 of them already on the website, and eventually, that will become two books that I'm working on at the same time. I hope that was enough. Rene Ramos (01:43): That was great. There are two words that I want to talk about that are often used in conjunction with the Cuban community at large, but mainly in South Florida. The words are exile and refugee. Could you tell me what those words mean to you? Miguel Pérez (0214): Nothing to be ashamed of. That's what the bottom line is. I tell people, excuse me, these are people that you're talking about now as if they were aliens or whatever, and you're calling them refugees, I was a refugee and I'm proud of it. It's a source of pride for me, but I understand that those words have been distorted somewhat and it's terrible. Rene Ramos (02:42): If you were to explain it to somebody who had never heard the word before, what would you tell them an exile is? Miguel Pérez (02:48): An exile is someone who needed freedom, needed a place to live in freedom and needed to move from his homeland and seek freedom elsewhere. Rene Ramos (03:02): Let's do the same exercise with the word refugee. What would you tell someone who had never heard that word before what it means? Miguel Pérez (03:09): Someone who needed refuge. Someone who came to this country hoping to find open arms, help. Just like Jesus would've done in spite of the so-called evangelical movement nowadays that want to tum its back on immigrants. Rene Ramos (0329): I want to travel back in time. I guess we could do it a couple of different ways. But first, let's talk about what you can remember of your family life in Cuba before coming to the United States. Could you tell us, could you set the scene for us and what things were like and what led to your family deciding to come to the United States? Miguel Pérez (03:58): I lived in a very small country town called Santo Cristo de la Salud in Havana province, better known as La Salud. I lived in a farm. I had the greatest childhood one can ever imagine. My mother was a teacher. My father was the secretary of elections for the whole district. My grandfather was a guy who registered people and the notary that notarized people when they were baptized. He used to work for the government. I forget the title. He was the guy who you came in, you had a baby and you gave him 15 names. Maria Teresita Rodriguez Perez. My grandfather hated that so much that everyone in my family doesn't have a middle name. I'm just Miguel Pérez. No middle name, no one, and it was because it came from my grandfather, but he was a genius in my opinion. He was an agricultural person. He ended up owning several farms, ended up very, very rich toward the end of our time in Cuba. He was was a genius in the sense that, l'll tell you one quick little anecdote about my grandfather. He also lived with us here in Miami. He died in Miami. (05:22): Can you imagine in the 1950s, someone going from Cuba, this is how well off my grandfather was at that time, on vacation to Hawaii? He goes to Hawaii with my grandmother and my aunt, and he realizes that they have this very sweet littie papayas that they don't have in Cuba and they're Hawaiian of origin, the little papayas that we see everywhere now. He basically ate a couple of boxes of papaya there, took the seeds back to Cuba, and in a few years, he was competing with Hawaii in importing little papayas to the United States. He had the market on papayas in Cuba because it turned out that the soil in Cuba was very good for them. Basically, he stole the Hawaiian papayas on a vacation trip and came back and became very, very rich because of that. He was already rich, but the papaya venture was amazing. That was toward the end of the 1950s that this was happening. I was already a boy. (06:25): In fact, when I was a kid, I was used in commercials to promote the papaya thing. I remember myself standing on a box, them taking pictures of me holding a little papayita. But anyway, that was my childhood. I roamed around. I had horses. Over the years, right next to the family farm, my grandmother had grown every conceivable fruit tree that you can imagine. Anon, mamey, guayaba, it was like paradise. You would just walk out there and grab them. The mameys would fall off the trees because there was too many of them. That's where I lived. I lived in paradise. The change was dramatic. I didn't speak a word of English when I came. My parents sat me down one day and said, "Hey, guess what? We're going to the United States." They had already made up their mind and I was 11 years old and there was nothing I was going to do about it. And the plan, what my family had to go through to get here. My brother Beny, who was seven years older than I and died 10 years ago here in Miami, had to lead the way. And so what they did in those days, in order to get to the United States, you had to have somebody claim you from the United States, and we had no one to claim us. My brother, who was 17 at the time, was sent to Jamaica and then spent six months or so in Jamaica until he got a visa at the American embassy in Jamaica to come as an exile. (08:24): Once he got to Miami, then he was able to claim me and my parents, and then my parents, a year later, were able to claim their parents, my grandparents, and so forth, It was a process of several years to get the whole family over here. But it was this initial sacrifice of my brother at 17. Unlike me, I had the privilege really of getting here at only 11, so I was able to go to school. I didn't have to drop out. My brother had to drop out. My brother was a genius also. He was a very bright man and he would've done well if he could have gone to college, but he had to sacrifice that for the family. Rene Ramos (0910): I want to explore a little bit about what your impressions were, because it's a real good opportunity for us with someone who was really kind of a conscious individual at the time this is all happening. With some folks, we're just talking memory or second hand memories, but with you, we have direct memories. What was it like coming here? You said your family essentially, you felt that you were in paradise. What were your first impressions when you came to the United States? What were the things that made impressions on you at that age? Miguel Pérez (09:49): Well, before I got on the plane, I tell everybody about the gusanos. You know what the gusanos were, right? People don't realize that there were duffel bags that we were required to use when leaving Cuba. It was the only kind of luggage they allowed, three changes of everything and duffel bags. They used to call us gusanos and that's how we ended up with the term gusanos. When I hear the term gusano, I'm not offended. The anti-Cuban, whatever the site they may be coming from, they use gusanos as a derogatory term. Thank you very much. I am proud to be a gusano. Thank you. Back to your question. I'm sorry. Rene Ramos (10:30): That's okay. When you came with your gusano ... Miguel Pérez (10:35): Yeah. Miguel Pérez (10:36): My impression of Miami. Rene Ramos (10:38): Yeah. Miguel Pérez (10:40): My uncle had come with my brother. When my brother went to Jamaica, he came with one of my uncles, so the two of them were in Jamaica and then waiting for the rest of the family when we arrived here. That first day, my brother took my parents. He had already set up an apartment for us on Southwest 4th Street, right there, in the heart of Little Havana. My brother went and picked up my parents. I don't remember. I think it was Opa-locka that we were arriving at at that time, but we were picked up by my brother and my uncle. My uncle took me and my parents went with my brother back to the apartment and all that. My uncle said, "No," (they used to called me Chiche). "I'm taking Chiche with me," so I went and my uncle took me to the farmers' market in Miami, because he wanted to impress me. It's a form of torture that they do to Cubans, but a lot of people do that. They take you to the produce department when you arrive, so you can see all the abundance. That's what he did. (M:56): But he actually lived in Northeast Miami near, I don't even know if the farmers' market is still there. It's been so many years. But he took me to the farmers' market back then. It was like, I couldn't believe it because I came from a farm and now everything was beginning to run out. Now I see this and I began to cry. I was 11 years old. The first impression, day one, April 7, 1962, I'm at La Plaza here at Northeast Miami and I'm crying watching this, so it had a shocking, shocking impression on me. But the rest; I grew up in Little Havana, went to Ada Merritt Junior High School, which was supposed to be, at the time, the toughest place to go. Before that, I went to Riverside Elementary. Talk about busing, right? Everybody's, for years now, has been talking about the controversy about busing kids. I would walk to Riverside. They would put me on a bus and drive me to Snapper Creek Elementary, which is way out there. It's still far. Okay? They would drive me to Snapper Creek Elementary every day and then bring me back to Riverside, and then I would walk home from Riverside. This was the routine. (13:12): I did that fourth grade in Snapper Creek, fifth grade in Silver Bluff Elementary and sixth grade, I had already moved down to where the Brickell area is now, and it's still there: Southside Elementary, and if you look for Southside Elementary, you can't even find it, it's there, but it's surrounded by high-rises. It's an incredible site because that's where I grew up. I used to deliver the Miami News in the afternoons with a basket in the front of the bicycle in that whole Brickell area, which is totally different now. It's amazingly different. My house that was there and all that, it's all buildings now. Rene Ramos (13:54): The Miami News was first published out of the building that we call the Freedom Tower. Miguel Pérez (14:00): Yes, sir. Rene Ramos As you know. Miguel Pérez (14:01): Yes, sir. Rene Ramos (14:03): I want to use the article that you wrote and the experience that you had as kind of a touchstone for exploring your family's experience of the Freedom Tower and the services that were provided there. Could you tell us a little bit about the experience that you had? Let's go backwards. Let's start with the experience you had when you went to the original exhibits that we had there, and you encountered the photograph that you mentioned in the article and then, let's dig into what is being represented in that photograph and what the experience was of your family in contact with the Freedom Tower. Miguel Pérez (14:47): Well, I went there after so many years, probably about 50 years since I had not been in the building. Because again, I am a historian visiting Hispanic heritage sites, and I told myself, this is a very personal, moving story. I can write about this building because I went through this experience. I can tell my own family story by going to this building, and I knew that already the exhibit existed in the building, but I had no idea. I knew that there was an exhibit about what had happened there in the 1960s, and I also think I knew that the photos were from the Miami Herald or some of the photos were from the Miami Herald. That's what I knew. I said, "This is perfect. I'm going to go there. I'm going to write an article about what it means to me." |
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