Once an idea gets into my head, it pesters me. Everywhere I turned, Cuba kept coming up. Later that same year, I read James Michener's Caribbean while sailing through those islands on my own boat, only to find he’d devoted a chapter to Cuba.
That same year, Ry Cooder, the jazz guitarist, released a CD (and later a documentary film) of five old Cuban musicians who called themselves The Buena Vista Social Club, named after a private club in Havana that closed in 1940. The musicians brought back the Cuban beat and soulful songs of Cuba's heyday. It climbed to the top of the charts.
That same year, 1996, a forbidden film, I Am Cuba, became available to rent. Two years after the revolution, two Soviet filmmakers shot the featruire lengthj film that some US government agencies forbade its release in the country because it was too political. The Russians and Castro's allies also disapproved of the film, citing additional reasons. They felt it was too “artistic” and not political enough. They shot it in black-and-white on infrared film, creating a surreal, dreamlike vision of Cuba. The Russians paid for the film as propaganda, hoping to show that Communism was the way of the future. It didn’t. However, the film was a significant cinematic masterpiece, prompting Martin Scorsese and Francis Coppola to petition the US government for its screening in film study courses that year. The Hollywood cinematographer, Vilmos Zsigmond, asked me to rent a 16-mm print to show in his film workshop. It is an amazing film, with camera moves, visuals, and sequences never attempted before in filmmaking.
The idea of Cuba would not let go of me. I was sure a series of photography workshops in Cuba would be successful and profitable. Besides, it might be fun just to see if I can pull it off. A winter program in Cuba would also allow me to escape the cold, snowy winters of Maine.
If you don't pay attention to an idea, it will eventually fall on someone else's shoulders.
“Okay, okay! I’ll see who else likes this idea.”
I needed to test the market. I included a full-page announcement in our 1998 summer catalog, featuring a hand-drawn and colored map of Cuba floating in a blue sea. More than 80 people were ready to make a deposit. I needed to know quickly how to implement the idea.
We would need a license from the US Treasury, as it is prohibited to bring Americans into Cuba due to the embargo. We might also need permission from a Cuban institution. We’d need classroom space, hotels, labs to process the students’ film, and people to help. I needed to get down there to do my research.
While in New York City that fall, I visited the Center for Cuban Studies and met Sandra Levinson, the director. She organizes educational and religious trips to Cuba under a US Treasury license, hosted by one of Cuba’s religious organizations. Sandra briefed me on the process and suggested I could simply join one of her programs.
However, I came to the realization that she would take my profit and require us to participate in her religious tours instead. This would be too restrictive to say anything about profitability. I told her I was heading to Cuba soon, and she did give me contact information for a Cuban “fixer” who might help—Victor Pina.
I found Michael Sykes on the Internet. He ran Cuba Cultural Travel in California, a semi-official organization that booked hotel rooms for tour groups. Michael lived on the West Coast, was married to a Cuban, and was savvy about getting around government policies, ours and theirs. He’d been “importing” Cuban cigars undercover into the States for years. He could book rooms for us.
I approached the US Treasury Department, requesting a permit to conduct educational and cultural programs in Cuba. I got back a simple "no." I wrote letters to Olympia Snow and Susan Collins, our Maine Senators at the time, asking for help. I never heard back from Snow, but Collins wrote me personally, telling me she was looking into it and advising me to reapply for a travel permit to research our program in Cuba. I did and got the permit. Thanks, Susan. With a travel permit to visit Cuba, I could now make plans to visit Cuba.
Since I am barely able to read a Spanish menu, I would need someone who speaks Spanish to accompany me—someone who knew The Workshop's philosophy and how they run. Anna Levine had been on my staff the previous summer. She grew up in Mexico, and Spanish was her second language. Anna is in her mid-twenties, attractive, and talkative. She came to The Workshops last summer as part of our Work Study crew. This is an 8-week program where the WS teams attend a class in the mornings, work around the campus in the afternoons, and work all day Sunday to get the campus ready for the following week. I fired Anna that summer for taking off with another WS crew member in my canoe instead of setting up for the Thursday faculty lawn party at my lake cottage.
However, forgiveness always prevails, and Anna eagerly accepted tummy invitation yo come along and translate.
Now, I know what you are thinking, but by this time in my life, I have finally settled down with one woman, Julie. I am now a family man and a father. My relationship with Anna was strictly business-related.
In February (1999), I made plans to fly to Havana. Michael made reservations for Anne and me at the Hotel Parque Central, a 4-star Dutch hotel in the center of Havana. I made plane reservations for Anna and myself to fly to Cuba, via Cancun, in late February.
Off on another of my hair-brand adventures.
- Chapter 2 -
Back to This Idea of Cuba!