Showing posts from: September 2018
Cienfuegos: Elegant Neo-classical Architecture and Splendour in the Park
Cienfuegos, on the southern coast of Cuba (about 250km from Havana) is another day trip highlight within reach of the capital. The name Cienfuegos literally means “One thousand fires”, whilst the beauty of its architecture has invited comparisons with Paris and other European capitals, earning itself the sobriquet La Perla del Sur (Pearl of the South).
Parque Jose Martí, forming Cienfuegos’ Plaza de Armas, is probably the most attractive and leafy of all plazas I visited in Cuba. At the park’s entrance a brace of stone lions on marble foundations stand guard. Throughout there are neatly-maintained hedges and tree-filled gardens. A walkway from the eastern edge of Parque JM leads to a long, city boulevard which reflects the influence of the first, French settlers of Cienfuegos, as does the many 19th and early 20th century grand neo-classical buildings overlooking the park, eg, the elegant, grey provincial parliamentary building with a crimson dome (Antiguo Ayuntamiento), the Tomas Terry Teatro (Theatre), the Cienfuegos Cathedral with crimson domes and the foremost French stained glass windows in all the country and the blue Ferrer Palace (see in detail below).
Other points of interest within Parque JM are a statue of the eponymous and ubiquitous hero of Cuban independence, Martí, an impressive, fawn coloured triumphal arch erected in 1902 to celebrate Cuba’s independence (diagonally across from the Ferrer building), and a crimson-domed gazebo or bandstand (note a recurring motif here: crimson appears from all the evidence to be the preferential colour of Cienfuegueros‘ when it comes to domes of buildings in the city!). The park is a great place to stroll round or just sit (plenty of shaded seating) and relax while watching the passing parade of Cienfuegueros.
N⍛ 5401, Calle 25, is the address of perhaps the most beautiful building in Cienfuegos. The Benjamin Duarte Casa de la Cultura (one of several designated casas de la cultura in the city), was originally the Palacio de Ferrer. This old villa (built 1918) is for me just about the stand-out building, aesthetics wise, although there is some stiff competition for that mantle among quite an array of neo-classical gems (special mention: Teatro Tomas Terry). The Ferrer interior unfortunately doesn’t quite match the elegant charm of the exterior, although it has attractive Italianate marble floors. The downside is that inside its all a bit tired and worn, in need of some TLC…they seemed to be undertaking some repair work on the walls when I visited it. Predominantly, the facade of the villa is a delightful pale blue colour…abutting the palace to its right is another building, fawnish-pink in colour – it seems that this was built up against the Ferrer’s side after the palace ceased to function as such.
The architectural feature that most gives Ferrer Palace its distinctive character is the cute little rooftop cupola – which is reached via by a narrow spiral staircase made of wrought-iron. From atop the Ferrer’s endearing cupola, a viewing tower (a mirador) affords you fantastic 360° views of the city and the nearby bay. A cost applies to ascend the narrow staircase (one at a time!): 1 CUC per climber).
Photo: Anton Ivanov/Freepics
Historical footnote Cienfuegos, like the not-far-away Bay of Pigs and the Cuban Missile Crisis, has a connection with the Cold War. In September 1970 American intelligence detected that the Soviet Union was building a covert nuclear submarine base in the Bahia de Cienfuegos. The prospect of a response from the hawkish Nixon administration seemed likely with the danger of a confrontation escalating to the level of the 1962 Missile Crisis. This expected eventuality did not ensue primarily because of timing. At the same moment as the Cienfuegos episode, the US was embroiled in or focussed on other international events that were playing out, viz. the Civil War in Jordan, the election of a socialist (Allende) government in Chile (plus it had only been a matters of months prior to this that the US extended the Vietnam War into Cambodia). Nixon therefore held off on a show of force and the ‘crisis’ was defused diplomatically soon after when Secretary of State Kissinger bluffed the Soviets into discontinuing construction of the submarine base [Asaf Siniver, ‘The Nixon Administration and the Cienfuegos crisis of 1970: crisis-management or non-crisis’, Review of International Studies, 34(1), Jan 2008].
On the Cuban Guerrillero Cultural Icon Trail: Channelling ‘Che’ in Santa Clara
Having visited the site of the 1961 Bay of Pigs invasion and the Museum that commemorates its triumphant outcome for the Cuban people, our appetite to learn more about “The Revolution” was piqued. The city of Cienfuegos was on our itinerary and as another saga of the war to liberate Cuba from a right-wing dictatorship with US mafiosi connexions was at hand in nearby Villa Clara province, a small detour was in order.
The pueblo of Santa Clara is inextricably woven into the story of Ernesto Guevara and his victory in the decisive battle of the civil war against the Batista regime. Guevara or simply ‘Che’ – the image that launched a million T-shirts, and the man who signed many more million pesos’ worth of Cuban bank notes!✱ – is proudly remembered and commonly revered, especially in this part of Cuba, as two separate Santa Clara monuments testify.
The first is in the centre of the township itself, a monument to the final victory of the war (Battle of Santa Clara, 31st December 1958) when a Cuban battalion under Comandante Che derailed a train carrying government troops, ammunition and heavy weapons, intended to reinforce Batista’s embattled army in Havana.
A portion of the captured train still sits on the site, now part of a monument to the battle which clinched victory for Castro and the Cuban rebels. In Spanish the monument is called Monumento a la Toma del Tren Blindado (literally “Monument to the Taking of the Armoured Train”)
The other tangible tribute to the legendary Cuban revolutionary líder is more personal, not far from the city is Guevara’s sombre but impressive mausoleum (Mausoleo de Ernesto Guevara). The monument was originally conceived as a memorial to the charismatic maestro guerrillero who was executed and buried in the Bolivian jungle in 1967… thirty years later the Cuban government retrieved his exhumed body and returned it to Santa Clara. The remains of Che and 29 of his fellow guerrilla fighters are interred here in a large burial vault (in area a decent sized lounge room).
The mausoleum remains a popular place to visit for tourists as well as Cubans, there were several big tourist buses and umpteen dozen cars in the parking lot when our group visited. The immediately noticeable feature of the mausoleum building which is set down on a wide patch of land is the extra-large statue of Che. Cast in bronze, it is 22 feet high and characteristically depicts Che armed and dressed in army/militia fatigues. The statue officially goes by the somewhat ‘highfalutin’ title Ernesto Guevara Sculptural Complex (AKA Complejo Monumental Ernesto Che Guevara).
Security around the mausoleum entrance was pretty tight, more guards than you think might be necessary hovered around the entrance portal. We all lined up and were soon ushered in by a bevy of serious-faced officials and whisked out again fairly rapidly. There was not a lot to see inside in any case, it was dimly lit and unnervingly cold. We glanced at the photos of the 30 dead comrades on the wall and spotted a few pieces of Che paraphernalia on display – such as Che’s handgun (Czechoslovakian), his water canteen and field glasses.
There’s not much else to the complex (a lot of vacant space actually) but there is a gift shop (Tienda Artex) (opportunity to get that authentic “Che in classic Guerrillero Heroico pose” T-shirt on Che’s own turf!) and a restaurante/cantina. There’s another, official looking building close to the arched entrance to the shops but I couldn’t work out what it was used for.
The museum maintains a strict prohibition on the taking of photos within the burial vault, so I didn’t even give a thought to trying to sneak a quick ‘Polaroid’ (even if I had one) – the officials, all wearing the same “not happy Juan” face, gave the impression they meant business!
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✱ from when he was governor of the National Bank of Cuba and succinctly signed his nickname ‘Che’ on all legal tender
The ‘Monopoly Myth’, a Review of The Monopolists
Monopoly: (n.) a market situation where one producer (or group of producers acting in unison) controls supply of a good or service, and where the entry of new producers is prevented or highly restricted; “exclusive possession” of the commodity is customarily implicit in the term [www.businesssdictionary.com; www.en.oxforddictionaries.com]
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As a kid my favourite board game wasn’t Monopoly, it was an old Milton Bradley game called Pirate and Traveler✱, however I certainly did play Monopoly an awful lot of times growing up (and it seemed like every game went for an interminably long amount of time!). So, having clocked up that amount of wasted Monopoly game-time, I was more than mildly interested to revisit my youth via a recent book on the universal and ubiquitous board game, and even more intrigued that its author, Mary Pilon, presents a radically different take on the genesis and development of Monopoly to what hitherto was been the received orthodoxy.
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Ralph Anspach comes into the story in 1973, six years after Darrow—made a multi-millionaire by the runaway success of Monopoly—had died. Anspach is an avowed anti-monopolist, by conviction a “trust-buster” who is mightily annoyed at the OPEC oil cartel’s stranglehold over that essential world commodity at the time (the 1973 Oil Crisis). He pursues his ideals by creating an Anti-Monopoly game in opposition to Parker Brothers’ über celebrated game. Parker Brothers sues Anspach for breach of copyright and so begins nearly ten years of legal battles with Parker Bros (in fact by this time the company was controlled by the General Mills corporation)…Anspach’s tireless research for the case leads him to the true, albeit convoluted, origins of Monopoly☸.
The Monopolists recounts Anspach’s monumental efforts and endlessly time-draining “detective work” in minute detail. Anspach traces the game back to one Elizabeth (Lizzie) Magie (long pre-dating Darrow), and here’s where the story gets really interesting! Magie, an independent-thinking, politically progressive Midwestern woman, was a staunch supporter of Henry George. George was the author of Progress and Poverty, a widely influential text which fuelled the introduction of the Progressive Era in the US (1890s-1920s). George advocated the introduction of a Single Tax on land and property (AKA Land Value Tax). Ms Magie invented and patented a board game in 1903-1904☯, called the Landlord’s Game, based on Georgist principles of wealth redistribution. Magie’s game was in her words, “a practical demonstration of the present system of land-grabbing with all the usual consequences” [Single Tax Review, 1902], the Landlord’s Game was intended to educate Americans about the dangers of unbridled capitalism (ie, ultimately resulting in the monopolisation of business, benefitting only one player)⌑.
When I played Monopoly in the 1960s the takeaway message for me always aligned with the “Gordon Gecko/Greed is Good” world view…gold standard instruction on how to win at capitalism – with ruthlessness and a certain degree of luck! Pilon points out the fundamental irony of Magie’s “thought-child” – once Parker Bros got their hands on Monopoly, the company left not a single stone unturned in the pursuit of eliminating any rival claims to “their game”⊡. Monopoly, under the aegis of Parker Bros, a game with the sole raison d’être of annihilating all business competitors, leaving a solitary victor, was the complete opposite of what the game’s prototype inventor intended it to be! Moreover, to further underscore the irony, the game became controlled by a company (Parker Bros) that “fought tooth and nail to maintain its own monopoly over it”.
Back to Ralph Anspach’s anti-monopoly crusade – as well as introducing or reintroducing Lizzie Magie to the world, the economics professor’s years of searching, digging in archives, interviewing people of interest across the United States, word-of-mouth, friend-of-a-friend, sometimes down blind alleys, etc, revealed that the games (or games) of Monopoly had been played in various forms and under various names for decades before Charles Darrow’s Pennsylvanian neighbours introduced him to the game. Pilon ties together all the threads of Monopoly’s antecedents – as unearthed by the indefatigably never-say-die Ralph Anspach. What came to light was that Magie’s game, either in its original published form (‘The Landlord’s Game’) or in derivative ‘backyard’ versions, had been played (prior to the publication of Darrow’s Monopoly) as follows:
⌲ among members of the early 20th century rural community of Arden (Delaware), an “alternative lifestyle” arts and crafts colony of “Single Taxers” (including the influential writer Upton Sinclair and the radical economist Scott Nearing who spread the word about Magie’s game to other locations)
⌲ among members of the Quaker community residing in Atlantic City in the 1920s (many Quaker families held “Monopoly nights”)
⌲ among left-wing university students and college “frat boys” on the Eastern Seaboard
⌲ among couples and families in urban Philadelphia (including those neighbours who first taught the game to Charles Darrow)
Unbeknownst to Lizzie Magie, many versions of her ‘Landlord’s Game’ had sprung up in the North-East of the country, often these early, widely dispersed players made their own homemade versions of Monopoly using hand-painted oil cloths, local street names and substitute tokens. In addition George Layton created and sold his own commercial version (which he called ‘Finance’) in the early 1930s. By the thirties a version of the game had spread to Texas – Rudy Copeland’s published board game of ‘Inflation’.
Parker Brothers’ whole claim on Monopoly was based on the contention that the game had no precedents to its 1935 patent with Darrow. Anspach’s pains-taking spade work proved that the game in various guises and forms existed “in the Public Domain” years and years before the Parkers and Darrow came on the scene!
Pilon injects many diverse strands in the narrative, even Abraham Lincoln makes a brief (oblique) appearance in The Monopolists – in the late 1850s Lizzie’s father James Magie, a newspaper editor and abolitionist, was an instrumental part of Lincoln’s political campaigns for office…this digression has a very tenuous connexion with Monopoly! The various currents traversed by the author takes the story beyond the purview of being a straightforward account of plagiarised copyrights and game inventions. The book illuminates the position of women in late 19th/early 20th century American society by positing what made Magie stand out from others of her sex at the time and what she was able to achieve – taking on a number of vocations and pursuits, retaining her autonomy and avoiding the “marriage trap”, becoming an inventor (in addition to the Landlord’s Game she held patents for inventions in the realm of stenography as well).
The three Parker Brothers ➚
Another strand follows the career of George S Parker, the founder of the eponymous games empire. Parker published his first board game (‘Banking’) at 17, and from the get-go was determined to establish a monopoly, systematically building up a catalog by buying up other manufacturers’ games (leading him headlong into an ongoing rivalry with fellow games giant Milton Bradley). In Parker’s zeal to totally tie down the company’s ownership and control of Monopoly, the company even went round buying up old (Pre-Parker) Monopoly sets. Eventually George Parker talked Lizzie Magie (by this time now Elizabeth Magie Phillips) into parting with her patent for the Landlord’s Game, and paying her a pittance for it with no residuals (despite inventing the archetypical business game Magie lacked business acumen and naively trusted Parker’s intentions to do the right thing by her and her invention, which he didn’t!)
The author takes the reader on another diversion, straying away from the origin controversy to surprisingly explore Monopoly’s role in World War II! The US Military purchased Monopoly sets to be sent to POWs detained in German prisons (and elsewhere in Europe). The intent behind this practice had a dual purpose: to boost morale for the imprisoned soldiers, but also a practical one –
Coda: The after-affects of Ralph Anspach’s 1983 victory over Parker Brothers in the US Supreme Court (including the ruling that the word monopoly was in fact generic) hasn’t brought any sense of closure to supporters of Elizabeth Magie Phillips. The public acknowledgement warranted her as the true and original inventor of Monopoly has not been forthcoming. Pilon points out that in the 1980s Parker Bros “quietly began to massage its Monopoly history”…a 1988 history of the company by a former Parker Bros R & D head admits that Darrow was not the game’s inventor, but neglects to mention Lizzie Magie. Similarly, on the official Monopoly website in the Nineties, Hasbro, Inc, which purchased Parker Brothers in 1991, starts the Monopoly story at 1933 with Darrow and scantly acknowledges the influence of the Landlord’s Game (again without mentioning Lizzie by name!) No plaque for Lizzie’s prototype of the Monopoly game exists anywhere (although there is one in Atlantic City recognising the contribution of that city’s Quaker players to the invention of the game!)
FN: Mary Pilon’s research for The Monopolists is nothing if not thorough. In the end-piece she includes a long, long list of acknowledgements of her sources, helpers and supporters, she even gives a hearty shout-out to coffee shops in seven different cities (I said she was thorough!)…one very notable exception missing from the author’s acknowledgement of research help is Hasbro! Hasbro denied Pilon’s request to access the Parker Brothers’ archives and outright refused to answer any of the many fact-checking queries she submitted to the world’s largest toy and games company. Zero marks to Hasbro for the cause of corporate transparency…ummm, given how much she gleaned from other sources, I wonder what else they didn’t want her to discover?
The Monopolists: Obsession, Fury, and the Scandal Behind the World’s Favorite Board Game, by Mary Pilon [Bloomsbury New York: 2016 p/b ed.]
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✱ Pirate and Traveler later got relaunched with some modifications and an updated aviation theme as a game called Pan American which I played with equal relish. The idea of these two games was to spin a number or roll a dice, collect a destination card and progress from one city to another city somewhere in the world. When you completed a requisite number of destinations, you hightailed it back to a home base city (Godthab, Greenland), first one there was the winner! The games educated me on political geography and I learnt the distance (in miles in those days) between different places on the world map
⊚ with Atlantic City street names on the earliest editions of the Monopoly sets (later editions of the game utilised New York City streets and London streets on their boards)
✥ a comparison of the visuals of Magie’s original 1904 patented game and Darrow’s 1935 patented Monopoly reveals profound continuities…Darrow’s replicates essential features of Magie’s – a square board, a space “for the emblematic GO TO JAIL”, a “Public Park” space (anticipating the Parkers’ “Free Parking”), ‘chance’ cards, the use of tokens representing money, deeds and properties
☸ Parker Bros, when taking on Darrow’s game, accepted and promoted the myth that Darrow had fed them, ie, HE invented the game from his own head in the early 1930s, and that there were NO precedents for it
☯ by a remarkable happenstance of history Lizzie filed her patent claim on the same day in 1903 as the infinitely more famous Wright brothers filed their “flying machine” patent
⌑ interestingly Magie devised two versions of the Landlord’s Game – version 1, the objective was to crush all of your opponents (= the contemporary game of Monopoly produced by Parker Bros), and version 2 – the objective was to create wealth for all to share
⊡ the three Parker brothers (especially George) were evangelically zealous about this because, as the author explains, the company had been “badly burnt” twice before with two products that they had thought that they held exclusive control and ownership of – ‘Tiddlywinks’ and ‘Ping Pong’
Mantanzas’ South Coast: Dive Sites, Beach Resorts, the ‘Bay of Triggerfish’ and a Monument to National Memory
From rustic Viñales we did a long trek by road (some eight hours) to the province of Mantanzas, our ultimate stop was a resort spot on the south coast called Playa Larga (Eng: ‘Long Beach’). This picturesque coastal village was the scene of the explosive Cold War incident in April 1961 when a CIA-financed and US-trained force of exiles attempted to invade Castro’s Cuba from the south (Playa Larga was one of the two beaches that the mercenaries landed at✱). Courtesy of the media and publicity at the time, westerners know this area as the Bay of Pigs…in Spanish the name is Bahía de Cochinos. ‘Cochinos’ does translate to ‘pigs’, but in Cuban Spanish ‘Cochinos’ can also mean ‘triggerfish’. Given the abundance of colourful fish (including triggerfish) we saw whilst swimming in the bay (and the visible lack of pigs at the site!), the term ‘Bay of Triggerfish’ sounds infinitely more apt!
As we came off the Autopista Nacional and headed south, passing a vast area of wilderness and swampland on our right (Parque Nacional Ciénega de Zapata). A short while later we reached Boca de Guamá (Mouth of the gulf), known for its resorts and boat rides through the massive great swampy peninsula. When we got to ‘Long Beach’ we stopped near a scuba dive-and-snorkel hire kiosk where there was an entry point into the bay to swim. To get into the water we had to cross a narrow but jagged rocky shore. Halfway across the rocky ledge, the folly of not bringing rubber-soled aquatic shoes to Playa Larga became painfully apparent to me (ouch!). The Caribbean water was a beautiful turquoise colour but I found it a bit choppy for swimming (explains why there was only a couple of other people swimming there when we visited). This didn’t seem to deter the snorkellers in our group who thoroughly enjoyed plunging under to explore the delights of the bay’s coral reefs❂.
A stopover here also offers you an alternative to swimming or snorkelling in the bay. If you cross back over the coastal road, passing the dive and snorkel kiosk and head in an inland direction, the short trail through the wilderness will land you at another aqua delight of Playa Larga, a swimming-pool size natural cénote♉! After experiencing the joys of swimming in cénotes in Southern Mexico, I had been anticipating trying out a cénote in Cuba. Unfortunately two things soured the experience – the cénote (unlike the ones in Mexico) didn’t have a cavernous limestone roof and a deep well where you had to descend down a spiralling staircase – elements contributing to a large part of both the fun and the atmosphere! Also, access to the natural pool was inhibited by the existence of a razor-sharp corridor of more jagged rocks. Although the pool looked enticing I didn’t much fancy trying to negotiate the pointy edges, so, my enthusiasm dampened, I hastily turned tail and headed back to the shore.
After spending the night in a casa particular in nearby Caletón we made for Playa Girón to re-live the Cuban regime’s most treasured moment in it’s 60-year revolutionary history. The Bay of Pigs Museum (AKA Museo Girón) in casts a different light on a tense Cold War moment, one that narrowly skirted a global confrontation, to that portrayed at that time by the news medias of First World countries. The museum’s narrative recounting the Bay of Pigs incident describes a episode of national defence against US aggression and imperialism. The exhibits, the photos, letters, maps and diagrams are intended to celebrate the heroic efforts of Cubans, soldiers and civilians, in patriotically repelling the invasion of the homeland.
The surprisingly small museum (just two rooms) displays many black-and-white photos of the episode, various uniforms and medals, examples of the combat artillery, mortar guns and rifles used in the conflict, many of these weapons look like they’d have been considerably old even in 1961! Note: the taking of photos inside the BoP Museum is not permitted unless you pay a 1CUC fee up front at the entrance table.
Outside the museum entrance, there are a couple of props that add gravitas and dramatic colour to the museum’s “mission statement”. In pride of place, on display is a Hawker Sea Fury F-50 fighter plane (the type of British-manufactured aircraft purchased by Premier Castro and used by the Cuban forces in countering the invasion). To the right of the entrance are two Soviet era tanks, all weaponry associated with the 1961 event.
The work put into Museo Girón demonstrates how seriously the government took the incident – and still do! The minutely detailed story of how the Cuban government and people foiled a bungled American attempt to invade Cuba makes an unambiguous point about national memory…unencumbered by subtlety: both the citizens of Cuba and the outside world dare not forget La Victoria! and the country’s no pasarán resolve when it comes to repelling outside invaders. The museum revels in reminding visitors of a nadir reaching low point in US policy towards Cuba from the not-so-distant past which brought international disapproval and opprobrium down on the Kennedy administration and the CIA.
PostScript: Australia, Cuba On the way to visit Museo Playa Girón we didn’t expect to pass a sign on the road saying ‘Australia’ but that is the name of the tiny hamlet and consejo popular (People’s Council) near the Bay of Pigs Museum. The Cuban aldea Australia has no tangible connection to Australia in the Southern Hemisphere, but was named for its relationship with the original sugar factory located there (the practice at that colonial time was to name the locomotives hauling the sugar to market after the continents of the world, hence ‘Australia’). During the 1961 invasion by the US-backed rebels, Comandante en jefe Castro based his defence headquarters in the old ‘Central Australia’ sugar mill.
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✱ the other being in the cove named after 17th century French pirate Gilberto Girón, Playa Girón, 35km further south
❂ in the bay there’s a 300m long coral wall a short swim away from the shoreline
♉ a deep, natural well or sinkhole formed by surface limestone rock caving in and exposing ground water
Green and Rustic Viñales: Tobacco Farms, Mogotes and Casa Particulares
The road from Havana to Viñales is 180km of often grinding, bumpy and gravelly surfaces. We reached Cuba’s far-western province (Pinar del Río) and closed in on Valle de Viñales, a destination well worth the three to four-hour haul. The 11km long Viñales valley is situated in remote countryside but the whole valley has a “postcard pretty” Arcadian look to it, a veritable, verdant green-belt of agrarian plenitude. Everything is lush and green, everywhere, acres and acres of tobacco fields stretching back to the mountains.
The built-up area of Viñales isn’t very “built-up” as townships go. In fact Viñales probably qualifies as no more than pueblo (village) size, it is really an aldea (hamlet) and a laid back, low-key one at that. We drove up and down the main drag, Salvador Cisneros, to get a feel of the place…sleepy and slow-paced even here. A few cars and trucks around, but mainly they were sharing the road with oxen and horses pulling carts. Small and off the pace it may be but there’s a good scattering of restaurants and bars (both alcoholic ones and Tapas ones), sufficient variety to satisfy hungry visitors. One store I spotted on Salvador, breaking a continuous line of eateries, was doing a roaring trade – it was, naturally enough, the pueblo’s rum and cigar shop!
Viñales is devoid of hotels (nearest: Pinar del Río) but tourist accommodation is amply catered for through casas particulares (private guesthouses), which there are in droves. Every street in the village had its fill of brightly painted colonial wooden houses which functioned as homestays. We stayed in a very compact casa two blocks back from the village centre, it was tucked in among a row of about ten or so casas all side-by-side. From the front the houses looked cutely quaint, or quaintly cute (take your pick!), with their colourful walls and sillóns (rocking chairs) on the porches. We had a friendly pair of hosts, guajiros – as rural folk are commonly called in Cuba. . Desayunos were right up to expectations, omelette of choice, porridge with exotic fruits, tea or coffee (breakfasts in the casas all over Cuba were uniformly similarly) [see PostScript on Cuban casas].
Outside of the village the landscape is dotted with distinctive geographical features called mogotes (craggy limestone monoliths, many the size of massive boulders), which provide a fitting, ambient backdrop to the flourishing green fields covered with tobacco farms. We visited one nearby farm and did a tour on foot round the fields (another popular option for tourists in Viñales is to tour the tobacco farms on horseback)…we were taken (in meticulous detail) through the process involved in making the distinctive cylinders of rolled tobacco Cuba is famous for. Although tobacco and cigar production is the name of the game here, the plantation also engages in diversified (secondary) farming, other crops (sweet potato, beans, corn, etc) were being grown on any soil that was not already taken up with tobacco plants.
We were in the drying hut being shown by the carga de mano how to smoke a cigar Cuban-style when something humorous but also quite poignant occurred. Roaming purposelessly all over the tobaco granja were these countless, mangy dogs, one of them lumbered slowly into the hut in the middle of the cigar demonstration and lay down on the floor. Unexpectedly, to my surprise the old dog started wheezing, laboriously, continuously and heavily…the tobacco farm dog, it seemed, by dint of its constant exposure to the harmful weed, had become a victim of passive smoking!
PostScript: Casa particulares Several years ago, as part of their liberalisation initiatives, the Cuban regime gave a nod to the existence of small-scale private enterprise and specifically to permit home-owners to let out their rooms to visitors. In Viñales as elsewhere in the country this opportunity has been taken up with gusto! The bulk of the hosts seem to be older Cuban women (often the casas have names like Mirtha, Isabelita and Elisa), many of them are easily of retirement age※. This concession by the government seems to have been of double benefit to many – providing a bit of extra income to supplement their modest pensions, and at the same time there’s the social dimension of older folks making contacts…from the comfort of their own porches they are meeting the world! One host proudly showed me the various gifts she had received from guests from across the globe (and of course among them was the clichéd furry toy koala!)
From staying at quite a few casas in different parts of the island, what was crystal clear was the variance in quality between guesthouses (just like with hotels!). Quite a lot (in Havana especially) were very poky and some were offering the most basic of “no-frills” facilities. Others were roomy, well-serviced and welcoming (the host’s command of English helped with this). Generally the (front) ante-rooms were quite extravagantly arranged and decorated. Unfortunately, something that did not vary much was the water pressure, in many casas it amounted to no more than a pitiful trickle, a reminder in the plumbing if we needed it that Third World conditions were still the norm here, especially when it came to the basics!
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※ another observable pattern are homestays or casas run by mother-and-daughter teams
John Wanamaker, Evangelical Retailer and Innovator
Wanamaker’s department stores were an innovative 19th century prototype of American retail enterprise best remembered today for the drive and vigour of its founder in establishing the company regionally on the Atlantic Seaboard. John Wanamaker’s humble origins in the retail trade began with the small menswear store known as “Oak Hall” (Philadelphia) he started up in partnership with his brother-in-law in the early days of the American Civil War.
From the get-go Wanamaker exhibited a flair for innovation, demonstrating an aptitude for thinking outside the box in retailing. Wanamaker introduced concepts in his business that were quite radical in retailing of the day. One of the earliest, which seems self-evident to us today, was to establish the principle of price-setting. Before Wanamaker started putting price tags on his goods, the practice in shops was that the price of an item would be determined by haggling between the customer of the salesperson. Wanamaker, as a devout Christian imbued with the Protestant work ethic, espoused the principle of price equality…as he liked to say (repeatedly), “if everyone was equal before God, then everyone should be equal before price”✱[1]. Wanamaker also allowed customers the option of returning the goods (within a specified time period) and receiving a refund, a practice that was unusual in retailing at that time.
Truth (and volume) in advertising From the time he was a teenager Wanamaker developed an appreciation of the value of publicity. One of his early publicity stunts for the store was to release 20 foot balloons and reward those who retrieved them with a free suit from Wanamaker’s. From as early as the 1860s the Philadelphia merchant relied on advertising to propel his business forward. Wanamaker took out large size ads in newspapers, which proved expensive, but nonetheless generated a large volume of sales. During the War between the States the store was kept afloat by being able to supply Union Army officers’ uniforms to the Northern side. By 1909 the retailer was placing ads daily in the press. Wanamaker assiduously built consumer trust…when he placed retail ads offering low prices for wares, he kept his word to the public[2].
Wanamaker usually didn’t miss a business opportunity when it came along. In 1876 he purchased Pennsylvania Railroad property and turned it into what would become Wanamaker’s flagship store, named the Grand Depot. Located on the corner of 13th and Market Streets, Philadelphia, Wanamaker promoted it as a “New Kind of Store”, adding women’s clothing and dry goods to the existence outlet for menswear, arguably making it one of if not the world’s first department store. The original building (architect: Daniel Burnham) boosted an exotic Moorish-style facade, the building that he erected much later on the same site had a classic Florentine facade.
Other Wanamaker retail innovations The Pennsylvanian merchant was ahead of the curve in many ways, pioneering marketing strategies as well as being an early proponent of advertising. Other firsts for the Wanamaker stores included:
◗ the first department store to include a restaurant inside its complex ◗ the first department store with electrical illumination ◗ the first department store to have telephone communications ◗ the first department store to use pneumatic tube transit (to internally move cash and documents around the store) ◗ the first department store to have an elevator ◗ the first department store to have a wireless station ◗ the first department store to engage buyers to travel to Europe to acquire the latest fashions[3]
Wanamaker also pioneered a series of individual benefits for his staff members – free medical care, profit-sharing, pensions (all ahead of his competitors). Wanamaker implemented measures for staff training that were in advance of their time…establishing an in-house college, the Wanamaker Commercial Institute, providing his workers with skills and tuition in bookkeeping, finance, English and maths◘. He also initiated summer camps for young men and women on the payroll – in keeping with Wanamaker’s characteristic intertwining of religion and business, this was to equip them with moral instruction and development[4].
Wanamaker’s continued to grow into a small chain of stores…by the early 20th century Wanamaker had 16 department stores operating, mainly regionally, but the network included a showcase store in New York City (1896), between East 9th and 10th streets (in the ‘NoHo’ neighbourhood of Manhattan). Later Wanamaker built a second building opposite and connected them via an overhead walkway he called the “Bridge of Progress”.
Grand Depot mega-store
Wanamaker’s most ambitious store project was a massive transformation of the Philly retail store in 1910. The store was radically re-shaped in the form of a wheel with a 90 foot circular counter and 129 smaller sales counters installed in concentric circles. Wanamaker claimed that he had created “the largest space devoted to retail selling on a single floor”[5]. And, to give his new City Center flagship store a touch of imperial grandeur, the store contained a “Grand Court”, to which he added a Grand Court organ and a large bronze eagle⊙ (both of which had featured in the 1904 St Louis World’s Fair).
Wanamaker died in 1922 and his successor (his second son) in 1928, but the business continue to thrive and expand until the 1960s and 1970s. Increasingly though Wanamaker as a regional player wasn’t able to match it with national retail chains. Even in Philadelphia it was losing its market share to Bloomingdale’s and Macy’s. In 1978 Wanamaker’s was sold to California’s Carter Hawley Hale Stores, which tried to revive its fortunes but failed. Still trading as Wanamaker’s, it was then on-sold to Alfred Taubman’s Woodward and Lothrop. Under Woodward and Lothrop it again declined, then downsized to five stores, and eventually went into bankruptcy. In 1995 they were further sold to retail giant Macy’s, bringing to a close 133 years of Wanamaker’s retail history[7]. Despite the sense of inevitability, for many Philadelphians, the end of Wanamaker’s was a heartfelt moment, the loss of “a unique public institution and a powerful symbol of Philadelphia’s commercial viability”[8].
PostScript: Wanamaker’s diversified interests Wanamaker at one point founded a bank (First Penny Savings Bank) to encourage Americans to embrace thrift. He also established a trades school in Elwyn, Pa. Between his business activities Wanamaker found time for a (four-year) stint as a civil servant…President Benjamin Harrison appointed him Postmaster-General in 1889. Wanamaker initiated some reforms (eg, brought in parcel post, erected a pneumatic tube system to US post offices), but his term was not without controversy (mass sacking of 30,000 postal workers, accusations of having ‘purchased’ the post of PMG).
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✱ Wanamaker conceivably got the idea of fixed prices from the English Quakers, “fixed prices made everyone equal in the eyes of God”, Mary Pilon, The Monopolists, (2015). As befits someone with a bent for religious proselytising, Wanamaker had quite a penchant for pet mottos and maxims in business ◘ not as altruistic as it first sounds, there was a strong element of self-interest on Wanamaker’s part, the business ‘titan’ had an abhorrence of the labour movement and his generosity was insurance against the prospect of his workforce ever becoming unionised (Hingson) ⊙ Wanamaker’s Eagle became such an institution that Philadelphians would conveniently use it as a meet-up point when coming to the city (‘Wanamaker Organ’)
Source: Smithsonian (Postal Museum)
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[1] ‘John Wanamaker, Innovator’, (Who Made America?), www.pbs.org [2] ‘Wanamaker, John, (1838-1922), Ad Age, 15-Sep-2003, www.adage.com [3] ‘Wanamaker’s’, Wikipedia, http://en.m.wikipedia.org; ‘Facts and Figures about the Wanamaker Organ’, www.wanamakerorgan.com [4] ‘Thirteen Things You Might Not Know About John Wanamaker’, (Sandy Hingson), Philadelphia Magazine, 11-Jul-2016, www.phillymag.com [5] ‘John Wanamaker A retailing innovator’, The Philly Inquirer, 22-June-1995, (Andrew Maykuth Online), www.maykuth.com; ‘Who Made America?’, loc.cit. [6] ‘John Wanamaker’, Wikipedia, http://en.m.wikipedia.org [7] ‘Wanamaker’s’, Wikipedia, op.cit. [8] Sarah Malino, review of Herbert Ershkowitz’s John Wanamaker: Philadelphia Merchant, (Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography, Vol.125, No 1/2, Jan-Apr 2001)
50 Shades of Havana: Centro, Prado, Capitolio, Vedado, Hemingway’s Haunt, Classic American Autos and the Malecón
Somewhere around the western end of thriving Bishop Street (Obispo) in Havana, Habana Vieja merges into Habana Centro. With Centro being within close walking distance of the Old Town, its firmly entrenched on the Havana tourist route. There’s history – Capitolio and the Museum of the Revolution, and diversity – El Barrio Chino (Chinatown), the grimy, rubbish-strewn back streets and the upmarket five-star hotels and museums. Architecturally, the buildings in Centro are a mix of the old and the new (or newer)✱. Many survive from the colonial past, including some elegant classical examples of Cuban Baroque, together with those erected during the post-Soviet era.
Paseo de Prado, the city’s main boulevard, is a good place to start exploring Centro. Down one end is the solemn and imposing Capitolio Nacional building, Cuba’s most significant political symbol which formerly housed the national capital seat of government. When we visited the building was closed for renovations, it’s famous replica “White House” dome was receiving a facelift. El Gran Teatro next door is an equally impressive vintage building. North along Prado is where all of the big international hotels are located, overlooking a verdant leafy refuge, Parque Central, a city park which is a bit short on grass but nonetheless is a good spot to chill out away from the buzz and high activity of Old Havana’s Obispo.
Prado is also where you’ll find amble evidence of something else Havana is famous for these days, its classic old American cars. Carefully restored, spotless and immaculately maintained Chevs and Dodges (pink seems the preferred colour but blue is well represented too) line up in the parking lanes next to Parque Central. Stand anywhere along Prado during the day and you’ll be able to observe a constant parade of (mainly open-top) autos zooming up and down the boulevard (many of the classic cars are available for hire to chauffeur sightseers around Havana).
If you venture from Parque Central over the Prado to the western side streets, you’ll find a very different side of Habana Centro. The grand, showcase buildings of Paseo del Prado give way to lots of decrepit old structures that look decidedly the worst for wear, many are the crumbling casas of the city’s poor. The neigbourhood here take on a much more grimy and squalid appearance, characterised by dirty, rubbish-strewn footpaths, broken sewerage, potholes, markets bustling with people, noisy street vendors, numerous roaming stray dogs and the rotting remains of food. Sanitation appears a low priority in this rundown part of Centro. Just a short distance away is Chinatown, its entrance marked by an impressive pagoda-style gate but the neighbourhood, ironically, is populated by very few residents of Chinese ancestry!
A leisurely drive along the Malecón is another “must-do” when in Havana…the route west out of the city towards Pinar del Rio will usually take you via the Malecón. The Malecón (or Avenida del Maceo) snakes its way for some seven kilometres along the city seafront, bordered by a long seawall to protect the coast and city against the often wildly crashing waves. Local convention attests that the ideal way to do the Malecón drive is in a hired classic American convertible in the afternoon…the sight of these glistening Chevys, Buicks and Cadillacs on the wide coastal stretch of road against a backdrop of the setting sun of themselves earn a place in the highlight reel of Havana’s special features, as are the views afforded of Havana’s impressive harbour (Bahia de la Habana).
The long promenade’s other attractions include the historically and strategically important Castle Morro and views across the bay to the historic San Carlos de la Cabaña fortifications on the eastern peninsula (Habana del este). Dotted all along the foreshore are bunches of fishermen trying to land a catch with their lines and nets – usually with a botella de ron (rum bottle) close at hand. When the Malecón reaches the district of Vedado you’ll likely catch sight of the odd, remaining architectural ‘eyesore’ – ugly, monolithic apartment buildings, leftover examples of the brutalist Soviet architecture that imprinted themselves on the Havana landscape from the 1960s to the 90s. The most notorious of these Malecón monstrosities is the high-rise Edificio Girón, dubbed by many Habaneros “the ugliest building in Cuba”!
Fort of St Charles (La Cabaña) Habana del este ▽
While you are in the vicinity of the Malecón, you might be curious to find out more about the sugar cane-based alcoholic beverage that Cubans are obsessed with, a visit to the Club Rum Museum (Museo del Ron) would fill in a lot of the background for you. You can find the Rum Museum on Avenida del Puerto (south of the Malecón and past the Cruise Ferry Terminal).
Footnote: Hemingway drank here…maybe? I was intrigued to notice that there are quite a few drinking establishments in Havana (and elsewhere on the island) purporting to have been the “watering hole” of American writer Ernest Hemingway. I observed that El Floridita Bar in Monserrate Street has Hemingway’s signature and countenance as well as the inscription “Hemingway Drank Here!” plastered all over its walls⊡. It is well documented that Hemingway was a prodigious drinker of daiquiris and mojitos (amongst other things) and that Havana’s Floridita was his preferred Cuban abode when it came to downing copious amounts of its trademark daiquiri. I was kind of half-hoping though to find at least one Havana bar using a left-field marketing strategy that proclaimed loudly “Hemingway Never Drank Here!”
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✱ like the Art Deco Moderna Poesia building and the modern Parque Central Hotel which are within a three-iron of each other…though most of the Beaux-Arts, Art Noveau and Art Deco architecture is located in nearby Vedado
⊡ features imitated by the state-run Floridita Bar in Trinidad (Western Cuba)
La Habana Vieja and Bishop Street: Old Havana Inside Out!
From our landing point in Havana, we made straight for our casa in the city. Tiny room (especially for two!), all round minimalism, minimal Inglés spoken by the staff, but it was right in the heart of La Habana Vieja, the old city. Two cross-streets (most of the ‘streets’ are hardly more than lane width!) away from our guesthouse is Calle Obispo (Bishop Street), a cobblestone pedestrian thoroughfare that runs through the heart of Old Havana – we made for this place pretty much as soon as we settled our belongings in the room.
Obispo connects Parque Central (near Havana’s main street Paseo de Martí, AKA Paseo del Prado) at one end with Plaza de Armas and the waterfront at the other. A big chunk of the activity, the vibe, happens on or around this street. A real assortment of shops, giftwares and numerous eateries to choose from. There are cafés and several banks/ATMs for your dinero necessities on Obispo. Obispo is the easiest spot to pick up a bargain souvenir or memento, the “el cheapo” place to buy artesano regalo items is the small undercover handicrafts market half-way up Obispo. 
To get an appreciation of the authentic cuisine of the working class, what the average Habanero eats, Varíedades Obispo (Obispo Varieties shop) is the place to visit…come here to experience eating like the assembled masses do on a permanently limited budget – simple but fresh, basic, no-frills comida and dirt cheap! Just a few shops down from Varíedades is one Obispo’s two farmacias, Drogueria Johnson. Everything about the Johnson Drugstore looks historic, from the name sombrely and impressively engraved on the stone facade outside to the types of pharmacy lines inside. It seems like a relic from 1950s La Habana that somehow survived the Revolution! The shop tends to resemble a museum in some ways – and yet it still operates daily as a pharmacy service. A novel experience for anyone who can’t remember the pharmacies of the fifties.
Obispo Street’s not a great place to hover round in if you are ochlophobic✱ – in this busy thoroughfare crowd mingling is more or less unavoidable! Busy it may be but bustling it is not! People tend to stroll up and down Obispo at a very relaxed pace, taking in the sights, sounds and smells. Obispo is certainly an odoriferous experience…the smell of fresh churros being made by vendors is a lingering olfactory delight, the ubiquitous presence of stray dogs in the street and their random “calling card” deposits however is a more malodorous experience.
On our last day in Havana there was a colourful street carnival happening right along Obispo – performers on stilts wearing vivid, silky garments and flowing robes were winding their way in a slow procession down the narrow thoroughfare as the crowds swelled around them, dancing, constant pulsating musical rhythms, everything seemed quite spontaneous and of course the locals were right into it!
Keep heading east on Calle Obispo, past the Cuban band with its musicians all decked out in white, and you’ll reach the tree-lined Plaza de Armas, an ideal spot to get away from the full-on tourist overload of Obispo. With seating all around the square it’s easy to find a calm, quiet spot shaded by large trees overhead and be surrounded by the presence of nice greenery. After you’ve rested a bit, there’s history on all sides of the plaza to see – as you enter the plaza you pass a elegant white, mansion-like building, Casa de Gobnierno y Palacio de Municipal. Capitanes Generales Palace, as it is also known, is now a museum with a grand courtyard, but at the time of the Spanish-American War (1898) this was the American Government’s administrative headquarters for the four years the US was in control of the island of Cuba. You can pick up a souvenir “Revolutionary green” military cap with obligatory red star from the hawkers constantly circling round the square – it will cost you 2-3 CUC more if you want one with the iconic image of “El Che” (Guevara) as well!.
To the immediate north of Plaza de Armas is Havana’s historic colonial bastion fort, the Castillo de la Real Fuerza (lit. “Castle of Royal Force”) complete with watchtower, moat and thick limestone walls…the fortress was built to defend against unwelcome 16th century privateers and buccaneers. Its location looks strategically sound to me, looking straight down the bay towards the open sea, but I read somewhere, in the ‘Rough Planet’ guide I think it was, that the powers-that-be in colonial times weren’t all that thrilled about where it was located (it should have been right on the water’s edge apparently) and this led to the Castillo being decommissioned earlier than intended. Since it’s military function ceased, it has been variously used as for archives and conservation, as a library, and is now the National Maritime Museum. Interestingly, the info sign on the fort entrance gate near the rusty old cannons is in two languages – Spanish and Braille!
If you hang round the Plaza long enough you are better than an “even money” bet to meet, without any effort on your part, young local women keen to make your acquaintance…they are very friendly and if you converse with them for any amount of time, you’ll discover that a surprising number of them, by coincidence, are professional dancers currently in a hiatus period work-wise. Their sociability and amiability will often extend to an abiding interest in knowing the location of your casa! Prudence and a cautionary approach is strongly recommended to visiting single tourists.
If you have managed to escape the attentions of the convivial ladies doing their utmost to supplement their meagre monthly wages, take a right at Plaza de Armas and head down Oficios, you’ll soon be at San Francisco Plaza, a large, open square bereft of shade facing the Cruise Ship Terminal (Terminal Sierra Maestra). As you enter the plaza the first item of interest immediately to your left is a modernist sculpture directly in front of the formidable looking Lonja del Comercio commercial building. This relatively recently added (2012) French-created, bronze sculpture (aptly named ‘In Conversation’) catches the eye of most visitors. I like the way the piece plays with the space of the two figures, leaving your imagination to fill in the gaps – both the physical gaps of space and what the two engrossed in dialogue might be conversing about…its an intriguing and compelling piece of public art!
Also, worthy of a peek on the opposite side of the Plaza, astride the archaic Convento de la San Francisco, is a much older, representational sculpture, a statue of the celebrated and loveable Havana vagrant ‘Cabellero de Paris’. Visitors line up here for the chance to take a ‘selfie’ with an arm round the bronze shoulder of one of the “favourite sons” of old Havana. Pedestrians tend to slowly circle around the square, taking in the sights, the buildings, the sculptures and statues, the famous fountain, the busy ferry terminal. Never far away from the wandering tourists are the souvenir hawkers, especially visible here are the ambling cigar-sellers peddling the trademark product synonymous with everything Cuban. From San Francisco Plaza head west for a sight of Plaza Vieja with its central fountain and colourful collection of arched colonial buildings in pastel blues and yellows. From here, take any street to the right and you’ll end up you back in Obispo and tourism central.
Obispo – looking toward Plaza de Armas ◮
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✱ someone with an extreme fear or dislike of crowds
Wall’s End: The Great Wall, Laolongtou, Hushan/Bakjak and the Goguryeo Question
The “Long Wall” – the world’s most famous, most myth-engendering bulwark
China’s most distinctive and enduring icon is the Great Wall of China, it is of course also sui generis as the world’s Great Wall. The Wall, Chángchéng 長城 – or as sometimes described Wan-li Ch’ang-ch’eng 萬里長城 (10,000-mile Long Wall✱), is incontrovertibly one of the wonders of both the ancient and modern worlds. Starting in the west in Gansu Province at Jiayuguan Pass, the wall(s) meander east over mountains and through passes to they reach the sea in the country’s east (a journey of over 21 thousand km). The oldest sections of the Wall date from the Warring States era (circa 214 BCE). 
Laolongtou ⍗
Shanhaiguan and ‘Old Dragon’s Head’
If we follow the extravagating course of the wall east from the Badaling section (near Beijing) for about 300 kilometres, we’ll come to Shanhaiguan (literally “mountain – sea – pass”) in Liaoning Province, one of the Great Wall’s major passes (acclaimed as “the first pass under Heaven”). This section continues to Laolongtou (‘Old Dragon’s Head‘⊟), where the wall enters the sea (Gulf of Bohai) and spectacularly and abruptly terminates! The wall at Shanhaiguan and Laolongtou snaking as it does between mountains on one side and water on the other, has been strategically important to the Chinese Empire eastern defences since the 1600s.
Hushan Great Wall
The setting that greets visitors to Laolongtou Wall end-point (Estuary Stone) looks like a most appropriate setting for the eastern terminus of the Great Wall. The reality is however that the Great Wall/s are not a continuous linear structure, they are actually characterised by numerous gaps in the sections…and where the ‘Old Dragon’s Head’ ceases at the sea is one more break in the line, albeit a dramatically evocative one! Before 1989 the conventional wisdom was that Laolongtou was the most easterly point in the Walls, but in that year Chinese archaeologists excavated 600m of a hitherto undiscovered section of the Great Wall 540km east of Laolongtou. The Hushan Wall (extending over a mountain, Hushan or Tiger Mountain) lies just north of China’s eastern border city, Dandong (which eyeballs North Korea just across the Yalu River). In 2009 the Chinese government, based on Chinese Academy of Social Sciences (CASS) research, recognised the wall as the most eastern point of the Great Wall (and ie, the end-point). Beijing’s classifying of the wall (so close to the Korean border) as Chinese contradicted the North Korean view that the wall was originally Korean (the Bakjak Fortress) and provoked a hostile North Korean reaction. [‘Hushan Great Wall’, Wikipedia, http://en.m.wikipedia.org]
PostScript: Dandong discovery reignites the Goguryeo controversy The Dandong wall conflict reignited the controversy over the Goguryeo Kingdom that previously had inflamed tensions between the two countries. Background: the historic Goguryeo Kingdom (1st century BC to 7th century AD) encompassed an area comprising all but the tip of the Korean peninsula and a portion of both Russian and Chinese Manchuria. Both Koreas view the historic Goguryeo Kingdom as having been the ‘proto-Korea’ state. The Chinese perspective (which the Koreas label as revisionism) is that Goguryeo was only ever a vassal state of the ‘Middle Kingdom’, moreover one occupied largely by Tungusic people, an ethnic minority of China. The wall kerfuffle fed into this controversy, stirring up feelings of nationalism on both sides, the fallout being that Sino-Korean relations took a nosedive. Mutual distrust lingers over the matter…fears of irredentist claims on each other’s territory, and for PRC the perennial bogeyman of the spectre of Korean reunification. [‘Goguryeo controversies’, Wikipedia, http://en.m.wikipedia.org]
(Source: Man, ‘The Great Wall)
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✱ chéng in Chinese can also mean city or city wall…or more aptly to describe China’s wonder building – walls in the plural, John Man, The Great Wall (2009)
⊟ so-called because the structure’s end part (above the sea) is thought to resemble a dragon (long) resting its head (tou) on the ground
❂ the Chinese media going so far as to tag the kingdom as ‘China’s Goguryeo’ (Zhongguo Gaogouli) [Korea and China’s Clashing Histories’, (Yong Kwon), The Diplomat, 11-Jul-2014, www.thediplomat.com]
Rugby à quinze: The Vichy French Regime’s Game of Choice
Vichy emphasis on youth sport (Coll: Mémorial de la Shoah/CDJC)
⇑ Pro rugby
The Nazi-installed, collaborationist Vichy ‘puppet’ regime assumed power in France in 1940—jettisoning the liberté, égalité et fraternité of the democrats and socialists —and adopting in its place the new national motto of travail, famille et patrie (“work, family and fatherland”) as the official philosophy. The new government was quick to focus on sport as a platform for implementing its policies and goals. Taking a leaf from the Corporative State approach of fascist Italy (Carta della sport), Vichy envisaged sport and PhysEd as integral to the “moral education” of the French, an “instrument for constraining and indoctrinating the population in general and youth in particular”. A good illustration of its importance can be seen in the regime’s dissemination of propaganda posters extolling the virtues of physical education (from the start Vichy law made it compulsory for schoolchildren to complete seven hours of PhysEd a week)[1].
The Rugby Wars The Vichy regime had been in existence for only a matter of months when it banned the sport of rugby league, in France known as rugby à treize, (at the same time taking no action against the amateur rugby code, rugby à quinze). The Vichy French minister for sport, family and youth announced in August 1940 that because rugby league was (according to the government) a ‘corruptor’ of French youth, it would (in his words) simply be “deleted from French sport”. The Vichy regime justified this action by claiming that it wanted to bring an end to professional sport in France, which the regime argued had a deleterious effect on French society and morale, dubiously linking the professionalism of sport to the pathetically feeble and dispirited French military showing in face of the onslaught of the German Nazi war machine. Marshal Pétain and the Vichy leadership associated rugby league with its large working class following in the south with the pre-war Popular Front Socialist government of Leon Blum[2].
Vichy also made efforts to curb professionalism in some other sports, eg, tennis and wrestling were restored to strictly amateur status. The uncompromisingly draconian approach taken to semi-professional rugby league✱ by Vichy however contrasts with its more restrained intervention in the fully professional sports of association football, boxing and cycling (see PostScript for the treatment of football)[3].
f=”http://www.7dayadventurer.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/image-1.jpg”> FFR: Haut coq[/capt
From two rugby codes one … In December 1940 Vichy chief of state Pétain decreed that rugby à treize would ‘merge’ with rugby à quinze (the fifteen man-a-side rugby union game). In effect, rather than a merger, the thirteen man code of rugby ceased to exist, its funds (around 900,000 francs), its players, its stadiums, even its playing gear, were all expropriated and given to the Fédération Française de Rugby (FFR). This benevolence in favour of French rugby union was not simply the happenstance of good luck on the FFR’s part. The FFR had been at efforts to establish a cosy relationship with the Vichy regime from its inception and had actively lobbied for the elimination of its rival rugby code. This was facilitated by the regime’s choices of commissioner of sport, men with active links to the FFR: Jean Borotra, a former Wimbledon tennis champion who had extensive connexions with the French rugby establishment, and Colonel Joseph Pascot, a prominent rugby international for France in the 1920s[4]. Before I address why the FFR was hellbent on taking down the French Rugby League, I will outline some background relating to the two codes in the period leading up to the war.
http://www.7dayadventurer.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/image-2.jpg”> Jeu de Treize[/caption
Varying fortunes of the two rugby codes Attempts to kick-start rugby à treize as early as 1921-22 with a planned rugby league exhibition match in Paris between the touring Australian Kangaroos and Great Britain’s Lions was vetoed by the influential FFR. In the early 1930s the established sport of rugby à quinze in France experienced a setback at international level. Because of the French national team’s tendency towards violent play and the widely held perception that the FFR was making secret payments to its (amateur) players, France was kicked out of the Five Nations tournament (with the British home countries and Ireland) in 1931. The ostracised FFR responded by setting up its own European competition outside of the IRFB (world rugby board) comprising rugby lesser lights-cum-minnows like Italy, Czechoslovakia and Germany. Rugby à quinze was on the back foot. In 1932 the FFR banned a union international player named Jean Galia who was suspected (albeit with fairly sketchy evidence) of being covertly a professional⊡…Galia went on start up the breakaway code of rugby league in the south-west of France✧, initially called néo rugby by the French. By season 1934-35 there was a 14-team semi-pro domestic comp underway[5].
Through the thirties French rugby league made progress culminating in victory in the European championship in 1938-39 (on route defeating both England and Wales). Rugby à treize’s crowds were growing, it was a hit with many French spectators⊛ who were drawn to its more open, free-flowing and swashbuckling style of game, which seemed to match the French temperament better than the somewhat stop-start rugby union game. In 1939 three of the top rugby union clubs in the country defected to rugby à treize…the FFR were fully aware of the threat posed to its sport by rugby league. At this point the Vichy regime intervened dramatically to salvage rugby à quinze’s and the FFR’s traditional advantage[6].
The game that dare not speak its name! Eventually, in late 1944, the ban on the Ligue de rugby à treize (French Rugby League) was lifted but three years later the code was split into two bodies: the Fédération française de jeu à treize (governing the amateur RL game) and a Ligue de rugby à XIII (governing the semi-professional game)[7]. Although the sport of rugby league was once again allowed to be played, the League bodies were barred from using the word ‘rugby’ to describe the code, having instead to refer to it as Jeu à Treize (Game of Thirteen). This prohibition lasted remarkably until 1991!
World champions: rise and decline Since its reinstatement rugby league has struggled to establish a foothold in France – despite experiencing some stellar moments in the early to mid 1950s, especially under the leadership of France’s most famous rugby XIII player, the mercurial, cigarette-smoking (during matches!!!) Puig-Aubert[8], Les Chanticleers defeated the powerful Australian side in three consecutive test series. By 1952 having won the European Championships twice and beaten Australia, France could justifiably claim to be unofficial world champs. Despite France’s rugby XIII game reaching this peak rugby à quinze and FFR remains the hegemonic rugby code and body in France, and have by far the lion’s share of coverage in the French media. Today, international results suggest the sport is still in the doldrums, however the rise of the (sole) French club side Catalans Dragons in the English Super League competition, culminating in victory in the 2018 Challenge Cup, (analogous to English football’s FA Cup) is a bright glimmer on the rugby league horizon in France.
PostScript: Vichy’s take on the ‘World Game’ Football (soccer) did not get off entirely unscathed from the pervasive tentacles of the Vichy regime. It was allowed to keep its professional status but it suffered significant modifications. Vichy restructured the French football competition to eliminate or discourage the development of “local derby” rivalries (matches between clubs in the same or neighbouring towns). Professional players were made to take up a second trade and teams were compelled to field four amateur players in games. Matches were reduced from 90 to 80 minutes duration. After the eclipse of Vichy in 1944 things reverted to the old system but the upheaval suffered over the previous four years left French football in a state of flux and chaos for a number of years post-war[9].
Footnote: To this day the FFR (French Rugby) has neither issued an apology to Fédération française de jeu à treize for its role in what happened, nor moved to recompense rugby à treize (French Rugby League) for lost finances and the expropriation of its property and equipment over three-quarters of a century ago.
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✱ badminton was also outlawed but in its case because it was deemed by the authorities to be “un-French”!
⊡ FFR’s banning of Galia was intended to show the British rugby authorities that it was serious about cleaning up France’s ‘shamateurism’ [Lichfield]
✧ the south-west was and remains the heartland of rugby à treize – all of the clubs in France’s Elite One competition except one are located there, the exception Avignon is in the south-central/south-east region
⊛ followers and fans of rugby à treize were called treizistes
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[1] Christophe Pécout, Le sport dans la France du gouvernement de Vichy (1940-1944)’, www.hssh.journals.yorku.co; ‘Travail, Famille, Patrie … and Sport’, (Mémorial de la Shaoh Musée), www.sportmemorialdelashaoh.org [2] Vichy also associated it with Free French leader Charles De Gaulle and naturally enough with the United Kingdom, ‘Badge of dishonour: French rugby’s shameful secret’ (John Lichfield), The Independent, 06-Sept-2007, www.independent.co.uk; ‘Rugby league in France’, Wikipedia, http://en.m.wiki.org [3] Lichfield, op.cit. [4] ‘When Vichy abolished rugby league’, (Mick O’Hare), The New European, 21-Nov-2017, www.theneweuropean.co.uk [5] Lichfield, op.cit. [6] ibid. [7] ‘gentlemen agreement of 10th July 1947’, quoted in ‘Rugby league in France’, op.cit. [8] the French leadership off the field was provided by Paul Barriere, postwar president of Jeu à Treize who guided French rugby league through the turbulent period and laid the groundwork for the inaugural Rugby League World Cup in France in 1954, ‘Why this trophy for winning the World Cup?’, (Steve Waddingham), Courier and Mail (Qld), 15-Jun-2008, www.couriermail.com.au [9] ‘Inside History: How Vichy Changed French Football’, (David Gold), Inside Futbol, 06-Feb-2011, www.insidefutbol.com