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).
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].
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!
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.
Pilon’s book starts with two very different Americans, one an out-of-work Eastern Seaboard “average Joe” wallowing in the depths of the Depression, the other a fairly nondescript, left-leaning economics professor at a Californian public university –– Charles Darrow, the individual identified as the putative inventor of Monopoly, and Ralph Anspach, the man who almost inadvertently exposed Darrow as the faux inventor of the game. The unemployed Darrow learned the game from friends during his enforced leisure time…then with the germ of an idea in his head, got other friends to provide artwork (especially political cartoonist FO Alexander) and a written set of rules. Darrow crafted a version⊚, copyrighted it and eventually sold “his” game of Monopoly (without acknowledging or recompensing the contributions of his friends) to games manufacturers Parker Brothers who mass-produced and distributed it – and the rest is blockbuster games sales history!✥
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! 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 with some modifications and an updated, aviation emphasis eventually morphed into a similar 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’
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.
↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼↼ ✱ 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