The Freedom Flood

When Fidel Castro started promoting an airlift to evacuate Cubans to Miami last October, Washington figured that as many as 75,000 refugees might take him up on it. Fidel talked in terms of 100,000, then later 150,000. Both sides underestimated the Cubans' desire to flee the bleak little Communist isle. Last week Deputy Assistant Secretary of State Robert M. Sayre told Congress that Cuban refugees in the U.S. have applied for the evacuation of no fewer than 900,000 relatives--fully one-seventh of Cuba's population.

Since the twice-a-day flights began between Miami and Cuba's Varadero last December, more than 14,000 refugees have left, running the total number of Cuban refugees in the U.S. to 270,000. In some cases, Castro tried to smuggle in agents; he even tried to export a few lepers on the sly. But immigration screening has been tight, and few ringers have slipped past interrogators. Some 30% of the refugees have remained in South Florida, and other concentrations are around New York, Chicago, Los Angeles and New Orleans. The rest are scattered over the 50 states.

"Everyone in Cuba is bitter," said one young mother from Camaguey, who arrived in Miami last week. "There isn't much food, rice is rationed, and you have to stand in line every day for coffee. Cuba is a jail." Added her husband, a former railroad shop foreman: "They don't give you work if you are not with the government, and if you are with the government, you have to cut sugar cane, join the militia and stand guard." Cubans who decide to leave lose everything. Those in nonessential jobs are summarily fired, and must sign over their cars, homes and savings. The only things they can take with them are a few personal belongings--and hope.

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