 of call. Far at the world then. Strange fascinating lands back in us. Did us rebel in their exotic splendor. Come with us as we head for Port of Call. Dawn over the Atlantic. Dawn gilding the indigo waters of the Gulf Stream. Touching the mast head with rosy light. There's the eastern horizon brightened. Dead ahead on our bow, a burning headland is rising majestically out of the glistening sea. Our steamer plows to the bombing Caribbean toward topical Cuba. Our beckoning Port of Call. We are steaming now to the narrow channel of a great porth-lined harbor, the grim moral castle and cabana fortress on the heights to our left. On our starboard bow lies the far-flung panorama of the capital of the pearl of the Antilles, Havana. From the deck we can see the ancient La Punta Fort. The curving sweep of the Malacan. That glorious drive skirting the ocean. While beyond stretches the expanse of flat-top houses, pink in the early sunlight, a lofty modern building in the golden dorm and massive bulk of the capital. Oh, if there are any leaves to be through the customs, everything I have will be much. And to think we're only 90 miles from Florida, I feel as though we'd cross the Atlantic. The place I water she first is Sloppy Joe's. And he came out of her village in Cuban style. Oh, these open cars are all right till one of these tropical rainstorms cut loose. Then watch out. I've been here before. You must like Havana. Hey, everyone does. It gets you somehow. Whickey, you've heard of Danzone Orchestra and Watson Play Highlight. Now that's a game for you. Modern as it is, gay, colorful Havana is truly an exotic city. A city of astonishing contrast. With the old world rubbing elbows with the new. Stroll along O'Reilly or Obispo streets. Narrow, crowded. The shops shaded by bright awnings. A motor along the majestic Prado are out along the Malacan to the fashionable Vedado district. And you will be conscious of a subtle welding of South and North America. An exciting, unforgettable and mixture of Rio de Janeiro and New York with a distinct flavor of Parisian sophistication. It was on Sunday, October 28th, 1492. A few days after he had sighted the first isle of the Antilles, that Christopher Columbus saw another shoreline. Take my grasp of Sebastian. What make you of Yonderland? I see a verdant shore, Excellency. I am certain it is no island. Last Sebastian. We have reached that land which Marco Polo found. It is Cipango, near the realm of the great Kubla Khan. In truth, I believe it is, Don Columbus. A rich land dark with forests. There is land and ice however dazed upon. Here shall we find spices, jades and gold beyond our richest dreams. Your Excellency, take the glass again. Unless my eyes betray me, there are moving figures on the shore. Men, they stretch out their arms to the ship. Some are kneeling in wonder. The sea is calm. Make ready the boats and have them manned. I go ashore to claim this land for our most gracious patrons, their majesties, verdant and Isabella. Christopher Columbus never realized his error. He died content in the belief that he had found the western passage to Asia. He named the country Wana, in honor of Prince Juan the son of Ferdinand. What he had really discovered was an island some 700 miles in length and called by the naked, peaceful and friendly inhabitants, Kuban Khan or Cuba. In the year 1511, Columbus' own son Diego Columbus ruled in Santo Domingo as governor of Hispaniola. To him he called one of his leaders, Diego Velasquez. Don Velasquez, we shall colonize this island of Wana. That duty I assigned to you. You do me great honor, Excellency. It is a venture after my own heart. What have I heard of this Kuban Khan of great harbors of high mountains and the promise of great treasure in the interior? What captains would you choose to accompany you? Don Hernando de Soto, First Excellency. He is a valiant leader and I would have a secretary young Hernando Cortez. That firebrand? Firebrand, he is Don Diego. Bold, adventuresome, hot-blooded. But he has a long head on his shoulders and fears no man. Nor husband, if gossip speaks truth. Stout Cortez has a roving eye. Have him if you will. They'll add itches for conquest in New Spain. So was the Spanish colonization of Cuba begun and its beginning was characteristic of the 400 years of misrule to follow. Four centuries of intolerable tyranny and incredibly brutish cruelty. Outrage, enslavement and torture so unspeakable that the population of about 250,000 had dwindled to 500 within the space of the first 50 years of Spanish occupation. One Indian chieftain, Hattigaway, dared to resist the invasion but his little band of followers were surrounded in Hattigaway taken prisoner. His Excellency Don Diego Valesquez condemned you to death by burning Hattigaway for treason to his majesty, the king of Spain. I am ready to die. Repent you now, Eden, forsake the faults and people, gods of your people and you may yet find bliss everlasting in heaven. Are there many Spaniards in those happy realms you promised me, soldier? Ah, many. The streets of heaven are filled with Spaniards. Then I will have nothing to do with your heaven. I will not go to a place where I may meet one of your accursed race. Come, come, come, come, come, come, come, come, come, come, come, come, come, come, come, come, come, come, come, come, come. Although the Spanish conquistadores were doomed to disafforge but in their fabulous dreams of gold and treasure in Cuba, the settlements flourished and the colony proved a rich one for the mother country. But always the seeds of uprising and rebellion were sprouting to be kept down only by the harshest measures. The Creoles or white Cubans were robbed, tortured and treated with the most contemptuous cruelty by the captain's general. It was in the latter half of the 19th century that Cuban insurgency became a nationalistic issue. Its leaders, the fervent, excitable youth of Havana and Santiago, the young men of old aristocratic families. It is the year 1871 and Carlos Aguera and his sister Carlita are dining at the Cafe Dominica. Look, Carlito, there is Cisneros in the ring. Yes, Cisneros. He's coming this way. I shall not put up with his insults. Please speak of us, Daniel. No, no, Carlos. Do not quarrel with him. You must not risk offending him. Ah, Señorita Aguera, may I see it with you? We are honored, don't Cisneros. You know my brother, Carlos? A student, I am told. Don Carlos. A free political thinker. Such things are best left to older heads. My ancestors were Spanish, but I am a Cuban. There are no Cubans. Only through patriots of Spain or enemies. Ah, but why should we talk of politics when the Señoritas' eyes are like dark stars? You should not waste such charms and beauty in these outlands. Perhaps we shall see you at Madrid or Barcelona. Havana is my home. I remain here always. We shall see. We Spaniards have a way of getting what we said our hearts to. I cannot permit such talk, don't Cisneros. My sister is in my care. Come, Carmita. It's time we were leaving. Why should I not serve as Cavaliero to the Señorita? No, I thank you, Captain Cisneros. But my brother will escort me when it's not it. I look to see you soon, Señorita Carmita. Perhaps then we may speak again of Barcelona. And the next night at the Aguera Home in the old Cerro District of Havana. It will not be long before the youth of Cuba arises. But we must be careful, Carlos. I am ready when you rest on this. I am ready. The plight of the Cubans is intolerable. I have improved my sister here to join our father in exile. Last night Cisneros forced his company upon us again and we were dining at the Cafe Dominica. Because only Carmita's presence and the danger to her that kept me from hurling my wine in his face. Oh, he will not kill you instantly, Carlos. It is for you I fear, my brother, not myself. I saw three officers of the accursed volunteers watching you in the park yesterday, Carlos. Every care Cisneros was one of them. All students are under suspicion of the defacement of the graves of these Spanish soldiers. It is a false charge. That was not the work of our friends. You know it well. Yet eight of them await trial. God knows what indignities they now suffer in the Dungeons of the Morals. See, and little chance they have for fair trial. There can be no justice for Cubans while the volunteers control the city. There is no evidence against the eight. The Capitan general must free them all. But the volunteers are incensed. In my own blood, tonight the Prado is swarming with Spanish. I saw them gargling in the Prado's arms as I come here. Ah, too well. I know these volunteers. Was I not in the theater that night when we sang the Cuban songs? Did I not see them ruthlessly pour their volley into us unarmed? The man at my left was shot through the arm. His blood spattered me. Come. Come here to the bueno, Carlos. Something is happening at the Prado. What is it? What brings you here all out of bed? Why are you so white? Beasts swine. They're executing our friends. What? The eighth team. I cannot remain on the street. The Spaniards of Grunman. Oh, no, no, no. It's a lynch law trial. All enemies of Cuba, all volunteers are travesty of justice. They gathered at the Plaza by thousands. I saw our friends ready for the judges and convicted. I could not remain to see the end. I hasten here. You hear? It is the firing squad. Our friends are the big patriots of Cuba. In heaven. The Quinterala, Grimonte and the others. Peace to their souls. Cuba libre. We cannot forget Cuba libre. Cuba libre. Cuba libre. Cuba libre. Cuba libre. Cuba libre. Cuba libre. Cuba libre. Nor were these martyrs the Cuban liberty forgotten. The torch of freedom lay in their comrade's lighted. Was finally carried on to glorious victory. With the help of another country conceived in liberty. It is two o'clock in the morning, February 16th, 1898, when John D. Long, Secretary of the Navy of the United States, is awakened at his home in Washington. A telegram just arrived for you, sir. Oh, is it really necessary to awaken me at this hour? Well, the message is from the State Department, sir, to be delivered only into your hand. Oh, give it here. Yeah. It's from Cuba. Hmm. Must be from Captain Sixby. Hey, Joe, listen to this. It is from Sixby. Fellowship Maine, blown up in Havana Harbor at 940 to lighten destroyed. Many wounded and doubtless more killed or burned. Public opinion should be suspended until further reports. All officers believe to be saved. Many Spanish officers, including representatives of General Blanco, now with me, express sympathy. Sixby. The Maine? Hmm. The Maine sunk in a Spanish harbor? Blown up? What does this mean? It probably means war. The public is ripe for a war with Spain. They want to liberate the starving Cubans. It's extremely grave. Oh, that'll be the reporters, Mr. Long. We kill those boys, gather their typewriters. I'm afraid poor Sixby's admonition to withhold judgment won't count for much. Who is it, Gates? The gentleman of the press, sir. Oh. Tell them my secretary will talk to them, and I shall have a statement for the papers later. You see them, John. Yes, sir. Don't commit us or express any opinion. No, sir. I'm his telephone, Mr. McKinley. And get the White House on the line, Gates, in my office. Say it's urgent. I must speak to the President. Oh. Well, come in, gentlemen. Come in. Oh. Well, here we are. You're almost ahead of our news. What about the Maine? Yeah. The Maine war. Please, please, gentlemen, we only got the message ourselves a few minutes ago. We must consider the situation. This is war. The Maine war. Forget the Maine. The Maine war. This is war. The Maine war. The Maine war. President McKinley's Declaration of War against Spain aroused a great wave of extravagant enthusiasm and patriotism throughout the nation. This was a popular war, and the President's call for volunteers, issued on the 23rd of April, 1898, was answered by most of the young men of the Best Families, eager to fight for the cause of the Cubans. The press sent its most brilliant correspondence down to Florida, where they waited impatiently in the heat for hostilities to commence. named this a newspaper war and not without justification for it proved a tremendous stimulant for lagging circulation. On the first of May Admiral Dewey captured or destroyed all the ships the Spanish fleet stationed at Manila. Meanwhile Spain had dispatched another fleet to Cuban waters under the command of Admiral Severa. An American portilla headed by Admiral Sampson set out from Key West pursued by a persistent press boat to find the Spaniards and do battle. After a rather ludicrous game of hide and seek the Spanish ships were finally located bottled up in the harbor of Santiago de Cuba. Here they lurked in exasperating safety their guns protecting the city while the American fleet lay outside unable to get at their adversaries. Finally a bold stroke was decided upon. Admiral Sampson on the night of June the 1st called to his quarters a young naval constructor Lieutenant Richmond P. Hobson. Mr. Hobson I've decided to execute the plan which you and I discussed. You mean submerged the Collier Merrimack in the harbor entrance? I do. The channel is but a hundred yards in width. If we can think the Merrimack broadside at this point on the chart so their ships must stay inside until the entrance is cleared and that won't be until they surrender. And you'll put me in charge of this venture sir? That is for you to choose. I can't conscientiously order any officer to submit to show perilous and undertaking. It's not likely that those who attempt this will ever return. But I ask for it sir. I volunteer for this duty and I don't believe that escape is impossible. I've been studying the whole matter for the past few days and I believe we can bring it off sir. Shall I choose the men who are to accompany me? We must first ask for volunteers. How many should you need? Six or seven sir. My plan is this. We shall run the Merrimack within a hundred yards of the morrow's guns, swing around, drop anchors at stern and bow, open the sea valves and explode our torpedoes. We shall need two men for the engine, boarder rooms, one at each anchor, one at the wheel and one to help with the torpedoes. And after she's sunk, what a view on your men. We shall set free on a raft and cut them run and when the torpedoes are exploded, swim to one or the other. Very good Mr. Hobson. Pass the word for volunteers and signal the other ships. Aye sir. Right away. Hundreds of officers and men at once proffered their services and clamored to make the sacrifice which seemed to spell certain death. Seven were selected by Lieutenant Hobson. On the night of June 2nd, the attempt was made. When the Merrimack was within five hundred yards of the fortress, creeping slowly with all lights extinguished, the alarm was sounded and firing from the heavy shore, batteries commenced to be taken up by the troops. While mines were exploded in the entrance and in the waters and torpedoes discharged at the doomed vessel. It is the morning following and Samson is pacing the deck of his flagship to New York, hoping for news. In the gray dawn, a tug, flying a flag of truth, put out from shore and up close to New York. It held several Spanish officers who were invited to come aboard. Admiral Samson, I am Capitan Bustamenti, Admiral Cervera's chief of staff. We bring you word of your courageous men. They are safe. Thank God for that. Lieutenant Hobson and his men are honored prisoners. The admiral himself took Lieutenant Hobson aboard his launch from the raft, where all eight men concealed themselves throughout the night. They suffered greatly from exposure in the cold water, but they are all well now and being properly cared for. We salute their bravery, but their venture has failed. How? It is no secret, Admiral Samson. The Merrimack's rudder was shot away by a fire. Daring as Lieutenant Hobson was, in the face of our fire, he could not possibly maneuver his ship to a position so that it would effectively block the entrance of Santiago Harbour. I would not have believed your gunnery so accurate. Your country and your navy may well be proud of your men. Admiral Cervera wishes me to inform you that he is willing to exchange them under the rules and courtesies of war. Your admiral is a generous foe as well as a great leader. Please present my thanks and compliments. Just one month to a day after Hobson's exploit, Cervera's selling for from Santiago Harbour in a brave and desperate attempt to save his men a war. As the great ships emerged one by one, guns roaring, the American ships attacked in a brief but terrific battle. The proud ships of Spain went down each a blazing inferno or were beached on the rocky Cuban coast. And all the while the presses of American newspapers ground out their blazing headlines. Cervera's fleet sunk. Thompson, hero of Santiago. Cuba must be freed. Support the starving Cubans. Rough riders reach Cuba. Santiago is falling. Liberty for Cuba. Cuba, Libre. Santiago was attacked from the land by American troops under the command of General Shafter. The Spanish had adressed at San Juan Hill and at daybreak the Americans began their assault on these positions. Two brigades under General Samuel S. Sumner and Colonel Leonard Wood, assisted by Lieutenant Colonel Theodore Roosevelt, were deployed at the base of the hills. Let us join Richard Harding Davis, most famous of newspaper correspondence, who has been invited to participate in the deliberations preparatory to the assault. General Wheeler, there can be but one course to follow. We must charge the hillside immediately and drive them from their entrenchments on the crest. You realize, Colonel Roosevelt, what that means. They're sharpshooters on the heights. They have effective cover while our men must expose themselves almost every yard of the way. Mr. Davis, you've seen more fighting than most of us. You think we can drive these Spaniards out? In my opinion, General Wheeler, Colonel Roosevelt is right. Absolutely. Delay will not help matters. The time to attack is now. Grimes and Captain Capron's batteries hampered by lack of smokeless powder and offering a perfect target to our adversaries cannot hope to shell those positions successfully. This whole war has been characterized by shillie-sharlinging, by delays and mistakes. Action is what we need now. I wish I were in Washington before Congress for a few minutes. I'd tell them something about the way this war has been managed. Shoddy clothes, unfit food, insufficient supplies, a commanding general who's too ill to be at the front yet who insists on issuing orders. Oh, pardon me, gentlemen. That is some general safety for you, sir. The chief is commenced his attack upon El Camay. He expects us to take San Juan Hill. Then there's no reason for further delay. We must charge the hills and drive them from their positions. Colonel Wood's men are already deployed. Mine await my orders. We must not fail lots of troops and safety. If you will let me, I'll lead the way with my rough riders. I shall order them to dismount and go forward on foot. It'll be guerrilla warfare. They're very kind. These Spaniards know best. Every knoll, every bush conceals a mouser. Now our Westerners will never stop until they're victorious. They know open country fighting. They're not afraid of gunfire. Very good, Colonel Roosevelt, and they give your men the order to advance. Delighted. Mr. Davis, I must ask you not to expose yourself needlessly. Your editor would not thank me if we did not return you safe and sound. Thanks for your consideration, General. Don't worry about me. I can look after myself. Juan fell before the rough riders led by Colonel Roosevelt. El Camay fell. Shortly, Santiago capitulated and General Bronco withdrew his troops from Cuba and sailed for Spain. The brief Spanish-American war was over. A newspaper war, indeed, marked by a woeful lack of strategy and taking needless toll of many lives. After four centuries, Cuba was free at last. Modern Cuba is yet deservedly a most popular playground for travelers. The charm of its ancient cities, Santiago, Oriental in color and background, Matanzas and the nearby Yemuri Valley, and wonderful caves of Bellamar. Cienafuegos, Cardenas and others cast an unforgettable spell over the visitor. But it is always Havana, which exercises the most potent charm. It's restaurants. Many of them sidewalks a phase in a continental manner. Invite our leisure for repress clothes. Those harmless, brightly tinted iced syrups of fresh fruits, dear to the heart of all Cubans. Our palates are tempted by new dishes and endless and irresistible variety. Sopa de cuota hora, a chowder of fish, more of crabs, more appetizing than lobster, patinos, fritos or fried plantains, tortillas and pisto manchego. For our entertainment, we can visit the president's palace, the capital, the main monument on the Malacan, El Moro, Alfueza, facing the Plaza de Armas, El Templeite, the cathedral which once contained the venerated bones of Christopher Columbus. By day, there is the great Playa or beach, the race track, a splendid country club, two yacht clubs and many fascinating drives into the surrounding country. Tonight, there are the highlight games played by professionals in the great Fontaine, the casino, a Monte Carlo in miniature, theaters, dance on, then smart night clubs. And now our ship is sailing, and we've been reluctant at year to all this old world glamour, this new world brightness and activity. Farewell, Havana, farewell Cuba. May we visit your bright shores soon again.