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Title
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The Second Invasion of Cuba [Part I]
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Date
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January 1940
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volume
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5
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issue
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1
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pages
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1, 7
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content
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en
THE SECOND INVASION OF CUBA
An informal account of the Cuban-American fencing matches of 1939
By Miguel A. de Capriles, Captain of the A.F.L.A. team
When Dernell Every asks me to do another diary of the Cuban trip for The Riposte, he warns me to keep it short, so that there may be room for other articles in this issue. However, I want all our readers to enjoy the trip, the gossip, and the excitement of the matches, as much as we do as members of the team. So we'll have to let the editor worry about space.
Three of us leave on the ORIENTE on December 20: my brother Jose, Ed Carfagno of Los Angeles, and myself. Gus Heiss and Norman Armitage are to follow on the MEXICO on December 22. There is excitement even before the ORIENTE leaves. The Pacific Coast champion arrives with his brand-new bride, Lois, and is she a honey! We get the romantic details: the bridal party leaves L.A. one bright A.M., there is a ceremony in Yuma, Arizona, in the P.M., and then Mr. and Mrs. break the cross-country record in their sturdy steed—I mean Cadillac—making fantastic speeds but getting no tickets. We recall the Nationals in San Francisco last summer and remember Ed not at all like a prospective bridegroom.
Harold Van Buskirk and Johnny Huffman are on hand with final instructions. Jose promises to be a perfect chaperon to Ed and myself with our respective wives. Mother Huffman (who has arranged all such details as international licenses, emblems, etc.), and lovely Barbara Cochrane (your reporter's secret passion), come to bid us bon voyage.
The outward trip is a bit rough; in fact we are all seasick except Ed. But his superior seamanship nearly proves disastrous, as the gale blows shut a heavy door which smashes the tip of his right index finger, and he is right-handed! ... Upon arrival in Havana on the 23rd, we are met by Lorenzo ("Jimmy") Nodarse, Cuba's tennis champion and Davis Cup star, who represents Lt. Col. Jaime Marine, Sports Commissioner of Cuba and our official host; by Mr. Meredith Weatherby, American vice-consul; and by our friends the leading Cuban fencers.
Three full days before the foil matches give Ed, Jose and myself ample opportunity to round out into first-class physical shape. We practice at the Colegio de Arquitectos and at our familiar headquarters, the Vedado Tennis Club. We enjoy the warm and sunny weather, and the beautiful salt-water pool. Lois Carfagno will remember it well. One afternoon, fresh from the beauty parlor and a perfect hair-dressing job, she decides to tease Ed, and the latter finally gives her a sound ducking—without a cap. As Ed says later: "It was expensive, but worth it!" There are sight-seeing trips, cocktails (the tomato-juice kind for the fencers!) at Prado 82 with Col. Marine, and a fascinating game of Jai-Alai. A heavy rain Christmas Eve, most unusual during the current "dry" season, wrecks many parties, and marks an unfavorable turn in the weather, which continues during the remainder of our stay and considerably curtails our non-fencing program.
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CALCULATIONS OF A CAPTAIN
Christmas day I work out our starting line-ups. I plan to use Ed, Jose and myself in foil, with Gus Heiss (who is arriving the morning of the 26th) as alternate. Since the match is to take place in the evening of the 26th, I figure it is best to give Gus a chance to get his bearings. In epee, I have two members of the record-breaking national championship team of 1939 (Gus and Norman) and I figure that the two of them and Jose will be our best bet. And in sabre—well, I figure that is no problem at all. With the exception of John Huffman, we have the best available team on the basis of 1939 ratings, with Norman, myself, and either Jose or Ed.
The Cuban team's leading sabreman is to be our good friend and respected rival, George Worth, formerly of Budapest and New York, who is the national champion of Cuba. The Cuban federation has written in advance for our consent to their using George on the team—and of course we are delighted. Unfortunately, we find there is some opposition among the Cubans to the appearance of the Hungarian star on their team, despite the fact that he has been a resident of the Island for nearly two years.
Analyzing the strength of the Cuban team very carefully, I come to the conclusion that we should win the sabre handily. Even if Worth takes three bouts I do not think that Garate and Manalich can win more than one between them against our seasoned squad. In the epee, it looks as if the Cubans have the edge with a perfectly balanced team, as Lamar, Garate and Sardina are three first-class and experienced fencers. So, the issue seems to turn on the outcome of the foil match. I remember Van Buskirk's comments after the Panama games of 1938, and some hearsay during our last trip, both of which indicate that Barrena is the man to fear in foil. But I have learned that he has been afflicted with various illnesses, is presently suffering from a severe backache, and is not certain to start. Ed's bad finger bothers him, but he says he's not going to travel 4,500 miles for nothing. Under the circumstances, I feel confident of victory, as Jose and Ed look good enough to win by themselves. Thus I calculate on Christmas day.
My misgivings start on the same evening. We have feasted on suckling pig—as traditional for Christmas in Cuba as Thanksgiving turkey is with us. It is delicious with all the trimmings—but it definitely does not agree with me. The gastronomic disturbance is so acute that I have the most awful bellyache since the day when I saw Naples and nearly died—but that is another story.
The net result is that when I go to meet Gus and Norman in the wee hours of the 26th, I am literally green around the gills. Norman is giving his farewell performance at the breakfast table, and regaling Carlos Lamar and myself with the news of the voyage (including Gus’ victory in the potato race). Then I hear more bad news: Gus has been suffering from the fencing equivalent of a “tennis elbow” for over a week, and finds it very painful to counterparry and to straighten the right arm fully. I explain my predicament; my stomach muscles are so sore that I can barely walk. Gus, like the fine soldier that he is, agrees to carry on in foil.
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THE FOIL MATCH
In my Captain’s Report, I have given the details of the bouts and of the judging. But the figures cannot tell the thrills of the foil match. Young and scrappy Taboada leads Jose in the first bout 4-2, with only thirty seconds to go, as his sharp-breaking attacks keep our lead-off man on his heels. Jose’s two lightning lunges against the preparation tie the score a bare second before the end of the regulation 15 minutes. When Jose finally delivers the coup de grace, over 25 minutes of actual fencing time have elapsed. The second bout is another overtime uphill battle, as Barrena leads Carfagno 4-2 as “two minutes” is called. Ed’s magnificent counter-sixte parries and disengage ripostes earn him the victory. Ramon Fonst tells me: “Carfagno does not look as good as he is on the strip—he is very much a fencer!” And that is the highest praise one may get from Cuba’s renowned World and Olympic Champion.
Carlos Lamar, however, is the outstanding foilsman of the match, and our collective hats are off to his performance. Better known in this country as an epeeist, Lamar demonstrates what can be done with any weapon by a truly fine strategist and heady fencer. He keeps his team in the running and emerges personally unbeaten. In his bout with Jose, he makes two counter-time stops in opposition that are gems of perfect execution. A gallant champion in a losing cause.
(Continued in Next Issue)
