After dying for revolution, Cuban lives as dollar magnet
PAUL BRINKLEY-ROGERS
Rebels of the world, borrowing a Cuban revolutionary
slogan, say that Ernesto ``Ché'' Guevara lives and indeed
he does, although not in the way he intended.
Thirty-three years after Ché was killed trying to start
an
uprising in Bolivia, his face is a buck-making image -- for
beer brewers, ski fabricators, mouse pad manufacturers,
record companies, T-shirt peddlers, women's underwear
designers and other capitalists who have turned Fidel
Castro's comrade-in-arms into a salesman to the
wide-eyed youth of the world.
Even Cuba, which enshrined the remains of the Argentine-born doctor-warrior
in
1997 with a ceremony worthy of a saint, has made him a dollar
magnet.
State-run ``artisan markets'' sell Ché puppets, and state-owned
travel agencies
offer tours to the sites of Ché's legendary exploits --
not including, of course, the
wall at La Cabaña fortress where his firing squads shot
the revolution's enemies.
Some of this commercial exploitation -- for example, Smirnoff's
attempt last year
to market a spicy Vodka with an ad campaign using Ché's
likeness and a chili
pepper replacing the sickle in the communist party emblem --
has prompted
outrage.
LATEST TWIST
But no one has complained yet about the latest twist, however.
In fact, Canadian John Trigiani's online supermarket of Ché
products has resulted
in hundreds of orders from the United States for trinkets, and
a flurry of interest by
some of his youthful customers in the short life of a man who
died before they
were born.
Ché smiles enigmatically from made-in-Cuba alarm clocks
and from collector
plates pictured in Trigiani's catalog. Clad in fatigues and wearing
a beret, Ché
strikes a fighting pose in kitschy figurines.
Swatch watches unearthed by Trigiani in a Havana warehouse --
part of a
shipment of 10,000 bought by Cuba's government -- use Ché's
face to tell time.
``My site is not a political site,'' says Trigiani, a Toronto
photographer who travels
frequently to Cuba to mine for memorabilia and who said he became
interested in
Ché when he began dating a Cuban woman who went to university
with one of
Ché's sons.
Trigiani says he is just satisfying collector curiosity, and interest
among young
people for whom Ché is an icon of the rebellious '60s.
He gets 25 to 30 e-mail
requests a day, mostly from the United States. He turns aside
demands for rum
and cigars.
Some things are sacred, Trigiani said.
He knows old timers in Havana who have photos and letters signed
by Ché and
he has not tried to buy them. A woman offered him four Cuban
3 peso bank notes
she claimed were personally signed by Ché for $2,750 each,
but he declined.
ROLE DEPLORED
For left-leaning idealists, the use of Che's visage in commercial
products can be
jarring. They deplore guest book comments by T-shirt buyers on
sites like
che-lives.com such as ``Who is and what happened to the revolutionary?''
West Palm Beach-born Aaron Shuman, 28, a social critic for counter-culture
publications, said he went to see a Rage Against the Machine
concert last year
and was amazed at how many people wore Ché T-shirts. The
group used Ché's
image for its ``Bombtrack'' single.
This month Shuman visited an executive of the chic Urban Outfitters
chain and
found the man using a mouse pad with Ché's face on it.
The negative effects of commercial exploitation are, Shuman said,
outweighed by
the fact that some people may go beyond wearing a T-shirt or
buying souvenirs
and actually read one of Ché's books on making revolution.
``I think that is happening,'' he said.
For many members of South Florida's Cuban-American population,
the subject of
Ché is not a welcome one.
``I don't think anyone wearing a Ché Guevara T-shirt would
be welcome in Dade
County,'' community activist Armando Gutiérrez said. ``Not
even at the flea
market have I seen anything with Che's face on it.''
Rocio Izaguirre, who sells T-shirts at her Little Havana store,
said, ``I can't
understand why young people would want to wear that man's face.
What do they
know about history?
``It is like kids wearing a peace symbol because they think it
is cute -- so sad, so
ignorant.''
The mere suggestion of Ché can also offend.
In 1998, many Cuban Americans objected when Taco Bell sold toy
Chihuahuas
sporting Ché's trademark beret with the red star which,
when squeezed, said
``Viva Gorditas'' -- a popular meal.
Other Hispanics voiced displeasure with the whole ``Yo quiero
Taco Bell''
campaign, claiming it was offensive and that it stereotyped Latinos.
Alberto Korda, the 72-year-old Cuban photographer whose famous
photo of a
fierce-eyed, long-haired Ché has been appropriated without
his permission for
many commercial products, has led the fight to halt the practice.
He photographed Ché during a funeral for the 136 people
killed when a munitions
ship exploded in Havana harbor in 1960 -- an incident Cuba still
blames on the
United States.
SUED AND WON
Korda, who wears a Ché pendant around his neck, had remained
silent through
the years. But he sued Smirnoff in a British court over its ad
campaign. Last
month he won, getting a cash settlement and copyright protection
for his
much-used image.
He told the court that using his photo, and his hero, to sell
vodka was
disrespectful because Ché did not drink and, he said,
the revolutionary was ``the
greatest person in history, after Jesus Christ.''
Which is why, perhaps, a group of British churches last year at
Easter dared to
substitute Ché's face for that of Jesus Christ in advertising
designed to reclaim
the souls of disaffected rockers.
The revolutionary was pictured wearing a crown of thorns, with
a slogan reading,
``Meek and Mild. As if. Discover the Real Jesus. Church!'' The
Rev. Tom Ambrose
of Britain's Church Advertising Network explained at the time
that ``Jesus was a
revolutionary figure and more revolutionary than anyone in the
21st Century.''
There was intense criticism. Conservative Christians claimed it
was a sacrilege.
But it was a ploy, the churches said, that resulted in thousands
of young people
finding religion again.