William Morgan was executed by Castro's firing squad in 1961, but now his widow wants his body returned to Toledo

CUBA'S YANKEE COMANDANTE

By MICHAEL D. SALLAH
BLADE NATIONAL AFFAIRS WRITER

Day 2 of a 3-part series

Led through the darkness to the firing squad, William Morgan calmly asked that his handcuffs be removed. With shouts of "Viva Morgan" echoing from the cavernous La Cabana prison, he stepped onto a dry moat surrounding the ancient fortress.

Under the glare of spotlights, he did something no one had done before at the Cuban prison: He embraced the sergeant of the firing squad.

"Tell the boys that I forgive them," he said.

He then leaned over and hugged the priest who was whispering prayers at his side.

To his Cuban wife, Olga, he shared his last thoughts in a letter: "It always seems that we could never be alone, the moments that we were able to, we had to steal them."

Forty-one years later, Olga Goodwin still tries to steal them - moments lost in time.

This was her husband - the father of her children - about to walk to his death.

Just two years earlier, they were celebrating the revolution, a rebel fighter from Toledo, Ohio, and a striking Cuban activist who joined the cause to overthrow the government of Fulgencio Batista.

They belonged to a rebel force of anti-communists who set aside their differences with other guerillas to fight the same enemy.

Though the revolution was won on Jan. 1, 1959, the war never ended for Olga and her husband.

Forces were working against them - forces in Cuba and across the Florida Straits too powerful to ignore.

"We never had peace," says the diminutive woman who now lives in West Toledo.

Though Morgan was accused by Fidel Castro of being a CIA agent, serious doubts persist today that he was ever a government agent, according to interviews and public records.

At one time, he was one of the highest-ranking non-Cubans in the rebel forces, a high school dropout from Middle America who left his home in 1957 to join in a movement more than 1,400 miles away.

"He died," Olga says, "for no reason."

Experts who study Cuban history have questioned the circumstances surrounding his fate. "I still can’t figure out what he did - and why he died," says Jaime Suchlicki, a professor of Cuban history at the University of Miami.

Four decades after his execution, his former wife - who spent 12 years in Cuban prisons - wants his body to be shipped to America to be reburied in his hometown.

She has petitioned the Cuban government for permission to remove his remains from a Havana cemetery, and is waiting for a reply.

"This has always been inside of me," says Olga, 65, who moved to Toledo in 1980 after leaving Cuba.

They met during the war, and were wed in a mountain hideaway seven months later. Their dream was to stay in Cuba and raise their two daughters amid the lush forests of the Escambray Mountains, she says. But their plans would fade like a sunset over the Caribbean Sea.
 
'It got real ugly. We had our hands on our guns.'

Olga stares at the photo of Fidel Castro and Ernesto "Che" Guevara walking arm in arm with William Morgan.

The picture remains one of the most powerful images of the revolution: the rebel commanders marching through the streets of Havana, pressed by crowds screaming "Viva Cuba."

She quickly sets the picture down, and nods her head. "These men," she says, "were never our friends."

But how could he know? He was a street tough raised in Toledo who was selling Christmas trees just days before he left for Cuba. He admittedly did not grasp the intricacies of politics - much less a revolution.

But after the war, a power struggle began that would shake the island nation to its core, and force Morgan into a fight to survive.

It began days after the rebels declared victory.

When the revolutionary units gathered in Havana, an argument broke out between Morgan and Che Guevara.

Guevara demanded that some officers of the Second Front - Morgan’s unit - be stripped of their ranks.

The two commanders jumped up and exchanged harsh words, recalls Eloy Gutierrez Menoyo, the Second Front leader.

"It got real ugly," he recalls. "Morgan and Che were about to fight. I was going to join in. We had our hands on our guns."

The men were separated, and a pact was eventually reached between the guerilla fighters.

But in the days to follow, neither Morgan or Guevara would emerge as the new government leader. That position would belong to Fidel Castro, the 33-year-old lawyer who started the revolution in 1953.

He would become the prime minister within weeks of the rebel victory and a pivotal figure in Morgan’s life.

'People just wanted to touch him.'

Once described as the cowboy of Cuba, Morgan became a visible figure in post-war Havana, dressed in olive combat fatigues and toting a gold-plated .38-caliber revolver.

He tooled around the city in a blue Oldsmobile, equipped with three telephone radios, hand grenades, and dual machine guns.

Flashing a government permit, he would drive anywhere - even in restricted areas, say people who remember him.

"He was tough," says historian Enrique Encinosa, who met Morgan in 1959. "He would do what he wanted to do, and he went wherever he wanted."

With his comandante rank, he was a celebrity throughout the island - the subject of newspaper stories that were "enough to make school boys drool," wrote American reporter Robert Branson in 1960.

There were comic books in Spanish portraying the blue-eyed adventurer as a hero to Cubans, an American who understood their cause.

But the new Havana was not like the capital city of the 1950s. The casinos were shutting down, and the numbers of tourists dwindling.

With its Spanish architecture and spectacular churches, Havana was still the power center of Cuba, one of the destination centers of the Western Hemisphere. But now the streets were covered with soldiers dressed in battle fatigues.

To Morgan and Olga, they finally found a home.

After living in two cramped apartments, they moved into a large house in the city’s Miramar section.

Their house, which they rented for $170 a month, was likened to a "way station" for homeless freedom fighters and Olga’s relatives.

"There were always people staying with us, sleeping everywhere," she recalls.

His celebrity status peaked when he helped smash a coup attempt by the Dominican Republic in August, 1959 - landing Morgan on the front page of the New York Times.

Recruited by secret agents of the other island nation, he was asked to help them overthrow Fidel Castro.

The president of the Dominican Republic, Rafael Trujillo, was a U.S. puppet and sworn enemy of Castro.

Morgan played along, but at some point, told his bearded leader.

The plan called for an invasion of Cuba near the town of Trinidad. With the help of loyal rebels, Morgan was to capture the town as a base to take over the rest of the island.

The plan was mobilized, and at a critical point, someone radioed the Dominican Republic to say the town was seized - the green light to invade.

But when the Dominican transport plane touched down with soldiers, guns, and ammunition, Castro and his men were waiting. The coup was smashed, with Morgan hailed as the hero.

During a televised press conference in Havana on Aug. 15, 1959, Castro shared the stage with Morgan, calling him a "comrade," and declaring him "a Cuban - not a North American."

In the ensuing days, people would stop him on the streets of capital - "Morgan, Morgan," they would shout. "People just wanted to touch him," recalls Mr. Encinosa. "That’s when he really became big."
 
U.S. strips Morgan of his citizenship

But as the new government took shape, Morgan and fellow guerillas found they were slowly being left out of the inner circle.

Castro was the prime minister and others, such as Guevara were in cabinet posts. But none of the leaders of the Second Front - the anti-Communist rebels - was given a top post.

Morgan was angry, says Olga. "He believed in the revolution, as much as anyone."

Though Castro had promised free elections and the right to form labor unions during the war, those requests had not yet been granted, say Cuban scholars. In the first year of the new government, firing squads executed more than 400 Batista supporters.

Despite warnings from friends, Morgan began criticizing the direction of the new leaders.

He openly questioned why Castro was courting the Soviets. "If something happens to me," he told Look magazine, "then you know the commies have really taken over."

Hiram Gonzalez, who now lives in Miami, says he believes Morgan was too outspoken at a time when Castro’s agents were watching dissidents closely. "William couldn’t stay quiet. He didn’t care," said Mr. Gonzalez.

When Morgan planned a lecture tour of U.S. cities to talk about the revolution - including a stop at the Sports Arena in Toledo - the new government abruptly cancelled the series.

Just three weeks after the failed coup attempt, Morgan discovered that his problems were not just in Cuba. He received a notice from the U.S. government: He was no longer a U.S. citizen.

In a controversial decision, the U.S. State Department revoked his citizenship, saying he had broken the law by joining Cuba’s army.

Though at least six other Americans had fought in the revolution, none but Morgan lost his citizenship.

The news was a blow to Morgan’s parents, who read about it in The Toledo Blade. "That bothered his mother until she died," says Olga.

Without U.S. citizen protections, and increased tensions rising between Cuba and America, Morgan was trying to keep a low profile.

With prodding from friends, he took on a conservation job with the government and started a new venture - raising frogs.

Morgan took over several frog farms with former Toledoan Frank Emmick, a businessman who spent several years in Cuba. They began shipping 20,000 pounds of frog legs per month to American restaurants.

Olga gave birth to a second daughter in July, 1960, and the couple tried to settle down and make a home. They began to take trips to the mountains and beach.

"I’m staying out of trouble," Morgan told Look.

But times were changing.

Castro ordered a new crackdown against government dissidents, including some of Morgan’s former guerillas. The Cuban government already had taken over American oil companies on the island.

When Castro appeared on television one night, bellowing, "Yankee Go Home," Morgan was enraged, says Olga. "I never saw him so angry."

He began to gather firearms and haul them to a hiding place in the Escambray Mountains, where the Second Front had kept a stash after the war.

In the past, he had distributed anti-communist cartoons to the farmers, and even used high-powered radios to jam government broadcasts. But now, he was doing something far more serious.

To this day his friend, Eloy Menoyo, insists there was no plan at the time to overthrow Castro. "I made him promise me there would be no conspiracy," said Mr. Menoyo. "William gave me his word. He told me that he was just doing this as a precaution. That he was doing it for protection."

Olga admits she was helping to store guns but says there was no plan to attack anyone.

But on Oct. 17, 1960 - two years after the revolution - they were arrested by the secret police, Morgan taken to La Cabana prison and Olga placed under house arrest.

Eleven others, including Jesus Carrera, 27, a close friend, were also charged with delivering arms to the mountains for anti-Castro guerillas, and "at the direction of foreign interests."

'Kneel and beg for your life.'

Morgan walked to his trial singing "As the Caissons Go Rolling Along," the U.S. Army theme song.

In the five months he was jailed at La Cabana, an ancient fortress across the bay from Havana, Morgan exercised vigorously, often sprinting around the prison yard.

When the proceedings began on March 9 in a field artillery building, he was trimmed down and muscular.

"He wanted to be strong," recalls fellow inmate Hiram Gonzalez, 65, now living in Miami. "He would always tell the others [prisoners] to be strong. He was like a brother to us."

Even before the trial, he suspected the witnesses against him were his former bodyguards sent to him by Castro: Manolo Cisneros, Ruben Dominguez, and Mario Yarinero.

The trial was held in a cramped classroom, with the 12 defendants on one side, and several weeping wives and mothers on the other, according to American radio broadcaster Lee Hall.

One of those observers was Theresa Del Pino, then the wife of co-defendant Jesus Carrera. She says the witnesses testified that Morgan and others met with U.S embassy officials four times.

But she and Mr. Hall said the witnesses never knew what was discussed.

The act of storing arms against the wishes of the government should have drawn a prison sentence, perhaps nine years, argued Morgan’s lawyer, Luis Carro. No plan for a coup was ever advanced by prosecutors.

"The trial was a farce," Mr. Hall told his listeners after leaving the courtroom.

There was no evidence that Morgan ever worked for the government or was an agent, his lawyer argued.

In a final plea, Morgan told the five-member military court: "I stand here innocent, and I guarantee this court that if I am found guilty I will walk to the execution wall with no escort, with moral strength, and with a clear conscience. I have defended this revolution because I believed in it."

At the end of the trial, he and Jesus Carrera were found guilty. Olga, who was in hiding, was convicted in absentia. The other defendants drew sentences, and three were acquitted.

Defense lawyers, using an old stone bench, were given an hour to write an appeal, but it was rejected.

Before sentencing, Morgan was escorted to a cell in La Cabana, where he met with an American priest, John McKniff.

They talked about his Catholic roots and his mother in Toledo, who needed to be told of his impending death.

It was then that Morgan wrote his last letter to Olga.

"To tell you that I love you is not sufficient, because words could never express my feelings toward you or what you mean to me.... When I found you, I found everything I can wish for in the world, and only death can separate us."
The court ruled at 4:45 p.m: death by firing squad for Morgan and Carrera. Olga was sentenced to 30 years.

Before his execution, Morgan had several last requests: to phone his mother, Olga, and Castro, though the prisoner stressed he would not ask for clemency. He also requested to be executed that night.

His requests were denied, except the last.

He was able to kiss and hug his two baby daughters, who were taken to the prison by Olga’s mother and sister.

"Let them know someday who their father was, and what my beliefs and ideals were," he wrote to his wife.

At 9:40 p.m. he whispered his confession to Father McKniff, and as they were led to the firing squad, Morgan said: "I am a practicing Catholic, and not afraid. Now I’ll find out what’s on the other side."

His friend, Jesus Carrera was the first to be shot - the 588th person executed under Castro’s rule. Five minutes later, it was Morgan’s turn.

As he was escorted to the wall - his cuffs removed - he called the priest to his side. "Take this," he said, removing a rosary around his neck. He wanted it sent to his mother.

He then turned to his executioners.

From the darkness, a voice boomed in Spanish: "Kneel and beg for your life."

Morgan shouted back, also in Spanish: "I kneel for no man."

Immediately, sharpshooters aimed for his knees, the bullets piercing his legs until he collapsed, witnesses said.

The head of the firing squad then walked over to the prisoner, and fired several rounds into his chest, ending his life.

When his lawyer, Luis Carro, phoned Morgan’s mother in Toledo, she broke down crying and couldn’t speak.

News of his death appeared on the front pages of the New York Times and The Blade.

James Tafelski, Sr., who grew up with Morgan, is still struck by the way he died: "A firing squad," he says. "They killed Billy Morgan in a damn firing squad. I couldn’t believe it."

Cardinal Richard Cushing, whose request to the Castro government for leniency was turned down, said Morgan was "a martyr to the cause of freedom," and "certainly is a hero in my mind."

Requests to interview Cuban officials in Washington, D.C., about Morgan’s execution were repeatedly ignored.

Olga says her husband never would have backed down from Castro’s government; so perhaps his death was inevitable. There were earlier opportunities for him to leave the island, but he refused, she says.

She recalls a letter he sent to his mother from the mountains in 1958: "Why I came here is not important. The important thing is that I know if I live through this I will never walk out on the problems in my life again."

In the years since his death, scores of State Department and FBI records have been declassified about Morgan and his activities in Cuba. But there are no indications he ever worked for a federal agency.

"He was not a CIA agent nor was he on the CIA’s payroll," says Mr. Encinosa, the historian. "He may have dealt with those people, but he was not one of them."

In Cuba, he found a family and a cause, says Mr. Encinosa. "For so much of his life, he was a loser. He ended up in prison. And then he goes to Cuba, and he’s loved by the people, and he becomes a hero. It was his one chance to stand up for something, and he did. He found a sense of worth and salvaged his life down there."

Several of Morgan’s former guerillas swore revenge and even Olga, when she went to prison, says she longed for the day her husband’s captors would meet the same end.

But in his last letter, she’s reminded of his words: "Revenge is not the answer. It’s better that I die because I have defended lives. I only ask that someday the truth be known...."

TOMORROW: Olga's life was spared, but she spent 12 years as one of Castro's most famous female prisoners before fleeing Cuba and moving to Toledo.