BY ANDRES VIGLUCCI
He holds what to American ears may sound like a modest job, cashier
at the gate
of a park for foreign tourists in the Cuban resort of Varadero.
The flashes Americans
have seen on TV are of an intensely unhappy, even pugnacious
man, his eyes reduced
to slits, his close-cropped head hunkered down between his shoulders.
Little is known on this side of the Florida Straits about the
man now occupying
center stage in the custody melodrama that grips the nation.
Juan Miguel Gonzalez
has given few interviews, and he hasn't slept in his family's
small but tidy house in the
Cuban town of Cardenas for months.
By the accounts of those who know him best, his friends and relatives
in Cuba,
the 31-year-old Gonzalez is just what he publicly claims to be:
a good father and
a good Communist, a man devoted to his son, Elian, and to his
ideology.
Said a co-worker, Fidel Ramirez: ``All of us here have been witnesses
to the love
that boy has for his father, and the father for the boy.''
To this portrait, his Miami relatives -- who are enmeshed in a
bitter four-month
battle over the boy with Gonzalez -- add some dark strokes.
Early in the drama, the Miami relatives praised Juan Miguel's
qualities as family
man. Later, they claimed he struck the boy's mother and secretly
wished to come
to the United States, contentions that U.S. immigration authorities
say they have
been unable to substantiate. On Thursday night, speaking at the
Miami family's
behest, a psychologist who has evaluated Elian alleged the boy
is afraid of his
father because Gonzalez has been verbally abusive on several
occasions.
At the center of the relatives' argument for custody of Elian
is a complaint that
Juan Miguel cannot express his ``true wishes'' for his son because
of pressure
from the Cuban government. Certainly, Gonzalez has in recent
weeks been seen
publicly only under tightly controlled circumstances, surrounded
by Cuban
officials. NBC News has reported that, until his arrival Thursday
in Washington,
D.C., he had been living in a government guest house in a section
of Havana that
is home for foreign diplomats. While here, he will stay at the
suburban house of
Cuba's top U.S. envoy.
But it is clear also that Gonzalez and his side of the family
long ago made a
decision to throw their lot in with Fidel Castro, and have done
relatively well by it.
For Juan Miguel Gonzalez, membership in the Communist Party has
meant a
steady job with access to tips in foreign currency, and -- a
rare luxury in Cuba -- a
good house with air conditioning where Elian has his own room.
``An excellent worker and true revolutionary,'' one co-worker,
Pablo Hernandez,
said recently. ``He feels for his country like his life.''
Formally, his ex-wife, Elisabeth Brotons, had custody of their
only son, Elian --
born to them after seven painful miscarriages. Informally, neighbors
and friends
say, Elian spent at least as much time at his father's house
as at her apartment.
So close was Gonzalez to his son that he drove him to school in
his 1956 Nash
Rambler, treated him to lunch, took him for father-and-son haircuts,
and brought
him to work on school holidays.
``When Elian was born he was a miracle to us,'' Gonzalez told
an officer with the
U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service during a December
interview in
Havana. ``Elian is my life. He is my first son. Wherever I went,
he went with me. I
taught him how to swim, how to do karate. He has a parrot here,
dogs, a bicycle
and all kinds of toys.''
DIVIDED FAMILY
Like many Cuban families, Juan Miguel's was divided by the Revolution.
He is the son of a retired policeman, Juan Gonzalez, 53; his parents
live next
door. Of the elder Gonzalez's eight brothers and sisters, five
left Cuba for Miami,
including Lazaro and Delfin Gonzalez, who have led the public
fight to keep Elian
here.
Juan Miguel and his parents, he has said, have resisted repeated
entreaties from
his Miami relatives to join them in exile.
In a December phone conversation with his uncle Lazaro's daughter,
Marisleysis
-- presumably recorded in Cuba and transcribed and published
in the Communist
Party daily Granma -- Juan Miguel is quoted as saying:
``Cousin, we are the same blood and I love you all with all my
soul, but that is my
son and I am never going over there, because the way you think
is not my way. I
feel happy here . . .
``I am never leaving this place. If I wanted to go for money and
possibilities, I
would have been there long ago.''
15-DAY VISIT
In spite of the yawning political gulf between the two, though,
both sides of the
family got along well, so long as they avoided the subject of
politics. In 1998, in
fact, Lazaro Gonzalez and members of his family made a 15-day
visit to his
nephew Juan Miguel, who reminded Marisleysis that he slept in
his car or on a
sofa so his uncle could have his bed. That was the only time
the Miami relatives
saw Elian, until the ill-fated voyage that claimed his mother's
life and brought the
boy here.
``They took a liking to Elian because he's such a nice boy, well
behaved and well
mannered; since he's such a lovable boy, they immediately liked
him,'' Juan
Miguel told the INS official in Havana.
By early December, so angry had Juan Miguel become at his uncle's
refusal to
send Elian home to him that he told his cousin that he felt ``like
wringing his neck
over the phone.''
Said Ramirez, Juan Miguel's co-worker at the manicured Parque
Josone: ``They
picked the wrong father for this problem.''
ANGER, CONTEMPT
Gruff and unpolished, Gonzalez has made no secret of his anger
or his contempt
for Miami's Cuban exiles, perhaps most famously displayed in
a U.S. TV interview
earlier this year. He lashed out at his relatives and their exile
supporters and
spoke of sometimes wanting to come to Miami with a gun to shoot
those
responsible for keeping his son from him. Foreign journalists
who interviewed him
in Cuba have been taken aback by his casual use of vulgar language.
Yet that image is at odds with the descriptions of friends and
relatives, who say
he remained friendly with his ex-wife even after they split up
for good, in 1996 or
1997.
Juan Miguel and Elisabeth met in junior high and were together,
by his estimate,
a total of 15 years. They were married in 1985, then divorced
in 1991, a decision
prompted, according to relatives, by Elisabeth's miscarriages
and her resulting
depression.
But as Gonzalez told the INS, they decided to try one more time
for a child after
their divorce. According to Granma, they went for ``genetic counseling
services'' at
a specialized obstetrics hospital in Havana, faithfully following
their doctors'
complicated instructions. It was then Elian was born.
REMAINED FRIENDS
The two remained friends, visiting each other and effectively
sharing custody of
Elian, according to neighbors.
``Every weekend he was here to take the boy. Days during the week
he was here
to take the boy. At parties, he was here to see the boy,'' said
Alba Rodriguez
Garcia, who works at a drug store below Elisabeth's apartment.
Gonzalez even spoke well of her new boyfriend, Lazaro Munero,
who was to lead
the trip to the United States that killed them both.
``Even her present boyfriend would come here and talk to me and
eat here. My
parents also liked him a lot. I liked him also because he never
mistreated my son,
whom he loved very much and I appreciated that from him,'' Gonzalez
told the
INS.
Yet those kind words contradict later assertions by the Cuban
side of the family,
some of whose members alleged Munero abused Elisabeth and had
little regard
for Elian, allegations echoed by the Cuban government in a long
broadside
published in Granma.
If anything, the custody battle has brought Juan Miguel closer
to the Cuban
government. Upon arriving Thursday in Washington, D.C., Gonzalez
spoke
warmly of Ricardo Alarcon, president of Cuba's rubber-stamp National
Assembly,
as ``a friend or brother, giving me advice and support through
these days of pain
and uncertainty.''
Accompanied by his new wife and their 6-month old boy, Juan Miguel
Gonzalez
said he had come to claim what was rightfully his:
``We are Elian's true family and we love him very much.''
This report was supplemented by reporting in Cuba by Herald staff
writer Frances
Robles.
Copyright 2000 Miami Herald