By Madeline Baró Diaz
Miami Bureau

MIAMI · Ramón Saúl Sánchez can't sit down to a plate of chicken, black beans and rice at a Cuban restaurant without getting unsolicited advice.

"Take it easy," a fellow diner told him recently. "Go slow."

Sánchez laughed. He understood her concern. A week before he had wrapped up an 11-day hunger strike, wasting away on the nightly news.

It was nothing new for the Cuban exile activist known for dramatic protests, who has declared himself a follower of the nonviolent paths set by Gandhi and The Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.

That approach got him a concession from the White House this year and a federal court victory this week, solidifying his prominence in the Cuban-American community.

For years, Sánchez said he tried to get the Bush administration to listen to concerns about the wet foot/dry foot policy that has led to thousands of Cubans being repatriated in the past decade. When U.S. officials in January barred 15 Cubans who reached an abandoned Florida Keys bridge, Sánchez quit begging and quit eating.

The White House soon sent word to his bedside at a Little Havana memorial that they would meet with a delegation of Cuban-Americans. A second triumph came Tuesday when a federal judge ruled the decision to repatriate the Cubans was unreasonable and demanded the Department of Homeland Security try to bring the Cubans back.

"This is not a victory for us," Sánchez said. "This is a victory for justice."

Such statements are typical of Sánchez. No fiery rhetoric. He criticizes the Cuban government and the Bush administration alike.

"The Cuban people are trapped between a cruel dictator in Cuba and nonsense policies ... on this side of the Straits of Florida," said Sánchez, who came to the United States when he was 11.

As a teenager in Miami, he joined exiles training for an armed invasion of Cuba. In 1982, he went to prison because he refused to testify before a New York federal grand jury investigating an assassination attempt against Castro.

Behind bars, Sánchez decided violence was not the answer.

"I concluded that we needed to change our methods and we needed to change our attitude and we needed to change our message," he said.

In 1986 he was released, but his change of heart did not win everyone over. Today, exiles such as Rodolfo Frómeta of Comandos F-4 are still training for an armed struggle in Cuba. Sánchez is wrong, Frómeta says.

"You need gunshots to remove Fidel Castro from power," he said. "Anyone who wants a peaceful change is lying to themselves."

But some embraced the changeand in 1987, Sánchez founded the Cuban National Commission, pre-cursor to his current Democracy Movement. Traffic-clogging demonstrations and protest flotillas became the group's trademarks.

José Basulto, president of exile group Brothers to the Rescue, has been a Sánchez ally for years. In 1990, they were part of a flotilla organized by another exile group.

Basulto, who once fired a cannon into a crowded Havana hotel and later renounced violence, said that the flotilla was a sign that non-violence could work.

"We realized we weren't going to get anywhere by taking up arms," Basulto said.

Political analyst and sociologist Max Castro said Sánchez seems to have a knack for attracting media coverage, but that attention has not translated into influence in the exile community.

Sánchez began his hunger strike by pitching his tent near the Coast Guard's Miami Beach station, later moving to the Freedom Tower, before ending up on Calle Ocho.

Despite the attention he got, no supporters joined in his strike, Castro said.

"That doesn't bode very well for a mass movement," he said.

Sánchez does not make a living as an activist. He earns about $30,000 a year working for a developer of low-income housing. Democracy Movement operated on a budget of less than $25,000 last year, he said.

That means he relies on the kindness of people who admire what he's doing, like the attorneys who work pro bono for him and his organization.

"We believe in the non-violent approach that he's taken to the Cuba issue," said attorney Wilfredo Allen, who has known Sánchez for about eight years. "The future of the island will be built by people like him.''

Sánchez's devotion to the Cuba cause, however, has had its casualties, notably five failed marriages. Sánchez has never had children.

"I'm 51 already," he said. "Pretty soon I might not be able to have children and that's very sad. So I've got an additional reason why to struggle harder to end the dictatorship ... so that I can have my own life."

Madeline Baró Diaz can be reached at mbaro@sun-sentinel.com or 305-810-5007.

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