The Shoulders We Stand On Inaugural Column, by Craig Schneider
Thursday, July 22, 2010 at 8:31AM 
From the State Library and Archives of FloridaJose Fueyo rolled over in bed and threw aside the paper thin sheet that he irrationally blamed for the puddle he was lying in. His mind was floating between the worlds of slumber & reality and though he knew something was bothering him he couldn’t do anything besides the obvious to remedy it.
The only thought he had was that the dense nighttime air of Tampa carried with it the sounds of life as if it were in the room next to him. He heard footsteps outside the front of his casita.
It was late on a Sunday night and he didn’t think twice about the fact that the noise was likely a neighbor strolling back home after another night at the domino table. He heard Esperanza, his wife, stir next to him and his mind lost track of what little reality it was grasping to.
The voices and footsteps caught him again just as he tried to welcome sleep one final time. “Basillo must be enjoying himself tonight.” He thought.
Jose’s neighbor, Basillo Parrondo, lived in the identical three room house next door. He too was a lector at one of the many bustling factories of Ybor City. Suddenly though, he knew it wasn’t Basillo enjoying himself that was disturbing his rest.
The footsteps he had been trying to ignore were in fact coming from the carriage walk and porch in front of his home. In the seconds since he first heard them, they made their way along with the 200 lb. thugs that created them, right to the entrance of his bedroom. Jose sat bolt upright, struggling to see past a blazing kerosene lamp, and slowly saw the outline of three men before him. Two were taller with more distinct, lighter facial features than himself and one smaller man fidgeting as if he was struggling with what he was about to say.
The two larger men’s frames came into focus to reveal the starched uniform of local police officers. They spoke commandingly in the language Jose had heard in his travels throughout the United States but were not giving him enough time to decipher what they meant. It didn’t matter though because before Jose or his now wide awake wife Esperanza and their two children could react, the nervous man whose appearance was distinctly Latin, muttered a translation. “Jose Fueyo. You are ordered to follow these men immediately.”
Despite the pleading of a petrified wife and the screams of two young children, the officers didn’t give any more information. Jose knew to normally expect a warrant when dealing with the law. When these men entered his home under cover of darkness and without any apparent justification, he understood that it wasn’t a good thing. He was beginning to get worried.
As he was assisted out of the small bedroom he turned back with the hope of catching a glimpse of strength in his wife’s eyes. What he saw was a look of sheer terror. It was an image that would haunt him over the coming months, as it was the last image he would have of her for quite some time.
Jose Fueyo was my 2nd great-grandfather. The evening described above is a tale that has been passed down through the generations of my family since the event occurred nearly 109 years ago. It is the beginning of an even more fascinating international tale that has its roots in the Cuban American cigar industry and blossomed into an international affair with the story disseminated above in Tampa. Depending on whom you ask, the initial events may have even been more fantastic than those shared. Alas, in an attempt to remove years of family pomp, I have tracked down information from numerous historically recorded items to whittle away at the true account below it.
What is known for sure is that the abduction did take place. Whether it happened exactly as described above to Jose Fueyo (Fway-yo), the world will never know. The specific details of this account are from a letter written by the wife of another abductee on Saturday, August 10th 1901, four days after the abductions. The passionate retelling was included as part of a plea to the governor of Florida for the release of those taken. There were 15 kidnappings in all and though it is doubtful that it was a result of this plea, two men were released before long. Later reports in the Tampa Tribune commented that only one member of “La Resistencia” was able to evade capture. The gentleman, Jose Padilla, was said to have gotten wind of the abductions just prior to the would-be kidnappers finding his home.
In the United States at that time labor unions were starting to emerge as a key way for employees in different industries to start demanding better working conditions and benefits. Considering the advent of the cigar rolling machine in 1883, Ybor City was experiencing quite the uprising of discontent amongst those in the industry. Since four in five American men smoked at least one cigar a day in 1901, there was an unbelievable demand for clear Havana cigars at the start of the 20th century.
From the men who were released after the kidnappings, nothing definitive was ever established as to why the 16 coveted victims were singled out. They were said to be “…men whose names appeared on a list of twenty-one ‘cigar strike agitators.’” But what got them there? Any reasoning or justification for why they were taken was thought to be a direct result of the ongoing labor disputes between wealthy cigar barons and those standing up for roller’s rights. Was my grandfather included in that list only because he was a lector or was he organizing those who listened to him read on a daily basis? If that was so, what was it that provoked him to act against his employer?
The money in owning a cigar factory at that time must have been staggering. Without modern workplace regulations, child labor laws or even the 5-day work week, owners were said to horribly abuse their staff. Whether that is Cuban animosity passed down through the generations in Tampa or truth, you can be your own judge. The reality of the situation is that cigar production peaked at over 500 million a year in early 20th century Tampa. Without powerful opposition, owners may have easily been clouded by visions of dollar signs.
The case with the strike of 1901 seemed to involve more than just money or better conditions. It seems the men like Jose Fueyo who were deemed “agitators” may have been standing up for not just their fellow employees, but the men, women and children who called Tampa their home. The owners, it seemed, were conspiring to change the face (and location) of the cigar industry forever. Without the 13 captive members of “La Resistencia” what we all know Ybor City for today may never have come to pass.
Reader Comments (2)
Nice article, Craig. Looking forward to more!
Interesting. Mark McGinty fictionalises this incident in his book The Cigar Maker, where the kidnapped unionists end up deported to South America. The Cigar Maker was an interesting read, but IMO more for the projected historical images than the dramaturgy.