Cuban Expatriate Finds Life Ticks Happily After Fleeing Castro’s Regime

Henry Fuhrer is a fourth-generation watchmaker from Cuba who refuses to allow himself the luxury of nostalgia.

In the deepest chambers of his memory, Fuhrer misses Cuba--the joy of its people, the sand of its beaches, the green of its fields and forests. But in 1964 he, like so many other Cubans, fled the country, never to return.

He objected--and objects--to the revolucion of Premier Fidel Castro, whom he suspected “from the beginning” as a “Communist sympathizer.” Fuhrer is angry that the Cuba he knew and loved is, like him, gone forever.

Never mind that many regarded the reign of Fulgencio Batista, Castro’s predecessor, as a violent, corrupt dictatorship. Never mind that many in Cuba felt oppressed. Fuhrer, 40, honestly believes that life was better then--not perfect, but better--and that Cuba has suffered since.

Like so many who immigrate to the United States, Fuhrer is a citizen in the truest sense of the word. He became one exactly five years to the day after he entered the country. For those not familiar with the laws of naturalized citizenship, that is the earliest he could become one. He could barely wait.

Fuhrer votes in every election. He cannot understand why some Americans would not “exercise the privilege.” If he has even one criticism of life in this country, it is that Americans are at times inexplicably apathetic.

Fuhrer can easily be engaged in political discussion, even argument. He is not just an admirer of President Reagan--he is almost a worshiper. He is not just a believer in free enterprise, the right of the working man to make a living--he is almost an evangelist for the cause.

“I’m not a materialist,” he said, sitting behind the counter of his jewelry store in the mall of the Union Bank Building downtown. “But you’ve got to give the working man a chance. In Cuba (after the revolution) we could have no cars, no decent clothes, not even a decent pair of shoes. There was nothing to work for. No, I am not a champion of communism.”

Fuhrer is a lean wiry man with impeccable taste in clothing and jewelry. He has curly black hair and wears a glittering gold bracelet, as shiny as any behind the counter. He mixes easily with his customers, most of whom seem to know him and regard him as a community fixture.

One man who stopped by on a recent afternoon is Fuhrer’s wife’s uncle.

Fuhrer won’t have to wait for grandchildren to have an audience for his amazing stories, as his wife has given him “two wonderful kids.” And there are many of them. He was only 18 when he left Havana; it took four years to get the Castro government’s permission. His sister already had gone; his parents left in 1966.

During his years in Cuba, post-revolution, he was subject to the exigencies of “the defenders of the revolution.” Theirs was an organization made up, he said, of “nothing but squealers. Any little thing and you got reported. It was persecution . . . harassment.”

A Disappointing Start

Fuhrer chose San Diego as a point of arrival since his sister was already here. He arrived under sponsorship by the Catholic Relief Organization and was utterly disappointed.

He had watched “old black-and-white movies for years” and was expecting to see an America of skyscrapers and vast urban stretches. San Diego, in 1964 with only the modest Home Federal building and the El Cortez Hotel able to catch the eye of a poor immigrant, merely heightened a sense of pathetic disillusionment. “America’s Finest City” seemed, Fuhrer said, hopelessly . . . empty .

A part-time job soon improved the mood of the man-child who, at that time, spoke nary a word of English. Suddenly, a little money, and the immigrant had new shoes, a cheap beat-up old car--but a car, nonetheless--and plenty of other wild and exciting new items strictly forbidden in Castro’s Cuba.

He got a job repairing watches in the Granger Building, netting $80 a week, paying rent of $20 a month including utilities. He played on the beach almost every day. He figured he had earned it.

Watchmaking is a family trait. Fuhrer’s great-grandfather had been a watchmaker in Hungary in the early 1870s. His grandfather later immigrated to Cuba, where Fuhrer learned the trade from his father. Watchmaking has never been a case of doing it because the family did it, he said. He did it--he does it--because he loves it.

After studying at watchmaking schools in New York and Switzerland, he came back to San Diego to work for the Jessop Co., then started his own business 14 years ago.

He likes America for having given him a chance. He likes the diversity of the country, the fact that a man with an Irish name (John Kennedy) can be President, that one with an Italian name (Gov. Mario Cuomo of New York) may be one day, and that a woman (Geraldine Ferraro) could have been vice president.

“We set the example for the world,” he said, inviting but not acknowledging (except with lively discussion) any criticism of the claim.

Despite his ultra-Americanism, which he says, “believe it or not, most immigrants share,” he still feels pangs of nostalgia for the old country in the Caribbean.

“I lead an American life style,” he said. “I married a good American lady. We have good American kids. But there are moments in my life that are very private. When they happen, they happen. Then I start thinking of the days past--the days of my childhood. But I have to stop. They are bittersweet moments, and I can’t choose to feel them too often. Because, basically, I am happy with things.

“I just can’t go back--not even in my mind.”