IN THE NEWSROOM
As Fidel rumors swirl, our newsroom plan awaits
The Cuba plan -- The Miami Herald's playbook for when the dictator dies
-- is my constant companion. Here's why I can't let it go.
BY MANNY GARCIA
magarcia@MiamiHerald.com
Manny Garcia is The Miami Herald's Senior Editor/News.
At Miami Herald Media Company, Fidel Castro is the journalistic
equivalent of a kidney stone -- a constant pain who never seems to go
away, and you pray that he passes, soon.
Castro is part of our collective newsroom psyche, even outside One
Herald Plaza.
You could be on an African safari when Fidel dies and you gotta come
home. Publisher's orders.
Everywhere I travel, I take ''the Cuba plan,'' a three-ring binder with
every possible scenario for when Fidel dies. Calling-tree diagrams. Bank
accounts. Satellite phones. Fixers. Fast boats.
The Cuba plan went on a Mediterranean cruise with my family. It's been
to Barcelona, Rome, Vancouver, Disney World -- even down North
Carolina's Nanthahala River -- safely tucked in a waterproof bag while
my son and I rafted.
Sad, huh?
You've gotta understand that the Cadaver-in-Chief is our story and
biggest challenge. The Cuban government will not give us a journalist's
visa to report from there, claiming we are the exile's lapdogs, which is
garbage. Meanwhile, some exiles call us Granma North.
So we sneak reporters into Cuba to write about what's going on. We don't
publish their bylines because it's dangerous, and you run the risk of
getting caught and hassled by the authorities.
While that's going on, we sit here at Mother Herald and prepare some
more for the Big Day.
We sit in meetings, long meetings, going over possible stories.
Phrasing. Tone. Length. We got at least five different versions of
Fidel's obit, pegged to the time of day or night he dies. We built a Web
page for the big day -- dubbed the `Holy (bleep) page.
We've got Castro plans in English and Spanish, as well as every
conceivable photo of Fidel: young, old, fatigue-clad, pajama-clad,
vegetative.
We stare at his tinted eyebrows. You've seen them -- a hue possibly
achieved only using abuela's Roux Fanci-Full rinse No. 52, Black Rage.
So we keep training and waiting for him to die. You've heard that joke
where Fidel outlives us all?
Well, he's outlived journos involved in cobbling out the earliest Cuba
plans. Others quit, retired or just figured they should enjoy life away
from the Cuba plan.
(On a positive note, Fidel was a great recruiting tool. ''Where would
you rather be when Castro dies?'' It worked!)
But we hang in there.
WORD OF MOUTH
On a recent night, the rumor mill kicked in full-throttle -- Fidel had
had a heart attack. He'd had a stroke. He's in a coma. Fifo is dead.
My friends call. My relatives call.
``Por fin se murió el hijo de la gran [prostituta]?''
``Did the son of the great [prostitute] finally die?''
I've never understood the ''great'' part of that phrase.
No, Fidel's apparently alive and in yet another track suit and slippers.
The Cuban government releases a photo of Fidel, this time with Argentine
President Cristina Fernández de Kirchner, who is holding his hand.
We stare at the photo. He looks no different from an abuelo you'd see at
Hialeah Hospital wearing the silk pajamas his nietos got him at the
Pembroke Lakes Mall -- except that this abuelo is a dictator.
'It's a friggin' wax dummy.''
``No man, he's looking better.''
``Please, it's Photoshopped! He's dead.''
FALSE ALARM
The truth is we don't know squat. So we polish up the Cuba plan some
more, send people to Cuba, call State Department sources who know even
less than we do. At all times, we try to act super smart and prepared
for Anders Gyllenhaal, our executive editor, who asks pointed questions.
``Is he dead?''
Not too long ago, Juan Tamayo, a long-suffering keeper of the Cuba plan,
sat in a room with us to see if we needed to scale back our ambitious
Cuba plan.
Fidel had refused to suddenly die -- a wonderful scenario, in a
journalistic sense, setting the stage for a fat Special Edition that
could be on the streets within hours.
You felt deflated. The kidney stone remained lodged. The old bastard
would find a way to hurt even our single-copy sales on his way to Hades.
http://www.miamiherald.com/news/issues_ideas/story/880787.html
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