Havana: Dry Fountains and a Thirst for Power

Dry Fountains & a Thirst for Power Coincidentally, Camila Cabello‘s song “Havana” become popular as I was getting ready to visit Havana in April 2018. “Half of my heart is in Havana” is the first lyric. I left a part of my heart there, with the people. It was easy to do.

Within minutes of arriving in Havana, on the bus from the airport to our hotel, I noticed that there was no water in the city’s fountains. There are fountains aplenty, some of them rather spectacular, but they were all dry. And what is a fountain without water? In Havana’s case, a dry fountain is a metaphor for Cuba’s economy under Fidel and La Revolución. Dry fountains are among the countless contradictions that tell the complicated history of Havana since 1959.

A little over 100 years ago, developers, investors, and builders from Cuba, the U.S. and elsewhere had plenty of resources and reasons to build grand buildings in Havana and gorgeous fountains, too. A fine example happened to be in the hotel where I stayed, the fountain in the patio of the 1908 Hotel Sevilla (now Mercure Sevilla since a French hotel chain has invested in it). It features a Greek goddess who presumably, in better days, was bathed in flowing water for hours every day. Little green porcelain frogs still admire her from a perch on the fountain’s edge. She is set into a niche that could be part of an Italian antiquity, with fat swirling Italian Baroque columns holding up an ornate portico.

Havana’s pre-revolutionary 20th century architecture was extraordinary, with the emphasis on was. What has not collapsed into rubble from neglect, or been demolished by misguided government policies, remains extraordinary, but much of it is lost. Old Havana/Havana Vieja is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, so there have been ambitious efforts to preserve or restore buildings in that section of the city in recent years. But it is only one of 15 districts, representing just two square miles of the sprawling city. Throughout the entire city there are literally more than 1,000 structures age and small that fall in on themselves monthly in the rest of Havana, according to our tour guide. Not every building that collapses is an architectural gem, of course, but there are ruins of all types of buildings throughout Havana. Neglect, high humidity, and other reasons are to blame for the sad situation.

Right after the revolution began, people moved into buildings formerly used for purposes other than housing. Havana quickly became a city of squatters. That changed slowly over the years as the new government got established and began to repurpose buildings and move people according to Fidel’s “master plan.” The result, over time, in a humid climate with salty air, without adequate maintenance, is this urban decrepitude.

For about 60 years, until 1959, Cuban architects and others from around the world designed structures in Havana reflecting Neo Classic, Art Deco, Renaissance, Beaux Arts, Modern and other styles. It was a golden age for Cuba, for its architecture . . . and its fountains flowed.

In case you don’t already know, Havana was a playground for the rich and famous from the early 1900s through the 1940s and 1950s, when President Fulgenio Batista was in power, and right up until the Revolution began on New Year’s Eve, 1959 when Batista was forced out and capitalism came to a screeching halt.

At the time, Havana was called the Monte Carlo of the Americas. As long as the corrupt Batista got his share, film stars and wealthy night clubbers from around the world and others with money to burn loved to burn it at Havana’s hotels, casinos and nightclubs, owned and operated by American gangsters. All the fun was accompanied by Cuban music, Cuban rum, and Cuban cigars, all of which are still thriving, by the way, despite the general malaise of the Cuban economy. Somehow, what the tourists enjoy continues to thrive, despite the fact that the casinos, nightclubs, hotels and other dens of Capitalist iniquity were the

first places that Fidel shut down. (One of the very first things he did was to “nationalize” all the money in the casinos immediately! Mobster Meyer Lansky and his “staff” hurriedly stashed cash into their suitcases on that fatal New Year’s Eve and headed straight to the airport.)

Frank Sinatra had his favorite room on the third floor of the Hotel Nacional, an impressive edifice designed by the famous American architectural firm, McKim, Mead & White. It is nearly a replica of The Breakers in Palm Beach, Florida, including the alleé lined with royal palms leading to the entrance. When we had our welcome dinner in the hotel’s courtyard behind the hotel, complete with strolling peacocks, our waiter pointed out Old Blue Eyes’ room. Its balcony provided plenty of space for parties and access to several other rooms. The sixth floor of Hotel Mercure Sevilla was Al Capone’s favorite — and just happened to be the floor where I stayed. Al’s photo is still proudly displayed in the lobby.

Awkward! When he stayed there, I assume the fountain was flowing. Who knows? It may have been flowing with rum.

So why don’t Havana’s fountains flow anymore? The sad and disturbing truth is that the city’s water system is old and faulty and there are apparently not enough resources to fix it or replace it. Foreign investors are interested in hotels, but who wants to invest in aging infrastructure?

Hopefully, the current government of Cuba does, but I have no idea how they might pay for repair or replacement of the water system. Like so much of the rest of the country’s infrastructure, its economic system, and most of all its political system, it is failing. It offers the public a dis-service rather than a service. The water system cannot serve half the houses in the city on any given day, much less the fountains. Havana homes and apartments have running water every other day. (This does not apply to hotels where tourists are not expected to put up with such inconvenience. Still, we were without water for a few hours one day.) It is just one of countless inconveniences — injustices, really — that Cubans have to endure, thanks to the Revolution. Thanks to Fidel Castro.

Running water every other day.

Think about that! Viva la Revolución?

Still, there is one spot in the center of the city where the water flows uninterrupted, night and day. It’s a waterfall that flows down a steep bluff on a small island at a major intersection. The hill is crowned by oversized letters that spell Cuba, with the flag flying nearby. It is ironically reminiscent of the Hollywood sign atop its hill in Los Angeles, lit with floodlights night, representing what Fidel rebelled against. The Cuba sign is the only spot I saw where the water is always flowing.

Isn’t this a perfect metaphor for the Cuban revolution and Fidel’s vision, namely, that the people’s most basic needs, are unfulfilled, while the government flaunts the false message that everything is beautiful and wonderful and right in Cuba, even when it isn’t? OK, perhaps that was not exactly his vision, but that is what became the reality. Whatever Fidel’s vision was had more to do with his own insatiable thirst for power, rather than the common good and the needs of his fellow Cubans — even their thirst for water.

Otherwise, they would have it, every day, with enough for the fountains, too. Viva la Revolución? © Janice Valverde,

May 8, 2018 Tony Perrotte writes about the preservation effort in Olde Havana in the May 2018.) Smithsonian, and about Eusebio Leal, Havana’s official historian, the man who has been most instrumental in preserving and restoring Havana architecture) Also see Havana Modern: Twentieth-Century Architecture and Interiors, Michael Connors or The Splendor of Cuba: 450 Years of Architecture and Interiors by Michael Connors)