April Fools' Day 1958

On April 1, 1958, I was twenty-four years old and working in the public relations department of United Fruit Company on Pier 3, North River, New York. The North River was the Hudson, and the street Pier 3 was on was West Street at the tip of Manhattan. The pier was razed when the World Trade Center was built; the location is now called Battery Park City.

It was lunchtime. I was the only one in the office to answer the phones. Shortly after noon, the phone rang. The caller said he was Colonel Hubert Fauntleroy Julian, also known as the Black Eagle of Harlem. I had heard of him-everyone had heard of him. He was an infamous arms dealer, who, it was said, could provide not only the arms but also the armies of soldiers of fortune who knew how to use the arms, including cannons, aircraft, gunboats, and other matériel necessary to wage, and win, wars. Colonel Julian himself was a fighter pilot and soldier of fortune who had made his first big mark on his profession during the Ethiopian War. He so impressed the late Emperor Haile Selassie that he was given the contract to create the first Ethiopian Air Force, supplying the planes and training the pilots. He once challenged the German ace Hermann Goering to an aerial duel. He was smart, tough, and cool.

I have to admit I was impressed-me, talking to the Black Eagle of Harlem.

Colonel Hubert Fauntleroy Julian

He told me he asked the switchboard operator to connect him to the president of United Fruit Company, and she explained that the president was based in Boston and she thought he should start with me. He asked my name and said, "Tom, I would appreciate it if you would assist me in getting an important message to your president." His voice was cultivated, with a hint of a West Indian accent.

He explained that he represented some people who had a large amount of money in Cuba. He told me that Castro had placed a ceiling on what people could spend in that country, and that Cuba was in the process of converting from one kind of currency to another. I knew about the situation: The Batista regime had printed enormous quantities of paper money during its last few months in power; much of the money had been hoarded or expatriated by profiteers. Castro's plan was to switch from green currency to money printed in bright pink. The profiteers' money would become worthless, and hoarders still in Cuba would not be able to convert to the new paper without explaining how they happened to have so much hidden away. Nor could they make any large purchases.

Colonel Julian said that the people he represented wanted to sell their green currency to United Fruit Company, and we in turn would be able to distribute it through our weekly company payrolls on the island. I asked him how much money was involved. He said the amount was a hundred twenty million Cuban pesos, which at that time was traded at par with the American dollar. I took a deep breath. A hundred twenty million dollars is a lot of money now; it was an enormous amount of money then. He added that there would naturally be a substantial discount on the transaction: His people were willing to sell at a fraction of the money's face value.

I told him I would get back to him and then called Boston. At first, I was told the company had no interest and then that management wanted to think it over. A little while later, I was called back and told to turn down the offer.

Probably the element that made up management's mind was the risk. If it became known that United Fruit was involved in a plot to undermine the Cuban economy, who knew what consequence might follow? It was even conceivable that Castro would expropriate the company's land holdings and throw us off the island. Far-fetched, but possible.

Besides, the Cuban economy had already been turned into a house of cards under Fulgencio Batista, and all that remained was for it to collapse. History does not always make the fine distinctions between causes and their effects, and when Castro uncovered the real state of the country's finances, many economists in the United States were quick to say that Castro himself was responsible. But United Fruit knew that Batista and his cronies had stolen the guts out of the country, and doubtless realized that it would be too risky to involve United Fruit Company as an accomplice to the final act, despite the opportunity for profit.

I got my final call early the following morning. Before I had the chance to give Colonel Julian the company's answer he told me the thought had crossed his mind, after we had spoken the afternoon before, that perhaps I had not taken his message seriously because it was April Fools' Day.

I told him that had not been the case, but the company had decided to turn down his offer. He thanked me very graciously, and that was that.

I have often wondered since whether his friends were able to unload their money, or if they were stuck for a hundred twenty million dollars.