[Congressional Record Volume 140, Number 13 (Thursday, February 10, 1994)]
[Senate]
[Page S]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Printing Office [www.gpo.gov]


[Congressional Record: February 10, 1994]
From the Congressional Record Online via GPO Access [wais.access.gpo.gov]

 
                 ELENA DIAZ-VERSON AMOS: CUBAN PATRIOT

 Mr. HOLLINGS. Mr. President, Elena Diaz-Verson Amos is a grand 
woman, well known to many of us here in the Senate. We know her 
personally as a friend. We also know her as a passionate champion of 
restoring democracy and human rights in her native Cuba. Elena yields 
to no one in her dedication to liberating her homeland from the cancer 
of Castroism and communism. She has devoted her life to this goal, 
giving generously of her wealth, her time and her energy.
  A year ago, it was Elena Amos who donated money to buy the Cesna jet 
that pilot Orestes Lorenzo Perez used to fly into Cuba for the daring 
rescue of his wife and sons. Perez landed on a remote highway where his 
family was waiting, then eluded Cuban air defenses to fly them to 
freedom.
  Today, in the latest chapter of Elena Amos's crusade for a free Cuba, 
she has given sanctuary to the daughter and granddaughter of Fidel 
Castro. The daughter, Alina Fernandez Revuelta, recently escaped in 
disguise from Cuba. The granddaughter, Alina Maria, was later given 
permission to join her mother in the United States. The two of them are 
now living with Elena Amos in Columbus, GA.
  Mr. President, Elena Diaz-Verson is a Cuban patriot and a remarkable 
woman. I would like to share with my colleagues a profile of Elena 
published in the Washington Post on January 31 edition. I ask that it 
be reprinted in the Record.
  The profile follows:

              The Benefactress: Her Heart Belongs to Cuba

                            (By Gigi Anders)

       What is Elena Diaz-Verson Amos--a fabulously wealthy 67-
     year-old Cuban American lady who favors designs by Chanel--
     doing in Columbus, Ga., a town so provincial that you can't 
     even get a good cup of espresso?
       Don't be misled: Amos, who is playing host to Fidel 
     Castro's estranged daughter and granddaughter, has two other 
     homes. One is on Capitol Hill, where she can be close to any 
     legislative action affecting her beloved Cuba, and another is 
     in Florida, the epicenter of the tumultuous Cuban exile 
     community. And getting around is no problem for Amos; her 
     private plane is hangared at the Columbus airport. She stays 
     in Columbus because that's where her late husband built his 
     health insurance business, AFLA (American Family Life 
     Assurance Co.), the source of the wealth that she has put to 
     work as one of the leading warriors against Castro's Cuba. 
     Her son, 41, now runs the business, and her daughter, 39, 
     lives nearby.
       But Amos's heart remains in Cuba, a place she left 
     precisely 50 years ago. She attributes her dogged devotion to 
     the cause to her father, Salvador Diaz-Verson, a Miramar 
     journalist and early critic of communism. He didn't want his 
     only child to be ``brain-amputated by the propaganda'' of the 
     Cuban school system, and sent her off to college in America 
     in 1944. Two years later she was married to John Amos.
       ``My father raised me to be a fighter,'' she says, posed in 
     a regal armchair in her pale mauve library. She is elegant 
     and petite, a size 4 maybe. With her taut skin, high 
     cheekbones and perfectly painted face, she looks startlingly 
     pretty. Her fingernails are painted coral, but her fingers 
     are bent and gnarled with advanced arthritis. Tonight she's 
     wearing a silk emerald green-and-purple blouse with matching 
     green slacks, gold Chanel belt, tasteful gold jewelry and 
     black suede pumps.
       ``My parents stressed the dignity of human rights,'' she 
     continues. ``My paternal grandmother wrote poetry and always 
     said that freedom is not easy to achieve. She taught me 
     values.''
       But it was only recently that Amos dedicated herself full 
     time to Cuban issues. Why is she so exceptionally generous?
       ``I am doing this out of love for my Cuban homeland. The 
     whole situation of the Cuban people is a disgrace. I'm 
     ashamed of Fidel Castro and the human consequences of his 
     regime. Cuba is like a cancer, it destroys. And you have to 
     be healthy to fight this disease. What Fidel Castro has done 
     is not a crime, but a premeditated crime, fueled by cynicism 
     and hatred.''
       But she's housing the ``criminal's'' child and grandchild. 
     Isn't she at all ambivalent about her guests?
       ``No, not at all. For me, they are his victims, not his 
     family. Alina is not the daughter of Fidel. She rejected him 
     as her father, and that act takes a lot of valor. She's so 
     vulnerable now. Have you ever seen a sadder face? And I love 
     to watch this girl Alina Maria, because in her I can see that 
     goodness exists. She didn't get corrupted, yet she's 
     streetwise. . . .
       ``You know, I've always had the feeling that nothing gold 
     can stay. What lasts is one's education, music and art, 
     spiritually and what's inside the heart. What's truly 
     fascinating is to help others in need, to be of use. That's 
     what happiness is to me.''
       As for the apartment, it was built on top of AFLAC's 
     employee parking lot in the late '80s, when John Amos became 
     ill and needed to be closer to the office. He spent two 
     Christmases in his opulent new home before his death in 1990.
       It's some home. The grand and fragrant foyer has spotless 
     skylights, twinkling chandeliers and softly whirring ceiling 
     fans. There are chirping finches nesting inside a gilded 
     aviary set atop a faux terra cotta pedestal embossed with 
     cherubim. There are a caged trio of squawking parrots, a pair 
     of canaries, some birds of paradise. Only the stuffed 
     partridge squatting nearby is uncooped. Past the delicate 
     fernery, the bestial topiaries, past the mulberry ficus and 
     potted cactuses, past marvelous arrangements of begonias and 
     tulips and floribunda, are glass cases full of antique 
     Japanese dolls and free-standing human-size sculpted warrior 
     figures and Afro-Caribbean artwork on every wall.
       Teresita, Amos's daughter, bounces in with Tiffany, her 
     miniature toy Yorkie. Suddenly the air smells all perfumy.
       ``It's `360 degrees,' '' she explains, adjusting the 
     flamingo-pink plastic barrette on Tiffany's head. ``The Perry 
     Ellis scent.''
       ``It's nice, isn't it?'' Amos remarks.
       ``Yeah,'' Teresita replies. ``Tiffany really wears it 
     well.''
       ``You have to think responsibly about what may await you in 
     this life,'' Amos says, stroking Tiffany. ``When I first got 
     married, we had nothing. But it's gone well for us, thank 
     God. So to be able to help others with what I have is 
     natural. That's why it's such an honor, such a pleasure to 
     have Alina and Alina Maria stay here, for as long as they 
     want to. Others have always given me a helping hand when I 
     needed it. And I'm glad to be able to reciprocate. That's 
     what I get out of it.''

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