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That was asking too much. As the significance of the day's events sank in, tens of thousands of people in Port-au-Prince chanted jubilantly, "He flew away; he flew away!" Others proclaimed, "Vive America!" and waved the Stars and Stripes, as well as banners of red and blue, the colors of Haiti's flag before it was replaced in 1964 by Jean-Claude's father and predecessor as President-for-Life, Francois ("Papa Doc") Duvalier.
All too quickly the joyful atmosphere turned ugly as roving mobs tracked down Duvalier's henchmen. When one militiaman was spotted, the frenzied crowd tore off his uniform. Protesters throughout the capital called for "death to the Tonton Macoutes," the secret police that had protected the Duvalier family for 28 years. Terrified by the mob's fury, they tried to hide inside their barracks. A reporter claimed to have seen one Tonton Macoute, cornered by an angry crowd, shoot himself in the head. At week's end as many as 75 people reportedly had been killed.
Mobs of Haitians singled out monuments to the memory of Papa Doc for destruction. At the Leogane traffic circle south of Port-au-Prince, hundreds of people brought a commemorative ironwork structure crashing down. At the national cemetery in the capital, a mob tore apart the late dictator's marble- and-granite mausoleum. Although bodies in nearby crypts were disinterred, Papa Doc's remains were said to have been removed to safety. The tin-roofed house & on 22nd September Street, where the elder Duvalier had once lived, was stoned and set alight. Rampaging groups attacked properties owned by Michele Duvalier's father Ernest Bennett, who had used his government connections to make millions in coffee and imported automobiles. The frenzy ebbed when sirens signaled the approach of the curfew imposed by the new junta.
As a precaution, the U.S. embassy instructed the 6,000 Americans living in Haiti to stay indoors or keep a low profile until political passions cooled. The aircraft carrier U.S.S. America, en route to maneuvers in the Caribbean, was alerted in case a sudden evacuation of U.S. citizens became necessary. In the meantime, Haitians in the U.S. erupted in joyful--and occasionally destructive--demonstrations in several cities. In Miami's Little Haiti, many of the 60,000 Haitian refugees jammed the streets and shouted, "No more Duvalier!" In Boston, a group of revelers rampaged through the Haitian consulate, destroying portraits of the ex-President. In New York City, expatriate Haitians also released pent-up emotions at a demonstration on Saturday.
Around the world, reaction to the dramatic end of the Duvalier dynasty was one of almost uniform relief. Said President Reagan, hours after Duvalier had left and the new Haitian government had been installed: "We're waiting for them now to develop something to restore order." Declared Republican Senate Majority Leader Robert Dole bluntly: "I'm glad he's gone. Good riddance. I'm glad they had an airplane for him."
