Lowering the Union Jack

In the buccaneering days of the 17th century, Jamaica was the lustiest port of call on the Spanish Main. Out of old Port Royal, in its time the "wickedest city in Christendom," Henry Morgan and his marauding mates sailed to wreck and plunder. On their return, the pirates swaggered through the narrow streets with barrels of rum on their shoulders, harlots on their arms, daggers in their belts and ill-gotten pieces of eight in their pockets. An appalled visitor once described it as a place where "the body of a murdered man would remain in a dancing room until the dancing was over. Gold and precious stones were cheap, but life was cheaper." A Royal Tear. In 1692 an earthquake shook Port Royal into oblivion. Morgan's skull-and-crossbones flies no more, and now Jamaica has a new green, gold and black flag of its own to fly. Last week, after 307 years of British rule, the Caribbean island's 1,600,000 people celebrated their independence and became the hemisphere's first new nation since Panama gained freedom 59 years ago.

On hand to impart a royal flavor was Princess Margaret, a tear glistening in her eye as the Union Jack was hauled down for the last time. By sending the Queen's sister to the ceremony, Britain made it warmly plain that no hard feelings linger from Jamaica's abrupt rejection last year of the London-fostered West Indies Federation. Independent Jamaica has been assured a place in the Commonwealth.

From the U.S. came Vice President Lyndon Johnson, drawling greetings from President Kennedy. L.B.J. shook all hands in reach, passed out little American and Jamaican flags, talked help. Both British and U.S. officials pledged to help Jamaica get two essential credentials of nationhood --membership in the U.N. and in the Organization of American States.

An Old Proverb. Behind Jamaica's pomp lay some sorrier economic circumstances. Despite its fairly high--for the Caribbean--per capita income of $359, the country has a pressing want list for low-cost housing, sanitation and water systems, hospitals and roads. All through the week's celebrations, Jamaica's Premier, craggy-faced, white-haired Sir Alexander Bustamante, courted Johnson with extravagant words and gracious gestures, talked endlessly of U.S.-Jamaican solidarity, even offered to let the U.S. set up military bases on the island "when and if it pleases." British and U.S. aid programs are already in the works for housing and water projects: the U.S. will put up $2,200,000 as a loan, and the British will lend another $3,700,000 in cash and hand over some War Office land.

Before spry old Busta went off to Montego Bay, where he drank champagne, danced the twist and played the banjo at an all-night post-independence bash, he made it clear that Jamaica will remain in the orbit of the free world. "We are pro-American," he said staunchly. But he ducked questions about possible trade and diplomatic relations with Cuba, only 90 miles to the north. Perhaps he had in mind an old Jamaican proverb: "No cuss alligator' long mout' till you cross riber."

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