For nearly 30 years, Holden has been piloting ships through the 50-mile length of the Panama Canal. But that's all about to change—and not because he's ready to retire to the house that he and his wife, Judith, 61, own in Palm Harbor, Fla. On Dec. 31 the U.S. will formally cede ownership of the canal, built at a cost of $352 million and completed in 1914, to the Republic of Panama. The transfer, set in motion by the 1977 treaty signed by President Jimmy Carter, also signals the end of an idyllic existence for the thousands of Americans who lived in the 10-mile swath of land that was known as the Canal Zone. "It was utopia," says U.S. Ambassador to Panama Simon Ferro.
Zonies, as American residents were called, have lived in relative luxury, with tax breaks, subsidized rents, government crews that cut lawns and made household repairs free of charge, and their own markets, bowling alleys and theaters. But with the handover, so go the perks. Of the close to 20,000 Americans who once lived here, only a few hundred remain. Howard Toole, who owns the Golf & Cigar Depot, has lost most of his walk-in business but is sticking it out by doing more sales on the Internet. Without wellheeled American consumers, Toole is one of many who fear that the Panamanian economy will suffer. Even so, he feels that the handover is the right thing to do. "This is going to be an excellent experiment in Panama's young democracy," he says, "a time for them to show what they can do." Gloria Schulman, a sales manager, and her husband, Michael, a retired Army colonel, agree. Though they are reluctantly relocating to Omaha, "Panama needs to be its own country," Schulman says, "regardless of what happens after the turnover."
Holden won't miss Panama as much as he will guiding ships through difficult waters, a boyhood dream. A truck driver's son from Fall River, Mass., he was accepted into the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy after high school. Graduating in 1959, he was commissioned in the Naval reserve, went on active duty for eight months and was released to do maritime service. Civilian work appealed more since, he admits, "I was not much of the military type."
As a merchant third mate, Holden visited such exotic locales as Australia and Tahiti. It was in New Zealand in 1960 that he was set up on a blind date with Judith Ann Barnard, a distant relative of noted South African heart surgeon Christiaan Barnard. Because of Holden's travels, they were able to court only periodically over the next few years, finally marrying in 1965. "We actually spent about four weeks in each other's company, spread over from when we first met until we got married," says Holden. "But it seems to have worked out."
His wife will miss Panama more than the lifestyle. "It is a beautiful country," says Judith, who, like their children, Christine Ann, now 32, a teacher's aide in Palm Harbor, and son Robert Scott, 27, an airport supervisor in Texas, prefers the U.S., "but the canal was like living on a military base." Holden himself will hold out to the end, spending New Year's Eve aboard a ship, making the last of his more than 2,400 transits of the canal. "Quite often, if it's your last trip, they will blow the whistles," he says. "A salute: 'Goodbye. Happy retirement.' "
Nick Charles
Joseph Harmes in Panama
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