It had been billed as an encounter between "the two last great autocrats of the 20th century". It precipitated the largest invasion of Cuba by Americans since the Bay of Pigs, though this time led by the men and women of the media. And, this time around, the Cubans hoped the invasion would prove every bit as humiliating for their Big Bad Neighbour as had the Bay of Pigs fiasco in 1961: the world would finally see the effects of US sanctions on their country.
Then along came Monica Lewinsky with her tapes and suddenly this encounter between two of the world's most recalcitrant septuagenarians no longer seemed quite as interesting. Sensing Clinton blood, US and Canadian TV companies called back all their heavy guns and the Pope's visit to Cuba gradually receded in their bulletins. "It was the last item on the news last night," remarked a frustrated Canadian newsman in Havana yesterday.
It looked as if President Fidel Castro's efforts to highlight US "genocide" in his country had been eclipsed.
Still, tomorrow is Sunday and it is just possible that the Mass at Plaza de la Revolucion in Havana, the setpiece highlight of this Papal visit, will again become the focus of blanket US attention. Dr Castro believes, as do many in Cuba, that the Pope will use this event to condemn US sanctions more forcefully than he has to date.
Meanwhile, Pope John Paul continues what can only be described as a triumphant four-day tour de force. Though the large gatherings to date may have lacked some of that spontaneous warmth he has excited elsewhere, he has had unbridled access to the Cuban media and has taken full advantage of this to hammer home the church's views on abortion, education and religious freedom.
He has done this on the back of extraordinary efforts by the Cuban authorities to get the crowds out, and instil in them some indication of just how important is this peculiarly dressed elderly man from Poland whom most of them had never heard of until recently. Indeed, for the vast majority of Cubans Catholicism belonged to history and was always associated with the Spanish, the powerful and the wealthy. Christians among the poor tended to belong to Protestant denominations. Then there are the many who belong to the penumbra occupied by Santeria, a peculiarly Cuban mixture of Catholicism and the Africa Yoruba brought in by black slaves in the 16th and 17th centuries. Its gods and godesses have been merged with Catholic saints. Ochun, godess of love and rivers, is associated with the island's patron saint, the Virgin de la Caridad del Cobre (the Virgin of the Charity of Copper), who will be crowned by the Pope in Santiago de Cuba later today.
This evening in Havana the Pope will also visit the sanctuary of St Lazarus, who in Santeria is associated with Ogun, the god of disease. Already there are indications that this Papal visit will have a deep and lasting effect on Cuba. It has given great encouragement and confidence to the island's Catholic faithful, which it is believed will lead them to demand access to the media, and freedom to hold processions and worship in public. Perhaps most important, Catholics believe it will hasten the day when they will have their own schools.
The feeling is now that they will be pushing an open door where Dr Castro is concerned; he will probably allow Catholicism become a civil alternative to the state in the years ahead.
This need has helped him to realise in Pope John Paul's commitment to social justice a common ground which could be helpful to Cuba. A shared need has helped both sides discover the importance of Father Felix Varela, one of the few priests to support the Cuban independence struggle, and whose words were spelt out in banners across the papal route from the airport on Wednesday. Pope John Paul paid a visit to Father Varela's tomb at the University of Havana last night. But for ordinary Cubans the visit is simply and solely about getting the US sanctions lifted. For that reason, they are very well disposed to the Pope. He is "Juan Pablo, amigo". They have posters of him on every pole in every street of every city he has visited. They have posters of himself and Dr Castro pasted to the walls of their homes.
The visit has brought colour, excitement and a rare celebrity and world attention into the lives of Cubans and they are enjoying that. All except Ray and Lenin, that is. ("Yes, that's my name," Lenin said, with a shake of his head).
On a pot-holed side-street off a newly tarmacadamed road they were selling cigars on the black market. The Pope's visit was interfering with their none-too-free trade. "There are two million people in Havana, and this week there are one million police," said an unhappy Ray. "There are 11 million people in Cuba, and do you know half of them are police?" he lamented as we emerged on to a main street where small groups of policemen were standing at corners. You could say he and Lenin were feeling a bit put upon.