Haunted Theosophist

Early one afternoon last week the tiny, lush Republic of El Salvador (pop. 1,829,000) burst into sudden uproar. Rebels led by Colonel Tito Calvo seized the telephone exchange of the capital city (San Salvador), invaded two radio stations and broadcast the premature news that the Government had fallen. Many army units joined them. Most of the air force joined up, bombed the city. By night the rebels held nearly all of the capital except police headquarters and the fortress of El Zapote.

Dictator Maximiliano Hernandez Martinez was sunbathing when the revolt began. But he was not caught entirely off guard. His pervasive Gestapo had jailed opposition leaders and other citizens who objected a few weeks ago when he prolonged his tenure until 1949 and tightened his already arbitrary rule.

These precautions, his own cunning, and the inadequacy of his opponents saved him. Spectacular, destructive fighting raged for two days. Great fires spread in the city (casualties included the local office of the Coordinator of Inter-American Affairs). Then the rebels fled, or were killed or captured. Their airplanes ran out of gas or flew off to Honduras. Colonel Tito Calvo was reportedly captured and shot. Dr. Arturo Romero, Paris trained skin specialist and civilian leader of the revolt, may have found sanctuary in the Mexican Embassy.

Then the firing squads went to work.

Man of Blood. President Martinez is a mystic who came to power in 1931. He first won election as Vice President, then arranged an army revolt, kicked out the President and took over the country. A dark and slender Indian who calls himself a theosophist, he used to proclaim: "The invisible legions follow me." After twelve years of his rule, his countrymen are ready to believe it.

Shortly after he seized power, poverty-stricken, landlord-ridden peons revolted. Tattered peasant armies marched on the capital. The theosophist met them with shot & shell, screaming "Communists! Bolsheviks!" The U.S. Government believed him, sent the U.S. cruiser Rochester up from Panama, loaded with marines. Two Canadian destroyers and a British cruiser also appeared. When they reached El Salvador, the theosophist reported that the situation was well in hand; he had "liquidated 4,800 Bolsheviks." The visiting forces did not interfere. Before Mexico's intervention halted the blood bath, about 15,000 peons had been slaughtered.

Since then, Dictator Martinez has suppressed plots, kept order with the help of his high-paid army, his spies, and the richer landlords. He made headlines by being the first to recognize the Japanese puppet state of Manchukuo, and the Spanish regime of Francisco Franco. Otherwise he kept El Salvador out of the news.

Man Without Sleep. Martinez still takes council with his "invisible legions," calls himself "the Autodidact" (self-taught), and gives frequent radio lectures on anything from "applied psychoanalysis" to sociology. He knows little about such subjects and speaks in what his detractors call "basic Spanish." But his undulating words have a certain hypnotic effect upon his simpler subjects. Some of them believe that he can make himself invisible and eavesdrop upon their secret, often rebellious thoughts. The President does not sleep well, paces the Palace at night or wanders around the heavily guarded grounds. Many Salvadorans believe that he is haunted by the ghosts of the thousands he has had killed.

On the roof of the presidential Palace (with a lot of machine guns) are innumerable bottles of water being turned into "medicine" by the sun. The color of the glass determines the specific purpose. When one of the President's associates falls sick, Martinez prescribes a suitable bottle, and the patient invariably reports a miraculous cure. Such reports persuaded the President to treat his 13-year-old son for acute appendicitis. Operated upon too late, he died.

Last week Dictator Martinez surmounted the worst crisis of his career. His people are cowed again. His official relations with the U.S. are cordial (he judiciously declared war on the Axis the day after Pearl Harbor). Still secure in his fortress-palace, he paces his bedroom through the night while gun crews keep watch on the roof and new-made ghosts glare in through the windows.

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