Murder of a Salesman

MEXICO Murder of a Salesman

Genial Jose Gallostra was one of Franco Spain's key diplomatic salesmen in Latin America. Wherever he went--in Peru, Bolivia, Brazil and Mexico--he diligently peddled the doctrine of Hispanidad, the brotherhood of Spanish-speaking people.

As a good salesman, Gallostra loved tall stories and long draughts of golden Manzanilla wine; he made friends with Spanish refugees as well as with Franco-loving aristocrats in the new world. In Mexico, officially registered as a "tourist," Gallostra granted Spanish visas, even lent money to Mexicans and to resident and refugee Spaniards who wanted to visit Spain (and whose names weren't on the Franco blacklist). He dreamed and labored for the day when Mexico would break relations with the impotent republican exile regime and recognize Franco Spain. He got many anonymous telephone calls threatening him with death if he did not stop his negotiations. He told his friend, Mexico's Archbishop Luis Maria Martinez, about the threats, begged the archbishop to say a funeral mass for him if he were killed. He also wrote to a friend in Spain, asked him to send a pistol by air express. It did not arrive in time.

One day last week, as Gallostra sauntered from the Pennsylvania bar to his office in the Reforma's marble-trimmed Casa Latino Americana, he was accosted by two Spanish republican exiles. One was Cuban-born Salvador Fleitas Rouco, an anarchist soldier in the Spanish civil war; the other, Spanish-born Antonio Benitez.

The three men argued briefly about a visa for another exile who wanted to go to Spain. When Gallostra said he had given their friend money and a letter of recommendation, but could not give him a visa, Fleitas flared up. "That's just like you Franco swine," he shouted. Then he yanked out a .38 automatic and shot Gallostra in the stomach. As Gallostra doubled over, Fleitas switched the pistol to his left hand and shot him through the head. "I killed him!" he shouted.

Fleitas was quickly locked up in the capital's penitentiary, in cell block "H," called murderers' row. Now meek, he pleaded: "Be fair with me. I shot in self-defense." The police found no weapon on Gallostra.

Anti-refugee feeling surged hotly in the capital, as thousands shuffled past Gallostra's ornate coffin in the portrait gallery of the Spanish Casino. Relations between Mexico and the Spanish exiles sank to a new low. It seemed that in death, Star Salesman Gallostra might have brought Mexico and Franco Spain closer together, perhaps opening the way for recognition and the success of his mission.

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