A Day with the President

A pretty but sad-eyed teen-age girl hobbled on crutches into the office of the President of Brazil one day last week. President Joao Cafe Filho greeted her with a smile, pointed to a chair beside his ornate jacaranda-wood desk. Lucilla Carvalho sat down and told her story. Her leg had been amputated in an effort to halt cancer, and doctors had told her she would die unless she went to the U.S. for treatment. Could the President help?

"This is one thing I can do," said the President. "I wish I could always say yes." He jotted a note instructing the federal Cancer Institute to arrange a visit to the U.S. for Lucilla. "You will be well, my child," he said. "You will see a beautiful country, and maybe you'll marry an American. Send me a postcard from time to time." Hope gleamed in Lucilla's eyes.

Sympathy for a Poetess. Lucilla was one of more than 100 visitors who streamed into the President's office that day. Keeping up a practice he began while he was Brazil's Vice President. Cafe Filho opens his door to the public one day every week. Any Brazilian who wants to talk to the President simply goes to Cattete Palace in Rio and writes his name and address in a book. When his name comes up, a presidential aide summons him to the palace by telegram.

Most of the visitors are favor-seekers. Cafe Filho says no oftener than yes, but when he says no he usually manages to soothe the petitioner with a friendly smile or a tactful explanation.

A poetess seeking a job as a postmistress complained that poetry does not pay in Brazil. "Poetry does not pay in any country," said the President sympathetically. A former Senator asked for a special permit to bring in a U.S. automobile. Said Cafe Filho: "A man of your political standing is well aware that Brazil is starving for dollars. I know you, and I am sure you'll be happy to give up a pleasure in order to help Brazil." The Senator departed with the virtuous air of a man who had just made a sacrifice for his country.

A Promise for a Street Cleaner. Scornful of the old Brazilian custom of political favoritism, Cafe Filho always says no to visitors who ask his help in bypassing laws or civil-service regulations. To a salesman seeking a Foreign Ministry job, he said: "Apply and pass the examinations." A lawyer asked for a special import license. " No, it's against the law," said the President. "But it's always been done," protested the lawyer. "I am here to apply the law and you ask me to break it!" snapped Cafe Filho. His smile vanished, and his fist came down hard on the desk. " While I am President nothing will be done that is against the law and justice. Nothing--do you understand?" His voice softened. "Perhaps you cannot understand," he said. "It is not your fault. It is the fault of a system we are trying to change."

To the sick, the battered, the poor, Cafe Filho says yes whenever he can. Last week a petitioner haltingly complained that the authorities in his home town had refused to pay him for his work as a street cleaner; Cafe Filho promised to send a telegram to the town's mayor. He promised to obtain entry into an overcrowded sanatorium for a visitor racked with tuberculosis.

He discreetly signaled his secretary to slip a few banknotes into the palm of a ragged old man. If he cannot help the poor, the President is at least honest with them.

Several visitors asked for a place in the nonexistent low-cost housing project they had read about in the papers. Said the President: "They have fed you with lies. I'll tell you the truth. There are no houses available for the poor. There is only a cornerstone laid to the music of a brass band and then left there."

A Charm for the President. Not all are looking for favors. A radio repairman came in last week to offer the President a fanciful plan for balancing the national budget, an inventor showed him a drawing of a perpetual-motion machine.

The stream flowed steadily for 4 1/2 hours. When the last petitioner departed, Cafe Filho finally left the office for a late lunch. In the anteroom, he noticed a worn old man sitting quietly in a chair. It was the unpaid street cleaner. "Aren't you going home?" asked the President. " I am waiting for the mayor to answer your telegram," said the street cleaner. Cafe Filho turned his head away. "This is why I open my door to the little people," he said. "They trust me."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.