What Price Glory?

BEFORE anything could be done, a special road had to be built from the nearest highway, and 800,000 tons of rocks had to be blasted out of the belly of the mountain. But to Generalissimo Franco in 1941 such obstacles were minor. Gradually, in the Valley of the Fallen, in memory of the million Spaniards killed during the Civil War, there rose the great monument and mausoleum where he and those who had died for the cause of "liberation" were to be buried.

Unlike the Pharaohs, Franco had no slaves for his pyramid, but he did have the next best thing. Political prisoners were brought to the Valley as laborers, until it was found that their inefficiency and subtle sabotage were more costly than regular workers. Since 1949, an average of 700 men have been working on the monument; at one point the number rose to 2.000. To keep everyone happy. Architect Diego Mendez paid them $2 a day, twice as much as they would have earned elsewhere.

Alabaster & Bronze. In Madrid the huge granite blocks were cut and then sent 28 miles northwest by truck to the Valley. On top of a rocky crest, a great white cross reached 500 ft. into the air. From artists' studios and artisans' workshops came statues of alabaster, doors of bronze, choir benches with medieval-style carvings, a main gate that alone cost $62,000. In 1956 the Valley was all but finished, but by that time it had begun to cause the Generalissimo considerable embarrassment.

Though the government insists that the $12 million spent on the Valley came mostly from voluntary gifts, Spaniards know better. Shopkeepers complain that government collectors had told them either to put up or shut down. Other Spaniards, traveling the nearby highway, grumbled about the tunnel five miles from the Valley that never got built; it was supposed to replace the treacherous mountain pass on which dozens of motorists lose their lives each year. While the big monument had all the men and machines it needed, nothing was available for the tunnel.

Down Went the Facade. To make matters worse, there was still the tricky question of just who was to be buried in the Valley of the Fallen. Franco had decreed that the dead or both sides should lie there. But his own Falange followers kicked up such a fuss that the matter had to be dropped (TIME, Sept. 22). With the public not at all in the mood for a dedication of the Valley, Franco began stalling for time.

Last summer Architect Mendez suddenly became dissatisfied with the facade. In came trucks, drills and cranes, and down came the whole row of archways. Mendez also objected to the four huge lamps in the sanctuary, but when new ones were bought he objected to them too. Last week a new set of lamps was being made, work was still under way on the facade, and there was still only one lonely candidate for burial there, the Caudillo himself.

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