Solid-Gold Car Sale

To the big cow barn in Buenos Aires' Rural Association fairground last week flocked the elite of Argentina: society women in Paris gowns, high-booted cattle ranchers, pin-striped nouveaux riches. On a raised runway in the middle of the barn, a professional auctioneer commanded all attention. At the rate of 72 a day--one every seven minutes during three sessions daily--the auctioneer sold new 1961 autos from Europe and Detroit. In the frantic bidding, a Fiat went for $7,000, a Ford station wagon for $15,000, a Buick for $23,000, a Cadillac for an incredible $50,000. When the ten-day auction ended, 617 cars had been sold, about $10 million had changed hands, and the government of Arturo Frondizi had cleaned up a tidy $7,500,000 in profits.

The government-sponsored auction was held to pay for this year's 150th anniversary celebration of Argentina's independence from Spain, but the bidders were not driven by overpowering patriotism. New imported cars, particularly those big shiny Detroit wagons, are almost impossible to get in austerity-conscious Argentina; import duty on foreign cars is 300%, and, except to diplomats, no import permits at all are issued for cars weighing more than 3,300 lbs. Argentines were simply seizing a rare opportunity to buy--no matter how high the bidding went.

It was not always so. In the duster-and-goggle days of 50 years ago, Argentines by the thousands lurched happily over unpaved cowpaths in Renaults, Packards, and Benzes. In the '20s, Model T Fords were assembled in Argentina, and in 1938, Buenos Aires, Latin America's most motorized city, held its "First International Auto Salon," featuring 60 of the latest models from around the world. Then came World War II, followed by Peron, protectionism and austerity. Argentina was gradually transformed into a land of jalopies, museum pieces and three-wheeled bubble buggies.

Not until last month, in the name of its independence anniversary binge, did Argentina get around to holding its second international auto show. In three weeks, the display drew 1,000,000 Argentines, who paid 50 pesos a head to see what they had been missing. The auction in the fourth and final week gave those with the price exactly what they wanted: the nouveaux riches got their flashy new status symbols, businessmen bought that company car and a tax write-off at the same time, and the government paid for its independence celebration. The opposition got something, too: an eight-cylinder issue to be used in twitting Arturo Frondizi's government for an austerity program that obliges the workers to tighten their belts, but permits the rich to blow millions on new cars.

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