The dreaded moment had arrived: John’s refuge in Carolina’s house was surely about to be discovered. A police raid on the house was imminent.
The four of them got into Carolina’s car, like two young couples returning to Lima, with Pedro driving. They drove slowly through Barranco and Miraflores – two other nice resorts on the way to Lima – and then along that new long avenue that Leguia had named after himself and which went right into the city centre. Whenever they saw any policemen, John stretched his hat down over his face and leant on Yolanda’s shoulder. Thankfully, it appeared the police had enough work looking out for Apristas, trade unionists and any other subversives, to mount road blocks specifically for John.
Pedro slowed down further as they approached the American embassy.
“Shit. Look at those police cars parked in front of the embassy – I’ve never seen them blocking the gate like that before. What the hell do we do now?” said Pedro as he stopped.
“Listen, Pedro, just drive up to the embassy slowly and when you get to the gate, drive on to the sidewalk and I’ll get out,” said John.
“Are you crazy, man? The police are right there: they’ll arrest you… maybe even shoot you,” said Pedro.
“Pedro – believe me. Do what I say.” Yolanda and Carolina stared at each other and then at John. They both thought Pedro was right but they’d just have to trust John.
And so, Pedro started up again and moved closer and closer to the embassy entrance gate. John looked at Yolanda, kissed her and she stroked his cheek, “Be very, very careful,” she sighed.
Closer and closer and, suddenly, Pedro swerved so quickly on to the sidewalk that he nearly ran over the US marine on duty at the gate.
The police reacted instantly, leaping out of their cars with their guns drawn, “Stop or we’ll shoot,” shouted a policeman.
Yolanda shrieked, Carolina gasped and Pedro cursed, holding their breath as the US marine on duty grabbed John’s arm, opened the gate and bundled him into the embassy compound.
“Gracias amigos. No problema. No problema,” said the US marine in broken Spanish, as he closed the gate again.
John picked himself up from the floor, unruffled his clothes, stuck his arm through the embassy railings and patted the marine outside on the shoulder.
“Thanks a million, Joe, I owe you another favour,” said John.
“That’s okay, John, but I guess I’ve just earned myself a one-way trip back to Texas,” said Joe chuckling, whilst he stood to attention at the gate.
John waved at his friends in the car, received a blown kiss from Yolanda, and saw Pedro handling the grief he was getting from the policemen. Anyway, as he walked into the embassy, he was happy to see Pedro driving away. Then, a sigh of relief – Sandra had received John’s message and forewarned Joe of his impending arrival.
The commotion at the gate aroused a number of embassy staff and Peter Bush was waiting as John came in through the door:
“John, welcome to home territory,” said Peter, with dissimulated irony, “you know you’ll never get away with this. Mr Randall has accused you of trying to kill him in Trujillo.”
“Kill him? Come on, Peter, Mr Randall just tripped, fell and broke his nose. I have a witness,” said John.
“And you know there’s an arrest warrant from the FBI charging you with manslaughter in Boston,” said Peter – there was no way he’d allow John to wriggle away. Peter smiled, despising John’s audacity at trying to outsmart him.
“We’ll have to see about that,” said John.
“Okay, guard, lead Mr Fitzgerald to his room and I want a sentry on duty outside his door around the clock,” said Peter.
Sandra, bless her, became John’s contact with the world outside the USA embassy in Lima. She volunteered to serve John his meals during his incarceration, and delivered and received messages from his friends outside – Pedro even didn’t mind Sandra accosting him as notes to John were exchanged: it was for a good cause.
Days went by and there was no clarification of John’s legal status: extradition to the USA for manslaughter or indictment in Peru on presumed assault on Mr Randall or whatever other accusation could be concocted? John’s lawyers, Yolanda and Pedro, were looking for strings to pull or loopholes to close.
Meanwhile, outside the embassy gates, Carlos Medelius assembled a group of black-shirts chanting against that ‘Yankee murderer’ hiding inside the American embassy and demanded he be handed over to the Peruvian police.
Finally, it arrived and Sandra smuggled it into John’s room-cum-cell. He smiled as he read the headline on The Washington Post’s press cutting, ‘Manslaughter charge on John Fitzgerald dropped’. Thanks, Mick, and I suppose thanks also to our Boston mayor: Mr James Crowley – I’ll vote for him at the next elections, thought John with a sigh of relief.
So, what now? Would Carlos and his black-shirts get their hands on John? If they did, anything could happen to him.
More days went by until John’s door was opened and the guard on duty announced he was to escort him to meet Mr Bush.
“Good morning, John, sit down,” said Peter frostily. “Now, you’ve given us a lot of trouble and the ambassador has instructed me to resolve this once and for all. We don’t want you and neither do the Peruvian authorities, so we’re getting rid of you. Here’s your one-way ticket on the Grace Line ship that leaves Callao next week. You can’t expect me to wish you ‘Good luck’. Good riddance is more appropriate,” said Peter in a huff.
John stood up, picked up his ticket, looked at it, patted the desk with it, put it in his pocket and said, “Yes, Peter: good riddance.” Then, he walked out without bothering to close the door.
Sandra, a good secretary alert to secrets, had anticipated what was coming and telephoned Pedro. As John walked out of the embassy – relieved to see the black-shirts weren’t on duty – he saw Carolina’s car waiting for him, with Yolanda and Pedro also inside.
A big kiss from Yolanda and hugs from Pedro and Carolina and they were on their way back to Chorrillos.
The joy of being together again dissipated after hearing John’s news. Looking into Yolanda’s eyes, John noticed a sombre mood taking over.
“Hey, what’s up?” said John.
She sniffled and looked away before collecting herself and saying, “What’s the date on that ticket to the USA?”
“Next week sometime,” said John smiling.
“Sometime?” said Yolanda, raising her voice angrily. Pedro and Carolina looked around at them.
“It doesn’t matter, Yoly: I’m not going,” said John.
“What do you mean? The Peruvian government is deporting you next week,” said Yolanda, groaning.
“They can’t… not now,” said John waiving a telegram.
With the surprised looks on their faces, John explained:
“Sandra gave me this telegram this morning. It’s from The Washington Post, appointing me as their correspondent for the west coast of South America and requesting protection and support from the American embassies and the governments of Peru, Chile, Bolivia and Ecuador. And so, I decided on a new plan. With the budget they’ve given me, I can open a small office and employ an assistant. So, Pedro, how would you like to be my colleague?”
“Sounds good to me,” said Pedro grinning.
“And Yolanda, I need you to help me write my first three reports: one will tell the inhumane and illegal treatment of Henry Richards on El Frontón and how the American embassy in Lima is doing nothing on his behalf; the second will be about the exploitation of sugar cane croppers in Peru; and the third, about the plight of poor children migrating from the Andes to Lima, as exemplified by Fortunato and Juanito,” said John, as Yolanda put her arms around him.
“Finally, and this must be a secret, Pedro can help me research into writing a book – with a long report in The Post – on that ‘New
World Order’ Randall is planning. The world needs to know, but we need proof, and we’ll get it,” said John.
Yolanda smiled at John as she went out with Carolina for a walk, leaving him to write to his father.
John reflected how Yolanda’s father had lost his family farm and ended up in Chicama, what, about thirty years ago? At the same time, John’s father would have left a life of deprivation in his home country Ireland and crossed the Atlantic Ocean to the USA, in search of his American dream.
Serafín and Desmond came from two completely different worlds and, yet, shared similarities. For centuries, in Peru, wealth had been in the hands of the Spanish conquerors and their descendants. It was their birth right: they would always be rich and powerful; and the peasants would always be poor. In Ireland, likewise, centuries ago, land was confiscated from the Irish and given to mostly absentee English landlords, with the Irish peasants condemned to poverty. If you were born rich you died rich; and if you were born poor…The world was like that. Nothing would change.
Yet, the 20th century did bring change. In industrialising countries, factories enticed peasants from the countryside to the city. Wanting to improve their conditions, industrial workers organised strikes and created new political parties, together with growing middle classes. Then, in Europe, the urban poor and rural farmworkers were swept into the Great War – millions died: what the hell for?
But in 1917 the Russian revolution shook the world. The Russian ruling class was swept away by a revolution after peasants and workers, tired of being butchered in a futile war, refused to return to the same poverty their forefathers had known. The world looked on in horror – but many in hope. And, far from Russia, a few years later, Desmond’s Ireland became independent from the British Empire.
Yes, something was changing. The poor no longer accepted that their poverty was pre-ordained and the rich would always be rich, almost by divine right. People no longer accepted being cannon fodder in senseless wars and conflicts.
As a historian, John had studied all this, but what did it mean for him and his future? Not long ago, he’d been an unemployed university student in the midst of the worst economic crisis the modern world had known. Those close to him had found their own ways out of poverty: his father found university work under the patronage of Mr Randall; Gerry Murray did well dabbling in risky financial deals, but paid for it with his life; and Mick Faughnan had fallen into the hands of criminals.
Now, John believed he’d found his own, better way out of poverty, when he’d been appointed correspondent of The Washington Post. He smiled as he recalled that dream, in which Father Joseph had given him a mission. Like their parents, Yolanda and John came from very different worlds, but were now looking forward to a future together. Their struggle with the Titans of the Pacific, and their acolytes, had only just begun.
Selected bibliography
The Titans of the Pacific and Blessed Assassination are historical novels – works of fiction, but deeply embedded in the fascinating history of Peru, Latin America and the world, during the dramatic period of the 1930s.
For readers interested in background history, society and politics of The Titans of the Pacific and Blessed Assassination, the following sources have been useful in my research (much in Spanish, although English translations may be available):
Adrianzén, Alberto (editor) – Pensamiento político peruano, 1930-1968 (Centro de Estudios y Promoción del Desarrollo)
Basadre, Jorge – Historia de la República del Perú (1822-1933)
Belaunde, Víctor Andrés – La realidad nacional
Brendon, Piers – The Dark Valley: a panorama of the 1930s
Ciccarelli, Orazio – The Sánchez-Cerro regimes in Peru,1930-1933 (University of Florida doctoral thesis)
Cótler, Julio – Clases, estado y nación en el Perú
De los Ríos, Manuel E. – La verdadera democracia
Drinot, Paulo & Knight, Alan – The Great Depression in Latin America
Foreign Relations (USA), 1930, Volume 3 – Revolution in Peru (correspondence between USA Secretary of State and Ambassador to Peru)
Foreign Relations (USA), 1935, Volume 4 – Preliminary discussions on a trade agreement between Peru and the United States (correspondence between USA Secretary of State and Ambassador to Peru)
Galbraith, John Kenneth – The Great Crash 1929
González Calleja, Eduardo – La derecha latinoamericana en busca de un modelo fascista: la limitada influencia del falangismo en el Perú
Halperin, Tulio –Historia contemporánea de América Latina
Haya de la Torre, Víctor Raúl – ¿Hacia dónde va el Aprismo?
Haya de la Torre, Víctor Raúl – Plan de acción (del APRA)
Haya de la Torre, Víctor Raúl – El antiimperialismo y el APRA
Hobsbawm, Eric – Age of Extremes (1914-1991)
Klarén, Peter – Formación de las haciendas azucareras y orígenes del APRA
Laos, Cipriano – Lima: la Ciudad de los Virreyes, 1928-1929
Mariátegui, José Carlos – Siete ensayos de interpretación de la realidad peruana
Miller, Rory – Empresas británicas, economía y política en el Perú (1850-1934)
Moore, Stephanie – The Japanese in multiracial Peru, 1899-1942 (University of California doctoral thesis)
Quijano, Aníbal – Imperialismo, clases sociales y estado en el Perú (1890-1930)
Quirós, Alfonso – Corrupt circles: a history of unbound graft in Peru
Sánchez, Luis Alberto – Testimonio personal: memorias de un peruano del siglo XX
Sánchez, Luis Alberto – El Perú: retrato de un país adolescente
Thorndike, Guillermo – El año de la barbarie: Perú, 1932
Thorpe, Rosemary & Bertram, Geoffrey – Peru: 1890-1977 – growth and policies in an open economy
Twomey, Michael – The 1930s depression in Latin America (University of Michigan)
The Titans of the Pacific Page 30