Illusion in Striped Pants

The Western Hemisphere was in motion. That motion, at the opening of the Conference of American Republics in Mexico City, fairly glittered with the comings & goings of Latin diplomats and their well-dressed ladies, with chatter in bars (mostly in Spanish with a sprinkling of English and Portuguese), with sonorous speeches at green baize tables, with huge Mexican midday dinners at Chapultepec Castle. Meantime the men of the Western Hemisphere got down to the hemisphere's business.

Ezequiel Padilla, Mexico's Foreign Minister, as host, was elected president of the conference. Tall, handsome Dr. Padilla, a philosophical proletarian, introduced some horse sense into the somewhat remote discussions of little nations v. the big powers:

"Frankly, to the worker that lives on the coffee plantations of Salvador or in the cattle-raising ranches of Uruguay, mere expressions of the juridical equality of nations have little reality. This may also be true of the farmers of the United States. If the ideal of Pan-Americanism is to become deeprooted, it is absolutely necessary to convert it into a factor of welfare and of concrete benefit for our people."

At week's end, the philosophical Foreign Minister took a dozen other foreign ministers to the Hipodromo de las Americas, Mexico's horse track backed by U.S. expatriate "Sell 'em" Ben Smith and President Manuel Avila Camacho's late brother, Maximino Avila Camacho. Result: Host Padilla, Colombia's Foreign Minister Alberto Lleras Camargo, Venezuela's Carraciolo Parra-Perez each lost 50 pesos on a long shot. Nicaragua's Guillermo Sevilla Sacasa won 500 pesos ($103) on two races.

Colombia's Lleras introduced the week's hottest resolution. Backed in principle by the U.S., it would bind all the signers to defend the boundaries and political independence of any American republic attacked from any quarter, within or without the Western Hemisphere. Tacit object: to create a combination in case Argentina should turn aggressor against Chile.

Juan Domingo Peron, Argentina's sobered Strong Man, was the Man Who Wasn't There. Uninvited because of its formerly pro-Axis, still anti-U.S. attitude, Argentina reappeared as often as Banquo's ghost. Everyone at Mexico City understood that Argentina, right or wrong, cannot be permanently ignored.

Galo Plaza Lasso, Ecuador's Ambassador to Washington, worked closely with the U.S. delegation. But he delighted correspondents by reviving that conference perennial, the striped-pants story. After reporters had smoked out a State Department memorandum recommending pin-striped pants, Ambassador Plaza announced: "I've told everyone in the U.S. that I've never worn them, and I certainly don't intend to start now." The A.P. quoted a conference wag:

"Stripes or no stripes on diplomatic trousers is idle debate. What counts is for everyone to keep them on."

Julian R. C`aceres, Honduras' bon vivant Ambassador to the U.S., the conference's Mr. Five-by-Five, graced the occasion. Dr. Caceres is famed for his ardor (but not always for his luck) at international crap-shooting.

Valentim Bougas of Brazil, President-Dictator Getulio Vargas' discreet financial negotiator, was active behind the scenes. Genial, foxy Sefior Bougas, a veteran of many conferences, tagged this one like the rest: "First comes the illusion, then disillusion, finally reality."

Pedro Le`ao Velloso, Brazil's Foreign Minister and head of its delegation, baldly declared that a prime purpose of the conference was to line up "a solid bloc of votes" for the forthcoming world security conference in San Francisco. Alarmed shushes greeted this un-bagging of an unseemly cat, which was all the more noticeable since Minister Velloso had flown up from Rio with U.S. Secretary of State Edward R. Stettinius Jr.

Ed Stettinius got off to an unhappy start, wound up the first sessions with a happy bang. Before the conference opened, he unfortunately committed the kind of blunders which often offend Latin Americans, sometimes make them think that the U.S. simply does not bother to learn its way around:

P: At Guatemala City's airport, Mr. Stettinius blithely asked for "the President." (Guatemala has no President just now--he fled before a revolution four months ago.) The Secretary did not improve matters by professing not to know that his State Department had just decided to recognize revolutionary Guatemala's hated enemy, Salvadoran Dictator Osmin Aguirre. But Ed Stettinius got what he was after, persuaded Guatemala's Foreign Minister Enrique Munoz Meany and Finance Minister Gabriel Orellana Hijo to accompany him to Mexico City.

P: Stepping from his four-engine transport at Mexico City's airport, Mr. Stettinius read a statement prepared by an aide: "The United States looks upon Mexico as a good "neighbor, a strong upholder of democratic traditions in this hemisphere, and a country we are proud to call our own." When "our own" popped out, Mr. Stettinius gasped, read bravely on. One of his functionaries hastily tried to repair the damage to Mexican pride, asked newsmen to make it read: "our friend."

Once at the conference, where the chips were down, Ed Stettinius did well. His formal address, otherwise not memorable, was replete with restrained good will and good sense. And his personal breeze and vigor won the delegates.

Nelson Rockefeller, Mr. Stettinius' No. 1 assistant on Latin American affairs, showed his growing know-how, his flair for Latin amenities. At one session Delegate Rockefeller even chatted happily with Mexican Artist Diego Rivera, whose proletarian murals were torn out of Manhattan's Rockefeller Center by Nelson's father twelve years ago. Artist Rivera, now planning a mural based on the conference, spent several hours sketching Ed Stettinius.

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