Settling In

Dressed in black, 300 women filed silently into a Lima plaza and laid wreaths before the statue of one of Peru's liberators. Jose de San Martin. "We are mourning the death of democracy," said one woman. A crowd of male spectators commenced chanting: "Liberty!"' "Down with militarism!" And then the riot police moved in with tear gas and truncheons. Ignoring the gas, the men fought back with fists, the women wielded handbags. A police water truck roared up to douse the demonstrators. "Cowards!" shrieked the enraged women. "Pigs!" Cried one defiantly: "Either we are true citizens or we lick boots!"

Strike That Failed. Lima's spunky senoras were lonely voices in Peru last week. Bitter anger may boil beneath the surface, but most Peruvians were taking care not to step on the boots of their country's new rulers. In its first days, the gold-braided military junta that overthrew President Manuel Prado two weeks ago firmly consolidated itself in power, and did it with comparative ease. However much Peruvians might resent the suspension of their constitutional processes, they seemed unwilling to risk bloodshed or civil war over it.

The first attempt to stir up resistance ended feebly. APRA, the leftist-turned-moderate party denied power in the June presidential elections, issued a call for a nationwide general strike that was to last until the presidency was restored. But Lima's electric lights continued to burn brightly, the buses rolled, most business went on as usual. Anti-APRA unions refused to honor the strike. More important, the generals in the palace were waging a shrewd, conciliatory campaign to win public acceptance.

"Give Us Time." As President of the junta, the military appointed General Manuel Perez Godoy, 59, a cavalryman with a folksy style. "This palace is the home of the nation," he chatted at a press conference, "but do not come too late at night, as I may be sleeping." Army Commander Nicolas Lindley was named Prime Minister. Air Force General Jesus Melgar, the new Agriculture Minister, quickly scored with consumers by persuading butchers to knock down meat prices. The generals reaffirmed their intention to hold a simon-pure election next June. There were even stories that APRA, with which the generals have been feuding for three decades, had agreed to a modus vivendi: APRA would be allowed to continue as a party so long as it attempted no outright subversion. To every hat-in-hand delegation of businessmen, politicians and labor leaders that visited the palace, Perez Godoy pleaded for "time, peace and help."

One who refused to be moved was U.S. Ambassador James Loeb, onetime executive secretary of Americans for Democratic Action (ADA). As a liberal democrat he was eager to see Peru show its support for the democratic principles of the Alliance for Progress, and it was he who recommended when the Peruvian junta took over that Kennedy suspend diplomatic relations and withhold aid. Washington promptly did so, partly out of fear that military brass in other Latin American countries might be tempted to follow the example of Argentina and Peru. Last week, as Peru's generals seemed in peaceful command of their country, President Kennedy called home Ambassador Loeb for "consultations," and the President was on the verge of easing up.

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