Pocket Revolution

The grass-tufted upcountry savannas of southern Guyana yield profits only to the rawest, roughest kind of rancher, but Ben Hart was that sort of man. Immigrating from South Dakota in the early 1900s, he married a half-breed of Amerindian-Scotch parentage and fathered six boys as tough as he. They tended their herds, sleeping in tree platforms at night to fend off attacks by pumas, and they carried water in buckets for the shade trees they planted. Before Hart died in 1961, they put together a spread of 185,000 leased acres, with buildings and ranch houses worth $200,000. Hart and his sons never gave up U.S. citizenship, and two of the boys served in the U.S. armed forces.

The flaw in this rude paradise was the government in faraway Georgetown, controlled by Negroes ever since Guyana won its independence from Britain three years ago. Jim and Harry Hart, the dominant brothers, feared the cancellation of their land lease, and feared it even more after last month's election consolidated the power of Forbes Burnham, Guyana's black Prime Minister. The Hart boys began to ponder the incredible idea of a homemade secessionist coup, one that would utilize the greediness of the bordering country, Venezuela.

Holiday Bazookas. For 70 years, Venezuela has lusted after the five-eighths of Guyana that lie between the border and the Essequibo River, which divides the little country north and south. The existing border is based on an arbitration sponsored by President Cleveland, which, when finally handed down in 1899, was largely favorable to the British. Venezuela disputes the decision with an ardor that has increased as smaller Guyana became an independent nation and after Venezuela itself built highways, a steel mill, an aluminum plant and what will eventually be one of the world's largest hydroelectric projects on its side of the boundary. The Venezuelans particularly covet the bauxite and manganese in the disputed area, and last year even built a military base on Guyanese territory as a step toward enforcing the claim.

Somehow the Harts and other white ranchers whose land is in the disputed area got together with the Venezuelan air force, and soon a Venezuelan plane landed at Harry Hart's ranch. About 40 ranchers flew off to a Venezuelan army training base, where they got automatic rifles, bazookas and instruction in how to use them. Just after New Year, the plane flew the rebels back to the Harts' domain, and the pocket revolution was on.

Ragtag Collection. Driving to the district capital of Lethem, the ranchers and some of their Amerindian employees struck at the airfield, where a 600-yard-long block of buildings houses the police station, power plant, post office and even a slaughterhouse. A cop ran from the station house, wrestled with Jim Hart for Hart's rifle; another rebel shot the cop from behind. When the shooting stopped, five policemen were dead. John Hawkins, a Protestant missionary from Texas, rushed to the airport and ran into Jim Hart. "We've talked enough --we're taking action," Hart shouted.

Someone managed to radio a report of the attack to Georgetown. In a ragtag collection of airplanes, about 226 of Guyana's 1,800-man defense force flew in and scattered the rebels. Guyana's ambassador to Venezuela, Novelist E. A. Braithwaite, handed the foreign ministry in Caracas a note written in words more angry than those of the gentle author of To Sir, With Love; the Venezuelans handed it back. As for the heirs of that old South Dakota pioneer, Ben Hart, they fled over the border to Venezuela. And the fine houses that the Harts built, under the trees they watered, were blackened heaps of ashes, burned down by the flamethrowers of Forbes Burnham's soldiers.

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