ARGENTINA: Shots & Loans

Tearing the bride (symbolically) from the bridegroom's arms is a merry old Argentine custom. Weddings wait not even on revolutions. In Buenos Aires last week—while the conquering revolutionist General José Francisco Uriburu was taking his oath as Provisional President ("by God, our Father, and the evangelical saints")—a smart wedding party feasted on champagne, prepared to "tear" the bride. Consequences were historic, bloody.

Tramp, tramp, clump, clump—pure chance brought a marching column of revolutionary troops abreast of the wedding whoopee. Tousled and valiant, bridegroom and bride were standing off their tipsy tormentors. To one hilarious wedding guest, possessor of a seven-shot pistol, the glorious moment clearly demanded noise. Into the air he blazed what sounded like a fusillade—bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!

Someone yelled "Counter revolution!" In a half-second the marching revolutionary troops sprang into action. Unlimbering their guns they raked the wedding fiesta, then, loyal to Provisional President Uriburu ("Idol of the Army"), they dashed for the nearby Plaza de Mayo (Government Square), eager to shoot up counter-revolutionaries who must be storming the Casa Rosada ("Pink House:" executive mansion).

On the roof of the Pink House perched watchful machine gunners. To their officer the sound of shots in a side street, then a pell-mell rush of troops into the Square, could mean only one thing. Rat-rat-rat-rattled and spat the machine guns.

As Death stalked across Plaza de Mayo, the loyal revolutionary troops supposed that counter-revolutionaries had already captured the Casa Rosada! Scrambling wildly for cover, they sniped back at the machine gunners. But, with every man behind a corner, monument or bit of roof, heads cleared, the mistake was realized, firing ceased in front of the Pink House.

Shotgun Toters. Elsewhere throughout frantically excited Buenos Aires firing had only begun. Supporters of ousted ex-President Hipólito Irigoyen seized whatever firearms came handy, swarmed into the streets with shotguns and hunting rifles, dashed about in motor cars proclaiming General Uriburu's overthrow— which they may or may not have believed.

The Navy, stanchly Uriburuist, fired a few shots up from the harbor for reasons obscure. Back came shrapnel from an equally Uriburuist artillery unit. One shell, bursting neatly on the deck of the destroyer Mendoza, obliterated an officer, silenced the Navy.

Roaring over Buenos Aires a mysterious plane rained down Communist leaflets— the only Red phase of the entire disturbance. Promptly an Uriburu pursuit plane whirred from its hangar, prepared to chase the Reds, cracked up on the flying field, spilled out pilot and gunner mortally wounded.

Buenos Aires was Bedlam. But steadily, methodically, hour after hour General Uriburu was bringing fresh troops from suburban garrisons into the Capital. With masterly skill he organized calm, drove the Irigoyenist shotgun-toters off the streets, proved that counter revolution worthy of the name had never existed, made himself highly popular with men of property.