The sunny—and therefore cheap—side of the bull ring at Zitácuaro overflowed with boisterous aficionados. Noisiest of all was a group of hard-bitten charcoal makers from the Michoacán hills who had stoked up well with charanda (cane alcohol) and come to see the toreros kill six bulls. “Long live Michoacán and her sons of Pancho Villa!” they bellowed.
As the first notes of the bullfight music sounded, one of the fans hurled a stocking filled with flour toward the arena, hit a Mexican army lieutenant squarely in the face. A soldier who tried to arrest the culprit quickly became a target for a volley of empty bottles and oranges. “It’s all in fun,” screamed the charcoal makers, “don’t arrest our brother.” At the height of the uproar another soldier, who had just put down a marijuana cigarette, calmly unslung his Mauser, fired point-blank at the yelling fans. An aficionado dropped with a bullet behind his ear.
The first soldier, believing an order to fire had been given, also started shooting. Another fan crumpled. Nearby, a woman screamed: “Assassins! Cowards!” She fell with a bullet through her left eye. Before it was over, three persons were dead, eight wounded, dozens injured. The toreros, who had come to Zitácuaro to kill bulls, slipped off quietly to their hotel.
Next day, 12,000 people paraded through Zitácuaro’s dusty streets, demanding punishment for the killings. The lieutenant and two soldiers were arrested; the Defense Ministry ordered them held pending a full investigation.
In the mountain village of San Martin Texmelucán, near Mexico City, three were killed and 100 injured when sunny-side bleachers collapsed under the stomping of excited bullfight fans.
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