CHILE: Rusty Revolver

Square and sober is Col. Carlos Ibanez, glum Dictator-President of Chile. Last week he plodded through the stalls of Santiago’s national cattle show, gazed owl-solemn at placid Guernseys and mottled Ayrshires, then left, still dignified and stately.

Less sure of himself was another Chilean, 20-year-old Luis Ramirez Olachea, who hid nervously behind a tree while President Ibaez inspected cows. As SeÑor IbaÑez made his august emergence, Luis Olachea stumbled uncertainly through the ranks of saluting soldiery, ran forward, waving a rusty revolver. President Ibaez fixed him with an icy stare.

The trigger clicked once, twice, three times, but no explosion, no bullet belched from the rusty weapon. From icy bravery the President’s look changed to icy contempt.

Hot valor surged, however, in the breast of the Dictator’s trim aide-de-camp, Victor Larenas. Careless of spoiling his gaudy green uniform, he rushed up to amateur assassin Olachea, grasped him by the neck, flung him to the ground.

“Do not hurt him,” boomed President IbaÑez, “merely arrest him. Tie him up!” Willing cattle-show officials hastened forward with cow halters and tethers. Securely trussed, Luis Olachea was bundled in an automobile. Aide-de-camp Larenas picked up his helmet, dusted his knees. Still the dignified dictator, President IbaÑez moved on.

“There is no doubt,” editorialized Santiago’s La Nation, “that yesterday’s criminal act has given President IbaÑez a new popularity in the public mind, similar to a great extent to that occasioned for the Italian Premier after the various unsuccessful attacks against him.”