On June 30, 1945, Juan Peron summoned U.S. ambassador Spruille Braden to his office in the Casa Rosada. Unlike their previous encounters since Braden's arrival in Buenos Aires -- when Peron greeted Braden with warm abrazos and effusive professions of friendship -- the Argentine leader received his guest frigidly, without even a handshake. "Sit down," he snapped.

"There is a movement and movements to overthrow me," Peron began, "and we will not stand for it. If these groups try anything we will fight in the streets and blood will flow."

That was very interesting, Braden replied, but what did that have to do with Argentine-United States relations?

"It has to do with them because your journalists form a part of these movements."

Braden protested that the American reporters had nothing to do with the opposition, but Peron was adamant. His supporters, he went on, were "enraged" by the attacks on the regime in the U.S. press: so enraged that "in their fanatical adoration for me they are entirely capable of murdering [Arnaldo] Cortesi [the New York Times correspondent] or anyone they think stands in their way."

Shuddering in disgust and disbelief at Peron's only faintly veiled threat, Braden made it clear that any attack on Cortesi or any other correspondent would have "serious repercussions on friendly relations between Argentina and the U.S." To this, Peron responded that of course he knew who these fanatics were and would keep them under observation. But he "could not guarantee that some fanatic from the country would not kill Cortesi and then commit suicide."

As soon as he emerged, shaken, from this interview, Braden contacted Cortesi and the other American reporters and offered them sanctuary in the U.S. embassy. Then he fired off a cable to his superiors in Washington: "Peron's astonishing outburst . . . confirms he is dangerous . . . I recommend that Dept. read riot act to Argentine Ambassador and I be instructed specifically and in detail to make similar protest here."

Braden's missive was quickly brought to the attention of James Byrnes. In one of his first acts as secretary of state, Byrnes dispatched a telegram to his ambassador: "You are instructed to call on Colonel Peron and to state that this Government takes a very grave view of the implications in Colonel Peron's statement that the lives of American citizens and representatives of reputable American newspapers are in danger and that they cannot be protected by the Argentine Government; that this government expects the Argentine Government to give categorical assurances that they will take all requisite measures to guard the safety of the American correspondents . . . ."

Had all this happened even a month earlier, Rockefeller [as assistant secretary of state for Latin America] might have pooh-poohed the whole affair as so much empty posturing by Peron. He might have repeated his customary words of caution about interference in another country's internal affairs. But this time there were no such admonitions. Perhaps it was because of the precariousness of his own position, and the realization that the policy drift, under Byrnes, was now moving away from him. Or perhaps it was a recognition that in heedlessly threatening American nationals and the American press, Peron had finally stepped over the line.

Whatever the reason, the first faint notes of a new tune could be heard from the assistant secretary. Instead of restraining Braden or cautioning him, Rockefeller phoned the ambassador and pronounced himself "simply delighted" with how Braden was handling the situation.

cjr  |  archive  |  resources  |  contact  |  search  |  subscribe