ARGENTINA: Holiday

From the crowd jammed around Buenos Aires’ temporary arch of triumph on the wide Plaza de Mayo came a jubilant roar. It was like an echo of another crowd, just two years ago, that roared through the capital, forced Juan Domingo Perón’s return from exile and started him on his way to the presidency.

Many in the throng last week carried shirts nailed to poles, symbols of the descamisados or shirtless ones, as Perón affectionately calls the workers. Others waved placards depicting Perón and First Lady Eva. Peddlers hawked razor blades and other trinkets trademarked descami-sada. The peddlers knew it was good business. So did Perón.

Like an actor giving a cue, Perón appeared on the platform. He was wearing a coat. He had time only to say: “Shirtless companions” when the crowd shouted: “The coat, the coat!” Perón laughed, took it off and launched into a speech in his old rabble-rousing manner. He praised his regime, gently chided the workers for having stoned the building of oppositionist La Prensa on their way to the Plaza. Then, just before Government functionaries passed around cookies and candies as gifts from Evita, Perón declared the following day a holiday.

There had been too many holidays recently, and Perón knew it. At least five times in the last three months he had warned workers that he had done his best for them, that they must repay him by producing more. Government statistics told the story. Since 1943 employment had risen 15.9%, wages 121%; but man hours worked had gone up only 8%. Production on farm & factory was down, dollars were scarce, the official cost of living had increased 83%. Perón was the labor leader of Argentina; he had dumped the men who had organized the demonstrations two years ago, installed stooges to head labor unions. But three big strikes had been called, against his wishes, in the past three months.

If Perón is to make both ends meet, his descamisados will have to take off their shirts, and go to work.