Central America's heady unrest swept into Nicaragua, rippled ominously around the white hilltop palace of Dictator Anastasio Somoza. In his spacious office, flanked by two ack-ack guns, a grand piano and a juke box, shrewd "Tacho" Somoza might well wonder if the jig were up. For seven years he had been Central America's most genial, least bloodthirsty dictator. But he had made all Nicaragua his racket, with opéra-bouffe trimmings. He had justified his record with a plaintive: "Godammit, I want to make sure that my family has enough to live on after...
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