For ten roistering, rampaging years, Francisco Villa, the cattle rustler and mule driver from Durango, was the joy and terror of the Mexican Revolution. "Pancho" Villa, Mexicans said, could "march 100 miles without stopping, live 100 days without food, go 100 nights without sleep, and kill 100 men without remorse." But by 1920, after fighting and looting across two-thirds of Mexico, leading howling cavalry charges to please a U.S. movie cameraman, burning the New Mexico town of Columbus, dodging General Pershing's avenging army and capturing Mexico City itself, Villa was outfought by the government's methodical General Alvaro Obregon. Surrendering at last and receiving a 25,000-acre ranch and 500,000 gold pesos, Villa settled down with 200 loyal guerrillas to farm the ranch, near the northern mining town of Parral.
"The Easiest Thing." Thereafter, one of the sights of Mexico was the lusty old brigand and two or three of his henchmen driving daily in his 1920 Overland touring car from Parral to the ranch. One day in 1923, General Motors Dealer Gabriel Chavez and some friends were standing before the agency show window as Pancho rattled past. The men scowled. Some had lost brothers killed by Villa, others remembered womenfolk carried away. Chavez said: "I wonder if anybody will dare let him have it?"
Growled broad-shouldered Jesus Salas Barrazas, who had never forgotten the pistol-whipping that Villa had once given him in a quarrel over a woman: "I would —for 50,000 pesos." Chavez did not have that much cash, but he mused that "collecting money from Villa's enemies to have him killed would be the easiest thing in the world." Within a month a fund of 100,000 pesos was subscribed.
Barrazas and his fellow conspirators watched Villa's daily auto rides, noted that he always slowed down at the school corner on the edge of town just before turning into the highway. They rented an old house across from the school. They paid a pumpkinseed vendor to stand beside a tree at the turn and shout "Viva Villa!"—once if the general rode in the front seat, twice if he rode in back.
"I'm Not a Murderer." On the morning of July 20, 1923, Villa was at the wheel of the Overland, joking with his pals and puffing on a corn-shuck cigarette as he drove up to the school corner. The pumpkinseed vendor lurched toward the road, shouted: "Viva Villa!" As the general raised a hand to salute, a ragged volley of rifle bullets riddled his fat body. He and one aide died instantly.
Jesus Salas Barrazas was sentenced to 20 years' imprisonment. After serving a month, he was freed and joined the army. Last week, a retired colonel at 63, Barrazas suffered a stroke in Mexico City. "I'm not a murderer. I rid humanity of a monster," he mumbled. Then he died, in bed.