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White House spokesmen denied that the Administration had had any such foreknowledge. There had been many rumors−with many different dates−of a possible coup, they insisted, but nothing solid had been known until La Moneda was actually stormed. In any case, the U.S. had not moved to alert Allende on the ground that to do so would have been interfering in the internal affairs of another nation. The explanation was obviously not strong enough to dispel the suspicion that the U.S. had played some part in engineering the Chilean President's overthrow.
Allende bore much of the blame for his own downfall. His socialist fiscal policies shattered Chile's economy instead of helping it. Always a net importer of food, the country had to import still more because Allende's land-reform programs reduced production. The government, as owner of the copper mines, was in deep trouble when world copper prices fell. Foreign reserves totaled $345 million when Allende took office; by the end of last year they had disappeared, and Chile was forced to plead for rescheduling of more than $2.5 billion in international debts. The country was so polarized in the end that Allende was under simultaneous attack by rightists for being too extreme and by leftists for being too timid.
Few Chileans were neutral about the President. Although their lavish lifestyle was only marginally diminished, the rich−5% of the population controlling 20% of its resources−despised him for seizing the property from which their wealth had come. The middle class, squeezed by inflation and plagued with shortages, was bitter and unreconcilable. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of Chileans left the country. Others who remained kept one-way airline tickets at hand just in case.
Still, Allende had plenty of admirers. Some were not even socialists, but sympathetic liberals who hoped that he could succeed in bridging the gulf between the poor and the wealthy. The poor, peasant and worker alike, idolized him. "I would be a hypocrite if I were to say that I am President of all Chileans," he once observed. They listened in awe as "Chicho" addressed them.
Allende slept only five hours a night and spent most of his waking hours wording. "To work for the people is really a pleasure," he once said grandiosely. Allende impressed visitors as a crisp administrator. He was a hard man but not a ruthless one. An American diplomat who knew him remarked that "when it comes to leaning on people to do something, Allende makes Lyndon Johnson look like a piker."
Despite his Marxist beliefs, Allende savored the good life. He drank Scotch, liked golf and was fond of good wines. In addition to his family home, he reportedly had a hideaway to which he would take cronies−and women−and barbecue steaks for them. Allende was a sophisticated but casual dresser who favored turtleneck sweaters even at work. In fact, he was reportedly wearing a white turtleneck when he died. After the fighting died down last week, the military government televised a film showing Allende's imposing wardrobe and shelves of imported liquor and foods. The implication was hard to miss: while his supporters had been queuing up, Allende had engaged in the kind of hoarding he railed against.