Finally, Mr. Nixon turned to me and asked me what my views were inasmuch as I had lived for many years in South America and should know local conditions. I replied that in different countries different things were important. In France or Brazil, the greatest virtue was to be thought intelligent and the greatest vice was to be thought stupid, but in any country where Spanish was spoken, the greatest virtue was personal courage and the greatest vice was to be thought a coward.
From a distance as we approached the university, we could see that there were sev¬ eral thousand people massed in front of the buildings. As we got closer we noticed that a number of the students seemed well into their thirties. Our car came to a stop in front of them and there immediately arose a loud chorus of boos and catcalls. Many of the students were carrying banners or signs reading nixon out in Spanish; another in English said go home Nixon, still another Yankee out.The hostile shouts were loud and the Vice-President realized that he could not drown them out. We were in a convertible and he told me to stand up and to ask them in Spanish whether they were willing to listen to him or not. I did so, shouting at the top of my voice in order to make myself heard above the tumult. The answer was an even louder chorus of boos and catcalls. Nixon then said to me, “Ask them whether they believe in the old university tradition of hearing both sides of a question discussed and then making up their minds.” I repeated this in Spanish at the top of my voice. Again came the cries of derision. Mr. Nixon stood up in the car and told me to come with him. He stepped out of the car and walked into the middle of the jeering crowd. The stu¬ dents, the police and I were all taken aback by this. The police started to push and Nixon asked me how to say “don’t push” in Spanish. I told him and he said it frequently to the police. As he moved into the crowd of booing students, he held out his hand. It was interesting to watch the sheepish grins of admira¬ tion for his courage that spread over the faces of many students who stepped forward to shake his hand. More students then crowded around to try and shake hands with him. The police started to push them back and Nixon told them not to. Some of the students then told Mr. Nixon that they had nothing against him personally. It was American imperialism that they opposed. I was astonished at the impact of his willingness to move among them. Those farther away who could not see or hear w'hat w'as happening began to throw small stones and some fruit and eggs toward the place where they thought he was. The students within reach were busy shaking hands with him. As the first mis¬ siles began landing close to us, I whispered to Mr. Nixon, “Mr. Vice-President, thev are throwing some stones and fruit at us.” He replied, equally in a whisper, “I know and we will move soon, but our exit has to be slow’ and dignified.we could have gotten into the university would have been to use force. This had been ruled out by Mr. Nixon. We then began to move slowly back toward the car. I was in uniform and to my astonishment quite a few of the students shook my hand, saying, “El gringo tiene cojones” (“The Yankee has balls”), about as high a tribute as can be paid in Spanish.We then began driving slowly away from the university and back toward the hotel. This was the plan that had been agreed upon beforehand in case it proved impossible to get into the university. Mr. Nixon was plainly irritated and disappointed by the intolerance he had just witnessed.afraid of them.” While we were having this exchange, we passed some large buildings and he asked what they were. I replied that they were the buildings of the Catholic University, the other great university in Lima.Suddenly Mr. Nixon said sharply, “Stop the car.” The vehicle stopped and the Peruvian police and the Secret Service looked expectantly at the Vice-President. He told me to come with him and stepped out of the car and walked up the steps of what was obviously the main building. We had not been scheduled to make a stop here and there was, of course, no one to meet us. Mr. Nixon walked rapidly, almost running, up the steps and into the lobby. There was no one there except a few startled stu¬ dents. He climbed a flight of stairs and opened the door of a classroom. A lecture was under way and a startled professor and students looked up at us in evident surprise. The professor stopped talking as he recognized the American Vice-President. Mr. Nixon held up his hand and said, “I have just come from the University of San Marcos and I found that there they do not believe in the old university tradition of hearing all sides of a question discussed. I will only be in Lima for one more day and I just wanted to know whether this was also true at the Catholic University.” I translated this at once into Spanish and almost to a man the students rushed toward him and to the dismay of the Peruvian police and Secret Service, who had caught up with us, they hoisted him onto their shoulders with shouts of “Viva Nixon,” “Viva los Estados Unidos.” I tried to stay as close to him as I could, interpreting the friendly exchanges between him and the students who were carrying or escorting him. The delighted professor was also moving along with us. Trium¬ phantly, they carried him back to his car and let him down to the ground. Their action had already given him the answer to his question. He exchanged some pleasantries with them and told them that he was delighted to find at the Catholic University a tolerance he had not found at the older university. The students roared their approval as I put this into Spanish. With a final wave, Mr. Nixon re-entered his car.
Onto Venezuela, the police there did nothing to stop the mob which attacked the car which Vice President Nixon was riding in. He was covered in spit by the mob, and informed the Venezuelan foreign minister who was making excuses "for the air of freedom the protestors were exhibiting", if they did not do something to crack down on the violent mobs, they were going to have a dictators they could not believe.
The foreign minister a few minutes later was pissing himself as he was now the target of the mob, expressing their air of freedom.
Mr. Nixon was right then and Venezuela has been a dictatorial leftist shit hole ever since.
Driving in front of us were several cars. A large truck filled with the press and photographers was directly in front of us. Just as we ap¬ proached the edge of Caracas, two abandoned cars were parked across the superhighway. The island in the center was so high that one could not cross to the other lane. The truck in front of us stopped and we stopped. As we did so, a large crowd came out of the bushes on both sides of the roads carrying baseball bats, lead pipes and stones. We had a motorcycle escort, but it has never been quite clear in my mind where they disappeared to but disappear they did. The mob then began beating on the car with these lead pipes and baseball bats, and sitting inside a closed car with people beating on it is like being inside a bass drum. The Vice-President remained extraordinarily calm. From the car in back of us Mrs. Nixon was watching the proceedings, several Secret Service agents moved up around our car and at¬ tempted to protect it without harming the Venezuelans, but try¬ ing to keep them away while they were jabbing at the windows attempting to smash them.
The Secret Service agent next to me on the jump seat drew his gun and said, “Let’s kill some of these sons of bitches and get out of here.” Mr. Nixon, very calm and very composed, said to him, “Put that away. You take it out when they open the door and grab for me, and not before. You don’t shoot unless I tell you to do so.” The agent complied and put away his gun.
Meanwhile, the contorted faces outside the windows of the car were really something to behold. The rage, hatred, venom and viciousness were almost terrifying. I saw a man’s coat fly open and a pistol drop to the ground. I did not know whether he was one of the agitators or whether he was one of the police. Eventually, it turned out it was one of the police, but he was making no particular effort to protect us from the vicious mob at that time.
Mr. Nixon sat calmly in the back of the car.
He had passed the greatest test one must pass in a Spanish-speaking country. He had shown personal courage. He spoke at the port of Callao to a group of stevedores and they applauded him with enthusiasm when he said that the incident at San Marcos clearly showed the ugly face of communism.
