Meanwhile, the governor, in turn, ordered that Puente also be arrested and sent to Ushuaia. The Workers’ Federation called a general assembly of its members on January 14th, 1919 to decide on whether or not to organize a general strike calling for the release of Apolinario Barrera and Eduardo Puente. But the assembly never got the chance to make its decision, as the police, under the command of Commissioner Ritchie, surrounded the union offices, barged in, and arrested the entire leadership committee (nine Spaniards and one Russian). Another group of workers immediately took over the committee’s duties and declared a general strike.
Something unexpected happened on January 17th, something that had never been seen on the streets of Río Gallegos: a demonstration by working-class women. They demanded the immediate release of the men who had been imprisoned because of their union activities. According to the police, the women, who had taken over Calle Zapiola and Calle Independencia, refused orders to disperse. They allegedly hurled abuse at the representatives of law and order, threw stones at Commissioner Alfredo Maffei and attacked Officer Ramón Reyes from behind.
Things only got more serious from there. Sergeant Jesús Sánchez arrested the demonstration’s organizer, the Spaniard Pilar Martínez (a thirty-one-year-old widow and a cook by trade). But according to the police report, the woman—a brave Galician flower—gave him “a sharp kick in the testicles, producing a painful contusion rendering him unfit for duty for two days.” The police report, signed by Commissioner Ritchie, adds that this crude act committed by a representative of the weaker sex was witnessed by Submissioner Luis Lugones and the civilians Antonio Adrover, Pedro Rubione, and Augusto Guilard, who immediately offered to testify against the woman.
The medical report, issued by Dr. Ladvocat, shouldn’t be missed: “Sergeant Jesús Sánchez complains of a sharp pain in his left testicle that is exacerbated by the slightest pressure. But it will heal without any long-term consequences for the patient.” His honor was saved! Heaven forbid that this police officer should lose the virility that he demonstrated so well by beating women.
This affair ended with the formal dissolution of the Workers’ Federation and the fleeting triumph of the governor, who just a few days later will have to come to the rescue of Colonel Contreras Sotomayor, the governor of the Chilean province of Magallanes, then facing a strike by the workers at the Borries Meatpacking Plant in Puerto Natales. These workers were supported by the Última Esperanza Farmworkers and Meatpackers Union, led by the anarchists Terán, Espinosa, Saldivia, and Viveros. The workers occupied the city and administered it through workers’ councils.
Despite the internal situation in Río Gallegos and the popular rebellion in Punta Arenas that threatened to spill over the border, the governor of Santa Cruz sent all the troops at his disposal to Puerto Natales, where Major Bravo reinstated the Chilean deputy mayor at his post.
And so the first cycle of workers’ uprisings in the extreme south of the continent came to an end. The Río Gallegos Workers’ Federation also ended the first stage of its existence with the final closure of its offices by Judge Sola and the imprisonment of its leaders, who would be released just five months later. And it is Antonio Soto who will lead the new Río Gallegos Workers’ Society in the second stage of its existence, right up to its final defeat at the hands of Lieutenant Colonel Varela.
CHAPTER THREE: DAWN FOR THE WRETCHED
“For his exploiters, the value of a man can’t match
that of a mule, a sheep, or a horse.”
Manifesto of the Río Gallegos Workers’ Society
November 1920
The strikes in Punta Arenas, Puerto Natales, Puerto Deseado, and Río Gallegos were enormously significant for those living in the south. They opened the eyes of the bosses to the possibility of a revolutionary strike that could threaten the private property system at any moment. The days had ended when some people gave the orders and others did nothing but obey. And they realized that, to defend themselves from this danger, they needed unity and, above all, the support of the federal government, which could provide police reinforcements and deploy the armed forces. For the workers, these episodes showed that a movement without organization was condemned to fail. More than anything else, the men of the Río Gallegos Workers’ Society criticized themselves for their lack of coordination with their sister organizations in Puerto Natales and Punto Arenas on the Chilean side of the border.
To understand the background to the coming tragedy, we need a clear explanation of the behavior of two men: Judge Viñas and the journalist José María Borrero. The first represents the Radical Party in all its zeal for change and progress; the second, with his charismatic personality, is the spokesman for that stratum of Santa Cruz society caught between the landowners and the workers. A stratum that is almost entirely made up of Spaniards: small landowners, small business owners, tavern keepers, hotel and restaurant owners, white collar workers, independent artisans, etc. This petite bourgeoisie sees their existence threatened by the large consortiums—like the Braun-Menéndez family’s La Anónima—true regional monopolies in the sale of such staple products as food, clothing, etc., and possessing the capital and logistical infrastructure needed to destroy any potential competition.
With the meager resources at its disposal, the Patagonian middle class depends on its clientèle, the workers. They even support the labor movement to a certain extent, because higher wages means more purchasing power and therefore higher sales volumes.
This middle social stratum has just one weekly newspaper to speak for it: La Verdad, whose owner and editor is José María Borrero. On their side, the landowners have the biweekly La Unión.
Two dissimilar men arrive in Río Gallegos at almost exactly the same time, though by very different routes. The first is the aforementioned Judge Ismael Viñas, appointed by President Yrigoyen for a three year term, while the second is the Spaniard Antonio Soto, who ended up in the far south as a stagehand for a traveling Spanish operetta company: he set up the scenery, arranged the seating, cleaned up afterwards, and even played the occasional minor role when needed. He decides to stay in Río Gallegos and, within a matter of weeks, becomes the secretary of the Workers’ Society, steering it in a frankly revolutionary direction.
The fuse of the coming tragedy will be lit by Judge Viñas through his aforementioned legal proceedings against two English ranching companies: The Monte Dinero Sheep Farming Company and The San Julián Sheep Farming Company.
The acting governor and secretary of the Rural Society, Correa Falcón, uses all the resources at his disposal—the police, the government bureaucracy, and the newspaper La Unión—to obstruct the judge. José María Borrero defends the judge’s unprecedented stand against the power of the landowners in the pages of La Verdad, while two lawyers, Juan Carlos Beherán and Salvador Corminas, provide legal support. This group of men makes contact with the Río Gallegos Workers’ Society and holds frequent meetings with Antonio Soto and other union leaders. And so there are working-class manifestos written by Borrero, a lawyer.
A protracted power struggle between the judge and the governor ensues. Viñas accelerates the legal proceedings and orders Monte Dinero’s assets to be auctioned off. The governor retaliates by ordering the arrest of the auctioneer and a group of the judge’s friends, including José María Borrero, Corminas, and Beherán. When Viñas orders the seizure of the assets of San Julián, the other English ranching company, Governor Correa Falcón once again intervenes with the police to prevent them from being auctioned off.
The president