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In November 1928, Herbert Hoover had time to kill. The people of the United States had just elected him to be their 31st President, but until 1933 when ratification of the 20th amendment changed the inauguration date to 20 January, U. S. presidents took office on 4 March. So President-elect Hoover decided to employ the intervening weeks by making a goodwill visit to the nations of Central and South America. He began his journey in the battleship USS Maryland (BB-46), based in San Pedro, California. Later in the trip he transferred to the USS Utah (BB-31). But he started off in the Maryland, and since I was the ship’s assistant gunnery officer, I went along. So did Mrs. Hoover, their son, a dozen or so Secret Service men, and a large contingent of the press, which in those days was all men.
Never say the press won’t hold its tongue for the good of the country. On a goodwill tour of South America in the Maryland with President Hoover, (arriving in Peru, above), Admiral Wright talked the press corps (opposite) into hushing up an incident involving guns, Yankee lust, and an inviting senorita.
On 19 November we embarked and headed south along the coast of California, stopping at several Central American ports where President-elect Hoover and party went ashore to visit with military and political leaders.
Ultimately we reached Lima, the capital of Peru. After the official party had landed, the skipper, Captain V. A. Kimberly, U. S. Navy, sent for me and announced that he was landing a liberty party of one watch, which was one- third of the crew. He said I would be the senior patrol officer ashore. “Pick your men,” he said, “as many as you want, and make certain that absolutely nothing happens to mar the President’s visit. Do you understand clearly? Absolutely nothing.” I said I understood.
We landed. From the local police I got the names and locations of the hot spots where our men would most likely encounter trouble. I stationed my patrol detail accordingly and then headed for the main street, accompanied by my faithful chief, to “see the town.”
All was uneventful until a breathless Peruvian policeman came charging up to the chief and me and announced in three incoherent languages that two men from the Maryland had shot a police officer. “Come pronto.” We went pronto, with the captain’s instructions ringing in my ears.
The policeman led us to a small shoe shop before which a large crowd had gathered. We pushed our way through the crowd and there, on the floor of the shop, we saw a Peruvian policeman lying in a pool of blood.
The shop was crowded with newsmen, interviewing bystanders, writing notes, and snapping pictures, mostly of the wounded man. Two Maryland men were pinned to the wall by half a dozen cops.
I pushed my way to the two men and asked, “What happened?”
They said they were walking down the street not bothering anybody when “that cute little Peruvian senorita across the shop passed us, smiled, and wiggled her fanny. That’s an invitation
Proceedings / April 1989
her.
and she led them into this shop.
who
resented their presence and tried to
the
scuffle, his gun went off and he
(H. HOOVER PRESIDENTIAL LIBRARY)
'n anybody’s language.” They followed ^®re she apparently had a boyfriend throw them out.
During the scuffle, they said, the P°1 iceman stampeded through the door With his gun in the air and joined in e effort to throw the sailors out. In s ut himself in the leg.
There’s nothing wrong with him except that he’s bleeding like a stuck P’8> said the Americans. That did 'ndeed seem to be the case.
Turning to the police lieutenant in cbarge I said, “This is an unfortunate accident, and it must be kept out of the newspapers.”
No sir,” he replied. “This cannot ,.e kept out of the papers. We are a ree country and these men can print anything they see. Only one man in all eru can keep this from the press; resident Agusto Leguia. He is the
only one.” 6
I demanded, “Take me to the Presi- ent- Ahora pronto, El Presidente, sol- junente.” Seeing my determination, he acked up the hurry-up wagon, a heezing jalopy, and we rattled nrough the streets toward the palace.
A* the palace gate, we found at least a company of soldiers armed to the eeth with Bren machine guns and belts °t ammunition.
I made known again my desire to See the President. The military lieuten- aut in charge of the palace detail said, No, impossible. Better you see the general.”
So I broke out my best Naval Acad- erriy Spanish: “No tengo tiempo por el general. Mi mission es muy impor- ar|te. Es importante que yo hablar con e Presidente. Immediatamente yo soy Utl official en el armada del los Estados
Unidos Americana embarcado en el barque con el Presidente Hoover y nuestro mission es muy importante. Es precisco que yo visitar con el Presidente de Peru solamente immediatamente. Comprende usted?” and I pointed to my meager two stripes and “SP” brassard.
He replied, “OK. Pero con una guardia de docena soldados.” With six machine gunners ahead of me and six astern and we marched off toward the palace.
A flunkie responded to my vigorous knock on the palace door. He was the most gorgeous flunkie I had ever seen. He wore a black and yellow striped vest, a coat, knee britches, white stockings, and silver-buckled shoes.
To my request to see the President, he replied, “Imposible, esta comiendo con el Presidente Americano y no puedo permitir la.”
So again I broke out my bastard Spanish, which I peppered with gestures, but he still gave me an emphatic “No!” to which I replied with an equally determined “Si!” At this point, one of the machine gunners slid a cartridge into his gun, but the lieutenant motioned him aside and signaled for a three-legged conference with the police lieutenant and the flunkie. The rapid- fire conversation lost me, but all of them had something to say.
Apparently, my bastard Spanish had worked, because the flunkie broke off and headed toward the dining room.
The President appeared. He was a fine looking man, decked out in white tie and tails. His coat was festooned with medals and sun bursts, and he wore a gold cross suspended by a ribbon around his neck. He was every inch a president.
He said, in perfect English, for which I thanked God, “What seems to be the trouble, young man?”
I told him the whole story, emphasizing that the shooting was accidental and stressing the ill effects press reports of the incident would have on Mr. Hoover’s visit. I said that the police had told me that he was the only man in Peru who could prevent the story’s publication, and I urged him to do so in the interests of achieving a successful conference with his U. S. counterpart.
He looked me square in the eye and said, "I can keep it out of the Peruvian press. Can you keep it out of the American press?” Without a moment’s hesitation 1 said, “Yes, 1 can.” The President said, “Shake.” We did, and he departed back toward the dining room.
I manned the police jalopy and hightailed it back toward the ship. I had not the remotest idea as to how I would carry out my part of the bargain.
I told my story to Captain Kimberly. He said, “The entire press, Peruvian and American, is assembled in the wardroom. I have silenced our radios pending receipt of your report. The press is madder than hell at my censorship.” He told me to tell them the story, emphasizing my agreement with the Peruvian President.
The air in that wardroom was blue with such furious remarks as, “Who the hell does the Old Crow think he is, censoring our copy?” Another reporter cast doubt on the marital status of the captain's parents, and so on.
1 stood on a chair and signaled for silence, then told them the story.
Among the newsmen was a prominent editor from the Baltimore Sun who had been elected to represent the American press with foreign officials. His name was Mark Sullivan.
He rose to his feet and said, “You have heard the lieutenant’s story. It is probably the most authentic you will get. I haven’t got the vaguest idea how he thought he would carry out his part of his agreement with the President, and I don’t think he has either. But he made the agreement, and I urge that we adhere to it.”
They did, and not a word was leaked to the media of Peru or the United States.
Admiral Wright’s distinguished naval career began with his graduation from the Naval Academy in 1917 and culminated in service as Commander-inChief Atlantic and Commander-in-Chief, U. S. Atlantic Fleet, and Supreme Allied Commander, Atlantic. He was President of the Naval Institute’s Board of Control 1959-60. He retired from the Navy in 1960, but returned to active duty to serve with the Central Intelligence Agency 1961-63.
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breedings / April 1989