Flying Back From Rio

In 28 hours' flying time the Anzac Clipper, camouflaged for day flying and blacked out at night, clocked 4,350 statute miles last week, bringing U.S. Under Secretary of State Sumner Welles home in record time from the Rio de Janeiro Conference of American foreign ministers.

Although an immediate unanimous diplomatic rupture with the Axis had been thwarted by Chilean-Argentine opposition. Statesman Welles and such other notable statesmen as Brazil's President Getulio Vargas and Foreign Minister Oswaldo Aranha, Mexico's Foreign Minister Ezequiel Padilla and Uruguay's Alberto Guanu had given new meaning to the term Americanism. They had preserved the moral unity of the 21 Nations, driven Axis diplomats from 19 of them, and throttled Axis trade. With resolutions calling for economic mobilization and the unification of hemisphere defenses, they had begun the task of making America economically and physically impregnable.

No Free Trade. Resolutions affecting intercontinental economy recommended the prevention of sharp increases in the price of export products and the granting of preferential treatment for nations needing access to raw materials. Washington reports, which confused U.S. delegates, indicated at first that the preferential treatment might mean eventual hemisphere free trade--with inevitable opposition from U.S. interests traditionally linked with protective tariffs. An official U.S. reservation, included in the 66-page final text of Conference decisions, spiked this report by declaring that the terms of the resolution "are inconsistent with the . . . liberal principles of international trade maintained by the U.S."

This proviso, however, was offset by recommendations and the setting up of machinery for the prompt interchange of strategic materials because of the "imperative character and extreme urgency of the existing situation"--in effect a freeze-out of whatever Axis trade remained.

Realistic measures of defense called for elimination of telecommunications with the Axis countries, closer passport inspection, control of Axis-owned businesses (on which Argentina and Chile submitted a reservation); and stricter surveillance of local Nazi groups, which openly brag of loyalty to the Fatherland even though a German colonist "wears a sombrero and spurs as wide as wagon wheels."

Not Perfect. As airtight as possible, the resolutions had their theme best expressed in Article 22, which declared: "The principle that international conduct must be inspired by the policy of the Good Neighbor is the norm of international law on the American continent." This Good Neighbor diplomacy reached its peak at the Conference's concluding plenary session in Tiradentes Palace. Brazil's Aranha, scarcely able to control the excitement in his bass voice, announced to stomping, cheering crowds that Brazil, largest and strategically the most important of the South American countries had ". . . at 6 o'clock today broken her diplomatic and commercial relations with Germany, Italy and Japan." After settlement of the old boundary dispute with Peru Ecuador followed suit.

As he had done before, Mexico's Padilla told off dissenting Chile and Argentina. Called to the speaker's podium by an insistent gallery, Padilla touched off an emotional outburst when he said: "We have signed pacts for the salvation of all men. The stars appear more vividly as night comes on. We will soon see the brilliant constellation of the 21 American Republics shining in the American firmament. . . . We should manifest our profound confidence that Chile and Argentina, who have not yet done so, will soon take identical measures."

Chile's bumptious Foreign Minister Juan Bautista Rossetti nervously wisecracked with a nearby Chilean as Padilla spoke. Argentina's austere Foreign Minister Enrique Ruiz Guinazu, did not cheer. But the other delegates and gallery rose as one man, gave Padilla an ovation equaled only by those for Sumner Welles and Senhor Aranha.

Two Ways to Go Home. The businesslike homeward flight of Under Secretary Welles marked the end of one of the most difficult assignments any U.S. diplomat ever undertook. It would have been a heartbreaking assignment for a less controlled statesman than shyly stiff Sumner Welles, whose devotion to American unity twice broke through his self-control and caused his voice to tremble when he thanked those nations which had stood by the U.S. in her hour of trouble. When both Argentina and Chile agreed to the first, strong declaration breaking diplomatic relations (TIME, Feb. 2) Welles was triumphant. Overnight his triumph was snatched from him, when Argentina's Acting President Ramon S. Castillo repudiated his Foreign Minister's action and Chile grabbed the excuse to backslide.

Faced with this setback, Welles could have either 1) won the resolution with 19 signatories, sacrificing unity, or 2) accepted a weaker declaration, preserving unity at the expense of a strong stand. His choice of No. 2 was both statesmanlike and shrewd. Unity was preserved: both Argentina and Chile were morally committed to break relations, given no excuse to complain of pressure. At the same time Welles so played his cards (helped by Drs. Vargas & Aranha) that when the Conference was over 19 nations not only recommended a break, but actually broke relations.

As he left Rio, cheered as when he arrived, Statesman Welles could also take satisfaction in another, longer-term victory: from being practically isolated from its 20 sister American Republics only nine years ago, the U.S. had become one of the most popular nations in the hemisphere, while Argentina, fast losing Chile's support, had isolated herself.

The twin-engined Potez plane which was to take Foreign Minister Ruiz Guinazu back to Buenos Aires staggered on its takeoff, nearly ground-looped at 150 m.p.h., finally pancaked into Rio's harbor. Naval cadets in whale boats and two Brazilian secret service men, who stripped and swam to the wreckage, helped all twelve men aboard to safety. As Minister Ruiz Guinazu patted bedraggled wisps of hair back over his bald spot, sudden screams from the partially submerged plane revealed that the only woman aboard, Basilia Antoine, French wife of the pilot, had been left behind. A cadet plunged to the rescue, saved her--and Senor Ruiz Guinazu's brief case as well.

After being informed that all aboard were safe, sly Foreign Minister Aranha could not resist a diplomatic jest. "The plane was not overloaded," said he. "It was simply Ruiz Guinazu's conscience that was heavy."

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