"This Is Now Being Done"

A battalion of frock-coated military-academy cadets stood ramrod straight; eight mariachi bands and two brass bands took their positions. Fifteen thousand people milled around expectantly. Across the airport roof stretched a sign etched in blue flowers: "Francia y Mexico par la Paz del Mundo--Viva Francia." Then out of a warm, clear sky whistled the white-and-blue-trimmed Caravelle carrying Charles de Gaulle. Down the steps he lumbered, over to a red dais, and to the first crack of a 21-gun salute, France's towering (6 ft. 4 in.) President leaned low and bussed 5-ft. 9-in. President Adolfo Lopez Mateos on both cheeks. The crowd roared its delight.

And so began the long-heralded Mexican visit of le grand Charles, to be followed this fall by a tour of possibly ten other Latin American countries. For those who felt that De Gaulle's primary aim was simply to play on latent anti-U.S. feelings throughout Latin America, the two leaders had quick reassurance. What Mexico seeks, said Lopez Mateos at the airport, "is an alliance that is informal and without protocol and against no one." On Mexico's insistence, De Gaulle agreed in advance not to bait the U.S.

"Hand in Hand." On the five-mile ride into Mexico City, some 200,000 people lined the streets (v. 1,500,000 who turned out for Jack and Jackie Kennedy in 1962). Standing in his black Mercedes convertible, De Gaulle was showered with vivas and confetti. Everywhere, in shop windows, in newspapers, on billboards, portraits of De Gaulle beamed back at the visitor. They ranged from thumbnail-size De Gaulles on 1,000,000 commemorative stamps to a five-story likeness hung in Mexico City's Plaza de la Constitucion.

Wearing his brigadier general's uniform and two-star kepi, De Gaulle addressed a curiously subdued crowd of 200,000 from the balcony of the National Palace--the first visiting dignitary ever accorded that honor. "Mexicanos," he proclaimed, during a three-minute speech memorized in precise Spanish, "I bring to Mexico France's salute. Let us walk hand in hand." After laying a memorial wreath at Mexico City's Independence Column, De Gaulle ducked his guards and plunged into a sea of outstretched hands. At city hall, he received the keys to the city; at a joint session of the Mexican Congress, a standing ovation. His most enthusiastic reception came at Mexico's national university, where exuberant students swept aside his aides and crashed through a glass door for a closer look at the fabled visitor. Arriving early for Mass at the venerated Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, near the capital, the general was met by Mexico's primate, Archbishop Miguel Dario Miranda, who extended his crucifix for the kneeling visitor to kiss. "Do it again!" cried slow-starting photographers; to their amazement, De Gaulle did, with a scowl.

"Beneficial Contacts." Everywhere De Gaulle spoke, he made the same flattering appeal: "Special understandings should be established between your country, a vital part of Latin America, and my own, essential to Europe but at the same time extending its influence and activity both to Africa and Asia." Hailing Latin America's "appearance in the foreground of world affairs," he said that the policies of the two countries should be "attuned." "France," he intoned, "has learned to know you. But never yet has France as such paid you an official visit. This is now being done." In their final communique, De Gaulle and Lopez Mateos announced that a joint committee will explore ways for France and Mexico to work more closely and expand their trade. Right now 60% to 70% of Mexico's trade is with the U.S., only 3.5% with France; nor is Franco-Mexican trade likely to increase much, since Mexico's big need is for capital goods, which it can readily buy in the U.S. with U.S. credits.

Publicly, Lopez Mateos welcomed the "mutual and beneficial contacts between Europe and Latin America" that De Gaulle's trip heralds. But in private talks, Lopez Mateos emphasized to De Gaulle his and other leaders' concern over ruinously low world market prices for the raw materials and tropical farm produce that are Latin America's livelihood. So France, which dictated the European Common Market's preferential tariffs for competing products from its former African colonies, promised to fight for international agreements to stabilize commodity prices.

"A Human Hope." After a final visit to the pre-Aztec ruins at San Juan Teotihuacan, le grand Charles, his pate pink from four days of sun, returned to the airport. Following a brief, cordial send-off from Lopez Mateos, he flew off to Merida on the Yucatan peninsula, where he discreetly changed from the prestigious Caravelle to a speedier Boeing 707. Then it was on to the French West Indies for a four-day visit.

What did Mexico gain from it all? "Inspiration," suggested one high French official, "and the knowledge that someone else understands its point of view." And France? De Gaulle's Mexican success was clearly one more proof that the world "considers France a great human hope." Said De Gaulle: "Everywhere, our country's moral, human and, consequently, in the most elevated sense of the word, its political standing, is higher than ever." Thanks in part to Mexico, which paid for all phone calls and cables filed by 72 foreign newsmen, that was probably true.

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