The Path Between The Seas

The title of the book says it all–it is a history of the building of the Panama Canal, the greatest engineering feat of all time to that date.

I’m not finished with the book yet.  I’ve read the entire section on the French efforts under De Lesseps, the transition period, and am now rereading the section on the Panamanian revolution/separation from Columbia.  The latter was an eye-opener for me, and blasted all sorts of assumptions I’d made about what happened.  Yes, US intervention was crucial to the Panamanian revolution; without it, the new Republic wouldn’t have lasted a week and the founders of Panamá were well aware of it.

BUT I had always assumed the the Canal Treaty originated with the US.  In fact, it did not.  Panamá got an incredibly raw deal with that treaty–but it was written and signed by a Frenchman who was the official representative of the new Panamanian Republic.  Philippe Bunau-Varilla was a director and stockholder in the second French company that held assets in Panamá that included the work done so far on the canal and a great deal of machinery, buildings, etc.  Panamá, of course, was not the country but the Department of Panamá, of Columbia.  Bunau-Varilla was desperate to sell of the canal assets BUT also to see that the canal was built, in order to rescue, as he put it, French honor and French genius.  As he saw it, the only country who would and could do it was the US.

Bunau-Varilla and an American lawyer who represented the French company, set out on a campaign to convince the US Senate to build the canal in Panamá, not in Nicaragua as was the near-unanimous sentiment at the time.  The campaign was brilliant, aimed at the right people–including Teddy Roosevelt who was President–and who appreciated the technical arguments.

But the final hangup was Colombia, thanks basically to misunderstandings on the part of the US government as to what was really happening in Colombia and what its intentions really were.  What was ready to  hand was a completely home-grown, potential revolution of Panamanians, who were convinced of the necessity of separating from Colombia but were well aware of the dangers.  Bunau-Varilla manipulated these men, especially Dr. Amador, and in the end, lied to the Panamanians in order to get from them his official role as the single person who would represent the new Republic to the US.  That, of course, was to get a treaty that would be to the advantage of the French company and accomplish his goals.  In order to make sure that the treaty would pass the Senate without hassle in the least amount of time, he wrote one that gave away the Canal Zone to the US, excepting outright ownership.  But the US had sovereign rights within the Canal Zone.

The terms of the treaty were nothing short of incredible, far, far more than the US had been prepared to ask.  In fact, when Secretary of State Hay and others saw it, they were flabbergasted–but of course accepted the treaty–who wouldn’t?  So, the treaty was signed–hours before the official Panamanian delegation reached Washington–and were, as Bunau-Varilla knew they would be, totally outraged; he was fired from his position on the spot.  But it was too late.

As the final piece in the drama, Roosevelt violated a 50 year old US treaty with Colombia by sending warships, landing troops and preventing the movement of Colombian troops in Colón.  The story of the revolution on November 3 is wonderful.  Word had gotten to Panama City that Colombian troops–500 of them–had landed in Colón.  Dr. Amador and the rest of the conspirators panicked, visualizing very realistically firing squads and other unpleasant consequences.  But the hero of the revolution was Señora Amador, Dr. Amador’s wife.  She supposedly told them to get on with the fight, soldiers or no soldiers.  And she was the one who concocted a brilliant scheme that was the reason the revolution was a bloodless one. The only casualty was that of a Chinese shopkeeper who was killed in his bed when a Colombian warship fired 5 or 6 shells on Panama City.  He and a donkey!  It’s just the greatest story.

There’s far more to it that what I’ve just outlined.  This is a greatly simplified summary just of parts; the history of the French effort in itself is utterly absorbing.  The whole story is so wild that it actually wouldn’t make a good novel–people would scorn it–”over the top”–”unrealistic”–yet it’s all true!

I have always loved history and there is no reason on earth why it has to be boring, because the stories usually aren’t.  It takes a good historian who is also both a good story-teller and a good writer.  McCullough is all of these.  He is one of the foremost historians of the present time, having won the Pulitzer Prize twice, both times for biographies.  The only other book of his that I’ve read so far is his biography of John Adams, which is really fascinating and very well written.   I think he’s a better writer in The Path Between the Seas.

As I said, I haven’t finished the book yet, but it is hard for me to believe that the story of the successful US effort to build the canal and all that that meant is going to disappoint.  McCullough is too good a historian, the story is too good, and he writes too well.

This is a must read for all sorts of people–those interested in Panamanian history, those looking for a true-life action-adventure story in the building of the Canal and those who just plain like well-researched history that is beautifully written.

Cattle Egret Spa

Cattle egrets in cecropia tree/Mary Farmer

By taking all sorts of fascinating pix, Mary is making my blogging life a lot easier!  Why should I stir myself when she does such a great job?

I thought this photo was just perfect.  Look at that stupendously gorgeous tropical sky!!  That’s the beauty of the rain–afterwards, you get this marvelously clear sky, even better than on postcards!  And I don’t knock postcards.  Whenever I go to any popular scenic site, I always buy postcards because inevitably, professionals take better pictures than I do.  And many, many years ago, someone tipped me off to the fact that it’s a wonderful way of remembering a trip–just a few words on the back of a postcard to remind you of what it was you saw and did.  Naturally, I did that for a while, then, of course–forgot.

These cattle egrets have settled in for a bath and pedicure, no doubt, in one of the tall cecropia trees behind our house.  It’s a flock of 20-30, far more than we usually see at one time.  BUT we do see them every day.  There seems to be one flock of about 5-8 that flies sedately from south to north over our place at about 8:30 every morning, and returns south in the late afternoon.  Not surprising, since we have a cattle ranch behind us.  But they are so regular, and so stately, that I have from the beginning instinctively thought of them as commuters; the only thing missing is a copy of La Prensa.

What also interest me is where you find them.  For example, for some years we had bird-watching acquaintances in Boquete, who told me that they almost never saw cattle egrets–that it was years before they saw their first.  They’re so common here (cattle country) that it just astonished me.  There are a few cattle ranches near Boquete, but they’re probably tucked out of sight of the pueblo itself.  But it does intrigue me–is there an altitude barrier, for example?  I have to ask Carla Black (if I remember) if cattle egrets are common in Volcan, which is much higher than Boquete.  There are a lot of dairy farms there, so it’s a good test.  For all the times we’ve driven to Volcan, I don’t remember seeing cattle egrets, but for me they are now part of the landscape and if I did see them, that would not be  a remarkable sight, one to remember.

But I do enjoy our egret friends–it’s one of those sights that always brings a smile, even though I’ve seen them flying overhead literally hundreds of times.

A Rich Brasilian Woman’s Vocation

I love synchronicity, I really do.

Here’s an article in the Washington Post about a rich Brasilian woman, Yvonne Bezerra de Mello, and what she’s doing in the slums of Rio de Janeiro, one of the most violent and drug-torn cities in the world.

Despite spending a great deal of time in Brasil, I’ve never been to Rio.  But I’ve visited favelas in São Paulo, taken to them by a Spiritans Father Irish missionary.  However, the ones I went to were definitely not the worst.  Still, one of the tensest moments of my life came when Jimmy and I got separated.  I think I’ve already written about this, so won’t do so again.

Sorry to use the “r” word–I know it’s now a four-letter word to some people (who don’t seem to have any problem with the four-letter word “poor”) who hopefully are finding moral and spiritual uplift on Fox News and Don Imus talk shows.  But she is RICH (I will be d____d and blasted if I let anyone censor me for perfectly acceptable language); knowing what I do about the rich in Brasil and how, normally, they truly isolate themselves from ordinary Brasilians, never mind favela kids, I have nothing but admiration for her.  I don’t have a means test for admiration for people who are doing their best to help others.  And I completely agree with her about that education gap–I would–that same attitude directs my far, far more modest efforts in an infinitely easier situation.  Note especially the numbers of children she’s taught who haven’t made it.  She clearly doesn’t have a barter or exchange mentality–she does what she can.

Please take the time to read this article about a truly remarkable woman.