“Every black man of genius will eventually be destroyed,” said the Nuyorican widower Irving Rivera as he puffed on a Winston cigarette in the university cafeteria soon after he learned Pedro Albizu Campos had been buried in the Old San Juan Cemetery one hot summer day in 1965.
“Such is the destiny of every ambitious man of African blood wherever and whenever the Anglo-Saxon rules. It shouldn’t surprise you, Susana. The great Paul Robeson – Shakespearean actor, Columbia Law School graduate, opera tenor, celebrated football player, and unapologetic rebel against the Empire – is suffering a fate similar to that of Albizu Campos. After being persecuted for years, he is now in intensive psychiatric care, undergoing electroconvulsive therapy because of his grave mental confusion.
“And he’s not the first black man with aspirations beyond his ‘natural condition’ to have been destroyed by the white man. There’s also the case of W.E.B. Du Bois, the first black man to receive a doctorate from Harvard University, founder of the NAACP, writer of American classics like The Soul of Black Folks, and indefatigable critic of the Empire. He was hunted down by the FBI for years, kept under constant surveillance and handcuffed, arrested and indicted on trumped-up charges when he was in his eighties. Ultimately, his U.S. passport was revoked while he was in Ghana where he languished for years unable to return to America. And why was he punished in such a manner? To silence him because he had the audacity to declare blacks should ‘say what they damn please without having fears, informers or a sneaking FBI.’”
"There was also the Jamaican Marcus Garvey," Irving continued, "founder of a vast Pan-Africanist movement in the 1920's, editor of The Negro World, which was sold all over the Americas, operator of many black-staffed businesses in New York City and champion of the black diaspora and of the blacks colonized in Africa. He was specifically targeted by the FBI’s J. Edgar Hoover and was incarcerated on the grounds that he had sold some stock in a transport company meant to take American blacks to Africa.
“And I could go on and on. History is full of men and women of African descent who have been jailed and tortured without restraint or punished with death for being ‘uppity’ or simply demanding to be treated as humans. The case of Albizu Campos is not the exception but the rule.”
The independentista1 leader Pedro Albizu Campos had died a week earlier, and his casket had been followed by more than a hundred thousand people, including Professor Irving Rivera, but the fifty-year-old Nuyorican did not process the enormity of the event until the day of the revolutionary’s burial. Only then did Irving accept that his long-suffering Maestro was finally and irrevocably dead.
“I’ve heard some say he was a terrorist,” said Susana Cohen, a graduate student at the Rio Piedras campus of the University of Puerto Rico. “Wouldn’t he have been incarcerated irrespective of his race?”
“He was a champion for the liberation of Puerto Rico, no more a terrorist than Washington or Jefferson, San Martín or Bolívar. It is true that he believed, especially at the height of American repression, that the Boricuas2 would not prevail without the shedding of much blood. He was a defender of the independence of the island, a great figure like Ramón Betances, who sought freedom for Puerto Rico from the Spaniards in the 1860s. Like Betances, Albizu Campos embodied the aspirations not only of Puerto Rico but of an entire continent. If I was to use a term to describe him, it would be revolutionary prophet rather than terrorist. And there is no doubt Albizu Campos was destroyed because the Anglo-Saxon deemed him to be black. Not surprising that as far back as the 1890s, the Americans called us Puerto Ricans a ‘mongrel’ race. I myself was considered black when I lived in exile among New Yorkers from the day I was born until I came to the island.”
Unlike Irving Rivera – professor emeritus of history at the Rio Piedras campus of the University of Puerto Rico – Susana had spent her entire life on the island other than her college years but knew much less about the colony’s history than her Nuyorican teacher, who had done all he could to learn Puerto Rico’s history while he was a “foreigner” living in New York City. He hadn’t been interested in the history classes they taught him at Regis High School, about Jefferson and Washington, the Founding Fathers and all the rest. What they failed to teach him at school is what he decided to study on his own, the martyred history of the island to which he felt he belonged despite having been born and raised in the detested land of the Anglo-Saxon.
“You have to learn your history in order to understand the need to decolonize Puerto Rico,” Irving explained to the twenty-five-year-old Susana. “Albizu Campos wasn’t just put in jail. He was tortured in an attempt to force him to submit. The Americans wanted to break him. That is why they ultimately subjected him to radiation attacks while he was in prison. Through their brutal methods, they wanted to make a giant of Puerto Rican independence an invalid that could never again proclaim his dream of an independent Borinquén3. They had learned over the years that even from prison Albizu Campos could rally the masses to join his quest for Puerto Rican liberation. So, they decided to destroy him. By the end, half his body was paralyzed, and he could barely utter a simple sentence. They had done their task and could free him without worries. Not surprising that the courageous prócer4 died within six months of receiving a pardon from Governor Muñoz Marín in 1964.”
“How do you know so much about him?” asked Susana. “I’ve been researching the man recently, and most people seem to have forgotten all about him. Of course, many are discussing him now given his recent death.”
“I am working on a proposal for a biography of Albizu Campos,” Irving responded. “The proposal is approximately sixty pages long and is almost finished. I plan to submit it to the Despierta Boricua publishing house in Ponce. They publish a lot of historical works. I anticipate that my book will be about two-hundred pages long.”
“That’s quite a coincidence,” replied Susana. “I’ve been thinking of writing my doctoral dissertation on the legacy of Pedro Albizu Campos. I’d be interested in knowing what you think about him.”
“He was a brilliant man, the greatest Puerto Rican prócer that ever lived.”
“Why do you say he was brilliant? I’d like to know your take on the issue. I was never taught his history in school in Puerto Rico and my history professors at Vassar knew nothing about him.”
Professor Rivera engaged in a lengthy disquisition.
“Well, we can start at the beginning. Pedro Albizu Campos did extremely well at his high school in Ponce and obtained a scholarship to the University of Vermont despite the fact that he came from very humble circumstances. He got such stellar marks that he soon transferred to Harvard College and from there to Harvard Law School. But that isn’t why I say he was a genius. At the same time he was studying law, he took a variety of courses at Harvard College and mastered seven languages, also receiving a doctorate in Philosophy and Letters. What’s most striking, however, is that he graduated at the top of the class at Harvard Law School. We’re talking number one in a law school where only la crème de la crème is entitled to enroll. And that’s probably when he first learned that his color and race would always be an obstacle of sorts in his efforts to thrive in a white man’s world, especially as a colonized Puerto Rican. As the student with the highest marks, he was entitled to be valedictorian, but the powers that be didn’t want that given his race. So those in power arranged things such that Albizu Campos’ final exams were postponed, and all his grades weren’t known by the time of the graduation ceremony. As such, he was unable to deliver the valedictory address. A fair-skinned Boston Brahmin took the place that was rightfully his.”
“What he did is beyond belief,” Susana exclaimed, “especially given that English was not his first language, and he had the disadvantage of being poor. I’m surprised I never learned about that at the Caribbean School in Ponce. It’s run by Americans as you well know. I’ve heard about Albizu Campos in broad terms, especially now that he has just died, but never any details. And I have only recently begun my research on the man for my dissertation.”
“Well, what he did at Harvard is all child’s play given what he did as an adult. Had he not been incarcerated for more than twenty years, I’m sure he would have achieved the independence of Puerto Rico. As far as the fact you did not learn about Albizu Campos in the Caribbean School you attended, that is not surprising. All the history you’ll learn at American schools is about Governor Muñoz Marín5 and Operation Bootstrap. And even the public schools are ultimately run by the Yankees who claim political legitimacy because of the frequent referendums approving the island’s Commonwealth status. There is the history told by the colonizer, printed in newspapers and on school textbooks. And then there is the history of the colonized, the victims whose history can only be spread by word of mouth. Be thankful that at least kids in Puerto Rico can study in Spanish. During the beginning of the occupation, it was the Empire’s intention to force everyone to speak English. The Yankees enacted the Official Language Act of 1902, forbidding the use of Spanish in public schools. It was the people’s fierce and tenacious resistance that prevented us from sharing the fate of Hawaii and the American Southwest and suffering a wholesale cultural genocide. Nothing but that steadfast reaction prevented all Puerto Ricans from sharing the destiny of the disappeared Taínos. That and Albizu Campos’ obsession with independence.”
“The Taínos were destroyed by the Spaniards, weren’t they?”
“Yes, they were the first desaparecidos.6”
“I’m going to have to go to the library and pick up some more books about Albizu Campos to help me with my dissertation. You see him as a heroic figure, don’t you?”
“I see him as the greatest Puerto Rican that ever lived, heir and equal to Bolívar. Albizu Campos was the moral conscience of all of Latin America. He was rightfully called Master by Latin Americans far and wide. At a conference for peace held in Buenos Aires, Albizu Campos was declared the Moral President of the Anti-Imperialist Consciousness of the Entire Continent. El Maestro wanted to oppose the American Empire wherever it sought to exercise control in any of the nations once colonized by Spain, from Cuba to Nicaragua, from Guatemala to the Dominican Republic. And certainly, in Puerto Rico.”
“Well, I guess I’ll be going now,” said Susana as she picked up her satchel and prepared to leave the university cafeteria. “Thanks for the history lesson on Pedro Albizu Campos.”
“Listen,” said Irving. “As I’ve told you I’ve written a book proposal in connection with a projected book about Albizu Campos. I would love for you to read it and give me your impressions. I ask you because you’ve always expressed an interest in Puerto Rican history, and you’re the best graduate student in the history department. And given your intention to write your doctoral dissertation on Pedro Albizu Campos, you might profit from learning what I have to say.”
“Sure, I’d love to,” responded Susana. “I definitely need to learn more about Albizu Campos given how little they teach in school. Go ahead and give me your book proposal. I’ll have it back to you within a week.”
“I would rather we read it together. Perhaps one section every week or whenever you are available. If we read it together, you can give me your suggestions on how to improve it. You’re a brilliant student, and I would forever be indebted to you if you helped me with this project.”
“That’s great,” responded Susana. “I’ll be here at eight o’clock next Friday.”
“Just one thing,” Irving interjected.
“Yes?”
“By reading about Don Pedro Albizu Campos and his Nationalist Party, you’re going to experience indignation. You are going to experience rage. You are going to despair of ever defeating the American Colossus.”
“I’ve never been an opponent of the status quo. I always thought Puerto Rico was doing just fine as an Estado Libre Asociado7. After all, the Puerto Rican masses approve of it every time it’s put on the ballot. But I’m interested in your perspective. Did you personally know Albizu Campos?”
“As a teenager and into my twenties, I was a Cadet in Pedro Albizu Campos’ army of liberation, proudly wore the black shirt, black bow tie, white cap and white pants which were the uniform of the group. I joined him immediately after arriving in Borinquén from New York City at seventeen years of age. But I never engaged in violence. I marched in the uniform of the Cadets, participated in marches and witnessed massacres. In my own small way, I tried to bring the Empire down. But it was not to be. After Albizu Campos’ third incarceration, the movement for independence completely collapsed. And now that he is dead, only ashes remain. There’s still the Ejercito Popular Boricua8, but they don’t have too much support.”
“I’ll definitely be here next week to review your work,” Susana told him. “I have only one condition.”
“What is your condition?”
“I hope that when we’re finished discussing your tract, you’ll agree to help me with my dissertation. Given how much you know about the subject, I would love for you to be my faculty advisor.”
“Gladly, gladly,” responded Irving.
***
Susana was a fair-skinned woman with auburn hair, which she held in a barrette, the daughter of an Afro-Puerto Rican mother. Susana took after her father, a Holocaust survivor and chemical engineer who had made his way to Puerto Rico after securing a job with a pharmaceutical company during Operation Bootstrap. Her family was such that not only would Susana never espouse racist views but she would never recognize differences between the races. Her siblings had been born of every hue imaginable: Nelida with the dark skin and pelo malo9 of her mother; Jacob born as white as his Jewish father; the twins, Georgina and Marjorie, who looked more like Arabs than Afro-Puerto Ricans; Rodrigo the last-born, who could not look blacker.
Susana had received a degree summa cum laude in History from Vassar College before she decided to return to the island to obtain her doctorate. She had taken several courses on the history of Puerto Rico at Rio Piedras, but the subject of Pedro Albizu’s gesta10 had never come up, most likely because the professors other than Irving thought the subject was taboo given Albizu Campos’ continuing incarceration and the ceaseless activity of Puerto Rican revolutionaries like the Ejercito Popular Boricua who were trying to recruit students to join their ranks.
Susana arrived at Irving’s apartment at eight o’clock as promised on the first of their many meetings. Irving and Susana turned to the task at hand, reading the first section of Irving’s book proposal, titled The Destruction of Pedro Albizu Campos.
“This part is about Pedro Albizu Campos’ first years,” said Irving, “which I’m not sure I should include in my story. But I’m thinking that examining his troubled childhood might give us some inkling into the man he became as an adult.”
“Read it,” Susana said. “I want to hear about his life as a kid.”
Irving put on his glasses and began to read.
“Pedro Albizu Campos’ mother made a decision similar to that of the mythical Llorona after she was abandoned by Pedro’s Spanish father. She decided to drown her child, the little Pedrito, in a river.”
“That is monstrous,” Susana exclaimed. “What is the myth of la Llorona?
“The Crying Woman is the dead spirit of a woman of color who roams near a river where she drowned her children after discovering her Spanish husband was unfaithful to her. She is forced to weep for her two mixed-race sons throughout eternity.”
“I think you should drop a footnote in your proposal about la Llorona. The parallels are striking. And you should definitely refer to this incident in your book. It is commonplace to say the child is the father of the man. Tell me, Irving, what happened next? Was Albizu Campos’ mother put in a sanatorium?”
“Juliana made several attempts to drown the young Albizu Campos. But el Maestro11, a staunch Catholic, believed that he had been saved at each turn by his guardian angel. Juliana tried to drown him three times. She failed in all three attempts as passersby noticed what she was doing and stopped her before she could complete her macabre deed. The woman eventually threw herself into the Portuguese river in Ponce, and Pedrito became an orphan. Thereafter, he lived with his Afro-Puerto Rican aunt, Rosa Campos, in dire poverty.”
“That is certainly an important piece of information,” Susana interjected. “I can’t imagine that such a thing would happen without leaving Albizu Campos permanently scarred. Your book should certainly address the issue. That’s my humble but sincere opinion.”
“I’ve written a little more about that. Let me read it to you.”
“Go ahead.” Susana replied.
“It is difficult to ascertain how that childhood tragedy affected the rest of Albizu Campos’ life. Perhaps his efforts to excel at Harvard and beyond were a belated attempt to somehow please his parents. Perhaps he felt that his father’s abandonment and his mother’s suicide were somehow his fault. Maybe he thought that he did not please his parents through some deficiency of his own. His father only recognized him as his son once he was declared the best student at Ponce High School. Before that, he had been known as Pedro Campos rather than Pedro Albizu Campos. He had been fatherless throughout his childhood and adolescence despite occasional visits from his father El Vizcaino. He only had a father when he had established that he deserved it.”
“I think,” Susana said, “that Albizu Campos tried to right a wrong when he fought to oust the Yankees from Puerto Rico, and it was a wrong both personal and political. In his mind, the beleaguered Puerto Rican people represented his doomed mother. The Americans took the place of the foreigner who destroyed her. His whole life – to the extent you’ve explained it to me – was an effort to avenge his mother.”
“Yes, that’s a coherent interpretation,” responded Irving. “I’ll incorporate it into my work.”
“I do have one question, though. You say that Albizu Campos was a staunch Catholic. Didn’t he endorse revolutionary violence? Isn’t that inimical to the faith?”
“It is true that he eventually endorsed violence as a response to the violence of the Empire, but some say it was his Catholic faith that drove him to it, though I don’t necessarily agree. I have the notes from one of his early speeches in 1935, not long after he returned from Harvard. He does note the need for an armed struggle, but that does not refute that he was a man of faith who never missed Mass on Sundays and that he was a member of the Catholic Knights of Columbus ever since his days in law school. But here is what he said about reactive violence. ‘The Puerto Rican has a right to use violence to oppose violence. Even when a Nationalist is searched by a policeman on the street for no good cause, the Nationalist has the right to use arms to defend himself.’ Of course, he only said this after the Rio Piedras Massacre, which I discuss in another section of my work.”
“It’s interesting,” replied Susana, “that he could say he was a faithful Catholic and endorse killing any policeman who conducts a search on the street at the same time. You should definitely approach this subject carefully in your book. I’m not one to tell you what to write, but you’ve asked for my opinion and I’m giving it to you.”
“The words of the Master make sense to me,” responded Irving. “The policeman is the agent of the Empire, tasked with enforcing its rules. There was nothing sinful about seeking the liberty of the island by any means necessary. The nineteenth century revolutionaries of South America – Bolívar, Miranda, Sucre, San Martín – all engaged in acts of violence despite being Catholics because there was no alternative if they wanted to secure the independence of their lands.’”
“Can one engage in acts of evil to do good?”
“I think the Church says that in the face of longstanding tyranny armed action is not only permissible but necessary. And no one can deny we Boricuas have experienced tyranny continuously through the last four hundred years. The Master took the just war doctrine of the Catholic Church wherever it took him. But let’s not get bogged down in discussions of el Maestro’s religion. It is a side issue, after all.”
“Not at all,” responded Susana. “A man’s religion always defines his character.”
“You’re deeply religious, aren’t you, Susana?
“I was raised Catholic by my mother, but it was my Jewish father who taught me an abiding faith in God. Despite the horrors he had witnessed during the Shoah, he never lost his trust in the munificent grace of God. So yes, I see everything through the prism of my faith.”
***
During their second meeting, Irving and Susana spoke at length about Albizu Campos’ early days at Harvard Law School since they shed light on the revolutionary he would become. Irving was especially emphatic when he discussed Albizu Campos’ relationship with two men he met at Harvard: Irish nationalist Eamon de Valera, who eventually became president of an independent Ireland, and the author Rabindranath Tagore, fierce critic of the colonization of India by the British. Albizu Campos identified with both men, especially the Catholic de Valera.
“Don’t forget,” said Irving, “that de Valera’s revolutionary group Sinn Fein fought to oust the British from their island through actions which would be called terrorist by many.”
“Was Albizu Campos already planning insurrection during his studies at Harvard, or did his passion develop later? Did he believe terrorism was justified during that period of his life?”
“At a minimum, that’s where the seed was planted,” Irving replied. “He saw a kindred spirit in the Irish Catholic rebel Eamon de Valera and even collected money to support his cause. So yes, I think Albizu Campos began thinking about the liberation of his island long before graduating from law school, particularly after meeting with Valera, a man who used violence in his quest to liberate the Emerald Isle. But Albizu Campos only became a true rebel after the massacre at Rio Piedras. It was then that he put his whole life on the line, decided he would kill and die to achieve the independence of Puerto Rico. And I wouldn’t call any of his acts examples of terrorism. I would call them legitimate acts of armed resistance.”
“You mentioned the massacre at Rio Piedras,” said Susana. “Can you tell me more about it?”
“They didn’t teach you about that in your high school either nor at Vassar College for that matter. The history of Puerto Rico has been erased, purposefully blotted out. But the Americans have engaged in multiple massacres in Puerto Rico during the twentieth century. At the Ponce massacre, for example, seventeen Boricuas were killed with impunity and hundreds were injured. Many were also massacred at Rio Piedras. I write about that in my tract because I witnessed it.”
“Read from your proposal,” Susana requested.
Irving began to read.
“A group of students belonging to the Nationalist party of Albizu Campos were killed without cause at the Rio Piedras campus of the University of Puerto Rico. Students against the Nationalists’ pro-independence platform had organized a rally to denounce Albizu Campos and his followers, calling them enemies of Puerto Rico. Soon three Nationalist students appeared in a white sedan and were detained by the police, and an argument quickly followed. The police led by Colonel Riggs responded by killing the three Nationalist students while they were still in their car. Soon, another Nationalist student was murdered as he was surrendering himself to the police after a brief exchange of bullets, and an old man with no tie to the Nationalists was also killed. There were multiple other casualties – multiple bodies bloodied and maimed – and the event is known as the Rio Piedras Massacre. It was certain that the Rio Piedras Massacre unleashed a series of events that would lead Albizu Campos directly to prison for the first time.”
“Being a student at Rio Piedras I’ve heard about this matter and definitely think it should have a place in your book as well as my dissertation. But I need to learn more.”
“‘When el Maestro delivered the eulogy for those killed in the massacre, more than eight thousand people attended. Meanwhile, Colonel Riggs publicly declared ‘war to the death’ against the Puerto Rican people. Albizu Campos returned fire and announced ‘war to the death’ to the Empire. At some point, Colonel Riggs, a robust man with a blonde-haired crew cut, invited Albizu Campos to a very expensive members-only restaurant, the El Escambrón Club, and offered him one hundred fifty thousand dollars and the Governorship of the island if he would just back off. Albizu Campos responded by saying, ‘This lunch is over. The Republic of Puerto Rico is not for sale. If I cared a whit about money or power, do you think I would voluntarily live in such penury?’”
“Rio Piedras was the tipping point for the Puerto Rican patriots,” Irving continued, “and Puerto Rican contemporary history would thenceforth be divided in two. For the Nationalists there was life before the Rio Piedras Massacre and life after the Rio Piedras Massacre. No longer would the Nationalists seek to achieve the overthrow of the United States government merely through speeches, elections and conventions. Now and forever more, Albizu Campos decreed that it was the time for violence, that victory would only be achieved through force of arms.”
“So, they accused Albizu Campos of inciting a riot? Did they blame him for the acts of the Nationalist students? Is that why he ended up in prison?”
“Hold on, hold on. The story isn’t over. ‘After the Rio Piedras massacre, Albizu Campos began delivering speeches about the need for armed struggle on the island. He promised swift and merciless retribution for the police who had killed his young cadres. Two young Nationalists, Hiram Rosado and Elías Beauchamp, took him at his word and decided to avenge the murder of the Nationalist students at Rio Piedras. They assassinated Colonel Riggs, the island’s Chief of Police who had promised ‘massive retribution’ against Albizu Campos. The two rebels were promptly killed as soon as they were arrested without being given a chance to retain a defense attorney or to be tried by a judge. Their murder was against the most basic tenets of American jurisprudence, which dictates that men in police custody cannot be killed. And the authorities blamed Albizu Campos for complicity in the killing. They said his words had incited Rosado and Beauchamp to engage in murder.’”
“Please continue,” said Susana. “There are certain contradictions in Albizu Campos’ character which you need to explore. I’m thinking the title of my dissertation might be ‘The Contradictions of Pedro Albizu Campos.’”
Irving read on.
“Albizu Campos, speaking at the funerals of Rosado and Beauchamp in front of thousands, did not cower but doubled down. As he spoke, a small airplane operated by two Nationalists dropped hundreds of white lilies upon the crowds. ‘We are burying Beauchamp and Rosado, two brave heroes who sacrificed their lives for an independent Borinquén. They represent the best that our island has to offer, and we must strive to emulate them. To give up your life for the cause of Puerto Rican liberation is the height of courage.’ Albizu Campos ended by saying the two men were not assassins but patriots and that the true killers had been Colonel Riggs and his Insular Police. ‘It was Colonel Riggs who had declared open and manifest war against the Puerto Rican people, including its students and its children, as seen in Rio Piedras and so many other places.’”
Irving paused briefly before continuing, wiped his brow and proceeded.
“The response of the Empire to the speeches of Albizu Campos was swift and brutal. They raided his home and put him in chains suggesting he was the instigator of the murder of Colonel Riggs.”
“Did the authorities have evidence that Albizu Campos was the mastermind of the assassination?” Susana asked. “Did he direct the plot to murder the head of the policemen? Then his arrest would make some sense.”
“Absolutely not,” Irving replied. “In fact, there was so little evidence of a link between the two assassins and Albizu Campos that the prosecution focused on allegations that Albizu Campos and five other Nationalist leaders were guilty of conspiracy to win independence for Puerto Rico through force of arms rather than conspiracy to murder Colonel Riggs. The first trial ended up in hung jury, split along racial lines, as all seven Puerto Ricans on the jury voted to acquit while the five Americans voted to condemn. The judge ordered a retrial, but this time the judge made sure the jury consisted of ten Americans and only two Boricuas. Not surprising that on retrial the majority of the jurors – all of them Americans – found Albizu Campos guilty of sedition. The judge – another white American – swiftly sentenced him to ten years at the Atlanta Penitentiary. And for what? For giving some speeches. Isn’t free speech sacrosanct to the Americans? Don’t forget the transcripts of el Maestro’s public statements were exhibit one at his trial. The linchpin of the case against him was his flagrant violations of the Gag law, which forbade any speech promoting the independence of the island as seditious. And when the jurors voted to convict because they were white men and Albizu Campos was a man of color, the long inexorable destruction of the martyr Albizu Campos truly began.”
***
At some point, Irving realized that he had become Scheherazade the storyteller and Susana Cohen had become his King Sharyar. The difference was that while Scheherazade would lose her life if she stopped telling her stories, Irving would be deprived of the company of a woman he loved if he ceased telling his. And it was clear that what he felt for Susana was love rather than base physical lust, tenderness rather than mere sexual desire. He became immensely happy just by hearing the timbre of her voice as she arrived, loved her hands, her brilliance, her unalloyed simplicity. At first, he thought that he was falling in love with her because she resembled his deceased wife Blanca, but soon he realized that she was nothing like Blanca. There was a delightful mixture of intelligence and naivete in Susana, a touching combination of strength and docility which his deceased wife never displayed. So, he was left with a quandary. How could he prolong his story in order for the visitations not to end and for his soul not to endure the agony of separation? He decided to add new sections depicting events to which he did not refer in his first draft in order to keep Susana’s curiosity piqued at all times. Among other new scenes, Irving added a section of the Ponce massacre which was not in his original book proposal because by that time Albizu Campos was already in jail. In retrospect, it was a good decision to include that reference in a revised draft of his proposal for it shed light on the Master’s gesta.
“Let me read what I have,” said Irving soon after Susana arrived on a Friday evening.
“Please,” responded Susana as she sat cross-legged on the floor. She was wearing distressed jeans cut off at the knee and a T-shirt bearing an image of the Puerto Rican flag, her soft brown hair in a barrette as usual.
“The Nationalists obtained a permit to conduct a grand parade in Ponce, Puerto Rico’s second largest city, with the intention of protesting the incarceration of Albizu Campos and other Nationalist leaders. I was there myself and still remember the might of the policemen’s billy clubs. When thousands arrived at the plaza for the demonstration, they were advised that the competent authorities at the order of Governor Winship had revoked the permit and a group of policemen armed with machine guns ordered the crowds to disperse. At that time, a young Nationalist gave the orders for the unarmed Cadets and Nurses of the Liberation Army to march in military formation. I decided to follow suit. The rest isn’t quite clear, but the armed policemen surrounded the crowds and began to discharge their weapons. It was sheer pandemonium as it was Palm Sunday and many of those felled by the police were just returning from Mass and had nothing to do with the protest. The people ran out in all directions and cried in desperation as the bullets flew from the ubiquitous machine guns. The massacre lasted all of thirty minutes but seventeen people were killed, including fourteen men, two women and a girl, and more than two hundred were seriously wounded as they pleaded for mercy or tried desperately to escape, sometimes with their skulls fractured by the policemen’s truncheons. In addition, one hundred and fifty were arrested including myself even though under American law we were merely exercising our rights to peaceful assembly, enshrined in the Empire’s Constitution. The message from the policemen at Ponce couldn’t have been clearer. Speech was now a crime, especially when that speech espoused the idea that Puerto Rico would one day be free. And the policemen deflected all blame by saying it was the Puerto Ricans that had attacked them, and they were acting in self-defense.”
“I think you’re omitting something from your story which I think is fundamental,” Susana complained. “Albizu Campos’ revolutionary message was suffused with Christ’s Gospel of Love. You mention it in passing in a few of the sections of your work, but you never give it the attention it deserves. I’ve been reading el Maestro’s sermons as I do the research for my dissertation, and he often said that Puerto Rican independence would bring the Kingdom of God to earth. He customarily involved his Cadets in public acts of religious worship. Here, let me see. I brought my notes. ‘El Maestro required that the Cadets assist Mass in the church at Lares and at the Cathedral in San Juan to recall important events in the independence movement. The Cadets entered the church in military formation, followed by Pedro Albizu Campos and the other leaders of the Nationalist Party, who sat in the front pews of the Church. After listening to a rousing homily about God’s plan of liberation, they then marched out into the streets to commence their political demonstration. But there was no doubt the march of the Cadets had a religious flavor. Before the Cadets left the Cathedral in their military uniform, Albizu Campos reminded them of the words of one of Saint Paul’s epistles to the Corinthians: ‘We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body.’”
“To summarize,” Susana concluded, only half in jest, “el Maestro taught his Cadets military training in the morning and their Catechism in the afternoon. Let us not forget that many of those massacred at Ponce were carrying palm leaves in their hands in remembrance of the Christ’s triumphant march into Jerusalem. Let us not forget that among the first to be killed was a youth carrying a crucifix made of palm leaves. Let us not forget that by the end of the day a Catholic priest was among the dead.”
“I haven’t written at length about that because Albizu Campos’ Catholicism is tangential interest at best. It was a personal quirk and nothing more. I’ve said all that needed to be said. The only reason I mention it at all is that it shows how Albizu Campos embraced the faith of the Irish nationalists and their conclusion that colonized men and women can violently resist their oppressors under the banner of the Cross.”
“How can you say that?” Susana asked. “Were it not for his committed faith in God, he could not long have endured the punishment he received at the hands of the Empire which you’ve so convincingly described. No, your story is deficient. You’re glossing over one of the most important parts of his character. But to be true to the history you must give space on the page to Albizu Campos’ lifelong Catholicism. His deep-seated spirituality informed his politics, even his eventual decision to turn to the armed struggle. He never ceased to preach that the Puerto Rican was made in the image and likeness of God. And he never reneged of his faith, not even when the Empire went at him with all its might and made his own body a place of war. Don’t think that I haven’t been reading about him on my own. I’m keeping copious notes which I intend to use in my dissertation.”
“As long as people’s faith leads them to seek liberation, I have no quarrel with their faith.”
“You have no faith at all, do you, Irving?”
“I used to a long time ago, but I no longer feel God’s presence in my life.”
“Don’t expect an outlandish revelation from God. Just be prepared for the small moment when Jesus imparts His sanctifying grace upon you. At that time, you will have the opportunity to accept or reject His grace.”
“I don’t know, Susana. I’ve been a nonbeliever for over thirty years. If Jesus hasn’t spoken with me during all that time, why would He do so now? A la vejez viruela, as the saying goes. There is no smallpox in old age. And why would God care about me anyway, an insignificant speck of dust in His creation, a little nothing, a little worm?”
“Just be open to His voice. God won’t scream at you. He will call you to him in a whisper. But when you realize He is offering you His grace, your whole life will be transformed. Let yourself be surprised by God.”
“I’ll think about it, Susana. I’ll think about it long and hard. I won’t search for Him, but I shall allow Him to find me if He exists. It would be wonderful if He actually helped direct human lives. But don’t expect any miracles. I’m a hardened atheist. Now, let’s get back to the task at hand.”
“Do you really think that what you call liberation will happen one day?” asked Susana. “I think most Puerto Ricans are satisfied with the status quo.”
“Albizu Campos once proclaimed that it didn’t matter how many Boricuas accepted colonization because of its supposed economic benefits, and a small cadre of men and women could incite the revolution. As for himself, Albizu Campos would willingly accept torture, incarceration, abuse – all for the cause of a liberated Borinquén. In fact, he could have left prison if he wanted to, but his principles did not allow it.”
“Can you explain that?” Susana asked. “How could he have left prison? You’ve told me he had a ten-year sentence, after all.”
“I refer to that in my proposal, Susana. While Albizu Campos was languishing in an Atlanta prison, he received word from the Empire. Apparently, those in power, including Governor Winship, offered Albizu Campos and his seven followers their freedom, so long as they agreed to a few conditions. In my proposal, I quote directly from the Master.”
“‘What are those conditions?’ asked Albizu Campos.’”
“‘You shall be allowed to return to Puerto Rico and engage in politics. You are free to argue for independence as you see fit. And your Nationalist Party will be on the ballot in every election.’”
“‘I asked what the conditions were,’ interrupted Albizu Campos.’”
“‘Pretty simple,’ replied his interlocutor. ‘You will be allowed to campaign for the island’s independence, but you shall never proclaim the need for armed struggle to achieve it nor ever encourage your followers to resort to violence. The Cadets must be dissolved.’”
“At that time,” continued Irving, “Albizu Campos was already over fifty, and he spoke in a slow drawl. He had pelo malo, clipped short and nearly white, a gently smiling face which betrayed a deep tranquility and large dark eyes.”
“Isn’t it true that he became more of a Catholic once he was imprisoned?” Susana asked. “I think I’ve read something about that.”
“It is true that Albizu Campos had made peace with his condition and had turned fervently to his Catholic faith once he was imprisoned. His grand quixotic struggle was always quasi-religious. He never ceased mixing up his politics with his faith, never ceased believing Jesus was protecting the Puerto Rican people and was willing social justice. I must say in passing that his Catholicism was also a political act although I do not mean to say that it was any less authentic. Among many reasons, he chose to be a Catholic because the Puerto Rican people were Catholics and those from the Empire were not.”
“I don’t understand,” Susana intervened. “He was offered a full pardon and even allowed to continue in politics. But obviously, he didn’t accept the deal since you’ve told me he spent ten years in prison. Or am I wrong?”
“No, you’re not wrong at all,” Irving replied. “You’re incisive as always. Let me read what I wrote on this subject.”
“Albizu Campos slowly wagged his trembling index finger in the air. By then his relentless decline had already begun. ‘No, no, sir,’ he said. ‘That is a Faustian bargain. You pretend to give me freedom when you are offering me chains instead. We shall never attain liberty through elections. Even if your elections were fair – and they are not – the biggest share of votes the Nationalist Party could receive would be fifteen percent. The only way to achieve freedom from the Empire is through armed struggle. Elections are a chimera. They are a sham. If anything, all my followers will boycott elections until the Empire leaves the country.’”
“That’s what I thought,” said Susana in a pensive voice. “It was Albizu Campos who resisted compromise. All they were asking him was to renounce violence.”
“That’s what the Americans said, but in truth they were trying to muzzle him. The perception that armed struggle is needed to achieve liberation is not the same as a thirst for violence. Back then, things were as bad as they are today. The Americans controlled the police, the courts, the press and the economy. And they had promised the Boricuas to quash them economically if they ever decided to become independent. Senator Millard Tydings offered independence to the Puerto Ricans through the electoral process, but his proposed law had a poison pill. After the vote for independence, the Empire would heavily tax all commerce with the island and impose tariffs on all Puerto Rican products sold to the United States. Not too many people – only the most patriotic and committed – would vote for their own starvation. As Luis Muñoz Marín, eventually the first Puerto Rican Governor of the island, protested, ‘Would you give that destruction the name of independence?’”
“You’d prefer to live in a completely independent Puerto Rico even if impoverished?” Susana asked in disbelief.
“Absolutely. There is nothing more odious to me than seeing the American Stars and Stripes flying in Puerto Rico, nothing as odious as seeing our children say the Pledge of Allegiance in the morning, nothing as odious as knowing our young, brave Boricuas are forced to fight, kill and die for the Empire in the jungles of Vietnam. And don’t buy the argument that we are better off economically under the Americans. Do you realize Americans now own more than eighty percent of arable lands in Borinquén? Don’t you realize that those who benefit from the economic status quo are the rapacious capitalists from the mainland? Don’t you realize the Americans have imposed servitude in Puerto Rico by paying our peasants and laborers an unfair wage?”
“I take it Albizu Campos decided to stay in prison?”
“There was nothing else to do. To accept freedom under the conditions proposed by the Americans would only have brought dishonor to his name. He was the President of the Nationalist Party even while he was in prison and had an obligation to lead his flock – into martyrdom if necessary.”
At the end of the evening, Susana kissed Irving on the face to say goodnight and delighted when her lips briefly and unintentionally met with his. For an instant – for a microsecond, for a fleeting moment– Susana thought of giving Irving a full-throated kiss. But there were two things she was sure of: that she had fallen in love with Irving and that her love was doomed to fail. She cleaned the lipstick off his face and soon, still blushing, she departed. Irving would not have responded anyway, even if she lingered, because he had never in all his years in academia made overtures to any of his students, not even after his wife Blanca died of cancer with an undeveloped fetus in her womb. So then and there, Irving decided to avoid any proximity whatsoever with Susana. Susana made the same decision. Thereafter, there would always be a subtle tension in their interactions.
But true love is not so easily thwarted nor could their inhibitions last for long. Try as they might, they could not conceal that at a minimum they felt a deep affection for each other.
***
By the time of their fifth meeting, Susana realized that she felt something meaningful towards her fifty-year-old professor. She, too, awaited their weekly meetings with joy and anticipation and was inexpressibly happy every time she looked him in the eyes. In Irving, she found a man who knew the secret history of Puerto Rico better than anyone and that excited her incipient love for him. And it wasn’t just his brilliance that made Susana become attracted to him. It was his passion for Puerto Rico, his plaintive cry of grievance, the fact he embodied the aspirations of an entire people. Irving had the pelo malo and swarthy skin of the typical Puerto Rican – the hair and color of Susana’s mother – and it incited her to love him all the more. So, she listened to him in rapt absorption as they shared a dish of mofongo while they discussed his work while sitting at a kitchen table.
“When Pedro Albizu Campos was released from prison and returned to Puerto Rico at the end of 1947, his militancy did not let up. If anything, his fierce anti-colonial struggle intensified, and he seemed not to fear another incarceration. Instead of silencing him, his long years at the Atlanta Penitentiary had made him all the more certain of the justice of his cause. He would fight for the independence of Puerto Rico no matter what violence was needed to achieve it and no matter what sacrifice he needed to endure. ‘The Empire,’ he proclaimed while speaking to thousands who had massed at the San Juan Cathedral upon his return to Puerto Rico, ‘seek the annihilation of the Boricua people. Given their behavior, we have a God-given obligation to eliminate them instead.’ At the same time, he started to rebuild his little Army of Liberation, enlisting new Cadets to parade in protest and practice in the use of firearms for the moment when their Army of Liberation would finally declare open and manifest war against the Empire and all its minions. Rather than accepting the government‘s offer to participate in elections, he doubled down on his message that the island would only be free after a long period of armed struggle. ‘If you want freedom,’ he told his many followers again and again, ‘you must fight for it.’’’
“Didn’t the Americans see that as sedition?” Susana asked. “I mean – if he’s actually proclaiming the need to violently overthrow the U.S. – wouldn’t they find that unacceptable? Wouldn’t they use all their might to silence Albizu Campos?”
“Of course, the Empire wouldn’t allow Albizu Campos to spit in their faces for too long, especially since by that time President Truman had already indicated he would approve the Puerto Rico Federal Relations Act, whose purpose was to make the island territory a commonwealth of the United States. The proposed law promised certain cosmetic changes in the relationship between Borinquén and the Empire, allowing the singing of La Borinqueña for example and promising to no longer ban the Puerto Rican flag. Despite the proposed changes, Puerto Rico remained a colony and Albizu Campos could not abide it. He continued to preach that the new Commonwealth law did not rid Puerto Ricans of their colonial masters and redoubled on his call to violence. It did not take too long for the United States to react to el Maestro’s insistent prodding to his followers, that they should reject Commonwealth status as another form of tyranny. On October 31, 1950, the Nationalists gave Truman the excuse. The event would come to be known as the Nationalist Rebellion of 1950 or the cry of Jayuya.”
“I’ve heard about that,” said Susana. “The Nationalists attacked police barracks, government buildings, and la Fortaleza all in a concerted attack. I was told at the Caribbean School that it was a huge act of terrorism. During the Rebellion, the Nationalists even attempted to assassinate President Truman in Washington, D.C.”
“That is what the Americans would want people to believe. To this day, they benefit from the colonial power structure. Albizu was eventually given an eighty-nine-year prison sentence for the attempted assassination of Truman although there was absolutely no evidence that he had ever given the order to attack the American President to the perpetrators. On the contrary, one of the rebels, Oscar Collazo, brought with him a letter from Albizu Campos addressed to Truman, suggesting the purpose was not to kill him but to have their voices heard.”
“Did you write about that in your tract? I’d be interested in knowing how you framed the issue. If it was not a day of unbridled violence, then what was it?”
“It was a day of glory,” replied Irving. “And I definitely have written about the Nationalist Rebellion of 1950. How can you write a faithful account of Albizu Campos’ struggle without referring to that event?”
Then Irving began to read from his text.
“The Nationalists took over the city of Jayuya and hoisted a Puerto Rican flag above the balcony of a hotel, a practice that was forbidden at the time. That event came to be known as the grito de Jayuya, reminiscent of the grito de Lares by Betances in the nineteenth century. Puerto Ricans had been incarcerated merely for flying their flag, had been killed for defending their flag. At the same time there were attacks on government buildings and police stations from Peñuelas, Arecibo, Mayagüez, Naranjito, Ponce, San Juan, and Utuado, always with the Borinqueña flag at hand. By hoisting that flag at Jayuya, the rebels were publicly declaring the existence of the Republic of Puerto Rico and rejecting the Empire. There was also an armed attack on La Fortaleza, home to the Governor’s mansion, but it was a suicidal mission. Although the Nationalists arrived with machine guns and Molotov cocktails, the rebels were vastly outnumbered and all the rebels soon were killed. Meanwhile the vaunted Governor Luis Muñoz Marín hid under his desk.”
“A Republic of Puerto Rico,” Susana sighed. “An imaginary republic after all…an impossible utopia in the Antilles… .”
Listening to Irving, Susana became increasingly convinced of the tragedy of Puerto Rican history and the necessity to reverse it.
“The dream is deferred, perhaps,” said Irving. “But it is the destiny of the Puerto Rican nation to be free. If that is imaginary, then it is a most sublime imagination. It is true that Jayuya was recaptured by the police forces and soldiers of the Empire, that they even used airplanes to do so. The New York Times reported that the effect of the five-hundred-pound bombs was like an earthquake had hit Jayuya, but that does not detract from the heroism of Albizu Campos’ martyrs nor do the asymmetrical conditions of our liberating gesta lead me to despair.”
“So Albizu Campos was behind it?”
“Let me read this.”
“Albizu Campos firmly believed that he and his little army could defeat the Empire through force of arms. His inspiration was the Easter Rising in Ireland which he had learned about from Eamon de Valera at the time he was in law school. Some people thought Albizu Campos was delusional, and at certain times in his life both friend and foe concluded that he was demented. Didn’t he realize the enormity of his quest and his enemies’ ability to destroy him? But if he was a madman, he was a madman like Don Quixote who famously said true madness is seeing things as they are and not as they should be. At the time the law of the Mordaza – the Gag rule – was in full effect. It was illegal to support the independence of Puerto Rico, illegal to sing patriotic songs, illegal to have a Puerto Rican flag in your own home, certainly illegal to have a portrait of Albizu Campos on your wall. After the great rebellion of 1950, Governor Luis Muñoz Marín used the Gag law, formally known as US Public Law 53, to arrest thousands of Puerto Ricans without due process, including members of the Nationalist Party and persons who did not vote for him. Violators of Public Law 53 were routinely given prison sentences of over a dozen years. The whole purpose of the Gag law was to silence Albizu Campos and his Nationalist cadres.”
“So, Albizu Campos decided to declare war?’ asked Susana.
“I believe Albizu Campos ordered the insurrection as a response to threats that the government of the Empire would soon unleash the dogs of war against him. He believed the violent persecution and assassination of Nationalists would soon happen. At a minimum, it cannot be doubted that Albizu Campus was the ideological master behind the great rebellion although he may have considered its purpose was not to achieve victory but to make a huge symbolic act of protest. But if he knew of the coming battles, why did he make no effort to go into hiding, instead remaining at his home which he knew was surrounded by soldiers and agents of the FBI? That question remains unanswered to this day. Perhaps his followers had kept it all a secret from him.
“The Governor of the island, Luis Muñoz Marín,” continued Irving, “immediately concluded that Albizu Campos had orchestrated the massive rebellion, since the uprising was ubiquitous and carefully thought out. El Maestro certainly knew about the insurrection soon after it happened, since the Empire’s troops immediately surrounded the house where he was staying along with members of his inner circle. Through their bullhorns, the policemen insistently demanded that he surrender, all the while shooting bullets through his windows. Three of his allies turned themselves in after Doris Torrisola was wounded and only Alvaro Rivera Walker remained with the beleaguered patriot. Albizu Campos approached a statue of the brown-skinned Virgin of Monserrate, which he had in his bedroom, and prayed not to avoid capture but to face his enemies with courage. He told Rivera Walker that he welcomed martyrdom and would not surrender to the Empire under any circumstances. Meanwhile, he could hear the rattle of machine gun fire through a window, and his friend became more and more apprehensive, urging Albizu Campos to turn himself in so as to avoid a certain death.”
“‘Death does not concern me,’ replied Albizu Campos. ‘If they kill me, I shall be resurrected in my people. Perhaps by accepting the most extreme sacrifice, I shall encourage others to do the same. I’ve often said that the path to independence will be irrigated with the blood of patriots. Salvation in Christ was possible only because the Lord shed blood.’”
“‘You can do so much more for your people,’ objected Alvaro Rivera Walker, ‘if you remain alive and are not killed. The masses need your guidance and instruction. Remember how the cause of freedom waned while you were incarcerated, but quickly revived once you left the prison and came back to Puerto Rico as a free man. Remember how the number of your Cadets swelled after your return from the Atlanta Penitentiary.’”
“‘I haven’t been a free man for years,’ protested Albizu Campos. ‘I am under police surveillance night and day. The FBI follows me wherever I go. J. Edgar Hoover himself is keenly interested in my comings and goings. This day would have happened one way or another. And being killed is not the punishment I most fear. It’s the certainty of all forms of ingenious torture reserved for the so-called ‘mongrel’ race the Americans deem to be subhuman.’”
“Then the soldiers threw tear gas grenades through one of the windows,” Irving continued, “and the suffocating Albizu Campos was forced to escape to the place where the Insular Police were waiting for him. He did not raise his arms in the air in an act of surrender for he wanted to be shot.”
“Don’t you see the parallels?” asked Susana. “Don’t you see in his immolation el Maestro was emulating the actions of the Christ? Albizu Campos relived the Lord’s Passion that frightful November night in 1950 although based on what I know so far that his Passion would last for years. There was always something sacred to his struggle. And it was his veneration of Our Lady of Monserrate, Puerto Rico’s black Madonna, that would get him through it. The Master once said that Nationalism was the same as spirituality and that the quest for independence was a search for spiritual plenitude. He also said that the finger of God was directing the future of Puerto Rico and that Jesus’ project was one of liberation. He saw the face of the Christ in the faces of the colonized citizens of Borinquén. He never ceased to pray. I have read his speeches, and he often said that acts to implement social justice must always be joined by prayer.”
“Yes, that’s true, Susana. Despite all he went through, Albizu Campos remained a man of faith to the end.”
“Maybe you should think about that,” Susana answered. “If Albizu Campos remained a Catholic despite all the suffering he went through, why should you be an atheist given everything God is giving you?”
Susana fervently desired that Irving convert to Catholicism. She believed that as an atheist, Irving could never have a relationship with her for she feared he would require acts of love which were verboten to her as a committed Catholic. By then, their meetings were a kind of balm for both of them, and each other’s breathing patterns fluctuated nervously as soon as they began each rendezvous. Neither would admit it, however, either to each other or to themselves. Nor did they fully comprehend that their weekly appointments had become a welcome respite from the inevitable displeasures of their ordinary weeks and the stubborn boredom of a loveless life. Instead of recognizing the feelings they had for each other, they both succumbed to a tenacious scrupulosity which didn’t even allow their hands to touch. This was a logical continuation to the way they had always treated each other, avoiding any discussion of their private lives and concentrating on the book proposal at all times. Irving hadn’t even told Susana that he was a widower until it slipped out unintentionally one time while they were discussing Albizu Campos’ widow. Susana never told him that the only boyfriend who mattered in her life had ended up in a seminary nor that she had never said “I love you” to the man. Neither had even used the words “debauchery” in each other’s presence.
Irving was terrified that Susana might be seeing him as a father figure. Without admitting it to himself, he hoped that the wisdom of his years would make up for his lack of youthful vigor. It was a good thing she had never mentioned the seminarian, for he would have experienced a bitter jealousy if she had done so.
***
“Albizu Campos was incarcerated for the events of the fall of 1950. As in his trial several years earlier, the verdict was ultimately dictated by race, as all the jurors were white Americans and none were Puerto Rican blacks. Albizu Campos was immediately transferred to the La Princesa jail in Old San Juan, where he was assigned a tiny prison cell, with only a small barred window for ventilation and a tiny light bulb on the ceiling. It was there that he made manifest for the first time that he was beset by some type of mental illness, as he sometimes rambled incoherently throughout the day, speaking in incomplete sentences and yelling at his guards as if they were not his captors but his captives. A doctor assigned to examine him diagnosed Albizu Campos with incipient paranoia and suggested that he be released from prison, but Governor Muñoz Marín would have none of it. After all, there would be nothing so pleasing to the powers that be than to turn their implacable enemy into a harmless madman. So, they amped up their attacks and chose to ignore what the physician had discovered. It was certain that it was their abuse that was driving him to madness.”
“So, there was a diagnosis of insanity?” Susana asked.
“Doctor Alcantara concluded that el Maestro’s condition had been brought about by long months of solitary confinement as well as the fact he had an inadequate diet. Everything was made worse because many times Albizu Campos refused to eat, fearing that the food was poisoned.
“Once a guard – he couldn’t have been older than twenty – brought Albizu Campos his daily meal of beans and rice. The Maestro sniffed the food with an expression of disgust and spoke to the guard with an angry voice.”
“‘You eat it first,” he commanded. ‘Here, take this spoon and have some arroz con habichuelas. If you don’t eat it, I’ll conclude that the food is poisoned.’”
“From then on, Albizu Campos would consume nothing that was not eaten by one of his young guards first.”
“Was that a product of his mental imbalance?” Susana asked. “Or was there a credible threat that his life was in danger?”
“Yes, it was a legitimate fear. By that time, the Americans were loudly proclaiming that they had agreed to grant sovereignty to the island. Governor Muñoz Marín said Borinquén would soon no longer be a colony but a commonwealth like those of the United Kingdom. The Governor of Puerto Rico and the Americans in charge certainly feared the reappearance of Albizu Campos could gum up the works. They feared him for the simple reason that the prisoner was prepared to speak the truth. The Commonwealth was just another form of tyranny. The election to consider the supposedly new status of the island was a sham.”
“But those who hated him had arrived at another way to destroy him,” continued Irving. “Instead of only punishing him with solitary confinement, el Maestro claimed that he had been intentionally attacked by radioactive radiation.”
“Did that actually happen?” Susana asked. “Or was that accusation a symptom of his mental delusions?‘
“Oh, it happened all right. The purpose of the radiation was to reduce Albizu Campos to a shadow of himself. If he was murdered, he would become a martyr. As an aging madman, he would simply fade away. But it’s true that the authorities tried to rebuff his claims by saying that he was mad. Governor Muñoz Marín, for example, protested in dark humor that Albizu Campos was a lunatic who constantly wrapped himself in cold wet towels, in order to protect himself from mysterious machines throwing nuclear rays at him from a great distance.’”
“How could that ever be established, that Albizu Campos was subjected to radiation?” Susana asked. “Did they put him in a machine or something like that?”
“I’m not sure whether it was a machine, but he was definitely attacked by radiation.The radiation was having all sorts of negative effects on the health of el Maestro. He was in his late fifties but seemed considerably older, with trembling hands and saliva often spilling down his mouth. He was subjected to Total Body Irradiation for several years until it killed him. There were various symptoms, but the worst thing was the pain. He had bruises all over his body caused by the radiation and they smarted like bright lightning. The sores on his feet made it difficult for him to walk, and the radiation caused his legs, chest and neck to swell. His extremities were all blackened or crimson red. And there are photographs to prove it. In one picture, we see Albizu Campos’ legs reddened as if they had been burnt. In another, we see the scars and lesions on his back, as if he had been whipped. And eventually, Albizu Campos demanded that a physician treat him. Faced with international pressure, his captors allowed it. Dr. Orlando Daumy, a well-known radiologist and president of the Cuban Cancer Association, examined Albizu Campos and his diagnosis was the sores on Albizu Campos’ body were unquestionably produced by radiation burns.”
“Did that really happen?” asked the incredulous Susana. “Could our government have engaged in such depravity? And we’re talking about Governor Muñoz Marín. I always thought of him as a hero in Puerto Rican history.”
“Governor Muñoz Marín was Albizu Campos’ tyrant, complicit with the Americans in his torture and murder. In vain, el Maestro had pleaded for relief from the prison warden. In vain had his wife Doña Laura Meneses enlisted luminaries from throughout the world to demand his sentence be commuted by Governor Muñoz Marín. Only three years later, after el Maestro was diagnosed with senile dementia praecox, did Governor Muñoz Marín agree to commute his eighty-year sentence, but the Governor did not do it for humanitarian reasons. The Governor simply did not want Albizu Campos to die in prison and considered him harmless given his mental and physical instability. Not surprisingly, Albizu Campos refused to be paroled unless all other imprisoned Nationalists were freed with him. Governor Muñoz Marín responded by telling him he had no choice. So, one fine summer day in September 1953, Pedro Albizu Campos walked out into the streets of San Juan, a lot older, a lot weaker, with death already stalking him, but a free man once again.”
“Why do you say the radiation treatment killed him then?” asked Susana. “I mean – if he was released from prison?”
“We’ll get to that in a week. But just to give you an idea, his mistreatment for years and the atomic torture he endured eventually led him to suffer from a cerebral thrombosis, which paralyzed half his body and rendered him virtually unable to speak. And just because he was released from prison in 1953 did not mean that the Empire was through with him. The worst was yet to come.”
“He was murdered in the 1950s and died in 1965,” Irving concluded.
“How could that be?” asked Susana.
***
“You’re going to like this section,” said Irving with a beaming smile.
“Why is that?”
“This section of my work has to do with Lolita Lebrón, the greatest woman in Puerto Rican history. Have you heard about her?”
“I have a general idea. Do you think I should refer to her in my dissertation?”
“Let me read this and then you can think about it. ‘Lolita Lebrón never met Albizu Campos, but they were kindred spirits. Like el Maestro, Lolita was willing to kill and die for the cause of Puerto Rican independence. She was willing to sacrifice everything, even her relationship with her children, in order to resist the Empire’s domination of her island. Unlike most of Albizu Campos’ followers, she lived in New York City rather than Puerto Rico and that let her see another part of the Puerto Rican nation. She saw those who had been exiled to the mainland and suffered daily abuse and discrimination. At some point, she assumed a leadership position with the Nationalist Party in New York and thereafter was frequently in contact with Albizu Campos. Soon she received a missive from the distant prócer, and he advised her to choose three places in the United States which could be the subject of ‘direct action.’ But instead of providing the list with three places she suggested a single place to be attacked, the seat of the American Empire in Washington, D.C.’”
“The White House?” queried Susana.
“The attack was better than that. Lolita Lebrón decided on a plan to shoot up the United States House of Representatives, where hundreds of Congressmen were congregated. They were bringing the war to the Empire whereas in the past the war was fought only in Puerto Rico. Lolita, upon being arrested, claimed her intention was never to take lives, but five Congressmen were shot that day, including one in the chest. Under the circumstances, the conclusions of the American court were not wide off the mark. Lolita Lebrón had intended to kill as many representatives as possible although at the most important moment, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
“Lolita prayed the Our Father to completion once she sat at her seat at the House of Representatives. Then she unfurled a large Puerto Rican flag and cried out ¡Viva Puerto Rico! as her confederates Rafael Cancel Miranda, Andrés Figueroa Cordero, and Irving Flores began to fire indiscriminately from the visitors’ gallery at the throng of Congressmen below them.”
“So, Lolita Lebrón was a Catholic as well?” asked Susana.
“The whole Nationalist project was imbued with a Catholic spirituality as you have correctly noted throughout our talks. Now I’ll get to the rest of this.”
“The Congressmen ran in all directions to escape the bullets. Since Lolita was the leader of the insurgent group, she was given a sentence of fifty years in prison even though all her shots were directed at the ceiling. But Lolita and her group did something historic. Not since the War of 1812 had any enemies of the Empire breached the Capitol. Governor Muñoz Marín immediately flew to the United States capital, where he decried the assault as the work of ‘lunatics, Communists and fascists’ and apologized profusely to his American taskmasters. He didn’t apologize to the people of Puerto Rico for having made such an attack necessary as a result of his collusion with the Empire.”
“’Wasn’t that an act of terrorism?’ asked Susana. ‘I understand the justice of their cause, but hundreds of Congressmen could have been killed.’”
“When peaceful revolution is impossible,” responded Irving, “violent revolution is inevitable. If you’re going to kill a snake, you cut off its head. It was those very Congressmen who had determined not to give independence to Puerto Rico but to promote the fantasy that Boricuas would be free as part of an Estado Libre Asociado.”
“‘So, you think there was no alternative?”
“None,” Irving replied. “Next week I’ll tell you how the Empire exacted its vengeance.”
Listening to Irving speak, Susana had gradually become an ardent independentista. She now believed his claim that Puerto Rico needed to be free and that only violence could free the island.
***
Susana arrived at eight o’clock at Irving’s apartment as she had been doing for the past four months, wearing a long olive-green skirt and a white blouse with a small one-starred Puerto Rican flag attached to it. She felt a deep melancholy knowing that their weekly sessions were about to end but consoled herself with the knowledge that Irving had agreed to help her with her dissertation. At all events, Susana did not reveal her sadness to Irving and could not possibly admit that she could not contemplate living her life without him.
“Today we shall rejoice remembering the great feats of el Maestro,” she said in a cheerful tone. “We’re almost done with your proposal.”
“I’ve revised it completely this week, in order to please you. It’s an entirely different text. I finish the story with Albizu Campos as a victor rather than a victim. He prevails despite the relentless punishment from the Empire and its minions thanks to his faith in the Puerto Rican Virgin of Monserrate and her son Jesus.”
“I’m glad you see it that way. I should tell you that I’ve decided to join the Ejercito Popular Boricua as soon as I’m done with graduate school. I know it will come as a surprise to you, but inaction given all I know is no longer possible. At first, I only intend to help them smuggle weapons into the island. Whether I ever cross the Rubicon into acts of armed resistance only time will tell. After all you’ve taught me about Puerto Rican history, I certainly believe the United States’ efforts to continue the domination of our island must be opposed.”
“The Popular Boricua Army isn’t playing games. They loot banks in order to finance their acts of violence against the Empire. I won’t dissuade you from joining the group, but you should do it with open eyes.”
“I know what I’m getting into, but now that the Master is dead, I feel it’s imperative to continue his gesta.”
“I too have a revelation for you, but let me read this first.”
“By all means.”
“Governor Muñoz Marín was infuriated by the attack on the United States Capitol by the four Nuyorican independentistas. They had embarrassed him in front of his American taskmasters, so he decided to lash out. After all, the American men in power had thrown all their weight behind his candidacy for Governor and they could just as easily replace him. There were rumors that Muñoz Marín had a drug habit and that J. Edgar Hoover’s FBI had the evidence to prove it. Indeed, it was vox populi that he had frequented the opium dens of New York City during his adolescence and into his twenties, that he even used narcotics at the Governor’s Mansion when he was over fifty. In a word, the FBI had the capacity to destroy him by making all its findings public. If he didn’t react swiftly and mercilessly to the brazen incursion into the Capitol, it would be his own head that would roll. Many Americans in San Juan and in Washington were already saying that the attack would not have happened had it not been because the Governor had commuted the eighty-year sentence imposed on Albizu Campos by a competent American tribunal. So, without further ado – and caring not a whit about due process – Muñoz Marín announced that he was reinstating el Maestro’s prior sentence. There would be no trial, no witnesses, no jury, no judge. Albizu Campos would simply be sent back to prison based on acts allegedly committed in 1950 for which he had already been pardoned. El Maestro was never given the opportunity to argue he knew nothing of the specifics of the plot against the House of Representatives nor that it was planned without his knowledge. Never mind that Albizu Campos and Governor Muñoz Marín had once been close friends, that they had once shared the dream of an independent Borinquén. Governor Muñoz Marín had made his craven pact with the Americans – complicity for power – and he would not desist. Now that Albizu Campos is dead, the question of whether he directed the armed action against the American Congress will remain one of the enigmas of history.”
“Go on,” said Susana.
“El Maestro was sent back to his four feet by seven feet cell at La Princesa Jail, where he was again forced into solitary confinement and – according to Albizu Campos – subjected to radiation attacks once again. In a way, it doesn’t really matter if he was actually attacked with radiation or whether his fears were the product of a disturbed mental state. In either case, his condition was caused by the depravity of his jailers, who tried hard to break him through every possible means at their disposal.
“But Albizu Campos found solace in the Puerto Rican Virgin of Monserrate and did not cease praying to her, even as his jailers came close to achieving his total destruction. At some point in 1956, he suffered a massive stroke because he had never been given any medication for his cardiac problems. The coronary thrombosis rendered him an invalid, paralyzing half his body, making it difficult for him to walk and preventing him from speaking in complete sentences. But despite his calamitous condition, the rancorous Muñoz Marín declined to commute his sentence. He had made that mistake once before and was not about to repeat it. So, Albizu Campos languished in a jail as an invalid for years. But even in his darkest moments he never forgot his faith in Puerto Rico’s Madonna. It was his source of strength, his only respite.”
“I’m glad you finally understand,” said Susana.
“Albizu spent most of the day praying in his prison cell, and the rest of the time placing wet towels on his head and extremities, since that is where the radiation rays affected him the hardest. The towel about his head looked like a turban, and the guards at La Princesa jail took to calling him King of the Towels. Every day they placed a bucket of water in his cell so that he could use it to wash up. But el Maestro did not use it for that purpose. He used the water to soak his towels, the only relief to the pain caused by the atomic torture to which he was subjected and the only protection from the rays. His multicolored bruises brought him to the brink of a bottomless despair – made him feel his body was the enemy of his soul – and the Master thought of himself as a leper, whose whole body rebels against him. But he refused to give in to despair completely, even though he was on the edge of madness and sometimes vomited at the stench of his own wounds. He consoled himself by repeating again and again Jesus’ words in Saint Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians. ‘My grace is sufficient to you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Albizu was at that stage in life when some men live through where there is nothing left but God – he was separated from his family, his body was crumbling, his brilliant oratory was only a memory – but he discovered that in the worst of circumstances Jesus is enough.”
“That’s quite a sentiment,” Susana intervened. “To recognize the Christ is more than a superstition of the sanctimonious. Have you suddenly become a Catholic, Irving?”
“We haven’t reached the end of this. In 1964, el Maestro was finally released from prison – or what was left of him. He was diagnosed with senile dementia at the age of seventy-two and was no longer a threat to the Empire. He had spent a harrowing decade pacing alone in his prison cell, without any human contact other than that of the guards who fed him and removed the dirty latrine where he defecated twice a day. But for his faith, he could not have endured it without losing his mind completely. And yet there is a core of our being which belongs entirely to God and Pedro Albizu Campos found it. He was physically broken but spiritually intact. As soon as he was released from La Princesa, he demanded that a Mass be said to thank God for His munificence and grace toward himself and all of Puerto Rico. Albizu Campos managed to slur a few words before the priest read from the Gospel. El Maestro spoke of Jairus’ daughter being resurrected by the Christ and likened the young girl to the Republic of Puerto Rico.
“‘That is why I have come back to you after all these years in prison instead of choosing exile,’ he cried out, ‘because I still think our daughter can be revived. ¡Viva Cristo Rey! ¡Viva la Virgen de Monserrate! ¡Viva Puerto Rico Libre!’”
“Have you converted?” Susana insisted. “Have you experienced a radical metanoia?”
“That and more!” Irving exclaimed. “I now recognize Pedro Albizu Campos as a saint and a mystic. He was not a victim but a martyr, not a madman but a visionary. His cause was always more a religious cause than a political one. Of course, he will never be canonized for his martyrdom given his embrace of the armed struggle, but didn’t Saint Joan of Arc fight in battle too? Didn’t priests fight and kill in the French Resistance? Didn’t priests fight and kill in Mexico’s Cristero war? I plan to speak about Albizu Campos’ mysticism and saintliness at greater length in the book I intend to write. His main purpose was to bring the Kingdom of God on earth, to ensure social justice through adherence to the Gospel and devotion to the Holy Spirit. He believed in an engaged spirituality, believed that faith and politics were indivisible. Catholicism was the cornerstone of his quest for liberation, and it remained with him even when he was the merest remnant of a man.”
“How did you suddenly convert? I thought you were firm in your disbelief.”
“It wasn’t a grand miracle or a fantastic rescue. I wasn’t saved from a terrible accident nor did any of my loved ones survive the surgeon’s knife. It was a small moment of grace as you described. I was at the beach with a group of students and suddenly realized there must be a Higher Power. It wasn’t just the beauty of the beach. It was also the loveliness of the young people with me which I had seen a myriad of times. I know it seems like an insignificant episode, but it was a powerful act of God. All of a sudden, I discovered that my students’ beauty – in every sense of the term – could only be the handiwork of the Creator. When the Holy Spirit whispers His offer of grace, one can accept or reject it. I chose to accept it. God came to search for me and found me. I immediately said a prayer, my first prayer in over thirty-five years, and it was more of a conversation than anything else. It may be that my conciliatory prayer to Jesus that afternoon at the beach was the most transcendent occasion in my fifty years, the one event that ended my muted and longstanding suffocation.”
What Irving didn’t tell Susana was that part of the reason for his sudden conversion had been Susana’s presence in his life. His grand metanoia would probably never have happened but for the beauty and gentleness she exuded and which she shared with generosity every time they met.
“I’ve become a rebel, and you’ve become a Catholic by reading about the Master Albizu Canpos,” said Susana. “But if you intend to write a book, you should change the title. It should be ‘The Martyrdom of Pedro Albizu Campos.’ El Maestro was never destroyed, never lapsed into despair. He adhered to his principles to the end and was never cowed, but no one can deny that he was martyred.”
“Before you go,” said Irving, “there is something important I need to tell you.”
“Yes?”
“I would like to continue to see you.”
“We’ll be working together on my dissertation. But it will be several months until I have something for you to read.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Irving replied. “I want to see you on a romantic basis. I feel an abiding love for you, Susana. Your absence from my life would be an excruciating experience. Ever since my wife died of ovarian cancer at thirty-five years of age, my life has become a loveless routine until I found you. And I have the sense that you love me as well.”
Susana wavered, suddenly embarrassed as if she didn’t know how to respond. Then she spoke in a halting voice.
“I, too, have feelings for you, Irving – I can’t deny I have feelings for you – but I don’t think a romantic relationship is in the cards for us.”
“Is it my age? Am I too old for you? Do you see me as a father figure? Or is it that I’m a man with African blood?”
“Neither your age nor your color have anything to do with it,” answered Susana with a distressed look on her face as she began to shed a tear. “It’s just that if we have a relationship, you’ll have certain expectations. You’ll expect us to make love, and I simply can’t. I’m a Catholic as you well know, and I have every intention to protect my virginity.”
“I have no intention of debauching you and won’t demand a thing,” Irving replied. “I shall respect your decision to remain chaste, treat your modesty as sacrosanct. And don’t forget that I am now a Catholic as well. In keeping with my new faith, I intend to lead a celibate life myself. Please don’t rebuff me. My life is a tedious experience without your presence in it. Don’t tell me I have to accept an irremediable solitude. Please don’t tell me I have to resign myself to a metastasizing despair like I did after my poor Blanca died.”
“I would want nothing more than to continue seeing you,” Susana sighed. “I already suspected that you loved me. Still, I never expected you to confess it.”
Then she broadly smiled, as if to convey to Irving – without saying a word – that she understood and accepted his good intentions.
“What do you say?” asked Irving. “Can we continue to see each other on a regular basis? Will you be my date at the next academic ball?”
This time Susana did not vacillate between what she thought and what she was prepared to say.
“Yes,” she said decisively as she playfully put both arms around his neck. “Only God knows where this relationship will lead us.”
And then they kissed for the first time.
Both delighted in their kiss.
Footnotes
1 An “independentista” is a person who supports the independence of Puerto Rico.
2 A “Boricua” is another term for a Puerto Rican.
3“Borinquén” is another name for the island of Puerto Rico.
4 A “prócer” is a warrior for independence from a colonial master. The term is commonly used to refer to the liberators of South American nations who fought for independence from Spain in the 1820s.
5Luis Muñoz Marín was the first elected Governor of Puerto Rico and the first native Puerto Rican to hold that office.
6 “Desaparecidos” literally means those who were “disappeared.” The Taínos, natives of the Caribbean islands, virtually disappeared as a result of the colonization by the Spaniards.
7 Estado Libre Asociado de Puerto Rico is the official name in Spanish of the Commonwealth of Puerto Rico. The official name was suggested by Governor Luis Muñoz Marín and adopted by a constitutional assembly on 25 July 1952.
8 The Ejercito Popular Boricua means the Popular Puerto Rican Army and they were revolutionaries in Puerto Rico as far back as the 1960s.
9 “Pelo malo” literally means “bad hair.” It is a common term used to describe the hair of persons of African descent in Puerto Rico.
10“Gesta” literally means quest, but the term is commonly used to describe the liberating struggles of those who ousted the Spaniards from power in Latin America during the nineteenth century.
11 “El Maestro” literally means “the Master.” That was a term used by Albizu Campos’ followers to refer to him.