guerrilla tactics in his war against Cuban dictator Fulgencio Batista in the 1950s. But he refused to consider giving military aid and training to the Argentine guerrillas. Perón’s government had opened lucrative trade relations with Cuba, with a long-term line of credit exceeding a billion dollars.
Fidel gave an even more politically cautious criticism of the launching of the JCR. “I quoted Che on the need to coordinate revolutionary forces,” Mattini recalled. “Fidel said, ‘you’re right, you have to coordinate. Unity is good. But it should be secret. You should not make it public.’ ” Already a veteran in world Communist infighting, Fidel saw the JCR as a challenge to the traditional Soviet-line Communist parties in the four countries where it was operating.
“Our reasoning was just the opposite to Fidel’s,” said Mattini. “We wanted the JCR to be public in order to attract other organizations to join us in a united armed revolution.” The old-line Communists were mired in “reformism”; the revolution, led by the JCR, was rightfully leaving them behind.
The other pillars of the JCR plan were soon in place. On December 6, 1973, Victor Samuelson, the dapper young general manager of the Argentine branch of Exxon Corporation, was taking a leisurely walk around the swimming pool at the company’s private club outside Buenos Aires. A voice behind him growled, “Don’t go any farther. The place is surrounded.” A dozen ERP troops had taken control of the club. They grabbed Samuelson and shoved him into a car. For the next few days he was stashed in an underground pit that had been used to change the oil on cars. When negotiations for a ransom began, he was moved to a more comfortable safe house, where he played games of chess in which he routinely beat his captors.
Kidnapping had become alarmingly common in Argentina. So common that Exxon officials negotiated directly with the ERP without involving the Argentine Federal Security Police ( Seguridad Federal ), itself a force with a shady reputation whose officers were known to have pulled off a few lucrative kidnappings of their own. The bidding started at $4 million, which was about what the ERP leaders expected to get. The initial negotiations were handled by Tupamaros.When Exxon stalled at a low $2 million offer, Roberto Santucho gave the job to one of his toughest officers, Enrique Gorriarán. Months passed. In March, Exxon made a “final offer” of $10 million, and Santucho said, “OK, Take it, we can’t keep this gringo here forever.” Gorriarán, recalling the episode from his prison cell in Argentina, said he thought he could push for more. “I told them, “$14 million or we send you his ears,’ ” he said. According to Exxon officials, the threat was more deadly. Gorriarán met with the Exxon negotiator at a café in late February and delivered an ultimatum—which was later put in writing—that Samuelson would be executed in seventy-two hours if the ransom demand was not met. Exxon agreed and reached the ERP negotiator only an hour before the midnight execution deadline.
The ransom—$14.2 million—was flown from New York and delivered in packets of $100 bills packed in six suitcases. Exxon agreed to pay for food and clothing to be distributed to poor people in a Buenos Aires suburb—which accounted for the somewhat lopsided ransom amount. The ransom was by far the largest ERP had ever obtained in the half-dozen kidnappings the organization had pulled off in previous years.
Besides Samuelson, ERP kidnapped two other foreign businessmen to raise money for the JCR, according to Gorriarán. Firestone paid $3 million, and Swissair paid $3.8 million to free their executives. In the early months of 1974, the revolutionary war chest had fattened to more than $20 million.
In late January, the guerrillas’ military offensive opened in Argentina. A force of eighty troops led by ERP military commander Enrique Gorriarán made a
Fidel gave an even more politically cautious criticism of the launching of the JCR. “I quoted Che on the need to coordinate revolutionary forces,” Mattini recalled. “Fidel said, ‘you’re right, you have to coordinate. Unity is good. But it should be secret. You should not make it public.’ ” Already a veteran in world Communist infighting, Fidel saw the JCR as a challenge to the traditional Soviet-line Communist parties in the four countries where it was operating.
“Our reasoning was just the opposite to Fidel’s,” said Mattini. “We wanted the JCR to be public in order to attract other organizations to join us in a united armed revolution.” The old-line Communists were mired in “reformism”; the revolution, led by the JCR, was rightfully leaving them behind.
The other pillars of the JCR plan were soon in place. On December 6, 1973, Victor Samuelson, the dapper young general manager of the Argentine branch of Exxon Corporation, was taking a leisurely walk around the swimming pool at the company’s private club outside Buenos Aires. A voice behind him growled, “Don’t go any farther. The place is surrounded.” A dozen ERP troops had taken control of the club. They grabbed Samuelson and shoved him into a car. For the next few days he was stashed in an underground pit that had been used to change the oil on cars. When negotiations for a ransom began, he was moved to a more comfortable safe house, where he played games of chess in which he routinely beat his captors.
Kidnapping had become alarmingly common in Argentina. So common that Exxon officials negotiated directly with the ERP without involving the Argentine Federal Security Police ( Seguridad Federal ), itself a force with a shady reputation whose officers were known to have pulled off a few lucrative kidnappings of their own. The bidding started at $4 million, which was about what the ERP leaders expected to get. The initial negotiations were handled by Tupamaros.When Exxon stalled at a low $2 million offer, Roberto Santucho gave the job to one of his toughest officers, Enrique Gorriarán. Months passed. In March, Exxon made a “final offer” of $10 million, and Santucho said, “OK, Take it, we can’t keep this gringo here forever.” Gorriarán, recalling the episode from his prison cell in Argentina, said he thought he could push for more. “I told them, “$14 million or we send you his ears,’ ” he said. According to Exxon officials, the threat was more deadly. Gorriarán met with the Exxon negotiator at a café in late February and delivered an ultimatum—which was later put in writing—that Samuelson would be executed in seventy-two hours if the ransom demand was not met. Exxon agreed and reached the ERP negotiator only an hour before the midnight execution deadline.
The ransom—$14.2 million—was flown from New York and delivered in packets of $100 bills packed in six suitcases. Exxon agreed to pay for food and clothing to be distributed to poor people in a Buenos Aires suburb—which accounted for the somewhat lopsided ransom amount. The ransom was by far the largest ERP had ever obtained in the half-dozen kidnappings the organization had pulled off in previous years.
Besides Samuelson, ERP kidnapped two other foreign businessmen to raise money for the JCR, according to Gorriarán. Firestone paid $3 million, and Swissair paid $3.8 million to free their executives. In the early months of 1974, the revolutionary war chest had fattened to more than $20 million.
In late January, the guerrillas’ military offensive opened in Argentina. A force of eighty troops led by ERP military commander Enrique Gorriarán made a
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