Theodore Rex (68 page)

ALL DAY LONG
on Monday, 2 November,
junta
scouts scanned the sea northeast of Colón for signs of Bunau-Varilla’s promised gunboat. But they sighted nothing—not even the Colombian troop transport reportedly on its way. If the latter arrived first, their revolution would be much less sure of success.

The
Nashville
was, nevertheless, approaching at full speed, and Secretary Moody knew all about the troopship.
In a series of orders approved by Roosevelt, the
Dixie
had been dispatched to follow in the
Nashville’s
wake, while the
Boston, Marblehead, Concord
, and
Wyoming
were cleared for Panama City.

The coordinated grace of these trajectories on Moody’s map board was deceptive. Straight lines could not render the communications errors, coaling delays, and bureaucratic blocks that slow any naval mobilization. The
Dixie
, now in Kingston, was unable to sail immediately, while the Pacific squadron, laboring down the Mexican coast, had yet to bypass Nicaragua. Meanwhile, the Isthmus remained quiet. Neither Bunau-Varilla (anxiously awaiting Amador’s confirmation cable in New York) nor Loomis were aware that the
junta
had postponed the revolution by forty-eight hours.

Now the plot was to wait until dawn on 4 November, giving the United States time to establish a strong naval presence off both coasts, before the pro forma arrest of Governor Obaldía in bed. All other government officials of any consequence would be jailed at the same time, with the exception of
General Esteban Huertas, commander of the Panama City garrison and a willing, if expensive, recruit.
Huertas’s battalion, plus two thousand veterans of earlier revolutions, three hundred railroad workers, and a like number of firemen, should establish order without much difficulty. A rocket would signal their success, and summon the liberated people of Panama City to the Plaza de Santa Ana. Then a declaration of independence (not Bunau-Varilla’s) would be read, and a new flag (not Bunau-Varilla’s) raised above the palm trees. Meanwhile, in Colón, the chief of police, Porfilio Meléndez, would proclaim the revolution there. By nightfall, all or most of Colombia’s three hundred thousand
Istmusenos
should be celebrating their new identities as Panamanians.

Two uncertainties, however, complicated this
zarzuela
scenario: Would the American gunboat arrive before the Colombian troopship? And could it be relied on to control events in Colón?

ROOSEVELT’S LAST TACTICAL
move of the day was to approve a “secret and confidential” cable that addressed both questions. It ordered Commander
John Hubbard of the
Nashville
to “maintain free and uninterrupted transit” across the Isthmus. If the transit seemed threatened by “any armed force with hostile intent,” he was to “occupy” the railroad line. Then, with repetitive emphasis:

A similar order went out to Hubbard’s fellow commanders on the Pacific side.

Darkness settled over Washington. Two thousand miles south, in a warmer twilight, the
Nashville
dropped anchor off Colón.

INSTEAD OF RETIRING
with Edith after dinner, Roosevelt boarded a special sleeper to New York. It was his habit every election eve to head homeward to vote. He enjoyed the ritual. If Panama chose to revolt now, it would have to do it without him.

He was awakened at 6:00 to prepare for transfer across Manhattan. At the same hour in Colón, first light disclosed another overnight arrival in the harbor: the Colombian troopship
Cartagena
. While the President bathed and breakfasted,
Commander Hubbard sent an inspector aboard the
Cartagena
and found her to be swarming with
tiradores
, select sharpshooters of the Colombian Army. None of them seemed to have a clear idea of why they had been sent to the Isthmus—only that they had been ordered by General Juan Tovar to debark quickly.

On shore, Chief Meléndez and other
junta
agents braced for trouble. Colonel James Shaler, the sympathetic superintendent of the Panama Railroad,
agreed that at all costs the
tiradores
must be kept from crossing over to Panama City. Yet Commander Hubbard, inexplicably, raised no objection to the debarkation.

Hubbard’s problem was that he had not yet received his secret orders from Washington. He had no more clue than the captain of the
Cartagena
as to why he had been ordered back to Colón. At 8:20
A.M.
, therefore, the troopship nosed up to the Panama Railroad dock, and five hundred
tiradores
came ashore, bristling with weaponry.

Simultaneously, Roosevelt crossed the East River in bright fall sunshine. Behind him, the towers of Manhattan scintillated. Electoral bunting flapped in the streets, and huge crowds—too huge for Republican comfort—lined up to vote. At 8:30 he reached the Long Island Rail Road pier, settled into a waiting “special,” and its whistle blew for Oyster Bay.

Another, very short private train prepared to depart Colón for Panama City. Colonel Shaler had rigged it to accommodate the Colombian battalion’s sixteen senior officers. As he seated them, he explained that Governor Obaldía was anxious to see General Tovar as soon as possible. The
tiradores
would follow later in the day, as soon as more rolling stock could be procured. Shaler’s courtly urgency overcame Tovar’s doubts, and the train pulled out of the depot, leaving behind five hundred puzzled soldiers. The wooden houses of Colón slipped by at increasing speed. Jungle crowded in, and vegetation slapped at the sides of the car. Tovar and his aides rode over the saddle of hills Roosevelt wanted to divide, swaying in chlorophyllous gloom, suspended between two oceans.

THE PRESIDENT VOTED
above Yee Lee’s Laundry in Oyster Bay at five minutes before ten. Then he drove out along Cove Neck for a quick look at Sagamore Hill. The big house was shuttered and dark, ghostly with sheeted furniture. A heavy fume of camphor balls discouraged entry. He walked
around
the estate, and noticed that the old barn, where he had romped with so many of his children, was beginning to give way. Two dogs greeted him; a third stared indifferently. Japanese maples trembled in full, scarlet leaf, but most other trees were bare, exposing a wider panorama of Long Island Sound than he had seen all summer.

“THE BIG HOUSE WAS SHUTTERED AND DARK.”
Sagamore Hill in winter
(photo credit 18.1)

After about a half hour fighting desolate emotions, he returned to his carriage and was driven back to Oyster Bay station.

AS ROOSEVELT DID SO
, Commander Hubbard agonized over yesterday’s orders, which had at last come through to the
Nashville
. He did not quite understand them, still having no knowledge of the prerevolutionary situation in Panama. The
tiradores
did not look like a “force with hostile intent,” now that they had lost their leaders. They squatted under the arcades of Colón, chatting with women. Nor was there any sign, as far as Hubbard could see, of the “insurgent” threat Washington seemed to anticipate. He went ashore to interrogate Colonel Shaler about it, and quickly lost his innocence. Returning to the
Nashville
, he sent a cable to Washington:

A certain lack of urgency at the railroad yard in collecting the cars necessary for such transit suggested that Hubbard would not have to do much protesting. Around 11:30, Shaler received a call confirming that General Tovar’s party had arrived in Panama City. It had been welcomed by an impressive delegation of civic leaders, headed by Governor Obaldía, and by General Huertas and the garrison guard, glittering in full dress uniform. The first order of business, of course, was to have the Governor’s office arrange for delivery of the
tiradores
—but while this was being done, Tovar and his staff were invited to join Obaldía for lunch and a
siesta
.