My Soul - Mi Alma (Ongoing)

24 Coffee with Francisco Lopez

At ten the next morning, I walked over to the plaza to meet Francisco Lopez. He hadn't arrived yet, so I scanned through the content of the envelope he gave me yesterday once more.

I was deep I thoughts when he sat down at my table. "Buenas dias Alma," he said with a friendly smile. "Did you take a look at the content of the envelope yesterday?"

I told him that Sebastian Alvarez, Carlos and I had met in Carlos Apartment, and we had mama on skype.

"Good," he said, "Sebastian is one of those who could tell you a lot about the Bech family history; in fact, I talked with him last night myself."

"Does everyone know each other well enough to take a nightly phone chat, I feel everyone I meet is interconnected some way or another" I was somewhat frustrated.

Francisco looked me straight in the eyes; "that is because we all share a common history, and the very polite, very generous Bech family was the glue in this system. I've always known Sebastian Alvarez, but only as the best friend of my boss. The Bech family was unique; they saw everyone and loved everyone. Even if one of the Alvarez brothers worked for Franco – Sebastian was equally welcome at the house."

"Tell me about the content of the envelope," I asked.

"When I started working in "La Prensa" in 1966, I had just finished my degree from the University of Madrid. I got a scholarship to study there because I'm from a farmer's family with few means, way different from the Bechs and the Alvarezes. I came to Barcelona because of Antonio Bech. To me, he was the greatest journalist in the country, and I wanted to learn from him."

He paused – "I always thought Antonio would be a man at least in his 50-ies, and there I met the most charismatic man under 40  I had ever met. I was so happy when he told me I had the job, but he also warned me that this could be difficult and dangerous. I didn't care; I was going to work with Antonio Bech, the best and most fearless editor in Spain!"

We ordered another coffee – and Francisco went on;

"He introduced me to a world I didn't know. I was in charge of the culture columns; I think he was concerned about my security, so he signed all politically controversial articles himself. I learned to write in a coded language to bypass the censorship. I was taught how important international networks of journalists were for us; the more that knows your name and work outside of Spain, the more criticism you get away with. Alas, this is not always true; journalism is the most dangerous trade in the world. Journalists are killed and imprisoned in many countries just because their stories don't match the view of the political leadership. It was like that here as well. Did you know that more than 67 000 people just disappeared during the Franco years?" Francisco shakes his head.

"Tell me about the last front page, the one with my uncle," I asked.

"Your uncle had joined the Catalan separatist movement before I started working at "La Pensa" Antonio was not happy, but accepted it. As long as I worked with your grandfather, Jorge was in and out of political prison sentences. Where your great grandparents and your grandparents managed to balance, he went overboard."

"What changed Antonio was the killing of Gabriel, and the fact that it was his best friend's older brother that had ordered the police to use sharp bullets against the student demonstration. When he got the news that his son was killed – the man dissolved in front of me. He blamed himself for not being able to protect his own son. The family went to Sevilla, where it all happened, to identify the body. I think they stayed at the Alvarez family residence, but Antonio came back to Barcelona. He had a meeting with the board of the paper – and resigned as editor. We had a long meeting where he told me that he had asked the board to hand over the job as the chief editor to me. He also told me of his "life insurance," A collection of Picasso and Miro paintings he was going to take to New York and sell, to get his family resettled. His wife and daughter flew to New York from Madrid. He went to the house in Perpignan to collect parts of his "life insurance" But Antonio was a changed man – he was a beaten man."

I felt my eyes fill up with tears, my darling Abuelo – grandfather – had survived so much. I started to see why he never wanted to talk about it; people who have endured extreme hardship tend to hide their scars.

"The day I got the date of the execution of Jorge I called Antonio in New York, You know we had no internet and no cellphones in those days, just landline – we didn't even have telefax, so I knew the Franco regime monitored my line. I told him that the paper would be discontinued and that the execution picture would be our last front page. He agreed." Francisco swallowed and looked me straight in the eyes.

"I got a press pass to the hanging of Jorge inside a prison in Barcelona. It was an awful moment. But I got my pictures and wrote a story that probably would have gotten me executed a few years earlier, but Franco was in a coma and died two days after the execution, and the country was in a political vacuum, so I got away with it."