Renaldo (23 page)

option. Hopefully, the mass is not malignant, but if it is, we hope to arrest any

further growth with radiation. I would urge you to make your decision quickly,

so we may book you a bed.”

Lonfranco had known in his heart that this would be the news he had to

deal with. He thanked Dr. Spence and informed him that a bed would not be

necessary, that he would return to Argentina to live out his remaining time.

At a family meeting that night in their suite, he repeated the doctor’s

diagnosis and recommendation. He told his loved ones that if there was to

be any surgery, it would be done in Buenos Aires, close to his home and the

people he loved. He was not willing to disrupt everyone’s lives to stay in a New

York hospital for what might be months. His wishes were respected without

argument, and a few days later, the De Setas set sail back to their homeland.

The surgery was performed in Buenos Aires less than a month later, the

pain having become intolerable. The tumor was found to be malignant, and the

prognosis for full recovery, very slim. Friends and well-wishers rallied to Lydia’s

side, and what was anticipated to be a death vigil took place in the corridors

and waiting rooms of Hospital Rivadavia.

Lonfranco, however, did not cooperate with the doomsayers. His recovery

shocked everyone in the medical profession. Within three weeks of the

operation, he was recuperating back at Casa San Marco.

That was the good news, that he was alive. The reality of the situation was

that the family patriarch was unable to walk unassisted, and that his speech

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was slurred and garbled. He would spend his days in the garden, sitting in

a wheelchair, a nurse constantly by his side. His frustration with his post-

operative condition was hardly ever evident. Only on the rare occasions that

his requests could not be deciphered would he raise his voice and shout some

unintelligible command.

Radiation treatments, as had been recommended in New York,

commenced a short time after surgery. Six months later, Lonfranco was given

as clean a bill of health as was possible under the circumstances. His speech and

motor movements would never return to him, and Lydia was forced to work in

concert with Hector Brown and various other business associates of Lonfranco’s

to enable her to get a grasp of the family assets and operations. She proved more

than equal to the task.

Peter De Seta remained somewhat removed from the day-to-day routine

of running his father’s assets. A hectic schedule of his own, both at the hospital

and the camp, kept him constantly on the run. He had never really liked

Pergamino that much, if the truth be known, preferring, instead, the urban

lifestyle to the wide-open spaces. He was, nevertheless, very attentive to his

father and assisted his mother whenever he was able. It was Florencia who

Lydia grew to rely on the most. She and young Lonfranco would spend many a

night in one of the guest suites at Casa San Marco after a full day and night of

meetings and planning sessions.

Lydia wondered constantly about the future of Buenos Recuerdos, given

Peter’s lack of interest in stepping into his father’s shoes. But the English lady

had been born and raised on a farm, and the smell of manure was not foreign to

her nostrils. She determined in the end that the cattle business and the estate

would be kept, at least for the immediate future. She and her husband would

simply commute between the city and the country as matters required.

Lonfranco’s condition stabilized to the point that he was no longer in any

discernible pain. He constantly wore a hat to cover the scars of surgery on his

now fully bald head, but that was the only visible sign of his past trauma. He

was generally content to sit quietly and ponder whatever was going on inside

his mind. For three years he lived in his own world, watching his grandson

grow, the flowers bloom, the rains come and go, all with little or no sign of

anxiety or grief.

In May of 1959, an infant was placed on the elderly patient’s lap that he

had never seen before. Lydia whispered in his ear over and over again, “your

new grandson . . . your new grandson.” She swore that she saw Lonfranco’s

eyes brighten before the tears cascaded down his cheeks. His new grandson,

Renaldo Figueroa De Seta, had been born on the fifth of May, and named after

Peter’s mentor and world-famous pediatrician, Dr. Renaldo Las Heras.

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As so often happens, “the good Lord giveth, the good Lord taketh away.”

Those were the words of the priest that was summoned the next morning to

Casa San Marco to administer the last rites to Lonfranco Guissepe De Seta. The

patriarch of the family had passed into the next world, quietly, peacefully, in

his sleep. A smile of contentment graced his angelic face.

105

Immediately following the funeral, Lydia set about the task of sorting

through the myriad of business ventures in which her husband had been

involved. She did so, reassured and comforted by the tributes that were

accorded to Lonfranco, both locally and in the international press.

The once penniless Italian ‘pick and shovel’ man had been heralded widely

as one of the forebearers of the modern industrial revolution in Argentina.

Telegrams from old friends and acquaintances in many parts of the globe

attested to his vision and achievements. Even the new president of Argentina,

Arturo Frondizi, stated that he wished that he had someone with Lonfranco

De Seta’s international business contacts to help him spearhead a new push for

increased foreign investment in his country.

On a personal level, there was little remorse or regret in Lydia’s heart

when it came to losing her mate of almost forty years. Their time together had

been pure magic, the stuff that dreams were made of, but seeing him in his

weakened condition broke her heart. She knew that he was at peace, and that

she would be with him again one day. It was now her duty to look after the

well-being of the De Seta family.

Lawyers and accountants became constant fixtures at Casa San Marco.

Lonfranco had been wise enough to use the same legal and accounting firms

for all his ventures, but even so, the complicated web of share stakes and minor

interests in smaller companies took weeks to untangle. Lydia never complained

though, for she found that she was fascinated by the way her husband’s business

mind had worked.

The cattle business, for example, began with the breeding of livestock.

Simple enough. To get that livestock to the slaughterhouses and tanneries

required railways, which were British-owned and controlled. But the rail cars

that actually transported the cattle were manufactured in Argentina by a

company in which Lonfranco had a seventy percent stake in.

He also had major units of the slaughtering and tanning segments, as

well as a shipping company and a small airline. When everything was finally

tallied, the estate of Lonfranco De Seta held assets totaling nearly one hundred

million U.S. dollars.

Lydia was astounded when the totals became apparent to her. She had

known that the family was well off, but Lonfranco rarely discussed the financial

JAMES McCREATH

details of the businesses with her. Even during his extended convalescence

the past year or so while she was working in concert with his advisors, the

magnitude of the investments had never really become evident.

Many of Lonfranco’s corporate interests had been shielded from scrutiny

by an elaborate scheme of shell holding companies, to prevent them from

becoming targets of a populist nationalization plan. With the political climate

still very tenuous, such precautions were deemed necessary, even critical, to the

survival of the family fortune.

The problem that Lydia faced was unsettling. With two young

grandchildren on the scene, she much preferred their company to that of the

cigar-smoking “suits.” After consulting with Hector Brown and receiving his

assurance that he would remain at Buenos Recuerdos for an indefinite but

lengthy time, Lydia summoned the estate’s executors and, as the sole beneficiary,

instructed them to liquidate all the interests in each and every company.

The family would remain in the cattle breeding business in a somewhat

scaled down version. The capitol raised by the sale of assets would be reinvested

in separate trusts for Peter, Florencia, Lonfranco, and Renaldo. Lydia, herself,

would hold a certain portion of the proceeds for her own personal use. This plan

was not questioned by the executors, for President Frondizi had, once again,

opened the doors to foreign investors, and the plums of the De Seta empire

would fetch a healthy price for Lydia and her family.

Meanwhile, Lydia urged Peter and Florencia to gather up the children

and join her permanently at Casa San Marco. The house was far too large for

one person. It also contained too many memories of the happy times when the

rooms were alive with the sounds of parties and children, and most of all, of

him!

With two growing boys to raise, Peter’s once spacious, convenient flat was

now, by his own admission, cramped and somewhat constricting. Florencia was

all for the move, and so it came to pass that the De Seta family closed ranks

inside the high stucco walls of Casa San Marco. They enjoyed the next seven

years developing a bond that made them as close as a family could be.

The eldest son, Lonfranco, came to be known by the nickname ‘Lonnie,’

primarily to avoid confusion with his late grandfather. His proper name seemed

to be used only when he was in trouble, as he frequently was.

Lonnie was a bruising, active, vocal child who liked the sport of pushing

adults to the brink of frustration. By contrast, his younger brother, Renaldo,

was a quiet, studious youngster who was always seeking the approval of his

elders. The boys got along together in a typical brother-to-brother relationship,

sometimes the best of friends, but more often than not, full of the petty

squabbles that make a home with children such a challenging place.

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Lydia adored both her grandsons and spent hours reading them stories

and telling them tales of their grandfathers. Liam Peters had died shortly after

the end of World War II, some said of a broken heart caused by the loss of his

two sons in the conflict. Lydia knew the cause of death to be cirrhosis of the

liver, brought on by a far too intimate relationship with Mr. Glenlivet.

The stories of England, in particular, thrilled the boys, and their favorites

seemed to always revolve around the monarchy, in particular, the recently

crowned young Queen Elizabeth the Second. Lydia promised that when they

were a little older, the family would book passage to the British Isles on one

of the modern ocean liners. They would spend a month or so visiting their

great-aunts and great-uncles whom they had never seen, and work in a visit

Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London, and Big Ben.

Peter continued to work long hours at the hospital and his camp, but

he always made time for his sons. He tried to instill in them his two great

passions: the guitar and football. Lonnie had little success with the former,

being far too impatient and rambunctious to sit still long enough to make

his fingers cooperate. The latter endeavor, football, turned out to be the boy’s

saving grace.

Finally he had a focus and an outlet for all his pent-up energy. He

accompanied Peter to every home game that the Boca Juniors played in the

capital, and he was in awe, like his father before him, of the color, the noise,

and the passion. To encourage his sons’ interest, Peter set up a goal net on the

sodded portion of the inner garden at Casa San Marco and spent hours with his

boys practicing dribbling, passing, and shooting.

The ladies of the household found it hilarious that he made his sons

waddle like ducks around and around the perimeter of the enclosure, then

upon his command, leap as high in the air as they could. He told the boys not

to worry about the women’s silly comments, and that this game of ‘ducks and

frogs,’ as he called it, would give their legs the strength they needed to score

many goals.

The younger son, Renaldo, seemed to be the exact opposite of his older

brother. He took to the guitar right away, spending hours plucking at the

strings, for his tiny hands were still too small to make all the proper cord

maneuvers. The first professional football game he attended with his father

turned out to be a disaster.

Playing against local rival River Plate, the Juniors fell behind two goals

to nil, and this prompted several fights to break out adjacent to where the De