Torero Tension

One of the strongest labor unions in the world is the Organization of Matadors de Toros, professionals and semi-professionals, which makes all the contracts for all the legitimate bullfights of Spain. Last week a group of swarthy, thin-hipped gentlemen met at the union's handsome Madrid headquarters to consider a new menace.

It used to be a bullfighting tradition that, just as no white jazz band can match the primitive rhythms of a Duke Ellington, so no truly great matador was ever born north of the 40th parallel of latitude (about 30 miles south of Madrid), or south of Gibraltar. This tradition of Andalusian superiority suffered a heavy blow with the rise of the Madrileno Marcial Lalanda, the greatest money-maker in the ring few years ago. It suffered still more when a series of once despised Mexican matadors began coming to Spain, winning fat contracts and great salvos of applause.* Spain's matadors gravely considered the Mexican menace last week, sent a resolution to the Government demanding strict limitation of the number of foreign bullfighters and of the length of time they may stay in the country. Mexican matadors did not take this lying down. From their own union headquarters they petitioned the Mexican Government to banish all Spanish toreros from Mexico.

. . .

Into the small hours of the morning last week Antonio Sanchez sat with his friends in a Madrid cafe, clutching his umbrella, sipping pale glasses of manzanillo, and arguing about the bullfighters' war. Antonio Sanchez once was a matador but it had been many a year since he clipped a coleta in his hair and stepped into the ring. Finally the gathering broke up and Antonio Sanchez walked home to save money. Near the central market he heard shouts and a great splintering of wood. Mad as a bullring champion was a snorting beef bull that had escaped from a slaughter house herd and was charging back & forth ankle deep in cabbages, beets, potatoes and the wreckage of vegetable stalls.

Antonio Sanchez raced to his home. In a few minutes he was back at the market with a faded red muleta and, wrapped in its folds, the blade of his favorite sword. The market men cheered.

Under the blinking street lamps Antonio Sanchez stood, heels together, muleta waist high. The cape fluttered and the bull charged, once, twice. Then just like old times Antonio Sanchez sighted along the blade and thrust home.

"Ay, bonito!" roared the marketmen and cut off the dead bull's ears, again just like old times. They sent Antonio Sanchez home with all the cabbages, turnips, beans, he could carry.

*The two best known Mexican matadors in Spain are Fermin Espinosa, "Armillita Chico,'' a precise and elegant swordsman, and the more fiery Jesus Solorzano, famed for his slow and dangerous veronicas.

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