Honeymoon

President Galo Plaza Lasso had promised that hard work would be the watchword of his government. In his third week in office, he was living up to his promise.

Up at 6, he whisked through his day in a whirl of callers and scribbled memos, got through work at a rate never before seen in the musty old palace. In two three-hour periods he managed to get in 151 individual interviews. (Grumbled one Ecuadorian: "I didn't have time even to greet him properly.") At 1:30 he passed up Ecuador's hearty midday meal, raided an office icebox for sandwiches and milk straight from one of his own farms, then got to work again. "What, no siesta?" exclaimed incredulous Ecuadorians.

Papeleo (red tape) was his enemy, said the U.S.-educated President. Almost the first thing he did was to have electric typewriters installed to speed up paper work. Result: in one week his secretaries got out 5,152 letters and telegrams. He met the Nicaraguan minister in plain business suit and without flowery speeches, announced that he wanted no part of tradition's stiff protocol.

Each night Galo Plaza relaxed at home with bullfighting or cattle-raising magazines. Each weekend, he drove out to one of his farms, refusing to say which one. "Every Friday night I shall resign," he said, "and resume office Monday morning. Meanwhile, I shall interview my cows."

Generally happy about the new President, Ecuadorians waited patiently to see what would happen when his energy took hold of the nation's difficult economic problems. "I don't remember a time," said a veteran Quito newsman, "when I have seen such tranquillity in the country."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.