and tapestried salons of the National Palace and frequently conducted the
affairs of state from the backseat of his automobile or a table at the Café Colon. Breakfast often consisted of a raw egg
and a glass of claret followed by a shot of brandy. Mexico City’s urbane diplomats joked that the only “foreigners” Huerta
really valued were Hennessy and Martell.
Although far more experienced and ruthless than Madero, Huerta had an equally difficult time subduing the various insurgency
movements. The threat was most serious in the northern tier of states, where several revolutionary leaders, including Venustiano
Carranza and Pancho Villa, were amassing support. To increase the size of his federal army, Huerta’s press-gangs began kidnapping
every able-bodied man they could find. Residents were snatched on their way to the market, to the post office, and as they
were leaving the hospital. “After the bullfight on Sunday,” wrote Edith O’Shaughnessy, wife of the American chargé d’affaires,
“seven hundred unfortunates were seized, doubtless never to see their families again. . . . At a big fire a few days ago nearly
a thousand were taken, many women among them, who are put to work in the powder mills. A friend told me this morning that
the father, mother, two brothers, and the sister of one of her servants were taken last week. They scarcely dare, any of them,
to go out after dark. Posting a letter may mean, literally going to the cannon’s mouth.”
John Lind, the former governor of Minnesota, was one of President Wilson’s handpicked representatives to Mexico. He was completely
devoid of diplomatic experience and could not speak Spanish. With the help of interpreters, Lind presented the Huerta government
with a Wilson-drafted settlement that called for an immediate cessation to fighting, the holding of early and free elections
(in which Huerta would refrain from becoming a candidate), and the willingness of all factions to abide by the results.
Huerta, naturally, rejected the settlement. Lind was told to resubmit the offer and add something extra to the pot: the U.S.
government, he was instructed to say, would use its influence with American bankers to make a loan to the new government if
free and open elections (without Huerta) were held. This proposal, considered by many to be little more than a bribe, was
also icily rejected.
President Wilson then went before Congress and described his failed mission. He reaffirmed his good intentions and said there
was nothing more he could do for the Mexican people but “await the time of their awakening to the actual facts. We cannot
thrust our good offices upon them. We can afford to exercise the self restraint of a great nation.” His position in the future
would be one of “watchful waiting.”
Huerta then announced his plan to hold an election on October 26, 1913. The news buoyed Wilson and his aides, who believed
the canny dictator had been converted to the principles of democracy after all. But the hope was dashed when Huerta dissolved
Mexico’s Constitution and what remained of the duly elected congress and proceeded to invalidate the election results, saying
the returns were too small to reflect the will of the people. Huerta then announced that he would remain in office until the
rebel elements were pacified.
In response, the State Department distributed a circular to governments throughout the world, laying out in blunt terms the
new U.S. position toward Mexico: “The present policy of the United States is to isolate General Huerta entirely; to cut him
off from foreign sympathy and aid and domestic credit, whether moral or material, and to force him out.”
In keeping with that philosophy, the United States used its influence to get a loan to Mexico from a consortium of international
bankers pared down from 150 to 50 million dollars. U.S. warships were sent to Mexico, where they idled within view of