The “Proceso’s” Public: How Argentina’s last military dictatorship shaped the urban and social landscapes of Buenos Aires through public space

Molly Rockhold

Senior Honors Thesis, New York University Urban Design and Architecture Studies, Spanish

Advisors: Jonathan Ritter Gabriel Giorgi

April 2017

Rockhold 1 Table of Contents Abstract ...... 2 Acknowledgements ...... 3 Introduction ...... 7 Chapter 1: Local Neighborhood Spaces ...... 16 Introduction ...... 16 Plaza de Mayo ...... 20 Plaza Houssay ...... 31 Plaza Monseñor de Andrea ...... 37 Plazas: Conclusions ...... 44 Chapter 2 Legacies, Spectacle and Amusement ...... 45 Introduction ...... 45 The 1978 World Cup: All Eyes on Argentina ...... 46 Interama ...... 54 Allocating Space for the Megapark ...... 55 Amusement Park Antecedents to Interama in Argentina ...... 57 The Plan ...... 60 The Players ...... 64 Design and Construction ...... 66 The Space Tower and its Significance ...... 68 Highways: Modernizing and Connecting a Fractured City ...... 72 Interama and the Middle Class...... 77 Interama Today ...... 80 Conclusions ...... 81 Conclusion ...... 84 Bibliography ...... 88

Rockhold 2 Abstract This thesis sets out to analyze the involvement of the last Argentine dictatorship (1976- 1983) in the sphere of public space, taking the city of Buenos Aires and its urban infrastructure as a case study. Throughout its seven-year reign, the dictatorship violently implemented the “Proceso de Reorganización Nacional” (the “National Reorganization Process”) that simultaneously repressed democratic government opposition and sought to “clean up” Argentine society. My research analyzes two major projects of this “Proceso,” the creation and renovation of neighborhood parks and plazas for domestic appeal and the planning of a multi-faceted zoo- garden-amusement park complex to fashion an international image. While it can be said that both of these projects benefitted city residents, they prioritized certain demographic groups over others and served the corrupt government’s overarching goal to legitimize itself and appease critics at home and abroad. This research investigates case studies through the study of primary documents, secondary interpretations, personal interviews and formal site analysis. These sources help to answer questions about how urban planning played a central but hidden role during the Proceso to create proper public spaces to serve particular conceptions of citizenship and the role of authoritarian modernization throughout this process.

Resumen Esta tesis propone analizar el involucramiento de la última dictadura argentina (1976- 1983) en la esfera del espacio público, usando a la ciudad de Buenos Aires y su infraestructura urbana como caso práctico. Durante los siete años de dictadura militar, se implementó de forma violenta y represiva el “Proceso de Reorganización Nacional” que simultáneamente reprimió la política y participación democrática opositora y buscó “limpiar” la sociedad argentina. Esta tesis analiza dos proyectos particulares de este Proceso, la construcción y renovación de plazas y parques vecindarios para aumentar atracción doméstica y el planeamiento de un “parque zoofitogeográfico” que también incluiría un parque de diversiones/parque temático con el fin de fabricar una imagen internacional. Aunque se puede decir que ambos proyectos beneficiaron a los residentes de la ciudad, priorizaron ciertos sectores demográficos ante otros y desarrollaron la meta final del gobierno corrupto: legitimar su poder y aplacar las críticas locales e internacionales. Estas investigaciones analizan los casos particulares a través del análisis de documentos primarios, interpretaciones de segunda mano, entrevistas personales y análisis formal de cada sitio. Estas fuentes ayudan a contestar las preguntas específicas de cómo el planeamiento urbano tuvo un papel central pero relativamente oculto durante el Proceso creando espacios públicos apropiados para servir concepciones de ciudadanía y, además, desarrollando una modernización autoritaria durante este proceso.

Notes

❖ Unless otherwise noted, all to-date pictures of Buenos Aires, La Plata and New York are the author’s work, taken in August 2016 ❖ All texts cited here originally appear in Spanish and are the author’s original translations

Rockhold 3 Acknowledgements I would not be sincere in my efforts if I did not dedicate this work to my mother and the strong Argentine womxn that have surrounded and supported me from the very beginning. Each one of them has lived through periods of tremendous injustice and nevertheless, persisted.

Having seen battles on one’s own block and close friends disappear overnight leaves a numbing effect on a person, and, as I have learned, entire nations as well. The sobering lessons I have learned by having the honor of growing up by their side have been invaluable and contribute to this unique worldview I carry with me.

No estaría siendo honesta si no dedicaría este trabajo a mi madre y a las fuertes mujeres argentinas que me apoyaron y rodearon desde el principio. Cada una de ellas ha vivido épocas de injusticias y ha visto amigos y compañeros cercanos desaparecer en segundos, dejando una huella/marca/efecto tanto a la persona como en su población entera. Las amargas lecciones que he tenido el honor de aprender a su lado, han sido cruciales para la construcción de la perspectiva personal que hoy me caracteriza y enfatiza mi deseo por compartir dichas historias.

Es cierto que no son mis historias personales, pero decido contarlas desde mi mejor punto de vista y capacidad.

No statement speaks louder than survival and perseverance and these powerful women have been kind enough to impart their knowledge and share their many stories with me throughout my life. Many have survived more than any of us can imagine, while the world continues oblivious to the delitos that were committed throughout Latin America during the late

20th century. It is my hope that this analysis and the possibility of reading and writing future works that analyze the urban environment will constitute as an introduction to the English- speaking world about this period in Argentine and Latin American History.

Rockhold 4 Ninguna declaración habla más fuerte que la supervivencia y la perseverancia - estas poderosas mujeres han sido lo suficientemente amables para impartir sus conocimientos y compartir sus muchas historias conmigo a lo largo de mi vida. Muchos han sobrevivido más de lo que cualquiera de nosotros puede imaginar, mientras que el mundo sigue ajeno a los delitos que ocurrieron en toda América Latina. Espero que este análisis y trabajos futuros que analizan el entorno urbano constituyan una introducción al mundo anglosajón sobre este período en la historia argentina y latinoamericana

This project would not have come to fruition without my own close network of support.

My Argentine support system, from those who planted the seed two years ago at NYU Buenos

Aires—the constant buena onda from Catherine Addington and Rosalyn Jones—to my political companions—Brenda Pridebailo and Pehuen Piebert—as well as the great Maximiliano

Palomeque, Nicolás Giannassi and all the others who kept me going every step of the way.

Special thanks are due to the Leguizamón family, Ariel, Mara, Pedro, Ethel and Lola, who not only made me a part of their Sunday meals and discussions on Kirchnerismo and political history, but graciously welcomed me into their home for the length of my stay in La Plata.

Further thanks are also due to Tomás de Bona, a steady supporter and friend always interested in my academic endeavors, a spectacular photographer and provider of good company on my many field visits and case studies.

Este trabajo no estaría completo sin mi propia red de apoyo argentina. Desde las que me plantearon la idea original hace dos años y su constante “buena onda”: Catherine Addington y

Rosalyn Jones, hasta mis compañerxs de discusiones políticas: Brenda Pridebailo y Pehuen

Piebert y lxs que me alentaron a seguir en cada paso de este proyecto, en especial, Maximiliano

Palomeque y Nicolás Giannassi. Agradezco en particular el apoyo de la familia Leguizamón;

Rockhold 5 Ariel, Mara, Ethel, Pedro y Lola quienes me hospedaron en su casa en agosto y me hicieron sentir parte de la familia en los almuerzos de los domingos; entre charlas del Kirchnerismo, política e historia. También agradezco la ayuda de Tomás de Bona, un amigo que siempre expresó interés y apoyo en cada uno de mis proyectos académicos, un fotógrafo espectacular y proveedor de buena compañía durante mis visitas y estudios.

Each one of the academics, professionals and experts that I had the honor of interviewing provided a unique view to this project and I cannot properly express my gratitude for the assistance, information and discussion they provided. Alejandro Leonforte, Liliana Oleksow,

Jorge Melee and especially Interama Park enthusiast and expert, Hernán Rodríguez who not only offered thought-provoking conversation, but materials that became essential to my understanding and this project as a whole, many of which are featured here.

Cada uno de los académicos, profesionales y expertos que tuve el honor de entrevistar aportó una mirada única a este trabajo y no encuentro las palabras apropiadas para expresar mi agradecimiento a ellos. Alberto Leonforte, Liliana Oleksow, Jorge Melee y especialmente

Hernán Rodríguez, el único experto del Parque Interama y su torre magnífica quien no solo compartió conmigo su tiempo, sino que también aportó materiales esenciales para este proyecto.

The academic support I found in New York preparing for, returning from and processing my research on Argentina was, as can be expected, second to none. My advisors, Professors Jon

Ritter and Gabriel Giorgi helped process what I had observed and read in our many discussions, no matter where we found ourselves in the world. I also received unprecedented departmental support from the best; Mosette Broderick and Lourdes Davila. Thanks to my professors, James

Morgan and Eric Darton for stimulating our seminar sessions with undeniable wisdom and life

Rockhold 6 philosophies and my fellow Urban Design thesis champions, Zoe Priest, Tilemahos

Kotseagorgos and James Hayes for the camaraderie we developed.

Como era de esperar, el apoyo académico que encontré en Nueva York a la hora de preparar mis investigaciones realizadas en Argentina fue inmejorable. Mis profesores, Jon

Ritter y Gabriel Giorgi me ayudaron a procesar lo que había observado y comprendido en nuestras discusiones,sin importar dónde nos encontráramos en el mundo. Además, recibí apoyo de cátedra sin precedente de las mejores: Mosette Broderick y Lourdes Dávila. Gracias también a mis profesores James Morgan y Eric Darton por nuestras sesiones de seminario estimulantes y por compartir su sabiduría y filosofía de la vida. También, mis compañeros campeones de

Diseño Urbano Zoe Priest, Tilemahos Kotseagorgos y James Hayes merecen una mención en estos agradecimientos.

Finally, thank you to my “day one” editors, Nick Dabel, Haley Tomsheck, Yingxin Tan,

Maria Rendo, Catherine Addington, Miguel Copado and Noelia Lecue for our nights of writing, editing and eating throughout New York City, (Idaho), Argentina and Spain. Had it not been for each one of you, this thesis might not only have examined the built environment, but also the fluidity of languages.

Finalmente, mis editores que estuvieron presentes desde el primer día, Nick Dabel, Haley

Tomsheck, María Rendo, Catherine Addington, Miguel Copado y la fabulosa Noelia Lecue por nuestros días y noches de escritura y edición en Nueva York, Argentina y España. Si no fuera por ustedes, estoy segura que esta tesis hubiera presentado algo más que análisis de urbanismo, hubiera presentado la fluidez de idiomas.

Gracias por el aguante

Rockhold 7 Introduction Like many Latin American nations, Argentina, in its 200 years of sovereignty has experienced a tumultuous political history. In the last century alone, the nation has undergone five military dictatorships, each more violent than the next; eleven years (throughout two terms) of the widely supported populist government of Juan Domingo Perón and various bouts with democracy that many citizens were quick to do away with in order to restore much-needed political stability and order. Argentina has flirted with the democratic ideals of western government and modernity to varied degrees of success throughout its history but, nonetheless, the nation remains marked by past struggles (Luna, “La Dictadura”).

The road that paved the way for Argentina’s last military dictatorship (1976-1983) began with the much-awaited return of Juan Domingo Perón in 1973. After suffering a terminal illness,

Perón met the same fate as the beloved Evita and died in July of 1974. The succession of his third wife, “Isabelita” Perón gave way to an unstable government and, consequently, a military coup, that brought with it the rise of General Jorge Rafael Videla and his military junta on the

24th of March, 1976. What followed was to be the most repressive, violent military government in Argentine history (Luna, “La Dictadura”).

Videla and the Argentine armed forces instigated the “Proceso de Reorganización

Nacional” (the “National Reorganization Process”) as an operation indicating the “definitive closure of a historic cycle” of untrustworthy governments that allegedly led the nation to disintegration and ruin. This markedly anti-communist political shift aimed to establish “just order” to “support and encourage the honest and exemplary citizen” in order to reestablish a sense of trust in the government that had “failed the nation” for so many years (Videla). These goals, however, were quickly translated into acts of violent, nationwide repression to subvert opposition.

Rockhold 8 Over 30,000 people1 deemed political enemies were taken from their homes, schools and commutes and claimed to be “disappeared,”2 losing their lives and identities to a nation that, 40 years later, still demands answers. 340 “clandestine centers” of detention and torture were established throughout the nation in police centers, civilian institutions and in military-owned buildings. According to investigations conducted by the National Commission of Disappeared

Persons (CONADEP) in 1984, the urban working-class and students (high school through college) together comprised 51% of the disappeared people. Subsequently, large cities like

Buenos Aires, La Plata and Córdoba, which host world-renowned universities, institutions and industries became hotbeds for political repression and state action (“La Dictadura”).

As the nation’s capital, the port city of Buenos Aires became a central focus for the dictatorship, on both a political and urban scale. With the arrival of Videla (1976-1981) and his appointed Brigadier Mayor of Buenos Aires, Osvaldo Cacciatore (1976-1982), a campaign was begun to “modernize” and cleanse the nation through its capital city. In Buenos Aires, the rulers helped to reintroduce the persistent Argentine search for international approval and a national, modern sense of identity, also used to impose their unique, repressive values of order (Luna).

Cacciatore successfully worked to emphasize these goals within the built environment, creating a physical legacy that perseveres deep within the urban fabric to this day.

Argentina as a sovereign nation exists without a true sense of national architecture.

However, because the indigenous people of the area were largely nomadic, the structures they constructed before colonization were easily dismantled and very little trace of their presence remains. Therefore, the nation’s stylistic history of built structure alternates between pre-

1 A figure proven by multiple human rights organizations yet still disputed by the current government of Argentina. 2 When questioned in the matter in 1979, Videla vaguely claimed that those who were disappeared were simply in an “incognito state,” they were to be “neither alive nor dead...just disappeared” (Videla en 1979).

Rockhold 9 independence Spanish colonial influences, revolutionary and post-independence French

European examples and later experiments with the modernist styles3. The original seat of

Spanish colonial government in Buenos Aires itself, the cabildo4, represents this shift in styles across its history, as pictured in Figures 1 and 2. Originally constructed in the Spanish colonial style, after independence, the cabildo took on a French renaissance style (Figure 1) before being restored to its original design in 1938 (Figure 2) (Liernur 9). Another example of this trend is the unchanged governmental palace located on the adjacent block, built between 1890 and 1893

(Palaco de Gobierno). Featuring black, French mansard roofs (an unnecessary feature in Buenos

Aires’ relatively tepid climate), the baroque construction highlights Argentina’s goals of building a self- image around fashionable European styles as opposed to those of their colonizers.

Figure 1 – Cabildo 1931 (Buenos Aires Antiguo) Figure 2 – Cabildo today (Cabildo de Buenos Aires)

3 International style pioneer Le Corbusier experimented with modernism in Argentina as early as 1926, designing the Curuchet House, declared National heritage site in 1986 (Jurado). 4 “An institution originated in the Roman world that, later on in Spanish territory was used for ecclesiastical and civil purposes: the first municipal governments gathered here between the 10th and the 15th centuries. Brought by the Spaniards to America, the institution was developed with many varieties before being suppressed in the 16th century by independent governments” (Liernur V.2 8).

Rockhold 10

Figure 3 - Governmental Palace (Palacio Municipal)

In the same way that independence fighters tied themselves to French Baroque styles in order to “Europeanize” and distance the nation from Spain’s influences, the military dictators and their appointed leaders employed internationally accepted, largely Brutalist methods of construction and design. Such a move was made in order to modernize the nation both domestically and for the international eye (Oleksow).

The Teatro Argentino (“Argentine Theater”) in La Plata (Figure 3) exemplifies this use of style. Begun in 1979 and not completed until 2000, the theater, commissioned by the federal government, was meant to take the spotlight as the nation’s premier theater, featuring traveling performances and national stars (Leonforte). The architectural firm of Bares, Garcia, Germani,

Rubio, Sbarra and Ucar won the competition to rebuild the old French-style theater that had caught fire in 19775 (Figure 4) in a “geometric and rational” non-historicizing, abstract style

(Figure 5) (Liernur V1 134). Such an Avant-Gard design that makes strong references to the fashion of the time also suggests strength and stability within its reinforced concrete and well- defined octagonal shape. This tactical choice of design and material was used here and in multiple other projects as a tool to legitimize and preserve the authoritarian power structure of

5 Many theorize that, if this fire was not the directly caused by the dictatorship, the same entity demolished it to construct their own modern structure when, in reality, the majority of the original structure was in a salvageable state (Leonforte).

Rockhold 11 the de facto government from the beginning of its reign in 1976 to its decline in 1983.

Figure 4 – Teatro Argentino c. 1904 (Moody) Figure 5 – Present-day Teatro Argentino (Genetti)

Within the context of typically modern, Brutalist designs and guidelines for urban development, further analysis reveals the plurality of methods utilized by the Proceso to propel itself towards these general goals of reaching an internationally competitive sense of modernity and societal order, especially within the capital city of Buenos Aires. The river-bound capital was to be “cleansed” of any outdated contaminants threatening the aesthetic, political and social state of the city. Through urban reform, these goals would help the city become truly “beautiful”; a place of social order, political stability and silence, and visual cleanliness, with a balance of green space and modern commodities, such as highways and other institutions. Conducted through population control, sum clearance, newly introduced natural features and ornament, this would serve both a domestic and international interest, appeasing the local population by beautifying their city and presenting citizens with guidelines for daily life. Secondly, the Proceso sought to showcase the nation’s progress to the rest of the world, especially with the advent of the 1978 World Cup, a controversial exposure6 to a new international audience.

The Urban Planning Code of 1977 introduced many of these goals in concrete legislation,

6 The 1978 World Cup, arguably the apex of the Proceso’s plan to “inject a wave of national pride” in the country was an attempt to shift national and international attention away from these human rights atrocities that were being committed mere blocks away from the stadiums. One of the many tactics used by the dictatorship was the fixing of games, such as a 6-0 semifinal victory against Perú (Stevenson).

Rockhold 12 from the large-scale seven-part highway system that would tear apart much of the city’s urban fabric, to the closure of industry in central Buenos Aires, and smaller neighborhood renovations

(Canese). The Buenos Aires municipality exploited its influence in urban planning by reshaping the urban landscape to promote a sense of government legitimacy through a new, authoritarian modernization. In the name of setting the nation forward and towards modernity, Cacciatore’s administration not only proposed many of these changes, but was also able to carry them out due to the corrupt nature of the dictatorship. He sought to create a nation that was clean, orderly and selective in the allowances for each citizen, where middle and upper-class citizens were highly prioritized over the working-class.

Two examples in the realm of public space embody this specific end goal. Investigating both the development of green, public spaces for the pleasure and recreation of central Buenos

Aires’ neighborhoods and the unfinished, multi-faceted zoo-garden-amusement park and sports complex in the south of the city, this thesis found that, despite the tense, repressive political environment, these spaces were constructed and renovated in order to promote well-being, public cleanliness and order. Neighborhood parks lent themselves to the latter goals exceptionally well, as they promoted disciplined, outdoor living and aesthetically improved their neighborhoods.

Examining the manipulation of these spaces by the Proceso is critical because, traditionally, public space concerns the entire population, but, this is not always the case. Only specific groups of citizens were able to take advantage of these new amenities due to social segregation through urban planning.

The municipality’s overarching plan for Buenos Aires’ green spaces consisted of multiple tiers, the first of which was the analysis of previous studies regarding the uses of spaces and preferred activities of the population. This information was later processed in order to create a

Rockhold 13 20-year renovation plan that would culminate in the year 1999. Due to the scale of this plan, the municipal planning commission began to implement informal project categories according to importance; parks and plazas in the direst conditions were to be given priority. However, upon analyzing the history of a number of these public spaces, it becomes clear that physical conditions were not the only indicator of priority (Summa 119, 28). Areas with a historically political population and connotation were one of the first to be renovated, as the case study of

Plaza de Mayo will indicate in Chapter 1.

Projects of “critical importance” became the center of the municipal government’s attention to swift reform. Officials agreed that the 700 open spaces that dotted the capital city could not accommodate a growing population in need of outdoor escapes and construction moved along quite quickly in most cases (Cacciatore). In fact, many projects had a turnaround time of a matter of months (Canese). The speed of many of these projects, discussed in greater detail in Chapter 1, can also be attributed to imposing political or social agendas that, among other goals, sought to create disciplined, orderly citizens, by limiting their behaviors in public.

Certain areas of major foot traffic, therefore, received priority for “modernization” and clean-up.

For landscape historian Galen Cranz, the types of urban parks that the dictatorship prioritized have the potential to become an “ideal reflection” of the city for the “contemplation of the city itself as a work of art” (Cranz 138). In Buenos Aires, both small and large nuclei of urban life personified what the dictators wished to see in the nation. Parks and plazas became the art and the de facto leaders, the artists. Pockets of green space became vessels through which to improve the city and, most importantly, mold children and adults into the proper citizens. Their location would benefit the deserving members of society and clean up by displacing others. This would then potentially allow the dictatorship to preserve itself and the idealized goals it had

Rockhold 14 created of orderly, complacent societies for generations to come.

Larger, more complex neighborhood spaces also received attention from the municipal government, specifically parks and sports complexes with the potential cater to Buenos Aires’ citizens’ athletic needs. To avoid “systematic destruction” of manicured parks and plazas, time and energy was also invested into creating new parks designated for the “active” uses of sports and recreation (Cacciatore 231). According to an interview conducted with the Department of

Sports and Recreation in 1977, the municipal government’s project for these large spaces consisted of providing a total of 15 sports centers, three solariums and two “specialized [sports] centers” for Buenos Aires (Summa 119 27). Discussed in this thesis through the case study of the

Almirante Brown Park complex, this designation of uses also becomes apparent in the analysis of parks and plazas and the inclusion of sports equipment in many of these. Cacciatore’s administration strongly believed in the pressing importance of recreation for a population and

“from there, its eminent social character” (Summa 119, 27)

Cacciatore’s authoritarian legacy project, for which he had almost full power to attempt all that he pleased, the Almirante Brown Park complex, received utmost priority from the

Department of Sports and Recreation and would cater to a separate, but similar plan. The unfinished, multifaceted complex was designed to become a haven in southwestern Buenos

Aires. It would host the one of the largest sports complexes in Buenos Aires (expecting 16,000 visiting students a day), the largest zoo in Argentina, the tallest structure on the southern continent (as part of the Interama Amusement Park, to rival Disneyland) and plant species that would represent every continent (Summa 119, 28). Moreover, with such unique amenities, the

Almirante Brown project would have brought further recognition to the Argentines after a successful 1978 World Cup and would work hand-in-hand with a seven-part highway system

Rockhold 15 that, on its own, would promote efficiency in cross-city travel and a modern middle-class lifestyle.

Both small and large scale projects would add to the aesthetic condition of the capital city with their green spaces and carefully crafted, orderly plans, and, therefore, present a better image of Argentina to its deserving citizens and to the world. “Deserving” middle and upper-class areas of the city would see their neighborhoods improve while other working class sectors would suffer massive upheavals and transformations to rid the city of any traces of poverty, a suffering economy or heterogeneous political manifestations Further, a heavy emphasis on green space and carefully planned sports areas fulfilled both ecological goals of the restorative powers of nature as well as the improvement of citizen welfare and discipline. Parks, plazas and public projects could, therefore, teach both young and old citizens invaluable lessons on how to appropriately use space and structure their free time. Through these alterations, the last military dictatorship, therefore, was able to transform itself into a revolutionary “reorganization process.”

The Proceso’s mentality of reform took over almost every aspect of Argentine society in order to better modernization of the nation. The principal projects enacted by the Proceso aimed at the simplest goals: reforming its citizens to form a better Argentine society. Officials used public spaces and their designs to instill values of order, productivity and cleanliness in the general population. Cristina Inés Bettanin correctly describes this process as a forced “social discipline without precedent” (106). Nothing prior to the Proceso had ever inserted itself so deep into

Argentine morals and tendencies.

Rockhold 16 Chapter 1: Local Neighborhood Spaces

Introduction

“La función de todo espacio verde es múltiple: purificar el aire viciado de la ciudad, dar al habitante de la ciudad un contacto con la cada vez más lejana naturaleza, proveer un espacio donde puedan exponerse y reconocerse objetos de carácter artístico o histórico. Pero, fundamentalmente, la función más importante es la recreación, sea esta activa o pasiva, y de ahí su carácter eminentemente social’’

“The uses of all green spaces are many: purifying the corrupted city air, giving the inhabitant contact with the greatly dwindling presence of nature and providing a space where objects of artistic and historical merit can be presented. But, fundamentally, the most important use is that of recreation and its imminent social worth, be it active or passive” (Summa 117, 27)

The creation and renovation of neighborhood amenities became pivotal to the

Dictatorship’s mark on the city and urban society. As symbols for “order and cleanliness,” it was deemed that parks and plazas were not only few and far between in the city of Buenos Aires, but the limited outdoor areas that existed for residents to use on a daily basis did not sufficiently promote order in daily life or create clean spaces in a dirty, infected city (Summa 119, 23).

Buenos Aires’ plazas had become nothing more than “potreros”7. Therefore, from blighted existing plazas, parks and urban lots in conditions deemed deplorable, the municipality began to put forth a comprehensive plan to improve the stock of parks and plazas within the city. For plazas in particular, this plan included the design of new plazas, renovation and remodel existing spaces and the insertion of new elements that would not alter the essence of the space, but would improve it significantly (23). This general action plan was then echoed for rincones8 and patios

(commonly called plazoletas in Spanish), parks and, later, larger-scale public sports-complexes.

7 “Pastures” or “paddocks,” a derogatory term to describe the sad condition of these green spaces, only fit for horses and livestock. 8 Literally translated: Neighborhoods “corners.”

Rockhold 17 The Argentine architectural journal Summa defines rincones as areas between buildings or on empty lots that began appearing in Buenos Aires between the years 1972 and 1973, supplementing the disappearing patios of private homes and apartments (44). As public spaces, rincones, usually bearing the title plazoleta, are also frequently equipped with playground equipment and small areas for exercise. These areas for neighborhood gathering also became a popular place for ferias, street fairs where artisanal and local vendors of a wide range of crafts set up their shops on weekends. Though these small neighborhoods zones were not a key point for the dictatorial municipality, their renovation did add to the general goals of beautifying the city. For this reason, magazines like Summa would frequently detail projects like the centrally located Plazoleta Alfonso Rodriguez Castelao, renovated in 1977. The area of Plazoleta Castelao is one of significant importance to the city as it is adjacent to the main thoroughfare from north to south, Avenida 9 de Julio. This project placement and similar trends become clear through an extended analysis of construction locations in order to understand the municipality’s goals and the marks they intentionally left on Buenos Aires’s landscape for future citizens.

Plazas, the “pride of the Buenos Aires neighborhood” are slightly larger than rincones and, throughout Argentina and many Latin American countries, are medium-sized, neighborhood open areas that are normally contained in the area of a few blocks (Summa). Summa delineates that “a plaza is an open space, accessible at a pedestrian level, whose area varies between one and three blocks” the plaza also “serves the neighborhood and, for this reason, it is considered that it should not be further than 300 to 400 meters from the residence of the user” (Summa 119,

27). The French baroque inspired plan of the provincial capital of Buenos Aires, La Plata, is an example of a personified ideal to have plazas within the reach of every resident.

Located just to the south of Buenos Aires Capital, La Plata is one of many cities in the

Rockhold 18 country heralded for its availability of plazas and open spaces. As can be seen in Figure 1, the city plan features a plaza or park every six blocks. The neighborhood atmosphere and variety that this creates is unique to the city; afternoon mates9 are spent at the plaza closest to one’s home, or a nearby park for larger occasions; university students spend time practicing sports or studying in el bosque, the forested park area at the head of the plan in Figure 7; and large celebrations, such as the city’s anniversary take place in the central plaza, Plaza Moreno, that is headed by the city’s cathedral on the western end and the city hall to the east. La Plata’s 1882 plan represents an Argentine ideal of accessible, open space evenly spread out throughout a city. Many of the dictatorship’s plans for Buenos Aires city’s open spaces return to this ideal insofar as design and concept. Plaza renovations generally utilized geometric plans or geometric features and ornamentation. These neighborhood spaces are a useful resource used daily by residents and their small area makes them altogether easy to renovate, as will be seen in the following sections.

Figure 7: Map of La Plata, Argentina (Municipalidad de La Plata)

The differentiation of spaces is a key element in the municipality’s work of creating and

9 A strong South American tea, commonly shared among friends.

Rockhold 19 maintaining neighborhood amenities in order to improve them. Mayor Cacciatore defined two separate ways to use a space, differentiating “passive” uses from “active” uses. Pathways and shady areas in parks and plazas (smaller, neighborhood green, open spaces) would create spaces for “passive” uses for strolling and enjoying nature. Specially designated areas, on the other hand, would be destined for “active” uses, such as sports or other high-energy activities done for a specific purpose (practicing sports for leisure, personal health or discipline). Late into the dictatorship and Cacciatore’s reign, a third manner of using land also appeared on the municipality’s agenda, which would attempt to put Argentina and Buenos Aires on the map.

Echoing a past, albeit semi-populist mindset, Cacciatore would also delve into the arena of

“amusement” in attempts to create the largest amusement park in South America, reminiscent of

Disneyland (Contreras 166). This is a unique project that was many years in the making, placed in an area designed to be an “amusement complex.” The park itself would sit adjacent to a new zoo and botanical garden for the city and would stand to represent a culmination of all the smaller projects and goals the government set out to achieve.

When describing the thought process behind the planning of each of these open spaces,

Mayor Cacciatore stated that, “[we] noted that it was necessary to create spaces for practicing sports if we wanted to impede the clandestine use of areas created specifically for passive activity” (232). Instead of presenting a strict policy that laid out proper uses for public spaces and prohibited those that were considered “improper” (such as a nighttime game of soccer), planners set out to design each of the above described public areas in such a way that would

“suggest” the correct uses without the direct implementation of policy. According to analysis conducted by Galen Cranz, this line of thinking is not uncommon in the history of urban parks.

In fact, these defined areas could be considered a “moral defence against the potential for chaos”

Rockhold 20 in an era where “spare time” could be considered a societal threat (Cranz 212). Furthermore, by manipulating designs and lighting of said public spaces, the de facto government could assure parks were surveilled to their liking. As will be described in the case studies below, this greatly impacted the designs of the parks and plazas.

By methodical planning, the Parks and Recreation Department of Buenos Aires utilized neighborhood public space and design to promote highly suggested ideals of life. These areas had the potential to become “a guide and an orientation for the proper and positive use of free time” for children in a very “unique” and malleable time in their lives and could later serve to

“illuminate channels by which he or she can be their true self” (Summa 119, 28). As will be described in the following case studies, this subconscious orientation was conducted by physically limiting the amount of options for uses of certain open spaces and suggesting others by both physically limiting options and implementing policy. Uses as simple as misplaced athletic activities that did not create an “orderly” and “clean” space were frowned upon and each design mirrors this mindset.

Plaza de Mayo Plazas specifically presented spaces with various ways for a neighborhood to enjoy the outdoors in a dense, urban environment. They also allowed for a quick and easy way for the municipal government of Buenos Aires to alter the city landscape and instill in the city their sense of “order” and cleanliness. The uses of these alterations are not limited to these two generic goals, however. Many plazas represented political and cultural facets of Argentine history and daily life and to alter these meant leaving a permanent, discernible mark on the map of Buenos Aires and the daily lives of its inhabitants. Doctor Luján Menazzi Canese clearly states in her dissertation, “Ciudad en Dictadura” (“the City Under Dictatorial Rule”) that the

Rockhold 21 form these new and altered plazas took was a departure from the design of the traditional plazas of the city. The original Plaza de Mayo in Buenos Aires (Figure 5) is an example of this traditional French-inspired plaza with open spaces and geometric paths. During the Proceso, however, many neighborhood plazas like Plaza Houssay and Plaza del Angel Gris (Figures 20 and 22, respectively) began to rely heavily on the use of concrete, ornamental fountains, amphitheaters and pergolas, following the international fashion of the time (Canese).

Plaza de Mayo, located in the coastal heart of Buenos Aires proper (Figure 8) was one of the first victims to dictatorial transformation and “renovations.” It is no secret to Argentina’s general population that Plaza de Mayo has always held a pivotal and central location in Buenos

Aires’ map and political history. Even before its official inception as “Plaza de Mayo” proper in

1850, the two blocks that the plaza inhabits were of extreme political significance to the nation

(“Plazas”).

Figure 8: Location of Plaza de Mayo within Buenos Aires (Google)

Plaza de Mayo’s history as a place of pivotal importance begins with the foundational stone of Buenos Aires, rumored to have been placed in the plaza’s current location by conquistador, Juan de Garay on the 11th of June in the year 1580 (Summa 119 30, Tella).

Located on the mouth of the La Plata River, Buenos Aires originated as a port of exit for Spanish

Rockhold 22 conquistadors and missionaries who would enter the southern portion of the American continent through ports along the coasts of what is now Venezuela. From this point forward, the Spaniards began their travel south until reaching Argentina and establishing the port city of Buenos Aires.

The oldest inhabited section of the city is strategically located along the coastal region Here, the

Buenos Aires ports of Puerto Madero and Retiro would boom with trade and commerce centuries later (Oleksow, Tella). Plaza de Mayo, pinpointed on Figure 11, located just to the south of these ports is nestled in a neighborhood of extremely narrow cobblestone streets and sidewalks between a bustling shopping district (on Florida Street) and the San Telmo neighborhood, well- known for its tango culture.

The original Plaza de Mayo space was an unplanned, open area half its current size where citizens could gather or trade as they wished. As pictured in Figure 10, the original Spanish fort was located to the east of this space, the Cabildo was later constructed on the southwestern corner and not long after, a cathedral to the north and an uncompleted theater on the eastern side

(not pictured). The city block that now constitutes the second half of the plaza, south of the

Recova (Plaza del Fuerte in Figure 10) was acquired by the Spanish in the 17th century from

Jesuit Missionaries in exchange for a series of lots just two blocks to the south that would become known as the “street of lights” (Summa 119 30). From this point forward, the city grew radially outwards from the two plazas. The Argentine architectural journal Summa also explains that this space did not become a formal plaza until the 17th century when, mimicking European trends of urban beauty, the city began taking pride in its open spaces. Pre-and post- independence, processions, coronation celebrations, executions, street fairs and theater productions all found their place in the plaza (30).

Once these spaces were designated as plazas, their names echoed the space and,

Rockhold 23 subsequently, their history. Records indicate the western-most sector of the plaza was known as both “Plaza Mayor” and “Plaza Grande” in the 17th century. In 1810, after the victorious revolution, it was renamed, “Plaza de la Victoria.” Similarly, the second was conceived as “Plaza del Fuerte,” indicating its adjacency to the Buenos Aires fort and, later, “Plaza 25 de Mayo” to commemorate the battle for independence from Spain (Summa 119, 30).

Figure 9 – General plan of the fort (bottom) Figure 10 – Map of the area during and the cabildo (top left) c. 1810 (Bruno) a British invasion in 1806 (Elias)

To this day, the plaza still constitutes what architectural historian Jorge Liernur describes as a “Civic Center.” The executive palace, Casa Rosada (the Pink House) heads the plaza, where the colonial fort once stood and the cabildo remains at the opposite end, as a reminder of the city’s colonial history (Bruno, Liernur 64). Due to this central location, the plaza remains a center of political urban life where residents flock to protest, celebrate or welcome new heads of state. If a march is in order, protesters will take to the streets, meeting at either at the Obelisk in central Buenos Aires or Plaza de los Dos Congresos (Park of the Two Congresses) a few blocks to the west and proceed less than a kilometer to the east, finishing at Plaza de Mayo as

Rockhold 24 diagramed in Figures 11 and 12. On October 19th of 2016, thousands of supporters of the international movement, Ni Una Menos10, took to the streets, using this same route, from the

Obelisk to Plaza de Mayo, mapped in Figure 11. This route provides a direct way to make an impactful statement on a national level. As the Obelisk is a tourist attraction, a national symbol and is strategically located in the middle of one of the most transited roadways in Buenos Aires

(Avenue 9 de Julio), organizing large-scale protests that originate at such a landmark primarily disrupts local traffic and circulation. The social and political message is then reestablished by marching to Plaza de Mayo, where the current political situation meets 500 years of history. A century’s worth of these marches and protests have consecrated this plaza in its central role to

Argentine politics and any Argentine leader, media outlet or citizen in its 23 provinces or surrounding nations finds it difficult to ignore the happenings at Plaza de Mayo.

Figure 11: Trajectory of marches that begin at the Obelisk (Google)

10 Translated to English means “Not One [Woman] Less,” this title for the movement, begun as a hashtag in Argentina, that aims to combat sexist violence and the recurring trend of femicides and disappearances of women across Latin America. The Ni Una Menos movement organized their first large-scale march on June 3rd, 2015 (“Qué es Ni Una Menos”).

Rockhold 25

Figure 12: Trajectory of marches that begin at the Plaza de los dos Congresos (Google)

In particular, the leaders of El Proceso were undeniably aware of the massive mobilization at this plaza just three years before, where thousands flocked to Plaza de Mayo to welcome returning, democratically elected Perón11 to Presidency after the eight year military dictatorship of Juan Carlos Ongania (1966-1973) (Vezzetti). Therefore, public officials were quick to begin dismantling the plaza for their own political goals. Renovations on Plaza de Mayo began not long after the March paramilitary coup and took less than a year to complete, reopening for the Buenos Aires community in late 1976 (Summa 119).

Summa clearly highlights that the changes restored multiple features that were done away with in the 1950 renovation. As can be seen in the figures below, the renovation and alterations done to the plaza in 1950 markedly removed a large number of physical, ornamental features from the plaza and widened the four main walkways (East/West more so than the North/South walkway). This was done to with the intention of embracing the spirit of the space, allowing for frequent, massive political demonstrations (such as the one welcoming Peron in 1973). However, according to certain writers, this created the chronic problem of daunting open spaces, only to be

11 Argentine president from 1946-1955 and again upon his return from Spain in 1973, serving until his death in 1974 (Oleksow).

Rockhold 26 crossed quickly out of fear. Therefore, the municipal government of 1976 set out to “designate a greater amount of surface area for relaxation and conversation.” This consisted of restoring grassy and plant-rich areas of the plaza that were not meant to be welcoming to protesters, the installation of fountains and other artificial bodies of water for a similar purpose and the aesthetic addition of a “touch of color” to areas faded by the sun (31).

The 21st century renovations to Washington Square Park in New York City resemble this

Porteño12 redesign for improved visibility and more organized space. In December 2007, the

Michael Bloomberg administration began construction on the lower-Manhattan park, which quickly turned into a $16 million project to improve the formerly neglected area (Hales, Swan).

Although all quadrants of the park were reconstructed, changes to the “central plaza”13 received the most attention. The park’s fountain, originally placed on center with the park itself, but out of line with the Washington Square Arch, designed by Stanford White, was moved approximately

22 feet to align with the triumphal arch and Fifth Avenue. To the discontent of many neighbors, the grounds directly around the fountain were also elevated “to make it accessible” and nine trees were shifted around the periphery (“Washington Park Reconstruction,” Swan).

As journalist and founder of the Washington Square Park blog, Cathryn Swan, points out, the project was more than an attempt to improve the area for its residents. Before the renovation, the center sector of the park was surrounded by large trees and sunk approximately two feet below street level, as shown in Figure 13. Here, a variety of performers used the space as a theater to present their work throughout the late 20st century. As Swan points out, a space that is

12 “Those of the port”: of or pertaining to the city of Buenos Aires. 13 The NYC Parks and Recreation formal report on this reconstruction states the following of the changes to the central plaza: “The fountain was completely rebuilt and restored in its previous dimensions and is now the focal point of a large central plaza, rebuilt on one level to make it accessible. The shifting of the fountain helped make possible an approximately 20 percent increase in unpaved green space in the park. The new lawns abutting the plaza are for passive recreation.”

Rockhold 27 below street level and surrounded by trees, especially when in full bloom, is difficult for police or other officials passing by on the surrounding streets to monitor. As this area found itself quickly gentrifying by the 21st century, this came to be a problem for those calling for enforced security measures (Swan).

Figure 13 – Washington Square Park Figure 14 – Washington Square ` Pre-Renovation in 2007 (Bary) Post- Renovation

Like the reconstruction to New York’s Washington Square Park, the changes to Plaza de

Mayo (Figure 16) did restore the plaza to a more traditional, orderly and well-defined layout that could reduce the potential for political and unorganized cultural activity. While Washington

Square Park became easier to surveil, those reconstructing Plaza de Mayo chose to include more ornamentation and defined spaces not suited for manifestations of large groups of people. The

Argentine plaza’s 1976 restoration (Figure 17) was reminiscent of the highly decorated 1929 design (Figure 15) (one year before Argentina experienced its first coup-d'etat). Figure 17 demonstrates a greater amount of ornamentation, designated walkways and more striking decoration around the central commemorative pyramid, 25 de Mayo. The east-west walkway that became a wide thoroughfare after renovations in 1950 (Figure 15) (not coincidentally, under the populist government of Juan Domingo Perón) were narrowed with large, decorative planters to divide foot traffic into two lanes. Furthermore, the spaces around each of the four fountains

(numbered with a “2”) also became well-defined, narrow walkways that separate nature from

Rockhold 28 foot traffic (Summa 119).

Figure 15 - Plaza de Mayo 1929 (Summa 119)

Figure 16 - Plaza de Mayo 1950 (Summa 119)

Figure 17 - Plaza de Mayo with projected changes 1976 (Summa 119)

Official justification of these renovations listed many reasons including aesthetic improvement, modernization and the general improvement of the area for citizens. In this context, however, Mayor Cacciatore himself writes in his personal memoir, Solo Los Hechos

(Just the Facts) that the changes the municipal government and the designers made to the plaza insofar as its layout and ornamentation protected the historic area against violent political protests and manifestations. He describes the renovations of the plaza as follows:

Rockhold 29 One of the guidelines we had in mind to go forth with the renovations [of plaza de mayo] was to overcome and impede the amount of political and union manifestations that take place in the city. Therefore, we synthesized the idea, expressing that we had to eliminate the ‘political pasture.’ The current reality had resulted from political use that gave way to occupations of the plaza by thousands of people who would stomp on the grass, flowers and potters and would leave behind brutal destruction inflicted upon the aesthetic of such a historic plaza (233)

Official opinion regarding politics in open spaces was made expressly clear in law 21,261 established March 26th of 1976 that deemed it unlawful to mobilize or protest against the government (Suspensión del Derecho de Huelga). This and many other “precautions” came to be allowed under a special State of Emergency status implemented by the de facto government upon their rise to power. Many interviewees (architects and other professionals alike) reported that this

State of Emergency presented a number of guidelines for daily life with exaggerated and aggressive consequences. The outstanding example for this study is the case of a blanket ban on public gathering, which has been cited both under this law and under the State of Emergency declaration. Regardless of its political status, this statute functioned like a law by disallowing the gathering of more than four people in public spaces and, under certain circumstances, even gathering in the safety of one’s own home was not accepted.

Those who were suspected of conspiring against the government in large groups were normally detained or directly “disappeared” if they were already on the government’s black list

(Mikita). Specifically, one of the many disenfranchised groups this law affected was low-income residents of the Buenos Aires area. Social worker Cristina Bettanin points this out in her case study “Authoritarian Urban Practices” about collective memory in Buenos Aires public housing.

Interviewing various residents of Conjunto Soldati, a housing complex constructed for the desplaced residents of the informal settlement (or villas14, as they are commonly referred to in

14 Villas, also known as villas miserias or villas de emergencia, are precarious settlements or “shantytowns” that

Rockhold 30 Argentina), Villa Soldati, she says, all recollect a common fear overtaking them after the assumption of dictator Jorge Rafael Videla. In order to raise funds for this low-income community, the residents would often meet weekly or monthly to plan how to pay their bills and expenses. After the coup, however, many neighbors were taken away for suspicious behavior and so stopped these frequent meetings. Members of the community then had to develop their own independent methods or take the risk by meeting in private homes or in stairwells (Bettanin).

Many continued to risk their lives in order to fight for their causes and against the actions of the de facto government. One group in particular was able to find legal alternatives to these laws and public guidelines. Madres de Plaza de Mayo (Mothers of Plaza de Mayo) came to be known for their public protests at Plaza de Mayo, as their title implies. The women first came together in attempts to occupy Plaza de Mayo in 1976, ready to protest the disappearances of their sons and daughters who had been taken away by the same military dictatorship. However, upon arrival, they were told that they could not gather in groups greater than four, as the State of

Emergency decreed. Therefore, the Madres developed another tactic; they began to march around the Plaza de Mayo pyramid (seen in the center of the plaza in Figures 15-17, installed in the 1920s to commemorate the fight for independence (Summa 119)) in silence in order to avoid conflict. Every Thursday, the Madres would march in Plaza de Mayo in political defiance, demanding answers for these disappearances that never came (Pellini).

To this day, the mothers and their supporters still march around the pyramid, in silence to commemorate the disappeared children and organize elsewhere, now campaigning to find their now-adult grandchildren (the sons and daughters of the disappeared), taken upon birth and appropriated by military personnel. They beg for concrete answers to the same questions that

first emerged in Buenos Aires as early as the 1940s as emergency solutions for the working class who could not afford to live in the city (Tella).

Rockhold 31 were presented to them 40 years ago upon their children’s’ disappearances and no government has yet provided (Pellini).

The Madres’ demonstrations show how laws, guidelines and even design affect what, to the North American observer, appear to be neutral, green spaces for exercise, recreation or lounging. In order to keep a visible spectrum of peace among the city and knowing the Argentine people’s antecedents in using and reclaiming public spaces for political demonstrations, the dictatorial government chose to rely on ornamentation (what with large fountains and cement creations), layout (smaller walkways that cannot be easily taken up by masses of protesters) and regulation of space (both politically and suggested by design) in order to dictate the “correct” uses of the spaces they commissioned.

Plaza Houssay In his book, Dictadura y Democracia (Dictatorship and Democracy), historian Juan

Suriano points to Plaza Houssay, just on the west side of the famed Avenida 9 de Julio, as an important example of authoritarianism expressed in the design of public space (Figure 19). This includes both the easy and forced entanglements between politics and the modeling of urban space through design and involved parties. This plaza’s renovations were formally requested early in Cacciatore’s time as mayor by the governing board of the University of Buenos Aires

(UBA). Renovations to Plaza Houssay would, therefore, take on a symbolic significance in

Cacciatore’s reign over the city of Buenos Aires.

Rockhold 32

Figure 18 – Map of Buenos Aires Neighborhoods (“Mapa”)

The plaza is located on the edge of two centrally located Porteño neighborhoods,

Recoleta and Balvanera (Figure 18) on Córdoba Avenue, a major East-West thoroughfare that connects large portions of the city. The area is well-served by public transportation, a wide range of shops and restaurants and is also surrounded by a variety of academic institutions, from primary schools to the University of Buenos Aires Colleges of Dentistry, Economics and, most importantly, Plaza Houssay is directly adjacent to the College of Medicine and a number of the most important hospitals in the city. This takes on both political and academic significance, especially as medicine was one of the few college careers that did not find itself suffering nationally under the seven-year Proceso. Many of the arts, social sciences and even architecture, on the other hand, were severely repressed and suffered greatly due to their constant ties to politics. In a personal interview, architectural historian Jorge Mele revealed that architecture in particular was a heavily attacked field of study during this period. Architecture, he mentioned, was to be completely divorced from political and social context in academia, it was “washed of social content.” Those who believed in the philosophies and concepts of the modern,

Rockhold 33 “international style” of architecture as one that could erase dangerous mindsets of nationalism were heavily dissuaded from practicing and, in numerous cases, found themselves politically and physically repressed as a result. This occurred to such a degree that Mele and fellow architects began an underground architectural society named La Escueltia (the Little School) where members would gather in private homes to exchange ideas, share portfolios and give talks and workshops. Mele recalls that, in particular, many members drew inspiration from communist and post-modernist ideals of society, politics and architecture, theories that were heavily persecuted during the dictatorship. In fact, as he stated, no architect in Argentina does not recall the disappearance of at least two or three colleagues, especially in the academic field (Mele).

In this context, Plaza Houssay’s ties to the medical profession and capital city’s main public university make it a notable example for exploring renovations to neighborhood plazas.

Since medicine is an exact science that has been lauded for decades, the dictatorship clearly saw this as an opportunity to promote the field within the capital city, as a vessel for promoting it nationally (all the while actively dissuading the practice of other socially oriented fields). In fact, hygiene (a “clean” science, supposedly free from political thought) was so central to the dictatorship’s goals that it is a featured section of a 200-page publicity book released by

Cacciatore’s municipality in 1980. Buenos Aires Hacia Una Ciudad Mejor (Transforming

Buenos Aires into an Improved City) details most of the large-scale projects of the dictatorship and, in particular, lauds the municipality’s many plans to build, renovate and expand Buenos

Aires’s many public hospitals. According to Cacciatore, “the idea formed part of a greater political strategy adopted by the municipal government that established that which responded to a particular service must be resolved for each and every user” (132). However, Canese points out that, in reality, these plans like many others fell short. Cacciatore’s administration never

Rockhold 34 completed a single new hospital and was only able to renovate two public hospitals, one from

1979 to 1981 and the other between the years 1980 and 1982 (Canese).

Plaza Houssay’s renovations, undoubtedly meant to benefit and inspire the students of medicine, began in 1979 and, designed by architects Gutiérrez, Peñalba and Liberatori were finished in 1980, less than a year later (Suriano). Its “authoritarian” design and context feature one of the greatest uses of concrete seen in the multiple parks and plazas renovated by this municipal government, which promptly leads Suriano to mention the ironic, political sense of

“dictatorial architecture” within this period (Suriano). The ideal that recreation “completes the life of man” is reflected here in the strictest sense and carried out with the utmost urgency. Seen in figures 19 and 20, strict cement walkways and curbs define physical guidelines between passive walkways, grassy green sectors for casual recreation and athletic areas (Figure 21) which include basketball courts, ping pong tables and workout equipment (Summa 119, 27)

As Jorge Mele made clear in his interview, during the Proceso, architecture was clearly suspected due to its vernacular ability. For example, large common areas could easily present the potential to support socialist ideals through communitarian lifestyles. The dictatorship, however, simultaneously used design and architecture for its own ends. In Plaza Houssay in particular, these large concrete walkways come to suggest where the user should wander within the park and cement stools are placed around the plaza in clusters of no more than three, suggesting the ideal group size. The cement dividers seen throughout Figures 19, 20 and 21 teach users how to correctly prioritize their time and not confuse functions, again, for the supposed upkeep of the

“beautiful,” manicured green spaces. Cacciatore’s propaganda booklet Buenos Aires hacia una ciudad mejor states that:

The practice of improvised sports is constantly controlled for the upkeep of green spaces. A father can play with his son in the plaza, children can run,

Rockhold 35 but soccer, rugby and similar sports are not allowed. For these sports, we are constructing sports complexes and special courts, inaugurated by the municipality. This way, destruction of planters and unique species is deftly avoided (70)

Like in the case of Plaza de Mayo, the design and material strongly suggests upkeep to benefit the aesthetic condition of the city. However, at an academic institution in a nation known for student involvement in politics, here as well, the design and these “suggestions” for the division of uses leaves less space for political demonstration which could also lead to said

“destruction of planters and unique species” (70). Further, if citizens learn to use the space in such a manner, they will apply this anti-political sentiments and orderly conduct to the rest of their daily lives.

Similar to Plaza Houssay, along with decorative natural features, Plaza del Angel Gris15 features a large amount of sculptural concrete (Figure 22). Located in southern Buenos Aires, large, looming pergolas decorate Plaza del Angel Gris and leave visitors questioning their practicality. This implementation of the internationally acclaimed modern, Brutalist style in these neighborhood plazas hints at the government’s intentions to assure its citizens that their presence is permanent, well-established and, in essence, will modernize the city both functionally and aesthetically. The notable implementation of concrete, a sturdy material, also suggests the subtle penetration of government into daily life. The strong divisions within the plaza created by these concrete features define different and separate uses that must not be confused in the plaza or in daily life. It is further implied that the space must be kept as orderly as Argentine society, suggested by the limited amount of permanently placed seating in groups of no larger than three.

15 “Plaza of the Grey Angel,” formerly known as Plaza Aramburu—an infamous Argentine general who assassinated a number of citizens over 60 years ago (Dolina).

Rockhold 36

Figures 19 and 20 - Plaza Houssay in 2016

Figure 21 - The athletic quadrant of Plaza Houssay

Figure 22 - Plaza del Angel Gris

Today, both Plaza Houssay and Plaza del Angel Gris are being renovated to include more green space, with both artificial AstroTurf-like material and organic, and circulation is made easier by creating wide, meandering paths that lead to the many sections of the plaza. Remnants of the large, heavily concrete plaza still remain to remind passersby of a different time and

Rockhold 37 different styles in design. However, one must be perceptive to this particular use of style. For the dictatorship, design choices were not only a crucial, modernizing facet to bring Argentina into the 20th century but also strategically made, in a neighborhood that housed many politically acceptable institutions that were actively promoted, such as medicine and, to a certain degree, economics. This internationally popular brutalist design and the materials used (heavy, sturdy cement) symbolize a greater greed for power and stability within the social and political structure of the nation. Furthermore, the large cement pergolas placed in Plaza del Angel Gris, pictured in

Figure 21, have no other function than to serve as a sculptural hint at modernity through the employment of popular new ways to use materials (like the use of sculptural concrete for the

Teatro Argentino in Figure 5).

Although many of these decisions may appear to have been made for the good of the population and to add to the integrity of the city, there are hidden caveats. The promotion of outdoor recreation and healthy lifestyles masks design and location choices that are, once again, indicative of the “deserving” populations they were meant to benefit. By placing these plazas in front of institutions such as the College of Medicine, the plaza symbolizes a reward for those students, while neglecting and repressing others. Further, only those aware of international trends—the educated and worldly class—could appreciate these sculptural details. Specifically, the chosen central location of these parks clearly benefitted middle and upper-class populations wealthy enough to live in these areas and have the time and capacity to take advantage of these neighborhood amenities.

Plaza Monseñor de Andrea Plazas and parks also gave public officials a relatively socially accepted path through which to “clean up” certain areas they did not feel benefitted the population, namely those

Rockhold 38 “plagued” by precarious living conditions and lifestyles. Plaza Monseñor de Andrea, located in the central and now sophisticated, charming neighborhood of Recoleta (Figure 23) was cited by

Cacciatore himself as being home to “intruders” of public land, dwellers of an 11-family informal shantytown, designated as Villa 4016 by government officials (Blaustein). Through an arrangement with the Ministry of Citizen Wellbeing, the municipality seized the land and, after concluding that the conditions in this block were unlivable and businesses were unsanitary, the

11 families and two small businesses were displaced to make way for the improvements of the small plaza these families settled on in the early years of the dictatorship (Cacciatore 234).

Designated as a plaza as early as 1929, Plaza Monseñor Miguel de Andrea occupies one street block with an area of approximately 3.5 acres. Miguel de Andrea’s location is central to the discussion on the renovation of plazas as it sits approximately 16 blocks to the east of main thoroughfare, Avenida 9 de Julio, famed to be the widest in the world (Summa 119, 34). On the intersection of four central Buenos Aires barrios (neighborhoods), this plaza’s central location makes it the perfect municipal project for architectural journal Summa to highlight in detail. It is centrally located and marks the peripheral edge of a series of 13 centrally-located plazas within a one-mile radius (Figure 24).

16 Villas, also known as villas miserias or villas de emergencia (after the first “emergency” attempt to do away with these areas of precarity in the 1960s) are informal settlements or “shanty towns” populated by working-class people. Villas began to appear in Argentine cities as early as 1930 and reached their historic apex during industry growth in the 1950s. These settlements soon began to attract internal migrants and immigrants from peripheral nations that arrived in the city to work in and around the ports, railroad and production industries (Ozlak, Blaustein).

Rockhold 39

Figure 23 – Plaza Monseñor de Andrea (Google)

Figure 24 - Conglomerate of Plazas in Central Buenos Aires (Google)

This reclaiming of public land was part of a larger program instigated by the dictatorship in order to erase any trace of precarious informal settlements from visible landscape of Buenos

Aires. The Plan de Erradicacón de Villas (Villa Eradication Plan) was signed in 1977 to solve this same issue. In three phases, freezing, discouragement and eradication, the municipality would insert themselves into informal settlements or villas as they are commonly referred to in

Argentina, in order to bulldoze these areas and “take back” public land for the betterment of the community. In the first step, the municipality would take records of the area with topographical maps and censuses of the population in order to better control and “freeze” the growth of these areas (Cacciatore 225, Ozlak 162). Discouragement, or desaliento consisted of making these neighborhoods unlivable for the residents. As many as 50 public officials were stationed in the

Rockhold 40 villas in order to “convince” residents to find other solutions on their own. Stores and businesses were also shut down in this stage due to “negative sanitary conditions” and those who attempted to construct, rent out or sell structures were punished and evicted (Cacciatore 225). Finally, eradication came when the municipality could begin to evict all residents who had not found alternative solutions, taking them away in military trucks and then using bulldozers to erase all traces of built environment, including improvements made by previous governments and any infrastructure put in by the communities (Snitcofsky).

Villeros (villa residents) were commonly referred to by Cacciatore and other cynics as

“intruders” and persons who enjoyed squatting on public land instead of using their resources to find other solutions. Sociologist Oscar Ozlak points out in his aptly named book, Merecer la

Ciudad (Deserving the City) that the government insisted upon the fact that since many villeros owned cars and businesses, they had sufficient resources to secure, build or rent other means of housing for themselves and their families, but, according to official reports, until the moment of eradication, these people had not wanted to move out of the villas (Ozlak 159). Public officials, namely the director of the Municipal Commission of Housing used this issue as leverage to prove their point that “living in Buenos Aires is not for anyone; it is for those who deserve it and live lives that are courteous to others and efficient for the livelihood of the rest of the community” (Blaustein 18). This rhetoric is echoed within the use and renovations of the public parks and plazas that would later be built on these appropriated lands. As Ozlak states,

[The authorities] justified the eradication of the villas de emergencia by questioning the ways of appropriating and using [state-owned] land. It was unilaterally decided that recovering zones destined for public works would give way to the construction of highways or the expansion of green spaces. Relocating industry produced the virtual disappearance of jobs and, inevitably, the exodus of the worker population…. From the lens of certain social and state sectors, the poor of the city were always a pending threat (160).

Rockhold 41 It was made clear that the city and its spaces were not, in fact, for everyone, but for those who deserved the improvements that were being implemented. The neoliberal economic policies of the Proceso’s Minister of Economy, José Martinez de Hoz favored the disappearance of virtually all small-scale industry in favor of import-based policies and multinational companies.

Working hand-in-hand with Caccitore to market the process of deindustrialization, this could be easily translated as a decision made to “clean” the city of industrial waste and pollution (De

Santis).

All of these processes, particularly the elimination of industrial jobs and informal settlements, were meant to cleanse and improve the population and aesthetic appeal of public spaces. All in all, Villa Eradication Plan displaced as many as 200,000 people—almost 7% of the city’s population—in order to make way for these improvements: shopping centers, government offices and open spaces that could, to the government, truly add something to the city (Ozlak).

Although the 11 families inhabiting Plaza Monseñor de Andrea that were displaced may appear to be nothing more than a small fraction of the overall statistic, it represents a greater trend of ridding the city of unwanted inhabitants who did not “deserve” the city because of their socioeconomic status within it (an issue to be discussed in further detail with the construction of

Parque Almirante Brown in the next chapter). As one of the first plazas created as a result of this process, Monseñor de Andrea was featured as a successful example in the CMV’s instruction manual for the implementation of their wider villa eradication plan, Librito Azul, published in

1980 (Blaustein, Sehtman y Cavo).

Reconstruction of Plaza Monseñor de Andrea was begun by the Cacciatore’s municipality and its opening inauguration took place in 1977. The alterations made by the municipality (Figure 25) stand out for the amount of amenities added to such a small space in

Rockhold 42 order to designate uses and discourage others; in this plaza, the distinctions between “passive” and “active” use are clearly demarcated by the designers. Active recreation is limited to two

“patios” of children playgrounds (center circles labeled with a “3” in the diagram below) in the center of the park for the nuclear family to enjoy. Sitting areas for parents or caretakers are located around the perimeter of each and divisionary walkways just outside of these, such as the one pictured in Figure 26 (Summa 119, 34).

Architectural scholar Galen Cranz cites that a similar phenomenon of interest in children’s play arose in the US during the early 20th century. Play was the “child’s work” which, if not accommodated for would “lead to delinquency and crime” further, through “properly supervised play, children would gain respect for property, help maintain public safety and enforce law and order” (Cranz 191). Similarly, Cacciatore’s philosophy that playgrounds could serve as “a guide and an orientation for the proper and positive use of free time” would provide a correct model for future generations if the dictatorship expected to preserve and continue the

National Reorganization Process.

On the southwest corner, a large fountain that occupies the majority of this corner, leaving little room for circulation around it was installed. Summa describes the use of the fountain as one that would “enrich not only the passage, but also the surrounding urban environment” (Summa 119, 34). Once again, here, typical plaza features are aggrandized for the improvement of the plaza itself, but also the neighborhood. The fountain, measuring over four meters in diameter and painted a bright hue of blue becomes much more than a centerpiece or a gathering space; its presence can now transform an entire neighborhood previously spoiled by informal settlements.

Other new amenities included illumination around the plaza in order to enhance safety

Rockhold 43 and the opening of the northwest corner to vehicular street traffic17. The most circulated areas, such as walkways, were illuminated the most brightly and other, less trafficked zones, such as zones of heavy vegetation were illuminated with less intensity (Summa 119, 34). This illumination of walkways and not green spaces for recreations implies uses for different times throughout the day. Night walks could be allowed if returning home, but nighttime recreation would not have been an acceptable activity for neighbors. Conversely, this lighting could be used as a surveillance technique to enforce curfews under the aforementioned “state of emergency” and keep an eye on citizens at all times as was done in the 2007 renovations of Washington

Square Park, discussed above. Much like the fountain and the corner cut through for vehicular traffic, uses are once again limited by the designers to suggest what they would like to see in an ideal society and techniques through which to enforce these changes. Changes that could have truly benefitted the community, such as rehousing low-income citizens, however, were overlooked and this area, like many others, became a park through which to mold the deserving citizens who could afford homes and apartments in the area.

17 The prioritization of the automobile was a common trend in the Proceso’s policies which featured a seven-part highway system for the city of Buenos Aires, discussed in the following chapter. Cars were a middle-class commodity that allowed for individual and nuclear family transportation and supported the dictators’ goals of creating an organized, modern city for deserving citizens of good socioeconomic standing.

Rockhold 44

Figure 25 – Plan of 1977 Renovations for Figure 26 – Renovated Plaza Monseñor de Andrea 1977 Plaza Monseñor de Andrea (Summa 119) (Summa 119)

Plazas: Conclusions Buenos Aires’ plazas may appear to be small, intimate spaces, but they contain a vast amount of history and cultural context. By altering these spaces, their uses and neighborhood significance is subsequently altered as well. This not only done by barring certain activities, but by implying certain uses are allowed above others or adding distracting, conflicting ornamentation to dissuade “improper” uses. Plazas can not only aesthetically improve a neighborhood, they can provide a thoroughfare for improving a society. In the next section, the analysis of larger-scale parks will add to this by uncovering how the dictatorial government attempted to take a step further by molding its citizens through successful public spaces and recreation centers.

Rockhold 45 Chapter 2 Legacies, Spectacle and Amusement

Introduction Osvaldo Cacciatore’s obituary in the La Nación newspaper, dated July 30th, 2007 lists both his accomplishments and, surprisingly, a number of shortcomings during his time as mayor.

While the Brigadier “embraced the idea of altering the city to welcome the 1978 World Cup,” his administration spent millions of dollars without regard to social or economic effects of such spending. His controversial highway project, although supposedly “very useful for the common citizen,” expropriated over three million homes to make way for the cross-city expressways that connected the peripheries to the bustling city center (“Cacciatore el militar”)

Of the four major projects La Nación highlights in this ode to his life, the inception and creation of a unique “megaproject” for the city of Buenos Aires, earns its own paragraph due to its size, scale and eventual failure (much like the seven-part highway system that would have connected the city for middle-class car owners). The Interama Amusement Park was part of a greater outdoor leisure complex in southern Buenos Aires, set to present a Disneyland-like attraction and variety for guests: both domestic visitors and international tourists. This project continued the goals of neighborhood parks in a more visible fashion. The sports complex, zoo, botanic gardens and amusement park would re-establish strict parameters of societal order, add green space to the city and additionally could come to “distinguish the city as an international destination” (“Cacciatore el militar”) while presenting an amenity for select citizen demographics who could deserve and afford to enjoy it.

Riding on the success of the World Cup two years prior, the complex would have become a permanent feature of the city, attracting millions of visitors annually. The ambitious project was set aside until the early 1980s, but was nonetheless, was viewed as Cacciatore’s “legacy”

Rockhold 46 that followed and expanded upon the goals that led to the creation and renovation of Buenos

Aires’ many neighborhood spaces (“Cacciatore, el militar”).

The 1978 World Cup: All Eyes on Argentina Prior to the creation of the Interama amusement park project, the 1978 Soccer World Cup had taken the nation by storm, attracting thousands of visitors to Buenos Aires and Argentina’s other large cities. Although the number of tourists was less than originally expected, the tournament nonetheless presented revolutionary changes for the FIFA competition in both media and physical infrastructure. The Argentines welcomed international viewers with the first color transmission of each and every game, new structures to house the press during the month-long tournament, three new stadiums and remodels of four existing stadiums in the largest cities in the nation. With these many improvements, the dictatorship used the international spectacle to

“clean its image” as international press at the time were rightly beginning to question the treatment of human rights in the nation (Canese). Canese also points out that the World Cup attempted to rebuild national opinion of the de facto government, especially after the nation had suffered a series of economic hardships in years prior. National opinion would then go hand-in- hand with the rebuilding of national pride (through a successful run and hosting of the World

Cup), a step beyond the civic pride discussed in Chapter 1.

Early attempts had been made to control inflation and resulted in a sudden decline in workers’ wages in early 1978. This became a common trend throughout the dictatorship, which employed strongly neoliberal, unregulated economic policies that did not produce benefits for the working class. Throughout the seven years Argentina was governed by this military dictatorship, the nation’s inflation increased by three digits and its external debt almost sextupled, rising from 7.8 billion dollars in 1976 to 43.6 billion at its end in 1983. Disguised by

Rockhold 47 the farce of environmental advocacy, the attempted erasure of pollution-producing industries throughout the city was to be an important part in the shift towards an import-based economy that further impacted the working class. Working-class wages fell throughout these years and jobs in industry quickly began to disappear along with their factories (Navarro). To offset these negative outcomes, the nation, therefore, employed these costly alternate strategies to strengthen its domestic and international image.

While neighborhood spaces provided a vessel through which to strengthen city pride, the

World Cup presented a unique opportunity to reconstruct a sense of national pride through large- scale projects that could be widely televised. Through new television transmission technologies, the world would witness a well-constructed image of modern Argentina that reflected technological efficiency and receptiveness to new guests and challenges (Canese). It is estimated

(although no records remain) that the federal government spent between 500 and 700 million dollars to achieve this image—almost seven times what Spain would spend for the following

World Cup in 1982. The majority of these funds were allocated towards two goals: new infrastructure for the media and physical infrastructure for the games themselves (Canese). Both of these would succeed in revolutionizing the tournament, albeit in very different ways.

Summa architectural journal dedicated their 117th edition to documenting the infrastructure improvements inspired by the World Cup and argued that, it is not the games themselves, nor the winners but “the infrastructure necessary to support 23 competitors in 90 minutes of playing time [on the field]” which “constitutes the best efforts of the nation, its technicians and professionals” (43). The editors of Summa in the first few pages of this special edition continue to express that, “this infrastructure is what will demonstrate to the world what we are capable of achieving, overcoming economic and organizational problems; it is what, after

Rockhold 48 the last goal is lost in time and distance, will remain alive for generations to come.” Stadiums, color TV and satellite-bred communication were vital to these goals and the “image of a nation that chose to escape a state of prostration” (43). Although Summa remains a journal with a largely Argentine focus, this review and the significance that is placed on these improvements reflects what the dictators wanted to see—national pride and a sense of legitimacy. For,

Argentina was an advanced nation that could compete with past hosts like Mexico and England to produce awe-inspiring tournaments. In order to implement these vital infrastructure improvements, the City of Buenos Aires created the EAM 78 committee (Ente Autárquico

Mundial 78 – the 1978 World Cup Autocratic Entity) which worked in collaboration with the

German Center of Sports Construction of the Cologne Institute of Recreation to put on the internationally sought-after competition (Canese, Summa 117 45).

The improvement and construction of the stadiums for the World Cup was based on a basic manual of construction created by a coordinating group (lead by the Architectural studio,

Miguens, Pando and Associates) suggesting the guided design and redesign of the stadiums.

Three stadiums, two in Buenos Aires and one in Rosario were chosen to be remodeled for their

“indisputable ‘futbolera’ tradition”: Athletic Club River Plate’s Estadio Monumental, the largest in the country, would serve as the definitive host of the opening and closing games; Athletic

Club Velez Sarsfield’s home stadium would be the smaller, but central alternative; and Athletic

Club Rosario Central’s home stadium. Three large cities in central Argentina, Córdoba, Mar del

Plata and Mendoza mapped in Figure 27, on the other hand, were chosen to receive new stadiums. Summa states that this decision was made in order to offer a wider variety of participant cities and to improve upon their almost nonexistent recreational infrastructure. The central location of each national host city, in turn, provided easy transportation to and from the

Rockhold 49 capital “home base” for the tournament, all of which appear connected in Figure 27 (Summa 117

45).

Figure 27 - Map of the host cities for the 1978 World Cup (Summa)

Leading Argentine architectural firms were chosen to design the complex, new stadiums and renovation plans, namely the redesign of Velez Sarfield stadium, José Amalfitani, completed by Antonio Pérez and Ricardo A. Stariccio and Sepra SCA. This firm was also chosen to plan many of Cacciatore’s projects in Buenos Aires, such as the cement and brick-heavy schools and remodels for the Plan de 50 Escuelas (Plan of 50 Schools, two of which are pictured in Figures

28 and 29) and a never completed overhaul of the city’s hospitals (Summa 117 51-53, Canese).

These decisions were not in vain, for, according to Summa journal, each stadium could seat between 34,000 (Vélez Sarsfield) and 74,000 guests (River Plate). Between 2,000 (Córdoba) and

10,000 (River Plate) of these guests would be covered by some sort of overhead protection and the majority of stadiums could accommodate 700 members of the press. The stadiums included advanced lighting plots, redeveloped drainage systems and increased parking for the general public and the press (Summa 117 54). The municipality also granted free 20-year access to the

Rockhold 50 lots north of each of the two stadiums to the private athletic clubs, River Plate and Velez

Sarsfield, to develop as they saw fit (Canese).

Figure 28 - Escuela 23 de 18 República de Portugal Figure 29- Escuela N°5 D.E. 1 Nicolás Rodríguez Peña

The stadiums allowed for “flawless” play and views of every game, while the supporting media-based infrastructure made these changes visible to the rest of the world. Certain populations, however, did not reap the same benefits from the international spectacle. Those who lived in shanty towns or, villas, for example, were most affected by the World Cup and the dictatorship’s urban policies. Displacements for the World Cup constitute a significant fraction of the 200,000 low-income residents of Buenos Aires’ villas, who were displaced or hidden18, pointing at the regime’s unique distaste for the poorer sectors of the population (Ozlak). In fact, public officials insisted upon the idea that “living in Buenos Aires is not for anyone. It is for those who deserve it and live lives that are courteous and efficient for the rest of the community,” as the director of the Comisión Municipal de la Vivienda (CMV) (Municipal

Commission of Housing) stated in 1980 (Blaustein 18). Public opinion on villas, their undeserving residents and the general distaste towards the working-class sector of the population was echoed across federal and municipal projects, as will be seen upon further analysis of the

Interama amusement park in the following sections.

18 In the case of La ciudad oculta (“The Hidden City”), the government constructed physical walls to hide the villa from public view (Ozlak).

Rockhold 51

Figure 30 – Bajo Belgrano neighborhood (“Mapa Barrios”)

Sociologist Oscar Ozlak notes that the majority of the villa eradications19 were located in the north of the capital city, where many tourists would arrive for the 1978 World Cup. Journalist

Eduardo Blaustein highlights that the first villa to be eradicated was Bajo Belgrano (the southern sector of the Belgrano neighborhood) (Figure 30) located just a few miles to the north of the inaugural stadium of the tournament, Estado Monumental. Bajo Belgrano, a neighborhood known for its passionate support for soccer club, River Plate (whose home stadium is the Estadio

Monumental) consisted of eleven blocks that, before the villa inhabitants claimed it as their own, once harbored a golf club, equestrian rink and “beautiful parks” according the CMV’s official documentation (Blaustein 25). Bajo Belgrano was quickly cleared in order to make way for improvements for the World Cup, such as hotels and media networks stations for the groundbreaking color transmissions that would broadcast the tournament internationally and show that Argentina was a modern, orderly nation (“Infraestructura Para el Mundial”).

Once these reorganization projects were underway, the Centro de Producción Televisora

19 The aforementioned villa eradication plan became a three-tiered project to rid the city of these precarious settlements, inspired by plans created by Juan Carlos Onganía’s previous dictatorship (Blaustein 13).

Rockhold 52 (Center of Television Production) and the three press centers in Rosario, Mendoza and Buenos

Aires could play a central role in Argentina’s international advancements. The Centro de

Producción Televisora, that would be responsible for transmitting a refined black and white image to national audiences and novel color images of the tournament and the nation to international audiences, was located in central Buenos Aires. Designed by the Uruguayan architect Rafael Viñoly’s firm before he left Argentina in 1978, the layout of Centro de

Producción exhibits an international, modern focus and design.

As the Figure 31 demonstrates, the structure that housed the hub of international broadcasters and press is clad in a modern, neutral, white material. The four main structures are essentially rectangular, un-historicizing, nationally impartial boxes that features straight, clean lines and this shiny white finish. It also boasts an abundant amount of green space and parking that reflect Cacciatore’s accommodations for middle-class modern commodities. This presents the intricate balance of inorganic, modern commodities and a clean, natural image. Many of the parks discussed in Chapter 1 held these same contradictory features within just one city block— large amounts of inorganic material that provide a modernist touch, such as cement ornamentation (curbs, sidewalks, pergolas, benches and amphitheaters) working together with the natural beauty of trees, grass and bodies of water. In these many examples, it becomes clear that Cacciatore and his designers understood that, in order to advance and make their mark, modern styles and materials were necessary, as was the image of urban greenery.

Rockhold 53

Figure 31 – The Centro de Producción, designed by Viñoly in 1977 (Camaño)

The World Cup resulted in success for the Argentine national team, winning the controversial semifinal match in a 6-0 against Peru to go on to win the final against Holland

(Stevenson). It also assured a relative, yet temporary, political success for the nation20 within the national and international exposure it brought. Although tourism did not reach anticipated levels and mainly attracted visitors from bordering nations, journalist Roberto Aguirre Blanco argues that the Junta was complacent with this result. He states that the Proceso’s efforts in

“‘pacification’” of the nation were better shown through a manicured, televised image, such as those broadcast from the Centro de Producción. Those who did visit the country—athletes, journalists and the few tourists—could view firsthand the urban beauty that the dictatorship had carefully crafted for them to see, protected by prominent police presence (Blanco).

Therefore, all of this could be accomplished “without [anti-argentine] tourism in the middle of cities contained by the power of the military forces” as many European nations were home to exiled sports fans and participants (Blanco). While the international community was presented with a “clean” image of Argentina, the nation’s citizens were temporarily assured that the government could rise to the occasion and take on a major project such as the World Cup.

20 Arguably, with national pride bursting, the apex of the dictatorship’s public image.

Rockhold 54 Investment in this image would continue throughout the Proceso with the megapark project that became Cacciatore’s signature project.

Interama The World Cup, in its one-month duration, was a fleeting taste of worldwide recognition.

In order to secure a permanent place on a world stage and re-establish good standing with its citizens, the nation would need to create a different kind of attraction. Since the early 1960s, the city of Buenos Aires had been looking to develop a previously untouched, large plot of land in the southwestern portion of the city nestled between the working-class neighborhoods of Villa

Soldati and Villa Lugano known as the Almirante Brown Project (Figure 32). These marshlands on the flood-prone coast of the Matanza (or Riachuelo) River (Figure 33) constitutes almost 7% of Buenos Aires’s land and had been underutilized for decades, used as a waste disposal site for southern Buenos Aires and home to a handful of residents. Nonetheless, the lot caught Brigadier

Cacciatore’s eye as early as 1977 (Contreras). The 1,434 hectares (3,544 acres) of land was just enough, if not more than enough for an expansive “megaproject” that would put Argentina on the map of national and international tourist destinations (Rodríguez). Cacciatore and his administration began to envision a Parque Zoo-Fitogeográfico21; a multi-use, outdoor park with a variety of attractions, from a zoo to botanical gardens and, most importantly, the centerpiece that would finance it all: a massive Disneyland-inspired theme park (Rodríguez).

21 No direct translation; refers to an all-encompassing park-zoo-garden-nature reserve project.

Rockhold 55

The Riachuelo/Matanza River

Figure 32 – Location of Almirante Brown Park Figure 33 Riachuelo Flood Map (Burle) (green) relative to Buenos Aires neighborhoods (“Mapa Barrios”)

Allocating Space for the Megapark Before plans for this multi-use park were presented publicly, the area of Zona Sur, known to house the poorest sector of Buenos Aires’ population, became the focus of a new redevelopment program that attempted to transform the neighborhood into a middle-class haven of leisure in the name of environmental improvement. Eventually, it was expected that, with these transformations, the area could showcase Buenos Aires’ modern potential. In Solo Los

Hechos, Cacciatore lists the steps taken to transform this neighborhood, specifically outlining four that played a key role in improving the environmental state:

a) Suppressing the incineration of waste and replacing these machines with modern compactors and adopting new, sanitary landfills (finished in 1979) b) Eradicating landfill that occupied more than 130 hectares in Bajo Flores (accomplished in November of 1978) c) Transforming the ex-disposal sites into public parks; constructed and opened to the public in a series of stages between 1980 and 1981, duly named Presidente Julio A. Roca d) The construction of Interama Park, opened to the public in late 1982 (169)

These government actions fall into line with the 1977 Urban Planning Code, which called

Rockhold 56 for the environmental improvement of the city and zoning that limited the amount of factory production and, therefore, pollution in city centers (Canese, Cacciatore 169). These provisions, however, had hidden caveats, as discussed in Chapter 1. Upon closing the industry centers in the name of environmental progress, the country could continue its attempted shift towards a neoliberalist import-based economy (Dos Santis). Letters a) and b) listed above were also part of this greater plan of waste management that led to the replacement of many waste incinerators and compactors. Many areas like Almirante Brown were cleaned in this manner (b) and, subsequently, allowed for the eventual creation of a new, more sanitary landfill area for the city

(Cacciatore 170).

The large-scale removal of 130 hectares (321 acres) of landfill waste (b) and the eventual conversion of these lands into public parks (c), present examples of attempted neighborhood transformations through improvements, not conceived to directly improve any conditions of the working-class residents. For Cacciatore, these changes held the potential to attract new residents, visitors and audiences to the area (the final step of “improvement”). In order to improve, transform and reclaim land on the basis of “misuse,” multifaceted “environmental healing” processes were executed not only in Zona Sur, but throughout the city (Hacia Una Ciudad Mejor

88). According to the supporting text in the propaganda booklet Buenos Aires: Hacia una ciudad mejor, many sectors of the city were even reforested in order to create spaces dedicated to

“fabricating oxygen” to “reestablish the urban ecology” (88). Although it can be argued that these measures did, in fact, present some sort of positive environmental impact on the city of

Buenos Aires, government interest in the matter was not limited to this philanthropic goal of reducing pollutants detrimental to the environment.

The Cinturón Ecológico Área Metropolitana Sociedad del Estado (the State Society of

Rockhold 57 the Metropolitan Area Ecological Ring) (CEAMSE) organization was created in 1977 to help advocate for the goals listed above by Cacciatore. This would be done by, first, outlawing the practice of incinerating garbage in 1976 (Legislation). CEAMSE, comprised of City and

Provincial governments, would then manage the regulation of the final disposal of the city’s waste, transporting all refuse to new landfills in the periphery (CEAMSE).

Although CEAMSE continues to operate, it is clear that during its first years, organization became a vessel through which dictatorial government officials justified their many lofty projects, neighborhood transformations and beautification. Using CEAMSE’s benevolent goals and the tactics listed above, the improvements to Zona Sur paved the way for Cacciatore’s legacy project. Each of the stages listed above appear to be intricately planned and justified through environmental improvement in order make way for this fourth and final stage: the construction of Interama Park (d). By introducing modern waste compactors, the process of cleaning the land was expedited and facilitated in order to ease the process of establishing large parklands. This process also quite literally set the foundation for barren grounds that would host the largest amusement park in Latin America.

Amusement Park Antecedents to Interama in Argentina Allocating the space for this project proved to be relatively easy under claims of environmental improvement and would outdo previous attempts at developing amusement parks for the Argentine people. Proper national antecedents for the amusement park were few and far between and those that existed at the time attracted more locals than long-distance tourists. Two in particular, however, stand out for their significance to the nation and one of these highlights a repeated trend in Argentine administrations’ use of amusement for recognition and citizen appeasement. Italpark in Buenos Aires (on the site of the ex-Parque Japonés – Japanese Park)

Rockhold 58 and La República de los Niños (the Children’s Republic) are among the most well-known amusement parks in Argentina22, the former for its success and unfortunate end, and the latter for its ties to the populist governments of Juan Domingo Perón. Both, however, set the stage for the

Interama project carried out during the last dictatorship.

La República de los Niños (the Children’s Republic) represented a new venture for amusement parks in Argentina. Although not the first amusement park in Argentina, La

República de los Niños was a federally-funded venture conceived and inaugurated by Juan D

Peron and his administration in 1951 in the city of La Plata. Set on 53 hectares (131 acres) of land, the “Republic” became the first theme and educational amusement park on the American continent. The complex features 32 buildings that copy “adult” institutions, such as banks, museums and government offices at a scale accessible for children. As the first park of its kind, it also set the stage for amusement and theme parks as great as Disneyland23 (Marina).

The park itself is divided into three areas: urban, rural and recreation. The urban center pictured in Figure 34, contains the densest majority of these 32 buildings to create a bustling city center with shops, plazas and official institutions. In this city center, children learn about the many parts of democracy, economy and international cultures (at the doll museum). A refurbished train then takes visitors around the park to discover the “rural” parklands where visitors today enjoy the green space to meet for picnics, enjoy boat rides on the artificial lake or pet the animals at the small animal farm. Small-scale amusement rides remain in the recreation center to provide alternative thrills for visitors between these two areas (Marina).

All in all, the Children’s Republic has a varied list of uses and, for this reason, still

22 The Parque de la Costa (Coastal Park) is among the most successful amusement park in Buenos Aires, however, due to its inception in the 1990s, it will not be included in this analysis. 23 It is rumored that Walt Disney’s visit to La República de los Niños inspired, to some extent, the creation of his theme park empires.

Rockhold 59 remains popular destination within the area to this day. The intensive educational focus of the park demonstrates an early governmental interest in the leisure time of young people and even the adults accompanying that later is replicated to a certain degree by Cacciatore and the dictatorship. From the open space to the farms and the amusement parks, there is undoubtedly a connection to Cacciatore’s master plan for the megapark on the Almirante Brown lots.

Figure 34 - República de los Niños City Center

Buenos Aires’ Italpark, on the other hand, opened in 1960 as a private investment on land that also hosted Argentina’s first amusement park, Parque Japonés. Purely recreational, the park was conceived and financed by two Italian immigrants, brothers Adelino and Luis Zanon and quickly became a destination for Porteños and those living in surrounding cities (Italpark Buenos

Aires). La Plata resident Noemí Mikita fondly remembers both school and family trips to

Italpark in the latter half of the 1960s, when the park had just opened. Located on less than one hectare of land, the park duly named after its Italian developers hosted 40 different rides also imported from Italy (Coelho). Although these imported rides gave Italpark its fame and, arguably, place as Argentina’s most recognized amusement park, lack of maintenance also led to its downfall. Italpark was condemned to closure on the 22nd of November of 1990 due to a fatal

Rockhold 60 accident on the “Matter Horn” ride24. The park’s legacy was short-lived, but provided a smaller- scale antecedent to what Cacciatore dreamed Interama would become (“Condena por una muerte”).

Although Cacciatore’s goals for Interama were not as centered around education or political propaganda as those of Perón, nor were they as investment-centered as the Zanon brothers, both provided antecedents as either competition or inspiration for Cacciatore’s dreams.

Both Italpark and República de los Niños also shaped how Argentines in the Buenos Aires province learned how to enjoy their time and what to expect from neighborhood amenities This phenomenon of amusement of the masses can still be seen today in La República’s continued success as a method of early childhood education and, even as a weekend getaway or in

Italpark’s cross-city popularity during its time as a provincial amenity

The Plan With these antecedents in mind, Cacciatore’s unique, far-reaching plan for the Almirante

Brown complex was conceived in its entirety as early as 1977 and its goals were notably multifaceted. In essence, Almirante Brown would take the domestic goals of neighborhood public spaces, discussed in the previous chapter, to the next level. Along with “improving” and cleaning up an entire neighborhood, the general population of Buenos Aires could be also appeased and taught how to enjoy their time and, perhaps most importantly, the nation could be put on the map of international destinations. The original plan for this multi-use park far surpassed those of Italpark or La República de los Niños and was to include a wide variety of attractions for visitors, from hotels to racetracks, all to be located in the same general area,

24 “Matter Horn,” opened in May of 1983 had not been properly inspected nor maintained since its inception, a detail cited by the judge of the Italpark case, which established grounds to its condemnation to closure (Condena por una muerte).

Rockhold 61 pictured with all of its amenities in Figure 35. In fact, propaganda from 1980 states that the previously neglected area in southern Buenos Aires would include the following inconceivable number of attractions:

Almirante Brown Park, destined for active and passive uses: there will be football, tennis volleyball and basketball fields, swimming pools, covered and uncovered tracks, dressing rooms, lakes and an area with barbecues … a first-rate international hotel, just steps from the racetrack, zoo and an amusement park that will come to boast a 200 meter-tall tower, with a restaurant at 160 meters … a golf course and an urbanization plan that foresees the existence of a low-density residential zone where construction would not exceed six stories: the Neighborhood Park, that will be located around the sports field. Here, two schools and a supermarket that offers every service imaginable, from a pharmacy and food sales to modern boutiques (90)

Even in a state of continuously declining economy into late 1980, the goals remained ambitious and they echo many of the smaller-scale goals that were achieved by renovating the neighborhood parks and plazas discussed in the previous chapter. The all-encompassing park space provides both active and passive space in a controlled, designated manner and throughout the compound, zoning clearly establishes uses beyond the sports complex, from the deliberate placement of proposed housing projects, schools, golf courses and other attractions (Figure 35).

In this case, however, these meticulous goals are amplified and extend far beyond basic neighborhood improvements. With the scale of the project that included a hotel, a racetrack and a parque zoo-fitogeográfico25, this compound steps far beyond the basic improvement of land and city beautification. Even the sports complex was to become much more than a neighborhood amenity. Pools, racetracks and state-of-the-art exercise equipment would, no doubt, attract athletes from across the city. These many amenities, then, transformed the project into a destination rather than an amenity.

25 Term without proper translation, meaning a large, “geological park” comprised of a zoo and various gardens showcasing an international array of plants and wildlife.

Rockhold 62

Figure 35 - The proposed layout for the Almirante Brown Complex (1980) (Cacciatore)

The excitement for the ambitious project was also echoed in the media. Clarín newspaper, one of the largest in Argentina published an extensive informative article on the project on July 16th, 1978, a short time after construction plans were approved which reads:

The transfer of the current Zoological Garden of Palermo to a 300-hectare area located in the Almirante Brown Park has been definitely resolved. The project includes the idea of extending the City of Buenos Aires to the south, just as Domingo Faustino Sarmiento did in 1874 towards the north. The new garden will be [a] ‘Zoofitogeográfico’ park, although it could also correspond to the label, ‘Park of Living Nature.’ It will be a zoo, botanical and geological garden and possibly an aquarium—all in no less than a 130-hectare extension. The remaining 170 will be allocated to one of two amusement parks (Contreras).

This article makes it clear that public expectations had already risen as high as those of the government; the general population began to assume that the project would have far-reaching effects, greater than the new inclusion of a park in Zona Sur. The Almirante Brown project was seen by this author as a potential revolutionary change to the city, comparable in size to a national expansion project of the early Argentine president, Domingo Sarmiento. The gardens and nature reserves that would showcase over 17,000 examples of trees and the zoo that would feature 150 species of mammals and 250 different birds would not only become a destination, but would represent the expansion of a successful city, as the dictators had hoped (Plotkin).

Although this vision was never fully accomplished, the portions of it that were stand

Rockhold 63 testament to the various goals of the Proceso in Buenos Aires. The only two sectors of this plan that would come to (partial) completion were the sports complex, Parque Julio A. Roca (below) and the Interama amusement park (discussed in the following sections). Planning for the gardens and the zoo (which was expected to replace the central Palermo Zoo) reached such a point that the Chinese government promised the city a panda from a national ecological reserve, but neither of the two were completed nor begun due to time and financial restraints (Rodriguez).

Figure 36 - The Julio A. Roca Sports Complex (Cacciatore)

As can be seen in the map of the Julio A. Roca sports complex (Figure 36), the plan sought to replicate a multi-use Central Park-like area. Amenities for approved uses included:

1. Receptionist services 2. Administrative offices 3. Parking 4. A pedestrian bridge 5. Service desks 6. Barbecues 7. Football fields 8. Minifootbal fields 9. Boca courts 10. Volleyball courts 11. Tennis courts 12. Raquetball courts 13. Multi-use exercise equipment 14. Skating and cycling paths 15. Running tracks 16. Extended running tracks 17. Playground equipment 18. Areas for airplane model flying

Rockhold 64 19. Docks 20. Maintenance centers

There is very little room in this plan for alternative uses. In fact, is a highly-administrated area of land. There are multiple information and administrative offices throughout the park and many of the offered amenities do not offer multiple uses. For example, boca courts, running tracks and cycling paths cannot be confused with areas of passive leisure: picnic areas or general gathering spaces. Cacciatore’s design teams carefully thought out and allocated areas for activities they wanted to promote, such as sports, instead of culture, especially as these large spaces could have easily included exhibition space or outdoor stages. Deliberate planning of space, therefore, was not limited to small corners meant for local use, as was discussed in

Chapter 1. Here, the same planning strategies of designating a limited amount of uses to an area to create an orderly environment are once again employed, but with a larger range of influence and capacity to attract more than the neighborhood passerby.

The layout of the greater Almirante Brown area places the sports park to the south of

Interama and uses the amusement park as the centerpiece for all other attractions offered. For financial reasons, the government focused a greater amount of attention on the amusement park, as it had potential to become what Disneyland is to Anaheim, Los Angeles or even California as a whole. In fact, expectations were so high for the Interama Park that it was assumed with over

1,000 visitors a day; the amusement park would be able to finance the rest of the plan (Plotkin).

Its many attractions, however, while remaining a steady part of Cacciatore’s fantasy, presented a series of challenges for the government, construction crews and designers.

The Players Many national and international players quickly became a part of the planning and construction process for the Interama Amusement Park sector of the project. Specifications and

Rockhold 65 conditions for the creation of the park were approved by the municipality of Buenos Aires in

June of 1977, but the bidding process for interested developers was not conducted until

December 1978 and construction on the ambitious amusement park portion of the plan did not begin until late 1979, two years before the anticipated opening in 1981.

The bid was won by the newly formed group, Parques Interama Sociedad Anónima

(Interama SA). Parques Interama S.A. represented a “phantasmal entity” integrated of civilian members as well as a number of military officials, such as Alberto Gourdy Allende y Daniel

Beilinson, whose claims in the park would last over 30 years (Plotkin, Rodríguez). Although there were many suspicions that Interama SA was the only group to enter the competition, it has been confirmed that other companies did, in fact, participate, including another international entity from Spain (Rodriguez). This final decision, however, exemplifies the level to which the de facto government was involved in every aspect of the park’s creation.

Cacciatore spared no distinguished names nor talent with the rest of the appointments for the park. Richard Battaglia, a representative of Walt Disney World was commissioned with the design and served as the working consultant from his offices in California. A Swiss manufacturing group and sometimes brokerage firm, Intamin AG was commissioned with importing all rides and attractions who then commissioned Waagner Biró, an Austrian manufacturer, with the construction of many of the rides and, most notably, the space needle.

Leading geologist James Fowler was in charge of all work to be done on the terrain and geological aspects of the many gardens and construction, which began in 1978. The construction of the park was directed by engineer Omar N. Vázquez, a 38-year-old engineer who had worked extensively to rebuild the Andean town Las Cuevas, remodeled the Fine Arts Museum and had his offices in central Buenos Aires. Vázquez would quickly come to invest hundreds of hours to

Rockhold 66 the park and the space tower, an integral part of the “futuristic ideal” that never reached its full potential (Rodríguez, Contreras, Plotkin).

Design and Construction As the area chosen for the park is located close to the bank of the Riachuelo River and previously was home to the aforementioned city landfill, the process of preparing the land for the park was long and involved. The 100-hectare park currently sits on over one million cubic meters of infill that is over five meters deep, brought from various places throughout the province

(Franco, Rodriguez). A total of 60 rides and a 200-meter-tall, slender space needle in the center of the park would then sit on this foundation. Like the República de los Niños theme park,

Interama included different themed areas including, “Carnaval,” “Fantasy,” “Future,”

“Inernational,” and “Latino” that distance themselves from Buenos Aires’ urban reality with these purposely unrealistic themes (Contreras).

The many designers of the park were generally inspired by a range of international styles and technologies in order to create this escape from city life. The southeastern corner of the park which includes a reflecting pool and an amphitheater, Aconcagua is strikingly reminiscent of

Gaudi’s Park Güel in Barcelona. With its many organically-shaped, long benches, curved walls and colorful murals made of ceramic tile, it feels like a whimsical take on what could be a regular park bench (Figure 37). As can be seen in Figure 38, the constructed spectacle also contrasts with the inclusion of nature in this park, much like the Brutalist ornamentation of the neighborhood plazas of Chapter 1. Like the reflecting pool and Aconcagua, the tall, modern pace tower (discussed in further detail in the following section), clad with grey cement and designed with futuristic spires and geometric platforms that almost resemble UFOs, is surrounded by patches of grass to balance out its heavy materials. Instead of opting for man-made walls, the

Rockhold 67 park as a whole also uses nature to its advantage, placing lines of trees around its perimeter to create a barrier between the amusement park and Buenos Aires’ dense urban spaces. The Imax theater26, presented another option for escape and advanced, modern technology. It stood on the northern sector of the park and, as the first Imax theater in Argentina, it not only provided a more immersive experience for visitors, it also became a revolutionary marker for the forward-looking progress the city had made (Rodríguez).

Figure 37 - The Aconcagua Sector of the park

Park enthusiast Hernán Rodríguez pointed out in a personal interview that international influence was not limited to stylistic inspiration nor a sense of competition with the rest of the world; almost every piece of hardware was imported from Europe by Itamin SA who still feature the Space Tower as their tallest Observation tower at 182 meters (600 feet) (“Our History”).

Administratively, this large-scale importation scheme was only possible due to the dictatorship’s authoritarian power structures. Agreements were made between Intamin and the state-run

Buenos Aires customs office to waive all import taxes for the incoming games and parts for the park. However, soon after the inauguration of the park, it was discovered that these fees were not, in fact, waived in their entirety and the government was left with millions unexpected debt

(Rodriguez).

26 The first in Argentina and later the victim of a copyright scandal and lawsuit with Imax for allowing unauthorized persons to inspect the projector.

Rockhold 68 With the construction half completed, the amusement park was opened to the public in

December 1982, but space tower remained unopened until after the fall of the dictatorship in

1985. At the time of its initial opening, Interama Amusement Park boasted all five of its pre- established themed areas and a 14,000-car parking lot (Contreras). With the re-establishment of democracy in the nation, the park became Parque de la Ciudad (The Park of the City) in 1984 and was re-inaugurated in 1985 (Contreras).

Figure 38 - Map of Interama (Urgente 24)

The Space Tower and its Significance Looming tall over what is now the Parque de la Ciudad, the lonely space tower remains the only functioning testament to the Interama dream. Questions remain as to why this piece of architecture became the designer’s focus even as it became obvious, that the complete vision of the Almirante Brown complex would never become a complete reality. Engineer Omar Vázquez states that, “I knew that if I didn’t erect the tower fast [enough], the whole project would fall to pieces… the tower guaranteed that, at the very least, there would be a park” (Plotkin). The Torre

Espacial, then, became a central piece to achieving even partial recognition for the work behind designing the park.

In his telling of the history of Argentine skyscrapers, historian Leonel Contreras points

Rockhold 69 out that the inclusion of such a large needle-like structure in the Almirante Brown complex plan was not out of the ordinary for the time. Recent international endeavors in needle towers included the 1967 “Ostankino Tower” in Mosow, Russia and the 1976 Canadian National

Railway in Toronto, Canada (constructed to improve television signals and included a “space deck” at 460 meters) (Contreras). Although the tower would not reach as tall heights as the

Canadian or Russian predecessors, erecting a futuristic structure so popular at the time would help re-establish Argentina’s architecturally competitive status in the world. On such marshy land, however tower centerpiece became an engineering complexity.

Detailed investigations conducted Hernan Rodriguez, founding member of Organización por la Conservación del Parque de la Ciudad (Organization for the Conservation of Parque de la

Ciudad) state that the tower was, at the time, the “tallest lookout tower delivered by Waagner

Biró GMBH,” the Austrian metalworking company responsible for rebuilding Vienna after the

Second World War (Rodriguez). Waagner Biró’s advertisement page, pictured below, highlights their “scope of deliveries” with a featured photo of the Torre Espacial in the corner. The company claims to specialize in “observation towers of all types and sizes…spiral towers with moving passenger cabins, moving leisure equipment, mobile halls and roof systems [and] transport systems” as examples of “Exciting Leisure Amusement.”

Construction on the tower itself began in 1980 and took almost one year to complete while laying the foundation alone took approximately six months. The pieces, shipped by

Intamin SA and created by Waagner-Biró and arrived in 300 different containers. With 4,000 construction workers dedicating their time to the process, perforations for the 30 foundational pilotes extended 25 meters into the ground—the equivalent of 30 ten story buildings (Plotkin).

Special kinds of concrete were also brought in to fill these deep perforations, but the foundation

Rockhold 70 alone was not enough to anchor the 600-foot structure. Above 120 meters, the tower ceases to be a self-supporting structure, therefore, six steel tension cables which support up to 100 tons of weight help to anchor the tower and are connected to foundation piles that also extend 25 meters into the ground (Plotkin). With such structural preparation, Space Tower became an “impressive structure” reaching over 656 feet in height, with three supporting platforms and four elevators designed especially for Interama by the German elevator manufacturer, Haushahn Gruppe

(Rodríguez, Plotkin).

Figure 39 – The space tower today (de Bona)

Due to this carefully calculated feat of engineering, the tower’s three “glazed platforms” allow for a variety of potential uses, such as “adequate space for observation terraces and restaurants, bars, gaming rooms, dance halls, music rooms, show rooms, etc.” (Rodríguez). This rhetoric falls well into line with Cacciatore’s dreams and lofty goals for the park and the city as a whole. Although each source lists a different use, it is most likely that the lowest and the middle platform, at 92 feet and 118 feet in diameter respectively, would have featured rotating restaurants for its visitors, much like the Space Needle in Seattle or the concept of the Parisian

Eiffel Tower. Waagner Biró’s renderings in Figure 41 show the extended dimensions of each

Rockhold 71 level and even what the lower level would look like as a restaurant. The third and highest platform, at 590 feet in height and 65 feet in diameter holds the major attraction: an observation deck that boasts the best views in the city. Today, the tower opens on holidays and weekends and the municipality still embraces the observation deck as the highest point in Buenos Aires, decorating the windows with markers of city landmarks in Figures 42 and 43. Although neither restaurants nor dance halls were ever installed, the three platforms still open on special occasions such as the fourth iteration of Open House Buenos Aires, in December of 2016 (Rodríguez).

Figures 40 and 41 - Waagner-Biró Brochures for the construction of the Space Tower (c. 1980) (Rodríguez)

Rockhold 72

Figures 42 and 43 - Views from the observation decks of the Torre Espacial

The tower became such an instrumental part of completing the dream that engineer Omar

N. Vázquez and his workers dedicated an immeasurable amount of time to the construction of the tower. At one point in its construction, Vázquez constructed his own home on the property to eliminate the commute (Rodríguez). All in all, the tower, inspired by international models and trends as is evident in Waagner-Biró’s pamphlet (Figure 40) demonstrates, in size and scale, how lofty the goals of the Buenos Aires de facto municipality had become. Estimates for the tower’s total cost stand at just over 10 million dollars and even Waagner-Biró representatives are cited to have been surprised by the dedication and tenacity of the project and its devoted engineer.

Today, the tower has been designated as a historical heritage site for the city, protecting it from potential destruction (a threat faced by the rest of the park) (Rodríguez).

Highways: Modernizing and Connecting a Fractured City Cacciatore’s highway system, lauded at the time for its span and scale, is comparable to the Interama project in scope, location and eventual failure, and it also helps to assess the goals of the amusement park and the modernization of the nation as a whole. In a campaign to

“connect” Buenos Aires by forcibly superimposing wide freeways over the city’s urban fabric,

Rockhold 73 the project proposed to construct seven new inter-city freeways. The Plan de Autopistas Urbanas

(Urban Freeway Plan) was first introduced in this manifestation as a section of the 1977 Urban

Planning Code. The 1977 plan for Buenos Aires proposed a variety of changes to the city of

Buenos Aires, especially regarding the environment and zoning. The problems that the Urban

Planning code attempted to address (listed below according to Cacciatore’s official recounting) revolved around “cleaning” and modernizing the city by deindustrialization, placing new limits on large-scale construction and presenting new environmental initiatives.

Metropolitan “Problems” the Urban Planning Code aimed to correct:

1. Excessively dense zones with a high volume of structures and over-saturation of the available physical, urban space 2. The over-stimulation of construction on small lots that result in unnecessary congestion 3. Discouragement of construction on large lots with special needs 4. The freezing of construction in the southern zone of the city by municipal restrictions, conceived with the intent of being a transitory solution to a proposed “urban renovation plan” that was never completed. 5. Confusing zoning that is superimposed by, in many cases, land uses that are incompatible with each other across the entire area of the city 6. Marked urban disequilibrium between the north and southern neighborhoods of the city 7. Inorganic distribution of urban population settlement; with the densest settlements are concentrated in a small portion of the available land while other areas boast an incredibly low density 8. Lack of vehicular parking, especially in areas with high concentrations of activities and residences 9. Serious problems of vehicular transit, especially regarding high mortality rates 10. Progressive deterioration of the environmental conditions in the city, which affects the health and wellbeing of the population (139-140)

As early as the 1960s, Buenos Aires began to see policies promoting automobile use. The

Plan Director de la Ciudad de Buenos Aires (The Directorial Plan of the City of Buenos Aires), spearheaded by Argentina’s fourth dictator, Juan Carlos Onganía (1966-1970) and the later 1973

Urban Planning Code both outlined plans to construct freeway systems that would better connect

Rockhold 74 the city (Liernur, AU3). These plans, however, limited the span of the proposed projects to only three freeways (Canese). To Videla’s dictatorship and Cacciatore’s municipality, however, three freeways would not suffice for such a populous city (Canese). Much like Robert Moses, the force behind the tunnels and roadways of 1950s New York, Cacciatore understood the future of the automobile and its growing popularity among middle-class Argentines. Additionally, scholars such as Architect Beatriz Loria, whose work is highlighted in the documentary AU3: Central

Highway that Onganía, point out that the dictatorial leaders were interested in more than connecting the city and providing for the middle class; they were “autopisteros”—“highway men” who, above all, valued “fast escapes and territorial control” (AU3). Figure 41 illustrates how much territory these highways would have covered, connecting middle-class car owners to almost all corners of the city proper.

Oscar Ozlak devotes an entire chapter of his investigations in Merecer la Ciudad

(Deserving the City) to this particular issue. He states that Cacciatore’s administration benefitted the “automobile, as a priority and privileged means of urban transportation” (207). This large- scale project was clearly “in favor of the automobile owners and to the direct detriment of the neighbors of the affected areas.” The citizens who lost their homes were not duly compensated and, further, the project was “discriminatory in respect to those who did not own cars, seeing as, generally, passenger-based mass transit is not permitted to circulate on the urban highway”

(Ozlak 207). In the case of public space, the situation resulted to be quite similar. Those who had the purchasing power to own or rent properties within reach (walking distance) of the neighborhood park could benefit from its presence. As a result of the new highway system, the same population of middle-class citizens with cars also could take advantage of recreation complexes that were further away from their homes and out of reach of mass urban transit.

Rockhold 75

Almirante Brown Park (not to scale)

Figure 44 - Map of the proposed routes for the seven new highways (Cacciatore)

With the political and middle-class benefits of connecting the capital via expansive roadways came a number of “improvements” that Cacciatore does not hesitate to point out in his autobiography of professional projects. Caccitaore claims that qualitative studies first determined the necessity for this project and that, as a result, his administration was able to produce highway systems that took maximum advantage of urban area and “limited community inconvenience.”

Listed benefits of this plan included: reducing the amount of vehicular traffic accidents, diminishing environmental contamination, saved time for the user and for the transportation of goods and overall savings in operating costs of vehicles which, to Cacciatore, only “confirmed the necessity of the services granted by the freeway project” (166).

Although these highways could be considered a time-saving mechanism for those privileged enough to use them, it can also be assumed that more independent drivers (as the plan hoped to encourage) would instead increase probabilities of accidents and environmental contamination through air pollution. This strategy of first endowing the city with green space to answer the question of environmental concern and later, creating cement-heavy highway systems, furthermore, puts in question the integrity of these claims. Environmental concerns

Rockhold 76 were likely secondary to Cacciatore and his administration who, like Robert Moses, sought monumentality, and prioritized the prosperity of middle and upper-class citizens.

Construction and preparations for highways that never manifested themselves due to financial constraints also produced social impacts that the administration chose to ignore.

Statistically contested by Cacciatore, it has been confirmed that over 150,000 people were displaced from their homes to make way for the highway system and many were not properly compensated (Canese). Although Cacciatore attempts to confirm that “the influential zones were analyzed and evaluated to determine the path within the urban fabric that would demand the least amount of expropriations,” the demolition necessary to build such large highways (166) The documentary AU3 tells the story of multiple working-class families who watched the demolition of their homes days after being ordered to move out and find “alternate solutions.” According to the mayor’s accounts, “zones of influence were evaluated with goals of determining an up-to- date estimations of transportation flows into the capital,” however, similar occurrences as those that led to Plaza Monseñor de Andrea appears within this project (Cacciatore 166). Secretary of

Public Works, Guillermo Laura mentions matter-of-factly in his book La Ciudad Arterial (The

Arterial City) that “expropriation is inevitable” in dense urban centers (where transportation is an utmost necessity) (73). Individual, working class and even low-middle class family homes, although not as precarious as villas were compromised in the name of national improvement and modernity.

Although only two freeways were inaugurated, the highways were part of a larger plan to

“re-urbanize” the southern zone of Buenos Aires that, according to Laura, was not completed before due to legal limits on demolishing the “outdated” structures in the area (Laura 74). The development of Almirante Brown Complex and the aforementioned removal of industry (and the

Rockhold 77 associated working-class, blue-collar jobs) would go hand-in-hand with this massive construction of massive highway systems in efforts to improve and move the city towards the modern future the dictators wanted to see (Cacciatore 169, Laura 74). The urban effects of the

Freeway Plan were more widely felt, but, in the end, benefitted the same middle-class demographic and spoke to the same goal of modernizing the nation. As a note of personal achievement, in his biography, Cacciatore states that “in [Argentina] direct antecedents did not exist for a similar system,” and, much like Interama and Almirante Brown, he does not fail to point to the revolutionary aspects of the project for the nation (167).

Interama and the Middle Class Many reasons indicate that the investments in Interama and the Almirante Brown complex as a whole were made to benefit a wealthier middle class as opposed to the working class of the city. The highway system, the amount of investment in the area and the government’s past policies and interactions with the more marginalized communities of the city

(such as the Villa residents) indicate that this project was not meant to benefit the working class of Zona Sur but an upper-middle class and wealthy international audience who had means of arriving to the park. This park also played an important role in the legitimization of the regime to the upper-middle class and international audience as a more forward step than the small-scale investment in creating and renovating neighborhood parks and plazas, as discussed in the previous chapter.

Interama Park, now Parque de la Ciudad (the “Park of the City”) is located between

Avenues Cruz, Roca, Escalada and Carra, but the Campora highway, finished 10 years ago flanks one side (Rodriguez). The Interama amusement park fit well within the boundaries of the

1977 highway plan (shown in Figure 44) and, to this day, the location of the park benefits the

Rockhold 78 middle-class traveler more than those in the working class who rely on public transit. The metropolitan subway system does not reach as far as Villa Soldati and a limited number of bus routes reach as far south. Those that do require crossing wide streets to reach the park and very few recommend taking these busses at night.

Like the parks and plazas examined in Chapter 1, Interama/Parque de la Ciudad may have been created with the potential for “everyone to enjoy,” but the locations differentiate the two projects (Summa 119). Interama, like the highway system, was located in less affluent southern neighborhoods27 and was not destined to benefit the populations it was surrounded by.

Similarly, the surrounding highways were to benefit those with enough financial stability to purchase and maintain cars. Nestled between two of these highways, Interama was created for those who could access entry fees and use these cars to cross the wide roads and distances it would take to get there. The national government invested such large sums of money in Interama for it to become a tourist destination, not the neighborhood getaway which its lack of success later led it to become. Hernán Rodriguez himself believes that Cacciatore did not wish to improve Villa Soldati or Villa Lugano. Rather, he hoped to radically transform these impoverished, neglected southern neighborhoods.

Although investments in neighborhood parks and plazas were made in areas of critical importance to the regime (such as politically potent areas and those that housed the middle classes), the case of Interama presents an attempt at a new kind of political investment: taking advantage of a large, underutilized plot of land in order to create something revolutionary and set off a series of changes that would transform southern Buenos Aires into a tourist hub and, at the

27 The southern sector of Buenos Aires, off of the Riachuelo canal has historically been home to the working-class population, while the northern neighborhoods, such as San Isidro and Belgrano are home to those with higher socioeconomic standing.

Rockhold 79 same time, a desirable area for wealthy residents. As we can see in the example of the highway projects and extended villa eradications, the government had no qualms about erasing neighborhoods from the map to create a blank slate, a move that could possibly hint at the potential relocation of those living in the surrounding neighborhoods of Villa Lugano and Villa

Soldati. Interama could have, undoubtedly, transformed “this poor margin of the city in a paradise of trees, reflecting pools and electromechanic rides imported from Europe” (Plotkin).

The park also presented its visitors with a unique sense of isolation from the bustling city, a factor that simultaneously became its eventual downfall. Like many at the time, Cacciatore arguably had a distaste for dense Argentine urban centers and the uncleanly habits of the working-class, making the Interama project the essential summation of his many philosophies.

To Hernán Rodriguez, the founder of a popular movement to save Parque Interama, the allure of such a park is its “isolation from the rest of the city” and to journalist Pablo Plotkin, an amusement park is an “escape zone, a fantasy isolated from the city.”

The designers of the space successfully created a world apart from the bustling metropolis to such an extent that accessing the park is virtually impossible to access without a car. It is almost impossible to reach by subway or by bus and is almost dangerous to do so by such methods, especially at night. Spectators and users of the park, like Rodriguez even say that the “Jumbo” supermarket constructed next to the park had a greater impact on the neighborhood than the park itself. The scope and span of this project far outweighed the preparations and the economic backing that was available to complete it. Today, therefore, the city is left with the reminders of an uncompleted dream that is slowly falling apart and, due to the incomplete highway system, the park has devolved back to the neighborhood. The visitors are largely those who live in the area and few other inhabitants of the city know of its existence.

Rockhold 80 Interama Today The city of Buenos Aires continues to grapple with the issue of how to utilize and take advantage of the vast grounds of the ex-Interama Park now its disposal. Many forget that Parque de la Ciudad remained a functioning entity well through the 1980s and 1990s until its final closure as a proper amusement park in 2008 (Plotkin). Today, the tower has been rehabilitated and the park grounds are open as a “semipublic” park that charges visitors a “symbolic entry fee” of 10 pesos (less than one US Dollar) (Plotkin). Unfortunately, the rides have slowly begun to come down in cases when they could be easily repaired by skilled technicians. None of the rides are functioning (Figure 45 portrays the abandoned Alpine Blitz roller coaster) and many are home to large amounts of vegetation, a haunting metaphor of the gardens Cacciatore dreamed of.

At the present, large concrete foundations are all that is left of many of the rides, such as the one in Figure 46.

Figure 45 - Alpine Blitz, a $5 million roller coaster out of commission since 1985 (de Bona)

Rockhold 81

Figure 46 - The remaining concrete foundation of a disassembled ride

On the northern side of the park, a temporary rock venue has seen to the destruction of a number of salvagable attractions in the past few years including the Imax theater, Calypso and

Enterprise. “Ciudad del Rock” (City of Rock) has brought a larger audience to the park in the past three years of its existence, but is slated to come down in the coming months to make way for the 2018 Youth Olympics (Rodríguez). The municipality’s current goals for the area are hauntingly similar to those of the dictatorship. The underutilized parklands would form part of the Plan Maestro for the Eighth Commune of Buenos Aires, which would convert these neighborhoods into the “Athletic District” (Plotkin). Although arguably the Youth Olympics will not receive the same amount of press as the 1978 World Cups, the legacy of the spectacle within the realm of recreation and sport lives on.

Conclusions Digamos que un parque de diversiones constituye una representación sintética, una metáfora del mundo de la ciudad…En Interama, se huele una especie de Postmetrópolis, si bien representada a la manera de Las Vegas, y lejana del expresionismo de Fritz Lang…En el movimiento cíclico de los juegos transcurre la fantasía moderna del desperfecto ténico y la aniquilación

Let’s say that an amusement park constitutes a synthetic representation, a metaphor of the world of the city…In Interama, you can smell a special type of ‘Postmetropolis,’ represented in the same way as Las Vegas, and far from the

Rockhold 82 expressionism of Fritz Lang…In the cyclical movement of the rides, the modern fantasy of that which is imperfect and bordering on annihilation is played out -Mario Sabugo, Clarín, 1983 (Plotkin)

The three major projects discussed in this chapter that involved Cacciatore’s hand of bringing “progress” to Buenos Aires reveal how the dictatorship saw the nation—a sad country in need of a stern hand to correct distasteful behavior—and how they chose to correct these situations through the “Progreso de Reorganización Nacional,” which involved much more than urban policy. However, analyzing these cases in the urban sphere can lead us to understand the subconscious methods the government hoped to employ alongside blatant calls for international attention and recognition.

Like the simple reconstruction of neighborhood parks to add aesthetically appealing

“green space” to the city, the Interama Amusement park constituted a way for the government to achieve a certain “passivity of the masses” that critical theorists Theodor Adorno and Max

Horkheimer outline in their work, Dialectic of Enlightenment (170). The middle classes that these changes ultimately benefitted were presented with “standardized” forms of culture that had already been successfully attempted in other international amusement parks (Adorno 208). In order to placate the masses, Cacciatore took advantage of these international trends of amusement, as with the worldwide fixation with the many Disney theme parks, that is easily reproduced with the correct thematical formula of whimsy, spectacle and amusement (rides and roller coasters). With the proper conditions, in this case, the authority to make economic and planning decisions without political limits normally in place under a democratic government,

Cacciatore could easily attempt to produce this vision.

In Cacciatore’s propaganda booklet, under the header “Personas, no individuos”

(“People, not individuals”) the mayor asks for citizens to slow down the pace of their hectic, urban daily lives so that “each person’s actions cease to be so individualistic, in order for the

Rockhold 83 concept of the community to develop its true meaning” (14). In the chapter, Enlightenment as

Mass Deception Adorno and Horkeimer take these same concepts and conclude that “individuals are tolerated [in society] only as far as their wholehearted identity with the universal is beyond question” (124). Cacciatore’s “true meaning” of community involved complacent citizens who enjoy the same activities: “passive” enjoyment of nature, organized sport, mass recreation and standardized amusement. Adorno and Horkeimer argue that this is possible, “only because individuals are none but mere intersections of universal tendencies is it possible to reabsorb them smoothly into the universal” (125). Although this “reabsorption,” in the end, was not successful for Cacciatore and the designers of his many parks, namely, Interama, it has been successfully reproduced in amusement parks around the world, like the Disney giant we see across global capitals today.

The amusement park, therefore, constitute a “synthetic representation” of the city in two respects. The creation of such a reproducible facet of popular culture represents the attempt to create the complacent, unified masses of society that would do away with the individual. On the other hand, however, the unsuccessful park became synonymous with both the massive government spending and these inconceivable goals of worldwide recognition, pristine cities and middle and upper-class dominance and approval through submission. The “modern fantasy” of mass culture reflected in the failed park is a phantasmal reminder of a fruitless search for legitimacy, fame and modernity that was born in ruin.

Figure 47 – the Skydiver ride, now out of commission (De Bona)

Rockhold 84 Conclusion The size and scope of the urban projects taken on by the Proceso de Reorganización

Nacional, like the human rights violations committed during the seven years of the “Dirty War,” were only possible due to the violent, authoritarian nature of the Proceso. This violence heavily contrasted with their vision of orderly, urban beauty they attempted to create. Further, each step in this process played a vital part in the attempt to create this new “reorganized” nation.

However, the massive spending habits and corrupt tendencies of the de facto government that these lofty goals would have required eventually led to its downfall.

The dictatorship fell shortly after declaring war on the British Empire over a land dispute regarding the Malvinas/Falkland Islands, just off of Argentina’s Atlantic Coast. The futile war attempted to restore a sense of national pride in Argentines. However, it only lasted three months, from its declaration on April 2nd of 1982 until the surrender of the Argentine troops

July 14th of the same year. Over 600 lives of young, untrained soldiers from poor areas in provincial Argentina were lost and, as this tragedy unfolded, what was left of the junta’s reputation was left in shatters (La Dictadura).

Whether the allowances of citizenship were repressed through direct, physical means

(disappearances and tactics of fear) or limited indirectly through selective urban planning, the dictators were clear in the changes they wanted to see in the nation. Both domestic neighborhood alterations and far-reaching, large-scale projects demonstrate a clear use of authoritarian power to modernize and reshape the nation. By altering public space, the dictatorship could show off its progress, and provide a haven for deserving citizens while masking the violent undertones of the many urban planning projects it chose to take on.

Many contradictions arise from these plans, especially through this sense of authoritarian modernism. The larger goal of national reorganization through this forceful implementation of

Rockhold 85 modernism saw parks and plazas being renovated in order to mold the redeemable citizens into proper members of a conservative society. Primarily, citizens were allowed to have spaces for recreation, but recreation was to be heavily organized and implemented within the rules of the

Proceso. Set times for these activities were in place and physical guidelines for designated areas were to be strictly followed. Moreover, in this “beautified” society citizens were to have their public space, but not to be directly involved in politics. For, although the dictatorship needed the complacent masses, they did not want political masses. The urban design of supposed public space reflected this. In Plaza de Mayo, a public plaza charged with political energy, the layout was transformed to enforce a controllable, open plan that also included natural and sculptural ornamentation to “beautify” the area. Likewise, Plaza Houssay enforced the need for higher education, but was selective in doing so, as it was placed adjacent to an institution of exact science while other disciplines were heavily repressed by the federal government.

The municipal government also saw opportunities within these neighborhood amenities to further other contradictory goals. Although the parks were for “all citizens,” as the Department of Sports and Recreation said in 1979, many new public spaces replaced unwanted, dirty spaces and citizens with improved, modern spaces for the middle-class citizens to enjoy. This represents a sinister combination of violence and the creation and implementation of beauty to counteract it.

All of these spaces also allowed for the “building [of] a stronger citizenry” through the different activities they allowed for (Cranz 213). Ironically, however, “stronger citizenry” was only built figuratively, through the re-construction of civic pride. The spaces that were constructed within these seven years did not allow for a citizenry that spoke out against the government nor did it allow for truly public use. They did, however, teach porteños and others how to be a proper citizen through use of free time, the proper activities and how to present

Rockhold 86 oneself in public. A sense of common citizenry was further strengthened by creating civic pride through the transformation of public spaces into amenities that city residents could be proud of.

The Almirante Brown complex filled this basic need of citizenry as the other parks did, but took city improvement to a new level--never imagined by other, allegedly “inefficient” governments (Videla). The complex would have shown off the Proceso’s progress, while providing a haven for the citizens. Here, yet again, we see marked contradictions. This progress was for all to see, but not for all to enjoy. The park’s distant location, only accessible by automobile, was ideal for the middle-class owner or renter of a car or the tourist who could travel for such a luxury.

This analysis leads to complex questions regarding the relationship these dictators and their chosen designers had with the style they employed. There exists a potential contradiction between the dictatorship’s nationalistic, conservative goals and the modernist styles they used to achieve them. “Modernism” and the modernist style have been tied to the pretexts of creating a universal architecture that could be implemented to benefit the populations of Egypt, France or even Brazil. This dictatorship, however, utilized “modernism” to portray progress and instill national pride in its people, while making intentional decisions that not all citizens were “equal” or deserved the same treatment. Further research and analysis could complement what was discovered in this thesis to reveal the dictatorship’s manipulation of style and the motives behind such decisions.

By analyzing both small and large-scale projects conducted by the Proceso de

Reorganización Nacional, it becomes evident how involved the dictatorship was in attempting to mold each citizen’s daily life and manipulate its own public presence. In only seven years, the dictatorship attempted to manipulate as many institutions as it could--from hospital service, to

Rockhold 87 education, transportation and public space. The analysis of public space is only a section of an urban process that was part of a greater movement, but has much to say about the clean, green and selective society that the leaders wanted to see. The degree to which the urban fabric was tampered with demonstrates how intent the leaders were in achieving this goal and making a large-scale impact, no matter the means necessary to achieve a predetermined, homogenous society.

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Leonforte, Alberto. "Argentina's Architectural Heritage and Preservation." Personal interview. 14 Aug. 2016. Mele, Jorge. "Modern and Post-Modern Interventions in the Urban Landscape of Buenos Aires." Personal interview. 10 Aug. 2016. Mikita, Noemi. "Personal Experiences During the Last Argentine Dictatorship." Personal interview. 5 Aug. 2016. Oleksow, Liliana. "Architectural History of Argentina: Indigenous, Colonial and Post-Independence." Personal interview. 14 Aug. 2016. Rodríguez, Hernán. "Parque Interama: Past and Present." Telephone interview. 22 Feb. 2017.

Rockhold 89

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