REPORTER’S NOTEBOOK : Panama Shifts Anger to Earlier Icon--Torrijos

With Manuel A. Noriega out of sight in a Miami jail, Panama’s government and some of its supporters tentatively are starting to tear at the mantle of supposed greatness wrapped around another national icon--Gen. Omar Torrijos.

The initial moves don’t seem like much--Torrijos’ portrait was torn from the National Assembly walls, a mysterious fire destroyed one of his homes and the government is considering taking the late strongman’s name from the international airport and a large park on the outskirts of Panama City.

But considering that Torrijos was built up as the modern Panamanian equal to George Washington and Simon Bolivar and is still venerated by many of the nation’s poor and alienated, any denigration of the idol is considered risky, at best.

A flamboyant and crafty National Guard officer, Torrijos ran Panama from 1968 to 1981 without voter endorsement from the barely concealed backstage of the military barracks. His rule came to an end when his plane crashed into a rain-obscured mountainside.

During his rule, he curried American favor by providing intelligence information, supporting U.S. hemispheric policies and doing favors for Washington politicians. Torrijos, for instance, gave shelter to the Shah of Iran at the personal request of President Jimmy Carter.

In turn, Torrijos obtained a U.S. agreement to cede to Panama ownership and, ultimately, control of the Panama Canal, thus providing the military strongman with the claim that he brought the country true independence.

The Panama Canal Treaty and its companion pact, the Treaty Concerning the Permanent Neutrality and Operation of the Panama Canal, plus a carefully cultivated personality cult turned Torrijos into a national hero.

But this self-created portrait of a charismatic hero, whose dashing poses in campaign hat, cavalry boots and swagger stick was admired by all, belied a ruthless and often crushing disregard of democratic principles and forms.

His power came at the expense of political independence for opponents, who sometimes went to jail or into exile.

Now, with the Panama Defense Forces--as the National Guard was renamed in 1983--pulverized and American troops controlling the streets, the people repressed by both Noriega and Torrijos are beginning to get even.

Leading the anti-Torrijos movement are the Eisenmann and Arias families, both owners of newspapers either closed or taken over by Torrijos. The Eisenmanns’ La Prensa resumes publication today, while the Arias family, whose papers were taken over in 1968, reopened El Panama America last week.

“Of course we’re going to wipe out the Torrijos cult,” said Harmodio Arias Jr., grandson of the paper’s founder. “He was nearly as bad as Noriega and he tried to destroy us.”

Some things never change in Panama, even when confronted by something as powerful as the U.S. invasion. Even though the new government of President Guillermo Endara has been in office less than a month and has huge public support, political intrigue to take away its power has already begun.

Fernando Manfredo, acting administrator of the Panama Canal and a longtime if dormant member of Noriega’s Democratic Revolutionary Party (PRD), says he plans to take over the party when he is removed from the Canal Commission in the next few weeks.

He believes that the Endara government will prove so incompetent that by the time its five-year term is up, the public will either defeat it at the polls or demand the military take power.

Even though Noriega has been thoroughly discredited and his most loyal supporters now sport Endara T-shirts, signs of the former regime remain.

Standing 20 feet tall on Via Espana, one of Panama City’s busiest streets, is a huge poster unblemished by graffiti pronouncing “Carlos Duque, President.” Duque was Noriega’s handpicked presidential candidate in last May’s elections and was trounced so embarrassingly that the dictator annulled the results. He is currently being sought by the U.S. military.

Another prominent sign sits proudly at the entrance to the Bridge of the Americas, which spans the Panama Canal. “Welcome to Him Who Brings Peace,” it says. It is signed by the Panama Defense Forces, Noriega’s now-crushed army.

A favorite gathering place for Panamanians looking for a bargain is an area called Cabo Verde, the site of a large public housing development and the center of an informal market selling goods that were looted in the civil violence that followed the U.S. invasion.

A recent tour of the ramshackle stands where the items are sold uncovered some bargains: a complete scuba diving outfit including oxygen tanks for $40; a new computer complete with monitor and keyboard for $100, and a variety of watches for $10 each.

The Marriott Hotel, long the favorite of journalists because of its direct-dial international telephone system, its casino and a swimming pool, has reopened after 15 days of troop occupation.

Except for a few bullet-shattered windows that haven’t been replaced yet or the occasional piece of shrapnel still lying around, everything seems back to normal. That is if normal is having a 30-caliber machine gun set up facing the main entry, combat-clad soldiers walking through the lobby and armored cars sitting in the parking lot.

Almost universally here, American troops are extraordinarily popular. People still cheer them in the streets. Not even the horrid traffic jams resulting from U.S. military roadblocks has lessened their popularity.

Then there were the U.S. soldiers stationed at a barricade near the Vatican embassy while Noriega was holed up there. They were heard to sing a parody of Woody Guthrie’s old song “This Land Is Your Land.”

“This land is my land, that land is my land, there’s no land here that isn’t my land.”