I had a letter of introduction from Dr. Manuel de Iriondo, president of the Bank of the Argentine Nation and one of the most prominent men in the republic, to the manager of the Salta branch, Señor Francisco Pereyra. I have never met a finer gentleman that Señor Pereyra. Not only did he wine and dine me at his own residence, but he went at great length to entertain me, introduce me to his friends, to the mayor of the city, to the governor of the province, took me out for automobile rides, and when I left Salta loaded me with literature, both statistical and historical of the province and city. Señor Pereyra made me a present of a hardwood cane, the tree from which it is made being indigenous to the Province of Salta, and named San Antonio. Mariano Posse is the name of Pereyra's eighteen-year-old brother-in-law who is going to Buenos Aires in a year to study medicine. I tried to persuade the young man to come to the United States to take a course in one of our universities, which I think will eventually materialize. At the time of this writing, Señor Pereyra has left Salta and is manager of the Bank of the Argentine Nation at Catamarca, the capital of the Andean province of the same name. He had recently, shortly before leaving Salta, the misfortune to lose by death, his wife, an estimable lady. I met Dr. Waldino Riarte, a friend of Señor Pereyra's. Both men were originally from Tucumán. Dr. Riarte is one of the wealthiest and highest standing men in the province, to which position he rose through his own efforts. One of the Salteno's with whom I became acquainted was Dr. Sola, a graduate of the Ohio State University, class of 1904. He has not been in the United States since he graduated. He was sent there to study, by the Argentine Government, and liked it so well that he wants to go back to the United States. He was anxious to hear the results of the collegiate football games for the past few years, as he played on the 'varsity while attending Ohio State.
"Chopp" (pronounced schop) is a coined word supposed to be the Spanish translation of the German word schoppen. Its nearest English equivalent is our coined word "schuper." Under the arcades of the old Cabildo, a German has established a saloon which he has named "El Bueno Chopp," meaning "The Good Schuper." A native seeing the volume of business which came to the thrifty German, thinking that it all came from the name he gave his place, hung out a sign styling his liquid refreshment emporium, "El Mejor Chopp," which means "The Best Schuper." It happens that in this latter resort, it is impossible to get draught beer in schupers, as the proprietor deals only in bottled goods. He does a poor business compared to that of the German.
In the Bueno Chopp saloon where I would occasionally go for a libation, I met a Dantziger named Holzmann. He inquired of me the names of the North American magazines most widely read by the higher classes of women, whereupon I told him the Ladies' Home Journal, Harper's Bazaar, and others, giving him their addresses. He later confided to me that the reason for his asking was that he wished through their columns to make an announcement that he intended to get married and he wanted a North American woman for his wife. He said he had taken a passion for women of that nationality, and would accept no others. This passion, I found, had developed from his having become enamored of the photograph of one of our well-known society queens that is frequently flaunted before our eyes in the newspaper columns of the Sunday supplements. Holzmann told me that when he resided in East Africa, he occasionally gave his former wife, when she was unruly, a beating with a hippopotamus hide whip; so I see what sort of fate is in store for his American bride.
Salta years ago had a brewery owned by a man named Glueck. Through mismanagement it failed. The city has 120 automobiles which speaks well for a town of its size and isolation in South America. The wine grown there is supposed to be the best in Argentina, although there has been little done towards putting it on the market.
While I was a guest of the Pereyras' I witnessed a novel sight. After dinner a bat was turned loose in the dining room. This phyllostome Señor Pereyra kept in a large cage and occasionally turned it loose to eat the mosquitoes which are a curse to Salta.
Midway between Salta and Tucumán is the station of Rosario de la Frontera near which are some famous mineral baths. It is quite a winter resort and its waters are bottled and sold all over the republic. Palau is the name of the most widely distributed brand. These waters are naturally carbonated, but are not as strong as Apollinaris or White Rock. One of the finest waters in Argentina is that of Ghino from Tucumán province. It is somewhat like Vichy in taste but is slightly medicated. Its sale, however, is unfortunately local.
The Province of Tucumán derives its name from a legendary Indian cacique named Tucuma, who is supposed to have lived in the plain of the Rio Monteros which flows through the province and which joins the Rio Salí near the city of Tucumán. It is the smallest province of Argentina, having an area of only 8926 square miles. Three-quarters of its surface is level, the remaining quarter which is the western part being hilly and mountainous. Tucumán is the most densely settled portion of Argentina, its population being, according to the census of 1914, 373,073. On account of this density of population the Tucumános like to call their province "The Europe of Argentina." In most of the republic the railroads preceded the settlers; here and also in Salta this is the reverse, for the settlers in these provinces came first. In 1560 the Viceroy of Peru, to whose dominions this part of the country had belonged, declared Tucumán an independent state. It then comprised what are now the geographical divisions of Santiago del Estero, Tucumán, Catamarca, Salta, Jujuy, and Córdoba. In 1782 Salta, Jujuy, and Córdoba were separated from it. In 1821 Catamarca and Santiago del Estero followed suit.
The capital city, also named Tucumán, was founded September 29, 1565, by Diego de Villarroel at the confluence of the Salí and Monteros rivers. In 1585 it was moved to the site that it now occupies. It is situated near the middle of the province, at an elevation of 1453 feet above sea level. The city itself has a population of about one hundred thousand inhabitants, but it is a distributing point for a much greater population for at no great distance from it are numerous towns, large sugar factories with their colonies of workmen. In shape the city is nearly square. It is eighteen blocks long from north to south and fourteen blocks wide from east to west. The streets are wide, and the newer ones, especially the boulevards which bound the limits, are lined with trees, sycamores being in the majority. Four blocks west of the eastern city limits is the Plaza Independencia, the center of mercantile, religious, and diverting activity. On it stands the cathedral, another church, the capitol, at least ten large cafés, and a couple of moving picture shows, while in the neighborhood on a street named Las Heras are the best shops.
Las Heras, an east and west intersector, is the main business street, although the one which parallels it one block to the south, and which is named Calle 24 de Setiembre, is the street which divides its intersectors into different nomenclatures in the manner of the Calle Rivadavia in Buenos Aires. South of Calle 24 de Setiembre, the streets that cross it have different names than the elongations of them that run north of it. On Calle Las Heras are the important banks. The next business streets in order according to their commercial worth are Mendoza, which parallels Las Heras one block north of it, Laprida, and Maipu, the two last named being cross streets. Calle Maipu is devoted to second class-shops; the third-class shops and the slums, which are vile, although not so vile as the slums of Córdoba, are at the extreme western end of Las Heras near the Central of Córdoba Railroad station.
The religious edifices, although their external appearances are imposing and have double towers and domes of light blue porcelain tile, are not worth visiting unless to pray in, as their interiors offer no more artistic attractions than thousands of their kind elsewhere.