Young Man of Caracas

Young Man of Caracas

Young Man of Caracas

Young Man of Caracas

Excerpt

This is news to me, this book--as much as to any other reader, even though I have known Tom Ybarra for twenty-seven years. For the young man of Caracas hereinafter depicted is the person known to me as a young man of Manhattan, Boston, Paris, Berlin and way points. (No nasty cracks from the back row, please; twenty-seven years from now, you won't be as young as you used to be, either.) His North American friends were of course aware that he was half Caraqueño and half Plymouthroqueño, that the person known around New York as Thomas Russell Ybarra was known in other localities as Don Tomás Ybarra Russell, with heaven knows how many saints' names interpolated besides. But not till later, when I met in Paris his brother Alejandro, wearing out chair bottoms in boulevard cafés while he revolved schemes for slipping back to Venezuela some dark night and overthrowing the Tyrant, did I realize how far Tom had traveled from his starting point; for whatever his inward feelings may have been, it seemed to make no more difference to him who was President of Venezuela than who won the world's series, and considerably less than who won the Harvard-Yale game.

But it appears from these reminiscences that the two natures in him have been perpetually in conflict; and while Caracas lost, it was not Boston that eventually won. To me, as perhaps to a good many other people, Tom Ybarra first made himself known as a Manhattan boulevardier . . . This was back . . .

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