The Story of Bananas is Bananas

You're enjoying your afternoon when suddenly a pang of hunger strikes.

It's too early to think about dinner, but a snack sounds delightful.

You walk into the kitchen, a little unsure of what you want: something salty, something sweet.

Then you see it.

Sitting in your fruit bowl, the perfect snack food.

Affordable, individually wrapped, healthy, and most of all, pretty tasty.

Who doesn't love a good old banana?

It's always there when you need it, any time of day, anytime of year.

But did you know that underneath that peel is a history dripping with blood?

That year-round availability is thanks to a slew of wars, coups, and assassinations, all of which were waged because of bananas.

On today's episode, the story of bananas is bananas.

This is a twist of history.

It's July of 1947, the dead of summer in Tiquisate, Guatemala.

Inside a sweltering one-bedroom cabin, a white American man we'll call David suits up for the day.

He puts on jeans, a linen shirt, a wide-brimmed hat, and then slings a rifle onto his back.

David steps out into the banana plantation where he lives and works.

As he walks off toward the fields, he shoots a quick glance back at his cabin.

It's nothing special, but he likes it well enough.

At least it has consistent electricity and running water, unlike the shacks where the plantation's black and indigenous workers are forced to lodge.

David unshoulders the rifle as he reaches the fields.

The workers, some as young as 13, have already been at it for hours, climbing the trees and cutting down stalks of bananas.

Sweat pours off their bodies.

They carry the heavy bunches of bananas on their backs to trucks, which will take them to ships bound for America.

David watches the workers closely, looking for any signs of slacking.

Shooing a sand fly away from his face, he grips the rifle tightly and continues prowling up and down the roads.

Every so often, to remind them to keep working, he fires off a warning shot into the trees.

and is pleased to see it has the desired effect.

All around him, workers begin to pick up the pace.

They despise him, of course, he's well aware.

The workers not only resent him, but also the massive corporation he represents, the American-owned United Fruit Company.

But there's nothing they can do about it.

He knows it, and they know it.

Here in Guatemala, United Fruit has essentially become all-powerful.

Four decades earlier in 1901, only two years after United Fruit was founded, the company had made deep inroads with Guatemala's government.

Because of United Fruit's proven success navigating the logistical challenges of Central America, Guatemala hired the company to run the country's postal service.

And once United Fruit sunk their claws into Guatemala, they didn't let go.

Now, almost 50 years later, the company has expanded far beyond the mail.

Today, United Fruit owns Guatemala's railroad, telegraph system, hospitals, ports, and radio airwaves.

Meanwhile, the Guatemalan people own practically nothing.

Down here, 2% of the population owns 70% of the land, and no one owns more Guatemalan land than United Fruit.

All of it tax-free.

As David slings his rifle back over his shoulder, he turns to see a Jeep driving up the dirt road toward him.

In the Jeep's passenger seat is an elderly man he's never seen before.

at least not in person.

But David knows who he is.

Sam Zamuri, better known as Sam the Banana Man, is the legendary and notorious CEO of United Fruit.

Sam spends most of his time in New Orleans where the company's headquarters are located, so it's rare to actually see him in Guatemala like this.

Trying his best not to stare, David lowers his eyes as Sam's Jeep drives past.

He sneaks a quick glance at the infamous banana man, who's too busy pointing out trees and conversing with his driver to pay David any mind.

David finds it hard to believe that this 70-year-old doughy American is the ruthless tycoon he's heard so much about.

This is the man who overthrew the government of Honduras to keep the price of bananas low.

The man who personally revolutionized the way bananas were grown and who once fired almost the entire executive board of United Fruit simply for laughing at him.

As quickly as it appears, the Jeep vanishes off into the trees.

Wiping his brow, David raises his rifle once more and gets back to work.

That's when he notices one of the young workers isn't picking bananas.

Instead, the boy is gazing up the road after the Jeep.

David shouts at the boy in Spanish, demanding he get back to work.

The boy does as instructed, but before he does, he locks eyes with David, actually meets his gaze.

The moment lasts only a split second before the boy looks away and hoists himself back up into a nearby tree.

But something about the boy's boldness unnerves him.

For as long as David can remember, United Fruit has been the top dog here in Guatemala.

But deep down, he isn't sure how much longer it's going to last.

There's something new in the air, something palpable and dangerous.

There is a simmering anger behind the eyes of these workers, a defiance that seems to grow stronger each day.

Trying to put the thought from his mind, David wipes the sweat from his palms.

He continues his prow, gripping the rifle a bit tighter than before.

It's four years later, March 15th, 1951.

A 37-year-old politician named Jacobo Arbenz is backstage at Guatemala City's National Stadium.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

He's trying to concentrate on his notes, but he can barely hear himself think.

A crowd of 50,000 people is cheering.

There are thousands more assembled outside the stadium.

Everyone wants to hear what he has to say, because Arbenz is about to be inaugurated as Guatemala's new president.

From the side of the stage, Arbenz peeks out to see his predecessor, outgoing President Juan José Arevalo, delivering a speech to the roaring crowd.

For more than five years, Arbenz has been proud to work as President Arevalo's Minister of Defense, helping to protect his country and bring about progressive policies.

But now, Arbenz wants to go even further than Arevalo.

Arbenz wants to bring his country into the modern capitalist world and undo the backward system as people are trapped in.

He wants to build more roads and housing and create opportunities for people to succeed.

He's not a communist, unlike some members of his government.

He just wants Guatemala to be fully independent.

And the only way to do it is to topple the most powerful force in the country, the American-owned United Fruit Company.

Arbenz hates what United Fruit has done to his country.

The way they abuse the land and subjugate the poorest Guatemalans into back-breaking labor disgusts him.

In his mind, the banana has become a symbol of his country's exploitation.

The crowd roars again, and Arbenz knows it's time.

He can hear President Arevalo on stage finishing his speech.

Arbenz's pulse races as he gives his notes one last look.

He takes his wife Maria's hand as they walk onto the stage together.

The entire audience gets on their feet.

Their cheers become deafening.

Arbenz's eyes well up with tears at the sight of it.

All he wants is to make these people happy.

He wants them to be independent and strong.

Finally, as president, he can help them get there.

With his right hand on the Bible and Maria at his side, Arbenz takes the oath of office.

Arevalo walks over and gives Arbenz a soft smile, as if to say, good luck.

He takes off the blue and white presidential sash and hangs it on Arbenz's shoulder.

They shake hands, and flash bulbs go off all around them.

Arbenz takes the podium in a daze, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

He almost can't believe this is happening.

He thanks the crowd and the country that elected him with almost two-thirds of the vote.

He shuffles his notes together but realizes he doesn't need them anymore.

He knows exactly what he wants to say to his country.

Arbenz lowers the notes and speaks into the microphone, his eyes on his people.

In a booming voice, he tells them that United Fruits Day has come.

They exploit Guatemala's peasant class.

They own too much of Guatemala's land.

Enough is enough.

He says, quote, the revolution will have to be pushed forward, or else it will be lost.

Arbenz leans into the microphone and promises his people, together, they will take back their country.

And this receives the loudest cheer of all.

A few hours after Arbenz finishes his speech, 2,000 miles away in New Orleans, 74-year-old Sam the Banana Man Zamuri enjoys a game of nine-ball billiards.

Pole is a game of strategy, and when Sam used to play against politicians or business leaders, his strategy was to get them drunk and deliberately lose a close game.

In the warm glow of their victory, Sam could almost always get them to do anything he wanted.

Ever since he started selling bananas on trains as a teenager fresh fresh off the boat from Russia, Sam has always played the long game.

It took patience and ruthlessness in equal measure to build an empire.

These days, Sam mostly plays billiards against himself.

He's semi-retired from his job running UF.

He stays inside his sprawling mansion and rarely goes into the company headquarters across town.

Despite this though, Sam is still the one pulling the strings of the company.

No decision they make can go through without his say-so.

He may have stepped out of the public eye, but he hasn't relinquished his power.

Sam lines up a shot and sends the nine-ball into the corner pocket when the door flies open.

Sam's secretary comes into the room and hands him a piece of paper.

United Fruit's offices have just sent it over.

Sam reads and his blood begins to boil.

It's a transcription of Jacobo Arbenz's speech.

By the time he gets to the line about taking the land back from United Fruit, he's ready to snap his billiard cue over his knee.

Sam storms out of his room and into his study.

He picks up the phone and tells the operator to connect him to the office of the CIA in Washington, D.C.

He taps his foot impatiently as he waits.

Finally, the CIA Deputy Director for Plans himself picks up with a warm hello.

Alan Dulles and Sam go way back.

Before Dulles was the top American spy in Europe during World War II, He had run a law firm with his brother, John Foster Dulles.

Their firm represented United Fruit, and the brothers had served on the company's board.

Sam tells Alan Dulles that the situation in Guatemala has taken a turn.

This new president is talking about a lot of things Sam doesn't like.

They've been keeping a close eye on the situation for years, and now it's time to act.

Dulles tells Sam he'll help however he can on the government side.

As the Cold War continues to heat up, the government is eager to protect American businesses in foreign countries from outside influence, Soviet or otherwise.

Dulles says not to let anyone know, but the CIA is already moving to get boots on the ground in Guatemala, explicitly to protect United Fruit.

Sam thanks his friend and hangs up the phone.

He pours himself a glass of dark rum and walks down the long, stately hallway back to the room.

He tries to get back to his game, but he's distracted.

He can't stop thinking about Arbenz.

He respects the man's ambition and his willingness to stand up for what he believes in.

But Sam is a businessman.

Over the years, he's crushed a lot of men he respected, and he has a feeling Arbenz will be next.

A year later, on June 17th, 1952, Jacobo Arbenz is sitting in the main office of Guatemala City's presidential palace.

He hopes no one else can hear the pounding of his heartbeat.

Arbenz is about to do something no Central American leader has done in 40 years, declare war on United Fruit.

Arbenz is surrounded by his cabinet members and top generals, including his closest friend and the chief of his armed forces, Carlos Enrique Diaz.

Arbenz has known Diaz since they were young men in the military academy.

He's grateful to have someone he trusts by his side while he takes such important action.

Arbenz uncaps a fountain pen and takes a good look at the paper sitting on his desk.

He He swells with pride at the sight of it.

He's been working on getting it through Congress since his inauguration day.

It's a decree that takes uncultivated land from the largest farms in the country, divides it up, and gives it to the poorest peasant farmers in the country.

Although the decree doesn't specify a target, it will only apply to large tracts owned by the United Fruit Company.

In exchange for the land, United Fruit will be paid about 600,000 US dollars.

It's a whole lot less than the $16 million the land is actually worth, but the price is based on United Fruit's own fraudulent tax filings.

In an effort to increase the profits, Sam Zamuri has blatantly lied to the government about the land's true worth for years.

Arbenz smiles wide as he signs at the bottom of the page.

Decree 900 is officially law on Guatemala.

This is a dangerous move and Arbenz knows it.

He's not just starting a war with the company that controls much of Guatemala.

He's making a direct enemy of the United States too, even after they tried to negotiate with him.

Months before Decree 900 was signed, shortly after Arbenz was elected, the American ambassador to Guatemala, a man by the name of John Pirafoy, had reached out to schedule a meeting.

Pirafoy had offered to secretly transfer Arbenz $2 million from a Swiss bank account to temper his extreme policies.

Whether the money was coming from the CIA or United Fruit, it didn't matter.

Arbenz turned it down, even though he knew it might provoke them to take more violent action.

He was focused on his people, not his bank account, and he still is.

Recapping his fountain pen, Arbenz stands up and moves throughout the room.

He shakes hands with his compatriots and kisses his wife.

He's overflowing with excitement.

Decree 900 is just the start.

Piece by piece, he's going to loosen United Fruit's grip on his country until they can't hold on any longer.

A month later, on bustling St.

Charles Avenue in New Orleans, a pristine white Rolls-Royce pulls in front of the United Fruit Company building.

A scowling Sam Zamuri emerges from the car.

He prefers to stay hunkered down inside his mansion, manipulating events and people from the shadows.

But Jacobo Arbenz in his Decree 900 has forced Sam out into the light.

Sam enters through the doors of the building underneath the ornate stone carvings of fruit that adorn the archway.

He gets into the elevator stewing in his anger.

This isn't the first time Sam's faced a challenge like this.

Back in 1910 when Honduras' president threatened to raise the taxes on Sam's plantations to help pay off their national debt, Sam took drastic action.

He found the deposed former president of the country Manuel Bonilla in a seedy New Orleans bar.

He assembled a team of 100 mercenaries, outfitted them with guns and a warship, and sent them off to Honduras.

The coup that Sam incited was violent and also a rousing success for his company.

Hundreds of Hondurans died before fighting stopped and Bonilla became president once again.

His first act was giving Sam more land to develop into banana plantations and decreasing his taxes.

Sam continued expanding in South America, eventually taking over Guatemala.

Things in Central America had been smooth sailing ever since, until Arbenz became president.

Sam reaches the top floor and pushes his way to the boardroom.

He notes that the board members don't exactly look pleased to see him.

Then again, they never do.

When Sam is in the office, it means things are not going well at the company.

Sam immediately lays into them, cursing relentlessly to emphasize his points.

He announces that because they failed to stop Arbenz in Guatemala, he's taking the company back.

As the only person in the company with experience navigating through such a crisis, not to mention one of its biggest shareholders, he needs to be in control full-time.

His semi-retirement is over.

Sam explains that to fix this mess they're in, the first step is to coordinate a massive public relations campaign to smear Arbenz as a communist, even if he isn't one.

It'll help get the public, which is terrified at the thought of the Soviet Union taking over the world on their side.

In the midst of the Red Scare, the more people they can get to believe that United Fruit is standing up for American capitalism against freedom-hating communism, the better.

Sam goes on to explain that thanks to his friend Alan Dulles, the CIA has already begun infiltrating the highest levels of government in Guatemala.

They're doing everything they can to sow discord against Arbenz among his administration, especially the military.

and they're prepared to take more action if necessary.

Violent action.

The meeting concludes with the board lined up behind Sam's plan.

As the others file out of the boardroom, Sam walks to the window.

He has a stunning view of the entire city from up here, including the port of New Orleans, where United Fruits ships unload their precious cargo.

Sam practically built that harbor.

He's been the banana man for almost 60 years.

Jacobo Arbenz has been president of Guatemala for one.

Sam is going to beat him one way or another.

In late August 1953, Alan Dulles, now the CIA's director, strolls through the halls of the White House's West Wing with a lot on his mind.

There's much to do, but as far as Dulles is concerned, nothing on today's list is more important than shoring up support for his old pal Sam Zamuri and the United Fruit Company.

Finally, Dulles has the job he's been gunning for for almost a decade.

In his mind, he doesn't have to answer to anyone, not even the president who nominated him, Dwight D.

Eisenhower.

Eisenhower is a man of principles.

He fights for what he believes in, and Dulles likes that about him.

Dulles thinks it makes him easier to manipulate.

Dulles adjusts his wireframe glasses as he walks into the Oval Office.

He's the last to arrive for this meeting.

He shakes Eisenhower's hand with a big smile.

As he sits down on the couch, he says hello to the other cabinet members present, including the new Secretary of State, Dulles' own brother, John Foster Dulles.

Eisenhower sits and asks Alan Dulles to begin.

Dulles leans forward with a glint in his eye.

This is his favorite part of the job, making the people above him believe that whatever is about to come out of their mouth is their own decision.

He begins by explaining that the situation in Guatemala is taking a turn.

Decree 900 was just the start.

Jacobo Arbenz's government will keep meddling in American business.

It's not just about nationalism.

Dulles says the CIA uncovered intelligence that shows Arbenz is secretly a communist.

The Soviet Union is building a satellite state right in the United States' own backyard.

Eisenhower is nodding now, which Dulles takes as his cue to lean in harder.

When it comes to Eisenhower, Dulles knows just what strings to pull, and now he's got the president right where he wants him.

After all, this is hardly the first time Dulles has successfully used trumped-up communist accusations to guide Eisenhower's hand.

Just earlier that month, Dulles used the very same tactic to convince the president that the U.S.

should oust Iran's democratically elected prime minister.

Dulles' eyes narrow.

Selecting his words carefully, he says that in order for America to be protected against communism, Arbenz has to go.

He needs Eisenhower's approval to start preparing for a coup.

Eisenhower thinks it over for a minute.

He looks to his advisors for advice.

John Foster Dulles pipes up.

He says the only real way to keep communism contained, especially in the Western Hemisphere, is to take strong, decisive action.

Eisenhower nods.

He says it's better to be safe than sorry.

He agrees.

Alan Dulles can move forward with his plan.

Dulles grins, and he and his brother share a look.

They know the truth.

This has nothing to do with communism and everything to do with money and bananas.

Five months later, in late January 1954, Jacobo Arbenz is out for a walk in Guatemala City.

He likes being among his people, seeing what's going on in their lives.

Everywhere he goes, crowds swarm him.

He becomes a hero throughout Latin America ever since he signed Decree 900.

Peasants and revolutionaries alike from across Central America have begun moving to the country, a new land of opportunity, one that stood up to the banana man.

But Arbenz knows he's not popular everywhere, especially since earlier this month he received word that the CIA is planning to overthrow him.

He needs to make a decision about what to do next.

When he first received the intelligence, Arbenz had immediately issued a statement denouncing United Fruit and their government partners.

But the U.S.

government denied any such plot was in motion.

The American media took their side, claiming Arbenz was falling prey to Soviet propaganda.

But in truth, Arbenz wants nothing to do with the Soviets or the Americans.

He's just trying to run his country in a way that helps his people.

Today, as he walks down the street, Arbenz shakes hands with his fellow countrymen.

He kisses people's babies.

He buys bananas from a local vendor, an everyday Guatemalan taking control of their own product, away from United Fruit.

The vendor tries to give the bananas to him for free, but Arbenz insists on paying.

He knows the work that went into harvesting them.

As he walks away from the stall, Arbenz makes his mind up.

The banana companies are trying to take the country away from these people again, but he won't let that happen.

Arbenz heads back to the presidential palace, his mind steeled with resolve.

His eyes are clear now.

He knows what must be done.

He goes to his office and makes a call to his friend Carlos Diaz, the leader of his armed forces.

He tells him to prepare for war.

A few months later, on the morning of June 15th, 1954, Sam Zamuri stands on a dock in New Orleans with a cigar in his mouth.

The towering stacks of a cargo-laden United Fruit Company ship loom over him.

Sam watches closely as cartons of soon-to-be-ripe bananas are unloaded from the ship.

At last, the ship is completely unloaded.

But Sam stays put.

He continues watching, and soon he spies what he came to see.

A few men have appeared on the docks, and they're wheeling large, mysterious crates into the bows of the now-empty ship.

Anyone watching would assume they're filled with tools for the fruit business, and in a way, they are.

The crates are packed with hundreds of guns and bombs destined for Guatemalan rebels.

Courtesy of the CIA.

Sam confidently takes a puff from his cigar.

Everything is going according to plan.

For the last year, the CIA has been amassing manpower to take on Arbenz's army.

They located Carlos Castillo Armas, a Guatemalan general who had previously tried to overthrow the government, working as a furniture salesman in Honduras.

They enlisted General Armas to take command of the CIA-trained rebels.

The playbook was the same as it had been in Iran and Honduras.

destabilize the country until its people lost faith in their leadership.

Then, General Armas could sweep in as a hero to restore order to the country.

Sam watches as the men load the last crate onto the ship.

The anchor is pulled up, the ropes are let loose, and the ship takes off.

He squints out to sea as the ship disappears into the morning fog.

The ship will be in Guatemala in only a few days.

By the end of the month, the country will be his once again.

This mission isn't going to fail.

Why else would the CIA have nicknamed it Operation Success?

Sam finishes his cigar and crushes it under his boot heel, just as he's going to crush Arbenz.

Three days later, around noon on June 18, 1954, Jacobo Arbenz is pacing back and forth across his office in Guatemala City.

He's wrestling with a problem that has no easy solution.

Guatemala's National Army doesn't have enough guns.

Unfortunately for Arbenz, the Western Hemisphere's weapon trade runs through the United States, and they've forbidden their allies from selling weapons to Arbenz.

A month ago, without any other options, Arbenz decided to buy some weapons from communist Czechoslovakia.

The incident angered some more conservative members of Arbenz's government, who feared he was pushing the country in line with the Soviet Union.

Among those upset were a number of high-ranking military officers, and now Arbenz can only pray they'll stay loyal to him in the upcoming fight.

Suddenly, the radio switches to an emergency broadcast.

Arbenz's heart skips a beat as he listens to the report.

The CIA-backed rebels have invaded Guatemala City.

Arbenz has been preparing for this for months, but his stomach still churns with uncertainty.

He didn't expect an attack so soon.

He figured he'd receive reports of rebel activity long before they reached the capital.

Arbenz reaches for his phone to try and call his top generals.

But just as he starts dialing, the sound of war, explosions, machine gun fire, screaming erupt outside his window.

Arbenz crouches down and braces himself.

The voice on the radio reports that the rebel soldiers are getting close to the palace.

When they arrive, the announcer says they'll surely kill the president.

Arbenz swallows his fear and moves to the double doors leading to the balcony.

The sound of ricocheting bullets is deafening.

One of Arbenz's advisors bursts into the room.

He tells Arbenz to stay out of sight.

But Arbenz says he has no choice.

How can he plan out his military strategy if he can't see what's going on?

Keeping low, Arbenz opens the door and steps out into the balcony.

He cranes his neck, scanning for a glimpse of the rebel soldiers and sees...

nothing.

The sounds of bullets and bombs continue, and yet Arbenz sees no explosions.

no smoke, no rebel soldiers in the streets.

It takes him a moment to realize that the sounds of warfare aren't actually real.

He can see from his balcony that it's just audio coming from speakers planted on the streets.

Arbenz stands up, baffled.

He goes back into the office and listens as the radio announcer keeps up his hysterical report.

According to him, Arbenz has just been captured and will soon be executed.

Now Arbenz begins to understand.

He's been expecting a massive invasion, exactly the kind the radio is reporting on.

But the broadcast is actually a ruse.

The CIA is playing this differently.

They're trying to use misinformation to destabilize his power.

They want his people to turn against him, so that when the rebels really do reach the city, there will be no resistance.

As he hangs up the phone, Arbenz swallows hard.

Standing against the American-backed rebels in a fair fight would be hard enough.

But with this misinformation campaign, the prospect of victory feels almost impossible.

Without a miracle, the broadcaster's fake story could very well become reality.

A few days later, on June 23, 1954, Sam Zamuri is sitting at the table with his wife.

Their servants bring out a separate meal for each of them.

For her, chicken bicata.

For Sam, lettuce and toast.

Sam's got a delicate relationship with food.

He often feels sick when he eats, especially meat.

However much it annoys his wife, he likes to stick to simple things his body can easily digest.

Bread, figs, bananas.

A servant enters and tells Sam he has a phone call.

Sam grins and gets up from the table.

This is his favorite part of the day.

when he gets word from a CIA operative about how things are going in Guatemala.

Sam walks to his study to take the call in private.

He doesn't know whose gruff voice is on the other end of the line during these calls, but whoever it is, Sam considers him a friend for the good news he's been bringing all week.

The voice informs Sam that the rebels have made significant progress toward the capital.

Better yet, the fake news reports and war sounds are working as intended.

They've received reports that Guatemalan generals are beginning to lose confidence in Arbenz amid the chaos.

They're refusing to fight for him, some for financial reasons.

One general accepted a $60,000 bribe to give up his troops.

Only a few more dominoes have to fall before Guatemala's entire national government crumbles.

The rebels will soon reach the presidential palace and their victory will be secured.

Sam thanks his source for the update.

There's an extra pep in his step as he returns to the dining room.

He sits back down at the table opposite his wife and digs into his lettuce and toast.

She comments that he seems happier than normal.

He tells her things are going very well for the business.

Very well, indeed.

Back in Guatemala, Jacobo Arbenz is drunk.

Hiding in his bedroom at the presidential palace, his shirt is drenched in sweat.

Another explosion rattles the windows, and Arbenz hears a whimper from the bathroom where Maria and the children are cowering nearby.

Stone-faced, Arbenz takes another pull from his bottle.

There was no miracle.

This is the end.

He knows it.

The piped-in sounds of bullets and bombs have been replaced by real ones, raining down on the city from U.S.-sponsored planes.

Citizens are being murdered in the street.

Officers who were supposedly loyal are now turning their backs on Arbenz.

Many members of the military are too demoralized to fight.

They feel like they have no chance against an army backed by the United States.

Now, it would seem Arbenz is on his own.

Arbenz cautiously stands up and walks to answer the door.

He opens it carefully to see the square-jawed U.S.

ambassador who once tried to buy him off, John Purifoy, standing on the other side.

Purifoy says he's there to make another offer.

Arbenz tries to close the door.

Whatever the U.S.

is offering him, he's not interested.

But Purifoy pushes in to keep the door open.

He says he's not there representing America.

He's come on behalf of Carlos Diaz, Arbenz's leader of the armed forces.

Arbenz's stomach plummets.

He knows what this means.

Purifoy says Diaz has turned on Arbenz, and as a result, the entire military has completely lost faith in him.

The only thing Arbenz can do now is step down.

Otherwise, he and his family are going to be killed.

If it's not by the rebels, then by his own army.

The walls are closing in on Arbenz.

After everything he's done, everything he's tried to do, there's nowhere left to run.

He's exhausted.

Arbenz looks down at his shoes and agrees to do it.

He'll step down as Guatemala's president.

Two days later, on June 27, 1954, Jacobo Arbenz is at his desk at the Presidential Palace.

Two years earlier, he sat here surrounded by supporters and signed Decree 900, perhaps the proudest moment of his life.

Now, he's alone, here to record his final address as Guatemala's leader.

Arbenz sits up in his chair, straining against the weight he feels on his shoulders.

At the end of the day, he just wants what's best for Guatemala.

All he can do is hope that his speech will galvanize his people.

He wants them to focus on the real enemy at hand.

Arbenz clears his throat and summons all the strength he has.

He knows he can't expect his people to stay strong unless he puts on a brave face.

Workers, peasants, patriots, he begins, speaking directly into a tape recorder on his desk.

He explains that the United Fruit Company is entirely to blame for the chaos in their streets.

He refutes their claims that he's a secret communist and says he's tried everything to prove that's not true.

Even though he has no choice but to step down, he refuses to apologize for his actions.

Even though he feels betrayed, he says he's placing command of the country in the hands of his top general, Carlos Diaz.

As he nears the end of the speech, Arbenz's eyes well up.

He has to keep his voice from shaking.

This isn't about him.

It's about all Guatemalans.

All he wants to see is his country freed.

All he wants is independence.

He can only pray that such an outcome can happen without him.

He swallows his sadness and lets his voice ring out clearly.

Let peace be restored.

Let the gains be kept, he says.

Long live Guatemala.

Arbenz shuts off the recording.

The speech is set to be transmitted in an hour.

By then, Arbenz will no longer be president.

Arbenz and his family take their bags and walk out into the street.

Arbenz flinches as he hears the sound of of the rebel army moving through the city.

He takes Maria's hand and they walk across the street to the Mexican embassy with their children.

Arbenz can barely make eye contact with the guards posted outside.

He asks for asylum, to be sheltered here until we can leave for Mexico.

The guards make a phone call and nod.

As Arbenz walks into the embassy with his family, he tries to hold on to the hope that maybe, just maybe, his speech will change things for this country.

What he doesn't know is that the CIA is going to jam the signal on his final broadcast.

Most Guatemalans will never hear it.

Two weeks later, Sam Zamuri starts his day the same way he always does, by reading obsessively through the New York Times from his bed.

The paper happens to be owned by an old friend of his and Alan Dulles.

Thanks to Dulles, the coverage of the coup has been positive.

A servant walks into the room with Sam's breakfast.

He says someone is on the line from Guatemala.

Curious, Sam leans over and takes up the receiver on his bedside table.

A hearty laugh comes over the line.

It's General Carlos Castillo Armas, the newly installed leader of Guatemala.

Armas thanks Sam profusely for all his help.

Without United Fruit, he'd still be selling furniture in Honduras.

Now that he's captured or killed all of Arbenz's allies, he's going to return all the land Arbenz took from United Fruit.

Sam nods.

It's good to hear, he says.

Though a part of him worries about how fast Armas is going, it might draw unnecessary attention to the company.

After all, if the land isn't returned in a tactful way, the public might begin to wonder whether United Fruit had actually been behind the coup.

But Sam holds his tongue.

He's not going to say that to a violent dictator.

Armas says he looks forward to a continued partnership.

Sam agrees, but he knows it's a lie.

Now that the future of United Fruit is secured, Sam knows he can finally retire.

For real this time.

He thanks Armas for all his hard work and hangs up.

He leans back on the bed, his mind reeling.

He's been working day and night ever since he was a teenager, and no matter how much money he made, it never felt like like enough.

But now, there's nothing left to conquer.

The thought of it makes him feel a little...

empty.

Sam pushes the thought out of his mind and tries to focus on his breakfast.

It includes, what else?

A banana.

Soon after Operation Success, Sam Zamuri fully retired as the head of United Fruit.

He was right to feel the coup brought unnecessary attention to United Fruit.

A year later, in 1955, 1955, the U.S.

Justice Department said the company had a monopoly in Guatemala and forced it to establish a competitor.

Their profits began to decline sharply as a result.

Sam died in 1961 at the age of 84.

Carlos Castillo Armas would go on to become a brutal dictator, establishing a police state in Guatemala.

He was assassinated in 1957, and the country was plunged into a brutal civil war that lasted for decades.

Jacobo Arbenz lived the rest of his life in exile, never returning to Guatemala.

The CIA waged an intense propaganda campaign against him in the country even after his removal.

He drowned under suspicious circumstances in his bathtub in Mexico in 1971.

For the rest of her life, his wife Maria insisted the United States had assassinated him.

In 2011, the Guatemalan government issued a formal apology to Arbenz's surviving family for their role in removing him from office.

Even though the banana's popularity in the U.S.

continued to rise, outselling apples and oranges combined, United Fruit eventually sold all its land to Guatemala.

But the company's employment of violent mercenaries didn't end with Sam Zamuri.

In 2024, a United States court found them liable for financing a designated terrorist group for protection over their banana plantations.

United Fruit's power has diminished since the days of the Guatemalan coup, but they're still around today.

Sort of.

That's because eventually they rebranded.

So the next time you're in the supermarket and you see a nice ripe bunch, you might notice that little blue sticker on it that says, Jiquita Banana.

And you might think about all it took to make the banana the king of the fruit aisle.

From Ballin Studios, this is a twist of history.

A quick note about our stories.

They're all heavily researched, but some details and scenes are dramatized.

A Twist of History is hosted by me, Joel Blackwell.

Executive produced by Mr.

Ballin and Zach Levitt.

Our head of writing is Evan Allen.

Produced by Perry Kroll.

This episode was written by Jake Natureman.

Story editing by Luke Baratz and Aaron Lamb.

Edited by Alastair Sherman.

An audio mixing by Colin Lester Fleming.

Post-production supervision by Jeremy Bone and Cole Lacasio.

Research and fact-checking by Abigail Shumway, Camille Callahan, Evan Beamer, Alex Paul, Patricia Nicole Florentino, Calvin Riley-Holgate, Matt Gilligan, Matt Teemstra.

Production coordination by Delena Corley and Samantha Collins.

Artwork by Jessica Kloxton-Kiner and Robin Vane.

Thanks for listening to A Twist of History.

You can listen to more of me over at the Let's Read podcast and Let's Read YouTube channel.

See you next time.