(en Español)
Carlos López Alvarado is perhaps best known by expatriates as the man who owns a chunk of prime land in the Manuel Antonio area. His holdings include 70 hectares of hilly land overlooking serene beaches, seven houses in Manuel Antonio, the Costa Rica Spanish Institute, the building beside the bus station where he now has his office, and more. But López was not always a rich man and even now, is humble and unpretentious.

Born in Limon on July 10, 1922, Don Carlos moved to Quepos when he was 18. He remembers the date exactly – it was March 19, 1940.  He says that his father was a foreman of the Compañía Bananera de Costa Rica, a subsidiary of the United Fruit Company.  In the mid-1930′s the company, based in Limon, began amassing large landholdings in the Central Pacific and by 1940, its production exceeded that of the Atlantic region.

The young Carlos told his father that he wanted to move to Quepos to take advantage of the new opportunities there. His father, not wanting to see his son go alone, asked him to wait for three months and he would transfer to Quepos and accompany him.  Don Carlos recalls that when they arrived in Quepos three months later, there were only banana plantations from Parrita to Quepos – everything concentrated on the banana industry. “There were banana plantations from Parrita to Quepos,” he says. In the same year, the Parrita – Quepos railway was completed and the company began exporting bananas from the port of Quepos instead of Limon.

Over the next few months the rest of the family joined Carlos and his father. Because Carlos’ father was a foreman of the company, they were given a company house, whereas the laborers were provided only straw huts.   Carlos followed in his father’s footsteps, starting in the company as a peon, and working his way up to eventually becoming a foreman.  He married María de los Ángeles Fonseca Peraza in 1942.

But Don Carlos says that times were tough. Quepos was a hardship post because of backward socioeconomic conditions, including low levels of education, outbreaks of malaria and the poor quality of the water that they had to pump out of the ground.  ”Ninety-five percent of the inhabitants of Quepos were Nicaraguans,” he recalls.

López left the company after 11 years, at the age of 29. With the money he earned he bought the land in Manuel Antonio in 1950, and moved there in 1951. His father and brothers remained with the Compañia Bananera, he says. Curious, I ask him why he stopped working there.  He answers that, unlike his brothers, he has a very strong character. “I was always fighting with the Americans,” he says. “Don’t get me wrong. I admire the North Americans for their vision, their progressiveness and their long-term thinking.  But I didn’t like their politics. They lacked humanity in their work. They treated us Central Americans very badly.”

He proceeds to name several of the directors with whom he differed, and to recount an incident of a foreign boss slandering one of the workers while waiting at a railway switch stop. Later, López told his co-workers that he was going to talk with the boss about his behavior, but  his friends advised him not to do so, because he could be dismissed from his job. Nonetheless,  Don Carlos did reprimanded the boss who assured him that he did not feel that way about Carlos. Still, Don Carlos insisted on an apology, and the man did apologize to López, though not to the man he had offended.

After leaving the company, he acquired 45 hectares of land in Manuel Antonio, with the help of his father.  Asked why he decided to go into farming, he says that his father, who was from San Ramon, and had a farm in Silencio, encouraged him.  Over time, he purchased a total of 91 hectares, approximately 225 acres.

He remembers his early days as a campesino as difficult but rewarding. He cleared and cultivated the land, on which he planted staples such as rice, beans, corn and yuca, as well as plantains and green vegetables.  He also purchased dairy cattle from Guanacaste.

Don Carlos, who himself had only three years of schooling, built the first school in Manuel Antonio in 1952. “We built it in 22 days, of mud and palm,” he recalls. He is proud to say he was the first President of the School Board, then jokes, “In a country of blind people anyone who has one eye is a king!”

By 1959, he says, his situation had become very difficult. He had six children and was having difficulty supporting his family. He considered looking for work in San José but his father advised him to start a business in Quepos. When Carlos replied that he had no money his father pointed out that he could get credit. He remembers that he rented a spot in the market with 2,000 colones worth of merchandise, 500 mangos and 45 centavos in his pocket to give change.

In the mornings, he would milk the cows and deliver milk to neighbors, then ride his bicycle to Quepos with his produce to sell in his small store, open from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m.  Later he bought a bullock cart to transport his products and, in 1960, he bought a car, a 1958 Toyota. He recalls that it was one of the first cars in the whole area and the first Toyota in Quepos. His son, Eduardo, now a lawyer but then a small boy, nicknamed him, “Toyota”.

I comment that he must be under much pressure to sell his land. His bright eyes flash.  ”Have you heard that?” he says. “I don’t want to sell for several reasons. I worked hard to get this land and I don’t like to sell it.  I have enough to live, after all. I didn’t buy my land to make money. I bought it so that I could bring up my children, to give them a place to live and a future. Maybe this idea seems strange, but it’s my opinion.”  He says that  if he sells with a real estate agency, the agency will take a percentage of the sale and he doesn’t want to make others rich with his land. He adds that he is thinking of keeping 30 hectares as natural hillside, so that no one will ever be able to sell it. When I nod enthusiastically, he smiles. “Many people like it that I don’t sell my land.”

I ask him how he sees all the changes in the Manuel Antonio area over the years, and he offers an original perspective.  Quepos has always been a transient place, he says. “It’s never had its own identity.  Previously it was a place for Central Americans, now there are races of all kinds.”

He goes on to talk about Manuel Antonio, now owned mostly by extranjeros.  With an ironic smile he points out that the local people “practically gave away their land” to foreigners. He claims that the foreigners who came into the area were more educated than the original property owners and disposed of their land easily. As a result, many former proprietors are left without any money and are working in low-level service posts. He adds that some are even working for the people they sold their land to, and declares, “I never want to serve others.”

Don Carlos pulls out a long, narrow sheet of paper. It’s a map of Manuel Antonio in 1950 that he prepared, showing all the original owners. He goes through their names, one by one. “This one is dead,” he said, “and this one too. This one sold to a foreigner and this one is dead as well.  The only one who is still alive and still cultivating his original property is Carlos López.

I ask him what was the biggest challenge he faced in his professional life, and he replies that everything in life is a challenge, especially when you don’t have money, only the desire to work.  He says he has always gone slowly, never wanting to make a fortune, only to look after his family and live.  However, he has continued to learn and to better himself.  He has studied throughout his life, availing of every opportunity to learn from others and reading avidly.  He is especially interested in world history.

He says that the happiest moment in his career was when he was able to resolve a very difficult situation. In 1988 he had acted as a guarantor for a loan to a person who eventually left the country without honoring his debts.  Consequently Don Carlos was obligated to return 21 million colones to the creditor. “This was a terrible time,” he admits, “because I was going to lose everything I had worked hard to achieve”.

Fortunately, some Russian visitors to Manuel Antonio offered to lend López the necessary funds based on a mortgage of his land for a value of $15 per acre.  The Russians did not return to Manuel Antonio over the next two years, and as a result, López was advised by his lawyer that he was not legally obliged to pay them. However, Don Carlos felt morally bound to return their loan and, in addition, he gave them 2.5 hectares of land which now are part of the prestigious Tulemar development.

Don Carlos and Doña María de los Ángeles had ten children, two girls and eight boys. All of them received a good education and one of them studied in the United States. Now all of them live and work in Costa Rica. Two sons, Lionel and Luis Alberto, work with him on the farm.  His wife passed away five years ago. I ask him how many grandchildren he has and he answers, “un monton” (a lot).

Asked who he admires most, he replies, “God and my father. God, because of all He has created, nature and all He has given to us, and my father, because he was, and still is, my guide – even now.”

Filed under: Carol Vlassoff, Personalities in Our Midst on December 28th, 2009
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