By Jack Ewing

Prior to the early 1980s, the Osa Peninsula was wild and lawless place, a land of exiles. Any criminal wanting to escape the authorities and willing to endure the hardships of the jungle, fled to the Osa. Most panned gold for a living. They earned enough to buy food and lots of drink and carry on their daily routines, but none got rich.

I first visited the Osa Peninsula in 1972. We landed on the small air field in a single engine Cessna, and were met by a man named Sanitago. Driving through Puerto Jiménez I noticed several bars, a small hardware store and even a gas station, but no police station. We stopped at a general store to buy some snacks and drinks. >From there drove over a rough jeep trail to look at a farm, and several hours later returned to Puerto Jiménez where we caught the afternoon passenger boat to Golfito. There were only five passengers that afternoon and Ignacio, the boat driver, was in a talkative mood. He explained that about 90% of the population of the peninsula were wanted by the law for one thing or another. As long as they stayed in the Osa, there was nothing to worry about, but sooner or later most would delude themselves into thinking that the police had forgotten about them. They would board one of the two passenger boats that made regular runs to Golfito with the idea of slipping back into society unnoticed. What they didn’t know was that the police had a pretty complete list with photos and descriptions of every criminal who lived on the Osa. Two or three policemen waited for every boat and arrested every wanted person who stepped off.

My good friend Patrick lived in Osa for 26 years from the early 1960s to the late 1980s. He walked over every inch of the peninsula with a small scale in his pack, and a big wad of cash in his pocket, and bought gold from the miners. He always paid a fair price for the gold, and never tried to cheat anyone. “Nobody ever bothered me,” he said. “I started buying about the time that the price of gold started to climb, and everyone thought I was the one who made the price go up. Nobody wanted anything to happen to me. They were afraid that if I left, the price would fall.” When Pat started buying the price of gold was less than $100 per ounce, and when he moved away it was around $800 per ounce.

According to Patrick no occurrence was serious enough to bring the police to the Osa. On two occasions he saw people killed in barroom brawls. They just dragged the dead men out front, and everyone went back to drinking. The next day someone would bury the body. Everyone carried a hand gun. It was pretty much a wild west scenario. The 1980s brought roads to the peninsula, and with the roads came the police. The area is still far from being a prime example of law and order, but at least nobody gets away with killing people in public bars.

Prior to 1940, the area around Dominical was also a place without law and order. The nearest police office was in San Isidro de El General and was called the Agencia Principal de Policía. The the police chief was the Agente Principal de Policía. I believe the first Agente Prinicipal in San Isidro was Juvenal Venegas Garcia. He was there from 1914 until his death in 1928. Later his son-in-law, Trino Montero Rodriguez, took over the job.

Though there was no police presence in Dominical or Uvita, the people living there were mostly hard working farmers and ranchers, much different from the residents of the Osa Peninsula. Early writings mention that homemade liquor was the main illegal activity, but I doubt if the people who lived here thought it was much of a problem, only the government, who couldn’t collect tax on the moonshine. That didn’t mean that there weren’t thefts, disputes between neighbors, and even killings, because there were. But the area didn’t boast the wild west type of lawlessness so characteristic of Osa.

Emilio Vargas, who was destined to become the most remembered policeman in Dominical, was born in 1930 in San Isidro de El General. When only six years old he  accompanied his uncle on his first trip to Dominicalito to bring back some cargo that was waiting there in a store house. Long dugout boats called bongos carried local products such as rice, beans, and corn to the market in Puntarenas and returned with goods that weren’t available in the area, such as metal tools, cloth, salt and medicines. People from San Isidro carried coffee, sugar and tobacco to Dominicalito and Uvita on horseback or by oxcart. They left it with a man known as Chucuyo and others like him who took charge of the cargo and made sure it got loaded on the next bongo that came by. Chucuyo would also place the order with the bongo captain for goods to be purchased in Puntarenas and brought back on the return trip. The purpose of Emilio´s visit to Dominicalito was to help his uncle with the goods they had ordered from the port city. At that time there were no police in the area. It wasn’t until 1940 when Emilo was ten, that a man named Gonzalo Gutierrez became the first Agente Principal de Policía in Dominical. He was later replaced by Pepe Morales.

During the brief but bloody interlude of the 1948 civil war, the local police agents took up arms with one side of the conflict or the other. The revolutionary troops of Jose “Don Pepe” Figueres Ferrer, arrived in San Isidro by way of the Cerro de la Muerte and set up a stronghold there. On March 16, 1948, government troops under the command of General Tijerino arrived by sea and landed in Dominicalito. They marched to San Isidro where they clashed with the revolutionaries in a fierce battle that lasted 36 hours. General Tijerino was defeated and fled south. The rebels caught up to him in Palmares where he was killed in a short skirmish.

After the victory, Don Pepe returned to Cartago, from where he took San Jose and ended the war. He already had most of the rest of the country. On April 20 a second detachment of government troops landed in Dominicalito and marched to San Isidro. They dug in on the hill where today we find the installations of the Ministry of Transport. Either these government troops didn’t know that the civil war was over, or just didn’t want to give up, but when the victors returned to San Isidro, what ensued was more of a slaughter than a battle. There were so many casualties that the people of San Isidro had to build a make-shift crematorium to dispose of the corpses.

Shortly after the war, Don Pepe abolished the army, and Costa Rica became the only country in Latin America without a military. The men who had previously been Agentes de Policía were replaced with ones who had demonstrated absolute loyalty to Don Pepe.  For many years thereafter, every time a new president came into office the entire police force was dismissed and a new one hired. The job of local policeman was like a reward to supporters. It insured loyalty to the new president, but did little to promote professionalism in police work.

When I first came to Dominical in 1972 Don Pepe was serving his third term as President of Costa Rica, and a loyal supporter of his, Don Antonio Chacón was Agente Principal de Policia in Dominical. His job was to keep order in the community, but he also had the authority to issue citations and levy fines. If the offender was not in agreement with the fine, the case moved to the next level which, at that time, was called the Alcaldía, the equivalent of a Justice of the Peace in the United States. The Alcaldía was located in the seat of the cantón.

But Don Antonio Chacón was much more than a policeman. I used to say that having Don Antonio as the Agente Principal de Policía was like having a lawyer in Dominical. When I first came to Hacienda Barú a squatter had slashed an burned about seven hectares of rainforest, and one of my first tasks was to get him evicted. Don Antonio, suggested a meeting with the squatter, a man named Memo, and recommended that I offer to buy his shack and corn field, which were the only two things of any value he had done on the land. He sent a summons to Memo requiring his presence at the at Agencia Principal de Policia, at 3:00 PM the next day. In those days the Agencia was a shack built on a rock near present day Roca Verde. At the meeting Don Antonio explained to Memo that if I took the case to the Alcaldía in Quepos, that he would be evicted, and probably end up in jail. He agreed to sell me his shack and corn field for 700 colones, $81 at the time. Don Antonio drew up a contract on legal paper with official seals and stamps. We both signed, I paid Memo 700 colones, and he voluntarily left the land. A small corner of the parcel he had slashed and burned is today Hacienda Barú’s campground in the rainforest where we do the Night in the Jungle tour. The rest is the oldest secondary forest on the reserve.

At that time there was another police force active in the country called the Resguardo Fiscal. Their job was to go after people involved in activities that would cheat the government out of tax revenues, things like contraband cigarettes and liquor and moonshine stills. This police force had a reputation of being rough and tough and not at all friendly to the community, so much so that they earned themselves the nickname of “gorillas.” During the time that Don Antonio Chacón was the Agente Principal de Policía in Dominical, Don Pepe decided to combine the Resguardo Fiscal and the Agencia Principal into a single police force the Guardia de Asistencia Rural (GAR).

Don Antonio remained in Dominical and became the first delegate of the GAR. In 1975 at the end of Don Pepe’s term as president, Don Antonio was dismissed, and the incoming president, Daniel Oduber, gave the post to Don Emilio “Millo” Vargas. “The GAR was more than just a police force,” says Millo. “Just like the name implies, it gave assistance to rural areas.” GAR officials were always involved in community development, serving on committees and school boards and helping in any way they could. “Sure we were policemen, but we were there to serve the people as well.”

During his 20 years as a GAR delegate, Don Emilio never had to fire his gun. He once disarmed a drunk who was shooting a pistol into the air at the Miramar Bar (now Roca Verde) on New Year’s Eve, but he did it without drawing his own revolver. He served in both Uvita and Dominical. “Dominical was always an easy going place to be,” he reminisced. “Uvita was where all the problems were.” He had to deal with two homicides while he was there, and a lot of minor crime. In Dominical there was some minor crime and cattle rustling. The most exciting thing that ever happened was hurricane Joan, during which Don Millo worked tirelessly to help the community, which was totally isolated from the outside world for six days.

Other policemen who have served in Dominical were: Antonio Solano who was captain of the Resguardo Fiscal from 1962 to 1966. Amancio Obando, after whom “Las Rocas de Amancio” were named was Agente Principal de Policía from 1968 to 1970. He was followed by Antonio Chacón, Emilio Vargas, Harold Ross, Mavel Sanchez and Carlos Hernandez, all of whom served in the Guarda de Asistencia Rural and most of whom were deeply involved in the community. One outstanding example of this service ethic is the coconut plantation at Dominical Beach; most of these palms were planted by Mavel Sanchez in the 1980s.

During the time that the GAR existed its urban counterpart was called the Guardia Civil. This police force was more professional than the GAR and better prepared to deal with urban crime, but it lacked the element of community service to which the rural residents had become accustomed. In the late 1990s the government decided to combine these two police forces into one. The new service, the Fuerza Pública, is today in charge of maintaining law and order in the entire country. It is much more professional than the GAR and better prepared to deal with modern crime, but like the Guardia Civil, it lacks that wonderful element of community service so characteristic of the GAR. That isn’t to say they haven’t done their job, because they have worked diligently to maintain law and order with the resources available to them. But the Fuerza Pública has been represented by a steady stream of nameless policemen who have passed through Dominical, done their job, and been transferred somewhere else, never to be remembered.

Recently a new police force has come into being, that appears to be quite professional yet very attentive to the needs of the community, the Policía Turística. It was organized with the objective of making the country safe for tourism, and attending directly to crimes against tourists. In so doing the officers are involving themselves in the communities they serve, bringing back memories of the Guardia Asistencia Rural.

Filed under: Jack Ewing on December 9th, 2010
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