El PenecaDigital reader
Complete text · images in preparation
El PenecaDigital reader
Complete text · images in preparation
1. INTRODUCTION.
2. EL PENECA: A CHILEAN CHILDREN'S WEEKLY.
2.1. First Period: 1908-1921. Enrique Blanchard-Chessi and Emilio Vaisse.
2.1.1. Covers, Illustrators, and Photographers.
2.1.2. Contributions: The Magazine Answered Letters.
2.1.3. Social Life.
2.1.4. Comics and Illustrated Stories.
2.1.5. Children's Literature.
2.2. Second Period: 1921-1951.
2.2.1. Elvira Santa Cruz Ossa ("Roxane"): Her Life and Her Team.
2.2.2. Her Editorial Direction (1921-1951).
2.2.3. Covers, Illustrators, and Photographers. Interview with Gabriela Silva Ossa.
2.2.4. Contributions and Interaction with Readers.
2.2.5. Children's Literature: A New Style.
2.3. Third Period: 1951-1960 / 1971-1972.
Editors, Covers, and Illustrators.
2.4. What Did El Peneca Teach Without Saying So?
2.4.1. Patriotic Values and National Heroes.
2.4.2. Images of Women and Men.
2.4.3. The "Roto": A Chilean Figure That Later Disappeared.
3. CHILEAN PUBLIC FIGURES REMEMBER EL PENECA.
4. EL PENECA AND OTHER CHILEAN CHILDREN'S MAGAZINES.
5. WHY DID EL PENECA DISAPPEAR? (AND WHY DO WE STILL REMEMBER IT?).
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.
BIBLIOGRAPHY.
“This is not a book of academic history. It is a book of memory. I am writing it so that young people today will know that, before violence tore everything apart, Chile was capable of dreaming for its children. Not so that they will look back with naïve nostalgia, but so that they will know that hope is not an invention—and that it is worth fighting for.”
El Peneca was the most successful children's weekly in Chilean history up to the time it closed in 1960. It was published continuously for 52 years, from 1908 to 1960. Entire generations of Chilean children—and children in other Latin American countries as well—grew up reading its pages.
In this work, I tell the story of the founders and the golden age of El Peneca: Enrique Blanchard-Chessi, Emilio Vaisse, and Elvira Santa Cruz (remembered as “Roxane”). I also write about its illustrators, writers, photographers, and comic-strip scriptwriters. Because El Peneca was a factory of talent.
It did more than entertain: it also taught habits, skills, and values, while reflecting Chile's changes, joys, and troubles.
That is why studying El Peneca also means understanding the history of the country.
It all began in 1987. There was no internet. The only copies of El Peneca were kept in the underground archives of the National Library in Santiago. I spent months going through every bound volume by hand, with painstaking patience. The librarians helped me, especially Don Fernando Castro, who was in charge of the periodicals collection and became a pillar of this research.
At the same time, I began searching for old issues on my own: at street markets, through collectors—wherever I could find them.
To understand El Peneca properly, it must be placed in the broader context of children's literature around the world. Three major currents shaped that history:
Religious moralism (17th and 18th centuries): children were seen as pure beings who needed to be protected.
Pedagogical Romanticism (mid-19th century): knights, fables, myths, and legends entered children's reading.
Commercial modernism (the turn from the 19th to the 20th century): comics, illustrated serials, and stories published in installments emerged.
The goal was to reach large numbers of children. El Peneca brought all of these currents together: a little religious moralism, some pedagogical Romanticism, and a great deal of commercial modernism—but with an unmistakably Chilean stamp.
Founding phase (1908–1921): Blanchard-Chessi and Vaisse. They created a publication built on trust, joy, and learning. Alongside entertainment, they wanted to help shape future citizens. Golden age (1921–1951): this is where Santa Cruz shines. She completely transformed the very idea of a children's magazine in Chile. Final stage (1951–1960), followed by a brief return (1971–1972). Other editors came afterward. The weekly changed, and eventually its light went out.
From the outset, the founders incorporated a project of national identity that linked military honor with patriotism. Although this underlying current was not expressed explicitly during Santa Cruz's tenure, it never fully disappeared. The message took shape in three areas: the role of the Armed Forces; gender models (developed in subsection 2.4.2); and the figure of the “roto” as a symbol of national identity—a figure that would later disappear.
I interviewed well-known Chileans—writers, artists, politicians, and academics. They told me how El Peneca influenced their education, their way of thinking, and their memories. You will find points of agreement and also differences. But they all agree on one thing: El Peneca left a lasting mark on them.
El Peneca became a training ground for illustrators, scriptwriters, and advertising artists who worked there and later went on to found magazines of their own. This helped create what became known as “the golden age of Chilean magazines.”
The secret of its success lay in a two-part strategy: capable, visionary editors who knew how to blend the best of Europe and the United States with the Chilean spirit. Falling sales ultimately brought the magazine to an end.
First issue: November 23, 1908. Only five more issues appeared that year. After that, it was published weekly (four issues per month, 48 per year). Over 52 years—through December 15, 1960—2,705 issues were published. Some years included special issues, and months do not all have the same number of weeks, so the figure is not exact. But between December 1971 and April 1972, El Peneca returned: another 26 issues were published. Then came the final silence:
EXTRAORDINARY ISSUE
As we have said, our next issue will be an extraordinary double number, richly illustrated with engravings and color. It will be devoted to commemorating the epic of Iquique. We wish to repay the favor shown to us by our countless readers.
And it will cost only the usual price: TEN CENTAVOS.
EL PENECA, no. 25, May 10, 1909.
This research is an initial contribution, not a complete one. It would be impossible to show the thousands of stories, drawings, letters, poems, games, and contributions that appeared during the magazine's 52 years.
What you will find here are representative texts and drawings, credited to their authors, pseudonyms, or left anonymous where appropriate. Dates may occasionally appear out of sequence, because the purpose is to convey what El Peneca was like—not to produce a flawless dissertation.
My purpose is twofold. First, to explain how this project was born, what its founders hoped to achieve, and how Elvira Santa Cruz, through her many-sided journalism, turned the magazine into mass reading with sales that reached close to 240,000 copies a week. But beyond the chronicle itself, this essay seeks to recover a vital cultural legacy whose presence can still be felt today. It is about telling the story of a magazine while also understanding how, for more than five decades, a communications medium helped shape citizens, build a national identity, and create a community of readers in a country divided by geography and inequality. El Peneca was a laboratory of modernity, experimenting with forms of participation, education, and artistic creation. Its disappearance marked the end of an artisanal era of publishing in the face of television's rise and changes in the book market.
Author's Note: This essay grew out of research begun in 1987 at the National Library in Santiago, while I was pursuing postgraduate studies in Literature at Johann Wolfgang Goethe University in Frankfurt am Main. Although I did not complete the doctoral dissertation, the material was preserved for almost four decades. Now transformed into a freely accessible essay, each section will be accompanied by illustrations that visually support the text. I welcome in advance any corrections or comments from readers.
EL PENECA was first published in 1908 by the Zig-Zag publishing house, owned by Agustín Edwards Mac-Clure. The Edwards family had a major economic presence in Chilean agriculture, mining, and banking. His business partner was Gustavo Helfmann, whose family had been involved in publishing and newspapers since the mid-19th century, including the Chilean Times. In 1902, Helfmann purchased the Universo printing and lithography works in Valparaíso.
Agustín Edwards Mac-Clure was heir to one of Chile's most influential fortunes from the mid-19th into the 20th century. His grandfather, Agustín Edwards Ossandón, laid the foundations of the family legacy by acquiring and consolidating the newspaper El Mercurio in Valparaíso. In 1880, his son Agustín Edwards Ross inherited the newspaper and continued expanding the family's holdings.
Agustín Edwards Mac-Clure, son of Agustín Edwards Ross, became director of El Mercurio in 1900. Under his leadership, the newspaper made a strategic leap by publishing a Santiago edition for the first time, thereby becoming a publication with national reach. A lawyer, writer, intellectual, philanthropist, and moderate politician of the National Party, Edwards Mac-Clure also maintained close ties to banking and publishing. He was a cofounder of Federico Santa María Technical University in Valparaíso.
In 1905 he acquired the Zig-Zag publishing house and, together with the Universo printing and lithography works, created a magazine bearing the same name: Zig-Zag. Through the magazine Zig-Zag, the enterprise became one of the most modern publishing companies in South America at the time and consolidated the Edwards clan's influence over the continent's media and cultural life.
Agustín Edwards Mac-Clure and Gustavo Helfmann established a business relationship linking the publishing house and the printing works. On November 23, 1908, they published the first issue of the children's magazine under the title:
EL PENECA. In the masthead, to the left of the words El Peneca, two cheerful children were drawn in black-and-white pen and ink: one holding a drum and the other a spinning top; to the right, a little girl played with a skipping rope. The subtitle read:
ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY FOR CHILDREN. No. 1.
Year 1, Office: Teatinos 666. P.O. Box 2017, English Telephone 780.
Below it was a full-page portrait of a little boy's face wearing spectacles, a symbol of wisdom. Beneath this two-color drawing, the following verse appeared:
“I am, dear sirs, the editor, With ample means to fight my way
A most unusual character, Through this life so full of thorns;
With many things to say to you, Much experience, plenty of cheer,
And many things to tell you too. Forty pens and a pair of spectacles.”
At the lower right appeared the words: PRICE 10 CTS. The first cover was created by the Italian artist José Foradori (“Pepin”). Born in Bologna, Italy (according to estimates based on an early-20th-century portrait, c. 1900-1905), and trained at the prestigious School of Graphic Arts in Milan, Foradori came to South America, first settling in Argentina before establishing himself in Chile in the late 19th century. Despite the importance of his work, no clear information is available about the year of his death—a striking contrast with the enduring graphic legacy he left on the weekly. His professional career was closely tied to Editorial Zig-Zag and, especially, to El Peneca. His work there revealed both technical mastery and a creativity that allowed him to play with form and scale, producing an immediate visual impact on readers.
In this first issue, the editorial staff—and the first editor—addressed readers in a warm, intimate voice: “a word of sympathy and affection for you, boys and girls, who will be the true supporters of this publication. ‘El Peneca’ is for you.” The tone sought to build an emotional bond with its young audience, presenting the magazine not only as entertainment but as a companion in growing up. The use of vosotros, a form associated with Peninsular Spanish and common in formal writing of the period, reinforced the publication's solemn, institutional character.
The opening paragraph explained its mission in two words: “to entertain and instruct you.” That dual purpose reflected the educational thinking of the era, in which entertainment was understood as a vehicle for moral, civic, and cultural education. The aim was to shape good citizens from childhood onward:
“NEWS FROM ‘EL PENECA’
To Our Readers. First of all, a word of sympathy and affection for you, boys and girls, who will be the true supporters of this publication.
‘El Peneca’ is for you, to entertain and instruct you. We shall give you delightful stories, with interesting engravings that we are sure you will enjoy; beautiful poems that you may recite to your dear parents, or, if you are a little older, at gatherings and school societies; plays that you may perform at school or at home; scientific amusements and experiments of every kind, with which you may pleasantly spend recess and holidays and even astonish a good many people; entertaining and useful pictures; illustrations from world history that will give you an accurate idea of great events and help you remember what you are studying or have studied; and every piece of interesting information that may be necessary, or at least useful, to you. For the little girls we shall devote a special page to sewing, embroidery, and other tasks suited to their pursuits. Manuals on carpentry, printing, tinsmithing, bookbinding, and so forth will be devoted especially to the boys. Music will also receive our attention. And because we wish to please you, we shall spare no effort in bringing every kind of improvement to the publication.
The children themselves may tell us everything they would like to see.
Portraits of children, Christmas and New Year's raffles, Improvements to El Peneca, Contributions, School Celebrations, Rules, Prizes, Questions and Answers, Postage Stamps.”
EL PENECA, no. 1, November 23, 1908.
By declaring that “grown-ups, too, will find much to learn,” the magazine broke with the idea that children's material belonged only to children. Adults were invited to participate, to read alongside the young, and to act as a bridge. The phrase “everything depends on their goodwill” amounted to a statement of principle. The weekly presented itself as something alive, sustained by the community and, above all, by the advice of older readers:
“NEWS FROM ‘EL PENECA’
“For Whom Will ‘El Peneca’ Be?
It is undoubtedly intended for the entertainment of boys and girls, and for that reason we shall express ourselves in the simplest language possible. But we are certain that grown-ups, too, will find in it much to learn and, above all, much with which to amuse themselves. Grown-ups, moreover, will be the ones able to advise us: everything depends upon their goodwill.”
EL PENECA, no. 1, November 23, 1908.
The idea of publishing children's books and magazines in a weekly format came from Europe. Edwards Mac-Clure and Gustavo Helfmann almost certainly saw an editorial opportunity in it, taking advantage of the popularity such publications had already achieved in Europe and the United States. Indeed, it was in those markets that this kind of reading had first gained wide circulation in the early and mid-19th century.
By declaring practical education, morality, and hygiene to be its “primary aims,” the publication aligned itself with the hygienist and educational currents that prevailed in Chile during the first decades of the 20th century. Its call for the “cooperation of all” revealed an understanding of reading as a communal and participatory act, in which children and families were active partners in building the weekly.
The word objeto here meant purpose or aim. This was not simply a matter of saying, “Here is our magazine—look at it,” but of announcing: “This is what we have come to do.” Beneath the apparent lightness of a children's publication lay a deep conviction: “They shall have all our affection, and therefore we shall spare no effort….” The editors were promising to give children what they deserved. At its core was an ethic of work devoted to childhood. “Before anything else, we shall strive to win the children's affection.” At a time when education was often rigid and authoritarian, such a declaration of sympathy, warmth, and welcome was strikingly modern:
“Purpose of This Publication
EL PENECA takes its place among the publications of the country inspired by the noblest sentiments: to teach, to do good, to instill morality, to develop the seed of what is good, noble, and always worthy; to strive, if possible, to form sound, strong, patriotic characters; in short, to cooperate with the efforts of all those who labor on behalf of popular education and, in every case, to provide children with delight and charm, wholesome and beneficial recreation.
For some time we had been thinking of undertaking this work—the first of its kind in the country, according to the plan we have set ourselves—but before carrying it out we wished the study of the program itself, together with the opinions we consulted, to show us the best form in which to achieve our purpose. As experience teaches us, we shall modify our plan if necessary and develop the best ideas proposed to us. In the meantime, practical education and instruction, morality, and hygiene shall from the outset be the primary aims toward which we shall tirelessly direct our efforts. We claim nothing more than the desire to do as much good as possible. That is why we ask everyone to cooperate with our modest Peneca.
The children! That delight of the family, the joy of the home, shall have all our affection; and so we shall spare no effort to give them stories and jokes, scientific amusements, caricatures, and pages that are entertaining and instructive at once. Yes, before anything else, we shall strive to win the children's affection.
Parents and teachers alike will therefore find in this publication an excellent means of educating, instructing, and entertaining their children in a way that is both useful and pleasant.”
EL PENECA, no. 1, November 23, 1908.
When Emilio Vaisse took over as editor with issue no. 116, dated February 6, 1911, he immediately showed himself to be an active, modernizing manager. The text marked the beginning of a new stage. Rather than introducing himself, he announced changes straight away. He highlighted forthcoming content: a weekly philately page, stories, novels, literary competitions, and puzzles. On the same page he announced holiday contests designed to keep readers engaged. The challenge compared who was happier, questioning the notion that a vacation had to mean the seaside. Creativity was encouraged as a way of showing that happiness could also be found in Santiago in February 1911:
“READERS
WITH this issue begins a new series of EL PENECA, intended, like the previous one, to instruct and delight young and old alike.
We particularly recommend to our readers:
1. The beautiful fable ‘The Lion and the Macaque,’ by the distinguished Chilean author Don Belisario Guzmán Campos;
2. The novel Little Lord Fauntleroy, whose opening chapters, translated and specially adapted for EL PENECA, appear in this issue. It is the work of the celebrated American writer Mrs. Frances Burnett. Little Lord Fauntleroy is one of the most charming novels in the English language. Our readers will soon discover this for themselves.
Once this novel is finished, we shall begin publishing ‘The Treasure of the Inca,’ an adventure novel lavishly illustrated and written especially for EL PENECA. Several Chileans appear among the protagonists of ‘The Treasure of the Inca,’ and most of the events narrated there take place in Chile.
As always, EL PENECA will open its columns to young authors who wish to honor it with the first fruits of their literary work. Today we publish a lovely poem by the young Chilean writer Don Arturo Préndez Saldías, entitled ‘Three Longings.’
We recommend to our readers
1. The problems we set before them in this issue;
2. The literary competition, whose topics they will find further on; and
3. The weekly philately page.”
“HOLIDAY COMPETITIONS
El Peneca proposes the following topics to its readers:
First topic. Little Pedro X. is spending the summer by the sea. Life there is delightful… Tell us about it… His swims, his walks, the things he finds on the sandy shore or among the rocks by the water… Tell us everything.
Second topic. Little Rosita X. is spending the summer on the coast of… Santiago. For her, the sea is… the Mapocho River or the lagoon in the Park…
Who is happier, Pedrito or Rosita? Let Rosita tell us about her summer in Santiago and show us that one can be very happy indeed in the Chilean capital in February 1911.
NOTE: We shall publish, under the names
or pseudonyms of their authors, the best compositions sent to us, and we shall award a prize to the two that stand out most for their merit. (The compositions may be written in the form of a letter).”
EL PENECA, no. 116, February 6, 1911.
“Omer Emeth” took an energetic approach to the writing published in the magazine. He worked with a group of child contributors and directly involved both the publication and its readers. Vaisse was strict and reviewed every issue before it went to press. In issue no. 219, dated January 27, 1913, he described examining a copy aboard a city streetcar when an older man mocked him; Vaisse, in response, defended El Peneca as worthwhile reading for every age.
“Reading ‘El Peneca’…
Last Monday I was returning home by streetcar when, as we reached the Mercado stop, a newsboy approached and offered me ‘El Peneca.’ I remembered that I had not examined certain typographical details of my dear magazine closely enough, and I thought I might as well look them over there on the streetcar and lose no time. I bought ‘El Peneca’ and became absorbed in reading it. The car, its way blocked by others, did not move… Suddenly I heard laughter and looked up… Two gentlemen, one of them rather elderly, seemed to be laughing at me. ‘Why might that be?’ I wondered… I watched them out of the corner of my eye and saw the older man shake his head and look at me with pity, as though saying to his companion: ‘Just look at a gray-haired man reading El Peneca!…’
It was delightful… and, I confess, I had to struggle with myself not to ask that fault-finding old fellow: ‘What would you say, my dear sir, if you knew that not only do I read El Peneca, but I direct its publication; that every day I comb it, wash it, dress it, feed it, and correct it as though it were my own child—and that I have put more of my heart into it than into almost anything else?…’
That old man would no doubt have declared me ready for the madhouse!…
Such are human judgments!… One may be old and foolish, and foolishness in an elderly man is one of the saddest spectacles we can behold.
The true and prudent judgment would have been this: ‘Since this gentleman is reading a children's magazine with such attention, there must be more to it than meets the eye. I shall buy it and judge with my own eyes!’
If you do so, venerable colleague in years and gray hairs, you will see that El Peneca may be read with profit and pleasure not only by your children and grandchildren, but by yourself as well…
After all, you may do what so many fathers already do: read it openly in public, on the streetcar, on the train, on the benches of the Alameda and the Plaza, and everywhere else.
Do not put on such airs of solemn seriousness, sir, and remember the words of Christ: ‘Unless ye become as these little ones, ye shall not enter the kingdom of heaven…’
OMER EMETH.
EL PENECA, no. 219, January 27, 1913.
For the sixth anniversary, the editor published circulation figures for the first time: 20,000 readers. Chile's population between 1907 and 1910 was estimated at between 3,231,022 and 3,720,235 inhabitants. The text praised the contributors' efforts and named several of them:
“CHATS
Six Years of Life
Today El Peneca enters the sixth year of its life. As its friends will have noticed, it is a plump little fellow who, as he has grown older, has also grown in wisdom.
—Wisdom! That is a very weighty word for so small a personage!
But do not let the objection frighten you. Is not the ant tiny? And yet, when speaking to the lazy, did not the ancients say: ‘Look to the ant, and from it you shall learn wisdom!’
Peneca has imitated the ant. And if you doubt it, tell me whether anyone can equal him in the art of discovering and gathering contributors, boys and girls alike.
What a splendid list of girls and young people who, out of love for El Peneca, come day after day to enrich it with the first fruits of their work!
There you have Adami, María Stuardo, Bruja, Hortensia Olivares, Oscar A. Godoy, Carlos
A. Leyton, and a hundred more whose names are known and loved by all our readers.
Is it not wisdom that discovered and brought together in a single battalion contributors so intelligent and so steadfast?
At first it cost Peneca no small effort to clear the ground overrun by countless weeds. There were ‘clingy’ contributors who, for no reason whatsoever, would accept being turned away. Their anger went so far as to erupt in insults as coarse as they were anonymous…
But Peneca was not intimidated. It fought on calmly, and today, with the quarrels of former days forgotten, it continues to grow in peace and harmony with its twenty thousand readers.
They, I do not doubt, will continue to favor it with their wholehearted cooperation until, on reaching the age of reason—which is already near—El Peneca becomes the model, or if one prefers, the mirror of Chilean children.”
OMER EMETH.
EL PENECA, no. 262, November 24, 1913.
El Peneca educated (“to teach, instill morality, popular instruction”), formed citizens (“to form sound, strong, patriotic characters”), and entertained (“delight and charm, wholesome recreation”). Between 1908 and 1921, the weekly was purchased mainly for children in the more affluent sectors of Chilean society. Working families at the time had more urgent priorities. By around 1910, large numbers of children left school at an early age for lack of economic resources and were forced either to work or to roam the country's streets. Their health was generally poor, weakened by disease, malnutrition, and high mortality. Chile's political class was called upon to act in the face of this catastrophic situation. In this context, Darío Salas declared at the beginning of the century: “With these pages, [I contribute] to the health and well-being of the families of our people, whose enormous infant mortality is a disgrace to our country”.
At the beginning of the 20th century, children's schooling was limited because primary education was not compulsory. Statistics from 1915 illustrate the situation: enrollment in primary school reached 132,978 pupils, while secondary education enrolled only 10,649. El Peneca, founded in 1908, became one more force encouraging awareness of the need to educate Chilean children.
Beginning in the 1920s, Chile entered a significant process of sociopolitical and economic development. El Peneca gradually attracted hundreds of new young readers whose families, benefiting from growing economic stability, could afford periodical publications for their children. Production and distribution expanded considerably. The impact could be seen in the steady growth of its print run.
In 1921, Elvira Santa Cruz became editor and, with the backing of Editorial Zig-Zag, undertook the ambitious task of distributing the magazine to the most remote corners of Chile. For more than five decades it was the country's most popular children's weekly, reaching a circulation in the 1940s and 1950s of nearly 240,000 copies a week. Families read it together; copies were lent and exchanged at kiosks specializing in magazines and secondhand books, where they could even be rented for modest sums.
As a point of reference for understanding its reach, experts estimated in 1970 that a single newspaper copy was read by at least three people. This observation makes it possible to compare Chilean demographic statistics with the weekly's circulation figures, providing more objective parameters for assessing its social and cultural impact.
The first period runs from November 23, 1908, to January 31, 1921. Its evolution in content and editorial style was directly tied to two personalities: Enrique Blanchard-Chessi and Emilio Vaisse.
Enrique Blanchard-Chessi (1870-1941), bibliographer, historian, and writer, served as editor from the very first issue, dated November 23, 1908, until January 30, 1911 (issue no. 115), as he himself recorded in his farewell. His tenure followed an unusual editorial strategy: although he exercised effective leadership, he chose not to appear by name, using instead the generic title “The Editor.” The decision suggested that El Peneca operated as a collective effort under his leadership, where the work of the team mattered more than individual personalities. Because the publication was new, this approach probably sought to consolidate the editorial project without centering it on a single figure, focusing instead on the quality of the content produced together.
The first time his signature appeared explicitly was in issue no. 26, dated May 17, 1909. This extraordinary full-color number was dedicated to “Arturo Prat and his companions in glory on the 30th anniversary of their heroism.” Here Blanchard-Chessi revealed his work as both writer and historian.
Blanchard-Chessi joined the National Library of Chile in 1913. His time at El Peneca was brief but intense. He knew how to combine strategic anonymity with authorship at key moments, leaving behind a collaborative working model that shaped the beginnings of a weekly that would become important in Chilean children's cultural history.
The magazine began with 16 pages. From its earliest issues it included sections such as “News from El Peneca,” which evolved over time to incorporate more educational and entertainment ideas. Other sections included “Elementary Drawing Course,” “One and Two Stories,” “Practical Language Teaching,” and “Precocious Children.” Illustrated stories occupied half a page, with narration presented in lines beneath the panels (a format known as a “caption” or “didascalia”). Other notable sections included “Maestro Chambeco,” “Scientific Amusements,” “A Page for Photographs,” “Handicrafts,” and “Elements of Carpentry.”
Issue no. 116 (February 6, 1911) removed the subtitle “Illustrated Weekly for Children” from the cover, leaving only the name El Peneca.
In its early years, the magazine's spelling still retained features inherited from the previous century. On the one hand, it gradually moved toward modern standards, regularizing, for example, the use of the letters g and j (as in colejio, which later became colegio). On the other hand, the earliest issues still contained graphic archaisms, such as the use of i as the conjunction where modern Spanish uses y (for example, llamo a su hermana i le dijo) and the use of x in forms such as esperimentar, later standardized as experimentar. These practices eventually disappeared as academic spelling conventions became consolidated over the course of the 20th century.
The “El Peneca Mail” section appeared in the second issue. It encouraged spontaneous writing as a formative exercise and created a community of reader-correspondents. At the same time, it rejected adult interference and sought to protect participants from open ridicule by other readers:
“RESPONSES TO THE COMPETITION
We have received many answers to the question of what one would do with one hundred pesos. We shall publish them as space in our pages permits, and we shall keep our promise to award a prize.
We should note that the answers are published exactly as received—that is, with the same wording and spelling used by our young correspondents.
One observation. We have realized that a few letters—very few, fortunately—have been written with the intervention
of grown-ups. The merit of these publications lies in the child's spontaneous effort and in the satisfaction he experiences from completing his own work. The encouragement lies in that very satisfaction, not in rivalry, which we shall seek to avoid. Nor should anyone make fun of children for the mistakes they make. They should be corrected, but never punished with ridicule. If a child already knew everything, there would be no need to study.”
EL PENECA, no. 2, November 30, 1908.
Issue no. 6, dated December 28, 1908, added the sections “Charades”, “Logogriphs”, “Rebuses,” “Contributions,” “Correspondence,” “Literature,” and “Miscellany.” These gave children a valuable opportunity to share their experiences and knowledge through clever pieces and short essays. The interaction encouraged the creative spirit of young readers and offered a unique, pioneering cultural space for playful and inventive learning:
“LITERATURE
TWO HEARTS
RAÚL and Alfredo were two little boys who were friends and neighbors.
The first was exceedingly good and had an excellent heart, especially toward the poor. He possessed the beginnings of true Christian charity, inspired by the example he had seen at home. Whenever his parents gave him money, he never spent it all on himself; and whenever a beggar passed his house, Raúl was the first to offer alms. As a result, he was loved and blessed by all the poor people whom he helped with his small allowance.
Alfredo was the opposite: a boy with a very hard heart and blameworthy intentions toward the unfortunate; he mocked them.
Toward evening on a hot summer day, while Raúl and Alfredo were standing at the door of Alfredo's house, a beautiful woman appeared before them, her face partly covered by a widow's dress. She approached the boys and, in a pleading voice so gentle that it sounded like a cry of pain, said:
An alms, for the love of God! I am a poor widow with many children waiting at home for me to bring them bread.
Raúl was moved at once. He took the little allowance his parents had given him from his pocket and placed it in the unfortunate woman's hands. With every sign of gratitude, she quickly went on her way, while Alfredo, smiling contemptuously, mocked his friend's act of generosity and then said goodbye to him and went inside.
It was already time for supper. Alfredo and all his brothers sat down at the table, and imagine his surprise when he recognized in his mother the beggar woman he had seen only moments before—still wearing her disguise.
His mother then told him that she had heard that her son Alfredo was extremely cruel to the poor: that he mocked them, making sport of their misfortune, and failed to help those unhappy people even when he was able to do so. She had disguised herself as a beggar to learn for herself whether something she had found unbelievable was really true. She then rebuked him severely for his hard heart and asked him to change his ways and follow the fine example of his friend Raúl, who possessed such a kind heart.”
MARTA GALINDO IBAÑEZ.
EL PENECA, no. 44, September 20, 1909.
In issue no. 79 (May 23, 1910), the “Chats and Messages” section announced: “This section will publish messages from children who wish to communicate with one another. They must be very short, clear, and respectful, in keeping with the character of the magazine.” Each message was assigned a registration number:
“CHATS AND MESSAGES
67. Mr. Leopoldo Zepeda. How are you, dear classmate Leopoldo? How is your health, and how are your studies at Liceo Miguel Luis Amunátegui? You must already be in the second year of humanities. I wish you a thousand successes. Goodbye, my friend, and do write back. Marcial S. N. Calderón.
68. Mr. Luis R. Correa. Your friend A. Cesáreo Salcent hopes that on the 21st of this month, your birthday, you spent a very happy day in the company of your dear parents and brothers and sisters.
69. Mr. Inédito, Concepción. What a beautiful and elevated thought you dedicate to us—but in what an ambiguous sense! Do you think we are strangers to that path, the path of noble thoughts? Miss Aura joins a great heart to her intelligence, so I cannot believe that trivialities could occupy her mind!… As for me—who knows! In any case, thank you! Yours attentively and faithfully, Araucana.
70. Miss Liguana. Dear little friend: I am still studying very diligently at the Isabel Le Brun de Pinochet school. I thought you had forgotten me, but this little letter has made me put that idea aside. Are you feeling better? Your friend, María Castro A., sends her regards.
71. Mr. Carlos Ahumada J., Valparaíso.—Dear Sir: I was greatly pleased to read the complimentary letter you addressed to me through El Peneca, in which you expressed admiration for my humble articles and encouraged me to pursue with even greater enthusiasm the literary path I have begun in the columns of this magazine.
I sincerely thank you for your advice and good wishes, and you may be assured that they have not been received with indifference. Yours very attentively and faithfully, Carlos E. Peterson.”
EL PENECA, no. 84, June 27, 1910.
In issue no. 3 (December 7, 1908), “El Peneca Mail” asked: “What would you do with one hundred pesos?” The answers were numbered so that the best could receive prizes. The desire to take part and see one's name in print reflected each child's wish to belong and to participate in a shared cultural feeling that united this community of readers. The question was not “what would you buy?” but “what would you do?” It invited the child to think about the common good. This was solidarity taught through practice: the money—the hundred pesos—became a tool for imagining a better world. By assembling a committee of educators to evaluate the answers, the magazine built a bridge between the world of childhood and the academic-pedagogical world, while ensuring that the prize followed formative criteria. In early-20th-century Chile, with all its inequalities, the weekly was planting the idea that children, even the humblest among them, could dream about what they might do with one hundred pesos.
“News from El Peneca
The One-Hundred-Peso Competition.
The following distinguished ladies and gentlemen have kindly agreed to serve on the commission that will report to us on the merits of the ten best answers submitted to the competition: Mrs. Mercedes Villarreal de Briceño; Dr. Eloísa Díaz; Miss Mercedes Montt (of Santiago College); Mrs. Mercedes B. de Turenne (director of La Ilustración school); Mrs. Fanny de Retamal Balboa (director of the Catholic Kindergarten); the Reverend Father Ramón Mejía (of San Pedro Nolasco School); and Messrs. Fidelis P. del Solar, Miguel Ángel Gargari (director of La Prensa), Heraclio Fernández (director of El Chileno), and Enrique Barrenechea, director of the Library of the Instituto Nacional and professor at the Instituto Pedagógico. In our next issue we shall inform readers of what these respected persons have reported to us.
We trust that both the result of the competition and the way in which we have proceeded will leave everyone convinced of our complete impartiality.
The prize will therefore be awarded with complete fairness.”
EL PENECA, no. 11, February 1, 1909.
Answers arrived without pause at the Zig-Zag offices, so a closing date had to be established. Children received prizes according to the points awarded by the committee. A schoolboy from Valparaíso whose mother was ill and without resources received special recognition: he was given cash, a savings account, and books:
“THE ONE-HUNDRED-PESO COMPETITION
The winner in first place, then, is the little boy N. MOISÉS WITEMBG of Valparaíso, who gave, word for word, the following answer—so ingeniously inspired as only a child could be, and so expressive and affectionate toward his mother:
Sir, what I would do, since my mama is very sick in the sanatorium at Los Andes and they have burned one of her lungs, I would buy clothes for myself and go see my mama and buy her lots of lungs so she would never run out, and I would buy my school things and shoes so I could go to school. N. Moisés Witembg. Valparaíso.
His beautiful heart has won him the victory.
We have decided to reward him with the books El Príncipe Coqueluche, La ciencia i el Hombre, and a Historia de Chile; with a Caja de Ahorros savings passbook containing twenty pesos for a six-month term; and with thirty pesos in cash.”
EL PENECA, no. 15, March 1, 1909.
The story “A New Arrival” described children walking to school in spring, the season when nature renews itself. It mentioned “…one of those poor little rotitos who from a very young age must work to earn a living, and whom the Chilean public has christened suplementeros [newsboys]…” The newsboy was also a child, but one of those who worked instead of attending school. This time he brought the good news and, in a sense, became a heralding angel, like spring itself. The question “is it candy?” was entirely childlike: anything new and desirable could only be something sweet, something to enjoy. And the newsboy's answer, with his colloquial iñor (señor, “sir”), announced that it was El Peneca:
“A NEW ARRIVAL
On a cheerful spring morning, one of those mornings when nature seems determined to show off all its beauty, several classmates and I were on our way to school when one of those poor little rotitos passed us—children who from a very early age must work to earn their living, and whom the Chilean public has christened suplementeros, although beneath their little arms they carry every product of the Chilean and foreign press. The newsboy (who gave me the idea for this story) passed by calling out his interesting merchandise. After we had heard him shout the names—so familiar to us—of all the newspapers published in this capital, a new name suddenly reached our ears. Driven by curiosity, we all surrounded the newsboy at once, and the oldest among us raised his voice to ask:
What other newspaper are you selling?
It isn't a newspaper, young sir.
Then what is it? Is it candy?
—It's a new magazine that just came out today.
What's it called?
—EL PENECA, sir.
—EL PENECA! we all shouted at once. Let us see! Let us see! And we crowded around the poor little fellow, for we were all eager to read the magazine we had heard for so many days would be devoted to us.”
Jilberto PEPE GIRON.
EL PENECA, no. 2, November 30, 1908.
The first-anniversary editorial (November 22, 1909) reaffirmed the magazine's formative mission toward Chilean children in terms of “being entertained and learning,” through reading that would develop their abilities, nourish their intelligence, and encourage independent written expression:
“The Anniversary of EL PENECA
(November 23, 1908 – November 23, 1909)
A happy moment it surely was when the idea occurred to us for this publication devoted exclusively to tender young minds—to those who are only beginning life, or who have crossed no more than its smiling borders and still have before them horizons and prospects of the greatest beauty… We wish the readers for whom this publication is intended to amuse themselves and learn something as well; we want them to become accustomed to developing their abilities and nourishing their intelligence with wholesome reading, always moral, because whoever follows bad inclinations inevitably falls; we want them to write for themselves and, through perseverance, eventually become distinguished writers who bring honor to our homeland.”
EL PENECA, no. 53, November 22, 1909.
Blanchard-Chessi held an integrated view of education, national development, and civic ethics, with particular emphasis on hygiene and access to knowledge. The titles of his essays reveal a clear instructional program: “Tuberculosis” (public health), “Bad Seed” (prevention of vice), “Bad Habit” (social conduct), “Children's Libraries” (access to culture), “Love of Country” (national identity), “Chilean Writers” (appreciation of local literature), “Three Plagues” (urgent social problems), and “How We Became Powerful” (national progress). Tuberculosis was presented as a social problem rather than an individual one. In “On Behalf of the Child Population,” Dr. Maximiliano Valenzuela Basterrica viewed infant mortality as a national emergency and the right of thousands of children to live as a responsibility of the state:
“ON BEHALF OF THE CHILD POPULATION
SOME months ago, while looking through a North American newspaper, we came across the following report:
‘The Municipality of Chicago recently approved an expenditure of 10,000 dollars to provide the city's physicians with all the resources necessary for them to devote their efforts to the study of children's diseases.’
This was followed by an extensive commentary on the attention that the Government and Municipalities ought to devote to everything related to childhood disease.
The columns of our newspapers have never recorded anything similar. Quite the opposite: the news they contain continually draws attention only to the enormous and ever-increasing figures for infant mortality.
Despite the obvious growth of these evils, whose origin can moreover be identified with complete precision, the negligence of our authorities does not change in the slightest. Certain private citizens, moved by philanthropic instincts, have created institutions intended to combat some of the many causes behind these evils; unfortunately, they have encountered such discouraging indifference from the authorities that many of those institutions have collapsed.
In our country these efforts cannot be left to individual initiative alone; they require the support of public authority.
To learn what measures are used in other countries in such cases, we need not look to Europe for examples. We need only observe what happens in Argentina, where numerous institutions operate under government protection and together constitute a genuine service of public hygiene and health for children.
It is time for Chile, too, to give attention to these problems.”
Dr. Don Maximiliano Valenzuela Basterrica.
Director of the School of Dentística.
EL PENECA, no. 18, March 22, 1909.
Through its “National Gallery” section, the magazine established a visual canon of illustrated Chilean identity. Its method combined brief biographical profiles with photographic portraits. The formula turned the traditional album of national heroes into a mechanism for children's political socialization, using images to encourage identification with an educated, exemplary elite considered worthy of imitation, as was characteristic of early-20th-century Chile. Among the featured figures were Don Víctor José Victorino Lastarria (politician and writer), Don Alberto Solar (military officer and writer), Doña Mercedes Marín de Solar (educator and poet), Don Antonio Espiñeira (writer and farmer), and Don Andrés Bello (Venezuelan educator, philologist, poet, and diplomat who drafted Chile's Civil Code).
“Let Us Be Good!” was a philosophical and moral gem that clearly distilled the essence the magazine sought to plant in its readers. A German teacher, trained in the European philosophical tradition, offered this lesson to Chilean children. Acting rightly and being good gave dignity to every human being. Childhood was the crucial moment: what was learned then did not disappear but remained engraved in the spirit like a furrow. Dignity came from goodness, not from possessing power or wealth. Dr. Wilhelm Mann wrote that human beings fulfilled and completed their own existence to the extent that they chose the good:
“LET US BE GOOD!
WE are born into life without awareness; but as we grow and our faculties develop, we acquire the means to judge the merit or fault of our actions.
When we possess reason and know how to use it, we do nothing without our will determining our acts. Reason (the power to know), free will (the power to decide), and the will itself (the power to act) then become, once we are conscious, the responsible arbiters of every deed we perform, good or bad, at every moment of our lives.
If we act as good people, desiring what is good and striving to do only good, then, perhaps without intending it and often without even thinking about it, we feel the sweetest satisfaction: our conscience is at peace, and something strange and beyond understanding rewards our just conduct.
But if, on the contrary, carried away by passion, made bad by habit, hungry for power and riches—in short, ambitious—we struggle to obtain what we desire without measuring our actions, without caring for goodness or justice, without weighing the consequences, and throw ourselves into doing evil in order falsely to gain some good, ah! then our conscience is left disturbed; remorse bites into our very being; and sooner or later we come to regret having been bad and having done wrong.
…Forward! Let us struggle for progress and for good; let us seek happiness; let us work to make ourselves great and fortunate, as far as nature allows, and remorse shall never punish us.
Forward! Forward!
Let us be good!
Whoever is good shall never have cause to regret the deeds of his life!”
EL PENECA, no. 22, April 18, 1909.
DR. WILHELM MANN
Rector of the Liceo de Aplicación, attached to the Instituto Pedagógico. We should all recognize Dr. Mann as an eminent figure in education and the sciences.
After five months, issues were frequently selling out, leading the publisher to ask readers to subscribe for six months or a year in order to guarantee their copies. Sales statistics from the period are not known, but the weekly itself referred to its commercial success—an assertion that Emilio Vaisse later called into question. El Peneca no. 70 (March 21, 1910) announced: “complete sets are no longer available; individual issues are sold, except for nos. 1, 12, 14, 25, 26, 43, 44, 47, 50, 51, and 60, which are sold out.”
El Peneca was conceived as a publication that wanted to “listen to its readers” and that handed a measure of editorial power to children. It did not call them “consumers” or “subscribers”; it called them “supporters.” Readers were invited to do the work of an editor: to think about structure and about the balance between text and image. It was, in effect, a collective editorial workshop. The questions put to readers included: “Which sections do you like best?” “Are you interested in stories, verse, philately, music, caricatures, history, drawing, science, the arts, games of wit?” And above all, it asked: what did they want to read?
“El Peneca Mail
A Great Surprise in the Next Issue!
Invitation to Our Readers
EL PENECA, wishing to please its readers as far as possible, invites them to propose by letter a program for the publication that would suit their tastes, distributing among its 16 pages the literary material and articles they believe would be of interest.
In this way, we hope to know our supporters' tastes even better and, above all, to satisfy the wishes of the majority.
Which sections do you like best? Are you interested in stories, verse, philately, music, caricatures, history, drawing, science, the arts, games of wit? Would you like many pages of readers' contributions? Should serialized stories be short or long? What new sections should be opened? These are the questions our readers should solve by preparing a proposed contents page.
We therefore ask you to propose a program that includes the sections the publication already has, identifies new ones, and indicates whether each section should be permanent or appear once or several times a month.
For greater clarity, you may arrange the contents page by page, estimating the length of the articles and the size of the illustrations.
We believe that in this way we shall at least partly realize our readers' ideal. We therefore wish to know whether you are happy with EL PENECA—or what would make you happy with it.
Correspondence should be addressed to the Editor of EL PENECA, Santiago, Teatinos 666.
Our thanks in advance.”
EL PENECA, no. 24, May 3, 1909.
French and English served as bridges to other cultures. Chilean children learned that the world was vast and that they could explore it through the weekly. Knowledge meant building, creating, experimenting, making mistakes, and trying again. The magazine fed children's natural curiosity. History was presented as a tapestry of exemplary lives. National heroes were people who had faced hardship, fought for ideals, and helped found Chile.
Enrique Blanchard-Chessi saw children as the seeds of a freer, more creative, and more just society. He was an innovator, but he did not challenge the status quo of the Chilean elite or question the political system of his day. His formative project therefore operated within the boundaries of the society in which he lived.
Enrique Blanchard-Chessi's farewell address in issue no. 115, dated January 30, 1911, emphasized his role as an educational guide in keeping with “religious moralism.” He insisted on goodness as the path to happiness and warned against vices such as gambling and alcohol. From childhood onward, he sought to instill a “firm energy” capable of resisting destructive behavior. One of the values that mattered most to him was goodness: “I wanted you to be good.”
He acknowledged with regret that limitations of space and time had prevented him from including every young talent, and he spoke movingly of the charitable campaigns led by children, especially during Chile's Centennial in 1910. He promoted Chilean history as an essential part of education, cultivating a sense of national identity. Comparing himself to a “setting sun” withdrawing from the sky, he asked that some of his light remain in readers' memories. He assured them that the magazine was being left “in good hands,” underscoring the strength of the project that had been created. More than a farewell, the speech was an editorial testament that expressed his conviction that the children's press should entertain, but also form conscious and compassionate citizens:
“Farewell from the Editor of El Peneca (1908-1911)
Don Enrique Blanchard-Chessi
Santiago, Chile, January 27, 1911
I wanted you to have a publication that was both enjoyable and useful, and El Peneca earned your most spontaneous affection. I have been its Editor from its foundation until today, and I have learned how precious the innocent and spontaneous affection of children can be: it is the most sincere affection of all.
I wanted you to be good, because I know that only by being good can one be happy, despite all the sorrows and reverses of life. With my heart in my hand, I tried to advise you always to incline toward what is good. I showed you the consequences of bad inclinations and, with all my soul, called your attention to the grave evils and irreparable misfortunes caused by gambling, drink, and every kind of vice, so that from childhood onward you might grow accustomed to avoiding them with firm resolve and determined will.
I advised you, then, as best I could.
I also wanted you yourselves to work on the publication, so that you would have a living and pleasant incentive; and it was you, under my constant guidance, who made, one might say, each and every issue of El Peneca.
I regret, however, that I could not encourage all of you: the space available in the publication and the limits of time made it impossible. My desire was gradually to make known every young intelligence that came to me, but many—so many—efforts have unfortunately remained forgotten, waiting for a turn that never arrived.
I also wanted you to experience the greatest satisfaction of all: doing good. And with the generosity with which you helped me, we carried out—what a happy moment in my life!—an act of charity that became an example. How many poor little children we were able to give at least some small measure of joy during the Centennial of our Homeland!
I wanted, too, for you always to feel a sincere and intense affection for our Chile, and I tried to make its beautiful history known to you.
I wanted much more—but the end of the journey has overtaken me.
I leave you now, but do not lose heart: El Peneca remains in good hands. Evening has come only for me.
Not everyone dies when the sun goes down. And if I was for you like the rising sun of dawn, I shall now be only a setting sun, slowly withdrawing and wrapping itself in a thin mantle of sadness…
But if some glimmer of the light I reflected has remained in your hearts, do not forget me; and be certain that I too, dearest readers and contributors, shall always remember you with affection.”
Enrique BLANCHARD-CHESSI.
EL PENECA, no. 115, January 30, 1911.
With these moving words, Enrique Blanchard-Chessi said goodbye to his “penecas.” Editorial Zig-Zag had already chosen his successor: an unexpected figure for a children's magazine, but one well known in intellectual circles and already mentioned in issue no. 2, where his praise for the weekly's first issue in the pages of El Mercurio had been noted. He was a French priest, a militant monarchist, and an El Mercurio columnist: Emilio Vaisse.
Blanchard-Chessi's departure did not represent a break but an evolution. If the founder had been the architect of a reading community built on affection and participation, Vaisse would become the rigorous pedagogue who refined the character of that community. Where one had taught goodness as the road to happiness, the other would demand it as a moral duty. Both shared the same faith in El Peneca as an instrument for civic formation.
Emilio Vaisse (1860-1935) edited the weekly from issue no. 116 (February 6, 1911) through issue no. 637 (January 31, 1921). His arrival was announced as follows:
“New Direction of El Peneca
Beginning with the next issue, responsibility for this magazine will be assumed, in its literary section, by Mr. Emilio Vaisse, whose pseudonym OMER EMETH is widely known to the public, and in its artistic section by Mr. Julio Bozo, the distinguished illustrator who signs under the pseudonym MOUSTACHE.”
THE ZIG-ZAG COMPANY”
Vaisse was a singular man: a French priest, monarchist, and critic of modern democracy. Born in Languedoc in 1860, he arrived in Chile as a missionary in 1886. His first posting was San Pedro de Atacama, where he combined pastoral work with teaching. He was also a columnist for El Mercurio, a secondary-school teacher, and a lecturer at the Catholic University. He died in Santiago in 1935. His thinking was influenced by the Action Française movement. He criticized universal suffrage and the French Republic, blaming them for “calamities” such as rationalism and liberalism. He defended traditional order and religion as pillars of society. His pseudonym “Omer Emeth” (from Hebrew, “Bearer of Truth”) reflected his understanding of truth as moral dogma. For Vaisse, democracy was not an ideal form of government, and he openly declared himself anti-democratic, stating:
“The evils of this century are due to the French Republic, to democracy, to universal suffrage and all its train of free inquiry, rationalism, and other calamities.”
Yet within El Peneca he knew how to adapt. During his tenure he introduced Catholic values through stories with lessons about charity, honesty, and love of country, while still respecting the magazine's plural character. His moral emphasis did not diminish its popularity; on the contrary, it consolidated it. Although he personally rejected democracy, he directed a publication that encouraged children's participation as part of a process of civic formation. He adopted modernizing tendencies and shifted the magazine toward the everyday and the practical: “The evils of this century are due to the French Republic, to democracy, to universal suffrage and all its train of free inquiry, rationalism, and other calamities.” Written in another context, this statement was never explicitly transferred into El Peneca, where a constructive, educational tone prevailed. “Omer Emeth” was an unusual editor for a children's publication: a monarchist priest in a republic, a critic of modernity at the head of an innovative weekly. He knew how to adapt his convictions to an already established cultural project.
On February 6, 1911, Vaisse added the “Contents” section, a detailed index on the first page. Maintained until 1913, it reflected his interest in bringing order and transparency to the magazine by laying out the contents of each issue:
“CONTENTS:
To Our Readers – A Tiny ‘Blériot’ (a plan for building a model airplane. L.C.)
airplane for children – Niagara at Home – The Lion and the Macaque, a fable by Don Belisario Guzmán Campos – The Intelligence of Animals: Thieving… Rats – A Lesson in Natural History (contribution) – Useless Segundito (caricature) – The Cruelty of Von Tinaja (caricature) – Three Longings (poem) – Little Lord Fauntleroy (serial) – Philately Page – Silent Story (Chinese caricature).”
EL PENECA, no. 116, February 6, 1911.
Vaisse established clear rules for contributors. Not everything sent to the magazine would be published. He demanded quality and originality. On one occasion, he answered firmly a young man who complained that his writings had not appeared: “A young man from Valparaíso (we shall not name him, so as not to leave a permanent record of his conceit) demands an explanation—rather threateningly—for our failure to publish ‘his poems, stories, charades,’ etc., etc. Such early fertility—and such nerve!”
“We shall not name him, so as not to leave a permanent record of his conceit”: there was an act of mercy in the decision not to expose the boy to public ridicule, but also an implicit lesson—his attitude was an example of what not to do. Contributors were asked to sign with their first and last names and to state their age and school year. Vaisse wanted to judge fairly while also protecting children from vanity:
“EDITORIAL
A young man from Valparaíso (we shall not name him, so as not to leave a permanent record of his conceit) demands an explanation—in a threatening tone—for our failure to publish ‘his poems, stories, charades,’ etc., etc. Such early fertility—and such nerve!
Let it therefore be said once and for all: we shall publish only what deserves to be published, and we reserve the right beforehand to correct, cut, shorten, and even… suppress.
El Peneca exists to encourage the instruction and education of its readers. It is therefore its duty to examine very closely the writings its contributors send as the first fruits of their talent. In this way, publication of those writings—while instructive and educational for all—will foster genuine talent, and not merely the vanity of their authors.
P.S. We ask each of our contributors to sign communications with first and last name (a pseudonym is not enough unless accompanied by the true signature). They should also add the author's age and school class or year. With this information we shall be better able to assess contributions and, if necessary, communicate with contributors by letter.”
EL PENECA, no. 117, February 13, 1911.
The editor noticed that the young contributors' writing often showed no evidence of drafts or revision. He wanted to instill discipline and intellectual humility. He softened his criticism with the affectionate phrase “my little Penecas.” He invoked Blaise Pascal and Jacques-Bénigne Bossuet—giants of 17th-century French thought and prose. If such geniuses could “cross out nine” of every ten words, how could children imagine they had no need to draft? Vaisse contrasted the wisdom of the seasoned writer, who has “thought, read, and written so much,” with the inexperience of childhood. The lesson was that good writing did not spring from sudden inspiration but from craft and work. His closing sentence sounded almost like an order—“they shall correct their writing ten times”—but it was the firmness of a teacher who knew that making them work harder was a way of helping them reach higher:
“DRAFTS?
PART of my task—and not the least interesting part—is reading not only the letters sent to me by the young readers of El Peneca, but also the articles that so often trail behind them like the tail of a kite. It is curious and instructive reading, for it opens, so to speak, a private window through which I can watch, as from a theater box, the tiny dramas and little comedies of childhood vanity and self-love.
Dear readers, I intend to tell you at least something of what I see every day in those theaters that are children's souls.
My first observation: the children—and especially the girls—who write for El Peneca do not deign to make drafts. Can it be?… I know old writers who never send a newspaper a piece that has been entirely improvised. Without much presumption, they might venture to improvise and let imagination and pen run free. They are so old; they know their craft; they have observed, thought, read, and written so much!… Yet they do not improvise. If only you could see, my little Penecas, the manuscripts of Pascal and Bossuet in the National Library of Paris! What a fine lesson in modesty you would receive, O young improvisers and… improvised writers! Those great men would write ten words and sometimes strike out nine—when they did not drown an entire freshly written line in ink…
Tell me, then: is it natural that you should expect, in a single attempt, without study, reflection, or correction of any kind, to write well—to write things worthy of appearing in print?
No! It is not natural… Only swollen and unhealthy vanity—or perhaps simply inexperience—could make you dare so much.
Conclusion: from now on, our Peneca contributors shall correct their writing ten times before sending it to this, their most affectionate servant.”
OMER EMETH.
EL PENECA, no. 119, February 27, 1911.
Blanchard-Chessi had created the “National Gallery,” with profiles of major Chilean figures. Vaisse replaced it with the “Chats,” which took a more everyday and spiritual approach. These columns addressed education, behavior, and current affairs. They were written by Vaisse and his assistant Benjamín Oviedo under the pseudonym “Magister.” Later, other young writers joined them.
In one of his “Chats,” Oviedo wrote about discouragement and the coldness of the heart. He did not deny the world's pain, but he rejected surrender. He ended with an appeal to keep the fire of dreams alive:
“CHATS
Beneath the stern face of the heavens, it spreads its formidable dominion among shadows and mists. Like a pale ghost, it hovers over nature, numb with cold and sorrow. It shakes its snowy wings, and at its spell everything suddenly comes to a halt; life itself seems overcome.
Winter is only one aspect of this specter, but one of its most terrible. Cold is the cruelest power among the elements.
Do you not feel all your limbs freeze? Do you not feel the blood freezing in your veins? Do you not feel your will itself grow cold, leaving you paralyzed? Do you not feel life slowly slipping away, beyond your power to stop it, your will already dead? And do you not feel the dreadful icy kiss of death touching you and wrapping you in a shroud of cold in which you will remain imprisoned forever?
Death is Cold.
Fear is Cold.
Pain is Cold!…
Yes, Pain is cold—the most dreadful and terrible cold of all: the cold of the heart.
Pity those whose hearts have already felt the kiss of the specter's icy lips.
In the wasteland of those spirits, the Roses of Dream will never bloom again, nor will the green Boughs of Hope return to life.
A breath of Death, Cold passes by leaving desolation and death in its wake; and all that can be heard is the sound of dreams collapsing amid the dark cataclysms of the spirit.
The cold of the heart is an early death. It is the murderous daughter that kills enthusiasm before it kills the body. It is the eternal night of distrust and skepticism settling over the flowered fields of youth.
Sursum corda!
Lift up your heart; do not let yourselves be wrapped in the shroud of doubt and sorrow. Let your limbs twist with cold if they must, but never allow the fire of dreams that burns deep within the soul to go out.”
MAGISTER.
EL PENECA, no. 294, July 6, 1914.
Oviedo also explored nostalgia for schooldays. He compared the school to a hive where bees make honey together. Adult life, by contrast, meant dispersal and solitude. The message was clear: school is a protected rehearsal; life itself is the challenge:
“CHATS
THE HIVES
With the fresh breezes March brings us, the school doors are about to open. And the whole noisy swarm of boys and girls will once again fill the silent chambers of those hives, where they—bees that have sipped from flowers—will make the honey that is to nourish their own souls.
Lost among the passersby, I watch that teeming procession fill the streets when school lets out. How far away seem the days when I too walked there among those chattering schoolboys, my books under my arm, debating whether one teacher or another was kind or severe!
No celebration was awaited by me with greater eagerness than the reopening of classes. A sudden joy stirred my spirit, and after the days of vacation I returned to the classroom with a pounding heart, full of curiosity…
I was going to discover what new classmates I would have; I was going to learn what new friends I could count on in the agitations of school life. And I was almost always satisfied: beside the faces already familiar from previous years, which greeted me with affectionate smiles, I saw new faces whose eyes looked at me with the same deep curiosity with which I looked at them.
Then came those days of closeness, when we all felt united by a common duty and by the same tasks. A noble desire to excel encouraged us, and it was a powerful spur to our studies.
Those days of innocent jubilation and simple joys have passed. The whirlwind of life has scattered us like autumn leaves, some in one direction, others in another…
How different our friendships are now!
We are no longer the bees quietly making the honey that will nourish us; we no longer work in peaceful hives beneath the paternal watch of our teachers. Now left to ourselves, with no guide but our own judgment, we follow the road almost alone…
Happy are you, bees who sip from flowers to make the honey that will nourish you! May you leave your hives with strong wings and hearts filled with the honey you have made—and may you never be forced to use your sting!…”
MAGISTER.
EL PENECA, no. 433, March 5, 1917.
The contributor “Equis” valued sincere emotion and spontaneity of feeling, believing that the language of the heart possessed a nobility all its own. Gratitude, humility, pain as purification, and admiration for noble souls all carried formative value for him. In this piece he experimented with an inner dialogue between a timid voice and a more determined one; the latter ultimately prevailed, claiming the right to express love and recognition without fear of imperfection. For “Equis,” sincerity of heart mattered more than empty rhetoric.
“CHATS
GRATITUDE
—Yes, my dear little heart… I am deeply troubled by my inability to give outward expression to your noble feelings; an inability that makes me deserve your reproaches, which, loving though they are, bring so many tears to my eyes…
Do not regret the tears, for each one washes away a stain. Yes… pain purifies… it elevates and ennobles souls… and their souls are like that: great, noble, and pure. The sublime shines from them, and its kindly light reaches even the dark abyss where we humble hearts lie; it makes us tremble with gratitude and love for them… and in the fire kindled by those feelings, our shyness melts away, and we burn to tell them: “Thank you; a thousand thanks we owe you, noble hearts who descend from your heights to your humblest companions and make us feel sweet and holy emotions.” Yes, they are holy emotions because they console and correct us, and because they spring from souls purified in the sublime crucible of pain… and you forbid me to show them this gratitude…
—No, my beloved little heart, I do not forbid it; but in what form will you tell them what you feel? In a style stripped of riches and rich only in poverty?
—The form in which I present my feelings matters nothing to them, for they seek only sincerity; and words that come from me are always heard by them. Truth and love are beautiful precisely because they are simple… and they love and they are true… and that is why the magazine in which they print their ideas is so dear to you, because I have taught you to love what is good… But now your cowardice no longer matters to me… hearts, too, have their own language, and we speak to one another even when an abyss separates us. From my poor refuge I shall tell them how great and true is the gratitude and love I feel for all those who scatter the fragrance of their souls across the beloved pages of El Peneca… And they will hear me; and I… shall remain grateful and content.”
EQUIS.
EL PENECA, no. 555, July 7, 1919.
The “Gallery of the Penecas” remained. It published photographs and portraits of children and families from different social strata, including newsboys and workers. Young readers—penecas of every age—appeared in its photographs. Through urban and rural scenes, businesses and homes, images of cities, countryside, parks, avenues, and domestic spaces, the magazine presented a diverse Chile.
Between 1911 and 1921, the “Literary Competition” section featured stories, fables, and chronicles with moral lessons, often accompanied by illustrations by Chilean and foreign artists. The period marked a transition toward shorter, more practical writing and notably greater participation by children. Their work was evaluated by the editorial staff and, ultimately, by editor Emilio Vaisse.
Contributions increased considerably, eventually filling two complete pages. The “Miscellany” section gathered a wide variety of subjects, written mostly by children: current events, opinions, and essays.
Competitions were organized for “charades,” “numerical logogriphs”, “riddles,” and “anagrams”, while the “Pastimes” section published the solutions and named the winning penecas as “solvers.”
During the same period, illustrated stories and comics became increasingly important, created mainly by Chilean cartoonists. It was a formative period for a major wave of artists who would later shape Chilean magazines. In those early years, Editorial Zig-Zag succeeded in bringing together, under contract or commission, some of the country's finest journalists, writers, illustrators, and intellectuals.
Among the notable contributors was Ramón Arminio Laval Alvial, a Chilean folklorist and intellectual who contributed numerous stories and fables, both original works and pieces he had collected.
The period from 1908 to 1921 laid the foundations of El Peneca. It established a solid, well-defined structure of sections that would remain practically unchanged until the magazine closed. The editorial project reconciled its educational purpose—expressed through three central functions of children's literature: educating, forming character, and entertaining—with its fundamentally commercial nature. Within that balance, the magazine planted the roots of a citizenship united by patriotism, forging from childhood a sense of belonging to a shared nation. To that end, it combined stories with explicit moral lessons, medieval and exotic settings, and a modernist aesthetic, bringing together pedagogical traditions from the 17th through the 19th centuries with the commercial language of the turn of the century. To understand its impact, one must look closely at its fundamental components: its covers, children's contributions, entertainment sections, the social life generated around competitions and correspondence, and the comics and literature it published throughout more than five decades of existence.
The cover was the magazine's calling card, the first visual bond it established with the reader. To achieve this, Blanchard-Chessi and Vaisse assembled a varied team of artists, painters, photographers, illustrators, and cartoonists whose work connected with children and stimulated their imagination. The covers became a constantly evolving canvas, where illustrations and photographic portraits were combined with changing logos and typography. At times, works by well-known Chilean and foreign painters were reproduced even when they had no direct connection to the contents, published simply for their beauty and thus bringing art closer to children.
Most illustrations and photographs, however, were unsigned. Anonymity was the rule. Photographers in particular remained in the shadows while the children they portrayed became minor celebrities. This reinforced the idea that the weekly centered the reader and the community rather than its creators.
The first masthead image was designed by José Foradori, who modified it over time in response to the magazine's different educational ideas. In the earliest stage, it showed simple, playful penecas; one wore a torn sock with his big toe sticking out. Later, Foradori replaced the original three children with a ring of penecas surrounding the word “Peneca,” including a serene baby whose expression conveyed calm. “Pepin” illustrated the “Contributions” section with a moon, where a small child painted the moon's face in white. Emilio Álvarez, meanwhile, drew a masthead set in a classroom, evoking education and formation.
The masthead was also illustrated by a number of artists and cartoonists—some anonymous or known only by pseudonyms—including Julio Bozo, Víctor Orellana, F. González, and an artist who signed with the initials R. H. On many occasions the cover needed nothing more than a box containing the words El Peneca; the illustrations, photographs, and reproductions of works of art formed an exhibition compelling enough to attract attention on their own.
Special editions, such as those for Chile's National Holidays and May 21, were particularly elaborate and functioned as formative artifacts in which innovative design, patriotic symbolism, and national spirit came together. One example was the cover of September 13, 1909 (issue no. 43), where Chile's coat of arms appeared as a national and cultural emblem. The Chilean shield displayed a tricolor field—white, blue, and red—with a silver star (white in this case) at the center. It was flanked by a huemul and a condor and crowned at the center by tricolor feathers recalling those once worn on presidential hats. Figueroa Ruiz devoted years of effort to securing a permanent professional position with Zig-Zag.
For Christmas, issue no. 58 of December 27, 1909, featured a little musician playing the double bass, capturing the festive holiday spirit of the period:
“BEARDLESS ARTIST
At the tender age when ideas
come slowly, tardily, confused,
the boy already knows his semiquavers
and all the science of demisemiquavers.”
José Foradori made it possible for children to see themselves reflected on the covers. In issue no. 16 (March 8, 1909), he portrayed children playing on a beach, with sea and sky melting together in blue.
The first-anniversary cover (issue no. 53, November 22, 1909), titled “Birthday,” offered a compact portrait of the family. In shades of violet, the scene assigned each role precisely: the child at the center, representing childhood in formation; the father, dressed in black and bending toward his son, as authority and provider; the affectionate mother; and the grandmother as the embodiment of family tradition.
Issue no. 105 (November 21, 1910) featured an illustration signed “Pepín”: the mischievous Chambeco—a character created by Emilio Álvarez—surrounded by children dancing in a circle, drawing readers into a world of fantasy and movement.
The cover of issue no. 284 (April 27, 1914), “At the Picture Show,” presented a meticulous black-and-white illustration, probably by José Foradori, depicting an elegant grandfather and his grandchildren, dressed in their finest clothes, attending a theatrical screening.
(1886-1948) was an illustrator for Editorial Zig-Zag who worked under the pseudonym “Chao.” In issue no. 15 (March 1, 1909), using three colors, he depicted an elderly gentleman seated on a bench in Santiago's Plaza de Armas, a traditional meeting place for the city's residents:
“THE FOUNTAIN OF CASTALIA
Amid life's hardships and its cares,
when many Aprils have gone by,
within its bright and shining pages
EL PENECA will offer its readers
a world of memories from youth.
Sketches drawn from life in the Plaza de Armas, by
Chao.”
He stood out for combining refined humor with visual storytelling. The satirical portrait in issue no. 3 (December 7, 1908), accompanied by his own rhymes, demonstrated his double talent as illustrator and writer. Figueroa Ruiz had an expressive line capable of capturing the duality of human nature, portraying the human condition somewhere between irony and tenderness. A clear example was the caricature devoted to “Don Samuel A. Lillo, Inspector General of the University.” Figueroa Ruiz defined the art of caricature in these words:
“Don SAMUEL A. LILLO
Inspector General of the University
“A caricature is a portrait with exaggerations. It is a joke like any other. When it is done gracefully—or rather, with talent—without offending the person it portrays, and when it is well presented with features that make the subject recognizable, it deserves acceptance and therefore deserves applause.”
Emilio Álvarez (1891-1959), known by the pseudonym “EA/Pun TT,” was a multifaceted artist who excelled in graphic storytelling. Under the heading “FOR A LAUGH,” his “Story Without a Punch Line” in issue no. 25 (May 10, 1909) innovated through visual metaphor combined with absurd humor, depicting a father with his three sons. Beneath the drawing appeared dialogue in Spanish imitating a foreigner's speech: “Me have three sons,” said a German, “and all be very good: Juan no drink; Otto no smoke; and Pedro… Nolasco.”
The exhibition held in an El Mercurio gallery in 1915 was an exceptional recognition. “Magister” (Benjamín Oviedo) discussed Álvarez's painting Los trasnochados, praising its “powerful intensity” and affirming the artist's “refined spirit”:
“MISCELLANY
EXHIBITION OF EMILIO ÁLVAREZ
Several days ago, an exhibition of drawings by the expert hand of our well-known illustrator Emilio Álvarez opened in one of the halls of El Mercurio. The material in the exhibition may be divided into three groups: Portraits, Caricatures, and Paintings. Among the portraits, the admirable likenesses of the sculptor Canut de Bon and little Lattanzi stand out as true models of accuracy and precision.
Among the caricatured figures are several people well known in our intellectual world, including Messrs. Popelaire and Latorre.
Finally, among the paintings, Los Trasnochadores draws attention for its powerful intensity; in it Álvarez has left much of his sentimental soul and refined spirit.
Among the ranks of young artists, Emilio Álvarez has emerged with striking distinction, and wherever his drawings are seen they immediately call their author to mind, for they bear the characteristic stamp of vigorous originality.
And because, despite all the obstacles proper to the road he travels, this young artist continues to struggle, we do not doubt that he will finally reach that summit of perfection to which every artist aspires—and we sincerely and affectionately wish it for him.”
MAGISTER.
EL PENECA, no. 362, October 25, 1915.
He drew the caricature “Don Fernando Álvarez Sotomayor” for issue no. 45 (September 27, 1909), sharply capturing the Spanish painter during his years in Chile and honoring him with a verse: “From the warmth of his talent, the works of his brushes have won the fairest laurels for the painter Álvarez Sotomayor.”
His graphic work offered young readers an educated yet accessible perspective through caricatures such as “Doctor Mann” in issue no. 50 (November 1, 1909), identified as “Professor of Experimental Psychology at the Instituto Pedagógico.”
Luis Fernando Rojas (Casablanca, 1857-1942) was a Chilean illustrator, lithographer, and cartoonist of the early 20th century. Recognized for his talent from childhood, he studied at the Instituto Nacional and later at Santiago's School of Fine Arts. Despite the scale and influence of his work, his legacy faced a striking paradox. Until 2014, a substantial portion of his creations remained anonymous, dissolved into the vast sea of periodicals such as Zig-Zag, El Peneca, La Época, and Sucesos.
His work appeared throughout the newspapers and magazines of his time, yet his name did not pass into Chile's graphic history with the same force. This is especially remarkable given his direct role in documenting a defining national conflict, the War of the Pacific. Aware of the danger that Rojas might be forgotten, Enrique Blanchard-Chessi had already tried in 1911 to rescue his memory through an article reviewing his career as a correspondent in Chile's war against Peru and Bolivia. He did more than praise him; he claimed a place for Rojas in Chilean memory. This early attempt at recognition underscored the contradiction that defined the artist: a man whose work was seen everywhere in his own day, yet who became almost a ghost in official historiography.
He illustrated under the pseudonyms “LFR” and “Marius.” One example is the center spread of issue no. 22 (April 18, 1909), where he depicted the execution of the Carrera brothers. Beneath the image were the words: “Luis said to his brother Juan José: Remember that we are Chilean soldiers and that we must die as such…”
Together with texts by “Cabo Moya”, he also created the series “The Adventures of Sánchez.”
The melancholy premonition Blanchard-Chessi set down in the pages of El Peneca in 1911—lamenting the artist's unjust neglect and fearing that his final years would be spent in poverty—was tragically fulfilled three decades later. In 1942, Luis Fernando Rojas died in almost total institutional abandonment. His only posthumous recognition, both exceptional and symbolic, was burial in the Museum of the Veterans of '79, a privilege normally reserved exclusively for military men and granted on that occasion to a single civilian in recognition of his work as a correspondent during the war:
“NATIONAL GALLERY
The Illustrator Rojas
He is too tall to be a Chilean artist.
And yet he was born an artist and, unfortunately, has had to make his living from art.
There is always a bitter smile upon his face—not ironic, but the truest expression of a life of constant resignation…
With his fine young figure, despite the gray hairs visible in his mustache, he does not look fifty years old; but in truth he has already lived half a century, much of it lost to him.
He ought to have become much more and has become little in comparison with what he is. He revealed himself as an artist all at once, and his life has continued to be a surprise amid the selfish struggle of modern times… And from birth until today, he has always remained the same.
One night many years ago, in 1875, a single effort revealed what he promised to become. He was still a boy, visiting the home of Don Carlos Wood, where he sat modestly almost in a corner, silently listening to his mother converse with their host.
At that moment Don Máximo Cubillos arrived, a young journalist who, on the occasion of the International Exhibition being held in Santiago, had just founded an interesting magazine called Correo de la Exposición.
He was desperate. He had searched everywhere for an artist, a lithographic draftsman capable of preparing pencil engravings for his magazine, and had failed to find one.
—There is not a single draftsman in Santiago who can get me out of this difficulty, he said. I do not know what to do…
Young Rojas (he was 17 years old, L.C.) listened eagerly and with genuine interest. Little by little he moved closer to the group, and at last he gathered the courage to speak to Mr. Cubillos:
—Sir, I think I could do what you need…
—You?
—Yes, sir.
—Then you know how to draw? Do you know how to work on stone?
—Yes, sir, answered the beardless young artist, stammering with genuine shyness.
—Very well, then; we shall make a test, replied Cubillos distrustfully, though encouraged by the boy's determination. Tomorrow, he added, I shall give you a piece of work.
Very early the next morning, Cubillos arrived by carriage at Rojas's house and handed him a small statue by Bargaghi, El primer amigo, along with an address where he was to bring a lithographic proof of the drawing…
Rojas now found himself in serious trouble, for in truth he did not know how to draw on stone.
He knew a lithographer, Mr. Saling, and went to see him.
—Would you do me the favor of giving me a few instructions on how to draw on stone?
—With pleasure, Saling replied. Are you going to draw on stone?
—Yes, sir…
After several attempts, Rojas, filled with delight, began to understand the task he had undertaken; and soon, almost beside himself with happiness after learning to handle the lithographic crayons, he returned to the good lithographer, who immediately approved the work.
—Let us pull a proof, Mr. Saling said with a smile, taking a damp sponge and passing it over the drawing.
—Good God, sir! What are you doing? You are going to erase my drawing…
—Oh, do not worry, he replied. This is how it is done.
A short while later, good Mr. Saling handed him a magnificent proof made with lithographic ink.
Hardly knowing how, Rojas ran out into the street and took it to Mr. Cubillos.
With tears in his eyes, Cubillos embraced him affectionately and gave him all the illustration work for Correo de la Exposición.
That was how Don Luis Fernando Rojas began his career as an artist. For many years he was Chile's only artistic draftsman. There is hardly a historical or artistic work from earlier decades that was not illustrated by him. Unfortunately, he has had to live from his art and has therefore never been able, as he deserved, to devote himself exclusively to its higher cultivation.
Thus Chile has lost the best of its artists.
The necessities of life, one might say, have robbed him of part of his talent.”
E. B-CH.
EL PENECA, no. 113, January 16, 1911.
Julio Bozo Valenzuela (Pailimo, Chile, 1879-1942) was a Chilean illustrator known for the distinctive mustache that inspired his artistic name, “Moustache.” Bozo Valenzuela was appointed artistic director of the weekly alongside Emilio Vaisse. He developed a distinguished career in El Peneca and the magazine Zig-Zag during the opening decades of the 20th century. Issue no. 130 (May 15, 1911) published three of his illustrations: one formed the masthead for “Chats,” another accompanied “The Lion,” a Brahmanic tale, and the third illustrated “The Bishop's Beard.” He retired in the 1920s, leaving an important legacy.
Manuel Guerra Urquieta, known as “MaxX” (1878-1941), was a pioneer of comics and graphic storytelling in Chile. One of his innovations was the use of rectangular panels to organize narrative sequences, breaking with the tradition of isolated illustrations or more regular frames. The technique anticipated the language of the modern comic:
“CHATS
A New History of Chile
Dear reader: as you contemplate these images, your eyes will delight, your mind will be illuminated, and your heart will kindle with love for Chile.
We ourselves shall rejoice more than anyone to see at last the fulfillment of a desire we have cherished for a long time and which, only for lack of an artist, could not be realized in previous years.
Mr. Manuel Guerra (Max), whose artistic gifts are known to all, has undertaken the preparation of the graphic portion of this history, which in itself is a guarantee of success.
OMER EMETH.
El Peneca, no. 454, July 30, 1917.
Galvarino Lee “Bonsoir” (1879-1952), known for his graphic satire, created popular characters that humorously portrayed Chilean idiosyncrasies. His work in El Peneca helped establish archetypes within the national imagination.
Jorge Délano, under the pseudonym “Coke” (1895-1980), began his career at an early age in El Peneca and was hired by Editorial Zig-Zag, where he worked on a wide variety of publications. His enduring legacy was the founding, direction, editing, and illustration of his own political-satire magazine, Topaze. In 1964 he received Chile's National Journalism Prize.
In a 1914 issue, a former classmate from the Instituto Nacional recalled the student life of this charismatic artist:
“CONTRIBUTION
THE EXHIBITION OF COKE'S CARICATURES
Last Wednesday Coke closed the beautiful exhibition of works that for several days had become an unavoidable topic in newspaper columns and social gatherings.
The cultivated public that filled the halls of El Mercurio laughed heartily at the ingenious caricatures and greeted the young artist with warm smiles and handshakes.
We walked through the gallery remembering old times. Ah, those days when we were classmates at the Instituto! Coke smiled at the memory. He was the one who brought joy into the classroom.”
EL PENECA, no. 350, August 2, 1915.
Juan Francisco González Ramírez “Huelen” (1894-1976) inherited the pictorial legacy of his father, one of Chile's “four masters,” and combined academic rigor with the freshness of popular illustration in his caricatures. “Huelen” studied at the School of Arts and Crafts. From a young age he worked as an illustrator for several magazines, including El Peneca. “Other illustrators joined [El Peneca], such as Juan Francisco Ramírez (Huelen), son of the renowned painter of the same name, illustrating the opening pages and caricatures.”
Pedro Subercaseaux, under the pseudonym “Lustig” (German for “funny”) (1880-1956), studied at the Academy of Arts in Berlin and became one of Chile's most prominent classical painters. He pursued a dual career between academic art and popular graphics, distinguishing himself as both illustrator and cartoonist. He worked with Editorial Zig-Zag, where in 1906 he created the famous “Federico Von Pilsener”. In issue no. 96 (September 19, 1910), beneath an illustration copied by “L. Paper”, the character spoke in comic Spanish mimicking a German accent: “Von Pilsener: Me like very much read El Peneca because have little pictures and I too once was little peneca.” The character was accompanied by his dog, named “Dudelsackpfeifergeselle” (meaning an unmarried man who plays the bagpipes). Pedro Subercaseaux, creator of one of Chile's earliest comic strips, ended his life as an ordained Benedictine monk.
Walter Barbier (1880-1923) was an artist, illustrator, scriptwriter, and comics artist whose work had a vibrant style. Barbier developed a warm visual language combining realistic observation with touches of comedy, irony, and adventure. Although most of his contributions consisted of illustrations for serialized stories, issue no. 115 (January 30, 1911) featured his caricature of an intellectual: “English Institute, Mr. Webster E. Browning—graduate of Princeton University, United States.” The drawing emphasized a strongly defined profile and a use of light and shadow that reinforced the physiognomy of a man of learning.
Issue no. 269, dated January 12, 1914, devoted space to the artist Walter Barbier. The article legitimized his work by noting that he exhibited at El Mercurio and erased the boundary between “high” and “satirical” art, demonstrating that a single creator could master both registers:
“CHATS
Walter Barbier
W. Barbier: there is a signature very popular among us. What reader of El Peneca does not know and appreciate it?
Week after week in El Peneca, W. Barbier sends before us the characters of a comedy that delights children.
With good humor and a touch of mischief, the artist portrays the Levacortas, Cain and Barabbas, Ñor Carmelo, the Miaucitos, and a hundred more whose lives and adventures are known and celebrated by our readers and friends.
Yet just as W. Barbier knows how to draw for children, he also draws for adults—and does so with mastery.
Two exhibitions of his work prove it: one called El Peneca; the other, opened only recently at El Mercurio.
In the exhibition hall of El Mercurio our readers will find a collection of caricature portraits (portraits-charges) that will arouse the admiration they richly deserve. W. Barbier's mastery will emerge from that exhibition fully consecrated.”
OMER EMETH.
The contributor Francisco A. Lira D. dedicated a sonnet to him, “Your Imagination,” describing his imagination as a divine, serene, and triumphant force:
“YOUR IMAGINATION
(For the distinguished caricaturist and illustrator W. Barbier)
It has the charm and heavenly grace
of a blue lake and a tranquil sea;
it is the cherub with marble wings
that speaks in secret with the soul.
Filled with clarity and brimming with peace,
it moves from flower to flower like the breeze;
it nests in Olympian gardens
and makes divine the mystery of Art.
It is triumph's white messenger,
which, as your faithful eternal companion,
foretells for you a radiant hope.
And with tireless, hurried flight,
through spaces lit like diamonds,
like incense, it rises toward heaven.”
FRANCISCO A. LIRA D.
EL PENECA, no. 334, April 12, 1915.
Rodolfo Lenz Danziger (Halle, Prussia, 1863 – Chile, 1938) was a German-born scholar who became a Chilean citizen, earned a doctorate in Philosophy, and was a linguist fluent in thirteen languages. He also ventured into folklore and the graphic arts and worked for both El Peneca and Zig-Zag.
Paul Dufresne (1866-1918) came to Chile from France in the late 19th century. He was an illustrator whose European style enriched the visual catalog of both Zig-Zag and El Peneca, serving as a cultural bridge between continents. The exact date of his arrival in Chile could not be established.
Carlos Zorzi, an Italian engraver, lithographer, painter, and illustrator, arrived in Chile in 1894. He contributed to El Peneca and other publications. There are no clear records of his date of birth or place of death. He developed a long career with the magazine Zig-Zag. His work was distinguished by vivid color, fine detail, and a narrative sensitivity that captured the imagination of the period through accomplished pictorial expression.
Apel·les Mestres (1854-1936), a distinguished Spanish artist and caricaturist, contributed to El Peneca from its very first issue, where he published the comic strip “Bitter Pleasure.” It told the story of a boy who imitates his father by smoking a cigarette and then suffers severe stomach pain. Beneath the four panels making up the strip, the editors included the following note:
“Note: These drawings are by the famous Spanish artist Apel·les Mestres. Our little readers who enjoy drawing may admire on this page, and on others we shall publish, the fineness and delicacy of his work. In this way they will gradually develop their artistic taste.”
EL PENECA, no. 1, November 23, 1908.
Benjamin Rabier (1864-1939) was a French illustrator, caricaturist, and author known for his versatility and his contribution to illustrated comics. His work ranged from satirical drawings to anthropomorphic animal characters, making him an important figure in early-20th-century European popular culture. Issue no. 22 (April 18, 1909) featured “Things Toads Do,” a nearly wordless comic with only a caption beneath each panel, showing a group of toads making fun of a snake. The same issue included “How to Catch a Cat.” Later, in issue no. 130 (May 15, 1911), he published “A Visit in the Duck-Plane.”
The cover of issue no. 73 (April 11, 1910) reproduced a portrait signed by the German artist Franz Defregger (1835-1921). The black-and-white image showed a barefoot boy sitting with his pet in a workplace setting. He wore clothing close to rags and was portrayed in a humble domestic environment.
The August 14, 1911 issue (no. 143) featured a proud young shoemaker rendered in black and white with luminous tonal effects, in a work signed by Emilio Dupré. Dupré was an illustrator and painter active in the late 19th and early 20th centuries and associated with Chilean magazines and publishing houses. Some sources suggest that he may have been of French or Italian origin, or perhaps of French or Italian descent, but there is no confirmation. He contributed to El Peneca and worked for Zig-Zag, illustrating covers and advertisements.
At the same time, as already mentioned, the offices of the newspaper El Mercurio customarily included a room specially arranged for exhibitions. These cultural events did not go unnoticed by the magazine's contributors, who frequently wrote notices and chronicles about painters and artists connected with the publishing world:
“CHATS
IMPRESSIONS
(The Exhibition of Paintings by Mr. Alfredo Lobos)
Today I went for the second time to visit the exhibition of paintings by the young artist Mr. Alfredo Lobos, held in one of the halls of El Mercurio, and I came away even more enchanted by that group of such delicate and beautiful little canvases…
I am neither a painter nor an artist, so I do not intend to offer a critique worthy of those paintings; I only wish to describe the impression that collection of little canvases left upon me.
I confess that I sensed in them much that was true—nature well interpreted—for in each one I seemed to recognize a familiar landscape, a cove I had seen before… or a pale seascape, tranquil and beautiful like those I have contemplated so many times. It seemed to me that the artist had carried scraps of real nature onto those canvases, with all their infinite charm… and I admire them because they are alive, because they leave the same impression upon us as a real landscape or seascape.
In my opinion, one work stands out above that group of small paintings—“the Pearl of the Salon,” as I call it—a night scene entitled Nocturne (no. 70), a serene night so delicate and true that I have never seen its equal among all the painted nights I know. It is a small canvas, but eloquent. It speaks to us of a solitary little street, with its rows of houses standing grave and sad… It is a blue and enchanting night in which the air whispers melodies… and the shadows of the trees, reflected upon the walls, resemble muses dressed in mourning. Oh! I believe that when the artist set that night upon the canvas… the genius of Art illuminated his mind with talent's most powerful ray…
I regret that I do not possess the eloquence to express more fully the impression those delicate, lovely little canvases made upon me, and so all that remains is to send their author my sincerest congratulations.”
CELIA DÍAZ PALACIOS.
EL PENECA, no. 339, May 17, 1915.
A large proportion of the covers and interior pages carried no indication of authorship: some illustrations were unsigned, and photographs were never credited. The use of pseudonyms by illustrators was common at the time. Under an “alias,” these artists produced work for mass consumption in magazines, newspapers, and advertising—work often regarded as “minor” in its day. The pseudonym allowed them to inhabit both worlds: to protect their seriousness as studio artists while also working in commercial illustration.
The cover of February 16, 1914 (issue no. 274) showed a photograph of cheerful children pulling faces, titled “Grimace Competition.” Such images were a recurring feature of illustrated magazines from the late 19th to the early 20th century. The word visaje referred to an exaggerated facial expression or grimace. The competition is an example of how printed entertainment of the period explored spontaneity and humor in everyday life.
Covers frequently featured photographs of children from traditional Chilean families, such as Luisita Hucke Perín, Oscar Braun Menéndez, Julita Durán Bachler, and Raquelita Narváez Quinteros. They also showed children riding cows and other scenes of rural life, as in “Playing Blind Man's Buff” and “Country Outing,” as well as urban scenes—such as issue no. 317, dated December 14, 1914—of children playing marbles in the street under the subtitle “Playing at the Little Holes.” The images captured the clothing, urban environment, and forms of recreation of the period while also validating a tradition of play that endured for decades in public spaces.
The images on the covers and interior pages alternated between two worlds: that of the elite and the children of high society, and that of ordinary people, workers, and their children in city and countryside. The duality was not contradictory; instead, it helped construct a cohesive image of “the Chilean.”
Later, the drawings adopted an impressionistic tone that sought to connect readers with both the natural world and the divine. Religious dates were announced through images of the Virgin Mary and angels. Depictions of the Christ Child and of Christ were accompanied by the Virgin and the apostles. The cover of March 20, 1911 (issue no. 122), created in black and white by Emilio Dupré and titled “Maternal Love,” showed a woman watching over her sick child beside her other son.
Issue no. 387, dated April 17, 1916, featured a black-and-white portrait of a young man in a cassock titled “An Initiate.”
Issue no. 388, dated April 24, 1916, included the painting titled “Marter (Mater) Dolorosa” (“Sorrowful Mother”), depicting the Virgin Mary seated with Christ's crown of thorns resting in her lap.
Issue no. 437 (April 2, 1917) published an anonymous portrait of the Virgin under the same title. On this occasion she was supported by two companions who, judging by their appearance, also seemed to be saints.
The image in issue no. 391 (May 15, 1916), titled “The Eternal Sleep,” showed a deceased baby. To the sensibilities of the period, representations of this kind served as vivid reminders of the souls of the departed and as a visual resource that could help families process grief.
Issue no. 574 (November 17, 1919) portrayed María Hilda García praying in her First Communion dress.
“A Social Gathering” was an anonymous illustration published in issue no. 186 (June 10, 1912) that used anthropomorphic caricature, giving animals human features in order to satirize social behavior. The work was ahead of its time in the movement and vitality conveyed by the black-and-white drawing. In the scene, the animals represented a self-satisfied society, dancing in a vast hall while being served by waiter-animals drawn at a smaller scale to emphasize their lower social position.
The enigmatic signature “Leonard” accompanied the publication from the middle of 1916 and disappeared after the departure of its second editor. The face behind the pseudonym was never revealed.
Beginning in 1916, the weekly lost much of its color, although it occasionally managed to print covers in two tones, alternating them from week to week to retain some visual appeal. Especially around the middle of this period, covers often adopted designs of limited appeal to children, generally consisting of portraits of girls and boys in different settings or of animal figures.
Artist-illustrated covers became only occasional, as photographs were increasingly the norm. The magazine nevertheless published covers featuring important artists, such as issue no. 300 (August 17, 1914), apparently reproducing a painting by Jean Geoffroy (1853-1924), famous for his scenes of childhood. Issue no. 322 (January 18, 1915) included a painting by the Greek artist Georgios Jakobides (1852-1932). The central cover illustration in issue no. 442 (May 7, 1917), titled “HOW COLD THE WATER IS!”, was by the Chilean artist Emilio Álvarez.
The cover of issue no. 419 (November 27, 1916) was created by the illustrator F. González, while issue no. 522 (November 18, 1918) featured work by Víctor Orellana L. Very little biographical information survives for either artist: no documentation has been found that sheds light on their lives.
EL PENECA, no. 300, August 17, 1914.
EL PENECA, no. 332, January 18, 1915.
EL PENECA, no. 442, May 7, 1917.
Some creators faced oblivion. Illustrators, scriptwriters, comic artists, and photographers worked without their contributions being valued. Most received recognition only years later, if at all, or posthumously. Yet their legacy endured. Their creations remained fixed in readers' emotional memory, influenced later artists, and became an inseparable part of Chile's graphic history.
Photographers played a crucial role in visually documenting Chile. Through their lenses they captured everyday life, the urban fabric, architecture, and the country's landscapes, with particular attention to cities such as Santiago and Valparaíso as well as many rural communities. With an eye that was both artistic and documentary, they also portrayed hundreds of “penecas.” This vast body of images forms a unique photographic archive that today allows us to glimpse the appearance and atmosphere of a Chile that has vanished.
The covers, illustrations, and photographs produced between 1908 and 1921 became a field of artistic experimentation where academic rigor met aesthetic innovation and elite portraiture shared space with popular scenes. Covers acted as powerful visual magnets that anticipated the spirit of each issue. The roster of illustrators amounted to a who's who of graphic art at the time and laid the foundations for a distinctive visual language combining European pictorial tradition with Chilean idiosyncrasy.
Anonymity and precarious professional recognition were a constant in the history of these creators. Figures such as Luis Fernando Rojas, whom Blanchard-Chessi tried to rescue from oblivion, died in poverty decades later, victims of an editorial system that condemned them to anonymity.
The period analyzed here represents the magazine's greatest moment of splendor and experimentation. Beginning in 1916, the gradual loss of color foreshadowed the decline of this first stage. But the “visual foundations for a golden age of Chilean magazines” had already been laid.
Blanchard-Chessi celebrated the first anniversary by emphasizing that the main objective was to encourage original creation among young contributors, reject plagiarism in order to raise literary quality, and prepare a group of children who could take an active role in the editorial work:
“The Anniversary of EL PENECA
(November 23, 1908 – November 23, 1909)
A HAPPY moment it surely was when the idea came to us of creating this publication devoted exclusively to tender young minds—to those just beginning life, or who have walked only along its smiling borders and still have before them horizons and prospects of the greatest beauty.
It was, in truth, a beautiful inspiration—and we congratulate ourselves for it without conceit—to propose this weekly and publish it as both a delight and a gentle, almost imperceptible form of instruction for childhood. And we have been rewarded!
El Peneca has now lived for a full year, surrounded by affection and applause. If we were to publish all the letters we have received, and continue to receive, encouraging us in our task and constantly praising us, we would have to devote the magazine's pages exclusively to them.
No! We thank all those simple and generous hearts who understand our modest effort and send us congratulations and even blessings; but we must limit ourselves to thanking them privately and continue, quietly and without seeking public applause, the work we have begun.
There is nothing more satisfying than struggling and seeing one's efforts bear fruit—which, in the moral sense, ours have—and knowing that the work undertaken has been gladly received.
That is enough to make us happy.
We want the readers for whom this publication is intended to amuse themselves and learn something as well; we want them to become accustomed to developing their abilities and nourishing their intelligence with wholesome reading, always moral, because whoever follows bad inclinations inevitably falls; we want them to write for themselves and, through perseverance, eventually become distinguished writers who bring honor to our homeland.
There is still much to be done before our ideals are realized; but with the cooperation of our own young contributors, we believe we shall eventually reach the result we seek.
The weekly's pages are already too few for all the contributions we receive, and frankly, we wish we could satisfy everyone. For that reason, we shall continue, as far as possible, to encourage all those who wish to begin trying their hand at literature; but from now on we shall make a special effort to publish the best work—and, of course, original work.
Down with plagiarism!
Soon, in addition to several innovations and reforms, we shall offer some advice on composition and information about the various literary genres, to give our good friends better tools for writing well. We cannot end these lines without regretting that we are unable to publish at present all the congratulations received on the anniversary of this publication, and without repeating how deeply grateful we are for the kindness and affection shown toward El Peneca.”
E. B-CH.
EL PENECA, no. 53, November 22, 1909.
The same anniversary issue praised Raquel Olimpia Martínez Rojas, whose stories were popular with readers:
“OUR CONTRIBUTORS
Miss Raquel O. Martínez R.
AMONG the most constant, modest, intelligent, and cultivated contributors to El Peneca, Miss Raquel Olimpia Martínez Rojas occupies an outstanding place.
Countless letters have reached us regarding her beautiful fantasies and invariably moral articles, all of which reveal her lively talent.
Nor does a day pass without some request from readers that we publish her portrait.
Similar requests have been made for other El Peneca contributors, but none has received as many votes as Miss Martínez.”
EL PENECA, no. 53, November 22, 1909.
The “Comments” and “Miscellany” sections published readers' letters containing criticism of behavior, thanks, suggestions, impressions, and even condolences. Contributor Berta R. L. addressed poverty from an ethical-Christian perspective. Her writing sought to transform the way readers looked at those in more vulnerable social positions. Berta recommended a concrete practice of Christian charity: when the less fortunate came to our doors, the response should not stop at merely giving alms. Christian conduct required welcoming them with genuine compassion and meeting their needs as far as one's means allowed. Such mercy, she wrote, brought rewards: God's blessings in this life and the eternal promise of salvation when the earthly pilgrimage came to an end:
“MISCELLANY
POVERTY
Poverty is not a punishment from our Creator. For that reason, there is no disgrace in being poor, nor should we look down upon those who occupy a lower place than ourselves.
Keeping this in mind, we shall know how to behave toward those unfortunate people who come to our doors seeking alms: we should receive them with kindness and meet their needs if we are able. If we conduct ourselves in this way, in this life we shall receive the blessings of our Creator and of our friends. And later, when we leave this earth, we shall find the gates of heaven open to us.”
Berta R. L.
EL PENECA, no. 63, January 31, 1910.
In September 1910, Blanchard-Chessi listed several young contributors and their respective roles, accompanying each name with a brief note and photograph. He expressed gratitude both to the young contributors and to established writers who had helped the weekly grow, and assured readers that El Peneca would guide them toward important places in Chilean literature and journalism. He then added: “Contributors must set an example at school by being diligent students. From now on we shall publish no article by anyone whom we are reliably informed does not study. Obedience and study are the first conditions for anyone who wishes to become something in life”:
“The Contributors to El Peneca
Don Abel Guevara. Our illustrator ‘Paper’.
Don Oscar de la Barra, contributor to El Peneca, a poet worthy of encouragement.
Mr. Hernán Díaz Arrieta, prizewinner in El Peneca's first competition and today the author of a beautiful little book.
Don Manuel Bianchi Gundián, contributor to El Peneca, prizewinner in the first literary competition.
Don Nicanor Castro Morales, contributor to El Peneca with articles on the history of Chile.
Don Carlos Ceppi, contributor to El Peneca, poet.
Don Luis A. Pezoa, contributor to El Peneca with articles on various subjects.
Mr. A. Toro (‘Lancaster’), contributor to El Peneca with articles on history and geography.
Miss Rosa Williams Ibáñez (‘Pierrette’), an intelligent contributor to El Peneca.
Don Misael Concha Aranda, contributor to El Peneca with articles on various subjects.”
EL PENECA, no. 96, September 19, 1910.
In the same issue, no. 96 (September 19, 1910), Bernardo A. Cruz wrote an essay under the pseudonym “Anjel Lucero” on the meaning and impact of the Centennial:
“CENTENNIAL OF CHILE
Some of these future great writers write with different aims: one out of love of country, describing historical episodes; others out of love of art, composing sentimental pieces of literary merit; still others write serious articles. Among them Mr. Valderrama stands out, who in a burst of true patriotism exclaimed emphatically in his ‘Reflections’: ‘In El Peneca the first shoots of the art cultivated by those who will later be called “men of letters” are taking root, carrying upon their brows the badge—and for us the honor—of being Chilean.’”
EL PENECA, no. 96, September 19, 1910.
On November 21, 1910, for the second anniversary, an editorial review took stock of achievements and fulfilled purposes, emphasizing the magazine's educational and journalistic mission. The publication committed itself to improvements in writing and graphic design in order to remain relevant and entertaining. A photographic gallery of contributors was added:
The Second Anniversary of El Peneca
On the coming 23rd, El Peneca completes its second year of existence and has the satisfaction of continuing the task it set itself from the day of its foundation, surrounded by the affection and reputation granted to it not only by children but also by grown-ups who have understood the high mission it performs within national journalism—a mission that seeks wholeheartedly to do good, to delight while instructing, and to honor our ever-beloved Homeland. It will now continue to evolve, seeking improvements in its writing and design and striving, insofar as possible, to be at once instructive—with drawing lessons, the language lessons that will resume, embroidery lessons, practical examples of morality, etc., etc.—and as entertaining as possible, with many caricatures and illustrations of current events.
We take this opportunity to offer our readers several portraits of our contributors. As everyone knows, we published many in the Centennial issue; today we present a few more, and soon we shall have the pleasure of showing them all. We therefore wish every happiness to all our readers and especially to our contributors on this anniversary of El Peneca, since the publication belongs to them.
Mr. Domingo Rojas, El Peneca contributor of journalistic articles.
Mr. Eduardo Flores Ibarra, El Peneca contributor on various subjects.
Miss Josefina Robles (Estrella), El Peneca contributor of literary articles.
Mr. Agustín Aravena, El Peneca contributor of articles and poems.
Miss Laura Corvalán (Aura), El Peneca contributor of stories and fantasies.
Miss Rosa Cucurull (Rosina), El Peneca contributor of stories and fantasies.
EL PENECA, no. 105, November 21, 1910.
The theme of the mother occupied a special place, exalting the obedience and affection children were expected to show her. Nature and the land were linked to the cultivation of Christian devotion. At the same time, patriotism and love of Chile emerged as recurring motifs. The following contribution titles illustrate these themes: “The Beggar Woman,” “My Mother,” “Honesty,” “Love of God,” “Christian Charity,” “Homeland,” “Without a Mother,” “Spring,” “Autumn,” “Passion Flower,” “A Good Heart,” “Work,” “Study,” “Poverty,” “How the People of Valparaíso Amuse Themselves,” and “A Pilgrim's Dream.”
In issue no. 102 (October 31, 1910), contributor Abel Guevara, “L. Paper,” caricatured a Chilean teacher and member of Congress against a white background. Presenting a “teacher and deputy” within an honorary frame served as a form of civic consecration. By including such a figure in a publication for children, the magazine granted him public recognition and unquestioned authority. The choice of “Don Armando Quezada” symbolized the fusion of knowledge and civic power: he was the model citizen who placed education at the service of the nation.
In January 1911, Estanislao Hernández wrote “A Huaso's Warning,” notable for an innovative linguistic style that used authentic rural speech, incorporated popular expressions and sayings, and preserved country pronunciation:
“CONTRIBUTIONS
‘A HUASO'S WARNING’
(In Popular Speech)
Now that we are near the month of the dead, I remember a story they told me when I went out to the countryside.
Listen, s'ñor, don't you go coming back too late from Doña Margarita's. Mind you, s'ñor, over there by the patagua grove there's been a whole heap of strange goings-on… I'll tell you one that happened to me my own self on Saint…'s day, when I was coming back from Don Pancho Salazar's. As you'll understand, s'ñor, they were celebrating his saint's day, and I was a little tipsy after drinking and dancing cueca like the devil himself with the…
—All right, but what about the story?”
Estanislao Hernández D., Santiago, October 6, 1910.
EL PENECA, no. 114, January 23, 1911.
The Contributions section drew heavily on Christian inspiration: “Prayer,” “Jesus,” “Supplication,” “Charity,” “The Fountain of Life,” “Path of Illusion,” “Christmas Night,” “The Orphan's Christmas,” “Dream,” “Pain and Consolation,” “Evocation,” “Prayer Before Lunch,” “The Garden's Mourning,” “To God!,” “A Soul in Agony,” “In the Month of the Dead,” “To the Condor of Glory,” “New Year,” and “Sacrifice.” In the prose piece “Why I Write,” the contributor using the pseudonym “Adami” sensitively expressed the private motives that drove him to write:
“CONTRIBUTIONS
WHY DO I WRITE?
(For H. Pinochet S.)
The first time I wrote, I hardly knew how it happened; I only know that I did it trembling, out of a justified fear that my words might not be worthy of publication. I was inspired by the beloved light of a pair of eyes. My mother's eyes!
I write when I see my flowered illusions drifting away; when I feel peace and tranquility in my soul; when the silence of evening reigns and memories of happy days return to me.
I write in the hour of mysterious calm, when the first light of morning appears, little birds let their melodious songs be heard, and flowers open their petals. I write when I see the beloved light of eyes filled with mystery, gentle and fascinating—eyes of the color my gaze admires and adores.
I write because my soul carries memories of sorrow or joy; memories it is not enough merely to feel—I must write them down. I am convinced that what I write has no merit, yet I feel infinite pleasure in doing it. It brings me relief!
Finally, I write… because I like to write… These phrases I dedicate to you, a faithful reflection of my thoughts, a mixture of joy and tears, I send to satisfy your curiosity.
They tell you why I write.”
ADAMI.
EL PENECA, no. 186, June 10, 1912.
In October 1912, under the “Chats” section, “Omer Emeth” wrote a brief reflection titled “The Lesson of a Rose.” In it, he proposed that children read something different from ordinary books: the great book of Nature, created by God. Through the image of a rose growing beside the road, he warned them about the moral and spiritual dangers of the street and invited them to value the protection of home:
“CHATS
THE LESSON OF A ROSE
The children of today are tireless readers, and I shall not be the one to reproach them for their love of reading. No…
Books, when they are good, are our best friends—the most sincere, the most faithful, those that serve us most and cost us least. What
splendid friends they are!… But there is one book superior to all others, and it is precisely the one we read least. Day and night it lies open before our eyes. Its pages are as immense as the earth and sky. There its letters are flowers and stars; its words are not dead like those that fill the pages of ordinary books: they are living beings that love and suffer, that speak and sing with truly divine eloquence and harmony…
What title does that book bear?… It is called The World, or Nature, and its author is God…
Have you ever read it? Would you not enjoy reading it and seeking there the lessons written for you by the “supreme author,” the perfect man of letters, the “poet” of poets? (1)
Surely you would enjoy it, and surely such reading would be of benefit to you.
Today let us open one of its smallest pages. Let us approach a garden, one of those in Santiago which, with spring, are displaying all their finery. Let us not try to read the whole page… We have no time for that…
Let us look at a single line; less still, a single word. Let us consider a “rose.”
There it is, beside the path, newly opened. It is fresh and beautiful and seems to say: look at me… We look, and what do we see?
Oh! Its beauty is as evident as sunlight, but…
There is a but… I look at it and see that being so close to the road is not healthy for its beauty.
Automobiles pass near it and stain it with the residue of poorly burned gasoline, splashing it with the dirty dust they raise; coaches and carts pass and complete the automobile's work; and there is always some heartless passerby ready to lay filthy hands upon it…
Poor rose! Not even for the span of a single day does your beauty remain untouched… Yet you are a word written in crimson ink by the hand of God, and that word reads: “Beware!” Beware, boys and girls who read these lines;
beware of the street and those who pass along it, staining you with the impure dust they raise… The street is no good place for children or flowers… How much more beautiful, and how much longer lasting, are the flowers that grow in the center of the garden, in the courtyard of a closed house, in a pure and holy home!…
Walk through the gardens and you will see how true my words are. You will see that, far from the roads, flowers and leaves shine unstained and live in safety…
Conclusion: Beware of the street!… Love the peace and safety of your home. There, affectionate gardeners will know how to care for you, and you will bloom healthy in body and soul like the flowers of God… ‘Beware!’…”
OMER EMETH.
Poet means Maker or Creator.
EL PENECA, no. 205, October 21, 1912.
An adult reader who identified himself as “one who is not a peneca” responded to “The Lesson of a Rose.” On November 15, 1912, he expressed concern about boys who spent their time in the streets and girls who lingered at windows watching the outside world. He disagreed with corporal punishment and proposed instead Catholic schools, boarding school, and religious discipline. Emilio Vaisse responded that he agreed in substance, while maintaining that punishment administered without anger still had a place in education.
Together, the two passages reflected the anxieties of Santiago's urban middle class in 1912. The city was expanding, automobiles were appearing, and children were gaining access to public spaces beyond adult control:
“CHATS
ON STREET BOYS AND WINDOW-GAZING GIRLS
It seems that the Chats of October 21 and the 11th of this month have not fallen on deaf ears.
From the letter we publish below, our readers will see that those Chats have been discussed, commented upon, and improved.
“Santiago, November 15, 1912. Mr. Editor of El Peneca. Present.—Dear Sir:
Your editorial article in El Peneca of October 21 was both very delicate and most judicious, and what you say in the editorial of the 11th of this month, in reply to a letter from a father, is a fitting complement to it.
Your ‘biblical’ remedy of punishment nevertheless suggests several observations to me, which I shall take the liberty of setting before you. For the sake of brevity and clarity, I shall not discuss them at length but merely list them.
Punishment is effective, in my view, only in part—or rather, relatively. For if the girl or boy has already acquired the vice, she of hanging about the window and he of roaming the street, or if they are capricious or hard-tempered, corporal punishment—assuming that is what you mean—will be of little or no use. It may cause children to lose whatever sense of shame remains to them or, worse still, to hate their parents.
If they do not reform through advice and warnings, through the loss of outings, money, gifts, etc., or through an occasional corporal punishment applied at the proper time and without anger, I would venture to propose to you—or to the ‘father of a family’ who asked you for advice—the following:
1. Remove the girl from the Liceo and place her in a Catholic school; likewise,
if the boy is not already in one, place him in a Catholic school.
2. At home, reinforcing the work of a good school, instill religious feelings in them and have them practice acts of piety—but not excessively, lest they become weary of them.
3. If they continue nevertheless in their window-gazing and street-roaming habits, make them boarders. After one or two years as boarding pupils, they will forget windows, street doors and streets, as well as neighborhood friendships and the vices that such relations, together with the window or the street, inevitably create; and, with the combined influence of school and home, they will become good children.
That will suffice for now. But as it would be useful to expand the ‘curative plan’ I have begun in this letter with observations born more of experience than of reading, I shall complete it in a future letter, if the present one meets with your approval and you choose to publish it.
Yours very attentively and faithfully, One Who Is Not a Peneca.”
REPLY
“Dear Sir: I am of the same opinion as you, but I believe that before resorting to shutting away the street boy and the window-gazing girl, a few well-applied punishments might produce excellent results.
Parents today have forgotten the virtue of timely punishment applied in a Christian spirit.
But the truth must be told: if punishment is to be applied in anger and in a spirit of revenge, it is better to abstain. In that case the remedy is worse than the disease.”
OMER EMETH.
EL PENECA, no. 210, November 25, 1912.
The editor did not hesitate to reject readers' submissions when he suspected plagiarism. His commitment to originality led him to warn publicly against those who, seeking quick personal recognition, chose the easiest road. One striking example was the declaration he published in 1913:
“PLAGIARISTS
It so happens that, although I am very merciful toward children in all their sins, there is one thing I cannot tolerate in them—or in anyone: sham…
A fraud, whether large or small, old or young, aristocrat or commoner, is my personal enemy. He may be the most charming man or child in the world and possess more eloquence than Cicero; he will neither persuade me nor make me tolerate him. To me, a fraud and a dose of castor-oil purgative are one and the same thing.
Plagiarists therefore put themselves in a very bad position when they choose El Peneca as the place in which to dress themselves in borrowed feathers.
It is as though a fox, instead of keeping to the thickets where it was born, chose to parade along the Alameda or the Plaza de Armas.
What a fine hunt would await it!”
OMER EMETH.
EL PENECA, no. 223, February 24, 1913.
The story “A Night in the Desert,” sent from Talca on August 24, 1913, by a child using the pseudonym “Zuidersee,” described the experience of becoming lost for a night in the Chilean desert:
“CONTRIBUTIONS
A NIGHT IN THE DESERT
Alone, far from every living creature and worn out with fatigue, I surrendered to sleep.
I must have slept a long time, for when I awoke I found myself covered by a light layer of sand. I sat up and looked around. Beside me lay a human skeleton. Dawn had come! The light was still faint, and I could see not only what I had already seen but also a flare of gas—a will-o'-the-wisp, the ghost of the frozen desert.”
Talca, August 24, 1913.
EL PENECA, no. 253, September 22, 1913.
Roberto Meza Fuentes's text celebrated the sixth anniversary in issue no. 262, dated November 24, 1913. He named the carefully selected contributors one by one, praising and highlighting the poetry and prose of the young authors. He was convinced that taking part in the magazine would fundamentally change their lives. He described literary activities, debates, and intellectual challenges, mentioning the founders of the “Juventud” academy. He also revisited a debate begun by Celia Díaz Palacios, together with discussions of plagiarism and editorial errors in the weekly. He called on readers and contributors to unite and continue along the path of creative excellence. He wrote that the editor threw first attempts into the wastebasket when necessary, that he never rested, and that his purpose was to teach young writers how to take their first steps in literary life. It was an explicit tribute to the pedagogical and editorial work of “Omer Emeth,” recognizing rigor and dedication as the driving force of the magazine.
Maturity under “Omer Emeth”: Anniversaries, Nature, and Affection.
In November 1914, on the occasion of the seventh anniversary, the editor wrote an editorial reflecting on the obstacles the weekly had overcome in order to survive. He recognized those who had served as pillars along the way. He recalled the founder, Enrique Blanchard-Chessi, and highlighted a group of contributors whose talent and dedication had, in his view, reversed critical moments and consolidated the magazine's growth:
“The Seven Years of El Peneca
Today El Peneca enters its seventh year!…
For a magazine published in Chile—that is, in a country where periodicals die by the dozen like badly cared-for infants—to go on living and, more than that, growing after entering its seventh year is quite an achievement.
It is true (I confess it): I believe I have contributed to this evident prosperity. But I do not forget either the founder of this magazine, Mr. Blanchard-Chessi, or my contributors.
Several years ago there came a moment when El Peneca seemed to wither and draw close to the grave. A physician had to watch over it hour by hour, under penalty of death for the poor child…
Fortunately, two doctors instead of one were called in to take charge.
One of them was my friend and former collaborator Don Julio Bozo (Moustache), who, combining his medical science with my goodwill, performed the miracle of bringing the dying Peneca back to life.
Since then the magazine has continued to grow in age and strength and today is among the publications with the largest readership in Chile and the neighboring countries.
The distinguished poet Don Benjamín Oviedo M. (Magister) assists me with tireless zeal, and the young Don José M. Molina Guzmán lends both of us his intelligent collaboration.
But we would be unjust if we failed to remember here the eminent Walter Barbier and the contributors who are serving their literary apprenticeship in the shade of El Peneca.
Among that admirable company stand out the young ladies Adami (Aida Moreno), Marta Guerra H. (Brisa), Blanca Inda, and Messrs. Roberto Meza F., Carlos Leyton, Francisco Lira, and Antonio Morris.”
OMER EMETH.
EL PENECA, no. 314, November 23, 1914.
For the seventh anniversary, contributor Oscar Alfonso Godoy M. paid tribute to his friends and colleagues, whom he described as a generation of young writers formed in the magazine's pages. The passage helps us understand the weekly's role as a literary school:
“CONTRIBUTION
We are speaking, as will be understood, of the earliest days of our publication… those distant days when Enrique Blanchard directed it.
And more recently, from 1911 onward, since the expert hand of Omer Emeth has guided this fragile yet valuable little craft across the stormy ocean of public opinion, how many young travelers bound for the coveted harbor of Literature have not made a long journey within its generous hull?
There are Benjamín Oviedo Martínez and Francisco A. Lira; Bruja and Brisa; Evaristo Molina H. and Antonio Morris; Adami and Bruma; Carlos A. Leyton and Roberto Meza Fuentes; María Stuardo, Teresa Mogrovejo, José Molina Guzmán and Ángel Custodio Hernández, Celia Díaz Palacios and Teresa Zunino Chacón… to name no more… There they all are, these young personalities of Chilean letters, formed in the pages of El Peneca.
We have thought it unnecessary to analyze the work of each of these names, since readers already know it so well… We shall content ourselves instead with sending them warm applause and shouting:
Forward!… Forward!…”
OSCAR ALFONSO GODOY M.
EL PENECA, no. 314, November 23, 1914.
Emilio Vaisse developed a vision of nature as a visible manifestation of the divine, a conviction that led him to publish poems and stories celebrating “Autumn,” “Swallows,” “Spring,” “To the Peasants,” and “Night.” During his tenure, Vaisse anticipated ideas linking natural beauty with appreciation for the rural world in the face of growing urbanization. Reader Sergio Atria's poem “Country Morning” fully expressed this outlook.
“CONTRIBUTION
Country Morning
“There is an idyllic silence in the countryside,
so sweet and deep it reaches to the soul.
From the earth rises the fragrance of lilies,
and from the sky descends the scent of calm.
The cool morning breeze brushes
the grass. Like a fervent prayer,
the smoke from the cottages slowly rises
and gently disappears into the blue.
Beneath the glory of the sky, the sun laughs
with joy, and its laughter dissolves,
sparkling across the gold of wheat.
And through the good maternal earth
flows a stillness so deep and serene
that I, in my sadness, bless it…”
EL PENECA, no. 348, July 19, 1915.
On March 6, 1916, in issue no. 381 of El Peneca, Pastora Guerra Olivares offered her classmates a story titled “A Beautiful Proof of Affection.” Through the story of Juana, the author reflected on values such as generosity, sacrifice, and solidarity:
“CHATS
A Beautiful Proof of Affection
(To My Remembered Classmates from the Third Year)
For eight months before her mother's name day, Juana's school concerns were repeatedly interrupted by thoughts of what gift she might present on that happy occasion.
After much thought and reflection, she decided to give her a present made out of sacrifices and self-denial; to this end, she secretly saved the money she was often given.
When she had enough to carry out her plan, she went to the dressmaker and gave her the money to buy cloth and shoes. Her gift to her mother would be to present, on her name day, three little girls properly dressed—the daughters of a poor widow who was very fond of Juana and whose humble home had been overtaken by poverty.”
PASTORA GUERRA OLIVARES
EL PENECA, no. 381, March 6, 1916.
On May 15, 1916, in issue no. 391 of El Peneca, the young contributor María Victoria Bravo published the poem “She Was Not a Woman!”, dedicated to the memory of her deceased teacher, Atilana Silva Reinoso. The teacher's figure is built around two recurring metaphors: the lark, evoking a melodious voice and early-morning song, and the star, evoking light, guidance, and spiritual transcendence:
“CONTRIBUTION
SHE WAS NOT A WOMAN!
(in memory of the lark who, bearing the name Atilana Silva Reinoso, passed through the
world singing her languid song)
She was not a woman!…
She was not a woman, she who lived dreaming!
She was not a woman, she who passed through life singing!…
She was the lark of light that fled from heaven
and came into this world of restless sorrow
to sing a song.
She was a lark of light who built a nest
with violets and roses, and there, hidden,
kept her heart.
She was a star torn down from heaven
and brought to live upon this earth
in the form of a woman…
She was a star: she tore apart the heavy veils.
She was a lark: swiftly she took flight
never to return!…
She was not a woman, she who lived dreaming!
She was not a woman, she who passed through life singing!”
María Victoria Bravo.
EL PENECA, no. 391, May 15, 1916.
Benjamín Oviedo Martínez (1894-1974) published his first poetry collection, Ingenua (1913-1918). At sixteen, while in the fifth year of humanities, he published a poem honoring his first teachers. The ode, titled “My First Day at School,” became a testimony of gratitude to those who guided the earliest steps of his education:
“MY FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL
(To my first teachers, Mrs. Amelia Barra and Mrs. Berta Rencoret)
I still preserve the pleasant feelings
of that happy day when I first went to class,
that first day which makes us
conceive the sweetest dreams.
What love of study, what joy,
awoke within my innocent spirit;
what happiness and contentment, gently,
flooded my soul that day!
There I found mothers, as loving
as the very mother I had,
watchful of my conduct
and careful of my every act.
You kindle the light that illuminates
man's path through life,
from tender childhood, still half asleep,
to the gathering shadows of old age.
To you, who always with a friend's affection,
and a mother's tenderness, treated me as a son,
I owe the purest of my joys,
and in eternal gratitude I bless you!”
BENJAMIN OVIEDO MARTINEZ.
(16 years old. Fifth year of humanities)
EL PENECA, no. 210, November 25, 1912.
These verses captured the festive atmosphere of the New Year, weaving together elements of nature, the meadow, flowers and springtime:
“NEW YEAR!
Today Nature decks herself in magic beauty;
today the meadow displays
the beauty of its flowers,
the flowers brought by smiling Spring,
showing all their colors
and breathing their delicious perfumes
everywhere.
And far away, beyond the hill,
where the horizon stretches wide,
the plaintive Echo can be heard,
in its low and strange-toned voice,
softly repeating,
-like a sigh- Happy New Year.”
BENJAMIN OVIEDO MARTINEZ.
EL PENECA, no. 163, January 1, 1912.
From his position as an editor and guide, the relationship between “Magister” and his circle of readers developed into an important literary dialogue. On March 30, 1914, the young author who wrote under the pseudonym “Bruja” composed a piece for him in which aspiring writers found both a demanding critic and an encouraging mentor:
“THE POET'S DREAM
Affectionately dedicated to Mr. Benjamín Oviedo Martínez, in sincere homage and admiration for his talent
A winter night. The wind gives voice to its mournful lament, and as it passes through the bare branches of the trees they creak, making a strange sound like the grim clatter of old bones.
Not a single star shines in the heavens, and only an occasional ray of light escaping through the cracks of a door or window breaks the dense darkness.
In his simple room, seated beside a table, is the poet; his thoughtful brow framed by handsome hair, and his eyes, the reflection of an intelligent soul, also bear the painful trace of a life of sorrows.
Suddenly he rests his forehead in his hands and, fixing his gaze upon the bright flame of the lamp, seems to dream. And indeed he does: his spirit, loosened by long journeys of thought, is carried once again toward distant horizons.
And he dreams that he is standing in a great avenue. It is spring; flowers spring up at his passing, roses fall from the sky, and his wandering gaze, lost in the farthest reaches, sees nothing but flowers... always flowers, beneath the vault of heaven which, like a single diamond cut in infinity, casts a vast brilliance over the earth in a thousand different rays.
And he goes on walking-or rather gliding, for his feet do not touch the ground.
After traveling some distance in this manner, he saw at the end of the avenue a magnificent dwelling, seemingly built of moonbeams and flower petals upon a pedestal of rosy clouds. This must be the mansion of the dawn, sighed the poet; but as he tried to set foot upon the regal threshold, a universal concert thundered through the air. He stood astonished, unable to make the slightest movement, so great was his emotion!”
BRUJA.
EL PENECA, no. 280, March 30, 1914.
In the “Chats” section, “Magister” addressed the subjects of character and willpower, drawing on the classical wisdom of Plutarch. Through his reflections, he invited young readers to honest self-examination and to cultivate virtues far removed from vanity:
“CHATS
CHARACTER
Whenever I hear certain people speak of the power of their own will and of the strength of their character to command itself and obey no one but itself, I find myself wondering whether, before making such bold claims, those people have studied themselves deeply enough to understand all the complexities of their own spirit.
For, as I see it, if the will is to act freely upon our desires, subjecting them to its commands and guiding them as it chooses, the soul must first be purified to such a degree that no impulses remain within it capable of resisting those commands or diverting those orders.
And such purification of the soul implies so high a degree of perfection that few people ever attain it; and it is only natural to suppose that those who do reach such perfection will be far removed from vanity and boasting, from praising themselves and proclaiming themselves the sole sovereigns of their actions.
As Plutarch observed, he who has many vices has many masters; and in order to become the sole master of oneself, one must banish every vice capable of bending us to its will and struggle against them until they are overcome.
The displays we so commonly make are of no use, when we try to convince others of something of which we ourselves are not convinced; for that urge that leads us continually to speak of virtues and excellences we claim to possess is nothing more than a desperate effort to cover and conceal defects we have been unable-or unwilling-to correct.
Instead of telling every well-disposed person willing to listen to us-and often even those who are not-about our supposed virtues, we ought to devote ourselves to fighting our vices, for everyone has them, and to freeing ourselves from their hateful dominion. Only in this way can we attain complete independence in our actions and the free exercise of our will.
We must never forget Plutarch's saying, and must do everything in our power to keep it from becoming true of us: He who has many vices has many masters.”
MAGISTER.
EL PENECA, no. 561, August 18, 1919.
J. M. Molina Guzmán introduced and praised the figure of Francisco A. Lira. The text recognized his growing career in the world of letters:
“CONTRIBUTION
FRANCISCO A. LIRA D.
The signature of Francisco A. Lira D. is quite familiar to readers of El Peneca. It belongs to one of the most industrious contributors in that swarm of young literary talents whose forum is found in the literary pages of this magazine.
The outlines of Lira D.'s intellectual profile are already well defined: he is a poet at heart. A large part of his work has appeared in these columns, and reading it almost seems enough to reveal his personality.
On many occasions this author has shown himself to be a gifted painter of landscapes in words. In its most recent literary competition, the editorial staff of El Peneca recognized the value of his work by awarding him first prize.
A large portion of Lira's work consists of a collection of sonnets he calls ‘Profiles’: simple compositions offering affectionate praise to intelligent children. In the same spirit he has written a great number of sonnets dedicated to young intellectuals. In them, sincere encouragement is joined by a marked originality.
His work ‘Toward the Ideal’ is already in press. It is a composition in verse that distills Lira's soul. It in no way contradicts the impression I have formed of his literary personality, and I do not doubt that those who read it will feel the same. It is being printed as a sixteen-page booklet and is preceded by a ‘Frontispiece’ by Benjamín Oviedo Martínez.
The genre to which ‘Toward the Ideal’ belongs had not yet been cultivated by Francisco Lira; his work therefore reveals a new aspect of his fertile labor. If the vivid coloring of his landscapes is absent from this new production, in its place one hears the powerful cry of an artist's noble heart.
May these lines carry to its author my sincerest hope that the work he now places in the hands of the public will earn him the applause-if not of every reader, then at least of those who carry in their souls something of that sweetness of life called poetry...”
J. M. MOLINA GUZMAN.
EL PENECA, no. 334, April 12, 1915.
Under the pseudonym “Flor del Aire,” a young contributor responded emotionally to messages from women readers, revealing the weekly as a meeting place and a community:
“CONTRIBUTION
(For the readers who have asked me to write again, and especially for ‘Ida’ and ‘Flora’)
I had thought of leaving unanswered the little bouquet of crystalline phrases dedicated to me a few days ago by two great women's souls, yet I have been unable to resist the desire to string together these lines, carrying my gratitude to ‘Flora,’ ‘Ida,’ and those kind readers who ask me to return. Why is Nhina leaving ‘El Peneca’...? We'll miss her terribly... the madcap girls and the boys who know me personally have told me. I am deeply moved. Those words of affection and longing have echoed through the ruined temple of my heart like an old melody... And I ask myself: Who can that angelic ‘Ida’ be, who prays for me and cares for me from behind her anonymity...? Another unknown little friend like ‘Eira’ and ‘Blanca Lira’?
Oh!... I want them to know that in this passionate heart, a vessel filled with sorrow and Poetry, their memories will live forever!”
FLOR DEL AIRE
EL PENECA, no. 512, September 9, 1918.
In 1920, reader M. Teresa Sepúlveda B. sent in a poem containing a prayer taught to her by her grandmother. The poem reflected the oral, intergenerational transmission of faith, showing how grandmothers maintained a spiritual and affectionate bond even beyond death. Publishing compositions of this kind encouraged children's literary expression with religious and grace-filled content-in the devotional sense of the word:
“MY LITTLE VIRGIN
Beside my bed I keep
a lovely little Virgin;
Grandmother gave her to me
on the day when I had reached
five years of life.
After I die, she told me,
you must always pray to her;
and with great devotion,
and with faith in your heart,
commend me to her care.
And the years have passed
since the day she died;
for her, one Hail Mary
I always, always say,
and truly, little Virgin mine,
for myself, I pray two.”
M. Teresa Sepúlveda B.
EL PENECA, no. 589, March 1, 1920.
A Living Dialogue: Mail, Letters, Replies, and a National Community.
Beyond stories and poems, the magazine answered every letter personally, published messages exchanged among readers, and became a national hub for sharing ideas. Issue no. 2, among the first editions, published an article about “Omer Emeth.” He was one of the earliest contributors and, two years later, would take over as editor:
“NEWS FROM ‘EL PENECA’
TO OMER EMETH-If gratitude is a duty-and to well-intentioned souls it is indeed a natural satisfaction-we gladly fulfill that duty by expressing to Omer Emeth our most sincere appreciation for the beautiful, generous and thoughtful article he was kind enough to devote to ‘EL PENECA’ in the columns of El Mercurio.
‘Omer Emeth’ is not only a brilliant and engaging writer, but also a sociologist-or rather, a profound philosopher-who does honor to the publication to which he contributes. For that reason we feel greatly honored by his article.
Thank you, a thousand thanks, once again.”
EL PENECA, no. 2, November 30, 1908.
The editor (Enrique Blanchard-Chessi) took on the task of speaking directly with the penecas through “Our Replies,” within the “El Peneca Mail” section. The questions and answers were numbered as follows:
“EL PENECA MAIL
Our Replies
227. Messrs. Guillermo and Pepe Cabrera Mac Millan. Santiago. It is still limping, then. Let it be complete.
228. Mr. J. M. Torres. Valparaíso.-With pleasure; but little by little. They are good, thank you.
229. Mr. Eduardo Flores L.-Santiago.-You will not be disappointed.
230. Mr. Leopoldo Muñoz Cabrera.-Viña. My, you are a devil! Well, here we are. Many thanks.
231. Mr. Cárlos Ceppi A.-Santiago. Please stop by our office any day, between 10:30 and 11:30.
232. Mr. Pedro Alvárez L. Valparaíso. Your letter caught our attention. Yes, keep working-forward! You may always count on us. Many thanks.
233. Mr. J. G. E. Santiago. As for the artists, we do not set an age. Why not come and see us?
234. Miss Pilar Hernández. Santiago.-You are very kind; many thanks. The Editor?... He is simply called the Editor.
235. Miss Elena Guzmán. Valparaíso. When they are taken from a book, this must be stated. We prefer originals. Thank you.
236. Miss Maria Perla Maria. Santiago. Well, what an answer! But do you know who the curious one is around here? A Mr. Rebolledo... our photographer, a very capable and very good man... So there will be no taking advantage of the camera. What more would you have us tell you?
237. Miss Laurita Castillo Vega.-Valparaíso. How delighted we are by your graciousness! Thank you. No? Well, we shall wait. The Editor greatly appreciates what you send him. So does Chambeco.
238. Mr. Juan Villarroel J. Valparaíso. We shall send you a letter shortly.
239. Mr. Fidel Muñoz Cano. Viña.-The photograph and everything else are in our hands. We shall write to you shortly.
240. Miss María Bravo.-Valparaíso.-Many thanks. It is the ideas, and the effort made for them, that should be valued.
241. Miss Filomena Carvajal G.-Illapel.-Fallen on deaf ears? Certainly not. Wait and you shall see in due course.”
242. Miss Soledad Rainiere.-Santiago.-We are going to publish a list of everything accepted. Patience, then.
243. Miss Violeta O. M.-Santiago.-...But without committing ourselves to a date.
244. Mr. Sancho García-Valparaíso has its difficulties.-You may rest easy.
245. Mr. C. Heimpel.-Santiago.-They are two characters who do not interest us.
246. Miss Maria Elena Freferick.-Read what we say in no. 244.
247. Mr. Eujenio Amunátegui M.-Santiago.-Come and see us.”
EL PENECA, no. 25, May 10, 1909.
Writings, questions and contributions poured in and were published as the weekly took on a life of its own. Those whose submissions stood out were invited to join the editorial staff, working directly on material sent in by other readers:
“Notes and Comments
REQUEST
Valparaíso, July 27, 1909. Mr. Editor of ‘El Peneca.’ Santiago.
Dear Sir:
I would be most grateful if you would kindly put the following proposal to Mr. Moya: that, if he considers it appropriate, he publish in the distinguished ‘Peneca’ those beautiful scenes from Chilean history, such as the taking of the Morro de Arica, which we read with such enthusiasm, and several others that we keep as souvenirs of your distinguished ‘Peneca’; and also portraits of various Chilean heroes, such as Portales, Rodríguez, etc.
With nothing further, yours faithfully, José C. Dominguez.”
“BETWEEN FRIENDS
(To my friend Rosita, who lives in Concepción)
My unforgettable friend:
Although the distance between us is enormous, it has not extinguished the pure affection I have felt for you since that happy day when I had the joy of calling you my friend. My friend!
What a sweet and tender word, holding within it all that is noblest and most beautiful! Friendship! That mysterious perfume breathed by good souls; a small soul is incapable of feeling that heavenly gift we call love.
But have you ever stopped to consider what that word means? Or do you perhaps think it is a cold word, without purpose or form, spoken but not felt?
Do not call these poorly written lines a bore; no, they are the sincere expression of my feelings!
Your friend, who adores you. Josefina.”
EL PENECA, no. 37, August 2, 1909.
Enabling direct interaction among readers was undoubtedly an innovation for its time. Traditional mail, slow and often the only means available, was then the principal channel of communication. Zig-Zag had established its own distribution outlets for its publications, as had El Mercurio. In this way, hundreds of children in cities and remote rural settlements gradually wove a nationwide network of exchange among young readers. El Peneca became a bond of immeasurable value in a country as geographically vast-and with so many deeply isolated corners-as Chile.
“CHATS AND MESSAGES
This section will publish messages that children wish to address to one another. They must be very short, clear and respectful, in keeping with the character of the magazine.)
“1. Mr. Oscar Solari Chandon, Santiago.-Are you still fond of riddles? Answer me. Pepe.
Mr. Guillermo Gibbs II, Santiago.-I know you belong to the Boy Scouts; how could I join?-Carlos Gómez.
2. Miss Carmela Ibáñez, Talca. Are you planning to come next summer too? Your cousin Isabel.”
EL PENECA, no. 77, May 9, 1910.
“8.-Miss Julita Conde B., Valparaíso. You cannot imagine how lonely I feel now that my little brothers are ill. I have no one to play with. Everyone at home misses you. What do you say?-Edmundo Escobar M.
12.-Carlos Perez, Tacna.-My father will go next week.-Juanita Ivens.”
EL PENECA, no. 78, May 16, 1910.
“68.-Mr. Luis R. Correa.-That on the 21st of this month, your birthday, you may have spent a very happy day in the company of your dear parents and siblings is the wish of your friends-A. Cesáreo Salcent.”
71. Mr. Carlos Ahumada J., Valparaíso. Dear Sir: It gave me great pleasure to read the flattering letter you addressed to me through ‘El Peneca,’ in which you expressed your admiration for my humble articles and encouraged me to continue with still greater zeal along the literary path I have begun in the columns of this magazine. I sincerely thank you, therefore, for your advice and good wishes, and you may be assured that they have not been received with indifference. Yours very truly, Carlos E. Peterson.”
EL PENECA, no. 84, June 27, 1910.
“111. Miss A. Ponce. My dear little friend:
I was very sorry not to invite you on Sunday when we went out to the farm to gather dried peaches; but that was because I thought you were in Machalí.
Many greetings to little Ester and Cuchito. C. González.
Rancagua, July 11, 1910.
“112. Miss Olimpia Martínez R.-Exactly; disdain is almost always repaid with disdain. Is it not true, then, that by that reasoning it would become fair? (We regret having to omit a Latin phrase because it is incorrect and therefore unintelligible.) Roberto Sánchez B.
113. Miss Raquel Balmaceda L.-Present.-Dear Raquelita: You judged me very harshly by calling me ‘ungrateful,’ for you know that my illness leaves me very few hours at my disposal.
As for what you tell me about the Liceo, I can say nothing, because I have improved very little and, according to the doctor, I shall not return until I have completely recovered.
I shall expect you at home next Wednesday. I have many things to tell you. With a hug, Graciela Silva C.
114.-A. C. S.-Fearing that I might disturb the happiness I wished you, I did not write by post on your name day; but instead, please accept through this magazine my humble congratulations. M. M. T.”
Santiago, July 13, 1910.
EL PENECA, no. 87, July 18, 1910.
The editors frequently published notices concerning photographs that had been sent in and needed to be collected, either because they did not meet editorial standards or because the person pictured had not been identified. Readers also asked a wide variety of specific questions:
“PASTIMES
CORRESPONDENCE
Daniel Castañeda Marcias.-You may come and collect your photograph, because it cannot be reproduced.
Incógnita.-The book you refer to was placed on sale in the downtown bookshops.
M. Teresa Zunino Chacón.-Please let us know whether your book ‘Tears and Smiles’ is still available in bookshops, or where it may be found. We also ask you to send us your address.
Gastón Buollon B.-Write to its authors, post office no. 2.”
EL PENECA, no. 346, July 5, 1915.
“PASTIMES
In addition to the “Correspondence” section, where readers' questions were answered, the magazine introduced an innovative section of “telegraphic” messages:
“TELEGRAPHIC CORRESPONDENCE
Carlos A. Faura.-If the pieces you promise us are good, they will be published.
Roberto Flores.-Submissions must be done in India ink.
Dewet Bascuñán.-Back issues cost ten centavos and must be ordered from the manager of ‘Zig-Zag.’ Payment may be made in postage stamps.”
EL PENECA, no. 424, January 1, 1917.
“PASTIMES
Correspondence
Mr. Leonel.-We agree. We shall wait.
Mr. Hualo.-Soon.
Miss Malvaloca.-We shall be pleased to publish your composition. Do not lose heart, miss; if
we sometimes fail to answer, it is for lack of space or time, never for lack of willingness.
Mr. Fritz Conrads.-We are forwarding your question to the ‘Questions and Answers’ section of ‘Zig-Zag.’
Miss C. Bernán.-With pleasure, soon. Thank you.
Mr. Daniel E. Monega.-Soon.
Mr. Enrique Ericksen Q.-There is no doubt that you know meter well, is there? Well then, one of the pieces you have sent us contains a detail that arouses strong suspicions.
Gallery of Penecas.-We ask those who send us photographs to write the names on the backs of the photographs themselves, rather than in letters or on separate slips of paper, since these can very easily be lost, and portraits without names cannot be published.
Mr. C. Bernardino López. If the composition you send us as your own were not so well known, we would publish it under the name of its true author, Juan de Dios Peza. Do not let this happen again.
Mr. L. Dévia and Román. Patience, sir. Your turn will come.
Miss Manuela González. Keep the material for your pastimes to yourself.
Mr. Modesto Ortiz R. We believe that a formula for making ink has been given in the ‘Questions and Answers’ section of ‘Zig-Zag.’ We do not have one ourselves; otherwise we would gladly give it to you.
Mr. ‘I Do Better Alone.’ You will understand that it is impossible for us to act as messengers. We have no right to meddle in your affairs, nor to involve our readers in matters that interest no one but you. As your signature itself says, ‘you do better alone.’
Miss Maria Conque. We have repeated many times that the only requirement for contributing is to send in good work.
Miss Rebeca Retamales. Send something better.
Miss Cara Sucia. We are tired of repeating that there is no charge.
Mr. Oscar Chávez. If you knew how many pastimes we have waiting, you certainly would not demand such speed from us.
Mr. Jorge Steck M. If every contributor to this section sent us pastimes as good and orderly as yours, we would spare ourselves many headaches and save a great deal of time. Many thanks.
Miss Sibilia Loreno.-Take a little more care when you send us pastimes. Both are wrong; one need only count the letters in the names of the poets cited and those in the anagram to see the error. The letters in the two poets' names total 39, while the anagram has 36. What do you make of that?
This time we have corrected it, but we do not always have the time.
Mr. Jorge Hidalgo R. Very good. Many thanks.”
EL PENECA, no. 606, June 28, 1920.
The magazine opened sections on “Sewing” and “Drawing Lessons.” Its “Ingenious Games” offered inventions and ideas for building, creating and entertaining oneself. Competitions awarded prizes to the winners in the following issue or the one after that.
The range of educational games was broad and pursued the goal of training and guiding children through humanistic and scientific learning. Instructions covered different skills related to applied arts and trades, including needlework and basic carpentry.
In 1908, the magazine published a message addressed especially to girls: a letter of advice from an aunt to her niece, teaching her how to embroider a pair of little shoes. In a warm, familiar tone, the aunt evoked the intimacy of the home and sought, through this manual activity, to encourage domestic virtues in the girl:
“NEEDLEWORK
Let us begin. First of all you need 20 centimeters of pleated fabric. That cloth is made up of four parts, since for the two shoes you need four equal pieces. Once you have that, trace the design: those fresh, ripe cherries...
As for color, white is always the most elegant; you may use fine silk or light satin and then fold it. Choose whichever best sets off the embroidery.
I believe, dear little niece, that you can make this small surprise as a gift for your little brother, whom you can make happier still if you fill it with sweets.
Until next week, dear Inesita; a thousand caresses from your aunt.”
DADE.
EL PENECA, no. 6, December 28, 1908.
Issue no. 116 included instructions for children to build a miniature airplane, christened the “Mono Plan,” another example of the magazine's interest in encouraging creativity and experimentation:
“A TINY BLÉRIOT
Airplanes for Children
If only I had an airplane!... So thousands of children exclaimed enviously while Cattaneo flew over Santiago in his Blériot... Ah, if only I had an airplane!...
Well, nothing could be easier... You simply have to build one.
Any intelligent child can become an airplane builder. Yes indeed: and all that is needed is a strip of wood, bamboo, cardboard, heavy paper, wire, carpenter's glue and... a little skill, which is quickly acquired and costs nothing.
Look, children, at the very simple drawings on this page, study them carefully, and follow the instructions I am about to give you. In less than eight days you will have an airplane that flies wonderfully.”
EL PENECA, no. 116, February 6, 1911.
The magazine regularly published “riddles,” “puzzles,” “rebus puzzles,” “mathematical problems,” and a “philatelic” section on the history of postage stamps and collecting techniques. “Drawing lessons” also appeared periodically, such as the one included in issue no. 134 of June 12, 1911.
The “Our Competitions” section, which ran from June 5, 1911 (issue no. 133) through December 27, 1920 (issue no. 632), organized competitions involving “charades,” “numerical logogriphs,” “anagrams,” and many other challenges. Winners and the “solvers” who successfully completed the puzzles were recognized by name.
Two distinct competitions were introduced: a monthly competition for readers in northern and southern Chile, and a fortnightly competition exclusively for those in the capital region:
“CHATS.-OUR COMPETITIONS
The growing success of the Pastimes and Intellectual Recreation section of ‘El Peneca’ obliges us to pay particular attention to the wishes of our readers in the North and South of the Republic.
An enthusiastic peneca writes from Iquique: ‘How do you expect us to take part in solving problems, charades, logogriphs and riddles when, if we send in an answer, it will always arrive too late? Why doesn't ‘El Peneca’ open a special section for us and accept our solutions no matter how late they arrive?’
Our northern readers are right. Their distance from the capital makes an innovation necessary. Accordingly, ‘El Peneca’ today opens a series of competitions whose deadlines will allow all our readers to display their skill in solving our problems.
Monthly Competition.-This competition will remain open until July 6 and will be followed each month by others.
The prizes will be awarded as follows: lists and groups of solvers will be formed and if, for example, ten solvers have correctly answered the problems in the same series, the winner's name will be drawn by lot. We shall publish the names of each of the solvers taking part in the competition, together with the number of correct solutions each has submitted.
Fortnightly Competition. The fortnightly competition will run from today until June 15 and, like the previous one, will be repeated every two weeks.
Solutions must arrive by the 15th of next month.
The prizes will be:
1st prize: a six-month subscription to ‘Zig-Zag,’ or a one-year subscription to ‘Selecta’ or ‘Familia.’
2nd prize: a one-year subscription to ‘El Peneca.’”
EL PENECA, no. 133, June 5, 1911.
“Omer Emeth” defended the publication of “Games and Pastimes.” He argued that the magazine's first purpose was to entertain, not to bore readers with dense scientific lessons. He maintained that mental games-such as riddles, rebuses and puzzles-helped children's cognitive development by fostering critical abilities such as observation, memory and reasoning. He concluded by quoting a riddle and calling the critical reader (perhaps an adult) a ‘jumento’-a donkey:
“EDITORIAL
Games of Wit
‘What purpose, what usefulness can there be in those games and pastimes with which you fill as many as two pages of ‘El Peneca’? Would it not be better to fill such valuable space with a good lesson in morals, history or geography, with an explanation of some point of physics or chemistry-with something scientific, in short?... Enough of charades, logogriphs, riddles, rebuses and all the rest of those useless things!...’
-So speaks one of our readers, who must surely have lost his memory, if not his judgment. But let us examine the matter.
The first commandment of every Magazine, whether its readers are young or old, is: ‘Do not bore them!’ Which means that ‘El Peneca’ has no room for supposedly scientific droning of the kind this reader sometimes sends us, and which we take particular care to throw into the wastebasket as completely useless.
The much-criticized pastimes, on the other hand, are extremely useful to a child's mental development.
Let us take our examples from the latest issue. On page 14 there is a picture of a drawing room with its furniture and decoration. According to the ‘problem,’ the reader must find seventeen faults in that picture that are not immediately visible. Is the mental work a child performs in examining every part of the furniture, the fireplace, doors and windows of the room intellectually useless? Does it not develop the child's powers of observation, memory-which provides models or points of comparison-and reasoning?
On page 13 there is a numerical logogriph whose solution, though not very difficult, requires the child to know something of geography, grammar and natural history.
Is it useless for the solver to refresh that knowledge in memory while playing?
The same may be said of the riddle-very easy and beautifully versified-and of the charade on the same page (1).
Those four ‘pastimes’ are four exercises in mental gymnastics, capable of developing in an intelligent child curiosity-the mother of science-memory, imagination and reasoning. Let us hear no more, then, about their uselessness, and above all let no one try to bore us with pseudo-scientific passages that, rather than lessons, would be sleeping draughts for children.
EL PENECA, no. 122, March 20, 1911.
When El Peneca was founded in 1908, the situation of children in Chile was dire. Infant mortality exceeded 20 percent across much of the country, with malnutrition, endemic disease and labor exploitation among the main causes. Thousands of children worked from an early age in inhumane conditions: in mines, they completed full shifts underground; in agriculture, they served as cheap labor; and in cities they performed street trades as shoe shiners, newspaper sellers-the so-called canillitas-or servants in affluent homes. Childhood survival was precarious and a daily struggle; abandonment and early death were common fates. “One case that has in fact been studied by historians in this field is that of the boys and girls who for many years were employed in glass factories. Figures are available for the percentage of workers employed in the pottery, ceramics and glass industries between 1903 and 1926, and it is striking that during this period children accounted for almost 30 percent of the total workforce and never less than 20 percent”. This reality reflected both the absence of effective labor legislation and society's tolerance of child exploitation. It was not until August 26, 1920 that the first Compulsory Primary Education Law (Law No. 3,654) was enacted, requiring four years of schooling for children between the ages of seven and thirteen. Enforcement was slow and uneven, and child labor remained widespread for decades. And although poor families could not afford to buy it, El Peneca planted an idea: children deserved something better.
Education as Redemption.
Blanchard-Chessi and Emilio Vaisse knew this. From its earliest years, therefore, the magazine carried on a sustained campaign on behalf of children. It published portraits of intellectuals devoted to education, photographs of secondary schools and elementary schools, and articles encouraging children to value study.
It showcased emblematic institutions such as the Valparaíso Boys' Lyceum and Santiago's Instituto Nacional. In this way, the abstract idea of the “homeland” descended into classrooms and schoolyards. It also portrayed children from humbler schools, such as the pupils of Ovalle's public school, whose photograph appeared in issue no. 94 on September 5, 1910. Through photography, the magazine showed that children with few resources, too, were on the path of education.
In 1910, Chile celebrated one hundred years of independence. El Peneca marked the occasion with a concrete act: it organized a charity campaign for poor children.
The magazine asked for donations of clothing, toys and food. It also called for volunteers-especially artistically talented children-to organize a benefit event. Through this platform, it mobilized material resources and children's volunteer labor; at the same time, it experimented with a distinctive way of incorporating children's participation into the national story.
The appeal was clear: donate, volunteer, and register children and families from poor communities so that they too could celebrate Chile's Centennial:
“GREAT EXTRAORDINARY CENTENNIAL ISSUE!
THE EDITOR OF ‘EL PENECA’
asks charitable persons kindly to send him
NEW OR USED CLOTHES AND TOYS
to be distributed to poor little children during the Centennial celebrations.
He will also be grateful to COMMERCIAL ESTABLISHMENTS for anything that may be useful to poor children and that they may wish to offer for this purpose.
Let us make the children happy!
Let us give them clothes, food, sweets and toys!”
“TO THE READERS OF ‘EL PENECA’
who wish to help us personally in this effort to bring joy to poor children during the Centennial, we would be grateful if they would come to our office between 11 A.M. and noon, and between 6 and 7 P.M. If they know music and singing, so much the better, for an idea we have in mind: we wish to organize a charity festival.”
ADDRESS: SANTIAGO, TEATINOS 666.
EL PENECA, no. 90, August 8, 1910.
To that end, the editorial staff opened a national dialogue and invited readers to send ideas on how the celebration might be held with special consideration for poor children:
“Celebrating the Centennial
TO THE READERS OF ‘EL PENECA’
I wish to call your attention to a point you seem not to have noticed, for I too wish to take my small part in Miss Posada's idea and to give her suggestion another direction.
You are all good; all of you carry in your hearts a seed of charity and love. Awaken the first, then, and direct it wisely toward the second.
Miss Posada says that we should collect money and give it to ‘poor’ children. Her idea is excellent and worthy of a young girl's soul; nevertheless, I say something else: give it to ‘orphaned’ children.”
Raquel Olimpia MARTINEZ R.
EL PENECA, no. 76, May 2, 1910.
The editor worked actively with the magazine's clubs to raise money, announcing the sums collected and the names of donors. In issue no. 95 (September 12, 1910), he announced that a “GREAT CHILDREN'S CONCERT” would be held on September 14 at the TEATRO VARIEDADES, located between Huérfanos and Agustinas streets in Santiago.
After the event, the magazine published photographs of the young artists who had taken part. It also provided details about the organizers, reinforcing its message of solidarity:
“The Children's Festival
The Great ‘EL PENECA’ Concert
Because of the shortness of time, in our last issue we were unable to give full details of the great concert organized by ‘El Peneca’ for the benefit of poor children, which took place on Wednesday the 14th of this month at the Teatro de Variedades.
First of all, we must place on record the goodwill and boundless generosity of the owners of the Kinora Biograph, of the Compañía Cinematográfica del Pacífico, who placed both the theater and the motion-picture apparatus at our disposal for this charitable undertaking. The same must be said of the distinguished maestro Don Fernando Navarrete, who philanthropically assisted us by accompanying the children on piano in several numbers-a valuable contribution that saved us from more than one mishap. We must also thank Don Eleodoro Nieto for his willingness to play the role of Maestro Chambeco.”
EL PENECA, no. 97, September 26, 1910.
On October 3, 1910 (issue no. 98), the toys and money raised were distributed. Thousands of families gathered outside the Zig-Zag publishing offices at Teatinos 666, waiting to receive the gifts.
El Peneca also portrayed humble workers with respect. One example was Miguel Zamorano, a newspaper seller at the Portal Fernández Concha on Santiago's Plaza de Armas. The author described him as a dignified, hardworking man, well regarded by the citizens who regularly bought their newspapers and magazines from him. Although he was never formally a member of the journalists' association, Zamorano was called a “journalist” because of his close connection to news and the public. He represented the “honest poor man”:
“ZAMORANO
Yesterday afternoon I went downtown with my mother to buy a few things for the house.
Suddenly, as we passed the Portal Fernández Concha at the corner of Estado Street, I bought ‘El Peneca’ from the likable lame Zamorano, as people affectionately call this disabled man who has discovered the secret of earning an honest living without having to resort to public charity, as so many who ought to work do.
His contact with men from every level of society, with ladies, young people, politicians and students who come to his rough counter in search of newspapers, has made Zamorano quite a character. There, on the west sidewalk of Estado Street at the corner of the Plaza de Armas, he may be seen without fail every day from sunrise to sunset, seated on a rough wooden crate-or standing, gracefully supported by his wooden leg-beside another inseparable crate in which he keeps for sale every newspaper and magazine published in Santiago and Valparaíso.
Such is Miguel Zamorano, the one-legged and one-armed man of the Portal Fernández Concha-a journalist, as he calls himself, though he has never entered the Circle of Journalists.
Everyone likes him because he is truly dignified and honest, and exceedingly hardworking.
Long live Zamorano!”
Ines ESPEJO DIAZ.
EL PENECA, no. 89, August 1, 1910.
When an earthquake struck Italy, the magazine and its readers organized a campaign to raise funds for the victims. Under the heading “The Children's Offering,” the editors praised the solidarity shown by Chilean children:
“WE shall never forget the spontaneity with which our readers answered the appeal we made on behalf of the orphans of Italy after the earthquake that devastated Messina and Calabria.”
EL PENECA, no. 21, April 12, 1909.
The same issue included a photographic record documenting the lives of working-class children in Valparaíso. The images showed humble classrooms and pupils taking part in school plays, as well as children jumping in public parks and along cobbled streets, newsboys and newspaper delivery boys. These portrayals and everyday scenes revealed both childhood innocence and the harsh realities of child labor. El Peneca portrayed the philanthropist Don Manuel Acevedo, who founded and ran the newsboys' home in Valparaíso. Photographs of these children were presented as illustrated charity and as an example of “benevolent protection”:
“VALPARAÍSO NEWSBOYS' HOME
Thanks to the initiative of the industrious Valparaíso businessman Don Manuel Acevedo, the city has an institution of benefit to those cheerful and noisy messengers known as ‘suplementeros,’ who carry the printed pages of Valparaíso and the capital from house to house.
The Newsboys' Home provides shelter for children who sell newspapers and, thanks to its director and founder, who has thought of everything, nourishment for both body and soul. There at Avenida Colón 2, the ‘suplementeros’ have a good dining room and numerous classrooms.”
EL PENECA, no. 21, April 12, 1909.
Catholic Kindergarten: Order and Obedience.
At the same time, in 1908 El Peneca published a photograph of pupils at a Catholic kindergarten. The children, dressed in sailor uniforms, were photographed in disciplined poses that exalted obedience, order and submission to authority-central values in the education of the period:
“AT THE CATHOLIC KINDERGARTEN
Serjio Lecaros F., Eduardo Laval M. and Osvaldo del Río A., three pupils who received unanimous honors.
THE prize-giving ceremony at the Catholic Kindergarten directed by Mrs. Fanny de Retamal Balboa was held not long ago with outstanding success.”
EL PENECA, no. 6, December 28, 1908.
This section formed part of a narrative that celebrated the country's educated and political elite, reinforcing the idea that charity was a moral duty of the upper classes.
On June 7, 1909 (issue no. 29), Don Fernando Ramón Orrego Vicuña was portrayed. He was the son of a man of letters and had begun wearing long trousers, a symbolic rite of passage into adolescence.
In issue no. 46 (October 4, 1909), the magazine published a photograph of members of the Río Montt, Río Aldunate and Río Castillo families. These families belonged to the country's political and social elite.
The images linked bloodline, surname and power, suggesting that national leadership was hereditary. On May 23, 1910 (issue no. 79), the grandchildren of naval hero Arturo Prat appeared: “Arturito and Camilito Undurraga Prat.”
The “Social Life” section elevated the nation's military and political figures. Among those featured were Jorge Huneeus, Minister of Justice and Public Education; Enrique Barrenechea, director of the library of the Instituto Nacional; and Commander Don Jorge Barceló Lira, director of the Military School.
On July 11, 1910 (issue no. 86), it published an image of Williams Rebolledo Ibáñez dressed as a sailor, presenting him as “the descendant of two illustrious Chileans,” “grandson of Admiral Williams Rebolledo and of Don Adolfo Ibáñez.”
Alongside these children, the magazine introduced infant prodigies such as six-year-old Claudio Arrau, nicknamed the “Chilean Mozart,” whose artistic precocity was used to celebrate national talent:
“A MUSICAL PRODIGY
IT gives us genuine pleasure to present to our readers the portrait of little Claudito Arrau León, a true prodigy of musical talent who is not yet six years old and plays at the piano works by masters such as Beethoven, Mozart, Bach, etc. His only musical studies have been those he has undertaken on his own, spontaneously, through observation and his endless questions.”
EL PENECA, no. 46, October 6, 1909.
The magazine also showed children from other parts of the world. It published news about European princes, heirs to fortunes and children of tsars-images that constructed an imaginary world of prestige and sophistication. On July 5, 1909 (issue no. 33), it announced the birth of the “future Germanic emperor. Prince Wilhelm, eldest son of the heir to the German throne. Born July 4, 1906.” The item reflected admiration for European aristocracies and validated a social order founded on lineage. On July 11, 1910 (issue no. 86), brothers Marshall and Henry Field, heirs to one of the largest American fortunes, appeared alongside Tsarevich Alexei Nikolaevich, heir to the Russian tsar.
The text presented Ramón Barros Luco (1910-1915) not simply as a head of state but as an almost patriarchal figure who personally attended this charitable event. The title “His Excellency” and the emphasis on his physical presence (“with the attendance of H.E. the President of the Republic”) sought to invest the occasion with an aura of solemnity and supreme legitimacy. By distributing toys to “little orphans,” Barros Luco embodied the father of the nation caring for its most vulnerable children. It was an image of the State as family, with the president as provider and protector:
“NEWS
FOR POOR CHILDREN
A beautiful and heartwarming act took place last Monday at the Protectora de la Infancia, where, in the presence of His Excellency the President of the Republic, Don Ramón Barros Luco, toys purchased with money raised by the boarding pupils of the Instituto Nacional were distributed to the little orphans. This charitable act should serve as an example for others to follow.
We must indeed remember poor children who have no comforts and who are even less able to enjoy the delights that come with owning a toy.
We are also pleased to inform our readers that ‘El Mercurio,’ as we did during the Centennial, collected toys to give to poor children for the New Year.
It is therefore highly gratifying to us that today others are continuing the work we carried out in September with the help of our contributors.
EL PENECA, no. 111, January 2, 1911.
Set against the solidarity promoted by the weekly, the story of Rockefeller told by contributor Antuco Bezadenell, when transplanted into the Chilean context, took on an ironic quality. A child working in a mine or factory had virtually no chance of imitating those immigrants who, according to legend, had risen from nothing-even if they took turns wearing the same clothes simply to survive. If a child worked twelve hours in a glass factory or in a mine shaft and died of consumption, or of silicosis eating away at miners' lungs, at the age of twelve, then under this logic the blame lay neither with the employer nor the system, but with the child himself for lacking sufficient “fortitude.” The anecdote was thus reduced to a moral as simple as it was cruel: “Rockefeller, one of the richest men in the world, began his life in the most terrible poverty.”
“DIFFICULT BEGINNINGS
We must never lose heart because of poverty and difficulties at the beginning of our lives. The anecdote you are about to read offers excellent proof of this. It shows how Rockefeller, one of the richest men in the world, began his life in the most terrible poverty.
Rockefeller left his homeland while still very young to seek his fortune in the United States. At about the same time, and with the same intentions, a friend of his named Schmidt set out as well. Rockefeller and Schmidt were then so poor that they owned no clothes other than those they were wearing.
One day, returning from the factory in New York, where they both worked, they were so distracted that Rockefeller accidentally stepped on a dog sleeping on the sidewalk. The animal cried out and, enraged by the pain, attacked Rockefeller. Fortunately it did not manage to bite him, but it did tear his clothes so badly that they could no longer be worn. The future millionaire was in despair. His meager savings were not enough to buy new clothes. What was he to do? How could he go to work the next day?
He was still thinking it over when his companion had an idea.
The factory operated day and night. The next day Schmidt asked to work the night shift, and the employer agreed.
Thus Rockefeller went to the factory and worked all day, returned home, undressed, and Schmidt put on the clothes and worked through the night.
Today both men are immensely rich. It is clear, therefore, that no one should despair merely because he is poor. Work and courage can carry a man from the harshest misery to the most astonishing wealth.”
Adapted by
ANTUCO BEZADENELL RIVEZ B.
EL PENECA, no. 325, February 8, 1915.
El Peneca's “Social Life” section showed a contradictory Chile. Its pages placed side by side the poor child who received a toy during the Centennial and the wealthy child portrayed as a future heir to power.
The magazine offered readers a mirror in which inequality appeared as a natural fact, softened by charity but never questioned as a structural problem.
Yet by portraying poor children with dignity and workers with respect, El Peneca planted a seed of social awareness. In that sense, it reflected its era while also anticipating what was to come.
The development of illustrated stories as a form of mass entertainment had its roots in Europe before becoming firmly established in the United States. In 1869, the German artist Wilhelm Busch published “Max und Moritz, eine Bubengeschichte in sieben Streichen” (Max and Moritz, a Story of Seven Boyish Pranks) in the newspaper Fliegende Blätter (Flying Leaves). Considered a precursor of the modern comic, this illustrated story presented a sequential narrative in panels accompanied by humorous verse. Max and Moritz's repeated and malicious pranks against their neighbors eventually provoked collective revenge, leading to an ending that was both comic and dark for its two young protagonists.
In 1895, Richard Felton Outcault created “The Yellow Kid”, published in Joseph Pulitzer's New York World. It introduced speech balloons and a clearly defined narrative structure, including captions, helping to consolidate the comic-strip format in the American press. Cultural exchange between Europe and the United States marked a milestone in the evolution of comics: German illustrators who emigrated to the United States, such as Rudolph Dirks-creator of “The Katzenjammer Kids” in 1897, inspired by Max and Moritz-adapted the European style to the American market. Artists influenced one another, while others copied characters and techniques, giving rise to new series. The genre emerged as the first mass cultural phenomenon of the modern era. Daily comic strips and the earliest comic books revolutionized the newspaper market, demonstrating an unprecedented ability to drive sales of newspapers, magazines and evening papers. They created an innovative narrative language combining image and text. Chile did not remain outside this revolution. Pioneer publications such as El Peneca adopted the format and skillfully integrated comics and illustrated stories with traditional literary content. This fusion made a distinctive contribution to Chilean popular culture.
The distinction between comics and illustrated stories was not sharply defined, since the two formats shared features that often overlapped. Both comics and illustrated stories could be self-contained-a complete story in a single installment-occupy a full page, or appear in serial form. Illustrated stories tended to be more literary, closer to the illustrated short story, with narrative “captions” carrying much of the storytelling. Comics, by contrast, tended toward greater visual autonomy, using panel sequences driven by action and dialogue in speech balloons, or by “didascalia”. Faced with the high cost and copyright restrictions affecting foreign productions, chiefly European and American, Zig-Zag's strategic response was to create its own versions of these formats, drawing on national creative talent and carefully adapting them to Chilean habits of consumption and cultural particularities.
The first half of the twentieth century in Chile was a period of intense innovation led by a pioneering group of illustrators, caricaturists, journalists, writers and scriptwriters. Zig-Zag brought together academically trained artists and self-taught creators alike. In this dynamic environment, artists produced comics and illustrated stories while experimenting with panels of many shapes and sizes. Chilean authors, most of them anonymous, created works that introduced innovations, blended foreign influences and adapted them for Chilean readers. The pages held a mosaic of short comics, some consisting of only three panels, while others filled an entire page. Some were short-lived; others endured because they became a principal attraction, such as “Chambeco,” who grew into a beloved recurring figure.
In the first issue, dated November 23, 1908, the magazine printed its first single-panel cartoon, occupying half a page and showing a father scolding his son while the mother stood in the background:
Father: Be obedient, son, and don't cry, and remember that in this world there is only one mother.
Boy: Thank God there's only one, because at this rate, if there were another I'd already be in the next world.
Issue no. 2 (November 30, 1908) published “How to Catch a Fly,” “At the Barbershop,” and “A Silent Story.” Issue no. 11 (February 1, 1909) included “An Astonishing Swing,” a strip of only three panels showing children amazed by their own mischief.
In issue no. 16 (March 8, 1909), the cartoon “Zis zas, Cataplum chinchin” was designed anonymously in the same minimalist style. Issue no. 12 (February 7, 1909) featured “At the Final Examinations: Examinees and... Penecas,” with small panels of varying sizes. This technique of overlapping panels in different dimensions created a brisk, modern rhythm that was daring for its time.
The illustrated story “The Adventures of Caligula the Donkey” appeared in issue no. 21 on April 12, 1909, spread across two pages. It depicted the rivalry between the donkey and his owner, Don Esculapio, through scenes of absurd humor involving animals and humans. In comics such as “The Old Cat,” “The Wooden Man,” and “Jumbo the Detective,” sixteen tiny panels on a single page created a narrative structure advanced for the period. The series “Things Chinese Children Do” and “The Adventures of the Chinese Children” (issue no. 21, April 12, 1909) portrayed three Asian children whose long braids were used as a comic and narrative device. Today this may read as stereotype, but at the time it was presented as a way of introducing Chilean children to other cultures.
“The Drawbacks of Progress,” published in issue no. 217 on January 13, 1913, imagined what food would be like in 1997 and offered a futuristic vision in which people consumed food pills instead of fresh produce. In “The Night Tailor,” published in issue no. 268 on January 5, 1914, the artist used two-color sequences. The story paid tribute to trades practiced solely through the virtue of innate talent.
The silent comic “The Best Is the Enemy of the Good,” in issue no. 273 (February 9, 1914), dispensed with dialogue and relied entirely on visual humor. “The Springs,” in the same issue, used semicircular panels in place of the traditional square structure.
In issue no. 314 (November 23, 1914), characters escaped the boundaries of traditional panels. Round frames interacted freely across the page to simulate an action scene in which children chased their pets. The device transformed the whole page into a single field of play.
In “The Two Enemies,” issue no. 391 (May 15, 1916), square, rectangular and semicircular panels were aligned directly against one another without empty space between them.
Issue no. 436 (March 26, 1917) featured “The Gambler and the Devil,” whose characters had disproportionately large heads, deliberately breaking with conventional anatomy.
Raúl Figueroa, “Chao,” created the comic character “Cachencho,” embodying the outsider archetype. His first episode, “Seven Days in the Life of a Finger-Sucker,” debuted in issue no. 3 (December 7, 1908). Structured as a single-page sequence, it used seven caricatures to warn young readers about the dangers of bad habits. On March 29, 1909, Figueroa published “The Sad Story of Cachencho: What Happened to Him in Six Days” in issue no. 19. The character's success prompted a second installment in issue no. 21, dated April 12 of that year. Through the protagonist's misfortunes, the comic conveyed a clear moral lesson about the consequences of disobedience and lack of virtue:
“THE SAD STORY OF CACHENCHO.
WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM IN SIX DAYS.
1. Cachencho also had the bad habit of eating dirt.
2. One day he had the misfortune to swallow a cherry pit along with the dirt.
3. The consequences were not long in coming. A cherry-tree shoot sprang from his liver.
4. And that shoot grew into a shrub.
5. And the shrub into a little tree, which he himself watered unconsciously with his tears.
6. Until at last it turned him into a gigantic tree, from whose branches children hung to eat the cherries it produced in abundance...”
EL PENECA, no. 21, April 12, 1909.
“The Adventures of Sánchez, words by Cabo Moya, illustrations-without music-by Marius” (Luis Fernando Rojas, “Marius”) began in issue no. 108 (December 12, 1910) and concluded on January 23, 1911, in issue no. 114. The series followed the chaotic adventures of Sánchez, a poor and courageous but immature and stubborn character. Sánchez longed to become a contributor to El Peneca. His first failure was absurd: he could not even manage to insert his manuscript into the mailbox. Tormented by poverty, he developed a fixed idea of emigrating to “America” to seek his fortune. The obsession drove him through a succession of misadventures: stealing bicycles, stowing away aboard ship, being swallowed by a whale that sneezed him back out, becoming a sailor, and seeing his American dream cut short when he was returned to Valparaíso. There, having learned nothing, he fell into still more trouble, ending with his final disappearance: he climbed into a balloon and vanished forever among the clouds.
In “The Effects of a Year at School,” issue no. 21 (April 12, 1909), Emilio Álvarez, “Pun-TT,” satirized children's struggle to remain orderly throughout the school year. Álvarez also created one of the most emblematic characters in the very first issue: “Maestro Chambeco.” This unusual clown-pedagogue became the soul of the weekly, masterfully blending education and entertainment. His appearance was unmistakable: a pointed nose, slender figure and elastic movements. His character was both naïve and wise, a mixture of kindness and tenderness. He taught the alphabet through acrobatics, games and rhythmic verse. The story also featured a small boy nicknamed “Bebé,” proud of knowing the alphabet and arithmetic. “Chambeco” put him to the test. When he discovered that “Bebé” had not yet mastered his letters, he comforted him and began teaching him, forming each letter with his own body:
EL PENECA, no. 1, November 23, 1908.
In issue no. 2, dated November 30, 1908, “Chambeco” could be seen teaching his pupil Bebé by performing the letters “C” and “D” with acrobatic poses. The little boy interacted with his teacher, expressing his delight in verse:
“Bebé, with greatest joy,
watched Chambeco
perform his acrobatics,
and at each clever trick he cried:
This is exactly what I wanted!
If A and B already
I have learned from you myself
through your entertaining game,
teach me now the letter C,
and grateful I shall be.”
“Chambeco” became the children's favorite character. The poems accompanying the panels reinforced his lessons and created a unique sense of complicity, showing that learning could be a playful adventure.
In issue no. 25 (May 10, 1909), José Foradori immortalized “Chambeco” in a close-up portrait that filled the entire cover. Charged with expression, the image showed the teaching clown at the height of his appeal.
In issue no. 63 of January 31, 1910, “Pepin” illustrated only his face beside a Peneca waving from the top of a globe.
The character inspired an unusual devotion among young readers. Children eagerly awaited his lessons and antics. Once the alphabet lessons had been completed, readers grew concerned about his fate; some even wondered whether he had died. Grief over his unexpected departure produced a collective reaction: “The children loved him, missed him, and demanded his return.” For many readers the character was not fictional but a real teacher, and his disappearance created an emotional void that the magazine's editors had to address. The answer came in later issues, which incorporated the children's own voices:
“Tributes continue to the
Unwavering Maestro ‘Chambeco’
Santiago, July 30, 1909.-Present.-Mr. Editor of ‘El Peneca’-Dear and respected sir:
The same thing happened to me as to Miss Blanca Rainerie Lanes: my tears would have been enough to form a river when I learned from ‘El Peneca’ the terrible and sad news that Bebé had eaten our Maestro Chambeco.
But you cannot imagine, sir, how delighted I was when I read the latest issue of ‘El Peneca,’ where you tell us that Chambeco is alive, though poor and old, and so very much alive that he asks us to write and tell him whether we are pleased with him. I certainly am; at least, I have taken such a deep liking to him-so very deep-that I cannot express it either to you or to him. Respectfully yours, A.S.S.”
Celia Diaz Palacios
EL PENECA, no. 34, July 12, 1909.
“Viña del Mar, July 6, 1909-To the illustrious Maestro Chambeco:
I hope, dear little Chambeco,
that soon you will appear
upon the pages of ‘El Peneca,’
to make us laugh again.
Come out, then, my dear teacher,
for I promise I shall be
a diligent pupil,
with so very much to learn.
We love Chambeco,
whether big or small,
whether child or old man,
whether poor or rich.
Accept, dear little Chambeco,
my humble inspiration;
God willing, very soon
your heart will soften.”
Anina Sanhueza Rodriguez.
EL PENECA, no. 34, July 12, 1909.
“The tributes conclude for the
Unwavering Maestro Chambeco
Tell Chambeco that I am very sad because he left, and that I was very pleased with his wise lessons.
Farewell from a reader who loves ‘El Peneca.’”
Yours sincerely, María Castro A.
EL PENECA, no. 35, July 19, 1909.
With the departure of editor Enrique Blanchard-Chessi, the magazine officially announced the “Death of the Honorable Chambeco” with a commemorative illustration in orange-sepia tones and a melancholy poem formally marking his departure:
“DEATH OF THE HONORABLE ‘MAESTRO CHAMBECO’
My heart already dried from so much, so very much weeping, I know I shall bring you sorrow, for it pains me deeply to announce that ‘Chambeco’ has died.
The teacher's health grew worse by the moment: he was no longer the wise writer, nor the creator with his constant little laugh...
No longer did he smoke his ‘cigarettes’; his appearance was funereal... To recover from his illness he traveled first to Catillo and then to Chillán.
‘Bebé,’ ever attentive and devoted, followed him; the little boy begged it so, and his plaintive voice moved the teacher!...
The boy is desolate... for cruel illness has left him bedridden. Bebé murmurs at his side: Lord... show him mercy!
Chambeco is going to die... and Bebé, before a table in that accursed room, thinks that by some clever trick he can stand in Death's way.
-I shall make my will... Farewell, beloved magazine!... Do not raise a monument to me... (At this moment Bebé sobs uncontrollably!...).
And he tried to speak... but could not; his reason was gone... he managed only the word forgiveness; Death, with its harsh breath, blew upon his heart!
His soul, like a white dove, spread its wings in haste; the anguished forest moaned, and the sun beyond a distant hill hid its tearful face!!!...”
JULIO DELL ORTO PRIETO.
EL PENECA, no. 115, January 30, 1911.
In November 1911, Walter Barbier undertook the revival of the beloved “Maestro Chambeco.” He reintroduced him in a new comic format while preserving the essential traits-the pointed nose and slender body-that made him instantly recognizable. Readers welcomed his return enthusiastically; the editorial office was flooded with letters celebrating the teacher's miraculous comeback:
“MAESTRO CHAMBECO
(first series)
It has been a long time since our readers had news of Maestro Chambeco. You should know that poor Chambeco was without work for a long while and lived in the greatest poverty. So poor was he that once he had to make one sardine serve as three meals for three days.”
EL PENECA, no. 156, November 13, 1911.
Walter Barbier secured his place as one of the leading exponents of comics and illustrated stories through series such as “The Levalarga Family,” “Ño Carmelo's September Eighteenth,” “Paco, Quico and Caco,” “Little Barrabás,” “The Adventure of Huauhuau,” “Pepino the Carpenter,” “The Empanada War,” and “Semibreve and His Accordion.” For years he accompanied the weekly as an illustrator as well, providing artwork for numerous literary pieces. Humor and satire also occupied a prominent place, as demonstrated by the series “Cain's Vacation.” In issue no. 174, dated March 18, 1912, the irrepressible “Cain II Piña” starred in one installment. Mischievous and carefree, his adventures usually ended in comic mishaps. Its simple graphic style and text, combining irony with an implicit moral, hinted at lessons about the consequences of impulsive actions:
“CAIN'S VACATION
Day VIII
1. Walking along the riverbank, the incorrigible Cain II Piña spots a fisherman's net stretched across the water.
2. ‘A perfect chance to get myself a hammock for my afternoon nap!’ Cain says to himself; and since the word ‘somebody else's’ does not exist for him, he pulls out the net and drags it home as cool as you please, with one or two silversides still tangled in it.
3. He hangs the hammock between two trees. And after placing Corbata, Chaleco and Calcetín in it....
4. He climbs in as well, and all four animals settle down to sleep their siesta comfortably.
5. But man proposes and God disposes. The meshes of the net, made to hold silversides rather than Cains, broke, and everyone fell flat.
6. And the siesta that day was very incomplete, because the blow left Cain's legs-and his backside-numb.”
EL PENECA, no. 174, March 18, 1912.
Walter Barbier was among the most beloved artists. Week after week he made adults and children laugh. Yet behind his graphic humor lay a personal history marked by suffering. In issue no. 273, dated February 9, 1914, contributor Aida Moreno, writing under the pseudonym “Adami,” dedicated these lines to the artist, revealing a more intimate side and offering a moving portrait that contrasted sharply with the joy Barbier brought to his panels:
“WALTER BARBIER
‘Laughter is a mask that conceals pain.’
For a long time I had admired and loved the creator of the amusing characters of ‘El Peneca.’ But I was mistaken. I believed that just as he made others laugh, he himself laughed too; but can one laugh while carrying the weight of misfortune? Walter Barbier could answer that.
I know little of his life: I know that he is a great artist with a gifted soul, for he understood that the public in general would care little about his sadness, which he might have portrayed faithfully, and so he devoted himself to caricature, delighting adults and children alike.
Few can have borne physical and moral suffering with his calmness; yet he knew how to struggle, and his will triumphed. Petty ideas have found no room beneath his broad, thoughtful brow, and for that reason Walter Barbier lives for the happiness and good of his Homeland.
Nature, ungenerous to him, deprived him of the delights of childhood and perhaps also of the dreams of youth-the latter more terrible still, because the heart understands more clearly and feels more deeply the need for affection. My soul has understood Walter Barbier's, and he may be certain that he has found a kindred soul who admires him from afar and rejoices in his triumphs. And you who laugh as you read of the misadventures of the Levacorta family, love Barbier dearly, for he needs the affection of his fellow human beings. I introduce him to you only very briefly; but know, and never forget, that his life has been very sad...”
ADAMI.
EL PENECA, no. 273, February 9, 1914.
In January 1918, Walter Barbier published a letter in the Santiago newspaper La Opinión claiming exclusive authorship of the series “Los Levacorta.” The publisher's response, led by Emilio Vaisse, was categorical: the intellectual property in the series belonged to the company. According to the official position, Barbier had created the comics during his employment relationship and under an editorial contract, which made the characters institutional property. In the interpretation prevailing at the time, the fact that the strip had been published by Zig-Zag barred any claim by the artist.
Barbier was seeking what today we would call recognition of authors' rights, in a context dominated by verbal or informal agreements. While the publisher regarded “The Levacorta Family” as a replaceable product within its commercial machinery, Barbier saw it as a personal and non-transferable creation. Zig-Zag backed its editor's position, consolidating the company's control over material published in the weekly. The dispute foreshadowed tensions between artistic creation and industrial logic.
“CHATS
The Levacorta Family
This is a family predestined for every sort of adventure.
The adventures it has already experienced in the pages of the magazine are apparently not enough.
Not content with its latest mishap-the dreadful kidnapping it is currently suffering at the hands of bandits in Cerrillos de Teno-the family now seeks journalistic adventures in Santiago. It is a truly strange hunger for publicity in people who have appeared for so many months in print and in pictures of several colors...
But one must take people as they are. Here is one example of their peculiarities: the Levacortas are not satisfied with having been born in the house of ‘El Peneca.’ Mr. Walter Barbier now wishes to be their author and, therefore, their owner.
In Santiago's ‘La Opinión’ (January 12, 1918), that distinguished artist writes a letter to the Editor of ‘El Peneca’ making this claim.
To all the reasons advanced by Mr. Barbier we reply:
1. The idea for the Levacorta series is the property of the Editor of ‘El Peneca.’
2. And not only does the fundamental idea belong to the aforementioned Editor, but the development of that idea belongs to him as well.
Mr. Barbier has forgotten that for each issue of ‘El Peneca,’ the Editor of that magazine sent him a handwritten sketch or detailed outline, whose development or realization in the form of drawings was entrusted to Mr. Barbier.
This fact is publicly known at ‘Zig-Zag.’
It is strange, therefore, that Mr. Barbier should have published a letter like the one referred to above...
I have not the slightest objection to acknowledging that Mr. Barbier, through his drawings, contributed to the success of the Levacortas; but I cannot in any way accept his attempt to claim ownership of the Levacorta series as its author.
All series of any length published in ‘El Peneca’ (such as Los Levacorta, Ñor Carmelo in Europe, Cain II Piña, Mr. Savage's Electric School, etc., etc.) were conceived by me.
This, I repeat, is a matter of public knowledge.
Moreover, the original drawings published in ‘El Peneca’ by Mr. Barbier under the title Pranks (which consisted of series of individual pages) are the only works in whose production I did not participate.
It was those I meant in a letter quoted by Mr. Barbier, in which I told him that ‘his replacement would know how to respect the drawings and series conceived by him...’
Those Pranks have been, are, and will continue to be respected...”
EMILIO VAISSE.
(Omer Emeth).
Editor of El Peneca.
EL PENECA, no. 480, January 28, 1918.
Although his claim did not succeed, it established a significant precedent regarding authorship in Chilean comics. Barbier lost the legal dispute. The publisher thereby reaffirmed its serial-production model, in which creators were regarded as replaceable and comics as mere cogs in an expanding industry. In issue no. 447, dated January 7, 1918, the artist “Leonard” took over the series. Yet in the midst of the controversy, issue no. 484 of February 25, 1918 published “Los Levacorta (see appendix),” interrupting the usual series. The image portrayed politicians of the period, perhaps with the intention of arbitrating-or at least making visible-the debate over authors' rights. Rather than taking an explicit position, the comic seemed to function as visual commentary on power relations within the country. At the bottom of the page it announced that “Los Levacorta” would return in one week, but that return never came.
Earlier, “Leonard” had chosen to create the illustrated story “Chaplin in Chile,” published on April 30, 1917 (issue no. 441). The character's farewell came in issue no. 460, dated September 17, 1917, where he appeared dancing the Chilean cueca in homage to “Chaplin.” Finally, issue no. 470 of November 18, 1917 marked the definitive end of the series. By then, however, only the title retained the name “Chaplin in Chile,” since the content had lost all connection to the famous international character.
Between 1908 and 1921, El Peneca became a genuine laboratory for comics and illustrated stories. It adopted stylistic devices from Europe and the United States, ranging from silent panels to frameless pages, but gave them a character of its own, marked by absurd humor, implicit moral lessons and the tenderness of characters such as “Maestro Chambeco.”
This early experimentation demonstrated an understanding of comics as an autonomous language long before the medium was broadly recognized as such. The weekly combined foreign influence with local creation through the work of artists such as Emilio Álvarez, Raúl Figueroa, Walter Barbier and many others, who forged a recognizable style close to its young audience.
The pedagogical function reached its fullest expression in “Maestro Chambeco,” a clown who taught the alphabet through acrobatics and whose fictional death triggered a moving collective response among child readers-clear evidence of the emotional bond the publication had managed to build with its audience.
Yet this creative flowering was not free of tension. Anonymity and precarious professional recognition ran throughout the period. One emblematic case was the dispute between Walter Barbier and editor Emilio Vaisse over ownership of “Los Levacorta,” which established a significant precedent regarding authorship in Chilean comics and exposed the unfair conditions under which its pioneers worked.
Taken as a whole, El Peneca's comics and illustrated-story section constituted a first-rate narrative and visual laboratory. This panorama helps us better understand some of the origins of comics and illustrated stories in Chile, their coexistence with other literary forms, and the emergence of the first popular icons, thereby laying the foundations for a national comics tradition.
Children's literature has its roots in oral traditions and in the earliest pedagogical experiments of figures such as Comenius, whose Orbis Sensualium Pictus (1658) established a fundamental precedent. It was during the Enlightenment in the eighteenth century, however, that popular narratives began to be recorded in writing, consolidating a genre that, by the early twentieth century, would find in El Peneca an exceptional vehicle for adaptation and for the creation of a literature native to Chile.
Driven by a deep commitment to Chilean childhood, Blanchard-Chessi and Emilio Vaisse turned the magazine into an important exercise in creative exchange. Their method was to translate and circulate European stories, narratives and myths, while also publishing Chilean folktales, moral fables and local legends. The repertoire ranged from contemporary stories to adaptations of universal classics and great adventure tales, without neglecting pedagogical essays written in a conversational tone. El Peneca thus blended the cultural identity of the West with the storytelling traditions of Chilean peasants, offering readers a universe of recurring themes: overcoming trials, exercising caution in the face of danger, respecting social norms, choosing humility over arrogance, and seeing effort or goodness rewarded. Alongside these values, its pages were also inhabited by palaces, wonders and a magic that came to the aid of protagonists in moments of greatest danger.
In its first issue, El Peneca published the story “The Fisherman and the Spirit,” in which a fisherman freed a genie from a bottle. The spirit rewarded him by taking him to an enchanted lake, where a princess under a spell was forced to whip her husband. The king killed the sorcerer, broke the curse, and love triumphed.
It was a classic fairy tale: magic, princesses, kings and a happy ending:
“IN those days there lived on the shores of a lake a poor fisherman and his family. As usual, one day he went out in his boat to cast his nets, anxious to make a good catch, for poverty and hunger scourged his home. But fortune was against him, and when, after a long wait, he pulled in his nets, his only prize was a miserable sealed metal bottle. Driven by curiosity, he opened it, and at once thick
black columns of smoke began escaping from the neck. As they spread, their upper part took the shape of a horrible face with a thick, disheveled beard, and in its center
were two eyes that seemed to shoot flames with their gaze.
The spirit spoke: Oh, happiest of mortals, he said, you have done me a great service by freeing me from the narrow prison into which an evil fairy had shut me; I shall reward you for your deed. And gathering the humble fisherman into the mass of smoke, he carried him like a cloud through the air to the shore of an enchanted lake. There the spirit left him and disappeared. At the sight of so many fish, the fisherman felt intense delight. How much bread he could give his poor little children with the proceeds of what he was about to catch!
He was still speaking when he heard the footsteps of the princess-nurse, who came, as she did every day, to carry out her sad duty of whipping her husband. Deeply moved, the king hid behind some curtains and then slipped secretly toward the adjoining room, to the place where the sorcerer lay. Once there, he suddenly drew his sword, sprang upon the defenseless old man, and cut off his head.
Then something very strange happened. Voices and joyful murmurs were heard everywhere; palaces and beautiful houses rose from the countryside, and countless inhabitants crossed the streets happily, embracing one another warmly. The enchantment had ended.
The prince and princess, filled with joy and gratitude, arranged great festivities in honor of their savior and afterward accompanied him back to his kingdoms, where they met the fisherman through whose actions they had returned to real life, and showered him with great rewards.
EL PENECA, no. 1, November 23, 1908.
On December 21, 1908 (issue no. 5), the story “How Maruf the Shoemaker Became King” appeared. The shoemaker was rewarded for his innocent soul. Fortune had a surprise in store when he entered a room and found fairies, who placed a ring on his finger so that he might make a wish. The king granted it and gave him his daughter in marriage, and Maruf asked: “I want to be king so that I may give charity to all my people.” His wish was fulfilled.
“Little Almond” was the first serialized story in the “Feuilleton” section. Its publication began with the first issue (November 23, 1908), continued in issue no. 2, and concluded on January 11, 1909 (issue no. 8). This fairy tale, based on the Hans Christian Andersen story first written in 1835, was adapted for the weekly. It told of a tiny girl who, after surviving many dangers, found her place in the world. Its ending offered a lesson in belonging and transformation.
The serialized story “Hansel and Gretel” ran between January 18 (issue no. 9) and February 7, 1909 (issue no. 12). Reproduced in the “Feuilleton,” it was based on the Brothers Grimm collection of 1812. The lost children in the forest, the house of nougat and sugar, the evil witch: it was a dark tale, but also a lesson in cleverness and survival.
Alberto Mauret Caamaño's “The Story of a Bad King and a Lively Flea,” with illustrations by Emilio Álvarez, was a serialized poem that began on February 22 and concluded in issue no. 18 of March 22, 1909. The flea bit the king without respite until his subjects rebelled. It was political satire disguised as a children's story, and it ended with a moral:
“A LOVELY TALE IN VERSE
We recommend to our readers the delightful Story of a Bad King and a Lively Flea, which we begin publishing in this issue. It is a charming tale in verse by the distinguished poet Don Alberto Mauret Caamaño, skillfully illustrated by the young artist Don Emilio Alvarez.”
EL PENECA, no. 14, February 22, 1909.
“What do you want of me, flea,
that you torment me so?
-That you resign this instant,
and go far away from here.
The people suffer darkest sorrows,
amid hunger and terror;
and today, thanks to my courage,
the people break their chains.
The king accepts his fate;
and followed by his dog,
down the harsh road of death
and exile he goes.
At last the monarch's cruel misdeeds
were forgotten;
and throughout the land
all the people lived happily.
Children who listen with delight
to the story of the tyrant king,
learn from your earliest years
to practice justice.
So that later, when with courage
you enter the world to struggle,
because you know how to show respect,
you too will be respected.”
MAURET
EL PENECA, no. 18, March 22, 1909.
“Khan Kilin-Kon-Kun” (issue no. 19, March 29, 1909) was a story with a moral. A king demanded that his son marry a woman capable of embroidering the imperial coat of arms on the point of a needle. A young woman rejected the task with irony. The story questioned the absurd demands of power. One young woman in the kingdom refused the challenge in an ironic letter:
“...who is capable of embroidering the imperial arms on the point of one of those ivory needles His Majesty uses to scratch his ears when they itch.”
“Sir: what Your Majesty asks in exchange for your son's hand is impossible. Your Majesty may keep your Crown Prince and lay in a stock of ivory for the hundred thousand backsides that will adorn the day of the competition; but surely among them will not be that of your subject,-Light of the Forest.”
EL PENECA, no. 19, March 29, 1909.
“Solomon's Treasure” (issue no. 125, April 10, 1911) carried readers to the East. Two friends found a mysterious map and traveled to Jerusalem. The treasure was guarded by the legendary King Solomon. On their return, they received diamond nuggets. It was a story of adventure and reward.
“The Adventures of Baron Münchhausen,” written by Rudolf Erich Raspe and published in 1785, appeared in issues 270 and 271 (January 19 and 26, 1914) under the credit “Copied by El Tatarita,” almost certainly the pseudonym of the translator and adapter. In the first installment, “The Baron's First Journey,” his early passion for travel was described as having been inspired by his father's stories. This nobleman wandered the world, exaggerated his exploits and invented incredible encounters. The result was humor, fantasy and a critique of vanity.
The Arabic tale “The Fingers of the Hand,” published on January 15, 1912 (issue no. 165) and adapted by Luis Larraín of Valparaíso, reflected on social order and justice. Larraín told of a political conflict between a rebellious poet and the caliph, with social structure symbolized through the anatomy of the hand: the thumb meant work and thus the people; the index finger represented art, intelligence and ingenuity; the ring finger symbolized strength; the little finger personified woman and grace. The sovereign was the heart, which governed the whole and directed the hand's movements. If one of the five disappeared, harmony ended. Confronted with the people's demand, the caliph surrendered power to the poet; once in possession of it, the poet proved incapable of exercising sovereignty. The caliph recovered his authority and proclaimed:
“I forgive the poet his audacity and give his sister all the riches awarded in the poem. Inequality exists in Nature. But be at peace: equality comes at the hour of death.
Amer left to posterity a name that brought distinction to Islam in the East.
His finger, enclosed in a little pouch of green velvet embroidered with gold, is still preserved in the great mosque of Baghdad, and his poem ‘Khamsa’ (The Five) is the wisest and most complete treatise on philosophy ever written in the Arabic language.”
Luis Larraín, Valparaíso
EL PENECA, no. 165, January 15, 1912.
“The Virgin of the Ruins” (issue no. 249, August 23, 1913), by Fernán Caballero, told the story of a shepherdess who ascended to heaven. The Virgin carried her away. It was a tale of faith and redemption:
When they approached the hut they saw a great brightness and imagined that it was on fire, so they quickened their pace; but when they entered, they saw no fire, only some young men whose white tunics shone so brightly that they caused the light. Beside the little shepherdess was a very beautiful Lady, resting the girl's head upon her breast, and as they approached they saw the shepherdess smile, sigh and die. Then the Lady signaled to the handsome young men, who came forward and took the little shepherdess in their arms; even in death she still wore her smile. They carried her up to heaven, for those young men were angels and the Lady was the Virgin of the Ruins, who then returned to her niche to win more souls for heaven.”
Fernán Caballero.
EL PENECA, no. 249, August 23, 1913.
“The Fierce Hunter” (issue no. 201, September 23, 1912), an Alsatian legend, dealt with lack of faith. A baron and his daughter scorned Christian traditions. Both died during a hunt. The baron passed into memory as “the fierce hunter.” It was a warning against arrogance.
“The Treasure of the Alhambra” (issue no. 223, February 24, 1913) was an Arabic tale about charity and cleverness. A Spaniard helped a dying Moor, who revealed the location of a treasure. The mayor tried to steal it, but the Moor's ingenuity enabled the Spaniard to recover his share. The story vindicated generosity and intelligence.
On February 20, 1911, issue no. 118 of the magazine published the fable “The Donkey and the Dog,” with text by L. Ehrer and illustrations by “Moustache.” A dog taught a donkey a lesson about selfishness, emphasizing mutual aid as a law of nature and using lichens as an example, where algae and fungi support one another. The selfish donkey ended up devoured by a wolf, while the starving dog had pleaded in vain for his help. The author's name appeared as L. Ehrer, though it may have been E. Lehrer-perhaps a printing error:
“Helping one another is a law of nature...
Our most recent scientific reading taught us this through the example of the lichen-that ‘plant society’ called a Lichen, made up of an alga and a fungus that help each other live, feeding and protecting one another.
What a beautiful example Nature gives us at every turn!...
Yet we often see men, and even children, refuse to learn and put into practice so splendid a lesson.
La Fontaine, disguising men as animals, tells us that however absolute the law of mutual aid may be,
‘Yet one day the donkey refused to obey it...’
What shall we say? Masters, donkeys, dogs and wolves all exist among men... and ‘donkey-men’-or, if you prefer, dear reader, ‘man-donkeys’-selfish pleasure-seekers without compassion, sooner or later have had, or will have, to reckon with Mr. Wolf.”
In issue no. 141, dated July 31, 1911, a story appeared that captivated young readers. It was titled “The Poet's Roses,” and its pages recounted a scene both delicate and revealing. The writer was none other than Hafez of Shiraz (c. 1315-1390), the celebrated Persian poet whose full name was Khwaja Shams al-Din Muhammad Hafez-e Shirazi. In the city of Shiraz, known in Persia as the “city of roses,” the poet one day noticed a young woman secretly cutting roses from his garden.
But rather than stop her, Hafez grew curious and decided to follow her silently. As he walked behind her, verses began to flow through his mind. They were not words of reproach but of wisdom: “Leave the rose upon the rosebush. Once cut, it will die, and you will lose its beauty and its perfume. Leave the rose upon the rosebush.”
The poet compared the young woman to the bee, which draws honey from flowers without ever harming them. He advised her to breathe in the fragrance and admire the beauty, but to respect the life of the rose. And he warned her that if she left it untouched, people would say of her:
‘Can you not enjoy everything exquisite in it without destroying it? Breathe its perfume, admire its beauty, respect it! The bee takes honey from flowers, yet does not harm them at all. Leave the rose upon the rosebush.
‘If you leave it, they will say of you: “Oh, wise one! Oh, merciful spirit!” and if you do not: “Oh, cruel hands! Oh, pitiless heart!” Leave the rose, then, upon the rosebush.’
The girl, however, was not stealing out of malice. She sold the roses to a noblewoman for a high price. With the money she bought cloth and food to take to a poor woman who was dying. When the poet discovered this selfless motive, his heart filled with joy. The story was not about theft, but compassion.
In the same issue, “Omer Emeth” issued a challenge to Chile's young poets. The competition called for rendering the Persian poet's prose translation into Spanish verse. The winner would receive a one-year subscription to “Selecta” or “Familia”; second place would receive a subscription to El Peneca. Both translations would be published together with portraits of their authors.
But there was a problem: letters did not arrive on time. Participants' addresses were not clearly written, and the competition deadline had to be extended. Despite these difficulties, the call was a success.
“A Competition
I recommend to my young and intelligent readers the story entitled ‘The Poet's Roses,’ the jewel of this issue. In it they will find a poem by Hafiz, the celebrated Eastern poet, which, though clothed in humble prose, is a model of refinement, delicacy and beauty.
In drawing your attention to it, dear readers, I am moved by the desire to encourage you to translate it into Spanish verse.
Among you are poets, or aspiring poets. Will none of you dare restore to Hafiz's verses the harmony of which the prose of our translation deprives them?
There you have it, young poets: a lovely theme on which to exercise yourselves and display your skill.
I therefore open a competition for a verse translation of Hafiz's stanzas.
For the best translation ‘El Peneca’ will award a one-year subscription to ‘Selecta’ or
‘Familia.’ To the one judged second, we shall give a one-year subscription to ‘El Peneca.’
Both will be published in this magazine with a portrait of the respective translator.
To work, then, young poets! In wrestling with the Persian bard you will learn to discern the fragrance of true poetry, and inspiration will spring from your souls as roses spring from the rosebush.”
OMER EMETH.
EL PENECA, no. 141, July 31, 1911.
“PRIZE-WINNING COMPOSITIONS
‘LEAVE THE ROSE UPON THE ROSEBUSH’
(First Prize)
‘Do not touch that rose. Look, child,
or it will lose its virgin charm.
Do not steal its beauty and perfume.
Leave, child, the rose upon its bush!
‘Can you not, tell me, without destroying it,
enjoy all that is exquisite within?
Breathe its perfume and admire its beauty,
without causing its charm to fade.
‘The bee, careful among the flowers,
takes the honey back to its hive
and causes them not the slightest harm...
Ah! Leave the rose upon its bush!
‘If you leave it, they will say of you, O merciful one:
“Oh, wise one! Oh, immortal spirit!”
If not: “What a heart! What cruel hands!”
Leave, then, the rose upon its bush!’”
M. TERESA MOGROVEJO.
EL PENECA, no. 145, August 18, 1911.
Beginning in issue no. 141 (July 31, 1911), Hans Christian Andersen's “The Snow Queen” appeared in installments, accompanied by drawings by “Moustache,” and concluded in issue no. 146 on September 4 of that year. Filled with enchantment and wonder, the tale carried a message about friendship and loyalty. Gerda, its brave heroine, set out in search of her beloved friend Kai, who had been abducted by the mysterious “Snow Queen.” During her journey she crossed rivers, forests and unknown worlds, guided and carried by birds and animals toward realms of extreme cold. At last she reached the home of a Finnish woman, who gave her a reindeer and told her where she could find and save Kai. It was a story of friendship, love and perseverance.
The artist Apel·les Mestres wrote a parable, “The Horseshoe,” published on August 21, 1911 (issue no. 144), and accompanied it with a drawing. A man found a horseshoe on the road and nailed it above his door, believing it would protect him from harm. Three disasters followed: first, a wolf killed his sheep; then thieves robbed his house; and finally lightning set his home on fire. Each time, his neighbor mocked his faith in the protective power of “the horseshoe,” but the man insisted that his faith in it had saved the door, while completely ignoring the reality of everything else he had lost.
“Christmas Eve Around the World,” published in issue no. 162 on December 25, 1911, was a text written in Madrid at the end of the nineteenth century by the anonymous “A. de C.” It described Christmas customs in different countries, reflecting the magazine's interest in introducing young readers to universal traditions and encouraging a cosmopolitan outlook from childhood:
“Germany largely keeps the same Christmas customs as England, being a people born from the same origin.
The rest of the Christian world follows, according to the origin of its nations, in the footsteps of Spain, France, England or Italy, but always celebrating this holy night, Christmas Eve: a night of pure joy in the home and sublime solemnity in the church; a night when everything seems to live and feel and rejoice at the memory of an Infant's first cries; when the cheerful noise of tambourines and friction drums drives away every sorrow and care, and awakens, even in the hardest heart, those sacred echoes of childhood that make one raise one's eyes to heaven, searching there for lost innocence and perhaps finding forgiveness and repentance, as one of our finest novelists has so beautifully said.”
A. DE C.
Madrid, December 1897.
Serial Novels.
El Peneca published short novels and serial fiction. “The Five-Peso Coin” (issues 96 to 115, 1910-1911) told the story of a thirteen-year-old boy who worked tirelessly. Finding a five-peso banknote symbolized the arrival of better times. By the age of twenty-eight he was a wealthy industrialist. It was a story of effort and reward:
“His money was thus invested in such a way not only to secure his fortune but to triple it, so he soon married a young and good woman whom he loved, although she possessed nothing.
Having become one of the richest merchants in Paris, Santiago Morlot often thought of his childhood, of the road he had traveled to reach his present position, and above all of the day when he had found the five-peso note.
For this reason, on the fifteenth of every month Santiago never went to bed without first opening his window, whatever the weather, and throwing a five-peso note into the street, praying to God that it would fall into worthy hands and that He would allow it to benefit the person who found it.”
EL PENECA, no. 115, January 30, 1911.
“Little Lord Fauntleroy,” the 1886 work by Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett (1849-1924), appeared in installments from February 6 (issue no. 116) through March 13, 1911 (issue no. 121). Set in a contemporary world, the story addressed values such as sincerity and the goodness of a child heir who had been rejected by his aristocratic grandfather. Their reunion idealized childhood goodness as a transformative force capable of overcoming social differences.
Stories such as “The Island of Toys,” “The Apple Blossom,” and “Always Do Good” functioned as moral machines. The good were rewarded; the wicked punished. Transgressors faced exemplary punishment, as in “The Devil's Three Hairs.” The usurping regent was condemned for resisting divine design. It was a lesson in humility and acceptance of destiny:
“The young man reached the royal palace and gave the King the Devil's three hairs. The King was satisfied to see the four donkeys laden with money and said to him:
-Live with your wife. But, my son, tell me: where did you get so much money?
-I gathered it on the opposite bank of a river I crossed.
Could I collect as much? the King asked.
-And much more, replied the young man. The greedy monarch set off, and when he reached the river he signaled to the ferryman to take him across. The ferryman let him aboard, and the moment they reached the other bank, he put the oar in the King's hand and jumped ashore. As punishment for his wickedness, the King was left to serve as ferryman, and he must surely still be doing so today.”
EL PENECA, no. 128, May 1, 1911.
Ramón Arminio Laval Alvial (1862-1929) was a storyteller and collector of Chilean oral tradition. He worked for more than three decades at the National Library, where he rose to the position of deputy director and served twice, in 1909 and 1921, as acting director. He was also a founding member of the Chilean Folklore Society in 1909. Laval became a central figure in collecting the country's rural and urban narratives and a pioneer in the study and research of Chilean folklore. His work gathered legends, myths and stories handed down from generation to generation, preserving the cultural identity and popular language of the early twentieth century.
“The Three Pieces of Advice” (August 30, 1915, issue no. 354), collected from oral tradition by Ramón A. Laval and illustrated by Walter Barbier, told of a poor unemployed man who decided to leave home in search of work to support his family. Juan sold the furniture for one thousand pesos, kept three hundred for his journey, and left seven hundred with his wife Rosa and their son. Along the road he met an old man who sold advice. Juan bought three pieces with the little money he carried. Bringing his lips close to Juan's ear, the old man murmured: “These are the three pieces of advice that will make you happy if you follow them: Do not abandon the old for the young; do not ask about what does not concern you; and do not let yourself be carried away by the first piece of news.”
“The Tree of the Three Golden Apples” (October 4 and 11, 1915, issues 359 and 360) described a kingdom whose fate depended on a magical tree. A wealthy monarch had three sons, and they lived in a palace where there grew an apple tree with a silver trunk and bronze leaves. Each year it bore three golden apples. For three years in a row a mysterious thief stole them. Despite an armed guard, the sentries fell into an irresistible sleep before midnight, allowing the theft and threatening the kingdom's fortunes.
This narrative was an example of syncretism in certain Chilean storytelling traditions. On the one hand, it resembled traditional European tales, especially fairy and wonder stories, in its heroic structure, its magical elements-such as the tree made of precious metals and the golden apples-and its motif of repeated theft under an enchanted sleep. On the other hand, it incorporated descriptions of customs deeply rooted in Chile: the ritual of drinking mate, comparisons of wickedness to “bile,” the use of herbs such as lemon verbena and orange peel in the infusion, and the familiar form of address for a female neighbor or “comadre.”
The following passage from “The Tree of the Three Golden Apples” perfectly illustrated this fusion:
“The Tree of the Three Golden Apples
(Collected from oral tradition by Ramón A. Laval)
He traveled for several more days, following roads and crossing forests without meeting anyone, until at last he reached a hut beside a stream. Sitting at the door was a pleasant-looking little old woman, calmly drinking mate that she prepared for herself. The prince greeted her courteously and asked whether she could tell him where he might find the eagle with golden feathers and the princess it held captive. The old woman replied that she could certainly give him some information of interest, but that it would be better for him to get down from his horse, have a little mate and rest. The prince agreed to the old woman's wishes. She prepared him a good mate with lemon-verbena leaves and orange peel, then led him to a room with an excellent bed, which the prince-who had not rested in a bed since leaving the palace-found softer and more comfortable than the one in his own chambers.”
EL PENECA, no. 360, October 11, 1915.
Illustration by Walter Barbier for the story “The Tree of the Three Golden Apples.”
In the section “Chilean Folk Tales,” Laval's version of “The Malverde Bird,” related by Raimundo Vera, age 46, of Santiago, appeared from issue no. 192 (July 22, 1912) through issue no. 196 (August 12, 1912). Although the story followed the structure of European wonder tales, its setting was Chilean, and its connection with local oral tradition revealed the syncretism of national folklore. A king was blind and sent his sons one by one to find a feather from the “Malverde bird.” The first and second became trapped along the road by love and never returned. Only the third, aided by a “little Black magician,” succeeded in bringing the “Malverde bird” to the palace; his brothers then set a trap for him. The king recovered his sight and discovered that his two older sons had stolen the bird from their younger brother in order to gain prestige and honors.
On June 10, 1912 (issue no. 186), a costumbrista story described rural life in Casablanca, a farming town near the port city of Valparaíso. Pedro was a six-year-old boy raised by a peasant woman, Juana María, while his parents worked on the Panama Canal. After years away, the parents returned to Chile to collect Pedro. What mattered here was the narration of emotions and situations common in many people's lives. The same issue included the short story “Fatal and Fortunate,” while the Northern Chilean legend “The Marvel of Chile,” written by E. Blanco and illustrated by Walter Barbier, appeared in issues 345 and 346, June 28 and July 5, 1915.
Benjamín Oviedo coordinated texts and adaptations and frequently rewrote the material. He produced versions such as “The Mole King” and “The Magic Bottles,” published in issue no. 314 (November 23, 1914). In “Tom Gin's Nose,” published on December 2, 1918 (issue no. 524), “Magister” told the story of Tom, a Parisian aristocrat and alcoholic. Hoping to free him from his vice, someone promised to arrange his marriage to a cousin. When she arrived in Paris, she found him completely drunk and fled in horror. In the end, he overcame his addiction, married, and gave up alcohol forever-a story with a miraculous ending.
Oviedo adapted “The Enchanted Oven,” “The Decoration,” “The Mystery of Pavia,” “The Two Brothers,” “The Fairies' Grotto,” and “The Princess and the Shepherd.” He coordinated the work of young translators and writers, among them “Clary” (a pseudonym), José Pino, Marta Castro Simms, “Tatarita,” and many others.
“The Cunning Wolf” was published as a serialized story in issues 378 and 379, dated February 14 and 21, 1916, with illustrations by Walter Barbier. The princess remained imprisoned for years in a cave where she never saw daylight. Although the furniture and table were enchanted and food appeared every day, her captivity was perpetual and dark. Her mother, the queen of Portugal, aided by the fairy queen disguised as a little old woman, set out to rescue her. Finally, after seven years, they succeeded. While the mother and fairy acted with secrecy and patience, “the cunning wolf” was locked inside his own cave, where he starved to death.
“From Bad to Worse,” published in issue no. 628 (November 29, 1920), featured Don Timoteo, a man who, after working all his life, retired and refused to leave the house, insisting that he was perfectly well even as he began to lose the use of his limbs. His elderly wife, worried, called the doctor, but Timoteo ignored her advice. A visiting friend, seeing how weak he was, persuaded him to consult a witch. She told him that for three weeks he must search the forest for certain mushrooms. Restored to health by his daily walks in the woods, Don Timoteo discovered that the witch was actually the doctor's wife. The revelation turned the whole episode into a lesson against stubbornness-the lesson that had saved him.
Between 1908 and 1921, El Peneca developed a coherent and ambitious editorial project in children's literature. Far from limiting itself to translating or reproducing foreign stories, the magazine built a carefully selected pedagogical program that combined tradition with modernity and universal culture with local roots. It circulated fairy tales, fables, legends and serialized novels from world literature, but its most distinctive contribution was the incorporation of Chilean oral tradition and national folklore. The systematic collaboration of Ramón A. Laval, a pioneer in Chilean folklore studies, allowed young readers to encounter stories such as “The Tree of the Three Golden Apples,” “The Malverde Bird,” and “The Cunning Wolf,” in which the structure of the European wonder tale blended with scenes, customs and popular Chilean speech: mate flavored with lemon verbena, comparisons with “bile,” the figure of the comadre, the peasants of Casablanca, and anonymous workers on the Panama Canal.
The section also showed a capacity for formal and interactive experimentation. It encouraged active participation through poetic-translation competitions, such as the one inspired by Hafiz's roses, as well as literary contests and reader contributions.
Pedagogically, El Peneca's children's literature operated as a subtly and consistently effective moral machine. The rewarding of the good, exemplary punishment of the arrogant, selfish or wicked, the celebration of mutual aid-as in the fable of the donkey and the dog, inspired by lichens-and the condemnation of greed, as in “Solomon's Treasure” or “The Fingers of the Hand,” shaped a narrative universe in which ethics was not an appendix but the very axis of each story. Almost without realizing it, children learned that generosity, perseverance and humility brought rewards, while arrogance and selfishness led inevitably to ruin.
Finally, it should be emphasized that this literary production would not have been possible without the work of a stable team of writers, adapters, translators and coordinators, many of them anonymous or writing under pseudonyms. The group was led first by Enrique Blanchard-Chessi and later by Emilio Vaisse (“Omer Emeth”), with key figures such as Benjamín Oviedo, Luis Larraín, Alberto Mauret Caamaño, José María Salaverría and many others.
Zig-Zag already had a successor prepared: a young, cultivated, well-traveled, feminist and decidedly modern woman. The most brilliant period in the weekly's history was about to begin.
She worked with a multidisciplinary team of Chilean professionals, artists and intellectuals. This group was responsible for content creation, translations, scripts, illustrations and photography. Particularly notable was the participation of Blanca Santa Cruz Ossa, Elvira's sister, who worked with the publishing house on various occasions.
Elvira Santa Cruz Ossa adopted the pseudonym “Roxane.” The name referred to the beautiful heroine beloved by Cyrano in Edmond Rostand's French heroic drama Cyrano de Bergerac (1897). Elvira herself explained the origin of her literary name on October 3, 1921 (issue no. 672), revealing something intimate about her personality:
“My Pseudonym
My initiation into literature was delightful. With the tip of my pencil between my lips, I spent hours inventing the most outlandish episodes, the most fantastic adventures: ‘What if I described it as a shipwreck in which, having nothing to eat, we lulled our hunger with suicidal reading?’ Then it occurred to me to transform the wooden flooring of the bathing huts into an Indian canoe and the coast of La Serena into a savage country. I lost two entire days in such musings until, finally, on the third and last day, I do not know what benevolent muse inspired me with the idea of narrating events just as they had happened and my impressions with the same naturalness with which I had felt them. And that is what I did.
Of that first literary article of mine, I remember only the final sentence, which, no doubt embracing my joy in being alive and the grandeur of the earth, sky and sea, made me conclude in a burst of enthusiasm by exclaiming: ‘How good God is!...’
When I went to place a pseudonym at the foot of my composition, my pen did not hesitate for an instant, and with energy wrote beneath that vigorous final sentence the name ‘Roxane,’ which two decades of my life have made so familiar. Edmond Rostand was then my greatest literary enthusiasm, and at home we were constantly reciting scenes from Cyrano de Bergerac... My pen merely followed my thought in an unconscious, unreflective act: the poet's verses had impressed my spirit so deeply that the name of his heroine had become, almost unconsciously, identified with my own being.”
Barely a week later, on February 7, 1921, with issue no. 638, “Roxane” officially took over as the third editor of El Peneca. Her relationship with the publication predated the appointment, since she had already contributed as a writer to the “Chats” section from an unspecified date. With an audacious personality and a strong intellectual background, she brought a renewed style fully attuned to the social and political changes then taking place in Chile.
Elvira Santa Cruz Ossa was born in Valparaíso on March 21, 1886, into a wealthy family. She attended the Catholic Sacred Hearts convent school and later studied sociology in France, specializing in women's work and child protection. During her travels through France and the United States, she became aware that another world existed beyond the conventions of Chile's upper class. She witnessed the long American tradition of the struggle for women's suffrage (Congress approved women's suffrage in 1920, while Chilean women would not obtain it until 1949). In 1916 she published her first novel, “Flor Silvestre,” in the United States and won first prize in literature at the University of California.
In 1918 she joined the editorial staffs of El Mercurio, La Nación and the magazine Zig-Zag, where she remained for nearly four decades. Around the same time she became a member of the Club de Señoras, founded in 1916, and participated in conferences on the right of women to vote. She died on November 7, 1960. Her epitaph reads: “The marvelous journey has ended. Reduce me to earth so that I may return to the light.”
We shall now examine the most important aspects of her life, work and legacy, including the exclusive testimony of two close collaborators.
On October 14, 1923, El Mercurio published a speech by Elvira Santa Cruz titled “The Activities of Chilean Women in the Past, Present and Future,” delivered at the Women's Conference of the 12th. There she summarized her work. In this essay she mapped out three periods. In the past, she recovered women's quiet heroism: beside military leaders, during epidemics and floods, and in the War of the Pacific. In the present, “Roxane” described a feminist awakening influenced by developments abroad. Chilean women were already earning university degrees, yet they struck two walls: social prejudice against working women, and civil legislation that treated a married woman as a minor, without rights over her own property. Even so, activity flourished in schools, trade unions, the fight against tuberculosis, child protection and the arts. Looking to the future, she did not demand aggressive power but clean politics: public health, protection of the weak, and the eradication of vice. Economic emancipation was the key. Her ultimate goal was a fraternal union among women throughout the world, because she firmly believed that when women reigned, wars would cease:
“The Activities of Chilean Women in the Past, Present and Future”
“The Women's Conference of the 12th”
“Institutions similar to those already established are frequently founded when, with a little tolerance on one side and a little selflessness and disinterest on the other, they could be united, since the same ideal inspires them. In the United States there are national social-welfare associations in which the underprivileged child finds protection step by step: received at birth, aided through the first years of infancy, taken by the hand to school, and later trained and guided through early youth.
The current President of the Republic, Don Arturo Alessandri, has during the three years of his administration repeatedly sent messages to the Chambers asking that the humiliating civil status of Chilean women be changed; yet these reforms, repeatedly requested by our chief executive, have still not been achieved.
Meanwhile, as I said at the outset, it is our legislators who are backward-looking and attached to tradition-or perhaps simply indolent and unwilling to concern themselves with these demands. One would think that parliamentarians do not understand the injustice they commit by keeping Chilean women in this state of subjection: strong and courageous women, intelligent and good, women who struggle and exhaust themselves fighting social ills, reducing infant mortality, teaching those who do not know...
How is it that, without economic independence, subject to the whim of a man or husband who may take even her wages and earnings from her, the Chilean woman has nevertheless managed to place herself on an equal footing with men in every sphere of social activity?”
Elvira Santa Cruz Ossa (Roxane)
El Mercurio, October 14, 1923.
In 1917 she joined the School Welfare Board, an institution that provided breakfasts and lunches to poor children. There she created a center for collecting children's clothing for distribution throughout Chile.
The “Presidente Alessandri” School Colony was an initiative that combined “Roxane's” efforts with the support of President Arturo Alessandri Palma. The project began in 1927 when the School Welfare Board established the first Vacation School Colony. In 1935, thanks to the support of her friend President Alessandri, the institution was able to construct its own building in Reñaca. Celia Pérez Ureta described it this way in a text published on October 20, 1945, in issue no. 1923:
“SCHOOL COLONIES OF CHILE.
Dreaming of the sea...
Beneath the loving and benevolent shelter of that palace raised ten years ago by the love of the great visionary, our former president Don Arturo Alessandri, and by Roxane's incomparable perseverance, our frail schoolchildren come to take refuge like a flock of timid doves.”
EL PENECA, no. 1923, October 20, 1945.
In 1947 this initiative was summarized with deep compassion by a contributor writing under the pseudonym “Caracol”:
NATIONAL COLLECTION FOR THE SCHOOL COLONIES
PAGES WRITTEN BY A SNAIL
“It may seem strange that I, a snail, should be a writer. But wisdom can exist even in the smallest and humblest creatures.
I write in the sand with ink exuded by my own body-a silver ink which, if it were to be stored, ought not to be kept in an ordinary inkwell, but in a star.
...I live in Montemar and generally cling like a limpet to a great rock. At other times I roll down to the sand, and on occasion I sail as well.
I met a group of children who belonged to a School Colony. They arrived frightened. Many had never seen the sea. Several young women watched over them like a brood of chicks. I do not know what broods of chicks are like, but I do know that the phrase gives a very exact idea of a restless group that must be protected with tenderness. That was how it was in that colony.
From my rock I watched those children. I always observe human beings, and I admit that they are intelligent, daring and brave. The types I know best are sailors and fishermen. I know that man is considered king of creation. But, I wondered as I examined those children, can these weak, pale and frightened little creatures ever become kings? A wave breaking against a rock filled them with terror. The burning sunlight forced them to seek refuge in the shade and painfully close their eyes...
...At first it is always like this-I heard one of the caregivers say.-They arrive exhausted by the poverty of their homes. They have no energy to sing or play. They have suffered hunger, cold and abandonment. Their parents, even with the greatest sacrifices, cannot provide them with good food. Their homes offer no comfort, no sunlight, no breathable air. Nor is there hygiene. Roxane is right when she says you cannot criticize a poor person for spending money on bread to quiet hunger instead of spending it on soap for washing...
...I have learned that on Tuesday, September 30, the collection for the School Colonies will take place, and I could not resist the desire to write this story so that you, little readers, might learn of the miracle I witnessed and help it continue. I believe you are all generous and will not refuse to cooperate nobly. And speak to your parents as well; they too will wish to show their goodness by contributing to the collection on Tuesday, September 30.”
EL PENECA, no. 2023, September 20, 1947.
Elvira Santa Cruz never stopped supporting these initiatives. In 1948 she appealed to young people from affluent families to contribute to this work of solidarity, seeking funds for sick children and those with few resources:
“COLLECTION FOR THE SCHOOL COLONIES
Roxane appeals to her readers and asks them to be generous. On September 30, when they are asked for help, let them not refuse; more than that, let them give as much as they can for Chile's primary-school pupils.
There are three establishments serving schoolchildren from Santiago: the ‘Presidente Alessandri’ School Colony in Reñaca; the ‘Puga-Concha’ School Colony in Cartagena; and the ‘Roxane’ School Colony. The last of these, located in a mountain region, was inaugurated in 1947 and performs magnificent work for children whose bronchopulmonary conditions prevent them from tolerating the maritime climate.”
EL PENECA, no. 2076, September 25, 1948.
Elvira Santa Cruz wrote the plays “La familia Busquillas” (1918) and “El voto femenino” (1920). These works broke with traditional conventions. “El voto femenino” portrayed women's organized struggle for suffrage, culminating in a political victory. The boldness of its subject brought her severe criticism in social circles. One friend wrote to her:
“La Familia Busquilla
Miss Elvira Santa Cruz
My Most Distinguished Friend,
I congratulate you and I pity you. Because I am your friend, I wish to be your first executioner. You have entered upon a new literary road that will bring you endless bitterness: it is the most winding, the darkest and, at the same time, the most suggestive of all the paths traveled by intellectual inclination. I congratulate you, as do all the others who have been invited to your home to applaud you, but my congratulations are not wholehearted; and since I consider myself your sincere friend, allow me not to drown reality in the frivolous, and sometimes unhealthy, formula of polite but deceitful etiquette...”
On August 5, 1923, she published an article in El Mercurio titled “A Chilean Working Woman,” demanding legal reforms to expand the property rights of married women. She denounced the way the Civil Code of the period allowed husbands arbitrarily to administer their wives' property and wages, particularly harming working-class women. “Roxane” directly challenged privileged women:
“If all of us Chilean ladies were now to come together as well-all of us who have a warm home and an affection that comforts the soul-if, united, we all went to knock at the strong doors of Congress...
...if the articles concerning administration of inherited property or possession of parental authority encounter opposition in reforms to the Civil Code, then at least let those articles be approved that grant women free administration of their wages and earnings.”
El Mercurio, August 5, 1923.
In the section “The Book of Nature,” Elvira Santa Cruz wrote a poetic essay on the meaning of nature as part of the earthly universe. Through the month of April, she described Aprilis, the Roman goddess of flowers, as a figure who brought life and vegetation. She concluded by stressing the importance of physical and intellectual work to human progress:
“THE BOOK OF NATURE
-THE MONTH OF APRIL-
Very different from the terrible god Mars is the goddess who gives her name to the fourth month of the year. Behind the heavy chariot of the warrior god follows a spirit, light and subtle as the breeze, covering the marks of its creaking wheels with flowers. She is APRILIS, meaning ‘the one who opens.’ Although the unit of time does not bear the same relation to the movements of the earth, and therefore to the seasons, in every country, for the Romans APRIL was the month that opened the gates of life to nature, dormant and numbed by winter cold. Of this month they said admiringly ‘Omnia aperit,’ that is, ‘it opens all things,’ for the Roman fields, valleys and forests clothed themselves in green and seemed to awaken from a long sleep of solitude and sadness.
In the southern part of our hemisphere, autumn begins with the month of April, and the earth, tired from producing, gives itself over to its well-earned autumn rest, preparing within itself the sap that will make the fields green again in future spring days. Autumn too has its charms, for nature, having reached the fullness of its splendor, offers us its ripe fruits and seed-bearing flowers.
It is the season of the grape harvest and the grain harvest; the landowner fills his granaries and the tenant farmer dries chuchoca, figs, dried peaches and chili peppers on the roof of his hut. The trees begin to lose their yellow and copper-colored leaves and stand bare like skeletons exposed to the cold storms of winter. All nature seems to rest while man, woman and child, who enjoyed a long respite during the summer days, return to work and study refreshed by those bright days of sunshine and joy.
Let us work, because it is a law of the universe to develop our energies and contribute to the progress of the world, some through the labor of their hands and others through intellectual work.”
ROXANE.
EL PENECA, no. 646, April 4, 1921.
At a time when women of her class were expected to devote themselves to home and charity, “Roxane” built a professional career, fought for labor rights and, through the pages of El Peneca, taught her women readers to believe in themselves. Her editorial vision transformed the publication into a vehicle for change, where optimism, far from simple naïveté, became a pedagogical tool, and solidarity and joy became engines of transformation:
In the 1923 column “Toward Optimism,” she wrote:
“One is happy when one wishes to be, and happiness always comes with knowing how to value one's life, persuaded that nothing is worth as much. Like the joy of the moment, which nothing surpasses in the well-being of the present hours, one adapts oneself to the divine will of eternal things.”
Politically, she showed an affinity with the liberal ideas of Arturo Alessandri Palma, leader of the Liberal Party who governed Chile in two periods (1920-1925 and 1932-1938). Alessandri (1868-1950) came from a distinguished family and stood out for his social commitment. At the age of twenty-four he wrote the innovative thesis “Housing for Workers.”
He was elected senator for Curicó in 1891, where he spoke of the need to democratize Chilean life. On becoming president, he promoted policies with a popular orientation, earning him the nickname “The Lion of Tarapacá” for his connection with the working, mining and laboring masses of northern Chile.
On August 26, 1920, President Juan Luis Sanfuentes enacted the Compulsory Primary Education Law. During Alessandri's administration, which began on December 23, 1920, the policy was extended nationwide and made universal. Recognizing the value of this reform, “Roxane” embraced the cause and declared herself a follower of these ideals:
“When the manager of the Zig-Zag company offered me the editorship of El Peneca in January 1921, my first reaction was to refuse.
‘My spirit is more inclined to found a revolutionary magazine,’ I answered the manager, ‘than a magazine for children.’
The preceding period had been one of ardent struggle for democratic demands. Alessandri had risen to the presidency and all of us supporters were intoxicated with political and social fervor. ‘Think it over!’ our intelligent ‘director’ told me. I thought of the good I might do for children; I thought that they, in turn, would bring cradle-softness into my life; I thought I would make my position as editor a spiritual mission.
Throughout my woman's spirit are the seeds of a mother and a teacher.”
EL PENECA, no. 940, November 22, 1926.
To understand the human and editorial dimensions of Elvira Santa Cruz, nothing can replace the voices of those who worked beside her for decades. In 1988, while examining the archives of the National Library, I had the opportunity to interview two of her closest collaborators: Odilia Navarro, known by the pseudonym “Ketmis,” and Olga Villalón, who had been Roxane's personal secretary from the 1930s until the magazine closed.
Both were elderly women by the time we spoke. They had begun their relationship with El Peneca as young literary contributors, publishing stories and poems. Later they were hired by “Roxane” herself and became key parts of the editorial machinery.
The interview took place in Santiago on some day in 1988. I remember only the month and year. I recorded the conversation on an old cassette recorder. Soon afterward, my house in Macul was burglarized, and the original recorder was stolen.
Before the theft, I faithfully transcribed their words on a typewriter. Those yellowing pages are all that remain of that meeting. I have preserved them in their entirety.
What follows was a direct dialogue between two women who, from behind the scenes at El Peneca, collaborated in the development of the weekly.
“From the time Elvira Santa Cruz took charge of El Peneca, she generally chose women as assistants. Her first secretary was Matilde Rubilar. Later came Silvia Azocar and, finally, I-Olga Villalón-held the position from the 1930s until the magazine ceased to exist. Around that same time Odilia Navarro, ‘Ketmis,’ joined as editorial secretary. We began working there while still young, having previously been literary contributors to the weekly. Odilia was responsible for selecting, translating and adapting foreign literature that arrived for El Peneca from France, England or the United States. My knowledge of those languages was basic; I generally had only a vague understanding of the texts and tried to preserve the content of the story. I-Olga-selected the countless reader contributions and classified the children's literary pieces, as well as other submissions that were appealing. Elvira Santa Cruz decided the general editorial line and worked directly with the magazine's artists and creators.
Elvira Santa Cruz had a dominant personality. She did not accept criticism and closely supervised our work. Only her nephew Mario Silva Ossa was allowed to draw freely.
The editor intervened directly in our way of life; she encouraged us to live autonomously and independently. She was optimistic, and Elvira transmitted independent values to us. She pressured us to rent our own apartments and learn to live alone-something that, at the time, represented a major test of women's liberation.
We worked more than twelve hours a day at the publishing house, coordinating writers, scriptwriters, often official translators, illustrators and readers' letters. We managed to put out more than 240,000 copies every week. That success inspired Elvira Santa Cruz to export El Peneca throughout the Spanish-speaking world.
After the working day we assisted Elvira Santa Cruz in organizing the ‘Summer School Colonies’-the name of President Arturo Alessandri was later added to the Vacation Colonies. They operated for two months, January and February, in Reñaca, Viña del Mar. Schoolchildren from low-income families who stood out for their good grades were invited to spend their holidays there.
Funding for these ‘Summer School Colonies’ came from contributions by various businesspeople and other public figures, as well as from the traditional ‘onces’ organized by Elvira Santa Cruz with her ‘Club de Señoras,’ and from the financial support of her great friend Arturo Alessandri Palma.
By the end of the 1940s, the changes taking place in communications and the massive influx of new foreign comic magazines into the Chilean market were clearly visible. ‘Roxane’ had no interest in changing her editorial line. She wanted her niece to succeed her in the position and began preparing her months in advance, but the initiative failed.
After her retirement in 1951, the magazine gradually disappeared from the market. The owners of Zig-Zag had no interest in reviving El Peneca. Proof of this is that none of my initiatives-I, Odilia Navarro, being one of the last editors-received the necessary support.
On November 7, 1960, Elvira Santa Cruz died of a heart attack. She wanted her philosophy of life to continue inspiring new generations of young Chileans, and she wanted these words carved on her gravestone:
“The marvelous journey has ended. Reduce me to earth so that I may return to the light.”
The exact reasons that precipitated Santa Cruz's resignation or dismissal remain unknown. As can be inferred from the letter she sent to Joaquín Edwards Bello, her departure was surrounded by exceptionally complex circumstances.
No newspaper of the period mentioned the real reasons for her departure. When she left the magazine, Elvira Santa Cruz wrote a brief typed letter to Bello. She revealed that she had gone out “through the back door,” while orders had been given to suppress any mention of the event in Chilean media and she had been denied payment of her employment benefits:
“Mr. Joaquín Edwards Bello
My dear friend:
Since you have always been so kind to me, I want to talk with you about my departure from El Peneca, and I am also sending you my sentimental farewell, My Goodbye to El Peneca. 1920-1951.
I am leaving because at the Zig-Zag company they become irritated when a magazine's circulation falls and begin to make life difficult for its editor. Roxane does not put up with much...
Gustavo Helfmann seems to have thought my decision excellent. He did not even call me as a courtesy and has ordered the magazines to keep my departure quiet, perhaps for fear that El Peneca's readership would decline.
Besides, the amount I earned was not fabulous, as many people believe.
My salary did not reach the minimum living wage: $3,800.
Commissions above 30,000 copies: 3 centavos per copy, and 1 centavo for those sold abroad. Total, more or less $4,800 weekly.
I worked for the Zig-Zag company for thirty-eight consecutive years.
They say I am not entitled to severance because in 1947 they distributed the sum required by Law 8,332.
I give you all these details in case you should wish to comment on my departure-that is, Roxane's retirement.
For me it has truly been a liberation, and I shall be able to give all my time-and my money as well-to the School Colonies, which are the reason for my life, already long, very long...
With the same admiration and affection as always, your friend Roxane
Roxane's handwritten signature.”
That letter, written in the heat of farewell, laid bare the disillusionment of a woman who had helped build Chile's most successful children's weekly. She left the publishing house without recognition, without press coverage and without payment of her employment benefits. The silence of the newspapers under the Edwards family's influence, together with Gustavo Helfmann's silence, operated as a deliberate strategy to erase her legacy.
Elvira Santa Cruz's death on November 7, 1960 coincided with El Peneca's definitive closure on December 25, 1960, symbolically sealing the end of an era.
In issue no. 637 (January 31, 1921), she presented a detailed program of work. She divided the contents into twelve areas, each with a clear purpose:
“CHATS
On February 7, Miss Elvira Santa Cruz Ossa, known in the literary world by the pseudonym Roxane, will take charge of this magazine.
Her program of work is as follows:
‘So that readers of EL PENECA may form a general idea of the new direction we shall give this magazine, I shall divide the principal subjects into sections and summarize each one:
1st Section-Children's Life-Social, school and humorous news. To maintain interest in this section, we shall accept correspondence, information and photographs.
2nd Section-Famous Men and Women-Short biographies of notable figures from history, of the world's scholars, musicians, artists, discoverers and inventors. Glorious anniversaries of the homeland will be included in this section on their commemorative dates.
3rd Section-Stories, Tales and Legends-Fantastic stories, Chilean legends, fairy tales, magicians and sorceresses, with beautiful illustrations. Our little readers will travel with great delight through the world of the improbable.
4th Section-Little Peneca's Whys-This section requires neither comment nor explanation. Its purpose is to answer the multitude of questions that naturally arise in children's alert and curious minds.
5th-Feuilleton-Works selected from the finest reading for children by great European and American authors.
6th-Graphic Stories-Pages by our finest artists.
7th-Illustrated Kingdoms of Nature-General classifications, instructive and highly entertaining.
8th-Coloring Plates and Cut-Out Pages-In this section we shall teach how to mix colors to color the sketches entered in competitions, and also how to build bridges, churches, houses and furniture from matchboxes, cardboard or paper.
9th-Games and Pastimes-Lessons in magic and children's sleight of hand; riddles, charades and puzzles. Solutions from previous issues.
10th-Children's Contributions-We accept verses, stories, charades, etc.
11th-Important Correspondence-Between the editor and readers, and among readers themselves. ‘Honor Roll’ of the various schools during every month of the year.
12th-A Little of Everything-Caricatures, photographs, literary competitions, anecdotes, marvels, celebrities, jokes, idioms, sports, etc., etc.
There will also be several pages of advertisements with humorous illustrations.
THE EDITORIAL STAFF.”
EL PENECA, no. 637, January 31, 1921.
The “Chats” section was replaced by “Children's Life,” which appeared on the first page. At the foot of the page it specified: “No indiscreet information will be accepted. Letters for this section must be addressed to ‘Children's Life’ at El Peneca.” These items described social, medical, school and religious events involving children from the upper society of the period. On occasion, they also included news about less affluent readers:
“CHILDREN'S LIFE
“Little Lamb will spend the holidays studying for his examinations. Poor thing!
Tiny Spark is sulking because they will not take her to Viña del Mar. To console her, her mother has promised to subscribe her to PENECA.
The child dancers Max and Marcelo are practicing fantastic dances on the picturesque terrace at Zapallar.”
EL PENECA, no. 638, February 7, 1921.
Little Olga Rioja spends all day with Prince Fernando, who has taught her to balance on her bicycle while crossing the bridge.
Alfonso Diaz will attend the French Fathers' school. We predict an honor medal for him.
Perlita is very proud because all her little friends have praised her interview with La Maravillita. She says that once a month she will offer us her contributions and that she plans to interview The Boy Who Went Wandering the World, Norita Netby, “Blanquita Villaroel,” Petit Pierrot and Mario Alessandri because he is the President's son.
Mario Undurraga is spending the summer in Viña del Mar, dazzling his friends with the Plackard.”
EL PENECA, no. 639, February 14, 1921.
“On Sunday the 19th, a lovely Christmas celebration was held at the Club de Señoras. All the children received toys, sweets and refreshments. Mariita Brieba sang some very charming tonadas. Delita Reyes Izquierdo also sang ‘Cielito Lindo,’ and number 40 won a great carousel in the raffle.
Among the children attending we noticed the Echeverria Baeza, Balmaceda Ossa, Vicuña Ossa, Viera Gallo, Vicuña Barros, Ahumada Prieto, Vial Freire, Jara Barros, Pereira Correa, Pérez de Arce Plummer, Prieto Casanova, Corvallo Stagg, Walker Vial families, etc., etc.
-Pedrito Echeverria Baeza recently underwent throat surgery; the doctors were amazed by his courage. We know he is already better and are delighted, wishing him a speedy recovery and good health.
-On the occasion of making his First Communion at the Church of San Ignacio on Sunday the 11th of this month, little Federico Navarro Alvarez held a four o'clock matinée at his home for a group of his little friends. The hours flew by, thanks to the attention shown by the young host and his sisters, who presided over the splendid buffet, where cakes, ice cream, sandwiches and sweets were abundant, all accompanied by pleasant music.”
EL PENECA, no. 684, December 26, 1921.
In 1921, El Peneca added the section “Chats and Poetry.” The initiative responded to contemporary cultural needs by connecting young readers with a new form of artistic creation.
One example is the poem published in issue no. 650 on May 2, 1921. Its author, “Incógnita,” described a nocturnal garden scene infused with intense emotions such as nostalgia, sadness and a desire for revenge. The text, “Revenge,” narrated a conflict over forgotten dreams and the search for redress through nature.
It was significant that a text carrying such intense emotional weight should be included. This revealed young readers' capacity to connect with complex emotions and with poetry that was both Romantic and modern. The author invoked nature-the breeze, gnomes, the north wind-as instruments for destroying painful memories: “those dreams of mine torn apart by oblivion.” The poem reached its climax when she asked the wind to kill those memories. True revenge did not consist in destroying the past, but in discovering that her own capacity to love and remember remained intact. That is why it ended: “You are avenged already.”
“REVENGE
For May Flower
The moon, a host of light raised by divine and invisible hands above the altar of the forest, hung with fragrant flowering draperies, has just illuminated it... I lift the heavy curtain of honeysuckle that separates me from it: the lulling music, the favorite fragment, scatters over the garden-enchanted by the spell of silver light-a cascade of memories!
Were they here...? Are they under the protection of night...? Does the Moment bring them from another distant and perfumed garden, before whose sealed gate my forgotten dreams are sobbing...? I too want to close my garden; I too want to wound as I am wounded. I shall close the gate, let the icy breeze numb those memories, let evil gnomes tear off their wings and let them die of pain and cold beneath the silver brilliance of the moon! Oh yes, I shall have my revenge! and that same music that lulled my dreams shall lull the piercing intoxication of my vengeance!
Breeze, grow colder, colder still; bring in your cloak that murderous ice of the steppe. Gnomes of the forest, take your cruelty to the utmost against these daring dreams that come knocking at my garden... Yes, breeze, so; let the north wind come to your aid... have no mercy. Did anyone show mercy to those dreams of mine torn apart by oblivion?
Kill them, north wind, I said; and my heart, opening its embrace and lovingly sheltering those memories, answered me joyfully: Child, ask no more! You are avenged already!
INCOGNITA
EL PENECA, no. 650, May 2, 1921.
A poem written on January 31, 1921 by E. De la Barra A. portrayed a proud combatant entering the metaphorical arena of life to struggle against fate and its challenges. He trusted in faith and in his own heart as armor. Mounted on horseback, he symbolized the pursuit of ideals and the determination to overcome obstacles and attain victory. It was an invitation to courage and resolve:
EL PENECA, no. 637, January 31, 1921.
“Roxane” created a section that broke with convention: “Famous Men and Women.” For the first time, women had a place as historical figures, intellectuals and fighters. She published numerous biographies of women who had made a difference in history. The profiles highlighted varied models of female excellence. Examples included the biography of “Cornelia, Mother of the Gracchi,” presented as a symbol of republican virtue through the education of her sons Tiberius and Gaius Gracchus, and a profile of Marcus Tullius Cicero, master of oratory, which completed the picture of civic and intellectual virtues:
“FAMOUS MEN AND WOMEN
‘Cornelia, Mother of the Gracchi’
Cornelia Scipion, daughter of the great conqueror of Carthage, lived in Rome in the first century before Christ. Married to the Roman tribune Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus, she had two sons by this marriage, one named Tiberius and the other Gaius.
Cornelia loved them passionately, educated them in virtue and nobility, and resolved that they should become worthy citizens of Rome.
One day she received a visit from an elegant patrician lady who could speak of nothing but her dresses and jewels until at last she said: ‘I know that you too possess very precious jewels. Will you not show them to me?’
Cornelia rose, left the room, and shortly afterward returned holding her two now-grown sons, one by each hand. ‘These,’ she said, ‘are the only jewels you have heard about.’
Those sons became heroic men, and all Rome recognized that they owed their courage and sense of justice to their mother.
Tiberius Gracchus worked to improve the condition of the people and force landowners to divide those vast estates cultivated by slaves who suffered tyranny and torment. Defending the rights of the plebeians, the brave Tiberius fell, wounded in a clash with the old patricians who monopolized wealth and power.
Gaius continued to defend Tiberius's ideals and, thanks to his eloquence, succeeded in humbling the nobles who had put his brother to death. At the height of his popularity he never despised the helpless or needy, and he died bravely.
-These brothers always honored their mother and, while she was still alive, raised a statue to her bearing the inscription ‘Cornelia mater Grachorum,’ that is, ‘To Cornelia, Mother of the Gracchi.’
What a great destiny it is to be the mother of heroic men.”
CRI-CRI
EL PENECA, no. 651, May 9, 1921.
The July 25, 1921 edition (no. 662) presented a text about the life of “Doña Javiera Carrera de Valdés,” sister of the independence heroes, who fought beside them. She also accompanied them into exile and endured the execution of all three brothers. Although her life was marked by dramatic events, after returning to Chile she continued the struggle to repatriate the remains of Luis, Juan José and José Miguel Carrera, who had been shot in Mendoza:
“FAMOUS MEN AND WOMEN
‘Doña Javiera Carrera de Valdés’
This illustrious matron was born in Santiago in 1871. Her parents were Don Ignacio de la Carrera and Doña Francisca de Paula Verdugo, members of the colonial aristocracy. While still very young she married Don Manuel de la Lastra, with whom she had two children, and was widowed at the early age of nineteen. In 1800 she married for a second time, to Dr. Don Pedro Díaz Valdés.
Doña Javiera's great prestige and the influence she exercised over her three brothers-José Miguel, Juan José and Luis Carrera, high-ranking army officers-made her the heroine of the Patria Vieja and, in the new era, its martyr.
Thus in 1810, by launching her brothers into the arena of political agitation, she made a great political name for herself and became almost a power within the Republic. A year later, urging José Miguel, newly returned from Europe, and her other brothers into the turbulence of revolution, the success of their undertaking made her a supreme authority; and finally, in 1812, when they ruled with all their splendor and all their excesses, this lady stood at the summit of the revolution and was the irresistible counselor of its leaders.
When the Carreras were proscribed after the Battle of Rancagua, Doña Javiera accompanied her brothers across the Andes and shared their fate, enduring great hardships at their side.
Doña Javiera's existence was wretched and turbulent for two years, and at last her bitterness was compounded by the deaths of Luis and Juan José, who were arrested in Mendoza, tried as conspirators and executed in the public square on April 8, 1818. The unfortunate lady could not save her brothers from the scaffold despite all her efforts.
When Buenos Aires learned that José Miguel had returned from the United States and joined General Ramírez in Entre Ríos, the city government arrested Doña Javiera in her home. It then banished her to a fort on the Pampas, from which, with her health broken, she was transferred closer to Buenos Aires and later confined in a convent.
After obtaining her freedom, and because her brother José Miguel had joined the Army of Upper Peru, she fled Buenos Aires on foot and took refuge aboard a Brazilian warship, later seeking asylum in Montevideo. When José Miguel entered Buenos Aires victorious, Doña Javiera went to embrace him for the last time.
At the end of September 1821, in Montevideo she learned of José Miguel's death; he had been shot in Mendoza on September 4 of that year. The catastrophe crushed her so completely that for several months her life was feared for. Miraculously restored to health, she voluntarily prolonged her exile until the fall of the O'Higgins administration. In 1824 she arrived in Valparaíso.”
In her final years, as throughout her life, Mrs. Carrera gave proof of great charity. As she approached death, she left numerous bequests to charitable works.
This illustrious woman, whose virtues and misfortunes made her name so celebrated, died on August 20, 1862, and her funeral rites were worthy of her great merit.
The magazine included figures such as “Gabriela Mistral,” future Nobel laureate in Literature, and national heroines such as “Doña Paula Jaraquemada” and “Antonia Salas de Errázuriz,” the latter recognized for saving lives during the struggle for independence:
“Antonia Salas de Errazuriz
Benefactor of the Homeland.
The illustrious matron was born in Santiago on June 13, 1788. Her parents were the celebrated philanthropist Don Manuel de Salas y Corbalán and Doña Manuela Palazuelos y Aldunate, both members of the most distinguished families.
Gifted with a cheerful and festive nature, Mrs. Salas de Errázuriz was seen from her earliest years as the inseparable companion of her charitable father, joining him on his daily visits to the hospice he had founded, and to prisons and jails, often carrying in her tender arms the clothing that would cover the nakedness of those in need.
Inspired by the ideas of liberty germinating in her heart-the same ideas that made her father and husband among the first martyrs of our independence-Mrs. Salas de Errázuriz conducted herself as a great patriot and a great matron. Her fortitude and resignation never deserted her in those disastrous times. Not a single complaint was heard from her over the suffering caused by the exile to Juan Fernández of her elderly father and her husband. On the contrary, courageous and resigned, she busied herself with finding resources to pay the heavy contributions imposed upon her by the Spanish government, sending provisions to the exiles, and obtaining news to communicate to them and console them in exile, for which she had to evade the Government's vigilance by a thousand ingenious means, until, after the victory at Chacabuco on February 12, 1817, they returned from exile.”
(written by) “JONES”.
EL PENECA, no. 671, September 26, 1921.
The publication also maintained its tradition of historical and intellectual profiles, presenting “Plato and Aristotle” as foundations of Western thought, Alexander the Great as a paradigm of leadership, and “Julius Caesar” as an exemplary military strategist. Among the short biographies were those of “Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart” and Chilean pianist “Claudio Arrau.” The latter received a tribute that included a text by Santa Cruz about his youth and a revealing footnote: “Claudio Arrau has told us that he was an enthusiastic reader of El Peneca and that in Berlin he often sighed with longing to have the magazine.”
“FAMOUS MEN AND WOMEN
‘CLAUDIO ARRAU’
In Germany the Compulsory Education Law is enforced very strictly, so Claudio Arrau, though a foreigner, was required to attend school. He therefore had to study the humanities and languages, in addition to attending the various courses at the Conservatory of Music. Today he knows four languages and possesses brilliant scientific, artistic and literary knowledge.
From the first time the German masters heard Claudio Arrau play, they unanimously declared him a genius and devoted themselves to his instruction with great enthusiasm, particularly his teacher, Maestro Krausse, who affectionately called him his ‘child prodigy.’”
ROXANE
EL PENECA, no. 653, May 23, 1921.
Tribute was paid to Guillermo Zañartu Irigoyen, the aviator who became a martyr in 1921 when his act of self-sacrifice in attempting to save his copilot moved the nation:
“FAMOUS MEN AND WOMEN
GUILLERMO ZAÑARTU IRIGOYEN
Midshipman Zañartu will be an example to all Chilean youth; they will never forget this impressive and sublime lesson in selflessness, sacrifice and supreme patriotism, which will forever magnify the memory of the young martyr...
What a beautiful tribute it would be if all of us PENECAS opened a subscription to raise money for a bronze plaque to be placed upon his grave with the inscription:
‘From today's PENECAS to our martyred companion.’”
PERLITA
EL PENECA, no. 643, March 14, 1921.
Contributor Dante Varas Aratta, born in Valparaíso, highlighted the meteoric career of Renato Zanelli (1892-1935), a Chilean-Italian baritone and later tenor who conquered the world's most prestigious operatic stages, including the Metropolitan Opera in New York, Teatro San Carlo in Naples, the Royal Opera House in London and the Rome Opera House. During the 1920s he reinvented his voice as a tenor, specializing in heroic roles such as Verdi's Otello. His premature death from cancer in 1935 at the age of forty-three cut short his career. Today he is remembered as one of the great dramatic tenors of his era:
“RENATO ZANELLI
Among the most famous artists we may count Mr. Renato Zanelli, a notable Chilean baritone who has received brilliant ovations in the United States.
He was born in Valparaíso, the son of Don Ottorino Zanelli, an Italian national, and Doña Margarita de Zanelli, the latter belonging to one of the country's best-known families.
In 1916 he made his debut during Santiago's official opera season, where the public gave him enthusiastic applause and the critics predicted a brilliant future.
Later he signed a contract with one of the most competent impresarios, committing himself to sing for four years in the seasons held at the Metropolitan Opera House, whose fame as the world's foremost opera house it would be bold to dispute. His debut in the great city of New York was brilliant, especially in the role of ‘Amonasro’ in Aida, the opera immortalized by the famous Verdi. This remarkable giant of lyric theater is under contract with the Victor Company to record his admirable, richly timbred voice.”
DANTE VARGAS ARATTA
EL PENECA, no. 657, June 20, 1921.
A particularly significant moment came in 1921 with the publication of Gabriela Mistral's (1889-1957) poem “The Thistle.” At thirty-two, she was beginning to establish herself as a literary voice in Chile. The publication is especially revealing because she had not yet achieved international recognition; the Nobel Prize in Literature would come in 1945. She was combining pedagogical work in rural schools with poetry while seeking outlets for her writing. “The Thistle” presented a Christian parable in which a humble flower, symbol of resilience, was the only one able truly to see Christ, highlighting the beauty of the marginalized.
This early publication, today almost a collector's piece, can be read as a metaphor for Mistral herself: like that thistle, rising from arid ground to glimpse the divine in art:
“THE THISTLE
By Gabriela Mistral
ONCE a garden lily, in a rich garden, asked the other flowers about Christ. Its owner had spoken His name while praising the newly opened flower. A rose of Sharon, bright purple, replied:
-I do not know Him. Perhaps He is a rustic, for I have seen all the princes.
-Nor have I ever seen Him-added a jasmine, tiny and fragrant-and no refined spirit has failed to breathe in my little flowers.
-Nor I-added the camellia, cold and impassive.-He must be a boor; I have rested upon the breasts of the most beautiful men and women.
The lily replied:
-He would not resemble me if He were, and my owner remembered Him when he looked at me as he passed this morning.
Then the violet said:
There is one among us who must surely have seen Him: our poor brother the thistle. He lives by the roadside and knows everyone who passes, and greets them all with his head covered in ash. Though humbled by dust, he is gentle, for he bears a flower of my own shade.
-You have spoken a truth-replied the lily.-No doubt the thistle knows Christ; but you are mistaken in calling him our brother. He has thorns and is ugly as an evildoer. And an evildoer he is, for he keeps the wool of the little lambs when the flocks pass by.
But, hypocritically sweetening his voice, he called toward the road:
-Brother thistle, poor little brother of ours, the lily asks whether you know Christ.
And on the wind came the tired, almost broken voice of the thistle:
-Yes; He has passed along this road, and I, a sad thistle, touched His garments.
-And is it true that He resembles me?
-Only a little, and only when the moon lays sorrow upon you. You hold your head too high. His is slightly bowed; but His hand is white as a snowflake, and you are very fortunate to resemble Him. No one will ever compare Him to the dusty thistle.
-Tell me, thistle, what are His eyes like?
On another stalk the thistle opened a blue flower.
-What is His breast like?
The thistle opened a red flower.
-That is the color of His breast-he said.
-It is far too harsh a color; it hurts
-said the lily.
-And what does He wear upon His temples as a garland when spring comes?
-The thistle raised its thorns.
-It is a horrible garland-said the camellia.-One forgives roses their little thorns; but those are like the cactus, the bristling cactus of the hillsides.
-And does He love Christ?-the troubled lily continued.-What is His love like?
-This is how Christ loves-replied the thistle, sending the luminous down of its dead flower flying to every wind.
-In spite of everything, said the lily, I should like to see Him. How might I do so, brother thistle?
-To watch Him pass, to receive His gaze, become roadside thistles-replied the thistle.
-He is always traveling the paths, never resting. As He passed, He said to me: ‘Blessed are you, because you flower among the dust and gladden the fevered gaze of the traveler.’ Not even for your perfume will He stop in the rich man's garden, for He is searching the wind for another scent: the scent of men's wounds.
But neither the lily that had been called His brother, nor the rose of Sharon He had plucked as a child upon the hills, nor the braided honeysuckle wished to become roadside thistles; and like princes and worldly women who refused to follow Him across the scorched plains, they remained without ever seeing Him.”
END
EL PENECA, no. 649, April 25, 1921.
In a note written by Elvira Santa Cruz in issue no. 663 of August 1, 1921, she informed readers: “This distinguished writer (Gabriela Mistral) has promised to send her finest stories to El Peneca.”
El Peneca's anthem was, in essence, Elvira Santa Cruz's civic testament after a decade as editor: a reminder that beyond hardship there existed a common territory and a shared honor worth defending. Any child, regardless of social class or city of origin, could feel part of the same sacred ground. Citizenship was not inherited through blood, but through inhabiting that territory.
EL PENECA, no. 1203, December 7, 1931.
Elvira Santa Cruz changed the relationship between editor and child readers by establishing an affectionate model that served as a counterpoint to the approach of her predecessor, Father “Omer Emeth.” While “Emeth” had conceived of the weekly as a “sacred trust” of Catholic values, “Roxane” articulated an alternative pedagogy in which tenderness and dialogue replaced authority. A passage from 1922, whose exact date is unknown, revealed this new path:
“...then it passed into the hands of Omer Emeth, the intelligent and kind priest, who handed it over as a sacred trust to the heart of a woman; perhaps when children grow and feel themselves full of vigor and a will of their own, they yield more readily to a mother's affection, which disarms their outbursts and whims with tenderness and caresses, than to the severe and rigid authority of a man.”
EL PENECA, 1922, exact date unknown.
Elvira Santa Cruz began directing El Peneca in a Chile that, under the government of Arturo Alessandri Palma and the Constitution of 1925, was beginning to broaden social rights. She translated that reformist spirit into the language of the magazine: a call for fraternity among all children, regardless of class, as she expressed in November 1922 when inviting El Peneca to “open its arms” to rich and poor, children and workers alike. It was a declaration of cultural rather than partisan principles, conceiving reading as a bridge between different social worlds:
“TO EL PENECA
Bare your head, then, before them all: before rich and poor, before child and worker, before those who adorn you and those who sell you. Open your strong young arms very wide in a gesture of love, gratitude and fraternity that embraces them all.
...and then return to the maternal embrace of your ‘Roxane.’”
EL PENECA, no. 732, November 27, 1922.
EL PENECA, no. 1282, July 10, 1933.
At first she worked with material inherited from the previous editors. While preserving that line, she began searching for new illustrated stories. She added “Dreams of a Little Peneca” to the center pages, where it ran from February 14, 1921 (issue no. 639) through April 18, 1921 (issue no. 648). “Adventures of a Circus Manager” debuted on April 25, 1921 (issue no. 649). “Adventures of Two Twins” became very popular, running from May 2, 1921 (issue no. 650) through issue no. 675 on October 24, 1921. One series that unquestionably exceeded every expectation of success and remained alive for decades was “Quintín the Adventurer.” It captivated thousands of children, inviting them to dream of journeys to every corner of the world and to experience extraordinary adventures unimaginable at the time. It was a “dream machine,” opening a window onto a world of limitless possibility and expanding the horizons of what children could imagine for their own lives. The announcement itself captured that spirit perfectly:
“QUINTÍN THE ADVENTURER
Next week we shall begin the marvelous series of adventures of a boy hired by a motion-picture company on its journey around the world. The novel is of gripping interest and great topicality.”
EL PENECA, no. 675, October 24, 1921.
Penecas exchanged copies and eagerly wanted to follow the adventures. The phenomenon is particularly significant because those interviewed for this study still remembered it clearly.
As an anecdotal detail, Quintín had already appeared in El Peneca no. 645 (March 28, 1921) in “Quintín's Strange Adventure,” illustrated by A. Alvial Bensen. Its narrative structure, similar to a traditional tale, involved a kidnapping resolved through the appearance of a genie who returned the protagonist home. Alvial Bensen's drawing reflected the introduction of real dangers, always neutralized by magical solutions.
Competitions, Surveys and Reader Participation.
The sections “Contributions,” “Correspondence,” “Sports,” “How Adolfito Interprets What He Reads in El Mercurio,” “How Adolfito Interprets What He Reads in La Nación,” “How Adolfito Interprets What He Reads in Diario Ilustrado,” “Games,” “Pastimes,” “A Little of Everything,” “Survey,” and “Cut-Out Page” alternated according to public response. A wide variety of competitions and prize drawings was introduced to attract new groups of young readers: penecas were invited to take part in musical competitions, contests on Chilean rivers, and fairy-tale and fable competitions. Elvira Santa Cruz also encouraged children to participate actively in events such as celebrations, anniversaries and different clubs:
“SURVEY
HOW WOULD YOU LIKE EL PENECA TO BE?
Regarding the question asked in the previous issue, the only change I would make would be to put the cut-outs on loose sheets, because cutting them out damages a little novel or some other interesting thing that our LITTLE PENECA brings us.”
Yours affectionately and sincerely,-Red Hair.
EL PENECA, no. 645, March 28, 1921.
“Hugo Coello. In my opinion EL PENECA should have 24 pages, color plates, and one page reserved for collecting a series of poems by different well-known authors. As it is now, I do not like it.
Eduardo González, Jorge Peña, Julio Garcia, Jorge Tapia, José Caballero, Oscar Berrios, Ignacio Sepúlveda Garcés, Sergio Azócar, E. González M.-Santiago. We have agreed that none of us will buy your magazine because it looks very ugly.
We want it illustrated and with lots of charades; more than that, with an illustrated book as a prize.
I assure you that if you do not change your mind soon, your magazine will collapse, because we have spread the word throughout Liceo Amunátegui that if it does not come out more or less as it did before, no one should buy it. We have given you until Monday, March 28; and anyone who buys it will get a capote from us.
Nenita. I like EL PENECA just as it is, directed by a firm, brave and intelligent person like you, and I believe this magazine is and will be the ideal of every little peneca, girl or boy.
Roxane would like to know whether that is truly the opinion of the whole Liceo Amunátegui.”
EL PENECA, no. 646, April 4, 1921.
“L. Matus. I believe I have the right to object, since I am a pupil of Liceo Amunátegui. We do not all think alike. I would like the magazine to have 28 pages, one of them devoted to sports. The cut-out and coloring page should be blank on the reverse. A magazine directed by an intelligent person such as yourself ought to be better.
Julio Sepúlveda, Raúl Braun C., Manuel Durán, Eduardo Díaz T., Benjamín Arceu, Héctor Morello, Waldo Parraguez. Santiago.-All of us belong to ‘Liceo Amunátegui,’ and since you wish to know whether the entire school agrees with the opinion printed in the previous issue, we assure you that it does not, and that all of us have bought it.
We think it should remain the same, but have 20 or 24 pages so that it will not take so long to publish the pastimes and contributions sent in, and that the cut-out and coloring page should be blank on the other side, and that it should continue to have a Mama instead of a Papa.
With great astonishment we have seen in today's EL PENECA, in the survey section, that certain gentlemen take the name of ‘all Liceo Amunátegui’ in order to give this beautiful and flourishing magazine a capote.
The signatories González, Peña, García, etc., are nothing more than common usurpers of opinion, for the ‘whole’ Liceo is not represented by those gentlemen.
Your magazine, miss, is highly appreciated at our school; only a few unbalanced individuals pretend otherwise.
Besides, what would EL PENECA gain by being read by those nine usurping types?
Please excuse our harsh vocabulary, for the article directed against our school has greatly irritated us.
We remain yours sincerely,-Dante Alighiere. Charles Noramoza.
Jorge Finch. I would like EL PENECA to have 20 to 24 pages and to come with color plates; I would also like them to continue Dreams of a Little Peneca, and I hope they will.
EL PENECA, no. 647, April 11, 1921.
EL PENECA, no. 1161, February 16, 1931.
EL PENECA, no. 1161, February 16, 1931.
The impact and acceptance of this project were confirmed decades later, in the 1960s, when “Roxane” described her work and philosophy in an interview with the newspaper El Mercurio:
“EL MERCURIO
I never wrote a story containing violence, revenge or evil passions. I gave children romantic stories. Every reader, whatever his temperament, found in ‘El Peneca’ something that excited him. Thus, from the 6,000 copies with which I inherited the magazine, it rose to 240,000.”
On November 14, 1921, in issue no. 678, a special edition full of surprises was announced, confirming the bond between her and the readers:
“CHILDREN'S LIFE
In the next issue ‘EL PENECA’ will celebrate its anniversary. For the occasion it will bring 24 pages of extremely interesting reading, an article by Roxane for her little ones, and other surprises:
Marcela and Gonzalo Vieragallo have already settled into the third floor of their lovely house on Moneda Street. Soon they will give a children's matinée to inaugurate their little sitting room.
María Pascal Lyon is one of EL PENECA's most enthusiastic contributors. We are told she has written a lovely story but does not want her pseudonym revealed, because her cousin Virginia looks down on this children's magazine and thinks it is good only for babies.
Guillermo Santa Cruz is driving the little nuns who patiently teach him to read quite mad. His little friend Raúl beats him by a mile in diligence.
Alejandro Herreros Nebel has become a model of perfection. He already knows German better than the Kaiser.
Little Rebequita Varas Herreros still speaks and thinks only in French. They say she no longer knows how to speak Spanish.”
“Roxane's” commemorative article of 1923 offered an exceptional lens through which to understand the phenomenon: beyond the spectacular figures, she proclaimed it “The Most Widely Read Magazine in Chile”:
“Economically, the triumph has been complete. From a magazine that barely printed 10,000 copies, we have made a weekly so desired and sought after by children that, as I complete my second year as editor, I see the present issue go out with 50,000 copies. EL PENECA has broken a record never reached by another Chilean magazine. EL PENECA is the most widely read magazine in Chile.”
EL PENECA, no. 744, February 19, 1923.
On the fifth anniversary of her editorship in 1926, the magazine recorded major commercial success. According to Zig-Zag's records, weekly sales reached a record 68,000 copies.
“Five years have passed from March 22, 1921 to today. Five glorious years, if one may say so. Why not? This child, eternally a child, has triumphed in every respect. Economically, its circulation exceeds 68,000 copies. And according to its editor, it is the magazine with the largest circulation in the country.”
EL PENECA, no. 905, March 22, 1926.
The fact that El Peneca printed 150,000 copies in 1938 was extraordinary, revealing that Chile had a child and youth readership large enough to sustain a weekly run of that size, supported by an efficient network of newsstands and subscriptions. If one considers that a single copy was read by several people-siblings, cousins, neighbors, schoolchildren, and others-the magazine's real reach was greater still.
The Golden Decade and the Stability of the Team. 35th Anniversary, November 2, 1942.
With a magnificent photograph of Elvira Santa Cruz and texts in tribute to her, the issue reaffirmed the affection and respect she inspired. Mirthala's poem “Greeting” and the testimony of “Ketmis,” who worked with her at the Reñaca School Colony, presented an editor viewed as a maternal figure and spiritual guide. “Ketmis” summarized it by saying that “Roxane” was “the brain, the nerve of ‘El Peneca,’” and that her success lay in the fact that “she has looked deeply into children's hearts” and “always knows what her readers like”:
EL PENECA, no. 1772, November 2, 1942.
Issue no. 1928 of El Peneca, dated November 24, 1945, celebrated its 38th anniversary. The edition was conceived as a tribute to the people who made the magazine possible, emphasizing the longevity and loyalty of figures such as “Ketmis,” “Coré” and Atria, who demonstrated that El Peneca was a “home” where the team grew and stayed. The implicit message was: “If our creators have been here for so many years, it is because the magazine is good and trustworthy (L.C.).”
The edition included a portrait of “Roxane” and “Coré” in the printing workshops, as well as illustrations introducing other prominent members of the team, among them Olga Villalón (general secretary), “Ketmis” (editorial secretary), Elena Poirier (artist) and Alberto Lungenstras (artist).
Issue no. 2188, dated November 18, 1950, was a farewell poised between success and loss. It recalled the figures: 9,000 copies at the beginning, more than 200,000 later. The number itself was proof of a dream that had crossed borders and become a childhood companion across Latin America. “Thirty years, dear readers, is an immense period for you. It is for me as well, but I have not felt it that way, perhaps because in the whirlwind of work there is no time to calculate how life passes.” It was her way of drawing close to the children, telling them that she too had once been young in that adventure.
Her nephew, Mario Silva Ossa, had disappeared in March. No one knew how, where or why. Only that he went out “to get some fresh air” and never returned. True to her style, she opened the pages so that Atria, Elena Poirier and everyone who loved “Coré” could say goodbye. She herself, however, remained silent in that issue.
And in the editorial for that number she wrote: “Two or three generations of passionate readers are accompanying me on this XLII anniversary of the triumphant ‘Peneca.’ To all of them Editor Roxane sends an affectionate greeting, as she descends toward the sunset of life without bitterness or discouragement, because everything is made beautiful by the love her favorite children-the readers of ‘El Peneca’-have always shown her.”
It was her farewell. Softly, without drama, like someone closing a door without making a sound.
At the end of her editorship in 1951, Elvira Santa Cruz formulated in a farewell text a lucid theory of children's emotional needs that anticipated principles of a new era:
“A child is demanding by nature; he asks for constant renewal, something new that startles and impresses his senses, something that makes him dream, laugh or think.”
EL PENECA, no. 2233, September 22, 1951.
She explicitly acknowledged the collective work that sustained the magazine's success, particularly emphasizing its contributors:
“I remember the precocious and persistent Kukufate (Rial or Ketmis), Manuel Huebner, and many other companions in literary composition; in drawing, Coke, Fidelicio Atria, the Monteolas, the Almaes, Elena Poirier, and the brilliant Coré, whose covers and drawings immortalized his name.”
EL PENECA, no. 2233, September 22, 1951.
Across its trajectory from 1921 to 1951, El Peneca consolidated a literary and graphic model that harmonized tradition and modernity, as its issues from 1926 and 1948 reveal. This diachronic view demonstrates that the magazine preserved its identity as “the favorite reading of thousands of children.”
The persistence of comics and increasingly long serialized novels, together with the delicate balance between instruction and entertainment, rested on multiple factors. Among them stood the aesthetic renewal of the covers, which shifted toward a more agile visual language, and the emergence of Mario Silva Ossa (“Coré”), whose drawing from 1932 onward would give the publication its definitive graphic identity. The format also expanded to thirty-six pages, giving the whole greater thematic and visual cohesion.
A comparison of the 1926 and 1948 editions demonstrates the magazine's editorial vitality and offers a snapshot of two moments in its history: the 1920s, at the dawn of the cultural industry, and the 1940s, the golden age of Chilean magazines-from the Chile of the early century to the accelerated urbanization of the mid-twentieth century:
the cover featured an illustration of “Beauty and the Beast,” probably drawn by one of the Alvial brothers. Inside were “Chats and Poetry” and illustrated panels telling the serialized story “Carmañola the Brave.” The same issue also carried the serial “Quintín the Adventurer,” together with “Aunt Cutufa's Sufferings” and the serialized novel “The Inheritance of Tomás Seytón.” There was also the comic “The Excursionist and His Helpers: Major Palote, Pegote and Papiro.” The center pages featured the comic series “Little Charlie Chaplin,” alongside sections such as “Our Contributors” and “Miscellany.” The comic “A Dangerous Sneeze,” “Games and Pastimes,” “Puzzles,” and short stories by young contributors, such as “The Calves' Doctor” (dedicated to contributor Lautaro), completed the contents. Advertisements, a new episode of “Quintín the Adventurer,” and finally the serialized strip “Rosita the Intrepid” on the back cover rounded out the issue.
the cover, illustrated by Coré, showed the Virgin Mary and her child in full color, surrounded by little angels. Inside was the serialized illustrated story “Brave Heart,” together with “Youthful Poems.” The serialized novel “Adventures of Chiche” appeared, followed by the long-running comic “Durga-Rani, Queen of the Jungle.” The story “The Fourth Wise Man,” illustrated in black and white by Fidelicio Mardones Atria, shared space with “Christmas Carols,” appropriate to the holiday issue. New installments of “The Tsar's Courier,” “Riddles,” “Two Brave Men,” and “School for Vagabonds” were added. The beginning of the series “Captain Audacity” was announced alongside advertisements. The comic “The Two Crackpots,” the continuation “Sandar's Return,” the “Correspondence” section, and a new installment of “Brave Heart” on the final page completed the weekly. The back cover featured a full-color illustration of “The Tsar's Courier.”
Elvira Santa Cruz selected some of the best-known works of world classical literature for children and young people, adapting them into continuous serials that captivated entire generations. Together with her team, she transformed these stories through language accessible to young readers eager to discover enchanted worlds, fantastic landscapes and unfamiliar characters.
This innovative vision turned the weekly into an unprecedented creative force and established new standards. It transcended its role as an editorial product to become a genuine platform for children's collective expression. In essence, it was a social network decades before the digital age.
Under “Roxane's” direction, El Peneca reached the height of its visual splendor. It filled with color, movement and fantasy. This was the era of the great illustrators, many of whom trained in the magazine's own pages and later became central figures in Chilean culture.
The Covers: From Photography to Caricature.
At first the covers preserved the contents and designs of the previous editors, presenting portraits of children from affluent families, such as Adrianita Schroder Saelzer, who appeared on February 21, 1921 (issue no. 640), and in the following issue, no. 641, was portrayed with her mother. The March 21, 1921 cover (issue no. 644) published a photograph of a group of girls with their maternal grandmother: “Olga and Aninat Gómez Albrecht with their grandmother from Boroa”. On March 28, 1921 (issue no. 645), a black-and-white photograph showed “A Porteña,” a resident of the port city of Valparaíso. Portraits of Mimi Huebner, Enriquito Pascal, Teresita Calvo Vial, Estercita Matte Alessandri, Alicia Larraín and Mariita Subercaseaux Vial reflected a traditional family tone. By the end of 1921, this approach was supplemented by the caricature of “Little Charlie Chaplin.” The transition from photography to caricature marked a shift toward popular culture, in tune with the worldwide phenomenon of Charles Chaplin in silent film, an omnipresent figure of the 1920s.
Lautaro (1901-1986) and Aníbal Alvial Bensen.
Among the first artists to collaborate with Elvira Santa Cruz were the brothers Lautaro (1901-1986) and Aníbal Alvial Bensen. The cover of issue no. 648 (April 18, 1921) featured “The Girl at the Fountain,” a two-color illustration signed by name. Lautaro in particular was later recognized with Chile's National Journalism Prize, drawing category, in 1970. An example of the fusion between art and literature appeared in issue no. 669 (September 12, 1921), where the Alvial brothers displayed their talent in an illustration capturing the essence of the Brothers Grimm tale “Hansel and Gretel.” On the cover, an enigmatic forest surrounded the two children seen from behind, while the unsettling silhouette of a witch emerged at the entrance to the house. A short text at the foot of the cover was designed to ignite young readers' imaginations:
“HANSEL AND GRETEL.-After being lost in the forest for three days, Hansel and Gretel found a house whose walls were made of nougat and whose windows were made of rock candy. Since they were very hungry, Hansel broke off several pieces, which the two children began to eat. Suddenly the door opened and an old, very old woman appeared, with a terrible face. Frightened, the children dropped the sugar and nougat, but instead of scolding them the old woman invited them inside.”
Some covers, such as “Magic Oven,” issue no. 651 (May 9, 1921), referred to stories and legends published inside. Others, such as issue no. 652 (May 16, 1921), introduced tales like “The Magic Little Bell.” The cover of issue no. 657 (June 20, 1921), “The White Elephant,” included text integrated into the drawing inviting readers to discover the story of a prince transformed into an elephant by a spell: “THE WHITE ELEPHANT.-The white elephant seized the royal crown with its trunk and ran off with it.”
Fidelicio Atria Mardones, known in the world of drawing by the signature “A,” was one of Chile's most important illustrators of the twentieth century. He trained at the School of Fine Arts.
His specialty was black-and-white chiaroscuro. Atria knew how to balance light and shadow with great technical precision. His line was impeccable, and he mastered the contrast between black and white to create depth, atmosphere and emotion in every drawing.
In issue no. 1149, Jorge Aldunate G. reviewed the year's contributors and, when assessing the illustrators, wrote verbatim: “In this section we do not take Atria into account, because doing so would be pointless.” Atria was already an established artist who needed no evaluation: his name was synonymous with quality and experience. He had joined El Peneca in 1921, at the age of seventeen, illustrating a story by his friend Ralph Stanssel, and by 1930 he was already one of its most prominent figures.
Atria was one of the magazine's most consistent and longest-serving illustrators. For decades he was responsible for bringing the interior pages to visual life. On January 17, 1927 he illustrated the Snow White series (issue no. 948), as well as section headings such as “Chats and Poetry.” His talent extended to the drawings accompanying poetry and puzzle sections and, on occasion, to cover art. Zig-Zag, together with the Universo printing house, commissioned him to design the edition of “The Fantastic Library.” His influence was considerable, and disciples imitated his style, adapting their work to Atria's characteristic line. His illustrations remain examples of craftsmanship, technique and artistic sensitivity. Each drawing was a small work of art that accompanied the childhood of thousands of Chilean children:
“OUR CONTRIBUTORS
Atria: Why tell you once again that you are an illustrator in the fullest sense of the word?
There is a mysterious charm in your work. I admire black lilies, disheveled tulips, Japanese interiors, fascinating, sinuous cobras—in short, everything original and exotic. How, then, could I fail to admire an illustrator who, little by little, reveals himself?
I have heard so many words of praise for your work; you enjoy so much affection among young people that, if I began to pick apart and recount each story one by one, you would become prouder than Bluebeard's sultan. And that will not do. Perhaps it would make you rest on your laurels, and that would do harm. Is it not people like you whom the intellectual world needs?
Greetings from: MENPHIS.”
EL PENECA, no. 834, November 10, 1924.
On November 28, 1932, in issue no. 1250 of El Peneca, Atria and Mario Silva Ossa shared the podium in the Twenty-Fifth Anniversary competition. Atria received Second Prize (Out of Competition). It was recognition of his talent, but also a point of departure for two careers that, though equally brilliant, would take different paths.
Barely a week later, on December 5, 1932, Atria illustrated the cover of issue no. 1251. The drawing, titled “Congo, the Titan,” showed a carefully framed central figure against a background suggesting a jungle or exotic setting. Printed in two colors, the illustration revealed his ability to create volume and depth through contrasts of light and shadow.
EL PENECA, no. 1251, December 5, 1932.
Issue no. 794 (February 4, 1924): an illustration of a mother with her daughter at sunset. Issue no. 897 (January 25, 1926): a drawing for a Taoist tale about mastery of the emotions, in which the main character radiates serenity.
Issue no. 2022 (September 13, 1947): “The Standard-Bearer of the Homeland,” on historical events written by “Roxane” in commemoration of Chile's Independence celebrations.
Issue no. 2078 (October 9, 1948): illustrations for “The Discoverer of America, Christopher Columbus.”
Issue no. 2086 (December 4, 1948): drawings for the story “The Wise Broom.”
He was one of Chile's most influential cartoonists and illustrators. Born in 1911, by the age of seven he was already filling entire notebooks with drawings, an early talent that would make him a central figure in Chilean graphic humor.
Although his family steered him toward a “serious” profession—he even enrolled in Medicine at university—his vocation prevailed, and he entered the School of Fine Arts in Santiago.
In 1932, at only twenty-one, he began collaborating with the renowned illustrator Jorge Délano, known as “Coke.” Their partnership produced “El Pobre Diablo” (“The Poor Devil”), a roguish character who anticipated the popular humor that Pepo would later develop so fully in Condorito. He subsequently worked for the magazines El Pingüino and Can-Can, where he refined an agile, expressive style closely attuned to everyday speech.
“Pepo” came to El Peneca during its third stage, a difficult period in which the magazine struggled to regain its footing after the editor's departure. There he worked alongside first-rate colleagues: Elena Poirier, Themo Lobos, Renato Andrade and Alfredo Adduard.
In 1949 he created Condorito, the magazine that would house Chile's most emblematic comic character. The strip, starring a mischievous, good-natured condor who was forever getting into trouble, transcended generations and remains in circulation to this day, translated into different languages.
I had the opportunity to interview René Ríos Boettiger (ca. 1990) in the course of this research. Unfortunately, the recording of that conversation was stolen together with other materials during a burglary at my home in Macul. I nevertheless retain in my notes several comments worth recovering. “Pepo,” for example, remembered that at El Peneca the illustrators worked with pen and India ink—with no digital corrections—and that the editor asked them to make children recognize their own neighbors in the panels. Humor, he said, grew out of direct observation of the neighborhood.
Issue no. 818 (July 21, 1924) featured a striking cover illustrated by “Dicky Spark,” a pseudonym whose real identity has never been established. It showed a girl seated on a cushion against a white background, absorbed in contemplating her reflection in an ornately carved mirror.
A few months later, issue no. 841 (December 29, 1924) included an illustration signed with the pseudonym “Norfolk.” The image portrayed a tender blond, blue-eyed baby, reinforcing the publication's lyrical, dreamlike style. With this contribution, “Norfolk” joined the list of unidentified artists.
In issue no. 896 (January 18, 1926), Víctor Orellana signed and illustrated the cover “Getting Ready for Summer,” in which a plump, charming little girl radiated happiness. The following month, in issue no. 897 (January 25, 1926), he drew the same girl again, this time winking playfully, accompanied by the question: “Did I pass?”
Although his biography has not been reconstructed, Orellana's style—with rounded figures and exaggerated features—revealed clear influences from comics and caricature.
Beyond the artists' signatures, El Peneca's covers portrayed children enjoying everyday moments or playing on swings, emphasizing innocence and a sense of community, as can be seen in issue no. 834 (November 10, 1924). They also illustrated passages from stories and legends, such as “Beauty and the Beast” in issue no. 894 (January 4, 1926), where a princess approached the Beast, stricken by her departure. The caption read: “The Beast fell ill with grief because of Beauty's absence.”
During this period, covers such as “Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves,” “The Hunchbacked Prince,” “Puss in Boots,” and “My Friend Pierrot Leaves for the Moon” moved between the figurative and the abstract, bathed in a palette of pastel colors.
The faces of the Pierrots—both the protagonist and his companions—and the moon itself shared a visual language of rounded forms, repeated even in the balloons carrying the basket skyward. Circular silhouettes came to dominate much of the composition. Markedly experimental in character, these images evoked the spirit of 1920s modern art, in which forms were being freed from convention to explore new visual styles.
These examples illustrate the diversity of approaches to authorship that coexisted in El Peneca: from complete anonymity to explicit recognition of the artist, with the intermediate use of pseudonyms that, while preserving some creative credit, also shielded the person's real identity.
Editorial policy in this regard was flexible, varying according to the historical period and, very probably, according to individual agreements with each artist.
To commemorate its twenty-fourth anniversary, El Peneca paid tribute to its founders by reissuing its first cover. This iconic image, originally created in 1908 by José Foradori, was reproduced as a nostalgic homage and as a reaffirmation of the magazine's editorial continuity. It honored the publication's graphic heritage and established a visual dialogue between new generations of readers and the first children who had witnessed its birth. It was also a bridge between two eras: the beginnings, marked by Foradori's academic, European line, and the magazine's editorial maturity, which already counted on the talent of illustrators such as Fidelicio Atria and, from 1932 onward, Mario Silva Ossa (“Coré”):
“EL PENECA (Facsimile of the cover of the first issue of ‘El Peneca’
Today Chilean children celebrate with universal rejoicing the twenty-fourth anniversary of the magazine that was born at the dawn of the twentieth century, radiating light and joy throughout the world of childhood. The little Peneca grew, grew more beautiful, and acquired wisdom. Today it is an important and prestigious weekly, increasingly beloved by Chile's youthful ranks.
Long live ‘EL PENECA,’ and long live Chile!”
EL PENECA, no. 1201, November 23, 1931.
Elena Poirier was a Chilean illustrator and visual artist, known for the prolific and delicate body of work with which she brought covers and the interiors of books to life, especially in children's and young adult literature. Born in Chile in 1921, she showed exceptional talent for drawing from an early age. Her professional career began when the father of one of her friends, an employee of the Zig-Zag publishing house, showed her sketches to Mario Silva Ossa, “Coré,” who immediately invited her to collaborate. In her illustrations Poirier wove magical worlds. Her work was, in essence, to guard a realm of fantasy for children, making the fantastic seem to spring from everyday life: a bridge between the imagined and the visible.
She illustrated protagonists in stories such as “The Last Pharaoh” (adapted by Odilia Navarro, “Ketmis”). She stood out both in full-color work, such as the back cover of issue no. 2005 (May 17, 1947), and in black-and-white adaptations of “Ben-Hur” (issue no. 2051, April 3, 1948). She also worked on “The Tsar's Courier” and “The Scarlet Pimpernel.”
Issue no. 2188 (November 18, 1950) was a representative example of one of her working methods. On this occasion she divided the cover into four panels, a choice that created an innovative visual dynamic. Each panel presented a miniature story, capturing a different moment of adventure. The device functioned as a kind of preview or graphic trailer, condensing four different characters, settings and situations into a single image.
She also illustrated “The Cursed Archipelago” (issue no. 2189, November 25, 1950).
Issue no. 2216 (June 2, 1951) featured the illustration “Silvano and His Treasures,” showing a prince beneath the sea surrounded by mermaids. In issue no. 2297 (December 20, 1952), by allowing the faces of a boy and a girl to fill the entire page, Poirier placed the emphasis on the children's emotion and reaction before a tiny stable and the birth of the Christ Child.
For readers of the 1950s, the ocean floor was a setting as exotic and mysterious as the moon or the African jungle. A prince in such surroundings immediately evoked lost kingdoms such as Atlantis, blending medieval fantasy with the underwater imagination. The presence of mermaids embodied the enigmatic danger of the sea. In the classical tradition, mermaids were not gentle creatures but powerful, fascinating and mysterious beings.
Poirier left Chile in 1957, but never stopped sending her illustrations to Chilean publishers. She died in Rome in 1998.
Mario Igor Vargas (1929-1995): The Black Prince of Chilean Illustration.
At fourteen, he began sending illustrations to El Peneca, where he was accepted immediately. He started his career as a contributor under the direction of Mario Silva Ossa. He later worked for publications such as Okey magazine and the famous Condorito. His talent for drawing earned him the nickname “Black Prince” among his friends. After “Coré's” death, he took over cover work together with Elena Poirier and Alfredo Adduard. He maintained a close friendship with Abel Romero, with whom he worked at Zig-Zag. When that company passed into the hands of Quimantú, Igor continued working there and later at Editorial Gabriela Mistral. Despite his long career, he died in 1995 in precarious financial circumstances.
Alberto Lungenstras: The Man Behind “Quintín the Adventurer.”
Alberto Lungenstras worked at El Peneca from a very young age. He had a natural talent and an early vocation for drawing.
Amid stories and adventures, Lungenstras repeatedly brought the character “Quintín the Adventurer” to life whenever installments from abroad failed to arrive on time. The character became so closely associated with the illustrator that the editorial staff nicknamed him “Quintín.”
Nicomedes Guzmán “Ovaguz” (1914-1964): From Drawing to Social Criticism.
He began drawing for El Peneca at the age of fifteen, revealing a precocious talent for the visual arts. He later established himself as a writer, distinguished by his ability to move between drawing and works charged with social criticism and popular sensibility. On February 15, 1937, in issue no. 1947 of El Peneca, he published a poem titled “Drowsiness,” accompanied by an illustration by Fidelicio Atria. The collaboration represented an exemplary fusion: Atria's pencil in dialogue with Guzmán's words. Although Guzmán became better known for his literary work, La sangre y la esperanza (Blood and Hope, 1943), his time at El Peneca demonstrated his versatility as an artist, a bridge between pencil and word. The pseudonym “Ovaguz” was a kind of wordplay common among contributors of the period:
“CHATS AND POETRY
Drowsiness... drowsiness:
summer heat...
the wish to do
nothing,
the wish to
Rest, sleep,
beneath the winged
foliage
of the green season
with brushstrokes
of gold...
The trees, all of them,
are silent.
they hush their languor...
only a willow
tells its sorrows
to the river...”
OVAGUZ
EL PENECA, no. 1947, February 15, 1937.
Themo Lobos (Temístocles Lobos, 1928-2012): The Creator of Two Worlds.
He was a cartoonist, comic-strip illustrator and creator of Chilean characters. Born in Santiago in 1928, he showed artistic talent from an early age.
His career began precociously at El Peneca, where he first contributed small drawings and later formally joined the team of illustrators between 1951 and 1960. He found inspiration in characters such as “Quintín the Adventurer” and in “Coré,” who “instilled in him a love of drawing.”
He studied at the School of Applied Arts and worked for the Zig-Zag publishing house, the newspaper La Nación, and the magazines El Pingüino and Barrabases.
Themo Lobos participated in Mampato magazine from its creation in 1968. The magazine was conceived by his colleague and close friend, architect and illustrator Eduardo Armstrong (1921-1973), who also created the main character, “Mampato,” together with Óscar Vega (1945-2007). Lobos designed figures that became indispensable touchstones of Chilean culture: Kilikilis, Golagolas, Ogú, Alaraco and many others.
Mampato brought together four key elements that made it unique: history, humor, social criticism and science fiction.
Themo Lobos made a significant contribution to Chilean comics through his singular ability to fuse history with an unmistakable graphic and narrative style. He died in Valparaíso in 2012.
He was a master of Chilean illustration. In the period following the death of Mario Silva Ossa, “Coré,” he brought a distinctive style to the magazine: crisp strokes, clean lines and a warm color palette. He illustrated the cover “The Galoshes of Fortune” for issue no. 1789 (March 1, 1943), as well as the covers of issue no. 1790, “Sandar, the Titan” (March 8, 1943), and no. 1791, “The Head of Medusa” (March 15, 1943).
In issue no. 2160 (May 6, 1950), titled “Princess Zulima,” Adduard depicted an athletic young man of sculptural physique fighting a furious tiger; the knife was painted gleaming, giving the scene an instant of dramatic tension.
Issue no. 2161 (May 13, 1950) presented “What the Plain Saw,” in which two geishas in silk kimonos played chess under the watch of a guardian, encapsulating a harmony between culture and nature.
In issue no. 2179 (September 16, 1950), two children in rigid military posture saluted a Chilean flag unfurled against a golden-yellow background.
In 1951, issue no. 2231 (September 15, 1951) offered another notable example: a commemorative illustration for Chile's Independence celebrations. A cadet soldier held the Chilean flag aloft. The white, blue and red of the national emblem stood out elegantly against a pastel-yellow background that intensified the flag's vivid red.
Adduard was also the creator of the character “Don Bilz,” who appeared again and again in a three-panel comic strip drinking the soft drink of that name. He contributed to children's and entertainment magazines such as Mamita, Aladino and El Cabrito.
In 1965, he received the National Journalism Prize in the Drawing category, crowning a dedicated career in which he blended humor, social criticism and impeccable visual execution. His work educated and entertained generations of Chilean children.
Raúl Manteola was a Chilean illustrator. He contributed to El Peneca and also to Argentine magazines such as Para Ti, living for years in Argentina because his work as an artist was better paid there than in Chile. Renowned as a gifted portraitist of women, he worked on the covers of famous magazines such as Ecran.
“Los Almaes” were mentioned under this pseudonym by Elvira Santa Cruz in her farewell as editor on September 26, 1951. Their real names were never known.
Renato Andrade discovered his vocation in adolescence, inspired by the comic magazines of the period. His talent led him to become an illustrator for the Zig-Zag publishing house. Among his best-known characters were “Pirulín” (created for the magazine Cabrito), “Cachupín” and “Cucharita.”
He contributed to the football magazine Barrabases and to the risqué humor magazine El Pingüino, both created by the prominent editor Guido Vallejo. He remained with El Peneca until the late 1960s, witnessing and participating in its final years.
Before Mario Silva Ossa, “Coré,” turned illustration into the visual soul of El Peneca, there was another way of looking at children: photography. In its early years the magazine published portraits of children but almost never revealed who stood behind the camera. Anonymity was the rule.
During her editorship, however, something exceptional occurred. She decided to break with that practice and name some of the photographers. In a gesture unique in Chilean children's publishing at the time, the pages of El Peneca displayed signatures such as “K. Nanyo,” Jorge Valck, Odber Heffer and Carlos Charlín Munizaga.
Behind those names lay fascinating stories: a Japanese photographer trained by portraitists of the Imperial Household, a pioneer of cinema in Valparaíso, a Canadian who defended photography as an art, and a tenacious Chilean who established university laboratories.
Gennosuke Kakegawa (“K. Nanyo”).
The covers of issue no. 671 (September 26, 1921) and issues nos. 675 and 676 (October 24 and 31, 1921) featured the first photographs signed by Gennosuke Kakegawa, who worked under the pseudonym “K. Nanyo.” Trained in Japan under the guidance of his uncle, a portraitist to the Japanese Imperial Household, Kakegawa had founded the “Nanyo” photographic studio in Chile in 1915. He photographed Gabriela Riesco Stuven, Luchita Bulnes Sanfuentes, Roberto Vargas Biggs and Luis Subercaseaux Aldunate. Kakegawa returned to Japan in 1960, closing a significant chapter in Chilean photography.
Jorge Valck (1853-1933).
On the covers of issue no. 677 (November 7, 1921) and issues nos. 680 and 682 (November 28 and December 12, 1921), the photographs bore the signature of Jorge Valck, a member of a pioneering photographic family. His father, Enrique Valck, had arrived in Chile in 1852. Jorge, in partnership with Félix Leblanc, established a studio in Valparaíso devoted to portraits and landscapes. Valck also ventured into cinema, founding the production company “Valck Films” in 1924. He photographed Albertito Tuteleers, Fernando Torres Maillard, Rebeca Schiavietti-Schiavetti and Olga Vijil Simson.
Odber Heffer (1860-1945).
Canadian photographer Odber Heffer, regarded as one of the pioneers of artistic photography in Chile, took the portrait of Lucy Jara Barros published in issue no. 659 (July 4, 1921). His professional career began in 1887, when he arrived in Valparaíso, then the country's principal port and cultural center, and established his first photographic studio. After consolidating his reputation as a portraitist, he sold the Valparaíso studio to the renowned photographer Jorge Valck and moved his business to Santiago, where for decades he photographed the Chilean elite. Heffer was not only a professional photographer but an active advocate of photography as an artistic expression, distinguished especially by his defense of amateur photography as a creative practice. His legacy marked an important stage in the cultural appreciation of photography in Chile.
Carlos Charlín Munizaga (1890-1950).
Issue no. 661 (July 18, 1921) featured a portrait of Pilita Subercaseaux. Carlos Charlín Munizaga was a Chilean photographer whose life and career were marked by perseverance, talent and a contribution to the development of documentary and educational photography in Chile. From an early age he took up photography as a trade and means of support, refining his skills until he achieved technical mastery. Despite economic setbacks that caused him to lose his business on more than one occasion, his passion for images kept him going. In 1948 he assumed a key role when he took charge of the photographic laboratory of the Directorate of Information and Culture (DIC), under the Ministry of the Interior, which was later transferred to the University of Chile. He became part of the Institute of Educational Cinematography, contributing to the creation of the university's Department of Photography and Film. Charlín Munizaga directed it until his death, leaving a legacy in the training of generations of photographers and in the visual documentation of Chile. In recognition of his work, the University of Chile named after him the photographic laboratory he himself had organized, honoring his dedication and contribution to the country's visual culture.
Mario Silva Ossa, known by the pseudonym “Coré,” a name of biblical origin associated with the defense of equality and which for the young artist represented the search for a creative path of his own, officially began contributing to El Peneca in 1932. His relationship with the publication, however, had started earlier, when his aunt Elvira Santa Cruz Ossa repeatedly invited him to illustrate for it.
He was born on March 9, 1913. He began drawing in childhood. He was educated at Colegio San Ignacio and went on to study architecture, completing his second year.
El Peneca was celebrating its Twenty-Fifth Anniversary—its Silver Jubilee—in November 1932. It was a major milestone: twenty-five years as “the children's magazine most beloved by Chilean children.”
The celebration strategy unfolded on two fronts:
A raffle with extraordinary prizes—a child's automobile, an $1,800 radio-phonograph, a movie camera, and more—to attract readers; and a literary and artistic competition designed to discover new talent and renew the magazine's contents.
The jury was composed of important figures in Chilean literature of the period: Hernán del Solar, writer, critic and scholar who would later receive the National Prize for Literature; Luis Enrique Délano, short-story writer, novelist and journalist; and “Roxane.” Their presence lent prestige and seriousness to the competition. The purpose was also to renew the relationship with young readers and discover new graphic and literary talent. The most notable contestants were “Coré” and Fidelicio Atria.
First Prize (Out of Competition) went to Mario Silva (“Coré”). The “out of competition” category was generally used for work of such exceptional quality that the judges chose to honor it above the regular field, or for established contributors who already had a reputation. In this case, however, Silva was a young man between sixteen and nineteen years old—“Coré” was born in 1913—and the distinction served to single him out and give him a decisive vote of confidence. It was his official launch as an illustrator.
EL PENECA, no. 1250, November 28, 1932.
cover and back cover
“Coré's” illustrations stood out for a refined, balanced aesthetic marked by sinuous curves and strokes influenced by the Baroque. They transcended a merely complementary role to become autonomous works, in which masterful command of the pen nib in India ink and vividly colored watercolors imparted a unique vitality. Every creation displayed meticulous detail and technical precision, establishing a visual dialogue both with literary classics and with the magazine's anonymous authors.
His signature itself was unmistakable, the mark with which he signed and presented the first page:
EL PENECA, no. 1286, August 7, 1933.
As evidence of his creative process, El Peneca sometimes reproduced the original black-and-white sketch alongside the final color version, as on the cover of issue no. 1761 (September 12, 1942). This comparison makes it possible to appreciate his technical command of shadows and volume from the preliminary stage through to the finished work. The sketch revealed how precisely the artist balanced the ink line before giving color complete freedom.
In 1943 he produced the illustrations for the young adult book Lautaro, joven libertador de Arauco (Lautaro, Young Liberator of Arauco), written by Fernando Alegría. He also enriched the Chilean youth edition of Cuore (Heart, 1886), the celebrated work by the Italian Edmondo De Amicis (1846-1908), with his drawings.
His illustrations graced the first edition of Cocorí (1947), by Costa Rican writer Joaquín Gutiérrez (1918-2000), who years later would participate in publishing projects linked to Quimantú. The book was originally published by Editorial Rapa Nui and would later receive the Rapa Nui Prize.
“Coré” launched his own publishing company under the name Editorial Cervantes S.A., reflecting his constant search for creative independence and his commitment to Chilean graphic and literary art.
A landmark contribution was his collaboration with educator Adrián Dufflocq (1905-1993) in creating the Silabario hispanoamericano (Hispanic-American Primer), published by Zig-Zag in 1945. Intended for Spanish-speaking children, this work formed part of a literacy project. Hundreds of generations of children learned through the method developed by Adrián Dufflocq, while Mario Silva Ossa, as illustrator, accompanied them visually through their first steps toward reading, merging pedagogy and art. This teaching material, enriched by “Coré's” drawings, remained treasured in the hearts of those who remember that first childhood lesson: ma-me-mi-mo-mu.
Portraitist of Marginalized Childhood.
Mario Silva Ossa took on a testimonial role: he repeatedly portrayed young street vendors, emphasizing their dignity, effort and resilience. His drawings immortalized scenes of marginalized childhood—shoeshine boys, street vendors, newsboys—becoming a social mirror of the period.
Among the most representative issues were:
1354 (illustration of a young newspaper seller, October 29, 1934),
1510 (a young Peneca newspaper seller ran through the street calling out El Peneca, October 25, 1937),
1667 (illustration of a boy reading El Peneca while seated on a globe, October 28, 1940),
1672 (a stooped old man tenderly and carefully carrying a baby on his shoulders, December 2, 1940),
1714 (“Children's Week,” a close-up of the face of a dark-haired country boy in a simple hat, September 22, 1941),
1766 (“Children's Week,” a little girl hugging her rag doll, September 21, 1942),
1772 (a working-class boy racing to deliver the weekly, with his faithful street dog running beside him, November 2, 1942),
1923 (“Dreaming of the Sea,” a poor little boy with a sad, wistful face and torn shoes, seated before a tub of water with a toy boat, October 20, 1945),
2027 (“Children's Week,” a little boy and his faithful dog looking into a shop window filled with toys of the future, October 18, 1947),
1933 (“Happy New Year,” an elderly veteran of the Second World War, stooped as he carried on his shoulders a baby representing hope; in one hand he held a rifle, and on its stock perched a white dove of peace, December 29, 1945), and
2131 (“Children's Week,” a little shoeshine boy with holes in the soles of his shoes, seated beside his shoeshine box and surrounded by his cleaning tools, October 15, 1949).
These illustrations sometimes used a bright yellow, gold or mustard background that enveloped the entire scene behind the characters, without textures or details to distract the eye.
National commemorations—Independence, the Naval Battle of Iquique and the country's patriotic holidays—found in “Coré” an exceptional visual interpreter. The illustrator adorned El Peneca's covers with portraits and commemorative scenes at a time when Chile itself dressed for celebration. His work brought heroic figures closer to children while also capturing the festive spirit of September 18 and May 21, days on which Chileans proudly celebrated their traditions and history. The following covers are representative examples:
1757 (portrait of “Bernardo O'Higgins,” July 20, 1942),
1762 (portrait of “José Miguel Carrera” against a yellow background, August 24, 1942),
1918 (“Long Live Chile and the Eighteenth,” a group of country people in a Chilean ramada celebrating Independence, September 15, 1945),
1970 (portrait of Chile's First Government Junta, September 18, 1810),
2022 (illustration of a Chilean soldier in dress uniform, marching while firmly holding aloft a flagpole from which the Chilean flag flew in all its grandeur in celebration of the national holidays, against a flat, brilliant sun-yellow background, September 13, 1947), and 2075 (a misspelled sign reading “VIBA CHILE” accompanying a cart full of humble people celebrating Independence Day, September 18, 1948).
The Literary Universe: Fairies, Gnomes and Classic Tales.
As his sister Gabriela Silva Ossa recounted in the interview given for this research, “Coré” was an avid reader who, through his illustrations, encouraged thousands of Chilean children to discover the classics of world literature. His drawings were portals to distant and enchanted worlds, populated by fairies, gnomes, castles and fantastic landscapes that captivated generations of penecas.
He brought to life classics such as Gulliver's Travels, Treasure Island, Robin Hood, Herne the Hunter, Marco Polo, The Magic Flute, Sandokan, The Tsar's Courier, One Thousand and One Nights, Tom Thumb, Robinson Crusoe and The Scarlet Pimpernel, among others.
“Coré” also had the merit of rescuing and elevating numerous anonymous works that the weekly regularly published, giving them an artistic dimension. His work humanized literary texts through characters with vivid expressions and emotionally charged scenes. He raised the artistic standard of children's magazines, inspired future illustrators and created an enduring iconography that now forms part of Chile's graphic heritage.
Some of his most important illustrations included: “The Sandals of Chasqui,” “Sandar Betrayed,” “The Monte Águila School,” “Master Windbreak,” “The Citadel,” “Pamela and Jaime,” “The Enchanted Maiden,” “The Golden Arrow,” “The Rose of the Alhambra,” “Three Falcons,” “He Was a Spy,” “The Giant Prince,” “Wide, Long and Ember Eyes,” “Discovery of America,” “Fortieth Anniversary of ‘EL PENECA,’” “The Magic Drum,” “The Mandarin and the Fisherman,” “George the Devil,” “Durga-Rani, Queen of the Jungle,” “The Magic Pot,” “The Golden Ball,” “Loriol the Coward,” “Brave Heart,” “The Fairy of Arithmetic,” and “The Little Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe.” His work is regarded as a national landmark and belongs within the field of research on children's and young adult literature.
As the American industry pursued initiatives that were transforming comics and illustrated storytelling, it recognized the genius of this Chilean artist and invited him to join the U.S. market. He nevertheless chose to keep his work in Chile, a decision that, while limiting his international reach, guaranteed him the creative freedom to explore many forms of artistic expression.
Mario Silva Ossa's sudden death in 1950, at the age of thirty-seven, left a creative void at the heart of El Peneca and Chilean art.
With profound sorrow, El Peneca bade farewell to one of its most luminous talents. Through the words of Elvira Santa Cruz, it paid tribute to an artist whose life, though brief, left an indelible mark. Death found him at the height of his genius, robbing him of years of creation but not of the enduring brilliance of his work. El Peneca and its readers treasured the light of those blue eyes that had once illuminated its pages:
“He came to EL PENECA at the age of eighteen. Youth was dawning in him with all the yearnings of a brilliant artist: tall, slender, with blue eyes so luminous and bright that one had to look away because their light burned like sunlight, infecting us with his restlessness like a fever of the spirit.
‘Is it true that children liked my hands?’ he would ask. ‘I am always dissatisfied with my work. I would like to achieve something better—that thing stirring in my mind, that thing I have inside.’ ... Retaining his preference for the medieval and the fantastic, he had reached the fullness of his genius. Death overtook him at thirty-seven, when a glorious future awaited both the artist and the man.”
EL PENECA, no. 2162, May 23, 1950.
On May 30, 1950, in issue no. 2163, Odilia Navarro, “Ketmis,” portrayed Mario Silva Ossa under the title “It Is Difficult to Describe Mario”:
“It is difficult to describe Mario. No word can reflect his immense spirit, nor any line capture his restless physical presence. He was accustomed to pacing nervously, speaking while his hands changed gesture with the movement of his ideas, fixing his gaze in a friend's eyes to share a problem, a longing or an emotion. He shared his confidence in life, in happiness and in beauty. We never saw Coré motionless. His drawings are not motionless either. Every cover of his breathes with life. His goblins leap, his sorceresses sweep across the pages, his queens smile, his kings speak, his vagabonds trot, his princesses sigh.”
EL PENECA, no. 2163, May 30, 1950.
In issue no. 2188 of November 18, 1950, for the thirtieth anniversary, Elvira Santa Cruz opened the pages of El Peneca so that its contributors—Ketmis, Atria, Elena Poirier, Olga Villalón—and its penecas could bid farewell to “Coré” with pencil and pen:
“The Stone Angel
Roxane was tireless. Everyone gladly agreed, and they looked equally tireless, as was the little group supporting her: Ketmis, Atria, Lungenstras, Elena Poirier, Olga Villalón, Coré. One day Coré, who was the favorite photographer of dream beings, laid down his enchanted pencil and said to his friends and to all the children:
—I am leaving.
—No!—they all cried.—It cannot be...
—Yes. Someone is waiting for me. It was time. The interlaced little hands that tried to hold him back could do nothing. Coré slipped skillfully away and flew very high. When the little angel learned of this, he left the altar of Saint George for the second time and, joining Mario, accompanied him on the journey from which there is no return. Everyone was overjoyed to relive their... The Supreme Maker, high above, smiled.
For every birthday of this beloved magazine, we learn in a different way how it was born.”
EL PENECA, no. 2188, November 18, 1950.
It was a fabled version of his death, narrated as though the storybook character rose into the air, taking with him the little angel who left the altar of Saint George for the second time to join Mario on a journey from which there was no return. Death could take “Coré” physically, but it could never tear him from the magical universe he had created.
Ernesto Baeza Palacios's letter testified to the affection felt for Coré. In it he affirmed that as long as there was a child who believed in fantasy, Mario Silva Ossa would remain alive in memory.
Chilean poet, writer and literary critic Enrique Lihn described “Coré's” drawings in an article published in the magazine La Castaña in the winter of 1986, arguing that the artist did not belong to the kitsch tradition because his aesthetic always remained coherent with the style of El Peneca:
“‘The Journalists' Circle,’ of which the deceased was a member, regarded him as one of its own in his capacity as journalist and illustrator—something that should be understood as a condensation of the two: an illustrator of journalism or a journalist of drawing.
His drawings are remembered as though they were texts, and he as an autonomous narrator—a narrator-character, a first person, or, if one prefers, a style.
Mario Silva Ossa's drawings partake of a certain cleanliness, yet appear genuinely innocent and for that very reason do not belong to the Kitsch order of syrupy, merely edifying prints. I do not wish to insist on the point, but neither do I wish to overlook the ‘modernism’—particularly, if it may be called that, Coré's ‘Art Nouveau’—of which he produced, I do not know how consciously, a version adapted to the purposes and limitations of the medium in which, week after week, he gave the best of himself.
From the standpoint of execution, Coré is a mannerist who does not, of course, carry his ornamental devices to the fascinating excesses reached by C. Ricketts or the Housmans; but in a comparable way, in another world and for another public, he distinguishes Illustration from the literal transcription of writing and makes it a self-sufficient art precisely to the extent that he subordinates it to the written page.”
In Mundo magazine he was described as a touchstone precisely because he maintained a timeless style. His stature rested on that ability to turn limitations into virtues, creating worlds in which fantasy—even at its wildest—always remained habitable:
“His drawings, executed with the scrupulous care of a craftsman who worked with methods of mechanical reproduction less sophisticated than those of today, were given a personal poetic style, clothed in a certain innocence that creates a reassuring world, even when it is visited by corsairs, dragons or witches.”
In October 1990, Gabriela Silva Ossa, the illustrator's sister, spoke for this research about her brother. Her unique and moving words deserve to be reproduced in full:
“My brother Mario was born on March 9, 1913. He began drawing as a child. He was educated at Colegio San Ignacio and entered architecture school, where he studied through the second year. It was then that Elvira Santa Cruz Ossa, our aunt, proposed that he take charge of the drawings that would accompany the stories in El Peneca. Since he needed a pseudonym, he remembered a biblical name that perhaps, for him, fit all his aspirations, which is why he called himself ‘Coré.’
From then on, my brother devoted himself to the profession of illustrator. His principal body of work is therefore El Peneca. Proof of this is his refusal of Walt Disney's offer to join the company's team. Mario was a creator and would hardly have been willing”—his sister insists—“to submit to Walt Disney's line. In addition, his attachment to his homeland was immense, and his love for Chilean children influenced his decision to remain in Chile. My brother was an extraordinarily cultured man and an avid reader of the classics. On many occasions I read selected authors aloud to him while he created his characters. Go to Macul Street; there is a restaurant-café there with furniture carved by my brother.
Mario died on March 13, 1950, struck by a train—or so I believe—but the true cause of his death remains a mystery to this day. On March 13, after having worked all night on his drawings, he said he wanted to get some fresh air. He left the house for a walk and never returned. My brother's doctor recalled that, after a stroke he had suffered years earlier, he had been told he might lose the use of his right hand, which would have meant giving up drawing forever. To this day I remember him, and I suffer over his inexplicable disappearance.”
In 2006, photographer Juan Domingo Marinello made a chance discovery at the Valparaíso flea market: a group of original illustrations by Mario Silva Ossa. The material gave rise to the book Coré, which reaffirmed his place as “perhaps the greatest illustrator the Chilean publishing industry has produced.”
In Coré, el tesoro que creímos perdido (Coré, the Treasure We Thought Lost, 2012), Jorge Montealegre undertook a biographical reconstruction of Mario Silva Ossa (“Coré”), grounded in rigorous research into both his personal and professional life. The edition included, as a valuable contribution, magnificent reproductions of the artist's work.
An Illustrator Who Transcended the History of Illustration.
1. The first great transformation introduced under Elvira Santa Cruz's direction—and embodied by “Coré” as no one else did—was the shift from anonymity to recognized authorship. During the early years, many illustrators and photographers remained in the shadows. Their names did not appear; their faces were unknown. “Roxane” reversed this logic: she hired the best and established them as public figures.
“Coré” was the principal beneficiary of this policy. His name became a brand. A cover signed by him was a weekly event. He professionalized the illustrator's craft, elevating it from artisanal work to creative authorship.
2. The paradox of “Coré's” social gaze. One of the most moving aspects of his work was his portrayal of marginalized childhood: the canillitas, the shoeshine boys, the poor children who sold newspapers in the streets. At first glance, these drawings might seem an act of social denunciation, or at least an attempt to make those children visible. “Coré” drew them with dignity, idealizing them within the boundaries of the patriotic narrative promoted by El Peneca. The little newspaper seller was a silent hero contributing to the national effort. His rags did not denounce structural inequality; they demonstrated that, even in poverty, a Chilean could be honest, hardworking and patriotic. Social criticism was thus absorbed into an edifying moral lesson.
3. The mystery of his death as symbol. His death at thirty-seven, struck by a train in circumstances that were never clarified, has become a symbol of the fate of the golden age. Like the Zig-Zag archives burned in 1973, like the anonymous photographers whose names were lost, like the original drawings scattered through flea markets, “Coré's” disappearance condensed a loss that was never fully processed.
His sister Gabriela's testimony, the Disney offer, the stroke that placed his right hand at risk, the walk from which he never returned: all these episodes added layers of meaning that go beyond biography. Mario Silva Ossa did not simply die young; he died at the exact moment when his genius had reached its highest point, when the American industry was beginning to recognize him. Death cut his work short, but his legacy endures in collective memory, even though most of his originals have been lost.
4. The legacy: a Chilean iconography. “Coré” succeeded in building a recognizable visual universe that readers identified as their own. His fairies, gnomes and medieval castles were not copies from European manuals: they possessed an unmistakable style, shaped by sinuous curves, flat mustard-colored backgrounds and a mixture of delicacy and force that remains moving today.
That iconography defined the visual imagination of three generations of Chileans. When the interviewees in Chapter 3 remembered “Coré's drawings,” they were not recalling isolated pictures alone, but a way of seeing the world learned in childhood and never forgotten. Coré is not merely an illustrator; his name resonates in the memory of Chileans of every age, even among those who no longer remember exactly where it came from.
Elvira Santa Cruz expanded the contribution sections, drawing more readers into the editorial process, including both young illustrators and new writers. On February 21, 1921 (issue no. 640), a letter appeared in the “Contributions” section signed with the initials J.M.O. In it, the author examined the transformation El Peneca had undergone in thirteen years, emphasized the value of its contributors, and underscored the significance of the editorship being occupied, for the first time, by a woman:
“CONTRIBUTION
LETTER
Each year two or three novices enter the ranks and just as many desert, confident in their pens and feeling capable of wielding them in more important newspapers. And that is why I say that changes of guardian suit the character of our magazine better. Many times we miss a signature in some literary periodical, and it is Roxane's: she is always wherever there is refined intellectual life, wherever there is art, and also wherever there is activity, a tendency toward progress and social improvement. The children's weekly is therefore guided by one of the country's foremost intellectual women....”
In issue no. 675 (October 24, 1921), one of the contributors, writing under the pseudonym “Annanke,” explained how El Peneca was edited and produced, with the aim of familiarizing readers with the workings of the Zig-Zag printing shop:
“HOW EL PENECA IS MADE
Once the originals have been read and corrected, the suitable ones are set aside for the issue being prepared and sent to the foreman of the hand-composition and Linotype section. The foreman distributes the titles to the former and the body composition to the latter. Once the articles have been composed in type metal containing antimony, the proof-puller takes them, pulls one or several proofs and sends them to correction, where two good people, well versed in grammar, correct errors and punctuation introduced by the Linotype operator, compositor or author.”
In her youth “Roxane” had been a reader of El Mercurio, where she published her first contributions:
“TO MY KIND CONTRIBUTORS
It was in La Serena, in 1912, that for the first time I saw my work in print...! What an intense emotion!... A few days earlier I had sent El Mercurio of Valparaíso a long report on the Navy Squadron's stay in Coquimbo... Dances, festivities and excursions had enlivened society in La Serena and Coquimbo, and the sailors who wintered there left us with the most delightful memories.
A week passed, and I lost all hope that the newspaper would publish my contribution... An anxiety mingled with sadness and discouragement took possession of my soul... Was I too destined for the editors' dreaded wastebasket?
On the front page, in large type across four columns, I read:
‘A Charmingly Feminine Letter’
... ‘A New Writer Makes Her Debut,’ etc., etc.!
My article occupied almost the entire front page.”
ROXANE.
EL PENECA, no. 817, July 14, 1924.
The text “Our Editor,” written under the pseudonym “Gipsophilia,” is important for understanding an editorial transition toward the end of 1921. Through a dialogue between two former contributors, it mentioned that Benjamín Oviedo, “Magister,” had apparently stopped working for the weekly, although his contributions continued to appear for a time. Stories, versions and translations of tales by him could still be read until the middle of that year; one example was Magister's version of “The Dancing Shoes” in issue no. 659 (July 4, 1921):
“OUR EDITOR
An Interesting Dialogue Between Two Former Contributors to EL PENECA
—Well, does it not seem sad to you that, after spending seven years fluttering through the pages of a magazine under the guardianship of an editor who, for amateurs like us, has been the best teacher and friend, we must say goodbye to him?...
—Quite right! Besides, nothing could be more moral or more trustworthy for young people than to place feelings born in the soul in the hands of a priest as wise, prudent and kind as Omer Emeth. Miss Elvira Santa Cruz will, I imagine, be a very good editor—that much is obvious—and for the dreamy youngsters, well! She will be the promised mother, perhaps even an indulgent one... But... how sad it is to have to say goodbye to the one who is leaving...!
—And Magister and Compositor Ypsilon, will they leave too?
—Perhaps; it is not yet known... and I assure you it would be another sorrow, because it would be impossible to forget that they too were good friends and generous supporters of our artistic ambitions.”
EL PENECA, no. 652, May 16, 1921.
A peneca who signed with the pseudonym “Florisel,” and belonged to the contributors' group, welcomed a new reader joining their circle:
“FEDO
It has not yet been a year since we began counting this young poet among the good contributors to our magazine, yet his valuable work already has sincere and enthusiastic admirers.
His very extensive literary output cannot be judged solely by what has appeared here, because, given the thoroughly child-oriented nature of our weekly, we have published only simple verses suited to children's souls.
His warm, vigorous pen, which at times vibrates with the nerve of manly indignation at the injustices of Life, becomes caressing, tender and sweetly emotional when he speaks to us of his affections, of the idols of his heart that he jealously guards from profane eyes.
I do not know him personally, but someone gave me prose and verses of his to read, and through them I came to understand this generous, loyal young man, who seeks neither applause nor the tinsel of popularity, because there is no glory comparable to being understood by a kindred soul—and that unique glory, Fedor possesses.
May our enthusiastic and sincere affection reach him, along with the joy with which we received the news of his appointment as Honorary Director of our small group.”
FLORISEL
EL PENECA, no. 818, July 21, 1924.
The magazine continued to reaffirm important values for children, publishing work that represented the essence of being an authentic person rather than merely cultivating appearances:
“CONTRIBUTION
Think, dear little readers, that one day you may be wearing a patched dress or suit while your classmate wears something brand-new. And since you will be neither better nor worse because of your patch, you would not like people to laugh at you or look down on you for that reason alone.
Remember that if they put you in a king's uniform or a queen's gown, dress you in a Cardinal's habit or place the sash of a President of the Republic across your chest, you will not suddenly become a king, queen, President or Cardinal. You will remain what you are.
Unless, of course, you put on the uniform, gown, habit or sash precisely to pretend you are something you are not.
In that case, you will be an impostor.
Finally, dear reader of EL PENECA, reflect on the exceedingly important point contained in the theme of these two anecdotes, for it concerns your future and your eternal happiness.”
MAPOCHO
EL PENECA, no. 794, February 4, 1924.
Writers and illustrators such as Villalón, Navarro “Ketmis,” Poirier and “Coré” found in these pages an ideal place to develop their styles, while writers such as Nicomedes Guzmán, under the pseudonym “Ovaguz,” published poems, stories and chronicles before becoming famous. In the “Sports” section, Guzmán combined journalism and illustration: he wrote profiles of Chilean athletes and drew their portraits himself, fusing word and image:
“SPORTS SECTION
Our Athletic Delegation at the Los Angeles Olympics
Vicente Salinas, our decorated champion, will indeed travel to Los Angeles (U.S.A.) to prepare for participation in the Olympic Games to be held in that city in July of this year.
His outstanding performances on the track in recent times have placed him among the finest South American sprinters, quite apart from the fact that he is already a two-time continental champion in the 400 meters, with the splendid time of 49 seconds.”
OVAGUZ
EL PENECA, no. 1211, February 1, 1932.
“Un Rasgo” (“A Gesture”) was an early work by Nicomedes Guzmán (“Ovaguz”), written when the author was barely nineteen. Published in issue no. 1231 of December 5, 1932, the story showed his immersion in the criollista current of the period, with a vivid record of popular speech—dialect forms such as “güaina,” “taita” and “jué”—and rural Chilean customs of the twentieth century. The story was illustrated by Fidelicio Atria.
On the occasion of the fourteenth anniversary, the editorial staff addressed a message to contributors and readers recognizing the legacy of those who had shaped the weekly. It promised to guide them with the patience of one who knew that a mother's timely caress could overcome even the strongest character:
“EL PENECA
Today this Chilean children's magazine turns fourteen...
EL PENECA is now a handsome, proud adolescent awakening from childhood's dream adorned with all the graces of the spirit, educated and tempered by the intelligent, solicitous hands of its editors. The eminent writer Mr. Blanchard-Chessi gave it life; it then passed into the hands of Omer Emeth, the intelligent and kindly priest who entrusted it, like a sacred deposit, to the care of a woman—perhaps because children, as they grow and feel themselves filled with vigor and a will of their own, bow more readily before a mother's affection, which disarms their outbursts and whims with tenderness and caresses, than before the severe and rigid authority of a man.
And so it was that on February 7, 1921 this haughty, capricious, demanding and imperious youngster called EL PENECA came into my hands—or rather, into my arms.
At first he received his new editor with distrust; there were protests, some discreet, others angry. Roxane saw in them no personal offense; rather, she learned to know that grateful soul—the beloved counselor, the children's friend, the woman who gave them all her affection and made them the object of all her care. A profound rejoicing then spread through every child's heart, and from that time onward they beat together with the heart of the new editor, who always receives them with attention and affection.
In my work I have found intelligent contributors and exquisite souls such as Incógnita and Malvaloca, whom—with the pardon of my other children—I hold very close to my heart; Fernando Milto, Dante Smile, Celeste Imperio, Perlita, Cricri, Gabriela Huick, Kukufate, Viola, Luciérnaga, Colombina X, and so many others who have also been my good friends and who have contributed most effectively to the growth of the magazine. I also have magnificent illustrators such as Alvial, Oscar Valdés, Marcolfa, Ricardo Lorca, and others, for whom I foresee a great future in the field of art.”
EL PENECA, no. 679, November 21, 1921.
Alongside this account, a portrait showed “Roxane” reviewing and answering the penecas' correspondence. The publication included photographs of Perlita, “Malvaloca,” Sonia, Clara Zanolleti, Pedro Creisell, Pavino, M. Teresa Sepúlveda, Segundo Jelves, Carlos Carrasco Armijo, Itello, Ernestina Severin, Crehington Hale, Isabel Ayala, Matilde Embry L., Alejandro Mario Fulle, Kady, León Prieto Casanova, Fernando Sanhueza, Gloria Valdez Aldunate and “Rey de la Pradera.”
Perlita, one of the most faithful contributors of the period, published an article in issue no. 649 (April 25, 1921) titled “Perlita Talks with Roxane.” She visited the editor's home, then located on Calle Dieciocho in Santiago. Santa Cruz answered her questions, announcing the introduction of new subjects and contributors:
“PERLITA TALKS WITH ROXANE
—Could you tell me about some of your plans for making our magazine greater?
—Beginning May 2 we shall increase the number of pages. This is a major concession by the Company, because, as you know, Perlita, with the economic crisis we are going through, the fall in the exchange rate and the rise in wages, it is extremely costly to publish a magazine at twenty centavos. We shall therefore have twenty pages. The cover will carry an illustration from the story included in the corresponding issue; on the second page I shall open a section of Chats and Poetry, where selected contributions of a sentimental and poetic nature will be published; after that will come Children's Life, which practically makes itself, because so much correspondence reaches that section...”
The creation of “Literary Clubs” was encouraged to cultivate artistic abilities and inclinations among readers. One member described the purpose in these terms:
“The president, in eloquent words, broadly outlined the program that will guide the institution: to seek the literary improvement of its members, giving special importance to everything that represents progress in this sphere, such as a theatrical section, lectures, literary competitions, poetry, a library section and criticism.
As for the latter, at the suggestion of the president and secretary, and thus partly discharging our debt of gratitude to our Editor for the endless care imposed on her by the overwhelming work she has undertaken—since she wastes precious time classifying the originality of submissions, reading compositions unsuited to the nature of the magazine, and so forth—it was agreed that this work would be handled by a special committee. Several names were proposed for that purpose: Incógnita, Mario Fulle, Gabriela Huick, Celeste Imperio and Fernando Mirto.”
EL PENECA, no. 705, May 22, 1922.
Life was presented as a challenge that demanded authenticity:
“While from the heavens
Phoebus—the Sun God—casts his final rays,
in the water, among the stems,
the frog sends up its song.
And already in the blue a star
begins to beat; and as I gaze upon it,
I see in it the key to the future.”
EL PENECA, no. 760, June 11, 1923.
“I like this crown because I regard EL PENECA as the king of magazines. Everyone reads it: children, young people, the elderly, rich and poor; its pages contain wholesome and entertaining reading, the fruit of its young contributors' intelligence. Our beloved editor has offered us its pages, where we can bring our ideals to life.”
EL PENECA, no. 784, November 26, 1923.
The spirit of this new stage was reflected in the magazine's pages, where readers' voices responded favorably to social change. An emblematic example was the publication in 1925 of an Argentine reader's candid impressions of President Arturo Alessandri Palma:
“As you know, my habits are thoroughly democratic, and only because this was such an exceptional occasion did I put on this suit—which, truth be told, I bought in Buenos Aires when President Alessandri passed through there.
To go to Chile on this occasion, perhaps the only one of my life, just as the Chilean people were preparing to pay homage to His Excellency Mr. Alessandri—the apotheosis I witnessed in Santiago demonstrated how deeply rooted is the affection that all Chileans feel for their great president.”
EL PENECA, no. 859, May 4, 1925.
The “Our Contributors” section strengthened communication among readers and encouraged friendships. One example was a conversation between “Nelly Blytte” and “Nella D'Amore”:
“OUR CONTRIBUTORS
WITH NELLY BLYTTE
—Which section of El Peneca do you like best?
—It may not be to your taste, Nella, but the section that teaches me the most is Correspondence.
—Correspondence?
—Naturally. There I see who greets and congratulates whom. That way I study people's ability to appreciate the work, character and moral worth of each person being congratulated. For example, there is a certain colleague around here whom I know only through correspondence, because I have never seen a piece signed by him, yet that is no obstacle to his frequently sending congratulations to this person or that.
—And among your already published works, which do you like best?
—The one you do not like: Pelusita, followed by Flor de Zapallo.”
EL PENECA, no. 894, January 4, 1926.
On February 28, 1921 (issue no. 641), the magazine published a one-page story titled “El Negrito,” portraying a hungry, dark-skinned boy who came to a house asking for bread. The family, who nicknamed him “Negrito” because of his skin color, eventually took pity on him; he began visiting them regularly and was ultimately welcomed into their home:
“EL NEGRITO
Juanito is a great little personage of five. His round face, always animated by his charming smile, is irresistibly attractive. His complexion is dark, so dark that he seems to me like a little piece of coal, exquisitely sculpted, for his features are regular and his eyes... Ah! Juanito's eyes are undoubtedly the finest thing in his face. Merry and talkative, they always seem to laugh, although more than once I have caught tears in them.”
“The Little Miner,” published in issue no. 895 (January 11, 1926), revealed a passage from the harsh life of a young boy who had worked in mining since the age of eleven. The author, writing under the pseudonym “Reynold,” portrayed a humble boy nicknamed “Black Bread,” an allusion to the coal he extracted. At the center of the story was the boy's first great disillusionment, when he was let down by an older miner described as a “burly roto”:
“They Called Him ‘Black Bread’
THE LITTLE MINER
Miguel felt the punch like a bucket of cold water dousing his enthusiasm, his frenzied admiration for the burly roto—for the man he had considered so good, incapable of striking anyone unjustly and always ready to defend the weak.
It cut deeply to see such a firmly rooted illusion brutally vanish; but the reaction came quickly: his admiration suddenly turned into a little fear mixed with a great deal of contempt.
It was the first painful disillusionment Black Bread had ever suffered.”
The contributor “Enano Azul” faithfully recreated the conventions of the fairy tale. In his story, a young prince is destined to marry an abandoned infant princess, referred to colloquially in the story as a “guagua”—the Chilean word for baby. When the girl reaches marriageable age, she overcomes with astonishing ease the three trials imposed by a mysterious old man, the same man who had helped the prince after he became lost on an unfamiliar road:
“THE THREE TRIALS
Many years ago there was a queen who had a very spoiled son named Gerardo.
One day the prince decided to go hunting; but because he did not know the road well, he became lost. Night came, and he encountered an old man from whom he asked lodging.
—I have none, the old man replied, but there is a little shed over there.
They went there to spend the night. The prince noticed that the old man went out many times and asked him why. The old man answered:
—The guagua who is about to arrive will have to overcome three trials, and she will marry a prince...”
ENANO AZUL
EL PENECA, no. 1470, February 15, 1937.
In 1923, the story “Angélica,” set amid the dramatic aftermath of an earthquake and fire, highlighted a survival instinct that reached even beyond death:
“A charitable lady then approached the dying woman and tried to question her; but the poor young woman half-opened her dim eyes and could only stammer one name: ‘Angélica.’ As, in the agony of death, she convulsively pressed the little girl in her arms, her lips continued murmuring again and again: ‘Angélica... Angélica.’
...And the child's innocent smile in the midst of so horrifying a scene moved the lady so deeply that, dissolved in tears, she called to a gentleman standing nearby and said pleadingly: ‘Pedro, would you like us to adopt her, in memory of the one we lost?’”
EL PENECA, no. 737, January 1, 1923.
For the twenty-fourth anniversary, new contributors participated and the magazine paid tribute to a new generation of young writers, who appeared in portraits under their names or pseudonyms: “Mariposa de las Alas de Oro,” C. H. von Criz, “Lautaro,” “Athos,” “Li Ho Chang,” Sergio Sereno, Toñito Moreno, Mario Rojas, Nelly Stuelzel, Rhoda, Daniel Ortiz P., Luney, “Eloy,” Ruddy Juano, Silvia Silvestre, Florencio Zorrilla, Karl, Alexander Blackett, “Diamond” and “Almendrita.”
“Gallery of El Peneca Contributors
Anniversary
Twenty-four years!
Words are powerless to present in a single instant all that so much time contains.
Far away now is the date on which the first issue of El Peneca appeared. That event, small then, is no longer merely great today: it is immense.
Many events have shaken life and convulsed spirits since then.
At times misfortune has fallen upon those who helped shape the Magazine. There is no need to name them. Some have set out on the journey that can only be made with one's eyes closed; but we know well that a tender and affectionate remembrance remains for them.
The smile, which belongs to angels and children, heals wounds, brings joy and delights those who are coming, those who will come...
And that is because El Peneca understands its motto—its reason for being!
Eyes widened, cries of astonishment were heard, and people believed the Magazine would disappear when ‘Roxane’ received it. It was not an encouraging gift.
The Miracle.
Affection!
One word—and here are all the years El Peneca has walked beside Roxane.
Someone once asked her what she put into it to bring a magazine already drained of strength back to life. She answered:
—Affection!
That word is the little magic wand that works wherever it goes, and therein lies the secret of its present greatness—a greatness that the future will not abandon as long as it continues to receive what its Editor gives it:
Affection!”
LAUTARO
EL PENECA, no. 1201, November 21 (23), 1931.
El Peneca was distributed in other countries of Latin America—Mexico, Venezuela, Peru, Bolivia, Costa Rica, Brazil, Panama, Cuba, Ecuador, Guatemala, Honduras, Uruguay—and in Spain, prompting the magazine to call on contributors to improve the quality of their work, since Chilean children were expected to set an example for Spanish-American youth:
“Contributors must take greater care with their work, and illustrators must strive to reveal their artistic gifts in a contest that will awaken a noble and patriotic spirit...
...we prefer anecdotal subjects, moral chats, anniversaries and commemorations of glorious events, and so forth.”
EL PENECA, no. 1288, July 24, 1933.
The magazine selected the best contributions from foreign readers:
“YOUTHFUL POEMS
TO A GRANDMOTHER
How dearly I love you, Grandma, with all my heart!
And in His infinite goodness, I know that God our Lord
will grant you many more years of greater happiness,
for I always pray to HIM for you, with the deepest devotion.”
France
EL PENECA, no. 2014, July 19, 1947.
“YOUTHFUL POEMS
THE SKY IN MY EYES
There is a sky in my eyes
and much light in my soul,
and my restless heart
sings with joy.
Much sky in my life,
in my simple life,
while in my eyes
morning dances.”
Francisco Abalo
Buenos Aires
EL PENECA, no. 2053, April 17, 1948.
“YOUTHFUL POEMS
THEY ASK ME FOR A VERSE
They ask me for a verse that sings of children,
Joyful and vibrant... vibrant... vibrant...
They ask me for a verse like tender caresses
from a mother's hands, radiant with beauty...
They ask me for a verse with the rhythm of voices
that sing, that shout, that laugh... that laugh...
Like golden carriages speeding past,
bearing fairies who smile with delight.”
Jorge Béjar Rivera (Lima, Peru)
EL PENECA, no. 2080, October 23, 1948.
Elvira Santa Cruz's editorship elevated her within the magazine's own pages to the status of an icon. Contributors and readers themselves nourished this image through numerous tributes published over more than two decades. Written on anniversaries, these texts constructed an affectionate, almost sacred representation of the editor as a “spiritual little mother,” “angelic guide,” or “mother who loves and corrects.”
In 1923, an anonymous author described how this female figure appeared precisely when El Peneca, “the pampered child,” was reaching adolescence with all its hesitations and discouragements. Elvira Santa Cruz was “the fairy-tale godmother.” In 1926, a contributor wrote: “they see you walking along the flower-strewn path of success, guided by the master hand of ROXANE, our spiritual little mother.” In 1929, a tribute declared that “the tireless work of our good ROXANE” gave it “the breath of life.”
The contributor Arturo Domingo, writing in 1931, recalled his own childhood: at twelve he had read El Peneca with friends in the family orchard, and by 1931 he declared: “And you have grown... warmed by the exquisite virtues lovingly lavished upon you by the woman who today is your wise guide.”
In 1934, a contributor called her an “angelic guide: spiritual mother of art and life” and assured her: “you are the angel who guides us along the path of art and knowledge.” Finally, in 1948, a writer from southern Chile sent her a greeting in verse: “Dear and good ROXANE, / affectionate spiritual mother”:
“Tribute,
But the pampered child grew, and became increasingly difficult, reaching the threshold of adolescence with all the hesitations of that age, its great longings and inexplicable discouragements. It was then that the fairy-tale godmother appeared beside him, the woman who would understand the spoiled youngster and offer him the loving refuge of a mother's lap. An exquisitely feminine and generous soul, ROXANE won the adolescent heart through nothing more than the sweetness and firmness of a mother who loves and therefore corrects.”
EL PENECA, no. 784, November 26, 1923.
“TO EL PENECA ON ITS ANNIVERSARY
Oh, good Peneca! You are a beautiful and affectionate beacon of light, shining with radiant flashes upon truth, the path of knowledge. With your pages of pleasant reading, your amusing stories, your thrilling serials, you are the delight of all your contributors, who admire you and love you with immense affection, for they see you walking along the flower-strewn path of success, guided by the master hand of ROXANE, our spiritual little mother.”
EL PENECA, no. 940, November 22, 1926.
“!!!!TRIBUTE!!!!
The encouragement of the first contributors tastes like a caressing breeze. The striving of our noble writers, like a plow, turns the soil in which you bloom and renews it; and the love, the tireless work of our good ROXANE, is what gives you the breath of life that makes you greater.”
EL PENECA, no. 1097, November 25, 1929.
“GRATITUDE
How proud and handsome you seem to me now, my dearest Peneca!
With what success and good fortune you complete, on this great day, twenty-four prosperous and magnificent years of existence!
Twenty-four years!
It seems like an enchanted dream!
I had seen twelve summers when I first knew you.
How well I remember it!
On peaceful evenings several friends would gather in the orchard of my home to read you with intimate affection and be carried in our minds to the kingdoms of your magical legends. Today, as in that distant yesterday, you preserve intact the kind and generous spirit given you by your noble founders, who, with true foresight, pointed out the luminous path of thought you were to follow, without making an enemy of Time, which transforms all frail matter, and always winning the love of children, because it was for them that you were born.
And you have grown intelligent and optimistic, warmed by the exquisite virtues lovingly lavished upon you by the woman who today is your wise guide: ‘Roxane.’”
ARTURO DOMINGO
EL PENECA, no. 1201, November 23, 1931.
“TO ROXANE
Angelic guide, spiritual mother of art and life, crystalline are your gentle counsels; crystalline as the silver glow of the moon, as soft as the silken plumage of birds.
Hail, divine teacher! From your white hands shall bloom roses pure as summer; your innocent affection, your human feeling, have captivated my soul and inspired what is mine.
The beautiful and exotic things in my dreaming soul go in search of beauty's measured rhythm, rocking with the stars and icy gusts, thirsting for wild deliriums that cloud my head.
Little mother: my clumsy song and anguished rebec cannot show you the love of my shadowed soul; perhaps someday the infinite gaze of your dreaming eyes will illuminate my life.
ROXANE, you are the angel who guides us along the path of art and knowledge; your sweet and wise words each day urge us to reach the ideal, which is our desire.”
EL PENECA, no. 1358, November 26, 1934.
“TO ROXANE
From this southern land
I greet Mother ROXANE,
who with her smiling face
gives all her children
dreams and joys.
For dear ROXANE I wish,
from this land, infinite happiness
and a long and joyful life.
May my friendly greeting
reach your compassionate soul.
Dear and good ROXANE,
affectionate spiritual mother.”
EL PENECA, no. 2084, November 20, 1948.
The frequency of literary contributions strengthened this intense relationship between the editor and her contributors. “Roxane” acted as a model for children. She stimulated and encouraged children's creativity by working in many genres herself: narrative, literary criticism, historical tales and, above all, chronicles of her travels around the world. She reinvented traditional European literary forms, giving them an educational stamp of her own. The story “The Enchanted Little Bell” was a perfect example of this creative synthesis, combining a medieval imaginary with moral lessons for young readers:
“The Enchanted Little Bell
The castle of the Count of Kerolan rose majestically, defying the fury of the ocean as it battered its granite foundations without damaging them. The Count lived there with his wife Clotilde and their daughter Marfisa, a young girl who had just turned sixteen. The Count's vast estates were tended by vassals who obeyed the most despotic of masters but did not love him. A multitude of lackeys, maidservants, scullions and cooks lived in the castle, all governed with an iron hand. Before the Count only one person dared raise her voice: Marfisa was as haughty, arrogant, selfish and capricious as her father.”
EL PENECA, no. 1318, February 19, 1934.
During her editorship, a dual vocation became firmly established: visionary editor and innovative writer. Her book Flor Silvestre was advertised in the weekly itself:
“CORRESPONDENCE
The fifth edition of Flor Silvestre, by Elvira Santa Cruz (Roxane), has now appeared.
It may be ordered from all bookstores in Chile and from our Editorial Department, P.O. Box 84-D, Santiago.
Throughout all her publications, she has earned the praise of critics and the admiration of her readers. Read it: it is a beautiful novel.”
EL PENECA, no. 2006, May 24, 1947.
The advertisement for the editor's work appeared again and again:
“Read FLOR SILVESTRE, by Elvira Santa Cruz (Roxane). It is the Chilean countryside adorned by the emotion of a romance. Pleasing to mind and feeling alike through the simplicity and freshness of its style.”
In her interpretation of Chilean history and the Spanish conquest, Santa Cruz adopted a dual perspective: on the one hand, she glorified the figure of the conquistador; on the other, she paid tribute to Mapuche resistance. In this way she constructed an epic narrative that sought to reconcile the two poles of the country's foundational history. A passage published in El Peneca in 1938 exemplified this synthesis. Santa Cruz presented the conquest as a prolonged confrontation in which neither side completely submitted to the other. She emphasized Mapuche bravery—“a warlike, noble, hospitable, stubborn, courageous and heroic race”—while also recognizing the worth of the Spanish chronicler Alonso de Ercilla, who “sang our immortal legend.” By joining in a single paragraph the unconquered neck of the Araucanian and the song of the Spanish warrior, she transformed historical conflict into a shared legend. She thus avoided either simple patriotic exaltation or colonial condemnation, proposing instead a national epic based on mutual respect between conqueror and conquered:
“That warlike, noble, hospitable, stubborn, courageous and heroic race has been forged over four centuries together with the indomitable fierceness of ‘Arauco,’ sung by Don Alonso de Ercilla y Zúñiga. Don Alonso de Ercilla, warrior and troubadour, sang our immortal legend, and in singing it he also sang his own race and the feats of the Spaniards, who were never able to bend the Araucanian's neck.”
EL PENECA, no. 1559, October 8, 1938.
Santa Cruz described Christopher Columbus as the “so-called discoverer of America” and sanctified the figure. She presented him as an instrument of Providence chosen to reveal the New World. The passage published in El Peneca in 1942 exemplified this sacralized vision: as “a being chosen by God,” his feat ceased to be an act of exploration and became a divine mission. Santa Cruz emphasized the discoverer's youth—“he was then twenty-five years old”—and stressed that his mind was already shaping “the great deed that brought him glory.” By linking earthly glory with heavenly election, she transformed the 1492 voyage into a story of predestination. Her writing proposed a religious epic in which the discovery of America answered to a higher plan:
“The discoverer of America was then twenty-five years old, a being chosen by God, and his mind was already shaping the great deed that brought him glory.”
EL PENECA, no. 1768, October 10, 1942.
In 1930, Elvira Santa Cruz traveled aboard one of the most advanced ocean liners of the period and sent contributions from the ship to Chilean newspapers and to El Peneca. The floating city-ship, the Belgenland, was an engineering marvel, with innovations such as heated tableware systems and heated swimming pools. Santa Cruz described the departure:
“The ship on which we are traveling is a floating palace. It has five decks with every kind of sporting facility, gymnasiums, heated and cold-water swimming pools, steam baths, beauty institutes, hairdressing salons, and so on. There are lecture halls, libraries, clubs for men and women, bars, luxurious dining rooms, a Japanese-style ballroom... In short, more than a ship, it resembles a luxury hotel.”
EL PENECA, no. 1991, September 14, 1931.
The journey began at the Panama Canal, crossed the Pacific to Honolulu and Yokohama, and continued through Manila, Java, Singapore and China. Elvira Santa Cruz later explored Egypt, Italy and France. She made part of this voyage aboard the same ship as Albert Einstein, recipient of the 1921 Nobel Prize in Physics, to whom she devoted one of her chronicles.
Her series “My Journey Around the World,” published in El Peneca from September 7, 1931 (no. 1190) through 1932, was a milestone. The chronicles were distinguished by headings illustrated by Fidelicio Atria Mardones: children's faces from different continents framed each installment. El Mercurio also published the same series.
In issue no. 1191 of El Peneca, dated September 14, 1931, “Roxane” recounted a truly exceptional moment: meeting the famous German scholar Albert Einstein aboard ship.
Einstein had received the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1921 for his explanation of the photoelectric effect, but by then he was already known throughout the world for the Theory of Relativity, which had revolutionized modern physics.
In the chronicle, “Roxane” introduced the scientist with admiration and respect: “Among them travels the famous German scholar Albert Einstein, author of the theory of the relative nature of time, which modifies Newton's theory of universal gravitation. The scholar spends his life studying in the company of his secretary, and no one interrupts him.”
“Roxane” described places and transformed them. Her chronicles turned real geographies into kingdoms of fantasy, where everyday landscapes acquired the dreamlike texture of fairy tales. Each account combined the wonder of a travel diary with fables, stories and an aesthetic sensibility close to the romantic tales of the nineteenth century.
“MY JOURNEY AROUND THE WORLD
Only when the ship began to pull away from the Valparaíso pier, when little by little the silhouettes faded and the handkerchiefs of those bidding us farewell looked like scraps of confetti scattered by the wind, when the Bay of Valparaíso disappeared and the sea isolated us—only then did I understand what it meant to travel toward distant countries and to be condemned to live for months and months in a floating cage.”
EL PENECA, no. 1190, September 7, 1931.
“XII — THE SACRED MOUNTAIN OF NIKKO
We are now going to visit the city of Nikko, situated ninety miles north of Tokyo.
Leaning against the train window, I eagerly contemplate the Japanese countryside. As we move away from the capital, the panorama changes: the rice paddies and vegetable plots become more extensive. There is also room for mulberry trees bordering the square ponds where rice is cultivated. Country women do not wear flowered kimonos, nor are their hairstyles artistic monuments. We see them dressed in blue or black wool with white kerchiefs on their heads forming small caps. The clothing of the men and women who work the rice fields is also very distinctive. With bare legs in the mud of the paddies, they cover their backs with capes of half-braided rice fiber and their heads with pointed hats made of rice straw. This exotic clothing seems almost to merge them with the earth they cultivate.”
EL PENECA, no. 1201, November 23, 1931.
“Singapore, the Gibraltar of the East
Singapore lies halfway between India and China; it receives the waters of the South China Sea and the Indian Ocean. Looking at the map, one sees a long, narrow appendage hanging from Indochina and forming the Malay Peninsula; at the tip of that appendage is the island of Singapore, joined by a long bridge to the State of Johore.”
El Mercurio newspaper, Santiago, Chile, December 29, 1931.
“It is said that the shogun Iyematsu, grandson of the first shogun Iyeyasu, known as the Pericles of Japan, levied formidable taxes for the construction of Nikko's temples, and that a daimyo (feudal lord), having no ready money, sent millions of cryptomeria trees to be planted along the road to the sacred mountain. By this marvelous avenue we reach the Daiya torrent, the natural stream of that dwelling place of demigods.”
EL PENECA, no. 1201, November 23, 1931.
“Departure from Pei-Pung
—Roxane, they have knocked on the door three times—Mlle. Doudet, my roommate, tells me.—It sounds as though there is a revolution outside. Dawn has not even broken, and it cannot be time to leave.
Indeed, we hear shouts and running footsteps, and the Chinese knock again at every door and speak in that language unintelligible to us, a mixture of English and Chinese known as PIDGIN.
Annoyed, I get out of bed, venture to open the door a crack, and am almost knocked backward by two Chinese men who enter carrying breakfast trays.
—Getty api, getty api—the Chinese stewards say.
—What's happening?—we ask.—Are the Boxers back again?
—Me no sabe... Getty api.
At last the French guide reaches us and explains that they have received a cable from the Belgenland saying we must leave immediately because Siberian winds are once again bringing great blocks of ice into the Yellow Sea and the ship has had to withdraw farther offshore.”
EL PENECA, no. 1211, February 1, 1932.
Issue no. 1218 of El Peneca, dated March 21, 1932, contained a singular chronicle: her encounter with Pablo Neruda in Java. Roxane, by then an influential woman in the Chilean press, traveled with the authority conferred by decades of work and her position within Chile's social elite. Neruda, twenty-eight, was consul in Batavia. The report offered Chilean children a window onto the world, showing them that a compatriot could be found in the most distant places, and bearing witness to Neruda's years in the East, a crucial stage in his development as a poet, before he had achieved the worldwide fame that would culminate in the Nobel Prize in 1971.
It included a photograph of Neruda with his wife, “Maruca” de Reyes (María Antonieta Hagenaar Vogelzang). In Chile, Maruca was “the Dutchwoman” who had captured the poet, and the mother of Malva Marina, the ill daughter whom Neruda never supported or acknowledged. The poet's official biography erased “Maruca” from the story, preferring to conceal a history of abandoned fatherhood.
“Roxane,” a feminist, made “Maruca” visible. By publishing that photograph in El Peneca, she turned the wife into a character in the travel chronicle and gave her a place in collective memory. Without knowing it, the photograph with “Maruca” became an alternative archive that challenges the poet's canonical narrative.
“Correspondence.”
Alongside the “Contributions” section, she edited “Correspondence,” just as her predecessors had done. El Peneca announced literary competitions and raffles, shared personal notices—birthdays and anniversaries—and promoted literary clubs in cities throughout Chile. Contributors sent photographs that the magazine published free of charge. The most distinctive element was Santa Cruz's affectionate greeting: she offered advice and signed most of the replies herself.
Issue no. 1191 of September 14, 1931 included a section titled “To Our Readers.” “Roxane” thanked “Malvaloca” for her affection and encouraged her to continue contributing. To Uturrieta she advised: “Improve your drawing further.” The editor saw potential in “Maubo's” humor and suggested a section of his own: “Your cartoons are good. You might inaugurate a section of caricatures and joke-making.” To “Kari” she replied: “Why do you complain about my absence? Mamá Chayo looked after you all with the affection of a good grandmother.”
Jorge Valenzuela.—If you wish to contribute to the magazine, you must comply with the requirements we set. Drawings are made on tracing paper in black India ink, in the dimensions specified for each Competition.
Emilio Gómez.—We shall be very pleased to accept you as a contributor. Send the work you mention and we shall judge it. Thank you for your kind words.
Carmen Guizado Barranco.—We are very pleased to receive letters like yours, which reveal the genuine affection Peruvian children feel for El Peneca. We most gladly accept you as a contributor, and Rosa Helena as well.”
ROXANE.
EL PENECA, no. 2008 or 2003, July 7, 1947 (only the page survives).
Silvia Valenzuela.—Is the poem you sent your own?
Blanca Poblete.—Your poems, scheduled for two fixed dates, were left out because of an excess of material. Their opportunity has therefore passed. Send us new work.
Nadia Ortega.—I am delighted that you enjoyed my work Flor Silvestre so much and that you are such an enthusiastic promoter of it. I deeply appreciate your warm congratulations. I am happy to accept you as a contributor to El Peneca.
Carmen Saavedra Walker, Margarita D'Alencon, Fresia Sorucco, Carlos and Judith Pozo, Gilberto Núñez, Olga Chaparro.—We thank you for the congratulations you send us on Ben-Hur, School for Vagabonds, Brave Heart, The Secret of Red Island and Durga-Rani. As you yourselves say, the interest of these serials never flags.
EL PENECA, no. 2073, September 4, 1948.
Notices to readers were included at the foot of the page:
“NOTE.—‘Quintín the Adventurer’ did not send us his contribution this week; we are therefore replacing it with other series until the next issue.
THE EDITORS.”
EL PENECA, no. 897, January 25, 1926.
“José Antonio Leiva.—To have your photograph published, all you need do is send it to El Peneca's address. Publication is free for our readers and contributors.”
EL PENECA, no. 1470, February 15, 1937.
At the bottom of the page, the following announcement appeared:
“CONTRIBUTION
‘COUNT CANIVAL’ is the spine-chilling novel, filled with the most astonishing adventures, that befall a boy among a tribe of Black Africans and heir to a great fortune. Get your copy of the magazine early.”
EL PENECA, no. 1470, February 15, 1937.
To Manuel Riveros she replied:
“—The delay you have noticed in the publication of your poems is due to the large number of poems we have already accepted and are publishing in turn.”
ROXANE
EL PENECA, no. 2050, March 27, 1948.
“Nelson Cortes, Margaret Darney, Lima, Peru. The drawings you send are very weak. Practice intensively. Learn the laws of drawing: perspective, light and shade, volume, artistic arrangement of objects, accuracy in details, and so forth.”
ROXANE
In the same issue, at the foot of the page, “Roxane” wrote an urgent notice:
“Roberto, your mother begs you to come home. She has suffered greatly.”
EL PENECA, no. 2088, December 18, 1948.
“CORRESPONDENCE
Senat and Nelly Blytte
Having been entrusted with forming the Peneca Committee in Antofagasta, they especially ask all contributors in that city to send their postal addresses to: Senat, P.O. Box 294, or Nelly Blytte, P.O. Box 542, Antofagasta. They particularly request the addresses of Wily Set, Hija del Cielo, Boxing and Cruz del Sur.”
EL PENECA, no. 894, January 4, 1926.
“Fortieth Anniversary of El Peneca.”
On reaching four decades of publication, the editors commemorated the “Fortieth Anniversary of El Peneca” in issue no. 2032 (November 22, 1947), printed a year earlier. Mario Silva Ossa surprised readers with an emblematic cover: the face of a peneca occupied the whole page, with spectacles, a penetrating gaze and a writing pen projecting an air of intellect. The cover was a visual homage to José Foradori's work published in the first issue of November 23, 1908.
The names of contributors from the period were highlighted: José Coamaño, Marcos Vegas Díaz “Indio Amado,” Ernesto Baeza Palacios, Manuel Jordán “Jordán,” César Sepúlveda, María Eliana Rojas “Nana,” Julio Berríos “Juber,” Reinaldo Pizarro, Demetrio Hurtubia Prado, Humberto Véliz, Mario Heyvar Cárcamo, Humberto Herrera and Margarita Reodi “Margarita del Desierto.”
The Zig-Zag publishing house paid tribute to the first two editors.
“EL PENECA TURNS FORTY
With a firm pedestal, like every work destined to endure, this children's magazine arose and is now the idol of several generations.
Enrique Blanchard-Chessi, a man of science and study, gave it its first direction, followed and improved upon by the distinguished French writer Don Emilio Vaisse (Omer Emeth) until its twelfth year.
Both writers gave El Peneca a portion of their activity, but their many literary pursuits prevented them from devoting themselves to it completely. To progress, the magazine needed absolute dedication, a total surrender to the spirit that had to animate it.
In 1920, Elvira Santa Cruz, known in literary circles by the pseudonym Roxane, assumed the editorship of El Peneca without calculating the significance of the mission entrusted to her; but her woman's intuition soon made her understand that she had to devote herself entirely to her work and renounce all purely literary glory, every ambition to figure among the brilliant constellation of Chilean writers.
From then onward El Peneca had a soul of its own, and this soul—warmth, renewal and drive—is what gives the magazine its immense success.
The pages of this children's weekly carry the essence of life...
Its pages are not filled routinely; they are continually renewed.
This spirit, this intellectual dynamism, spreads to everyone who works with the magazine.
Mario Silva Ossa (Coré) came to the magazine because he had been one of its young readers and began drawing out of love for it. His sketches as a precocious artist gradually became magnificent creations, and now we can proudly affirm that he is one of the finest illustrators in Latin America.
Elena Poirier joined our editorial office as a very young girl; here her artistic spirit has developed, giving ever greater distinction to her undeniable talent as an illustrator.
Fidelicio Atria accompanies us with admirable dedication. A painter of renown, he does not disdain illustrating children's stories or helping shape the magazine artistically.
Alberto Lungenstrass, who has only recently joined us as an illustrator, will surely follow the successful path of his fellow artists.
Ketmis, Roxane's counterpart on the literary side, was once a fanciful little girl who timidly brought her contributions to the magazine, where they were extraordinarily appreciated by readers. Today she can be compared with many Chilean writers for her creative spirit and refined style.
Olga Villalón, always in direct contact with contributors, directs competitions, raffles and correspondence.
In addition to those named, there is a whole host of contributors who send poetry, drawings, jokes and more, aspiring to follow in the footsteps of those who have already secured their success. In all of them dwell the same enthusiasm and the same fervor for the growth of South America's most popular magazine.
All firmly united around their editor, Roxane, they form that distinctive soul which pours light, joy and love into the world of childhood.
For El Peneca there are no economic crises, nor do price increases matter. A child needs the magazine as spiritual nourishment, and no one can deny it to him.
The little one hurries to learn to read so he can follow its serials; the schoolchild waits for it eagerly, caresses it and collects it like a treasure. In short, all children are proud of a magazine that belongs to them and is made for them.
FORTY YEARS!... almost half a century of success.
If there were a prize for tenacity and constancy, free of hesitation and routine, it should be awarded to Roxane, who after twenty-eight years directing El Peneca aspires only to give it still greater interest and animation, because this magazine is, one might say, the extension of her own spirit.”
EL PENECA, no. 2032, November 22, 1947.
As a special part of the celebration, the publishing house recovered a poetic adaptation of “Sleeping Beauty” that Gabriela Mistral had created in 1947, only two years after receiving the Nobel Prize in Literature. Enriched by Atria's delicate illustrations, the edition presented the classic tale as a serialized poem:
“SLEEPING BEAUTY
A Tale in Verse by GABRIELA MISTRAL
(conclusion)
She sleeps white as the frost
that gathers on the glass;
soul and body sleep within her;
peace has been poured out
upon the temples without a pulse,
upon the untouched braid,
and upon the falling eyelid,
pure sleep and gentleness.
And he bends toward her face
(he can no longer breathe),
and his mouth kisses the other,
pale with eternity.
And the roses of life
softly begin to open.
And the eyelids rise—
how heavy they are with dreaming!—
and the lips unfold,
and slowly begin to say:
—Why did you take so long,
O my prince, to arrive!”
EL PENECA, no. 2032, November 22, 1947.
Under Elvira Santa Cruz, El Peneca became a platform for interaction in which readers themselves became protagonists. The “Contributions” and “Correspondence” sections and the literary clubs functioned as an analog social network: children wrote, others replied, friendships formed across distances, ideas were debated and a collective identity was built.
This model anticipated by decades what we now call engagement, or active user participation. The motivation was mutual recognition and the pleasure of seeing one's work in print.
On the one hand, the magazine encouraged the use of pseudonyms—“Incógnita,” “Florisel,” “Enano Azul,” “Mapocho”—allowing children to construct literary identities free from the constraints of everyday life. A shy boy could become a daring adventurer in his writing; a provincial girl could become a recognized poet.
On the other hand, publishing a contributor's real name and photograph in the magazine amounted to an act of public consecration. The magazine functioned as a machine for creating small celebrities within Chile's children's world.
One of the discoveries was the deliberate construction of “Roxane” as a maternal figure. Readers dedicated poems to her and called her “our spiritual little mother” and “the angel who guides us.” She was both an editor and a symbolic mother to thousands of children.
Her letter recounting her first publication in El Mercurio showed that she herself had begun writing just as her readers did.
“Roxane's” journey around the world (1930-1932) reinforced that image in a unique way. While most children's magazine editors remained in their offices, Elvira Santa Cruz boarded the Belgenland, the same ocean liner as Albert Einstein. Her travel accounts combined the wonder of an exploration diary with the subtle morality of fables and the aesthetic sensibility of Romanticism. For young readers, “Roxane” traveled the world and brought back from every port a lesson disguised as adventure. The real voyage thus became another symbolic journey: that of a mother going out to discover the world and then returning to tell her penecas about it.
The texts published by contributors revealed a consistent moral pedagogy: work dignified the individual; poverty was an opportunity to demonstrate virtue. Obedience to parents was unquestionable, and charity was a duty.
The story “The Little Miner” (1926) was exemplary: a working child was disappointed by a “burly roto.” The lesson was to distrust bad examples. The protagonist's suffering became an edifying moral, not an indictment of society.
The presence of contributors from Peru, Argentina and France, together with the weekly's distribution throughout Latin America, served a crucial symbolic function: El Peneca was a Chilean weekly and also a Latin American one. Chilean contributors were called upon to “set the example” because “Chilean children had to come first,” revealing a nationalist pedagogy combined with patriotic pride.
Elvira Santa Cruz selected some of the finest works of the Western tradition and adapted them in accessible language, preserving their essence without losing closeness to a young audience. She also serialized them, turning each book into a sequence of weekly installments extending over time.
Charles Perrault (1628-1703) was a pioneer of children's literature; his work marked a milestone in writing specifically for children. In 1697, under the name of his son Pierre Darmancour, he published Histoires ou contes du temps passé (Tales of Times Past), a volume that gathered such treasures as “Little Red Riding Hood,” “Puss in Boots,” “Cinderella” and “Bluebeard.” The renowned author and member of the Académie Française transformed peasant legends into masterful tales that transcended their era and remained current for centuries. The weekly frequently drew on these stories, adapting them for a Chilean readership and including a summary of the previous installment in each chapter. In issue no. 654 (May 30, 1921), the contributor Perlita presented Jacinto Benavides's version of “Cinderella.” Perlita abridged and interpreted it, adding the following moral:
Moral: Cinderella was protected by the fairies because she was charitable and good. Had she ignored the voice of the little old woman asking for help in the forest, the fairies would not have protected her. There are still benevolent fairies in the world, and they are the seven virtues: by practicing them we shall make others happy and at the same time be happy ourselves, because there is no greater happiness than a peaceful conscience, nor greater joy than that which comes from duty fulfilled, from charity that dries tears, and from the comfort of a compassionate word easing grief and pain.
The Brothers Grimm, Jacob (1785-1863) and Wilhelm (1786-1859), published their collection Kinder- und Hausmärchen (Children's and Household Tales) in 1812. It brought together fables, myths and legends the linguists had gathered in the Kassel region, preserving oral tradition with philological rigor. As Jacob Grimm's letter to Franz Pfeiffer of February 19, 1860 attested, “the brothers maintained a firm opposition to literary embellishment of the narratives. They insisted on their desire to tell the traditions in a pure and faithful form. Jacob in particular strongly advocated fidelity and rejected exaggerations in conversations with Arnim, but also with his brother Wilhelm.” El Peneca published these narratives on many occasions. On February 14, 1921 (issue no. 639), it included “The Frog Prince,” which concluded in issue no. 641. On September 27, 1947 (issue no. 2024), it published “The Three Spinners,” illustrated by Fidelicio Atria Mardones. A princess who, after breaking her promise to an enchanted frog, was ordered by her father to honor her word, thereby setting in motion the amphibian's transformation into a prince.
“The Happy Prince,” reproduced in issue no. 678 (November 14, 1921), was written by Oscar Wilde (1854-1900) in 1888 and became one of the Irish author's most emblematic works for children. After the death of a prince who had enjoyed a life of pleasure, the citizens erected a golden statue of him high above the city. Covered with gold and jewels, the figure at first took pride in its privileged position until, moved by the poverty it could see below, it entered into a dialogue with a migrating swallow. Together they undertook a mission of charity: the prince ordered the bird to strip away his sheets of gold and remove his precious stones for distribution among those in need. Justice lay not in the gold one possessed but in the good one shared; and mercy, like the swallow, always found a heaven in which to nest when it chose to remain beside those who suffered.
Hans Christian Andersen (1805-1875) developed his literary career in the mid-nineteenth century. In 1839 he published his first children's book, Eventyr fortalte for Børn (Tales Told for Children). The work best known in Spanish received the title Aventuras para niños. An indefatigable traveler, Andersen became friends with Charles Dickens during his stay in London in 1847. Although he worked in many genres—from plays to novels—he became known above all for his fairy tales.
The story “Thumbelina” occupied a single issue. It recounted the adventures of a tiny girl born from a magical seed. After surviving dangers in the forest and escaping marriage to a toad, she flew to distant lands on the back of a swallow, where she found the prince of the flowers. The tale ended with their marriage and her coronation as queen of the flowers, a conclusion embodying the classic themes of belonging and miraculous transformation:
“Liluli, the King of the Flowers, chose the lovely Thumbelina as his bride.
‘Goodbye! Goodbye!’ cried Brisas del Mar (the swallow) at that moment.
And she took flight toward a beautiful and distant country, Denmark, where lived the man who wrote this story. She told it to him, and he told it to us (to El Peneca).
THE END.”
EL PENECA, no. 2012, June 5, 1947.
“The Tsar's Courier,” originally titled Michel Strogoff. De Moscou à Irkoutsk, by Jules Verne (1828-1905), was serialized in the Magasin d'Éducation et de Récréation between January 15 and November 13, 1876. This historical adventure novel conveyed values such as patriotism, courage and sacrifice through its protagonist, Michel Strogoff, personal courier to Tsar Alexander II, who fights for justice without surrender. His mission was to cross nineteenth-century Siberia, threatened by a Tatar rebellion, to deliver a message in the city of Irkutsk.
In El Peneca's Chilean edition, Mario Silva Ossa illustrated the covers of the series, including that of issue no. 2082 (November 6, 1948), while Elena Poirier produced the illustrations for the interior pages.
“THE TSAR'S COURIER
By Jules Verne
Chapter I.—Michel Strogoff
—The courier?—the Tsar asked quickly.
—Here he is, Your Majesty. I vouch for him. He has successfully carried out difficult and delicate missions. He has every quality required to succeed. He possesses a body of iron and a heart of gold.
—How old is he?
—Thirty, Your Majesty.
—Let him come in.
Moments later Michel Strogoff entered the imperial cabinet. He was tall, vigorous, broad in the shoulders and chest. His head bore the handsome, strong features of the Caucasian race. One could see that this fine, powerful man would not easily have been thrown off balance against his will, for when he planted his feet he gave the impression that they had taken root in the earth. His face, generally pale, changed only under the influence of a quickened heartbeat. His dark-blue eyes had a frank, direct, unwavering gaze and shone beneath lids whose slightly contracted brow muscles expressed great courage—the courage without anger of heroes.”
EL PENECA, no. 2078, October 9, 1947.
The Scarlet Pimpernel (1905), by Emma Orczy (1865-1947), was adapted and serialized in El Peneca with illustrations by Mario Silva Ossa and Elena Poirier, becoming a resounding success. Its protagonist, Sir Percy Blakeney, an English aristocrat, had created a secret society to rescue French nobles during the Terror of the French Revolution. What made the character fascinating was his double identity: in society, a frivolous and vain dandy; in the shadows, a daring hero who signed his exploits with a small flower—the scarlet pimpernel.
“THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL
By Baroness Orczy
In our next issue we shall begin this thrilling serial, recounting the daring adventures of an Englishman who, at the height of the Terror in France, defied the leaders of the Revolution and snatched from them the victims condemned to die beneath the guillotine.”
EL PENECA, no. 2005, May 17, 1947.
Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ was written by Lew Wallace (1827-1905). This serialized work of fiction, one of the most influential novels in the United States, was adapted and serialized by El Peneca. Ben-Hur, a Hebrew prince who lived in the first century of the Christian era, witnessed the life of Jesus Christ and the birth of Christianity:
“BEN-HUR
By Lew Wallace
Chapter XXIII.—Saint John the Baptist
SUMMARY: Through an intrigue by the procurator Valerius Gratus and Messala, both Romans, Ben-Hur is sentenced to the galleys. Ben-Hur saves the life of the tribune Quintus Arrius and is adopted by him as a son. He inherits a great fortune and his name. The merchant Simonides and his daughter acknowledge themselves as his servants after confirming that he is the son of Prince Ithamar of Hur, although he bears the name Quintus Arrius. Messala is defeated by the Hebrew in a race and left disabled. Ben-Hur devotes himself to searching for his mother and sister, who after a long imprisonment in the Tower of Antonia have contracted leprosy. The Prince of Hur learns that they suffer from the terrible disease. Despite his efforts, he cannot find them. He then returns to the desert, where he prepares Hebrew legions to receive the King announced in the Scriptures.”
EL PENECA, no. 2068, July 31, 1948.
As part of its editorial approach, El Peneca adapted classics such as Charles Dickens's David Copperfield. The English author had begun his literary career in an unusual fashion: while still unknown, he began publishing inexpensive monthly stand-alone installments. After nineteen parts (1836-1837), these pieces were collected as the complete novel The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club. This system established a model of serialization that El Peneca replicated: stories appeared first in weekly installments within the magazine and, once the series was complete, the full work was advertised for sale as a book. In 1926 Zig-Zag turned serialized material into collectible books. An advertisement published in issue no. 895 (January 11, 1926), under the heading “Picture Gallery for the Penecas,” revealed this sales strategy, much as Dickens had done:
“PICTURE GALLERY FOR THE PENECAS
At the request of many penecas who wish to own collections of the lovely three-color pictures from the series ‘María Cinderella,’ ‘Ali Baba,’ ‘Beauty and the Beast,’ and the other series that will soon be appearing, the editors of El Peneca have decided to issue them on coated paper with a border, so that all children may place them in their playrooms and form a beautiful gallery of Perrault's tales. Each collection consists of eleven pictures, costs $5.00, and may now be ordered from the El Peneca offices, Santiago, P.O. Box 84-D.”
THE EDITORS.
EL PENECA, no. 895, January 11, 1926.
El Peneca ranged from the duels and intrigues of Alexandre Dumas's The Three Musketeers to the maritime adventures of Robert Louis Stevenson in Treasure Island. Medieval legends such as El Cid and Herne the Hunter shared its pages with the Eastern tales of One Thousand and One Nights.
The selection also included Selma Lagerlöf (1858-1940) and her novel “The Sacred Flame.” The Swedish writer was the first woman to receive the Nobel Prize in Literature, in 1909. Another published author was Daniel Defoe (1660-1731), who helped establish the conventions of the adventure novel. In 1719 he published his emblematic Robinson Crusoe, based on the experiences of Scottish sailor Alexander Selkirk in the Juan Fernández Archipelago.
Alongside these monumental works of universal renown, El Peneca included at least one original title each week by Spanish-language authors, whether anonymous or writing under pseudonyms. This process generated a cultural syncretism in which the European and Chilean traditions transformed one another through contact, just as they had during the first period, from 1908 to 1921. Tales from other countries were adapted to the local context, while Chilean authors reinterpreted those stories through their own sensibilities and gave them a distinctive stamp.
One example of this phenomenon is the serialized tale “The Dancing Shoes,” adapted by Benjamín Oviedo. Published between July 4, 1921 (issue no. 659) and issue no. 661 of El Peneca, the story was based on the European folk tale “The Twelve Dancing Princesses.” It recounted the nocturnal adventures of twelve princesses who escaped their father's watch and slipped out of the palace to attend secret dances. After a series of suitors failed, a soldier uncovered the mystery with the help of a magical cloak of invisibility. In the end he married the eldest princess, while the others were punished.
Artist and illustrator Aníbal Alvial adapted “The Red Fish” in issue no. 666 (August 22, 1921). A red fish abducted a princess to the depths of the sea after she lost a jeweled ring in the water. A prince managed to defeat the fish, free the princess and, as his reward, marry her, bringing the story to a happy ending.
Along the same lines, El Peneca published other tales including “Wide, Long and Ember Eyes,” “Ahmed's Three Wishes,” “The Mandarin and the Fisherman,” “The Lords of the White Castle and the Gray Castle,” and “Olavo of the Farm.”
“The Giant Prince,” published on August 9, 1947 (issue no. 2017), told the story of a prince who began growing to enormous proportions from the moment of his birth. When he fell in love with a peasant woman, his majestic size diminished under the influence of the feelings inspired by her simplicity.
On March 1, 1926, in issue no. 902, “The Redskin's Gold” followed two children fighting to restore the honor of their father, who had been unjustly executed, confronting both the villain and those who coveted their inheritance. Years later, on January 4, 1932 (issue no. 1207), “The Hand of Vengeance” told the story of a noble orphan boy who, through integrity and ingenuity, resisted the abuses of criminals. In the same tradition, long serial novels such as “The Nameless Girl” and “The Vacant Throne” reflected values of strength and ethics in adversity. Other titles—“The Cave of Little Hell,” “The Land of Clouds,” “The Shadow of the Condor,” “Sonia the Rebel,” “Edna the Fugitive,” “The Magician and the Enchantress Princess,” and “Bound for Australia”—completed a varied editorial offering. Special mention belongs to “The Last Pharaoh,” a serialized story presented in a version by “Ketmis,” whose finale unfolded in full color on the back cover with illustrations by Elena Poirier.
“THE LAST PHARAOH
CHAPTER XII AND FINAL—The End of a Dream.
The prolonged silence that followed was broken by Lord Evendal's cold voice:
—Now, what do you intend to do, Sahuri? I propose that you come with us. In my country, or in Rumfius's, you will find work. I...
—If my lord does not object, I should like to remain in Egypt—Nafra's timid voice said...
That was the last time Lord Arthur Evendal saw Princess Nafra, her beautiful face framed by a Bedouin burnous.
With an abrupt gesture he motioned to Rumfius to follow him and went toward his ship.”
THE END
EL PENECA, no. 2005, May 17, 1947.
In this regard, the voice of Mario Vargas Llosa, recipient of the 2010 Nobel Prize in Literature, acquires special significance. In an interview published on YouTube on August 15, 2019, the Peruvian writer recalled his childhood and his first steps as a reader thanks to El Peneca and Billiken. His words are still worth hearing today: “I read mostly adventure books, made me participate in adventures life, I remember two monthly magazines, who arrived, probably circulate in all Latin America, one was Argentine Billiken, the other was Chilean Peneca. They were no comics there were for reading. They were kind of long novels that were divided in episodes, that may be gave me the idea that a very good novel it’s a very large novel, probably I had this prejudice in favor of great novels as novels that also were great in extensions.” “I read above all adventure books, which made me participate in life's adventures. I remember two monthly magazines that arrived, and probably circulated throughout Latin America: one was the Argentine Billiken, the other the Chilean El Peneca. They were not comics; they were for reading, like long novels divided into episodes. Perhaps that gave me the idea that a very good novel was a very long novel, and that is probably why I had this prejudice in favor of the best novels also being the longest.”
El Peneca also incorporated a new kind of serialized narrative, whether in comic-strip form or as illustrated stories. Detective plots were particularly popular within this genre. These stories featured investigators of exceptional ability whose intellectual acuity and technical skill enabled them to solve complex cases, either complementing or making up for shortcomings in the justice system. Constructed as pragmatic figures, the protagonists showed remarkable analytical capacity in interpreting legal codes and an efficient ability to unravel crimes, administer justice and ultimately restore social balance. Among the titles published by the magazine were: “Browing & Co.,” “Iko Tertuk,” “The Celebrated Japanese Detective,” “He Was a Spy,” “Dan Doris,” “The Tracker of Fu-Ghong,” “Among Bandits,” “Detective David Lawson and His Assistant Eddie,” “The Inheritance of Tomás Seyton,” “The Vacant Throne,” “The Misadventures of Zitrina,” and “The Secret of Red Island.”
At the same time, illustrated strips and serialized comics continued along the lines established in earlier issues, combining drawing and text to narrate everyday life, satirize daily experience or provoke laughter. Among the most representative titles were: “Olindo and Patelana,” “Carmañola the Brave,” “Clever Juanita,” “Pussifucita Never Neglects Her Little Sister Pussito,” “The Son of the Superman,” “Uncle Cachiporra,” “The Enchanted Horse,” “Pirulín,” “Palema and Jaime,” “Little Black Floridor,” “The Golden Arrow,” “Papa Rucha and His Son Mote,” “Fufulla the Cat,” “Aunt Cutufa's Sufferings,” “The Excursionist and His Helpers,” “Circus Farce,” “The Imitative Spirit of Two Macaques,” “The Acrobatic Adventures of Little Charlie Chaplin,” “Uncle Fufulla and His Nephews,” “Professional Unions of Beggars,” “Adventures of a Stray Dog,” “Pin-Pin Safarín Goes Around the World,” “No More Broken Heads,” “The Two Crackpots,” “Crock, the Marvelous Comedian,” “The Goblins Chiche and Cheche,” “Adventures of a Circus Manager,” “Salambó,” and “Little Charlie Chaplin.”
It is worth noting that in 1933, in issue no. 1288 of El Peneca (August 21), a drawing of Mickey Mouse appeared, demonstrating that the magazine cultivated not only local genres and series illustrated by Chilean artists but also incorporated certain icons of American popular culture.
Rob the Rover was an English comic strip created by Walter Henry Booth and originally appeared in a satirical magazine called Puck. The comic arrived translated and adapted for Chilean readers, giving rise to “Quintín the Adventurer.” Quintín crossed geographical boundaries and appeared in jungles, deserts, islands, volcanoes, open seas, exotic countries and urban settings. For his exploits he used the famous “Submarplano,” a propeller-driven hybrid vehicle that functioned as submarine, boat and airplane all at once.
The first installment appeared on October 31, 1921 (issue no. 676), with four black-and-white panels occupying a full page. The continuation was announced on the penultimate page of the same issue. This structure became a tradition over the years.
The beginning of the series included a striking introduction. “Quintín” was a young orphan, poor, without family support and apparently without any preparation for what destiny held in store. The premise served as an example encouraging young readers to imagine a future full of adventure regardless of their origins or social status. “Quintín” represented adventure and justice:
“Quintín the Adventurer
SERIES I
1. Quintín was an orphan boy, alone in the world, who from a very early age wandered the globe with no companion but his dog Alí. A great film producer, having discovered talent in him as a motion-picture actor, hired him for his company, and in this way Quintín was able to travel the world and satisfy his thirst for adventure. After visiting many countries, the company has reached the coast of Ceylon. In sight is a native canoe whose occupants are bringing sponges up from the bottom of the sea.
2. At once the producer decides to make an interesting film and for that purpose lowers one of his boats into the water, placing the movie camera aboard. It was indeed fascinating to watch the men dive naked into the depths of the sea, carrying large knives clenched between their teeth to defend themselves from the sharks infesting those waters. The water was so clear that the camera could take pictures through the ocean.
3. Quintín was handling the oars together with old sailor Daniel, father of Doris, the young adventurer's great friend. Suddenly, looking down through the water, Quintín saw one of the sponge fishermen struggling in vain to free his foot, which had been caught by a giant shell. ‘Look, Don Daniel!’ cried the compassionate boy. ‘That poor man will drown if they do not save him soon.’ And indeed, unless one of his companions helped him quickly, the fisherman would die.”
4. While the fishermen tried to devise a way of rescuing their unfortunate companion, Quintín, with extraordinary ingenuity and courage, decided to go to the man's aid. Taking a very thick hook, he tied it to a cable. ‘I have an idea, if you will permit me, boss,’ the boy said to the producer. ‘I am going down into the depths with this hook. When I shake the cable, that will be the signal for you to pull the line.’ ‘Go, generous boy,’ replied Mr. Gib, ‘and may God protect you.’”
(continued on p. 18)
“Quintín” became the prototype for the comic strips gradually incorporated into the magazine. It is important to note that Alberto Lungenstrass was frequently responsible for illustrating and adapting “Quintín the Adventurer.” This happened whenever foreign comic shipments failed to reach the publishing house on the agreed date.
Within this adventure tradition emerged supermen and superwomen, represented by titles such as “The Son of the Superman,” “Sandar,” “The Cursed Archipelago,” “Durga-Rani, Queen of the Jungle,” “Lili, Air Auxiliary,” and “Castaways of the Air.” Robin Hood arrived in the weekly as an illustrated strip beginning with issue no. 2028 (October 25, 1947), appearing on the first two pages and the penultimate page.
Serialized westerns were indispensable to popular children's literature during Elvira Santa Cruz's period. Through imagination, these stories transported boys and girls to arid landscapes populated by cowboys, Indigenous peoples and duels fought with pistols and bows. Among the titles published were: “Tex, the Daring Patrolman,” “Vengeance of the Gray Wolf,” “The Wild Horse,” “Falcons of Nevada,” “Golden Arrow,” and “The Happy Ranch.”
El Peneca offered the classics of Perrault, Grimm, Andersen, Verne, Dumas, Dickens and Stevenson, to name only a few. Its novels became enormously popular, and installment publication served an economic strategy: a reader who bought El Peneca to follow the next chapter of “The Tsar's Courier” or Ben-Hur became a captive reader. Serialization created a weekly buying habit, and every issue included a cliffhanger—a suspended ending—that encouraged the child, or the child's parents, to buy the following edition.
In this way, the magazine offered readers a cultural passport into an intellectual world without requiring them to pay for a private library. In that sense it democratized culture: children learned to revere the same authors admired by the country's teachers and intellectuals.
Comics and illustrated strips were also part of the new literature for young people that “Roxane” successfully incorporated. Both genres were enriched by extraordinary artwork, with Mario Silva Ossa standing out as the cover illustrator whose work became the magazine's principal visual attraction.
Thus El Peneca did more than entertain: it formed readers regardless of birth or social background, anticipating what today we call media literacy.
With the end of Elvira Santa Cruz's editorship on September 26, 1951, El Peneca entered a slow decline. A succession of nationally prestigious editors and illustrators followed, but despite their ability and excellence they were unable to save the weekly.
Artists such as Themo Lobos, Elena Poirier, Renato Andrade (“Nato”), René Rodolfo Ríos Boettiger (“Pepo”), Mario Igor Vargas and Víctor de la Fuente, together with others who remained anonymous or signed under pseudonyms, formed a group that tried during this period to keep the magazine afloat.
The effort they made between 1951 and 1960, until El Peneca closed, took the form of teamwork. They would become creators of some of the most important magazines of the period between 1960 and 1973. Those publications, like El Peneca, remain in the memories of readers who grew up after its disappearance.
Condorito, created in 1949 by “Pepo,” is a world-famous character and a symbol of Chilean identity that remains part of popular reading to this day. Mampato was a comic magazine whose creation is attributed to Eduardo Armstrong, with Oscar Vega as its first editor and Themo Lobos as its principal illustrator. The magazine became a landmark, reaching a fame comparable to that of El Peneca. Renato Andrade, known as “Nato,” contributed illustrations during this final stage and later became art director of the well-known sports-comic magazine Barrabases, created by Guido Vallejos and still on the market today. Elena Poirier accompanied the weekly through its final years. Journalist and illustrator Óscar Camino also participated, as did Mario Igor, one of the most active illustrators of the third period. Another contributor was Argentine illustrator Adolfo Urtiaga (b. 1927), who worked for Zig-Zag alongside Themo Lobos. Víctor de la Fuente not only gave the magazine a new appearance under the title “The Intrepid Peneca,” but also attempted to expand it internationally. After leaving Chile, he developed a worldwide career in comics, receiving numerous honors and awards. In 1980 he received the Yellow Kid Award in Lucca, regarded as the “Oscar of comics.”
Their drawings and illustrations left an important legacy during this difficult stage. All belonged to the last group of the generation associated with the “golden age of Chilean magazines.”
The editors of this period were:
María Romero (1909-1990) studied English pedagogy. She began her career as secretary to educator Amanda Labarca and to the editor of Ecran magazine. A recognized film reporter and journalist, she worked for years as a columnist for El Mercurio. She was the first editor to succeed Elvira Santa Cruz. Illustrator L. Alvial produced the cover of issue no. 2239 (November 10, 1951), titled “The Buccaneer's Treasure,” depicting a pirate and a woman on the high seas. An innovative device appeared in issue no. 2240 (November 17, 1951), where the front and back covers formed a single illustration of Alice in Wonderland. Under the pseudonym “Toqui,” the cover of issue no. 2241 (November 24, 1951) presented the face of “Roy Rogers, King of the Cowboys.”
Elena Poirier contributed to issue no. 2266 (May 17, 1952) with “The Spotted Turtle Gang.” “Toqui” returned to the star character on the cover of issue no. 2270 (June 14, 1952), with a new illustration of Roy Rogers.
“Pepo” left his mark on the covers: in issue no. 2331 (August 15, 1953), he showed a student carrying his teacher on his shoulders because of a flood; and in issue no. 2333 (August 29, 1953), he illustrated a young man in a helicopter offering his girlfriend a bouquet of flowers.
“Nato's” absurd humor appeared in issue no. 2347 (December 5, 1953) with the cartoon “Pepe Conejín,” in which a rabbit shot an arrow at a little lamb; and in issue no. 2479 (July 17, 1954), a youngster equipped himself with diving gear to plunge into a bathtub that apparently was full of fish.
These covers illustrate the different strategies used to connect with the public. The repeated appearance of Roy Rogers, a Hollywood idol, showed how El Peneca incorporated pop figures in an effort to remain relevant. Covers such as Alice in Wonderland or The Spotted Turtle Gang represented the weekly's traditional pillar of classic tales and illustrated adventures. “Pepo” and “Nato,” amid the rise of observational and absurd humor, were especially significant. “Pepo” had already refined his gaze on Chilean society. “Nato,” by contrast, represented a more surreal humor that appealed directly to absurdity.
Edith Mützel (b. 1922) worked for years at El Peneca, where she acquired her knowledge of editorial operations. After María Romero resigned, she assumed the editorship in 1955. Although her tenure lasted less than a year, she continued the educational and entertainment-oriented line. Examples from this period included: “Pepo,” issue no. 2410 (February 19, 1955); “Nato,” issue no. 2411 (February 26, 1955); “Pepo,” issue no. 2414 (March 19, 1955); “Pepo,” issue no. 2418 (April 16, 1955); issue no. 2419 (April 23, 1955), by an anonymous artist; and “Nato” in issue no. 2435 (August 13, 1955).
Graciela “Totó” Romero (January 9-August 9, 1956)
Graciela Romero (1925-2011) was the niece of the previous editor, María Romero. Although she trained as a social worker, she devoted herself principally to journalism, specializing in reportage. Known in journalistic circles as “Totó” Romero, she achieved popularity and charisma in Chile's cultural world.
Among the notable covers from this period were the following: Óscar Camino drew a man in space dressed as an astronaut for issue no. 2459 (January 28, 1956). Issue no. 2463 (February 25, 1956), titled “The Blue Triangle,” featured the face of an aviator with warplanes speeding behind him. The cover of issue no. 2468 (March 31, 1956) was designed by Elena Poirier. Themo Lobos illustrated issue no. 2469 (April 7, 1956). Illustrator R. Noriega M. produced the covers of issues nos. 2476 (May 26, 1956) and 2486 (August 4, 1956).
The editorship during this brief period was not publicly identified. Editorial work was sustained by a Zig-Zag team that managed to retain star contributors “Nato,” Themo Lobos, Elena Poirier and Adolfo Urtiaga.
Henriette Morván (1900-1999) used the artistic name “Damita Duende” in her editorial work. She collaborated with Elvira Santa Cruz, Blanca Santa Cruz and Ester Cosani in collecting and adapting Chilean stories and legends.
She assumed the editorship in March 1957. This brief period was marked by a gradual decline in sales.
A parallel can be identified in the cover of issue no. 2491 (September 8, 1956). For this cover, “Nato” drew a mischievous child playing a prank on an old man. The illustration directly evoked the cover of issue no. 39 (August 16, 1909), which had shown an anonymous drawing of a child under the title “Kind Grandson,” performing a similar action forty-seven years earlier.
Themo Lobos designed the cover of issue no. 2492 (September 15, 1956). Elena Poirier illustrated the cover of issue no. 2494 (September 29, 1956). Issue no. 2544 (September 14, 1957) celebrated “Independence Day” with a portrait of Bernardo O'Higgins and Chile's Act of Independence.
Víctor de la Fuente (1927-2010) worked for Editorial Zig-Zag in the early 1950s before taking over as editor. He personally illustrated almost every issue during his brief ten-month tenure. He tried to revitalize the format with a more adventurous approach and made substantial efforts to keep the publication alive despite the continuing decline in readership. With issue no. 2555 of November 30, 1957, El Peneca underwent a dramatic shift and attempted a complete rebirth. The cover introduced a new word alongside an illustration of an American cowboy: “The Intrepid Peneca.” The adjective cast the character as “brave, courageous, combative and daring.” The concept departed entirely from the publication's original meaning. The cover announced: “11 continuing comic strips. One complete adventure.”
The December 21, 1957 edition (issue no. 2558) showed a blond child on a tricycle inviting readers to celebrate the New Year of 1958. The same child crossed out the old number with lipstick and wrote: “Happy 1958.”
“The Intrepid Peneca” might appear as a warrior in the wars of the Middle Ages, a defiant aviator, a boxer, a horseman, a fighter wearing a Peruvian Indigenous cap—with the muscular physique of a European figure—a cowboy, or an Indigenous boy of Western appearance carrying spears on his back.
Issue no. 2568 (March 1, 1958) depicted two astronauts in space, creating the sensation that they were floating in the void. The same cover announced the beginning of an adventure series, “Monarch of the Sun.”
“The Intrepid Peneca” appeared dressed as Tarzan in Africa and as an American soldier fighting in a distant country, in issue no. 2585 (June 28, 1958). In issue no. 2596 (September 13, 1958), he drew one of the heroes of Independence in combat, mounted on horseback and wearing the Chilean sash. His clothing suggested a figure from the independence struggle, perhaps one of the Carrera brothers, José de San Martín or Bernardo O'Higgins.
Carmen Alvaray de Zúñiga (October 1958-April 20, 1960)
During this period, the covers returned to a more child-oriented audience, although the name “The Intrepid Peneca” was retained. An example of this shift is the simple, rustic illustration of November 8, 1958 (issue no. 2604), which showed Roy Rogers galloping on horseback.
In a final effort, the magazine returned to its older aesthetic tradition, integrating the words “The Intrepid” more discreetly. For these final issues, illustrators and artists such as “Nato,” Themo Lobos, Elena Poirier, Mario Igor and artists signing under the pseudonyms “Ghion” and “Ashley” once again participated.
Odilia Navarro was El Peneca's final editor. She had joined the publication in its early years as part of Elvira Santa Cruz's team and worked closely with the magazine throughout its golden age, from the 1920s through the 1940s. She assumed the editorship in its twilight, when closure had become inevitable.
In issue no. 2680 (April 23, 1960), the words “The Intrepid” were removed. Issue no. 2705 (October 20, 1960) marked the definitive end of publication. In 1971, eleven years later, an attempt was made to revive the magazine.
Francisco Alomar (December 28, 1971-April 17, 1972)
In 1971, Francisco Alomar attempted to revive El Peneca after a decade of absence, but the relaunch had limited circulation and lasted barely four months. Together with contributors such as scriptwriter Juan Bley and illustrator Enrique Calvo, the team created a new version of the principal character: a studious, athletic boy named El Peneca, surrounded by a variety of entertainment stories. Despite these efforts, the publication could not survive and disappeared for good in April 1972, marking the end of every attempt to rescue the children's weekly.
The word PENECA, which gave the weekly its name, is an exclusively Chilean term referring to a pupil beginning the first tasks or preparatory classes at school. “Peneca: child, youngster.” As the definition suggests, the name itself revealed the purpose: to form, prepare and initiate children. One of the magazine's central goals was therefore the conscious education of its penecas.
The editorial line sought to shape and educate children while creating national unity in a young country such as Chile, which had become independent in 1818. As a recent republic, Chile needed to construct its own national identity.
To do so, it turned to historical recovery of the events of Independence and integrated milestones such as the War of the Pacific (1879-1884) and other patriotic events. El Peneca presented these episodes as foundational pillars of Chilean identity.
The constituent elements of its principal message were military valor, the homeland and social cohesion, rooted in events such as the struggle against Spanish colonialism (1810-1818) and the subsequent defense of national sovereignty.
El Peneca first appeared on November 23, 1908, ninety-eight years after the First National Government Junta of 1810, during the presidency of Pedro Montt (1906-1910). In issue no. 44 (September 20, 1909), editor Blanchard-Chessi published a historical survey titled “The Governments of Chile, 1810-1909,” spanning the period from September 18, 1810, under the presidency of Mateo de Toro y Zambrano, to Montt's government. The text reinforced institutional continuity as a fundamental axis of national identity.
The courage of figures such as O'Higgins, the Carrera brothers, Rodríguez and San Martín was portrayed as the nobility of souls whose sacrifice secured independence. By addressing the penecas, the magazine shaped a civic consciousness aligned with values of order, hierarchy and loyalty to the homeland. The selection of dates—1810 (First National Government Junta), 1818 (Declaration of Chilean Independence) and 1879 (beginning of the War of the Pacific)—and their repeated appearance on covers and in articles created a civic calendar linking the independence-era past with the present and projecting Chile as a young, victorious nation on the rise.
Images of the principal heroes offered examples of courage and daring. El Peneca presented national heroes and fighting forces. The history of that period of struggle for emancipation celebrated the unity of readers around the patriotic feat.
The Naval Battle of Iquique, fought during the War of the Pacific in 1879, constituted the second legendary event to seal a spirit of unity among Chileans.
Love of the flag—the lone star and the colors blue, white and red—and of the national anthem appeared as an unquestionable civic duty, linking identity with institutional loyalty. The martial epic blended with a moral narrative: “giving one's life for the homeland” represented the highest honor.
The emphasis on military history and national heroes reflected the mentality of an era in which Chilean identity rested on myths of heroism and national unity.
El Peneca presented readers with numerous narratives about the lives of the country's principal patriotic heroes, such as Manuel Rodríguez, a popular historical figure from the struggle for Independence. School literature described him as the first guerrilla fighter and spy in Chilean history:
“The Celebrated Patriot MANUEL RODRÍGUEZ
Anecdotes About MANUEL RODRÍGUEZ
...It happened then that, while in Chile Rodríguez was believed to be in Mendoza, he had begun to trouble the royalist authorities in Colchagua, preaching hatred of the Spaniards, emphasizing their excesses and awakening everywhere a public spirit that until then had lain dormant. For this he spared no sacrifice of any kind and was deterred by no consideration.
Invisible only to those capable of recognizing him, he did not fear the Spanish soldiers; he walked among them shouting ‘Long live the King!’ and evaded the strictest surveillance in order to communicate with his own people and conspire without danger.
It is said that Rodríguez, taking assumed names, visited the very houses frequented by the Talavera officers and, in order to discredit them even before the women, competed with them in affairs of love.”
José Bernardo SUÁREZ
EL PENECA, no. 43, September 13, 1909.
In the short biography “The Carreras,” written by contributor Alejandro “2° Tinsly,” political controversies among patriots were attributed to external causes, avoiding deeper discussion of internal conflicts or ideological differences:
“THE CARRERAS
Unfortunately, our country had fallen into the most terrible anarchy. Even the patriots themselves were divided into two factions, whose quarrels were encouraged by the peninsular Spaniards, avowed enemies of every political innovation...
...Nevertheless, he [General Don José Miguel Carrera, L.C.] achieved small victories over the enemy, his brief command ending with the bloody and sublime epic of Rancagua.
In the company of the voluntary exiles he crossed into Argentina, execrated by the ignorant multitude and by the envious, who blamed him as the sole culprit for the latest disasters.
Alone, without a friend, without resources, he wandered through North America without even knowing the language of those lands, searching for the means with which to reconquer his country.
And at last he succeeded! But envy and selfishness proved stronger than his will [José Miguel Carrera's, L.C.]. On arriving in Buenos Aires he was detained and arrested, under the pretext of conspiring against San Martín and O'Higgins, his bitterest enemies.”
Alejandro 2° TINSLY
EL PENECA, no. 43, September 13, 1909.
The story “One September Eighteenth of General O'Higgins,” published under the pseudonym “Cabo Moya,” dealt with the hero's exile. The narrative described how O'Higgins had to work to survive and maintain a life far from his homeland, exposing a tragic episode in his destiny: from abdication, through exile, to the final ingratitude of his compatriots. This humanizing perspective contrasted with the customary monumental representation of national heroes, revealing contradictions between patriotic ideals and historical reality:
“GENERAL DON BERNARDO O'HIGGINS
A ‘September Eighteenth’ of General Bernardo O'Higgins
I
The strongest bulwark of Chilean independence, the illustrious and glorious General Don Bernardo O'Higgins, was forced in the final years of his life, after abdicating the supreme power of his country in 1823, to experience the deepest sorrow: ingratitude.”
III
“The words spoken by the victor of Chacabuco were sincere: he had reason to complain of the ingratitude of his compatriots....
The following case proves what we have said. One day, as he walked distractedly, alone, stooped and thoughtful along one of the streets of Lima, a group of Chilean boys suddenly recognized him and cried out enthusiastically:
—Long live Don Bernardo!
And they surrounded him, embraced him warmly and lifted him bodily into the air in their delight.
But the illustrious O'Higgins, embarrassed by so spontaneous an ovation and carrying a secret sorrow in his breast, could not help gently reproaching them as he tried to free himself from the arms of his admirers:
—For God's sake! For God's sake!—these words are attributed to O'Higgins, L.C.—do not tear my frock coat. I am poor, and it is the only good garment I have left!...”
CARAMOYA
EL PENECA, no. 43, September 13, 1909.
In 1909 an historical essay signed by the editor appeared, recounting the Battle of Maipú of April 5, 1818 in eight episodes. Enrique Blanchard-Chessi described real events with precise information: the places where they occurred, the number of combatants and maps of the period. Each episode unfolded in an atmosphere of patriotic drama, incorporating dialogues and confidences attributed to the heroes.
The Battle of Maipú marked the beginning of Chile's definitive Independence, and the editor wrote about its meaning in a lyrical narrative intended to inspire children to love their homeland. In the third episode, the reader encountered:
“THE BATTLE OF MAIPÚ
(April 5, 1818)
III
Nevertheless, the valiant invalid [Bernardo O'Higgins, L.C.], on learning from engineer Bacier D'Albe at 9 p.m. on the 4th that an enemy force led by Primo de Rivera threatened to attack the city during the night, showed how much his noble heart was capable of doing in service to his homeland. He personally inspected the trenches built along the road where Avenida Brasil stands today and ordered his horse kept ready so that, at the slightest incident, he could place himself at the head of the city's militia.
—Sir, Baron D'Albe told him, leave the city for tonight...
—No! O'Higgins answered. I shall die here, and if they come, they will find me at my post!”
ENRIQUE BLANCHARD-CHESSI
EL PENECA, no. 51, November 8, 1909.
Issue no. 43 (September 13, 1909) commemorated the national Independence celebrations. The Chilean coat of arms appeared on the cover. The center pages illustrated one of the battles of Independence. The issue included the Declaration of Independence of February 12, 1818, signed by Bernardo O'Higgins, Miguel Zañartu, Hipólito de Villegas and José Ignacio Zenteno. Blanchard-Chessi explained the patriotic meaning of September 18. Portraits appeared of the precursors of Independence, José Antonio Rojas and Bernardo de Vera y Pintado, along with an apology for lacking an image of the third precursor, Juan Antonio Ovalle. The issue also contained accounts of the “Events of September 18, 1810,” patriotic odes, brief biographies of heroes such as “The Dream of a Patriot,” and profiles of women who participated in the struggle for Independence.
This pedagogical and commercial model also had a civic dimension that expressed itself with particular force in 1910. One of the most important dates after Chilean Independence was the centennial celebration of 1910, marking one hundred years since that event. That year the editor devoted the August and September pages to exalting this historic occasion. For September 19, in issue no. 96, the magazine expanded to thirty-nine pages so that it could include abundant graphic material. The pages were written almost exclusively by peneca contributors—an unprecedented development. El Peneca gave children the floor at a moment of patriotic solemnity. The publication printed photographs of secondary-school students and primary schools. It included texts, prose pieces and verses saluting the nation and its heroes. The editor wrote only the introduction, allowing the children to express in their own words their feelings toward national Independence. In this way, the magazine did not merely form readers; on this occasion, children took possession of their history.
“The Centennial of Chile
With what joy we celebrate today (September 18) the glorious event of one hundred years of independent life!
Glory to Chile, glory to our homeland, which has advanced rapidly toward progress, always worthy, always honorable, always victorious!
It was born, one might say, into civilized life through the great efforts of the noble sons of Spain; but within itself it possessed a beautiful sky, fertile fields, powerful arms and generous hearts.
The Spaniards gave us civilization; the Araucanians, the land's original children, possessed that indomitable courage which leads to glory even in defeat.
Both elements have made our beloved homeland glorious.
Once independence was established through the efforts of true and wholehearted statesmen and warriors of heroic courage and self-sacrifice, Chile began its life as a nation and organized itself with a solidity rightly admired by many other peoples.”
ENRIQUE BLANCHARD-CHESSI
EL PENECA, no. 96, September 19, 1910.
The cover featured an allegorical female figure resembling an angel, combining femininity with patriotic virtue. In her hair she bore a luminous star symbolizing the republican ideal. She held a torch of triumph that illuminated the path ahead, representing Chile's leadership toward a glorious future:
“Chile, the dense veil of ignorance
shrewdly tore apart; sublime, with patience,
heroically it won its independence,
and now toward progress takes its flight.”
EL PENECA, no. 96, September 19, 1910.
In issue no. 93 (August 29, 1910), photographs of country children showed how expectantly they awaited the festivities. The caption read: “The youngsters are curious and truly await with eagerness the Centennial of the great day, a date of rightful joy!”
In “Our National History,” written by Waldo A. Gallardo, episodes of war and heroic figures were exalted as symbols of Chilean identity:
“OUR NATIONAL HISTORY
Historical Attempts
There can be no relic on our beloved and venerated soil more sacred than our sacrosanct ‘National History,’ whose annals record for perpetual memory the names of its imperishable sons of sacrifice, who eclipsed their own fame in order to give their names to immortal memory and crown with laurel leaves the illustrious ashes of those brave titans who, with their mighty arms, won the most unequal and bloody struggles and battles amid the call of bugles and the thunder of cannon.
Glory to Chile! And may the unconquered glories that gave this soil Homeland and Liberty never pass unnoticed.”
Waldo A. Gallardo C.
EL PENECA, no. 59, January 3, 1910.
“The Battle of Chacabuco” sealed a decisive confrontation between royalists and independence forces, whose victory hastened Chilean independence and the later Battle of Maipú. As a complement, the magazine included a letter from O'Higgins to Egaña (1830) that placed patriotic ideals above hardship:
“THE BATTLE OF CHACABUCO
If my accusers had known these things and experienced their torments, then—and only then—would they have understood my feelings when I placed myself at the head of my brave infantry and used the cries of the days of El Roble and Rancagua, when I exclaimed:
—Soldiers! Live with honor or die with glory! Let the brave follow my march! Columns, charge!—Then and only then could my accusers understand how seven hundred infantrymen, supported by three hundred horsemen, defeated, destroyed and captured three times their number in less than an hour. Then and only then could they understand my feelings when I watched the fierce Talavera surrender their arms and the bloodthirsty San Bruno personally hand me his sword; and finally, then and only then could they understand why at that moment I cried out once more:
Now, even if death comes, it will find me content and happy, for I have lived long enough to fulfill the great object of all my vows and desires! I have a homeland once more, and its wrongs have been avenged!”
[Note at the foot of the account, L.C.] (3) Letter from O'Higgins to Don Juan Egaña, written in Lima on July 20, 1830.
Enrique Blanchard-Chessi
EL PENECA, no. 65, February 14, 1910.
In the “Chats” section, the contributor writing under the pseudonym “Lehrer” shared observations on the concept of the Homeland:
“CHATS
THE EIGHTEENTH
“Then Mother intervened and said:
—Look, children, if some foreign men came here to our house, took possession of everything and tried to boss us around, what would we do?
What would Papa do?
—He'd throw them out! Juan shouted...
—And if they refused to leave?
—He'd hit them until he drove them out, and I'd help him hit them.
—Well, children, that is what the Chileans did in 1810. That ‘chase’ began on September 18 of that year, and ever since then Chileans have celebrated it by giving thanks to God in the Cathedral and rejoicing everywhere...
—Did they really chase them out? asked Bobito, somewhat frightened... They won't come back?
—No, Bobito, they will not return, and you will always be able to say proudly: ‘I am Chilean!’”
EL PENECA, no. 252, September 13, 1913.
In 1915, the cover commemorated the national holidays with a white sculpture symbolizing “Homeland and Liberty.” In the “Chats” section, the weekly published a patriotic text under the pseudonym “Maricielo,” titled “To September 18 (For My Beloved Chile).”
“Sublime patriotism of the Chilean heart! Glory to the brave! Hosanna to your sons, my brothers! But it was still necessary to keep climbing the glorious path; you asked for more heroes and you had them; you wanted the blood of brave men and they gave it to you to the last drop in their breasts; and in giving you their lives, they gave you the freedom so long desired, there on the immortal fields of Chacabuco and Maipo.”
Valparaíso, September 8, 1915.
EL PENECA, no. 357, September 20, 1915.
Under the pseudonym “Lammenias,” in the section “A Little of Everything,” the text “Homeland” appeared as a lyrical manifesto on the bond between native land and identity. Written in the postwar climate following the First World War and amid the centennial era of Chilean Independence, the article went beyond ordinary patriotic prose to become a reflection on social cohesion, using images of the sacred. The author fashioned a definition of the national community in which the individual rose into the collective body.
“A LITTLE OF EVERYTHING
HOMELAND
It is the common mother, the unity in which isolated individuals are merged; it is the sacred name expressing the voluntary fusion of all interests into a single interest, of all lives into one perpetually enduring life. And that fusion, fertile source of inexhaustible benefits, principle of a continuous progress impossible without it—that fusion whose effect is to increase indefinitely the power of preservation and development, productive energy, security and prosperity...”
LAMMENAIS
EL PENECA, no. 642, March 7, 1921.
Along the same lines, the magazine did not avoid the most tragic episodes of the struggle for Independence. It described the execution of José Miguel Carrera in 1821. He was exalted as a martyr of Independence, his tragic end contrasted with his legacy as a symbol of patriotic struggle:
“FATHERS OF THE HOMELAND
JOSÉ MIGUEL CARRERA
First President of the Republic of Chile
At last fortune ceased to protect him, and after being defeated by vastly superior forces, he was vilely betrayed by some of his own men and delivered to his enemies.
Taken prisoner to Mendoza, he was tried there as a bandit and led to the scaffold on September 4, 1821. He died with the composure and proud bearing of a brave soldier. His enemies have tried in vain to throw the mud of slander upon the memory of this illustrious Chilean. Posterity has done him justice; and now in Chile his name is venerated as that of the first revolutionary of the glorious era of Independence.”
EL PENECA, no. 669, September 12, 1921.
During President Arturo Alessandri Palma's second period in government, El Peneca published a text in his own hand titled “The Concept of the Homeland.” He wrote it especially for the magazine. In keeping with nationalist rhetoric, the discourse reinforced the idea of the homeland as civic union, exalting values such as institutional loyalty and social progress associated with the government:
“His Excellency Don Arturo Alessandri P.
Portrait dedicated by the President to our magazine
THE CONCEPT OF THE HOMELAND
...In these difficult moments of new directions and new demands, all of us who play a role, great or small, in the affairs of the Homeland must be prepared, like him, to sacrifice our lives for collective ideals. In these stormy times we must know how to gather beneath the common aspiration of sacred love for the Homeland, that supreme identity which some believe will disappear and which I, on the contrary, proclaim immortal. As long as there is a heart that breathes, as long as there is a mind that vibrates, there will always be a citizen who loves his homeland; for the Homeland is nothing other than the supreme expression of the community, the vibration of individual feelings brought together by traditions, beliefs, common interests, affections and ideals that form the best and most notable part of our being.
I am not defending a selfish Homeland; I defend the true Homeland, the one we all felt in our mothers' arms, the Homeland we received from our elders, the one which I, gentlemen, have the imperative duty to preserve intact, and which intact I shall deliver to those who come after me.”
EL PENECA, no. 670, September 19, 1921.
The murder of guerrilla fighter Manuel Rodríguez was attributed to betrayal and envy inherent in the human condition. This representation of Rodríguez as a victim of base human passions rather than political conflict reflected a moralizing view of history common in the patriotic narratives of the period:
“It is said that on one occasion [this refers to Manuel Rodríguez's final imprisonment, L.C.], Rudimento Alvarado, excusing himself before O'Higgins, may have said: ‘I promise Your Excellency that if Rodríguez falls into my hands again, he will trouble the government no more...’
...Posterity, doing proper justice to his valuable services, erected a monument to him on the very site where he was murdered. It was inaugurated on May 26, 1863, and bears the following inscription:
The hero never dies!
The hand that strikes him
writes his name upon an immortal page,
and the martyr-hero lives on in glory.”
Elvira Santa Cruz
EL PENECA, no. 878, September 14, 1925.
EL PENECA, no. 2022, September 13, 1947.
“Roxane” wrote a fictional story based on historical events of the Independence period, illustrated by Atria, recounting the courage of a boy who joined the struggle against Spanish rule. The young man, named “Valentín,” fought alongside Manuel Rodríguez and lived in the home of Javiera Carrera, sister of José Miguel Carrera. This pedagogical fiction turned a child into a hero, bringing the national epic closer to young readers:
“THE STANDARD-BEARER OF THE HOMELAND
Manuel Rodríguez arrived shortly afterward at the ‘Parrot Inn’ and, embracing Señá Remedios, Valentín's happy grandmother, exclaimed:
—Señá Remedios, there may be heroic and patriotic men in Chile, but nowhere on earth could one find a boy more manly or more courageous than your Valentín.
—There is another, and that is you, my general—Valentín Moscoso replied, snapping to military attention before the founder of the Hussars of Death.”
ROXANE
EL PENECA, no. 2022, September 13, 1947.
For the national holidays El Peneca narrated the adventures of Independence heroes in colonial times and their courage in fighting a better-equipped army. The historical tale “Long Live the Homeland!”, illustrated by Poirier, recounted how Manuel Rodríguez, although working behind the lines, joined his compatriots in preparing the final offensive to free Chile from monarchical rule. The text emphasized local ingenuity in the face of the royalist fighters' superiority and transformed resistance into a collective heroic act, in which tactical withdrawal was the step preceding liberation. The magazine turned national history into an epic adventure in which every child could imagine taking an active part in the struggle for freedom.
“LONG LIVE THE HOMELAND!
An Adventure of Manuel Rodríguez, Hero of Chilean Independence
—General Mariano Osorio, who restored royalist government in Chile after the disaster of Rancagua—Don Pedro said—did not intend to bear down too heavily on the patriots. But Ferdinand VII and Viceroy Abascal of Peru harassed him with categorical orders. To satisfy them, Osorio was forced to persecute the supporters of liberty with extreme cruelty. Vicente San Bruno assisted him with murderous delight. In his rooms operates the Tribunal of Public Vigilance and Security, a kind of Inquisition.
—I am Manuel Rodríguez. I have come to free my homeland, and I want to see Marcó del Pont.
The lame peasant straightened himself, leaped toward the shadows and was swallowed by them. By the time the soldier reacted, the point of his bayonet found only air still trembling with mocking laughter.
And that was the first news the royalists had of Manuel Rodríguez's presence in Chile. Inspired by him, the sacred cry of Independence would rise again:
—Long live the homeland!”
EL PENECA, no. 2075, September 18, 1948.
The theme of Independence heroes and their national prominence intertwined with the presentation of historical events, which highlighted patriotic symbols such as the flag, the national anthem, the uniform and the national colors of white, blue and red:
“Heroes, men! Brave and battle-hardened,
of whom the homeland is proud;
men who always stood erect beneath
the sword's edge and the cannonball.
Your serene breasts you offered,
from your blood a river formed;
and everything you proudly gave
forged freedom for your Homeland.”
EL PENECA, no. 1764, September 12, 1942.
“YOUTHFUL POEMS
HEROIC
My flag, sacred tricolor,
holy banner of O'Higgins and Carrera,
unfurls its splendor to the wind this day.
Amid the bullets it was the first
to exalt with honor
the sacrifice of the whole Homeland's Glory.”
Luis Reyes Elías
The Chilean flag was exalted as a symbol and reminder of patriotic values:
“TO MY FLAG
If you knew how much I love you,
little tricolor flag;
you are like a ray of sunlight,
you are everything to me!
Since first I saw the light
within your fertile embrace,
I have not ceased for a second,
O Flag, to think of you.
Your beautiful silver star
lights our path
and points toward the destiny
that through you we shall attain.”
FRANCIA
EL PENECA, no. 2022, September 13, 1947.
“CHILE!
I love my flag,
that tricolor flag.
And I adore my lands,
where my love is born.
My flag fills me
with pride and courage.
And when I pronounce ‘Chile!’
I pronounce it with honor.
Chile, sacred land,
idealized by God.
By everyone you are loved
with the purest love.
Chile, cradle of my years,
watchtower of liberty,
you are my noble shield.
Today, on your glorious feast
of September 18,
with my verse and humility,
with all my soul, I salute you!”
Mario Hayvar Cárcamo
EL PENECA, no. 2075, September 18, 1948.
Among the central components of the patriotic message, the Naval Battle of Iquique, fought on May 21, 1879, became an annual commemorative date. The background to the conflict went back to January 1873, when the Peruvian government enacted a law prohibiting the sale of state-owned nitrate lands to foreigners.
Three years later, in 1876—twenty-nine years before El Peneca's appearance—Peru and Bolivia, countries bordering Chile, signed a secret defensive alliance treaty committing each to support the other in the event of war with Chile. This pact gave rise to the Peru-Bolivia Confederation.
In February 1878, the Bolivian National Assembly passed a law imposing a tax on nitrate and railway companies in Tarapacá, then Bolivian territory. Among those affected was Chilean businessman Agustín Edwards Ossandón, paternal grandfather of Agustín Edwards Mac-Clure and co-owner of El Peneca, and a partner of the British firms Melbourne Clark & Co. and Gibbs & Co. This tax dispute precipitated Chile's military occupation of the contested territories, an event that would shape the region's future and which, years later, the magazine itself would address in its pages.
War was officially declared on March 23, 1879 by national proclamation. At the same time, Chile blockaded the port of Iquique. The first confrontation occurred days later in Calama, then Bolivian territory, between Chilean troops and the Peru-Bolivia confederation.
On May 21, 1879, during the Naval Battle of Iquique, Chile suffered a tactical defeat. The episode was remembered for the heroism of Captain Arturo Prat Chacón, who before dying exhorted his men: “Board her, boys! Let every brave man follow me!”
The conflict culminated on February 17, 1880 with the capture of Lima. After victory, Chile annexed the provinces of Arica and Antofagasta.
Issue no. 26 (May 17, 1909) of El Peneca focused exclusively on the War of the Pacific. Enrique Blanchard-Chessi wrote an essay in fifteen sections (I-XVIII), combining historical prose, heroic verse, illustrations, reproductions of works of art such as E. Martino's “The Last Moments of the Esmeralda,” and photographs of combatants, families and the people of Valparaíso.
The cover image showed a celestial figure illuminating the combatants, with the legend: “The Immortality of the Heroes of Iquique.” In the hymn “To the Heroes of Iquique,” Prat appeared as a symbol of courage for confronting the powerful Peruvian Huáscar with the weaker ship Esmeralda. A hymn was dedicated to Carmela Carvajal, Prat's widow:
“Hymn to the Heroes of Iquique
Dedicated to Mrs. Prat, Widow
Chorus
Eternal glory to the battle of Iquique,
bloody, fierce, unequal struggle,
such as the centuries had never witnessed,
which gave Chile immortal renown!
The armored sea-monster falls
upon a frail and graceful water nymph;
Esmeralda sees her star and, proud,
defies Huáscar and confronts the fight.
Prat, raising the unconquered flag,
swears and commands that it never be lowered,
that with it they go to martyrdom, to the abyss,
and in saving it, save the Homeland.
He gives the electrifying cry: ‘Board her!’
he leaps onto Huáscar, resolute and bold;
after him leap Serrano and Aldea,
and to the Homeland they give their lives.
Radiant Prat rushes toward the helm,
he wants to smash the monster upon the shore;
but a treacherous bolt strikes him dead...
he falls... and rises triumphant, immortal.
Uribe flies forward and seizes the banner
that is Prat's bloodstained shroud;
he wraps himself in its folds, impassive,
and stands awaiting death.
And as he sinks with it into the abyss,
‘Long live Chile!’ cries the tricolor;
from the depths of the sea, ‘Long live Chile!’
Riquelme's cannon answers.
“APOTHEOSIS
‘Glory to Prat!’ cry out in heaven
Blanco, Cochrane, the spirits of the sea;
‘Glory to Prat!’ the oceans thunder;
‘GLORY!’ the world demanded, ‘GLORY to Prat!’
‘GLORY!’ Chile answers and acclaims him,
‘Savior of the Homeland! IMMORTAL!’”
JACINTO CHACÓN
EL PENECA, no. 26, May 17, 1909.
That same month, a “Literary Competition” was announced for young people as a “Tribute on the Anniversary of the Epic of Iquique.” These pedagogical initiatives sought to reinforce historical memory through students' active participation, turning the patriotic narrative into a literary exercise:
“LITERARY COMPETITION DEDICATED TO STUDIOUS YOUTH
In Tribute on the Anniversary of the Epic of Iquique
“In offering an extraordinary double issue on the anniversary of May 21, we have wished studious youth to be able to contribute their tribute and intelligence to so just a homage. We have therefore resolved to open for that purpose a literary competition whose incentives shall be, more than any prize, the incentives of triumph and the satisfaction, as Chileans, of commemorating through one's own effort the anniversary of the achievement of Chile's most beautiful glory.”
EL PENECA, no. 25, May 10, 1909.
Hernán Díaz Arrieta won first prize in “Literary Compositions” with a text that justified the occupation of Bolivian territory and exalted popular patriotism. Here is the prize-winning passage:
“Literary Competition
LITERARY COMPOSITIONS
Causes of the War of the Pacific
(First Prize)
The outrage had reached its height and the crisis had to come: the most solemn commitments had been mocked, arbitration had been rejected, peaceful means had been exhausted... And the Chilean popular soul boiled with righteous indignation, demanding vengeance.
Only then did that government, remembered for its wisdom and extreme prudence, abandon a policy of peace that had been rendered impossible and order the occupation of the port of Antofagasta.
This occurred on February 14, 1879, the very day on which the iniquitous auction of the great Chilean nitrate company was to take place.
Two months later Peru threw off the mask behind which it had performed a hypocritical comedy of friendship and confessed its secret treaty with Bolivia.
Thus began the War of the Pacific.”
HERNÁN DÍAZ URRIETA
(Jacobo Téllez Ponce)
EL PENECA, no. 39, August 16, 1909.
Within this context the magazine published texts by survivors, such as “Luis Uribe's Letter on the Naval Battle of Iquique,” recounting how the sailors of the Esmeralda never considered abandoning the fight, even in the face of imminent defeat. These direct testimonies, rich in documentary value, reinforced the patriotic cult of naval heroism:
“MR. URIBE'S LETTER ON THE BATTLE OF IQUIQUE
“For a moment the Huáscar ceased fire, as if giving us time to reflect and surrender; it did nothing but prolong our agony, since no one thought of lowering the flag that flew from the mizzen peak.”
Luis Uribe
EL PENECA, no. 78, May 16, 1910.
The same epic moved out to sea. Among the survivors of the Naval Battle of Iquique was Dr. Cornelio Guzmán, surgeon aboard the corvette Esmeralda on that decisive day and, years later, head of the army medical service. In the text “The Between-Decks of the Esmeralda in the Battle of May 21 (Account of a Survivor),” published on May 16, 1910 (issue no. 78), he recounted the most dramatic moments of the confrontation between the Esmeralda and the Peruvian Huáscar. In vivid and harrowing detail, he described the combatants fighting with inexhaustible ardor, falling one by one into a sea stained with death and horrific slaughter, and recovered a conviction that transcended death itself: “To give one's life in defense of the homeland was the least of sacrifices.” With this phrase, the account not only honored the courage of the fallen but transformed sacrifice into an act of pure devotion.
In 1915, Benjamín Oviedo (“Magister”) associated the patriotism of the combatants at Iquique, in the “Chats” section, with virtues such as honor and loyalty. In his writing he exalted the dignity of those in uniform, whom he credited with a heroic attitude toward life:
“CHATS
MAY 21
And the hero of Iquique fulfilled that duty calmly, without avoiding it, without evading it, without seeking a door through which to escape its presence. And the duty he fulfilled—how terrible it was! Fulfilling that duty meant his death!”
MAGISTER
EL PENECA, no. 340, May 24, 1915.
Alongside the survivors were the fallen. Among the articles on the Naval Battle of Iquique appeared a testimonial text: the story of Luis Cruz Martínez, a sixteen-year-old who became a second lieutenant. It noted that no details of his childhood were known, but that an adoptive mother, Martina Martínez de Franco, raised him. Cruz Martínez distinguished himself academically and, when the War of the Pacific broke out, joined the conflict to defend Chile. He died as a brave soldier who never abandoned the fight, and his example made him a symbol of youthful sacrifice, emphasizing his courage as a model for new generations.
“HEROES OF THE PACIFIC
LUIS CRUZ MARTÍNEZ
Second Lieutenant, Chacabuco, 6th of the Line
Some cholos, seeing how gallant he looked, shouted to him:
‘Surrender, officer! We will spare your life!’
But the Chilean officer answered by ordering his men to fix bayonets, and with those bayonets they replied to their enemies' threats. He went out into the square; behind him came the final four soldiers remaining of the seventy-seven who had formed the garrison. And there, one after another, they died killing, engulfed in a horrifying vortex of lances, rifles and clubs raised by the hundreds above their heads. Their corpses, riddled with mortal wounds, remained in the middle of the square as living proof of what the spirit of Chile's heroic soldiers could achieve.
Second Lieutenant Cruz was found in the very center of the Plaza de la Concepción, his hands destroyed by a stubborn hand-to-hand fight.
...Such was the passage through this world of the boy Luis Cruz Martínez. Born in obscurity, he appeared in the sky like a shooting star: he shone for an instant and vanished beyond the horizon, leaving behind a luminous trail. But the memory of this star has remained indelible.
The image of Luis Cruz has passed into bronze; for that reason, on October 8, 1912, the city of Curicó, birthplace of the hero, erected a statue to him.”
EL PENECA, no. 660, July 11, 1921.
“CONTRIBUTION
(Dedicated to A.U.M.)
Forty years ago, a multitude inflamed with patriotism, amid columns of smoke and the thunder of cannon, climbed the Morro, triumphantly carrying the Chilean flag and, with wild enthusiasm and the deafening cry ‘Long live Chile!’, planted it upon the highest summit.
‘Hail! O sovereign of these lands!’ answered the sea, caressing the Morro. ‘Hail! Glorious tricolor!’ repeated the wind, setting the beloved flag of our Homeland to flying.”
BLANCHETTE
Arica, October 1925.
EL PENECA, no. 894, January 4, 1926.
The writings published in connection with May 21 focused exclusively on patriotic feeling and on a collective, glorious narrative of the nation:
“O Chile! noble emblem of sacred patriotism.
Your Homeric legend is a poem of epic glory.
At the victorious stride of your centaurs,
who everywhere harvested laurels,
all America acclaimed you in delirium!
The noble gallantry of your sons,
always great in all things,
is the faithful tradition of that indomitable, brave race
whose pride equaled the Andes.
This sacred soil,
for which the noble soldier gave his blood,
shall never see its emblems depart;
for while there is a breast with breath,
it will know how to fight, proudly, against a hundred,
until it falls at the foot of your banners.
If the enemy invades the frontier,
in its predatory obsession with vandalism,
seeking to avenge old resentments,
bearing your flag as their device,
your sons will repeat with heroism
the feats of the Morro and Miraflores.”
EL PENECA, no. 722, September 18, 1922.
The Chilean Navy appeared as one of the institutions most faithful to and entrusted with the nation's purest values, watching over the country's honor, sovereignty and higher destiny:
“YOUTHFUL POEMS
CHILE
When I look upon your sky
and admire your mountains,
and wander along the rivers, fields and beaches,
I do not know how to sing to you, and I admire you, my homeland.
This blessed land of my ancestors,
that infinite sea, that starry sky,
those men so strong whom you yourself have formed,
those beautiful women and those brave soldiers.
And that is why I cannot find the way to sing of you,
because you are so great, so immense and beloved,
because you are the long, narrow strip we are taught about,
because now you stretch from Arica to Antarctica.”
Mirella Castro.
EL PENECA, no. 2028, October 25, 1947.
During Elvira Santa Cruz's editorship, the magazine commemorated May 21 each year, the Day of Naval Glories, a landmark date in Chilean identity. Schools encouraged students to write essays, poems and short accounts about the Naval Battle of Iquique.
The compositions in El Peneca, in schools and across the media reproduced a traditional patriotic discourse with a largely uniform narrative. Chile dressed for celebration on that date. In Valparaíso, children eagerly awaited the naval parade while the streets filled with little flags in the three national colors.
Floral offerings honored the fallen soldiers, whose monument rose in Valparaíso's Plaza Sotomayor, facing the sea.
Across its pages, the magazine constructed a homogeneous and edifying account of Chilean history. The heroes of Independence—O'Higgins, the Carrera brothers, Manuel Rodríguez—and Arturo Prat were presented as almost immaculate figures, whose political controversies were attributed to external causes or base human passions, avoiding deeper examination of internal conflicts or ideological differences. Even in the most tragic episodes, such as the execution of José Miguel Carrera or the murder of Manuel Rodríguez, the narrative leaned toward the exaltation of the martyr and condemnation of ingratitude or betrayal rather than toward critical historical analysis.
The repeated selection of key dates—1810 (First National Government Junta), 1818 (Declaration of Independence) and 1879 (beginning of the War of the Pacific, together with Arturo Prat, a captain in the Chilean Navy)—created a civic calendar linking the independence-era past with the present and projecting Chile as a young, victorious nation on the rise. This calendar ritualized patriotism among its readers, who learned to venerate the same dates, heroes and symbols as the country's teachers and authorities.
The emphasis on military history and patriotic heroes reflected the mentality of an era in which Chilean identity rested on myths of heroism and national unity. Military valor, love of the flag and sacrifice for the homeland were presented as unquestionable civic duties, with “giving one's life for the homeland” as the highest honor. This implicit teaching was reinforced through testimony from survivors, such as those of the Naval Battle of Iquique, and stories of young heroes such as Luis Cruz Martínez, offering readers models of conduct with whom they could identify.
El Peneca taught that history was a story of sacrifice and redemption, in which the homeland was built upon the blood of its heroes and every citizen, however young, had an unavoidable duty to the nation. The phrase “Board her, boys!”, with which Commander Prat met his death, immortalized his sacrifice and helped forge an imagined community of Chileans united by a common past and shared destiny, thereby contributing to the consolidation of national identity.
During the editorships of Blanchard-Chessi and Emilio Vaisse, published photographs reflected gender stereotypes and nationalist values: girls appeared in formal dress, emphasizing elegance and femininity, while boys were portrayed in uniform, associated with discipline, order and patriotism. This visual difference reinforced social roles and the idea of service to the homeland from childhood onward.
The inclusion of politicians, artists, military men and other public figures formed part of an effort to introduce readers to Chilean elites and rulers. The publication of events such as First Communion reinforced the bond among religion, tradition and homeland.
In El Peneca, gender roles remained clearly defined throughout the magazine's existence. Female and male stereotypes reinforced the model of the family as the foundation of social order.
Women were defined as feminine, sweet and humble beings, associated with a European physical ideal: pale skin, fine features and a slender build. During the first stage, girls were represented as bearers of a social spirit, exclusively responsible for domestic work and cooking, skilled in sewing and embroidery, while their childhood was associated with playing with dolls.
In 1908, a photograph of Conchita Larraechea Herrera exemplified the prototype of the young woman of Chile's upper class, in both clothing and manners. The girl appeared obedient, modestly dressed and adapted to the conventions of her social class. These traits made her a model of the female elite: refined, compassionate and innocent. Beneath the portrait one could read:
“From the Colegio de la Ilustración
Pretty is Conchita Larraechea Herrera,
pretty and graceful, like a fresh flower.
In the classroom she is always first,
and a model of innocence in her games.
Everyone loves her because she is always good,
because her manner is always modest,
and they shall always love her because her innocent
child's soul is filled with virtue.”
EL PENECA, no. 6, December 28, 1908.
During the struggles for Independence, women were represented in connection with a supposed “natural vocation” of femininity. In the text “The Salon in 1810: Beauty and the Dominion of Women,” Vicente Grez's tribute to Ana María Cotapos and Javiera Carrera, their role as companions to the revolutionaries was exalted: they used their beauty as a political resource and provided emotional support to the heroes. They were idealized as sources of inspiration and comfort:
“THE SALON IN 1810
The salons of 1810 were revolutionary academies in whose midst were stirred the great and fertile ideas that brought about all the wonders of Independence. In that era of sacrifices and dangers, men needed to communicate all their hopes to one another in order to keep alive the warmth of their enthusiasm and faith.
Women were the soul of those dangerous gatherings, and it must be declared in their honor that the frailty and lightness attributed to their sex never led them to commit an indiscretion. They knew how to keep grave and important secrets. It seemed that from the first moment they understood the role reserved for them in the revolution, for all their charm, all the fascination they exercised over men's spirits, was needed to keep alive the heroism of the great struggle and the resolve to die or triumph at any cost.
...The faces of many women who distinguished themselves in that era through the influence conferred by their social position, their talents and energy, their domestic virtues or the love they inspired in the most celebrated leaders are still remembered as types of supreme beauty.”
VICENTE GREZ
EL PENECA, no. 43, September 13, 1909.
“Reward for Goodness,” written by M. Teresa Mogrovejo, told the story of an orphan adopted by an impoverished woman. The narrative showed how the girl married a wealthy young man, who became her “savior and protector.” The humble woman secured her future as a reward:
“REWARD FOR GOODNESS
On learning this story, little reader, pause for a moment and reflect that whoever does good, even without expecting repayment, will in the end receive God's reward.”
TERESA MOGROVEJO C.
Santiago, 1909.
EL PENECA, no. 114, January 23, 1911.
Elvira Santa Cruz initially presented Chilean girls through femininity and intellectual curiosity. These young protagonists partially broke with the stereotypes of the era, combining feminine grace with cultural curiosity, although always within the limits of bourgeois decorum:
“CHILDREN'S LIFE
Rebequita Varas thinks of nothing but
ice cream and EL PENECA.
Rosario Subercaseaux is happy because
the year is almost over.
Teresita Stromilli is happy because she earned
a 6 in religion.
Amelita Salas has decided to spend her
vacation traveling; she will visit San Sebastián,
Santander and other places in the Mother Country.
María le Roy and Emilia Castro practice
boxing a great deal, for they do not wish to be any less
than the American girls.”
EL PENECA, no. 681, December 5, 1921.
By the end of the 1920s, women were being granted greater prominence as their participation in the workforce increased. The magazine moved from the archetype of the woman who won a man through innocence toward figures who assumed active roles: heroines, stars and protagonists who explored the public sphere.
This apparent advance contained contradictions, for independent female characters ultimately restored the traditional family order. Hollywood divas such as Greta Garbo were presented with an artificially familiar everyday quality for readers. During the 1920s, the magazine introduced female protagonists—heroines and stars—who ultimately returned to traditional roles:
“...nevertheless, Greta Garbo is not proud and never scorns friendship with her fellow workers. But her exquisite soul as a dreamy Nordic woman cannot adapt itself to the frivolous life of American stars.”
EL PENECA, no. 935, October 19, 1926.
On October 26, 1931 (issue no. 1197), the comic strip “The Jade Venus” narrated the adventures of a heroine confronting danger. The story ended with her marriage to a wealthy young American man.
On August 7, 1948 (issue no. 2069), the magazine announced the beginning of the series “Edna the Fugitive.” The synopsis described:
“EDNA Galaz, accused of theft, outlawed and homeless, flees to live in a cave in order to defend her little sister Ana against the hidden enemies who pursue her. With no protection but a black mask and her great resources of cunning and intelligence, Edna Galaz will fight until she uncovers the mystery darkening her existence.
A dramatic and gripping story that begins in our next issue and which, as the title indicates, recounts the adventures of EDNA THE FUGITIVE.”
The main plot centered on clearing Edna of the theft of which she had been accused. The protagonist used a mask to avoid recognition while investigating the unjust accusation and finding the true culprits. In the end, it emerged that the stolen jewels had originally belonged to Edna, thereby proving her innocence. Edna succeeded as a stage artist and married the theater owner.
Issue no. 1233 of July 4, 1932 included a “Women's Page” with illustrations of clothing models for the winter season—linen coats with fabric stitching and fur collars—showing that El Peneca also served as a reference point for fashion and style. The section presented the female figure in an aesthetic and ornamental role.
The comic strip “Durga-Rani, Queen of the Jungle” began publication on July 3, 1948 (issue no. 2064) and ran for a long time. It presented the life of a European woman who made the Indian jungle the setting for her struggle for justice. The protagonist had Western features and minimal clothing and emerged as leader and protector of the tribes. A female Tarzan, she was notable for her absolute command of the environment and for remaining undefeated against rival tribes.
Closely connected to these female images was Elvira Santa Cruz herself, presented as a self-sacrificing mother who lived only for her young readers:
“Thanks to Roxane's wise direction, to the care she takes so that her magazine may be beautiful and educational, and so that when it reaches the tender little hands of those children so dear to her, it may leave in some the perfume of wholesome and sacred joy; in others, the poor little ones, the comfort—the great comfort—of knowing that they have a mother and brothers and sisters who write a magazine for them and who, solely for them and because of them, sacrifice their hours of rest, while the others sacrifice the moments they would devote to play.
And this mother is Roxane, who until then was known only within the cultured social world.”
EL PENECA, no. 696, March 22, 1922.
In real life, she never married and never appeared in public with a companion; her dedication seems to have centered on her readers and charitable work. Her social life was culturally rich: she wrote books, directed other children's magazines, and had columns in El Mercurio and La Nación. She knew Chile's intellectual elite and associated with prominent artists and international cultural figures.
Although little was known about her private life, on one occasion she wrote to a friend, “Monito,” and confessed her feelings toward Arturo Alessandri Palma. The episode came in a postcard she sent while traveling in Paris, France, on June 9, 1927:
“The Lion [referring to Arturo Alessandri Palma] has forgotten me. I have not received a single line from him. Has he forgotten that Roxane was the little sanctuary lamp that never allowed the flame of her affection to go out?
Even during the happiest days of my travels, the memory of all of you was always with me. I swear to you that I have even begun to resent how constantly I think of Chile.”
In contrast with female figures, the male figure changed the course of life, governed, fought for what was right and administered justice. Photographs were printed of prominent figures from Chilean high society belonging to the political, military, artistic and intellectual elites. Male images appeared with a stoic profile and a scientific education. The man projected an image of honor and respect: educated, prepared to become a professional and to protect his future family. This editorial construction reflected the masculine ideal of Chile's early-twentieth-century elite, in which social leadership was associated with both military and intellectual virtues.
Issue no. 18 (March 22, 1909) featured a portrait of Maximiliano Valenzuela, director of the School of Dentistry. On March 14, 1910 (issue no. 69), writer Rómulo Mandiola appeared. Issue no. 314 (November 23, 1914) published photographs of José M. Molina Guzmán, Carlos A. Leyton and Francisco A. Lira, who belonged to Chile's upper class, of Basque-Castilian or European origin.
In 1910, Enrique Blanchard-Chessi wrote a biographical profile of writer Alberto Blest Gana (1830-1920), regarded as the father of the Chilean novel. The profile emphasized the origin, education and moral values of his parents as a model for young readers. Blest Gana, who had military training, married a woman of high society, thereby sealing his membership in the cultural and social elite of the period:
“NATIONAL GALLERY
Don Alberto Blest Gana
The illustrious and well-known Chilean Alberto Blest-Gana is the foremost Spanish-American novelist.
The son of a highly studious and intelligent English physician, Don Guillermo Blest, who served Chile through his science and charity, and of the distinguished Chilean lady Doña María de la Luz Gana de Blest, whose parents were originally from France, he inherited talent and spirituality.
He was born in Santiago in 1831. His lively intelligence, however, was not at first inclined toward properly intellectual pursuits, but toward the practical arts of war in defense of peace.
The Military School was the cradle of his first studies.
After some years at that institution he went to France to complete his education and studied military engineering in Paris, knowledge which, when he returned to Chile in the middle of the century, he used for the benefit of students at the Military School, where he held the chair of topography.
He still resides in France, where he always remembers and honors his homeland with beautiful novels that vividly portray our customs and carry much of the color of our land.
The first work with which he entered literature, and successfully, was El pago de las deudas, which he published in the Revista de Santiago in 1855.
That charming and simple little novel, a true reflection of our customs, was followed by a great many works of his that are always read with pleasure for their entertaining and light style.
Martín Rivas, La fascinación, El ideal de un calavera, El primer amor, Juan de Arias, Engaños y desengaños, Un drama en el campo and La aritmética en el amor are all from his pen.”
E.B-CH.
EL PENECA, no. 108, December 12, 1910.
By the mid-1920s, the representation of masculinity in children's and young adult literature underwent a significant transformation, adapting to the expectations of a new reading public. These male characters were generally young men between twenty and thirty years old, slender, fair-skinned and youthful in appearance. Their mission was to defend the weak and those who had fallen into misfortune. The protagonists possessed an idealized omnipotence: they never lost a battle, overcame every obstacle and acted in the name of justice. Athletic white bodies served as the standard, and their pasts were almost nonexistent. This phenomenon coincided with the rise of illustrated series such as “Quintín the Adventurer,” “Adventure of Two Twins,” “Zani the Landless,” “Tex the Daring Patrolman,” “Castaways of the Air,” “A Son's Heart,” “Brave Heart,” “Captain Moon,” “Son of the Superman,” “Juan de Mendoza” and “Sandar.” The construction of these characters reinforced stereotypes of hegemonic masculinity by associating moral virtue with European physiognomies.
Women appeared defined as mistresses of the home and matrons of the family. Their value lay in chastity, innocence, self-sacrifice and physical beauty, always according to a European canon.
By the late 1920s, the magazine introduced active heroines such as Edna the Fugitive and Durga-Rani. Yet the ending always returned them to marriage and the traditional order. Elvira Santa Cruz herself reflected this paradox. She was a successful editor and recognized intellectual, yet the magazine presented her as a “self-sacrificing mother” who lived only for her young readers. Women could play leading roles, yes, but only within limits that did not threaten the patriarchal order.
By contrast, the male figure operated in the public sphere. He governed, fought, administered justice and changed the destiny of the country. The heroes of young people's adventure strips—slender, fair-skinned, omnipotent young men—embodied an ideal of hegemonic masculinity in which moral virtue was associated with physical strength, courage and strategic intelligence. Unlike the heroines, these characters did not need to “return home,” because their natural place was the outside world, adventure and struggle.
Both figures shared sacrifice for the homeland, but in different ways: the man died on the battlefield—Prat, Cruz Martínez, the soldiers of the Pacific—while the woman sacrificed private life, anonymity or personal happiness in the silence of the home or in charitable works. The hero received statues and epics; the heroine, a mention beneath a photograph or a prize for “goodness.”
This construction of gender in El Peneca performed a social function: it gave Chilean girls and boys clear models of behavior, contributed to national cohesion and transmitted values of order and hierarchy. Yet it also imposed rigid limits that the magazine's own contradictions—a powerful female editor, runaway heroines, intellectual women—could not conceal.
The word “roto” first appeared around 1541 in the Viceroyalty of Peru as a derogatory nickname. In opulent Lima, people used the term to mock the appearance of Spaniards who, after spending time in the distant Captaincy of Chile, returned in ragged clothes and frayed fabrics. Over time, the term crossed the mountains back into Chile.
The term “roto” was reclaimed by Chilean society as an emblem of the strength and identity of the common man who forged the nation. These men were peasants, workers and soldiers who, often poorly equipped and dressed in worn uniforms, compensated for their shortages with ingenuity and daring. The iconic image represented them in a barracks cap, frayed jacket, patched trousers, old shoes and carrying a rifle.
For educated Chilean society, highly stratified since colonial times, “the roto” represented the simple lower-class man of mixed ethnic origin. In this context, Humberto Pérez Montt's text “The Gañán,” subtitled “A Study of Customs,” idealized the humble man of the Chilean people: hardworking, simple, a day laborer and proud of his social condition. Pérez Montt described him as a laborer who embraced his destiny with dignity:
“A Study of Customs: The Gañán
The symbol of the Chilean people is the roto; the peón gañán, the day laborer, is the true roto. For who better plays the part of the roto than the gañán? He has habits peculiar to himself and no one else. Of average height, he can be called neither tall nor short; his build is solid, with sinew predominating; his complexion is sun-browned, if that is the proper word; his head is protected by a thick growth of black, bristling hair, touched only once every three months by the barber. His face, where handsome and intelligent eyes shine, is pleasant and full of kindness. His body is agile and easy in its movements, stamped with a very pronounced martial bearing.
More than anything, he is characterized by his clothing. At work his dress is extremely simple: a shapeless hat of unknown color covers his head; an earth-colored shirt conceals his sturdy body, though not his chest, where one sees a saint's medal hanging from his neck on a dirty string; his trousers, rolled up to the knees, are held by a sash made from flour sacks, in whose folds can be seen the indispensable knife for cutting watermelons; his feet display the valued chalalas, which are nothing more than sandals by another name. We see him with his favorite tools: pick and shovel.
His Sunday clothes are characterized by the starch lavishly applied to his clean shirt and splendid coat, and above all by the brightly colored manta which, carefully folded, sits very smartly and matches the silk handkerchief he wears around his neck like a tie. On that day he also puts on his ceremonial sash, now colored and fringed at the back; indeed, he wears his coat short precisely so that the sash may be seen. His hat has güaras and costs twenty reales.
His life is divided among work, home and the playing field.
At work he is firm as an oak, and without flattery it can be said that there are none—or very few—who can work with the tenacity he shows in completing his task. One should see them: bent over, never raising their eyes, cursing and cursing for hours and hours until the assigned work is finished. Then they breathe, then they look around, then they live in this world; everything had been alien to them except the work. That is why gañanes are not talkative; they adapt their lives so thoroughly to work that their verbosity awakens only when summoned by a little horn of liquor.
His family is almost always numerous, and it is a sight to see the crowd of plump, vigorous youngsters amusing themselves by playing in the dirt while the mother washes beside a trough and watches the little one, who sits on a crate playing with a wet shoe...”
EL PENECA, no. 43, September 13, 1909.
Benito Rebolledo Correa (1881-1964) was a central figure in the transition of Chilean painting from the nineteenth to the twentieth century. His story was that of talent emerging from a poor rural environment and triumphing through determination and natural ability. At the School of Fine Arts, the teaching of Pedro Lira and Juan Francisco González proved crucial. González encouraged him to paint en plein air, which would define his work. Contemporaries considered him the great painter of Chilean light. Rebolledo's works, often landscapes, scenes of everyday customs and portraits, were bathed in vibrant light. He sought to capture the general impression of a scene, the warmth of the sun and the richness of color. This brought him close to the Impressionism that had developed in Paris from the mid-nineteenth century onward, although he always retained a realist foundation. In addition to the National Art Prize in 1959, he won numerous awards throughout his career. Rebolledo was one of the major artists and intellectuals of the first decade of the twentieth century. A revealing example appeared in a 1910 essay written by Enrique Blanchard-Chessi, in which the editor presented him as a “son of the people,” a “roto.” The stereotype exalted supposed innate simplicity and spontaneity while denying him the “intellectual stability” deemed necessary to rise within Chile's rigid social hierarchy. Rebolledo had already achieved indisputable national recognition through his paintings. The narrative of the good-natured roto cracked before the reality of an established artistic genius. Thus the text itself became evidence of how talent and success could sometimes prevail and force society to rewrite its rigid social scripts:
“NATIONAL GALLERY
Rebolledo
The artist Benito Rebolledo is the most perfect type of our race. He is a son of the people and possesses all the distinctive characteristics of our roto: good-natured and brave, all heart, noble and innocently wary, always simple and always great in his guileless simplicity, generous and spontaneous.
Although he is more heart than brain, he has instinctive flashes of insight, intense sparks like lightning that dazzle...
Rough, and rather short, with a copper-colored face, prominent nose, thick intensely black sideburns, muscular and genuinely solid, he appears thirty-five years old and resembles a wild animal; but his gaze is gentle, fixed and dreamy, and his thick, well-defined lips are always innocently smiling...
He then entered a night school of drawing and received lessons from Don Lizandro Barrenechea for eight months. Soon afterward he went out to interpret the art of the countryside in the company of painter Juan Francisco González, felt himself to be an artist and sought inspiration.
He presented a small painting, Sin pan, at the Fine Arts Salon and was applauded; he continued presenting canvases full of originality and feeling and received honorable mentions and prizes.
He painted Por sus frutos los conoceréis, Principio social, Degeneración, Humanidad, Idilio, La risa del mar and so many others, arriving now at his praised canvas currently exhibited in the Salon, Ante el mar.
Today Rebolledo lives in a dream of happiness and glory: he lives for art, and art, which he feels and conceives in a wholly original way, is his happiness and will be his immortality.”
EL PENECA, no. 101, October 24, 1910.
E. B-CH.
In 1923, the magazine published a review of a sculpture by Virginio Arias that omitted both the artist's name and the work's original title, Héroe del Pacífico (Hero of the Pacific). Virginio Arias was born in Ránquil, Chile, on December 8, 1855. The son of peasants, he displayed artistic talent from childhood and received support to study art and restoration, revealing prodigious ability: in 1873 he entered the Academy of Painting and Sculpture in Santiago. Arias arrived in Paris in 1875 and in 1882 received an honorable mention for the sculpture Hero of the Pacific at the Paris Salon, the most important institution of French art and culture. In France, the work received one of the most important distinctions ever awarded to a Chilean artist, but in Chile it was renamed El Roto without his consent. The monument was moved to Plaza Yungay in Santiago, contradicting the work's original purpose of honoring the brave soldiers of the War of the Pacific rather than “El Roto,” as it is still known today. The text described the figure physically as a humble man of mestizo features and determined posture. The review exalted his willingness to die for the homeland “under superior orders,” glorifying sacrifice as an act of national loyalty. Arias's original intention in 1882 was to capture the soldier's dual character as an individual subject—an anonymous yet unique face—and as a symbol of collective national patriotic struggle. Chile reduced the work to a stereotype: “El Roto.” Chilean society stripped the soldiers of their historical individuality. While Arias sought to honor the anonymous combatants of 1879-1884, Chilean society transformed the artwork into a folkloric archetype, emptying it of its original historical context. Arias died on January 17, 1941 in Paris, without knowing the impact this act of cultural appropriation would have on his legacy:
“Ragged, barefoot, docile before his fate, body stern and agile, dark of skin, he stands serene in Plaza Yungay, the sure rifle held in his strong hand.
No crag is forbidden to his hardened foot; he needs no sleep; he asks no complaints about where they take him; never weary of being the symbol of this great Chilean homeland.
Neither good fortune amazes him nor contempt wounds him; long-suffering, courageous and resigned, he obeys, fights, triumphs and dies... ‘Long live Chile and the Chilean roto!’”
EL PENECA, no. 766, July 24, 1923.
The figure of the uniformed “roto” was glorified, although it was nothing more than the image of humble soldiers placing their own lives at the service of the country in exchange for a modest wage:
“Who has promised his blood to Chile
and sworn to give his life for the homeland?
The soldier.
Who never lowers his breast and with glory
emerges from every battle?
The soldier.
When amid pleasures everyone
lives without a care, who watches, fights and dies?
The soldier.
Who with his own hands defends the laws and the state from anarchists and tyrants?
The soldier.
Oh, sacred mission! Sublime!
Who, silent and self-sacrificing, goes to battle and redeems us?
The soldier.”
EL PENECA, no. 861, May 18, 1925.
In contrast with these official discourses, poet Bernardino Guajardo portrayed in Poesías Populares (Popular Poems, 1885) the tragic fate of veterans who returned disabled from the War of the Pacific. While society celebrated the hero on the battlefield, Guajardo denounced the hypocrisy of a system that abandoned those veterans in peacetime, reducing them to begging and state neglect:
“ALMS FOR THE MUNICIPALITY
Suppose there is a soldier
disabled by the war;
what can he do in this holy land
when he finds himself unable to work,
and instead of being rewarded
he receives no assistance at all,
so that he lives
as unhappy as Adam,
and even asking for a piece of bread
is forbidden to the poor man.
Sad it is to see a veteran
who cannot work
and cannot earn
his sustenance by his own hand;
if he asks a sovereign,
in a voice moved by feeling,
for a bite of food,
he is given this answer:
Today he deserves imprisonment,
he who asks for alms.”
This tension reflected the ambiguous relationship Chile’s elite maintained with the poorer classes: although they were recognized as an essential part of national history and an emblem of popular culture, they were expected to accept with stoicism the place that “God” had assigned them. Even in 1944, the weekly was still publishing poems that linked factory work to a kind of divine mandate, in which workers, “smiling and content,” went to the factory convinced that each person must honorably “earn his daily bread.”
“A whistle cuts through the air and wakes me from my sleep; it is the factory whistle, calling us to work.
I hear hurried footsteps, I see the workers pass; they go smiling and content, prepared to face the task.
By the law that God has given, each must honorably earn his daily bread.”
EL PENECA, no. 1849, April 24, 1944.
The 1973 coup d’état and the civic-military dictatorship that followed abruptly replaced the system of values that had prevailed for decades. The roto whom El Peneca had helped popularize—honorable, hardworking, patriotic, and proud of his humble origins—was progressively degraded until he became a radically different figure. This transformation revealed the two faces of the same elite. Editorial Zig-Zag, owner of El Peneca, was also the owner of El Mercurio, Chile’s leading conservative newspaper. While the magazine had educated thousands of children in civic and patriotic values, the newspaper, under Agustín Edwards Eastman, mounted a systematic campaign to discredit Salvador Allende’s government and actively helped create the conditions for the coup. The directors of El Peneca—Blanchard-Chessi, Vaisse, and Santa Cruz—probably never imagined that the same publishing establishment would later sponsor those who would burn archives and destroy the cultural world they themselves had helped to build.
In post-coup Chile, the neoliberal model promoted the exaltation of individual merit, consumerism, and economic deregulation, generating new forms of inequality. Collective effort and the dignity of work gave way to ruthless competition and accumulation as values in themselves. In this context, a new derogatory figure emerged in the imagination of the upper and middle classes: the flaite. Unlike the roto, who could be an object of both contempt and patriotic veneration, flaite is an exclusively pejorative term, associated with vulgarity, the transgression of social norms, and the abandonment of public education. Beneath the term lies an unforgiving class judgment: the poor person is no longer the roto who fights for the homeland, but someone perceived as dangerous or contemptible.
This transformation reveals a fracture in Chilean society. The old hierarchical order, however unjust it was, at least recognized the poorer classes as an essential part of the nation. The dictatorship and the economic model that prolonged its legacy dissolved that symbolic compact. In dominant discourse, the roto ceased to be the anonymous hero of the War of the Pacific and became a flaite to be feared or despised. The dictatorship swept away that old world without offering a dignified replacement. The transition to democracy consolidated, rather than corrected, this new symbolic order.
El Peneca and the magazines of its era were among the last witnesses to a Chile in which education, civic patriotism, and a certain idea of social harmony—hierarchical and unjust, but at least cohesive—could still find a place. Yet despite curfews, fear, and censorship, El Peneca did not disappear from its readers’ memories.
This chapter sought to collect the memories of several prominent Chileans who had been devoted readers of El Peneca in childhood. Public figures from politics, the arts, and intellectual life were selected for these interviews, which were conducted between September and November 1990.
At the time of the interviews, the participants ranged in age from 48 to 76, indicating that their contact with the magazine had taken place between the 1920s and the 1940s.
José Donoso, born October 5, 1926, in Santiago, Chile. Journalist and distinguished writer. In 1990 he received the National Prize for Literature.
Armando Jaramillo, born November 8, 1923, in Santiago, Chile. Lawyer, academic, and conservative politician belonging to the National Party. During the dictatorship he was part of the Alliance for Democracy and later joined the PPD (Party for Democracy).
Enrique Lafourcade, born October 14, 1927, died July 29, 2019, journalist and writer. He wrote Palomita Blanca, one of the most widely read novels in Chile in its day. It was adapted for film and directed by the internationally renowned filmmaker Raúl Ruiz.
Juan Radrigán, born January 23, 1937, in Antofagasta, Chile. One of Chile’s finest playwrights. In 1980 he wrote Hechos consumados, which was adapted for film in 1986.
José Balmes, born January 20, 1927, in Catalonia, Spain. He arrived in Chile with his parents, who had fled Francisco Franco’s dictatorship. Painter, intellectual, and an important figure in Chile’s visual arts.
Patricio Phillips, born August 23, 1922, in Santiago, Chile. Politician belonging to the National Party. He supported the military coup carried out in 1973 and participated politically during the military dictatorship.
María Maluenda, born March 6, 1920. Actress married to the distinguished actor Roberto Parada. Their son, José Parada Maluenda, was murdered and had his throat slit by members of the military in 1985. In 1990, María Maluenda was a member of the Chamber of Deputies for the Party for Democracy (PPD).
Gustavo Leigh, born September 9, 1920. Commander-in-Chief of the Chilean Air Force (FACH). He was one of the four generals who carried out the military coup against elected president Salvador Allende in 1973.
Jorge Ovalle, born August 5, 1928. Chilean lawyer, politician, and academic. A member of the Radical Party. After the 1973 coup d’état, he served as an adviser to Commander Gustavo Leigh. He was removed for taking a more open position than the military leadership regarding a new constitution, and he became an opponent of the dictatorship’s governing junta.
Gabriel Valdés, born July 3, 1919. He served as president of the Senate during the government of Patricio Aylwin. A long-standing Christian Democratic politician and Minister of Foreign Affairs under Eduardo Frei Montalva. The Christian Democratic Party supported the military coup, an issue that remains controversial to this day.
Abraham Santibáñez, born June 11, 1938. Journalist and university professor. After working for Editorial Ercilla, in 1977 he and his friend Emilio Filippi founded the magazine Hoy, which became one of the first opposition publications during the dictatorship. In 1990 he was appointed editor of Chile’s state newspaper La Nación.
María Antonieta Saa, born January 8, 1943. Teacher and member of MAPU (Popular Unitary Action Movement). After the military coup she fought for human rights and women’s rights. She later joined the PPD (Party for Democracy) and served as a deputy for that party.
Anselmo Sule, born January 27, 1934, in Santiago, Chile. Radical Party politician. Before the 1973 military coup, he was senator for the O’Higgins and Colchagua regions, a seat he held again in 1990. He served as a vice-president of the Socialist International at the global level.
One striking feature of the interviews was the participants’ great willingness to talk about the subject. Without exception, they remembered El Peneca as a natural part of childhood. The images remained vivid even decades later, and a sense of comfort seemed to settle over their faces. Their smiles, emotion, and enthusiasm at returning, if only for a moment, to that period of their lives revealed the important place El Peneca had occupied in their childhood experiences. The interviewees ranged in age from 48 to 76.
Memories of El Peneca as a weekly magazine.
Anselmo Sule:
“I have extraordinary and beautiful memories of El Peneca. From the time I learned to read, around 1941, until 1950, my life was connected to this publication almost every day. Merely remembering it stirs me deeply.”
José Donoso:
“I read every issue. My mother bought it every week. I also bought second-hand copies myself. My three brothers read it; we fought over the magazine, and even my cousins would go out to buy it.”
María Antonieta Saa:
“I used to wait for the deliveryman to come by so I could read the magazine before my brothers did.”
María Maluenda:
“El Peneca was a magazine that fascinated my brothers and me. There were three of us; I was the only girl and the youngest. My father worked for a state-owned company. He was the editor of a very successful sports magazine at the time called Sport. Because he worked there, he would come home with two children’s magazines: El Peneca and Don Fausto. We received them the day before they went on sale. Having the magazines right there at home was a very special privilege. I remember we would fight over them—good-naturedly, I mean—because there were two magazines and three of us. We argued about who would read them first; I probably won because I was the only girl and the youngest.”
Patricio Phillips:
“We waited eagerly for the magazine.”
Gabriel Valdés:
“I had the complete collection.”
Abraham Santibáñez:
“Talking about memories of El Peneca is an adventure into the past, mixed with memories of leafing through very old bound volumes that my grandparents kept in Valparaíso.”
Gustavo Leigh:
“They didn’t buy it regularly at my house. Every now and then my mother would bring it home. There were four of us brothers, but the others managed to get second-hand copies one way or another. There weren’t so many forms of entertainment then—not even radio.”
Juan Radrigán:
“The fact that we read it as a family was important; my mother read it aloud to us, so there was a double sense of harmony.”
Jorge Ovalle:
“El Peneca aroused tremendous interest. My sister Eliana and I fought over it, and we would start waiting for it two or three days before it arrived.”
Memories of characters, drawings, and stories.
María Maluenda:
“There are characters that have stayed with me ever since. ‘Quintín, the Adventurer’ is the one I remember most: he was such a good person, willing to do the most incredible things under pressure, always with a good purpose, always trying to help others. I remember that one of my brothers was nicknamed ‘Quintín’ by his friends.”
Armando Jaramillo:
“I remember the story ‘Herne the Hunter’; ‘The Man with the Horns’ was a sort of Batman with enormous horns. ‘Academy of Rogues’; among those stories I remember ‘Prim the Porter.’ And I remember Coré’s magnificent drawings.”
Juan Radrigán:
“I remember Coré’s fairy tales. There was a certain tenderness in the content: ‘Herne the Hunter,’ ‘Quintín, the Adventurer,’ ‘Ivan Joe.’”
Enrique Lafourcade:
“I remember ‘Quintín,’ ‘Juanita,’ some airplanes, some submarines. I remember the children’s poetry, the fairy tales, Coré’s covers.”
José Balmes:
“I have many memories of the magazine. It was formative; I remember Coré’s drawings, and Poirier’s. I remember the serialized stories, those dealing with strong passions. That was where I began reading the classical authors. Of course, those stories had been pirated and simplified.”
Patricio Phillips:
“‘Sinbad the Sailor’ brings back memories of princesses, wolves, and that whole world of fantasy and poetry that filled the magazine.”
Gustavo Leigh:
“The series I remember best is ‘Quintín, the Adventurer,’ because it was a whole life outside the home where the imagination could take flight. There wasn’t violence in those days; the heroes faced a specific danger. That was what the comic strips were like. I remember ‘Clever Juanita.’ There were good novels for adolescents. The comic strips with airplanes and their pilots are still engraved in my memory today. Those stories arrived week after week; I always liked them and followed them minute by minute.”
Jorge Ovalle:
“I remember my first readings very clearly: ‘The Mark of the Scorpion,’ ‘The Eye of the Cartufa’; perhaps El Peneca played a role in my reading about Valdivia, Ambrosio O’Higgins, Manuel Montt, Lastarria, Bilbao, Zañartu, Colocolo, Paula Jaraquemada, and the Carrera brothers.”
Gabriel Valdés:
“It was fantastic, original; it had stories that generated enormous interest in adventure, medieval legends, kings and princesses, stories from mythology. There were series about the Araucanians, stories of Caupolicán. The illustrator was fantastic. His name was Coré. The printing was very good for its time. It was an inexpensive magazine. It was morally clear-cut: the good people were good, the bad people were bad, nothing was murky. There were pretty girls, beautiful maidens who had to be rescued from dragons.”
Abraham Santibáñez:
“I read ‘Herne the Hunter,’ ‘Sexton Blake,’ ‘Quintín, the Adventurer,’ the story of ‘Paparrucha,’ and earlier ones as well. There were many orphans in dreadful reformatories, or couples living together in unusual circumstances. Alongside those stories was Coré’s fine, pleasing artwork. Looking at the different periods, however, I can clearly perceive the difference between a magazine with broader ambitions—the presence of Roxane was very strong in the bound volumes from the twenties and thirties—and a more conventional, almost purely adventure-oriented magazine that, toward the end of its existence in the sixties, settled into a certain French Pilote-like style.”
María Antonieta Saa:
“I remember Roxane as the director, a wise woman, a good person, full of affection for children. I remember one El Peneca cover showing Arturo Prat with a sword, in color.”
Despite the ideological differences among the interviewees—from coup leader Gustavo Leigh to left-wing playwright Juan Radrigán, and including Party for Democracy politician María Maluenda—they all remembered El Peneca with affection and emotion. Phrases such as “it stirs me deeply” (Sule), “we waited eagerly for the magazine” (Phillips), “I had the complete collection” (Valdés), and “we fought over the magazine” (Donoso, Maluenda, Ovalle) formed a common narrative: El Peneca was a shared object of childhood desire for these figures, regardless of the political paths they would later take.
This emotional consensus was significant because it showed that El Peneca achieved something few Chilean institutions have managed: it created a neutral symbolic territory where children from conservative, liberal, Radical, and left-wing families could meet. The magazine was not perceived as “right-wing” or “left-wing”; it was perceived as the magazine of Chilean children.
The interviewees vividly remembered:
Characters such as “Quintín, the Adventurer” (mentioned by Maluenda, Radrigán, Lafourcade, Leigh, and Santibáñez).
Illustrators such as Coré (mentioned by Jaramillo, Radrigán, Balmes, Valdés, and Santibáñez).
Series such as “Herne the Hunter,” “Clever Juanita,” and “Sinbad the Sailor.”
And yet no one mentioned the explicitly patriotic sections—the editorials on Prat, the poems to the flag, the biographies of national heroes. This suggests a selective memory: what endured was adventure, fantasy, and entertainment; civic education, though present, had been absorbed unconsciously.
The patriotic message.
The former readers of El Peneca interviewed here belonged to different schools of thought, and their cultural and political prominence often placed them in absolutely opposing camps. Yet identification with the national symbols transmitted by the weekly remained, even at the time of these interviews, a fundamental part of how they defined themselves as Chileans.
Readings on this subject did not command their primary attention; nevertheless, El Peneca’s sustained treatment of them helped reinforce the universe of national symbols: the flag and its colors, the national anthem, national heroes, the War of Chilean Independence, and the Naval Battle of Iquique.
María Maluenda:
“Whenever I see the Chilean flag, under any circumstances, I become emotional because I associate it with everything Chile is—with the good and the bad. I find it beautiful. The national anthem gives me a feeling of strength; I find it hard to hear the chorus without tears coming to my eyes, because the grave will belong to ‘the free.’ I cannot forget that many people dreamed of freedom, and that we once were—and I hope we will continue to be—‘an asylum against oppression.’
From my point of view, the figure of Bernardo O’Higgins is full of contradictions. On the one hand, he fought for independence, inspiring his people, the peasants of his own lands; on the other, after fighting, he went into exile. O’Higgins, as an illegitimate son, was despised by those who considered themselves more aristocratic. Yet the Military Academy bears his name while, hypocritically, refusing admission to illegitimate sons.
Arturo Prat is a symbol of someone capable of facing adverse circumstances with great courage. The contradiction is that May 21 commemorates a defeat. He gave his life defending what he believed his role to be. He does not carry the same force for me as other figures, such as the Carrera brothers, Manuel Rodríguez, and Bernardo O’Higgins.”
Armando Jaramillo:
“The flag is without question the most beautiful symbol. I’m a chauvinist, fiercely patriotic. When I see the flag abroad, I am moved to tears. Prat became a legendary figure. Let us put things in perspective: he was a lawyer, served as a naval officer, and had the worst frigate. He had a sense of honor and was brave. The figure of Prat emerged from the epic of Iquique; he united Chile against a common enemy.”
Juan Radrigán:
“Since 1973, I reject the flag. It lost all the sense of purity it had possessed until then. In the hands of the military, to me it represents a pirate flag. Arturo Prat and O’Higgins are not exactly friends of mine. Perhaps I remember Manuel Rodríguez more. It is not enough simply to be brave. Brave acts arise out of disasters. Honor, to me, is dignity. Honor is such an ancient idea. The homeland is something very maternal. It has to do with home.”
Enrique Lafourcade:
“Arturo Prat died for his convictions. He was the catalyst of the War of the Pacific. Without Arturo Prat’s death, the war would not have been won, because the country became filled with patriotic enthusiasm. O’Higgins, in his time and in the context in which he lived, understood his responsibility and gave his life to Independence.”
José Balmes:
“It is so difficult to speak about the flag, yet I cannot escape it. It has conventional elements, and I accept them. The image has multiple meanings. I take it up in order to use it, manipulate it, give it flesh—in the sense that the star becomes fire. I play with it. I step outside the rigid frame, confront reality through it, socialize it, and the farther away it becomes, the more ironic and unreal it grows; yet I always return to it.
Prat is distant; his gesture has great significance. Prat and O’Higgins have been removed from historical reality. They were men with histories, passions, anger, and hatred, as well as tremendous commitment. They were turned into stone, into marble. They should be subjects for reflection and affection on our part. We should not receive them aesthetically, as fixed and immovable figures. A homeland is inhabited by human beings; it is a particular space created through ways of relating and living.”
Patricio Phillips:
“The flag is the symbol of what the country is. A coat of arms for the soul; every good family has a face of its own. Chile does too. The flag represents the country and the country identifies with it. The flag represents honor and pride.
O’Higgins began the Republic. He is a symbol of selflessness because he abdicated and went into exile. He was the victim of a political defeat. Arturo Prat is the man of Chile’s Armed Forces. Chile has certain heroes who symbolize patriotism, who give up their lives for love of the homeland. It is a sign of courage; the homeland brings together all the country’s values in every sphere of life. It resembles everything associated with family, name, and coat of arms.”
Gustavo Leigh:
“The flag was very important. In the fifties, when we went to international events, we carried it. We were told it had been ranked second only to the ‘Marseillaise’ (France’s national anthem); one felt proud. It was a way of cultivating affection for the homeland and the flag.
O’Higgins is the founder of Chilean nationhood, a patriot who led by example. O’Higgins succeeded in forming the First Republic. He fought for the homeland and died in poverty in exile.
Prat is on a more secondary level; his was a heroic act. It had no far-reaching significance; he is celebrated as a hero. The media have elevated him.
The homeland is a concept in which nationalism, family, the flag, and the national coat of arms merge into a whole; it is identified with individual patriotism. I believe that Chileans in particular, within a Latin American context where race is the same from north to south, are able to look at the homeland serenely. I think countries without ethnic unity do not regard the homeland as we do, such as the Chinese or Koreans. Koreans, for example, have a small white population. Educational work through the schools is needed, in context, to create patriotic unity. The same is true in countries such as Colombia or Peru, which have great racial diversity.”
Jorge Ovalle:
“Even before I knew what it was, the Chilean flag always carried the meaning it has today: a symbol of national unity, something around which differences dissolve; before the flag, distinctions between poor and rich, socialist and conservative disappear. I identify the flag with peace, with the nation. I identify it with the presidents who passed through the Instituto Nacional, where I studied, with former members of parliament and my classmates.
Prat is the most distinguished hero the Republic has ever had, a great sailor. Those who inherited his legacy have distorted him. The memory of Arturo Prat is a hymn of praise and admiration for the democratic system. He accomplished something of great significance: he transformed a war into a national event. Prat possessed a consciousness of sacrifice. Before giving the order to board, he asked whether his men had eaten; he had a profound social conscience.
I have no opinion of O’Higgins. He did not understand what the homeland was. He was against us in the first stage of independence. In the end he became more Peruvian. The homeland is a binding feeling that unites a person with landscape, friends, memories, traditions, and food. Those of us who love life and are conservative feel it especially strongly. I am a patriot. I cannot conceive of life without my homeland. I am a conservative. I am a man who is at ease where his own people are. I cannot feel at home where I am a stranger; I was formed here, educated here. Everything is connected with the homeland.”
Gabriel Valdés:
“The flag is the Chilean landscape. It lies stretched across the sea. It is not an invented flag. Its colors are deeply Chilean; more than a warlike flag, it is a rodeo flag, a popular flag, a flag of country festivities.
Prat is the best Chile has to offer. Chile signifies a remarkable civic life. He was a lawyer; he believed in elections and democracy. The tradition that formed him was that of a great gentleman, a great sailor. He is the symbol of a personality who galvanized the country; his is the act of a Chilean who happens to be a sailor.
O’Higgins was an admirable man; he knew he had power, but did not seek to bend the country to his will. He possessed tremendous courage and bravery. His great gesture was his abdication. The homeland is strong. The country is fairly chauvinistic. Chileans harbor a certain sense of superiority. I am satisfied with Chile, with Chilean things. There is nothing better than Chile; of course, this is partly because our country is isolated, insular without enjoying any of the advantages of an island. It has an immense sea. That has made us rather like the English; the Chilean elite is more European than Latin American. The sun sets early in Chile. Folklore remains enclosed within itself; this is not a country of great migrations. Italians and Germans become more Chilean than Chileans themselves. Chileans have a strong character shaped by their homeland, their geography, their desert and mountains. Chile has a very rich history. It has the tradition of the colonial period; it is a country of war. From Puerto Montt to Arica, with no real accent differences, the sense of unity is remarkable. There is little variation in the way people live, and that makes the homeland one. The Armed Forces have contributed greatly to the historical respect accorded to it. They have been present in every town, everywhere in Chile. Historically, they have carried out a work of chilenidad—of building Chilean identity. They taught people to write, to cut hair. People asked for more police because they looked after them. This is a country of frontiers, with four centuries of strong military structures and great regiments.”
Abraham Santibáñez:
“The Chilean flag is associated with my childhood memories: September 18 in the countryside, the huasos, the fondas and cuecas, school celebrations. As an adult I have a certain moderate identification with the homeland. I say moderate because for sixteen years the military administered the homeland for me and appropriated the flag, and I did not identify with them; I felt increasingly distant from them. Even so, I still feel that the Chilean flag and other symbols, such as the national anthem, are mine—although they have been somewhat used and abused.
Arturo Prat and O’Higgins, much like the flag and the national anthem, are respectable figures, but they have been used too much, which makes it necessary to reassess them.”
The flag as a fractured symbol.
The responses concerning the flag:
Leigh, the general who participated in the coup, spoke about the flag in terms almost identical to Jaramillo and Phillips. For him, it remained an unquestioned symbol of national unity. There was no awareness in his words that the dictatorship might have stained it. This selective blindness is typical of perpetrators: their version of history did not include the horror they themselves had carried out.
The flag had been stained by the way the military used it, yet the interviewees still tried to “reclaim” it (Balmes played with it artistically, Santibáñez felt it had been “used and abused,” Maluenda was moved by it despite everything).
For Radrigán, the flag had “lost all meaning of purity.” In military hands it became “the pirate flag.” There could be no reclaiming it.
The heroes: Prat and O’Higgins as symbolic battlegrounds.
Opinions about Prat and O’Higgins revealed that these heroes functioned more as projections of the interviewees’ contemporary political positions than as stable historical figures.
For Maluenda, the figure of Prat commemorated a defeat; for Balmes, Prat had been removed from historical reality. Phillips exalted him as “the man of the Armed Forces,” while Leigh regarded Prat’s battle as “an act without far-reaching significance.”
O’Higgins, according to Maluenda, was full of contradictions. For Ovalle, “he did not understand what the homeland was,” while Balmes maintained that “they turned him into stone.”
Those who came closest to a demythologized view of the heroes were Radrigán, Balmes, and Maluenda—three people who directly suffered under the dictatorship (Radrigán as a persecuted playwright, Balmes as an exile, Maluenda as the mother of a political murder victim). Those who retained a sacralized vision were the people who supported the coup (Leigh, Phillips) or had a conservative background (Jaramillo, Ovalle).
This suggests that political trauma may have broken the childhood idealization of national heroes. The dictatorship did not only kill people: it also killed the innocence of certain symbols.
Leigh and the banality of patriotic evil.
Gustavo Leigh was the most extreme interviewee and, paradoxically, the one who most faithfully reproduced El Peneca’s patriotic discourse. He spoke of the flag as “the most beautiful,” of O’Higgins as the “founder of Chilean nationhood,” and of the need for “ethnic unity” and “educational work” to create patriotism. His discourse was indistinguishable from that of a well-schooled peneca of the 1930s.
Yet this same man ordered the “death flights.” He embodied the essence of authoritarian nationalism. Love of country became so abstract and sacralized that it could coexist with the killing of actual citizens, because in the eyes of those in power those citizens were no longer “true Chileans.”
Leigh was a product of his class and military formation, a man who learned to love the country in such an abstract and sacralized way that he could order the deaths of his compatriots without experiencing a moral contradiction.
Radrigán: the exception that proves the rule.
Radrigán was the only interviewee who explicitly broke with the patriotic narrative. He rejected the flag, downplayed Prat and O’Higgins, and preferred Manuel Rodríguez, a more ambiguous hero. His position was that of someone who had thought critically about the symbols El Peneca had handed down to him.
Radrigán remembered El Peneca tenderly: “my mother read it aloud to us.” His break was not with the magazine, but with the political use of its symbols after the coup. He managed to distinguish childhood affection from adult ideological allegiance. In that sense, perhaps, he was the most clear-sighted of them all.
María Maluenda’s testimony.
María Maluenda was the most complex and moving of the interviewees. A long-established actress and wife of the distinguished actor and theater director Roberto Parada, her life took a tragic turn in 1985 when her son, José Parada Maluenda, was murdered and had his throat slit by agents of the military dictatorship. In 1990, when I interviewed her, she was a deputy for the Party for Democracy, fighting for human rights from within the very institutions that had once been complicit in the horror.
But what made her testimony so exceptional was not the story of suffering itself, but the way that suffering coexisted with an unconditional love for the country’s patriotic symbols.
Her patriotism was a bond with the land, the culture, the history, and the people—not submission to whoever happened to hold power. When she said that the grave would belong to “the free,” she was reclaiming the anthem for those who had truly fought for freedom. When she spoke of O’Higgins as an “illegitimate son despised by the aristocrats,” she was drawing a parallel with her own story: she too had been despised by those who considered themselves superior, the same people who killed her son. By refusing to surrender the national symbols to the executioners, Maluenda wrested from them their monopoly over the homeland. Her case offered the most compelling proof of this book’s central thesis: El Peneca was a laboratory of citizenship and patriotic education. The weekly taught a little girl to love Chile; decades later, she would see her son murdered by those who had appropriated the symbols of that homeland. The love El Peneca planted in childhood proved stronger than the hatred the dictatorship tried to impose. That was the power of a culture that educated through affection.
The interviews revealed that El Peneca created a community of readers that transcended adult political differences; in childhood, they had all been penecas. Yet their memories were selective: they remembered adventure and fantasy, not explicit indoctrination, suggesting that patriotic education was more effective precisely because it was absorbed as part of the natural landscape of childhood. The dictatorship fractured those symbols: for perpetrators such as Leigh, the flag and the heroes remained intact; for victims such as Radrigán, Maluenda, and Balmes, the symbols had to be reconstructed, given new meaning, or abandoned. Maluenda and Radrigán represented two opposite responses to trauma—she reinterpreted the symbols, he rejected them—and both responses were legitimate. El Peneca provided a shared symbolic repertoire that could be used either to build democracy or to justify dictatorship. The difference lay in what adults later chose to do with it.
To understand El Peneca, it must be viewed alongside the other magazines of its time. There was an entire network of journalists, illustrators, photographers, and scriptwriters who worked for publishers such as Zig-Zag and moved from one project to another. This constant exchange of ideas, styles, and talent created what we now call the “golden age of Chilean magazines.”
There is no exact agreement on its dates, but most scholars place its peak between the 1930s and the 1960s. It was a period of creativity, professionalization, and commercial success. The industry moved from artisanal and often anonymous work to stable teams of illustrators and writers, many of whom achieved broad public recognition.
With the Compulsory Primary Education Law of 1920, literacy grew, and with it came a mass of children, young people, and adults eager for recreational reading. Alongside imported foreign material, a powerful local industry emerged, creating characters and magazines that became classics of popular culture.
The prestige of illustrators reached a high point in 1941 with the founding of the Alliance of Chilean Illustrators, whose honorary president was Walt Disney, appointed during his visit to the country.
The development that formalized this “golden age” was the creation of Zig-Zag’s Comics Department in 1962, which brought together more than forty professionals in design and graphic arts. It produced an explosion of titles and characters across the media, with a level of quality and connection with the public that Chile has never again replicated.
Among the artists who worked for El Peneca and other magazines of the period were many notable names: José Foradori, Emilio Dupré, Carlos Zorzi, Luis Fernando Rojas “Marius,” Julio Bozo “Moustache,” Raúl Figueroa Ruiz “Chao,” Manuel Guerra Urquieta, Galvarino Lee, Juan Francisco González Ramírez, Paul Dufresne, Pedro Subercaseaux “Lustig,” Emilio Álvarez, Jorge Délano “Coke,” Walter Barbier, Germán Luco Cruchaga “Whisky,” Enrique Alfonso “Osnofla,” “Leonard,” Jorge Arévalo, Benjamin Rabier, Alfredo Adduard, René Ríos “Pepo,” Raúl Manteola, Enrique Cornejo Tapia “Penike,” Fidelicio Atria Mardones, Alberto Bustos, Alcibíades Cuevas, Mario Silva Ossa “Coré,” Miguel Ángel Suárez “MÁS,” Jorge Christie Mouat, Luis Goyenechea “Lugoze,” recipient of the 1964 National Journalism Prize in the drawing category, Caro Jiménez, Elena Poirier, Alberto Lungenstrass, Abel Romero, Nicomedes Guzmán “Ovaguz,” Alberto Vivanco, Oscar Camino, Mario Igor Vargas, Lautaro and Aníbal Alvial, Themo Lobos, Renato Andrade “Nato,” Julio Berrios “Juber,” who began his career at the age of eleven in El Peneca, Humberto Pastor Rabello, Víctor Orellana, José Herrera, Avelino García, and photographers such as “K. Nanyo,” Jorge Valck, Odber Heffer, and Carlos Charlín Munizaga.
To this constellation must be added hundreds of creators whose legacy was swallowed by oblivion: photographers whose archives vanished amid institutional moves, writers who worked under pseudonyms that disappeared with them, illustrators whose originals ended up in drawers belonging to publishing houses that themselves sank into obscurity.
To illustrate this vibrant editorial atmosphere, it is worth mentioning several magazines that preceded El Peneca and others that emerged around it, together forming the graphic and narrative environment of which this weekly was the leading example.
Letras i Monos (1906–1912)
It first appeared in 1906 and lasted until 1912. As its cover stated, it was intended for an audience ranging from six-year-old children to eighty-year-old adults. This reveals the educational and recreational ambition of Chile’s earliest magazines. It included practical sections on sports, hygiene, and school subjects, alongside romances, adventure novels, and detective stories. It also offered sections on women’s topics, news about political and business figures, and art chronicles. In its first issue, in 1906, it declared that its goal was to combine entertainment and education for all ages:
“Letras i Monos is intended for schoolchildren, for their needs of education and entertainment.”
Páginas del Hogar (1912)
Its director was Teresa Florenzano. It was aimed at girls and young female readers. Its themes included good manners, how to be feminine, how to become a good mother, and how to serve the homeland. It defined a specific sphere for girls and reinforced the patriarchal feminine model of the period. In September 1912 it declared: “Only at the center of the domestic home, surrounded by her children and helping her husband bear the burdens of life, can a woman be happy.”
El Colegial (1912–1942)
Its director was Emiliano D’Alençon. Published every two weeks and printed in three-color process, it belonged to a Catholic publishing house. It contained children’s stories, short plays, graphic humor, jokes, educational pastimes, and chronicles. It was conceived as a vehicle for children’s literature with a Catholic orientation. In September 1912 it stated: “Many people—almost the majority—say that writing for children is very easy. An error, a profound error. Children’s literature is perhaps the most difficult of all; it must be easy to understand and, above all, moral.”
In 1941, under the direction of Eleodoro Caro, it adopted a patriotic approach, emphasizing nationalist education in schools. It published readers’ poetry and worked with illustrators such as Luis Fernando Rojas “Anka” and Miguel Ángel Suárez. It exalted heroic historical events. In May 1942 it declared: “Our modest goal is to raise the moral level of the family through children. To instill the feeling of honor in tender hearts. And especially the feeling of Homeland, so diminished in these difficult times, is our greatest ambition.”
El Pibe (1923–1924 and 1931)
It was first published on July 16, 1923, under the Editorial Selecta imprint. Publication ended in December 1924, although it briefly reappeared in 1931. Its first editor was José Masgrau and it was directed by H. Alzamora. Its illustrators included Carlos Espejo and, later, Fidelicio Atria Mardones.
The central character was a poor boy inspired by the protagonist of Charles Chaplin’s film The Kid (1921). His simple clothing represented the poorer children of the period. In a final attempt to keep the magazine alive, El Pibe merged with Junior, which was also short-lived. The word pibe is Argentine rather than Chilean, revealing a degree of foreign influence.
Don Fausto (1924–1964)
It appeared in August 1924 as a magazine devoted entirely to entertainment. Zig-Zag published it under the direction of Félix López Passi, who, as Olga Villalón (Elvira Santa Cruz’s secretary) told me, “preferred to remain anonymous and work collectively.” Its chief attractions were serialized novels and its dialogue with young readers. Beginning in March 1925 it adopted a larger format, similar to an evening newspaper. It always kept pace with the latest comics and prominently featured figures such as Charles Chaplin, Harold Lloyd, Larry Semon, and Oliver Hardy.
At first it was printed in color, but after one year its palette was reduced to only three tones. Its illustrators included Alfredo Bustos, Humberto Pastor Rabello, Alcibíades Cuevas, Abel Romero, Mario Silva Ossa (under the pseudonym “Higopi”), and Mario Igor Vargas. It offered serialized novels of every kind: political, romantic, adventure, and suspense. In 1958 it introduced Italian photo novels. Don Fausto continued until 1964, when it merged with Okey. Don Fausto pursued a cosmopolitan editorial line, anticipating the globalization of children’s entertainment.
Mamita (1931–1933)
It was directed by educator Amanda Labarca (1886–1975), an advocate for women’s rights, writer, politician, and ambassador. The magazine included traditional European tales such as “The Ugly Duckling,” “The Nightingale,” and “Sleeping Beauty,” alongside Chilean stories and folk legends such as “Pedro Urdemales,” “Flor Piliray,” and narratives about heroes of Independence: José Miguel Carrera, Manuel Rodríguez, and Bernardo O’Higgins.
To encourage children’s participation, it organized educational competitions, exercises using world maps, and story contests. Its illustrators included Jorge Arévalo and Alfredo Adduard. Unlike publications such as Páginas del Hogar, which reinforced women’s domestic role, Mamita, under Amanda Labarca, represented a more modern and emancipatory vision of childhood and female education in Chile.
El Abuelito (1934–1935)
This was a small-format magazine resembling a book-magazine. It was published between November 1934 and May 1935. The publication was connected to a radio program sponsored by the Hucke confectionery company, hosted by the popular doctor Luis López Rey, who played an endearing grandfather figure known as “Abuelito.” The magazine featured traditional European tales, commentary on the radio program, and a section with photographs of child readers. Because it was published by the Hucke company, the business provided strong advertising and financial support. Like El Peneca, El Abuelito devoted several pages to commercial advertisements, just as Helfmann’s Imprenta y Litografía Universo used the weekly’s popularity to insert advertising. In this way, El Abuelito and El Peneca both made use of a kind of “media convergence”: they circulated through radio, print, and commercial advertising. In truth, most children’s publications of the period did the same. It was an effective vehicle for reaching children, shaping not only their imagination but also their consumer habits.
Pulgarcito (1937–1955)
This children’s weekly, despite occasionally changing its subtitle (“The Magazine of Wonderful Stories,” “Comic Weekly,” or “Children’s Weekly”), retained its essence as a publication devoted to comics and illustrated stories. Editorial Ercilla published it in newspaper format, with sixteen color pages. Its material was of North American origin and enjoyed great popularity in Chile. Among its most prominent strips were “Popeye the Sailor,” “The Phantom,” “Mandrake the Magician,” “Prince Valiant,” “The Katzenjammer Kids,” “Henry,” “Mickey Mouse,” and “Flash Gordon,” all licensed through King Features Syndicate. It ceased publication in 1955. Unlike El Peneca, which built a narrative universe of its own with Chilean characters and writers, Pulgarcito relied on international licenses.
El Cabrito (1941–1948)
A children’s magazine published by Zig-Zag. Its first director was Elvira Santa Cruz, followed later by Henriette Morvan (“Damita Duende”). Its creators and illustrators included the brothers Lautaro and Aníbal Alvial, Fidelicio Atria Mardones, Alfredo Adduard, Luis Arce, Julio Berríos, Armando Lira, Renato Andrade “Nato,” Walterio Millar, and Hildegardo Igor Vargas (brother of Mario Igor Vargas).
From the beginning it defined itself as an educational publication, working with teachers and schoolchildren. It placed particular importance on history and included in every issue a map of a different region of Chile. Subjects were selected to familiarize children not only with Chilean history and its heroes, but also with the history of other Latin American countries. El Cabrito was a perfect example of Zig-Zag’s Pan-American and educational editorial line.
Condorito (August 1949 to the present day)
The Andean condor is a majestic bird, the largest in the world of its kind. In Chilean national iconography it represents power, sovereignty, and freedom. It is an official and exalted symbol of the state and nation. But René Ríos Boettiger, “Pepo,” created a radically different condor. Condorito was not the heraldic bird of the coat of arms, but a character who belonged to all Chileans, shaped by the idiosyncrasies of ordinary people. He personified the urban roto: mischievous, resourceful, good-hearted, and often unlucky. He reflected the joys, sorrows, humor, and struggles of everyday life.
Pepo created this anthropomorphic figure for the first edition of the magazine Okey. But before Pepo turned Condorito into an icon of Chilean popular culture, Mario Silva Ossa had already experimented with the name in a daring, short-lived project: the magazine Condorito (1949–1950). It was an editorial experiment in which Coré not only designed the covers but illustrated every interior page, with help from collaborators such as “LauFer” and Jorge Carvallo. The title itself played with typography: the final letter “o” curved like the bird’s beak.
While Coré’s version adapted classic European tales for a mixed audience of adults and children, Pepo chose a distinctly popular form of humor rooted in everyday situations. His anthropomorphic condor was expressive, genuine, and grounded in ordinary people. The magazine Condorito is a fundamental part of Chilean culture and an affectionate window onto Chilean idiosyncrasy. It is also read in Mexico, Peru, Colombia, and other countries. Condorito carried chilenidad—Chilean identity—into the realm of mass humor, demonstrating that the golden age did not merely educate and entertain: it also created popular mythologies.
Okey (1949–1965)
This magazine was devoted primarily to comics imported from abroad. Its illustrators included René Ríos Boettiger, Óscar Camino, Gian Giacomo Delmasso, Mario Igor Vargas, Luis Goyenechea, and Mario Silva Ossa. It predominantly used black and red. Zig-Zag first published it in August 1949.
Its comics included adventure stories and superheroes such as “Sexton Blake,” “Superman,” “Black Terror,” “Superboy,” and “Justice Waves”; Western series such as “Loe the Terrible,” “The Prairie Brothers,” “Red Coleman,” and “The Stranger”; and international classics such as “Tarzan” and “Flash Gordon.”
It also included melodramas for female readers and serialized adventure novels such as Emilio Salgari’s The Black Corsair.
Unlike other children’s magazines, Okey limited reader participation largely to contests. In 1964 it merged with Don Fausto and adopted a smaller format. That same year it added Western series such as “Buffalo Bill,” “Kansas Kid,” “Buck Jones,” and “Blood Booty.” Shortly before disappearing in 1965, it changed its name to Justiciero and specialized exclusively in Wild West comics.
Aladino (1949–1951)
This weekly book-magazine was published by Carlos de Vidts Ltda. under the direction of Clemente Andrade. Its principal illustrators included Alfredo Adduard, Miguel Ángel Suárez “MAS,” Jorge Christie Mouat “Melitón,” Luis Goyenechea “Lugoze,” E. Ditane “Tony,” and Caro Jiménez. Some material was created by Clemente Andrade and Héctor Arroyo. Its main distinguishing feature was that these stories were written and illustrated entirely in Chile. Clemente Andrade actively contributed to stories such as “Pilucho, the Poor Chicken” (illustrated by Jorge Christie Mouat), written in a humorous tone. Every issue included a section entitled “When I Was a Boy,” devoted to biographies of prominent personalities.
Aladino represented a third editorial path during the golden age: it was neither Zig-Zag (like El Peneca, Don Fausto, or Okey) nor Ercilla (like Pulgarcito), but an independent publisher committed to local creation from beginning to end. It is a unique piece in understanding the efforts of an independent Chilean publishing house in the mid-twentieth century.
Simbad (1949–1956)
In September 1949, the magazine Simbad appeared, directed by Elvira Santa Cruz and published by Zig-Zag. It bore the subtitle “El Peneca’s Great Friend,” reflecting its connection with the emblematic children’s weekly. Simbad was a book-magazine whose principal illustrator was Elena Poirier. Santa Cruz decided to launch it after observing the success of other low-cost magazines. It established itself as a spin-off of El Peneca, though with more limited participation by child readers. The publication was made possible largely by advertising revenue.
It printed both classic children’s literature and adventure and detective stories, as well as a variety of comics. Among the tales were “Puss in Boots,” Gulliver’s Travels, “The Steadfast Tin Soldier,” The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha, and Alice in Wonderland. Robinson Crusoe was adapted and transformed into “Rosita Crusoe.” Other stories included “The Gypsy’s Secret,” “The Secret of the Lantern,” “The Redskin’s Friend,” and “The White Sheikh’s Daughter.” Wild West comics such as “Buffalo Bill” also appeared, alongside humorous Chilean productions. Odilia Navarro contributed to some editions.
Barrabases (1953 to the present day)
This innovative sports comic magazine was created and directed by Guido Vallejos and was unique of its kind in Chile. After its resounding success, Zig-Zag took over publication and distribution. It portrayed the adventures of a group of football-loving boys who formed Barrabases F.C. (a first-division Chilean football team in the fictional world of the magazine). They lived in “Villa Feliz,” an imaginary town created by Vallejos. From 1970 to 1973, distribution was handled by Editorial Quimantú. The magazine was sold both in Chile and abroad. Renato Andrade “Nato” created new characters such as “Pituto” and “Fanatincha,” and was responsible for layout for nearly eight years.
Each issue included comics, sports news, contests, reports, stories inspired by sporting feats, and photo novels starring prominent Chilean athletes. It was printed in four colors, with dynamic visuals and accessible language for children and young readers.
Pandilla (1959)
It appeared in full color in March 1959 and disappeared on June 24 of that same year. Its chief contributor, Ester Huneeus Salas, known as “Marcela Paz,” was one of Chile’s great children’s writers and the author of Papelucho, a landmark in Chilean children’s literature. She also contributed to El Peneca. Mario Igor, René Poblete, and Abel Romero illustrated the publication. It was a humorous series whose principal character was “El Gordo Sotito,” created by the renowned Chilean cartoonist Alberto Vivanco. Published by Zig-Zag, its main objective was entertainment. Its first issue declared: “Pandilla wants neither drama nor tragedy; its intention is to entertain its readers, encourage a sense of humor, and make both children and adults laugh.”
Mampato was a Chilean comic magazine created by Eduardo Armstrong, with a main character of the same name—a boy who traveled through time—and his inseparable companion Ogú, a caveman drawn by Themo Lobos. It was published by Editorial Lord Cochrane. It quickly became a benchmark for Chilean comics because of the quality of its scripts, its commitment to science fiction and historical adventure, and its innovative visual design. It first appeared in 1968, near the end of the so-called “golden age of Chilean magazines,” and survived until its closure in 1978.
The success of these and other comic magazines was abruptly cut short in 1973. The coup d’état meant not only their closure, but the interruption of a fertile cultural dialogue. Cartoonist Themo Lobos described it this way in an interview with Cristián Warnken a few years before his death:
“It was a very beautiful, very active period that created opportunities for many characters and many themes to emerge. And it was very sad when they all ended—every single magazine ended. We all know why; there is no need to dwell on the matter, as Don Quixote used to say: ‘better not to stir it up.’ What were some of the most unusual magazines? El Peneca, for example, El Pingüino, Barrabases, where I worked, and a whole series of magazines published by Zig-Zag, which later became Quimantú—close to thirty magazines or more. At that time we Chileans were the second-largest writers and publishers of magazines in the Americas; only the Argentines surpassed us, and they still surpass us by far. An enormous number of characters were being created: cowboys, science fiction...”
Success: a formula that worked for five decades.
El Peneca did not close because it failed. It closed because the world that made it possible ceased to exist. For fifty-two years, it achieved something no other Chilean publication has repeated:
• It formed readers in a country where primary education had only just become compulsory.
• It created community across a geography fragmented by the mountain range and the desert.
• It built a national imaginary that outlived its own creators.
This study has documented three keys to its longevity:
1. A consistent editorial strategy
From Blanchard-Chessi and Emilio Vaisse to Elvira Santa Cruz, El Peneca maintained a remarkable balance between entertainment and education, tradition and modernity, the local and the universal.
2. A network of exceptional creators
Journalists, illustrators, photographers, and scriptwriters did not merely work for the magazine: many were formed within it. El Peneca was a seedbed of talent that later spread throughout Chile’s cultural industries.
3. A community of active readers
The penecas did not simply buy the magazine: they inhabited it. It was a space of childhood citizenship before such a concept even existed.
The causes of its closure: a multiple collapse.
El Peneca’s closure in 1960—with a brief and unsuccessful attempt at revival in 1971–1972—had no single cause. It was a collapse in which several factors converged.
1. The end of a life cycle.
Elvira Santa Cruz directed the magazine for thirty years. Her retirement in 1951 marked the end of an era of charismatic leadership. No one could replace her in her combined role as editor, symbolic mother, and cultivator of talent.
2. Competition from new media. In the 1950s, radio and then television began taking up children’s time. El Peneca, built around leisurely reading and weekly installments, suddenly felt slow and old-fashioned.
3. The loss of an editorial monopoly. Zig-Zag had been Chile’s great publishing house for decades. But beginning in the 1960s, new independent publishers emerged, many founded by former El Peneca collaborators, offering more specialized, daring, or inexpensive content. The market fragmented. El Peneca was no longer the only option.
4. Saturation of the pedagogical model. El Peneca had been conceived for a Chile in which schooling was a privilege and books were a luxury. By the 1960s, the educational system had expanded, illiteracy had declined, and children had access to more reading materials. The magazine’s role as a kind of “substitute school” became less necessary.
5. The 1973 coup and symbolic death. Although El Peneca had already closed in 1960, with a brief return in 1971–1972, the military dictatorship buried any possibility of another revival. The burning of Quimantú’s archives (formerly Zig-Zag) and the persecution of contributors were not collateral damage: they were a deliberate operation to erase the memory of an era in which Chilean culture had been popular, critical, and diverse.
The Zig-Zag paradox: educating for a world that would later be destroyed.
One of the most unsettling contradictions revealed by this research is that the same publishing house that issued El Peneca, Zig-Zag, also owned El Mercurio, the newspaper that actively supported the 1973 coup d’état.
Zig-Zag educated children in patriotic and civic values while, in parallel, the newspaper helped create the conditions for a dictatorship that would destroy that very world. The directors of El Peneca—Blanchard-Chessi, Vaisse, and Santa Cruz—probably never imagined that the same publishing establishment would sponsor those who would burn the archives. This paradox reveals that modern Chilean culture was, to a large extent, a product of the ruling class. That class had the vision to finance exemplary children’s magazines, but it also had the limitation of never questioning the order that sustained it. When that order felt threatened during Salvador Allende’s government, it did not hesitate to ally itself with the military forces that would crush everything, including the cultural heritage it had itself created.
Why, then, does El Peneca remain in our memory?
For millions of people, this magazine was their first love as readers. Those who learned to read in its pages treasured a living experience: a weekly ritual shared with siblings, friends, and family.
Pepín’s drawings, Atria’s illustrations, Coré’s lines and covers, Elena Poirier’s artwork, Pepo’s humor, Quintín’s adventures, and Walter Barbier’s stories transcended fleeting entertainment and became engraved in the country’s collective memory.
An outstanding debt.
This work has been an attempt to restore even a small measure of dignity to what has been forgotten.
El Peneca is part of Chile’s cultural history, and its artists and the thousands of people who, for fifty-two years, made it possible for children to dream, learn, and grow through its pages deserve to be honored.
Many of them fell into complete oblivion. Their names do not appear in school textbooks. Their original drawings were lost or burned. Their anonymous photographs are still waiting for someone to look at them and ask: who was this man? Who was this woman?
The path is open.
There are still many pages to read, many drawings to find, many names to rescue.
But the path is open.
And now, thanks to www.elpeneca.com, that path belongs to everyone.
Miami, 2026.
I wish to express my gratitude to the Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung for awarding me a scholarship (1987 and 1990), which made it possible to finance my research in Chile on the weekly El Peneca. Without this support, the development of this study would not have been possible.
I thank the National Library of Chile for granting me access to its invaluable historical archive, particularly the underground space that became my workplace for more than a year (1987–1988). There I found copies of century-old editions and manually consulted and transcribed many pages of El Peneca and other related magazines. I am also grateful to Mr. Fernando Castro, who was in charge of the newspaper and periodicals archive at the time. The amount of material to be reviewed was immense because El Peneca was published weekly: four issues per month for nearly fifty-two years.
I offer special recognition to my dear and always remembered Prof. Dr. Klaus Doderer, founder and dean of the Institute for Youth Book Research (Institut für Jugendbuchforschung) at Johann Wolfgang Goethe University Frankfurt, who was my academic adviser and later a cherished friend for many years. His wisdom and generosity left a lasting mark on my education.
Finally, I wish to highlight the invaluable contribution of Prof. Dr. Karsten Garscha. Beyond his role as my doctoral adviser (Doktorvater), I admire his commitment to Spanish-speaking scholars and students, especially his work as a bridge at Johann Wolfgang Goethe University Frankfurt and his support for Latin American professors hired during the 1970s. His collegial spirit and inclusive vision have inspired entire generations.
In June 2016, I was able to consult and photograph several issues of El Peneca at the Ibero-American Institute in Berlin.
Miami, 2026.
Alamparte, Julio. Orígenes de la República de Chile. Santiago. 1964
Alcides, Jofre Manuel. La historieta en Chile en la última década. Santiago. 1983
Amunátegui, Miguel Luis. Los precursores de la independencia de Chile. Santiago. 1870
Atlántida. Chile número 5. Santiago. Enero-febrero. 1920
Barrows, Duhnham. El hombre contra el Mito. Buenos Aires. 1965
Baumgaertner, Alfred Clemens. Die Welt der Comics. Bochum. 1971
Baumgaertner, Alfred Clemens. Comics – Ewige Mythen oder Esperanto der Analphabeten? In: Radius. 1968
Becker, Walter. Wie schuetzen wir unsere Jugend vor Schmutz und Schund? Guetersloh. 1959
Berelson y B. Salter P. Mayority and Minority Americans: An analysis of Magazine Fiction. In: Public Opinion, quarterly. 1964
Blanchard-Chessi, Enrique. La revolución chilena de 1891. Santiago. 1891
Blanchard-Chessi, Enrique. Nueva Luna de Miel. Santiago. 1904
Campos, Harriel Fernando. Desarrollo educacional 1810-1960. Santiago. 1960
Cerda, Hugo. Literatura Infantil y clases sociales en Chile. Madrid. 1978
Cereceda Lagos, Luis. Notas en torno al Comics. En: Síntesis, número 14. Santiago. 1982
Cleary, Eda. El papel de las mujeres en la política chilena. Aquisgrán. 1987
Coma, Javier. Los Comics, Un arte del siglo XX. Barcelona, 1978
Cord, Willy K. Zur Geschichte und Problematik der modernen Bilderserienhefte. 1954
Comisión de Planificación Integral de la Educación. Ministerio de Educación Pública: Algunos Antecedentes para la planificación Integral de la Educación en Chile, número 1. Santiago. 1964
Cornwell, Regina. Empower of Animation. In: Art in America. 1981
Cuvillier, Armand. Sociología de la Cultura. Barcelona. 1970
Diccionario de la Real Academia Española. Madrid. 1970
Diccionario Enciclopédico Océano. Barcelona. 1983
Diccionario de la Lengua Española. Decimonovena edición. Madrid. 1970
Doble Espacio. Revista Escuela de Periodismo. Universidad de Chile. “Cenizas del papel el extermino del libro en la dictadura,” cited online
Doderer, Klaus, Fabeln. Formen, Figuren, Lehren. Frankfurt. 1977
Doderer, Klaus. Ueber Maerchen fuer Kinder von heute. Essay zu ihrem Wandel und ihrer Funktion. Weinheim und Basel. 1983
Doderer, Klaus (Hrsg). Lexikon der Kinder-und Jugendliteratur. Ergaenzungs- und Registerband. Weinheim und Basel. 1982
Doderer, Klaus (Hrsg). Walter Benjamin und die Kinderliteratur. Aspekte der Kinderkultur in den zwanziger Jahren. Weinheim und Muenchen. 1988
Escobar, Enrique. La educación primaria en Chile. Santiago. 1945
Felíu Cruz, Guillermo. Alessandri personaje de la Historia. 1868-1950. Santiago. 1968
Gay Mouret, Claudio. Historia de la Independencia de Chile. 1810-1824. Santiago. 1856
Guajardo, Bernardino. Poesías Populares. Santiago. 1885
Jobet, César Julio. Doctrina y Praxis de los educadores en Chile. Santiago. 1970
Lihn, Enrique ‘La Castaña’; poesía, gráfica, humor, número 6, invierno. Santiago. 1986
Lüthi, Max. Maerchen. Siebte Auflage. Sammlung Metzler, Band 16. 1979
Lüthi, Max. Das europaeische Volksmaerchen. Form und Wissen. Muenchen. 1981
Mackenna, Manuel. Problemática Social. Diario “La Nación,” Santiago. Diciembre. 1917
Marinello, Juan Domingo. Coré. Ediciones B. Santiago. 2006
Montealegre, Jorge. El tesoro que creíamos perdido. Ediciones Asterión. Santiago. 2012
Moreno, Jaime: los Momentos Culminantes. Revista Hoy, Santiago. Mayo. 1979
Moser, Dietz-Rüdiger. Christliche Maerchen. Zur Gechichte, Sinndeutung und Funktion einiger “Kinder-und Hausmaerchen” der Brueder Grimm. In: Janning, Juergen (Hrgs). Gott im Maerchen. Kassel. 1982
Mostny, Grete. Prehistoria de Chile. Santiago. 1974
Müller, Helmut. Lexikon der Kinder -und Jugendliteratur. Weinheim und Basel. 1977
Mundo, número 421, Año IV, mayo de 1986. Santiago
O'Higgins, Bernardo. Carta de despedida al pueblo de Chile. Valparaíso. Julio 17. 1823
Panzer, Friedrich. Maerchen, Sage und Dichtung. Muenchen. 1905
Peña Muñoz, Manuel. Historia de la Literatura Infantil Chilena. Santiago. Septiembre. 1982
Propp, Vladimir Jakovlevic. Morphologie des Maerchens. Literatur als Kunst. Moskau. 1928
Ranke, Kurt. Enzyklopädie des Märchens. Handwörterbuch zur historischen und vergleichenden Erzählforschung. Berlin/New York. 1977
Revista Chilena. Hacia el Optimismo. Mayo, junio. 1923
Röhrich, Lutz. Die Märchenforschung seit dem Jahre 1945. Deutsches Jahrbuch für Volkskunde. Wuerzburg. 1955
Salas, Darío. El Problema Nacional. Santiago. 1967
Shorter, Edward. Die Geburt der modernen Familie. Hamburg. 1974
Spielmann, Marion Harry. The History of Punch. London. 1895
Vaisse, Emilio, pseudonym Emeth, Omer y la cultura chilena. Santiago. April. 1930
Villalobos, Sergio. Historia del Pueblo Chileno. Santiago. 1980
Villalobos, Sergio. Chile y su Historia. Santiago. 1993
Zimmermann, Hans Dieter. Comic Strips. Vom Geist der Superhelden. Berlin. 1970
Quotation no. 43 “CONTRIBUTIONS TO ‘EL PENECA’
This magazine is already quite well known among young people, since it has devoted its pages to them from the very first issue, which appeared on November 23, 1908. Its director at the time, and until 1911, was the well-known writer Don Enrique Blanchard-Chessi, who that year handed the editorship over to the distinguished and eminent literary critic Don Emilio Vaisse (Omer Emeth). In both periods the magazine has had distinguished contributors who have brought it distinction through beautiful works in which they expressed their feelings, giving life to prose or poetry through laughter and tears, inviting those who read them either to weep sincerely, shedding pure tears, or to feel an inner joy just as intense and sincere….
The elegant prose of Raquel Olimpia Martínez, Bernardo A. Cruz, Araucana, M. Teresa Zunino Chacón, Pilar Hernández, Huérfana Valeriana, Nicanor Almeida, Manuel Vittini, and Chacato is worthy of the writers who appear today: Adami, Benjamín Oviedo Martínez, Blanca Poblete, Oscar Alfonso Godoy, José Molina Guzmán, Humberto Montecinos Garay, Adelfia Carvallo, Bruja, Friné, Jazmín, Luz, Bruma, Angel C. Hernández, Diamela, Hortensia Córdoba P., Tita M., Laura Muñoz Suazo, Escalena, Celia Díaz Palacios, María Stuardo, Magister, Lilita, Miguel A. Chamorro C., Carlos A. Leyton A., etc.
Poetry, too, has its genuine representatives in Benjamín Oviedo Martínez, Julio Fontecilla Riquelme, José M. Molina Guzmán, Abraham Castro, Antonio Morris Bisivinger, Hortensia Olivares, María Stuardo, Eugenio Roe, Zacarías Correa Pizarro, Alberto Spikin Howard, Francisco A. Lira D., Celia Díaz Palacios, Mario Moreno Flores, Friné, Jazmín, etc.
Recently, new contributors in prose and verse have also appeared, among them Luz, Diamela, Magister, Bruma, María del C. Jiménez Franklin, E. Seldom, Ernestina Torres, M. R. Meezs, Brisa, María Grez, Blanca Rabbi, Miguel A. Chamorro Clander and Eugenio Roe, Abraham Castro, and Fanni Marín Ríos, respectively.
There has been a controversy in our magazine during the year. Contributor Celia Díaz Palacios began it with her article “Our Magazine,” and several contributors took part. This is far too rare, because such discussions are very useful: they make us think and teach us that every clash of ideas is worthwhile provided personal attacks are left aside. If only such controversies arose more often!
Four enthusiastic young men, distinguished contributors in prose and verse, founded beneath the leafy branches of a tree, under the smile of the final winter twilight, a literary academy bearing names worthy of the vigor of their souls: “Youth,” and of the blessed goddess they adore, at whose altars they lay the beautiful thoughts drawn from their minds in the peace of night, when only the rays of the pale traveler enter through the windowpanes of their bedrooms: “Art.” Yes, that academy, founded by Benjamín Oviedo Martínez, the young and inspired poet who loves the institutions of his homeland; Mario Moreno Flores, worshipper of the Muses who sings of Nature in resonant verse; Oscar Alfonso Godoy, the young prose writer who elegantly joins the beauty of his thoughts to the beauty of his prose; and José M. Molina Guzmán, is destined to place upon the shining brows of Chile and Minerva more than one crown woven of green laurel and red copihue, the flower that grows there in Arauco...
There have been few cases of plagiarism, which speaks well of our director, who has fought them so effectively from his post with forceful articles. As he says, “a fraud and a dose of castor-oil purgative are one and the same thing to me.” Needless to say, “fraud” here is synonymous with plagiarist.
There have also been poetry competitions in which the contributing poets have displayed their fine gifts. The results of a major prose and verse competition are currently pending. Typographical errors have been plentiful. Proof: a beautiful article by the contributor Luz became unreadable; another by Hortensia Córdoba, entitled “How Glad We Are at Your Return!” appeared under the title “How Glad We Are at Our Return!” I wish to point out some of the most notable errors with which my article “Why?” was riddled. The word critic should have appeared in bold type because I was referring to pseudo-critics. The error is therefore corrected, and I believe I may consider myself forgiven by the genuine critics who might have thought themselves offended. There are two smaller errors: alado and permanecer should have read hallado and permanece. Shortly before the end it says: “I want to show them that it is more honorable for me to be pointed at because I write...” and the thought ends there. It is incomplete. After what was printed, it should have said: “than the worn-out indifference shown toward them when they are seen coming out of places where they ought not to be.”
Those enthusiastic young people who are beginning to appear in the pages of the magazine should be encouraged. Many of them represent our finest hopes, and they should not fear vulgar criticism. On the contrary, they should draw energetic phrases from their pens to condemn such critics, and words of rightful gratitude for those literary critics who, selflessly, show them the proper paths and correct their faults. To the latter they owe gratitude; to the former, nothing. If the latter are somewhat severe, it does not matter: they mean well. The former seek only to cut short the youthful aspirations of the beginner; the latter consider that secondary.
Enthusiastic contributors have also published beautiful books. Benjamín Oviedo Martínez has published three and has as many more in preparation; Evaristo Molina Herrera is preparing a volume of poetry, Primaverales; Oscar Alfonso Godoy M. is preparing a small book, Amores Puros; and Mario Moreno another volume of verse.
Adami, the intelligent and worthy contributor, has offered beautiful works that reveal her loving soul. Benjamín Oviedo Martínez has presented poems worthy of his lyre and two elegant pieces of prose, “In the Editorial Office” and “My First Verses,” which place him among the foremost prose contributors. He has suspended his criticism, which is regrettable, since it enjoyed so much sympathy among contributors and he possessed gifts for the art practiced by Unamuno, Cejador, and Omer Emeth.
Francisco A. Lira D. has won the affection of the contributors through his “Profiles” and simple poems.
Oscar Alfonso Godoy M. has opened a “Gallery of Young Writers.” He has also written prose infused with love for his native soil, such as “Airs of Doñihue” and “The Sprig of Doña Petita.” I confess that this last article is one of the best I have read in a genre in which Galo Pando, Juan del Campo, Rafael Maluenda, and others have distinguished themselves so greatly.
Luz and Magister show promise.... Forward!
Mario Moreno Flores has given El Peneca beautiful poems.
Young José M. Molina Guzmán is unquestionably a fine hope for the future. His prose and verse promise brilliant days for national literature. His perseverance deserves applause: he contributes both prose and poetry; he is also a puzzle solver and contributor to the Pastimes section. In some of his works we know him under the pseudonym Julio M. Sáenz Góman. María Teresa Zunino Chacón, an enthusiastic contributor during the first period, has reappeared with works worthy of her.
Bruja, María Stuardo, Friné, Jazmín, Bianca Poblete, and Adelfia Carvallo continue to offer their beautiful work, especially the author of “Far from the Homeland,” while the pens that produced “The Poets,” “September 29,” “Memory”—nothing more than memory—“Ideal...,” and “Dawn and Twilight” appear only rarely.
Manuel Vittini, who was an enthusiastic contributor during the first period, has brought distinction to his name with “Immortal Greece” and “Broken Lyre,” both published in this magazine.
Zacarías Correa Pizarro has published beautiful poems. His brother Homero, who had been an enthusiastic contributor during the first and second periods, has written very little this year. It is regrettable.
The young Humberto Montesinos Garay and Julio Fontecilla Riquelme are intelligent contributors in prose and verse respectively. The first caught my attention with his beautiful article “Twilight Sadness,” and later again with “The Tiger Hunt” and “Moonlight.”
Today, as El Peneca completes six years of prosperous life, today as our delighted souls celebrate the magazine’s success, let us all unite so that, from the peneca reader to the young contributor and onward to the director, our sincere gratitude may rise, together with our wish that the magazine triumph over professional envy and competition, since what matters most is the noble purpose it pursues: encouraging a taste for literature among children and young people. Let us flee from mutual flattery and anything resembling it, and let us be fair in our judgments. In this way we shall worthily follow our director’s example.
May all of us in the future think of making lighter the work of that industrious and enthusiastic spirit who perhaps with sorrow throws our first compositions into the wastebasket; that being for whom there is no rest; that being who teaches us to take our first steps in literary life: the director!
May the activity of Benjamín Oviedo Martínez, Adami, Julio Fontecilla Riquelme, Oscar Alfonso Godoy, Francisco A. Lira D., and Bruja find, on El Peneca’s sixth anniversary, an admirer and imitator in every reader!”
ROBERTO MEZA FUENTES.
EL PENECA, no. 262, November 24, 1913.
The original Spanish quotations preserve the spelling of their period.
Peneca: child, youngster. Used in Chile. Real Academia Española, 1970. Diccionario de la lengua española. Nineteenth edition, p. 1002.
Imprenta y Litografía Universo was founded in Valparaíso in 1849 by Guillermo Helfmann. In 1905, Gustavo Helfmann, together with Gustavo Ross, purchased the printing house from his father and formed a corporation. In 1919, Agustín Edwards Mac-Clure acquired the Universo printing house, and the two businessmen became partners in what was then Chile’s most important publishing and printing enterprise.
El Mercurio, Chile’s most influential national conservative newspaper, was founded in Santiago on June 1, 1900, by Agustín Edwards Mac-Clure. Agustín Edwards Ossandón (1815–1878) acquired in 1875 the building that housed the newspaper El Mercurio de Valparaíso.
Editorial Zig-Zag was founded by Agustín Edwards Mac-Clure in 1905 and printed the magazine “Zig-Zag,” which bore the same name. It was a general-interest magazine that reported on the social life of the period.
The UNIVERSO company, owned by Gustavo Helfmann, printed the publications of Editorial Zig-Zag.
See: Salas, Darío: El problema nacional. Santiago, 1967, p. 108.
See: Escobar, Enrique: La educación primaria en Chile. Santiago, 1945, p. 75.
This figure has appeared in various “studies.” In El Peneca no. 2188, dated November 18, 1950, Elvira Santa Cruz stated that circulation stood at 200,000 copies per week.
Zimmermann, Hans Dieter. Comic Strips. Vom Geist der Superhelden. Berlin, 1970, p. 12.
https://www.memoriachilena.gob.cl/602/w3-article-3351.html#cronologia
1907. Chile has a total population of 3,231,022 inhabitants.
1920. Chile has a total population of 3,720,235 inhabitants.
1930. Chile has a total population of 4,287,445 inhabitants.
1940. Chile has a total population of 5,023,539 inhabitants.
1952. Chile has a total population of 5,932,995 inhabitants.
1960. Chile has a total population of 7,374,115 inhabitants.
1970. Chile has a total population of 8,884,768 inhabitants.
Caption box: a narrative text box that complements the image without belonging to the characters’ dialogue.
Didascalia: a graphic space within the panel, connected to the character by a balloon, reproducing the character’s words or thoughts.
This refers to a type of riddle in which clues are given for different parts, usually syllables.
Logogrifo (from Greek lógos = word, gríphos = riddle) is a word puzzle in which a word is guessed from clues referring to its syllables or letters.
Dentística is an old, archaic term for dentistry. Dr. Maximiliano (German) Valenzuela Basterrica (1859–1922) was the first director of the School of Dentistry at the University of Chile.
The German Wilhelm Mann (1874–1948), educated and awarded his doctorate in his native country, developed his career in Chile. He was rector of the boys’ Liceo de Aplicación and, on his own initiative, founded the girls’ Liceo de Aplicación. He also created the Experimental Psychology Laboratory. His work continued in 1928, when the Chilean government appointed him director of the Pedagogical Institute; he later became dean of the Faculty of Philosophy at the University of Chile.
https://archivoluisdavidcruzocampo.udec.cl/index.php/Mann,-Wilhelm,-1874
Some copies contained spelling mistakes or other errors.
The movement supported the restoration of the monarchy and the restoration of Catholicism as the state religion.
Vaisse, Emilio, pseudonym “Omer Emeth,” La Cultura chilena. Santiago, April 1930.
Vaisse, Emilio, pseudonym “Omer Emeth.” La Cultura chilena. Santiago, April 1930.
Sursum corda comes from the Latin sursum (“upward”) and corda (“hearts”).
Numerical logogriphs are a specific type of riddle or word game that combines elements of traditional logogriphs with numbers and mathematical operations.
An anagram consists of rearranging the letters of a word or phrase to form a different word or phrase, using exactly the same letters.
At the foot of the drawing: “Many gifts, a doll and other figures of good size our Peneca has received, because today the youngster turns one year old.”
Luis Fernando Rojas. Obra gráfica. 1875–1942. Carola Ureta Marín and Pedro Álvarez Caselli. Santiago, 2014.
“Cabo Moya” is a paradigmatic example of how El Peneca used writers as conscious builders of Chilean identity through children’s and young adult literature. His pseudonym was itself part of the message. “Cabo Moya” wrote historical and patriotic stories, often in adventure form, for young readers, working in collaboration with illustrator Luis Fernando Rojas.
Excerpt from a biographical profile of Luis Fernando Rojas.
The newspaper La Nación, founded in 1917, was seized by the military government after the 1973 coup d’état. On October 2 of that year, it was renamed La Patria by decree and became one of the regime’s principal propaganda organs. It circulated under that name until 1975. Finally, in 1980, the newspaper was able to reopen under its original name. Journalist Délano was one of the figures who publicly endorsed the dictatorship. In the first issue of La Patria, he greeted the Government Junta with a self-portrait celebrating the military period, accompanied by the caption: “For ‘La Patria,’ on its first issue, with hopes that it may have the same success ‘La Nación’ enjoyed when it first appeared.”
According to “Coke” (Jorge Délano), Juan Francisco González Ramírez was the worthy son of a great painter. He signed his work Huelén to distinguish himself from his famous father, one of the towering figures of Chilean painting, and he never abandoned that name. https://www.geni.com/people/Juan-Francisco-Simon-Gonz%C3%A1lez-Ram%C3%ADrez/6000000010082004599
“Federico Von Pilsener” is considered one of the first comics in Chilean history.
“H. Paper” was a young contributor to El Peneca whose real name was Abel Guevara.
https://www.tebeosfera.com/documentos/zig zag_y_la_historieta_chilena_a_comienzos_del_siglo_xx.html
https://www.tebeosfera.com/documentos/zig
zag_y_la_historieta_chilena_a_comienzos_del_siglo_xx.html
Alfredo Lobos was born in Rancagua, Chile, in 1890 and died at the age of twenty-seven in Madrid, Spain. He was the brother of Enrique and Alberto Lobos, and all three belonged to the so-called Generation of Thirteen, a group of Chilean artists who renewed national art in the early twentieth century.
Spelled “Marter” this way in the weekly.
During Elvira Santa Cruz’s period, four photographers were named.
See quotation at the end of the study.
Plutarch (c. 46–c. 120 CE) was a Greek historian, biographer, and philosopher, known chiefly for his Parallel Lives, one of the most important sources on Classical Antiquity.
In this “Correo de El Peneca” section, reference was made to the only photographer whom El Peneca identified by surname during this period.
Max und Moritz: A Story of Seven Boyish Pranks is an early work by the well-known German poet and illustrator Wilhelm Busch, first published in late October 1865.
Max and Moritz: A Story of Seven Boyish Pranks is one of the earliest works by the well-known German poet and illustrator Wilhelm Busch; it was first published in late October 1865.
“The Yellow Kid” was the lead character in Richard F. Outcault’s 1890s comic strip Hogan’s Alley, one of the first Sunday-supplement comic strips in an American newspaper. The Yellow Kid was a bald, snaggle-toothed child with a goofy grin, dressed in a yellow nightshirt, who wandered through a ghetto alley filled with equally odd characters, mostly other children. Instead of speaking, the child wore his words on his shirt in a satire of advertising billboards. His bald head suggested that it had recently been shaved to get rid of lice, as was common in poor urban neighborhoods at the time.
“The Yellow Kid” was the main character in Richard F. Outcault’s 1890s comic strip Hogan’s Alley, one of the earliest Sunday-supplement comic strips in an American newspaper. The Yellow Kid was bald, snaggle-toothed, and wore a foolish grin and a yellow nightshirt as he wandered through a ghetto alley filled with strange characters, most of them other children. Instead of speaking, he wore his words on his shirt in a satire of advertising billboards. His shaved head suggested the common practice of shaving children’s hair to eliminate lice in poor neighborhoods at the time.
Caption box: a narrative text box that complements the image without belonging to the characters’ dialogue.
Didascalia: a graphic space within the panel, linked to the character by a balloon, that reproduces the character’s words or thoughts.
In 1658, the Czech philosopher and educator Jan Amos Komenský (1592–1670), known in Latin as Comenius, published in Latin and German what is regarded as the first illustrated book for children. Der Mensch und seine Welt nach Comenius mit Bildern von Václav Sokol nach der Ausgabe von 1883 (“Man and His World” according to Comenius, with illustrations by Václav Sokol based on the 1883 edition).
Alberto Mauret Caamaño (1880–1934) was a Chilean writer, poet, and intellectual whose work, including titles such as La Lira chilena and Héroes y patricios, made a significant contribution to national literature at the end of the nineteenth and beginning of the twentieth centuries.
The word “Alsatian” refers to something originating in Alsace, a historical and cultural region of eastern France renowned for its rich heritage of traditional tales and legends.
The word mañero is an adjective used in Chile. It refers to someone who rises early and has energy, willingness, or performs well during the first hours of the day.
Under Elvira Santa Cruz’s direction, El Peneca increased from 16 to 24 pages and later to 36 pages.
Blanca Santa Cruz Ossa was the author of a collection of children’s books characterized by educational value and accessible storytelling. She was a pioneer in the study of myths and legends, both Chilean and foreign, helping to preserve and disseminate world cultural heritage.
19th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution: Women’s Right to Vote. 1920.
The victory of women’s suffrage in Chile was the result of a long and sustained struggle by various women’s organizations throughout the country. The process unfolded in stages: the first major milestone came in 1934, when women exercised the right to vote for the first time in municipal elections. That right was expanded and legally consolidated with the enactment of Law No. 9,292 in 1949, which established universal suffrage for women. The process culminated in 1952, when nearly all Chilean women voted for the first time in a presidential election.
Mackenna S., Manuel: Problemática social. Newspaper La Nación, Santiago, December 1917.
Under the marital-property system, the husband exercised control over the assets.
Revista chilena. “Hacia el optimismo,” May–June 1923.
During the governments of Arturo Alessandri Palma, democratic policies were promoted and the Constitution of 1925 was established, remaining in force until 1979. His administration showed contradictions in its treatment of mass political movements organized by workers, peasants, and miners. On the one hand, he presented himself as sympathetic to these groups; on the other, his authoritarianism led him to order violent repression of demonstrators in the name of restoring “order.” Chilean history records two of the gravest massacres during his governments: on June 4, 1925, more than 2,000 miners were killed at the La Coruña nitrate works. On September 5, 1938, sixty-two young pro-Nazi militants were shot after illegally occupying the Seguro Obrero building.
The exact origin of the word once is uncertain. According to popular belief, it came from a custom among nitrate miners in the late nineteenth century. During their break they drank aguardiente, a word with eleven letters; hence tomar once (“to take eleven”). Chilean families, meanwhile, traditionally gather in the late afternoon for tea with bread rolls and sweets. This custom is called tomar once.
The interviewees’ exact words.
The letter is held by the National Library of Chile, 1951, and has now been digitized. Joaquín Edwards Bello belonged to a branch of the influential Edwards family. He was a journalist and the author of El Roto, a classic of Chilean literature. He was the son of Joaquín Edwards Garriga, cofounder of Banco Edwards, and a descendant of Joaquín Edwards Ossandón.
Research notes, El Mercurio, Santiago de Chile, 1960. In an interview Elvira Santa Cruz gave to the newspaper El Mercurio, according to research notes taken directly from the National Library archives in 1988, the director stated that she never wrote violent stories or tales of revenge, but rather romantic stories, and that under her direction the magazine grew from 6,000 to 240,000 copies.
P.S.: In 1942 it was in its thirty-fifth publication year; in 1943 it would complete exactly thirty-five years.
Boroa is a town in Chile’s Araucanía Region.
Some sources state that Aníbal Alvial Bensen and his brother Arturo Alvial Bensen (born in 1901) may have been twins, which would also place Aníbal’s birth in 1901, but this has not been officially confirmed. As for his date of death, I have not found reliable records establishing it.
See section 4, “El Peneca and Chilean Children’s Magazine Production,” under “Condorito.”
Despite searches in period archives and catalogs of Chilean illustrators, it has not been possible to identify the artist behind the pseudonym “Dicky Spark.” He may have been a foreign artist or an occasional contributor.
Author’s note: It has not been possible to find birth or death dates for Alberto Lungenstrass, nor biographical records in the archives consulted. We know only that he worked for El Peneca from a young age, that he drew “Quintín, the Adventurer,” and that his colleagues called him by the name of his character. His case is representative of so many working illustrators erased by official graphic-art history.
Themo Lobos: Un encuentro con Mampato. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G4IqpOx6EYA
Chile’s National Journalism Prize has been awarded since 1954 and does not include comic-script writers.
Second Prize (Outside Competition) went to Fidelicio Atria, who was also a prominent illustrator of the period, although his name is less remembered today than Coré’s.
Editorial Quimantú was founded in 1971 when Salvador Allende’s government acquired the Zig-Zag company. During its brief existence, Quimantú retained much of the magazine and publication catalog inherited from Zig-Zag and produced low-cost books to broaden access to reading among working-class sectors. After the 1973 military coup, the publishing house was placed under intervention, its facilities were destroyed, and a large part of its book stock was burned or disappeared, abruptly ending one of the most innovative publishing projects in Chilean history.
Rapa Nui was the first Chilean publishing house devoted exclusively to children’s literature, founded in 1946 by Chilean writer Hernán Solar and Catalan writer Francesc Trabal.
More than a simple primer, the Silabario hispanoamericano became a cultural symbol in which aesthetics and education merged, leaving an indelible mark on childhood.
An artistic and literary style of the Late Renaissance, marked by refinement.
Charles Ricketts (1866–1931), Laurence Housman (1865–1959).
Lihn, Enrique, “La Castaña”; poetry, graphic art, humor, no. 6, winter 1986. Santiago, Chile.
Mundo, no. 421, Year IV, May 1986. Santiago, Chile.
By then I had walked the block her sister had indicated to me, and it had disappeared.
Montealegre, Jorge. Coré, el tesoro que creíamos perdido. Santiago, Chile. 2012.
The Académie Française (the French language academy) was established in France in 1635.
Luethi, Max. Maerchen. Siebte Auflage. Sammlung Metzler Band 16. Stuttgart, 1979.
The brothers repeatedly emphasized their determination to reproduce the traditional material purely and faithfully. Jacob in particular, in his dispute with Arnim, but also with his brother Wilhelm, vigorously insisted on fidelity and rejected embellishments. (Letter to Franz Pfeiffer, February 19, 1860), p. 53.
Mario Vargas Llosa interview: “Literature Makes Citizens Critical.”
https://youtu.be/me_fiUW3Boo?si=iRNWNWiYUAoW5Qlj
A recent quotation, included because of its relevance to the context of this research.
Puck was an American political-satire and humor magazine created in 1876 by Austrian-born Joseph Keppler and published in English- and German-language editions during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.
National Journalism Prize, drawing category, 1971.
See the interview with Odilia Navarro, “Ketmis,” in this study.
Diccionario enciclopédico Océano, Barcelona, 1983, vol. III.
Diccionario de la Lengua Española. Nineteenth edition, p. 1002. Madrid, 1970.
According to the dictionary of the Real Academia Española, Madrid, 1970, p. 603, hero means: an illustrious man famous for his deeds or virtues; one who carries out a heroic action; the principal character of any poem in which an action is represented, especially an epic one; any character of elevated stature in an epic poem.
Vicente Grez (1847–1909) was a Chilean politician, journalist, and writer.
Archive: postcard sent by Elvira Santa Cruz to “Monito.” National Library of Chile.
The Academy of Painting was founded in Santiago, Chile, on March 17, 1849.
The Paris Salon was the most important art exhibition in the Western world. By the late nineteenth century, it was the arena in which academic tradition collided with modernity.
spirit of self-sacrifice
Bernardino Guajardo, Poesías Populares, vol. 8, p. 24. Santiago, 1885.
I did not manage to transcribe the interviews with René Ríos and Cardinal Monsignor Raúl Silva Enríquez. My house in Macul, Santiago, was burglarized; among other things, my camera and tape recorder were stolen.
Peña Muñoz, Manuel. Historia de la Literatura Infantil Chilena. Santiago. September 1982, p. 15.
A cookie and chocolate factory inaugurated in Valparaíso in 1892; it was purchased by the Nestlé consortium in the 1980s.
Interview conducted by Cristián Warnken with Themo Lobos: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G4IqpOx6EYA