Andrés Révész, an hour with Einstein and fifty years at ABC

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With his crazy bird hairstyle (between Bertrand Russell and Curro, the 92 mascot), Andrés Révész is the Cocteau of Spanish journalism, and is Hungarian (father of Tibor Reves, film producer and crucigramist with the signature of Peko, the family nickname). In fact, it would not be crazy if the “Austro-Hungarian empire” phrase that Berlanga places as a tag on the ear of his films was a Revészian wink.

The cool ignorance of contemporary journalism does not know that Cocteau, when in 40 the Gestapo prende a Max Jacob, Picasso’s pagafantas, signature of his hand (such beautiful hands had only seen Pemán in Antonia Mercé to dance and in Pius XII to bless) a German commanding letter signed by all friends except… Picasso, who, however, does not spare the joke: «Nothing is worth doing. Max is an angel. Don’t need our help to fly away and escape from prison. ‘

Through the catholes of the Great War, Révész arrived in Spain in the 15th with eight languages and a spartacist fervor for Rosa Luxembourg (To the amazement, later, of those who see him directing a sentimental office in the magazine of the Women’s Section).

Todo en Révész es anécdota (On the nightstand of the Multicentro on Serrano street, opposite the ABC, Lorenzo López Sancho told us the most spicy to the scholarship holders), “wisdom of the day in the newspaper he wrote” (in ABC, fifty years), finally defeated ” for that loan of fame with usurious proceeds of oblivion ”which, according to Ruano, is the Press.

Révész es un graphomaniac with bow tie that meets the literary demand of the moment. It begins in «El Sol«, and at 22 he goes to ABC… forever (here you have a job for life, as Don Torcuato said).

He directs the International section, advises the dictator Primo de Rivera on foreign affairs, and suddenly, an hour with Einstein! The wise man travels on the Barcelona-Madrid train, and Révész approaches him in Guadalajara. He tells her that he smokes a lot, that he plays the violin every day and that he often read Cervantes, for his humor, and Dostoyevsky, for the opposite. And ask a favor:

–I beg of you –tells me Einstein– to rectify the statements attributed to me. I am not a revolutionary, not even in the scientific field. I am a sincere democrat, I am interested in the social and I want equal rights, but I have no faith in a socialist society nor in the communists’ production program.

Ferryman witch (and spy) like a hawk Through the interwar world, he anticipates Chinese geostrategy and, graphomaniac after all, writes of the love of women (of happiness in marriage!) and of the dry and scamon “ultraism” of dictators (Mussolini en pajamas, Narváez in liberal, and so on).

Too bad that a being so seventies has to give up his spirit in 1970.

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