Franco's Death and Funeral
In 1969, Franco designated Prince Juan Carlos de Borbón, who had been educated by him in Spain, with the new title of Prince of Spain, as his heir-apparent. This designation came as a surprise for the Carlist pretender to the throne, as well as for Juan Carlos' father, Don Juan, the Count of Barcelona, who technically had a superior right to the throne. By 1973, Franco had surrendered the function of prime minister (Presidente del Gobierno), remaining only as head of state and commander in chief of the military.
As his final years progressed, tension within the various factions of the Movimiento would consume Spanish political life, as varying groups jockeyed for position to control the country's future. On 19 July 1974, the aged Franco fell ill from various health problems, and Juan Carlos took over as Acting Head of State. Franco soon recovered on 2 September and resumed his duties as Head of State, but one year later he fell ill once again from more health problems including a long battle with Parkinson's Disease. On 30 October 1975, he fell into a coma and was put on life support. Franco died just after midnight on 20 November 1975, at the age of 82, just two weeks before his 83rd birthday – the same date as the death of José Antonio Primo de Rivera, founder of the Falange. However, the historian Ricardo de la Cierva claims that on 19 November around 6 pm, he was told that Franco had already died. After Franco's death, King Juan Carlos decided to have him buried at Valle de los Caídos, a colossal memorial that nominally honours all the casualties of the Spanish Civil War, but designed by Franco and with a distinctly nationalist tone. Franco's funeral was attended by the Chilean dictator General Augusto Pinochet, who revered Franco and modelled himself in his image, Bolivia's dictator General Hugo Banzer, Jordan's King Hussein and US Vice President Nelson Rockefeller.
Read more about this topic: Francisco Franco
Famous quotes containing the words death and/or funeral:
“The grief of the keen is no personal complaint for the death of one woman over eighty years, but seems to contain the whole passionate rage that lurks somewhere in every native of the island. In this cry of pain the inner consciousness of the people seems to lay itself bare for an instant, and to reveal the mood of beings who feel their isolation in the face of a universe that wars on them with winds and seas.”
—J.M. (John Millington)
“That poor little thing was a good woman, Judge. But she just sort of let life get the upper hand. She was born here and she wanted to be buried here. I promised her on her deathbed she’d have a funeral in a church with flowers. And the sun streamin’ through a pretty window on her coffin. And a hearse with plumes and some hacks. And a preacher to read the Bible. And folks there in church to pray for her soul.”
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