John Gildemeister, the “apostle of work”

At the end of November 1889, it took place in Lime “the largest private negotiation that has been done in South America.” The protagonist of this event was Juan Gildemeister, an industrious and sagacious man, who sold the Rosario de Huara saltpeter “office” in Tarapacá to a British consortium for the fabulous sum of 1,250,000 pounds sterling. Many thought that it was the brilliant culmination of a successful career, which began in our homeland in 1845 and that Gildemeister would return to his native Bremen to enjoy his riches. Hearing those comments, he responded energetically: “If the few men who have capital leave this country, what will become of him?”

John Gildemeister was born on June 16, 1823 in the aforementioned free city in the Confederation of the Rhine, on the banks of the Weser river. He belonged to a family of ancient lineages and, from a very young age, he decided to make his way in our continent. His first destination was Rio de Janeiro, where he ran an import business. With his savings he bought a sailboat and a large shipment of wood that he took to Valparaíso, selling the merchandise and the ship at a handsome profit. He came to Lima and shortly thereafter traveled to California, returning shortly thereafter to form a commercial company dedicated to imports, his specialty. The Gildemeister y Cia. house, located on San Pedro Street, prospered rapidly. Together with the British Guillermo Gibbs, Gildemeister was, starting in 1863, one of the first to promote the development of Iquique, “enabling” small saltpeter producers. “The habilitation business was producing magnificent results for Gildemeister -wrote El Comercio- when the earthquake of August 1868, which ruined the entire south, caused the total loss of his assets. Warehouses with merchandise, saltpeter in warehouses, docks, boats and everything that the company name had in Iquique was devastated by the earthquake and the sea.

Gildemeister, through the telegraph, received immediate news of the disaster and, without thinking twice, sent one of his trusted men to Hamburg, with orders to buy the entire stock of saltpeter in that port. Gildemeister was confident of two things: that the price of the product, as in fact happened, would rise when shipments were suspended indefinitely due to the earthquake, and that his emissary would complete the deal before the news of the terrible earthquake reached the knowledge of the merchants. burgers. At that time there was no cable communication with Europe. Thanks to his quick reflexes and his fearless maneuvering, Gildemeister earned fabulous returns.

When the war with Chile broke out, Gildemeister suspended his work for a long time so as not to pay taxes to the invaders. In January 1881, after the misfortune of Miraflores, he ceded his large mansion to the German consul, where numerous Peruvian families found refuge under the German flag. By then he was already married to Doña María Prado, a native of Lambayeque, and also owned important agricultural and mining properties in the Chicama valley and the Huarochirí ravine, respectively. Gildemeister resumed the production of saltpeter nitrate in 1883 and in 1888 he bought the Rosario de Huara “office” for one hundred thousand Chilean pesos, which he equipped with modern machinery and then sold, as has already been said.

The last years of his life were dedicated by Juan Gildemeister to turning the Casagrande farm into an example of a sugar industry with the highest technological levels. But it would not be fair to remember him only as a lucky businessman. Gildemeister was also a generous, simple, Christian man. “He was the archetype of perseverance for work; living and ardent faith for the great industrial companies; support and protection for industrious and honest men; discreet adviser to those who have sought in his experience the impulse of their own businesses”.

Juan Gildemeister died in Lima on May 31, 1898. An immense and heterogeneous crowd of people arrived at his house, on Mogollón Street, and accompanied his remains to the Bellavista Cemetery. It was not only the last and understandable tribute to a winner in the difficult and risky field of finance, to a billionaire. It was a sincere and moving tribute of deep admiration to a man who deeply identified with our country and, as El Comercio said at that hour of farewell, a distinguished “apostle of work.”