Howard Goldblatt (Editor) - Chairman Mao Would Not Be Amused – Fiction From Today

Sitting on his heels by the students' doorstep, the team leader puffed on his pipe. Then he said, in a voice that showed how deeply troubled and exasperated he was, "You guys have got to come up with an idea to get me out of this mess!"

You haven't heard what Shuanzhu told the team leader, his father, so naturally you can't understand why the team leader was so upset. The reporter had told Shuanzhu that since this was the very first time a Shanghai high school graduate had risked his life to rescue someone from a local fire, he wanted to write a story about the Crabman. He wanted to interview the Crabman and Old Chen, and he also wanted to meet with all the high school graduates, the team leader, the secretary of the Party branch, and the representative of the peasants' association. You might be saying to yourself, So they have a meeting, what's the big deal? But you must realize that in this village, the team leader was, in fact, the secretary of the Party branch, and the secretary of the Party branch was, in fact, the representative of the peasants' association. In short, all these positions were held by the same person, and this person happened to be Shuanzhu's father. The team leader was not concerned about whether the reporter held a high official rank, nor was he worried that the reporter was in a position to have him removed as Party-branch secretary or representative of the peasants' association. What concerned him, apart from having to hold meetings for a few days (for which he wouldn't earn a penny), was how in the world his one pitiful mouth would be able to spit out enough words for three different people.

For all intents and purposes, there simply was no solution to the dilemma faced by the team leader. But then again, you have to understand the temperament of these Shanghai students-they never give up in the face of adversity. "I've got it," Four Eyes said, " I'll be the representative of the peasants' association. I look old for my age."

As good as his word, he did indeed carry out the scheme. The team leader brought a white Chinese-style jacket from home and gave it to Four Eyes to wear. Four Eyes also changed his shoes for a pair of small cloth "peasant" slippers. He took off his glasses, and Abe Lincoln rubbed a few ashes on the bridge of his nose to cover up the red indentations. The Professor said he looked just right: when Four Eyes blinked, it looked like he had trachoma. The Crabman was still worried that the effect wasn't complete, so he found a towel (one of those brand-name towels from Shanghai) and tried to wrap it like a turban around Four Eyes' head. Four Eyes absolutely refused to wear it. "You're not going to make me look like a hick," he said.

The next day, the reporter came to the village, and the team leader made such a fuss you'd think somebody was getting married. Bare-bottomed toddlers shouted and squealed with excitement as they escorted him to the students' house. On the other hand, the adults, without exception, slammed their doors shut and stayed inside. The Crabman, the Professor, and Abe Lincoln sat on the bed, leaving the three stools for the reporter, the team leader, and the representative of the peasants' association. Several bold youngsters pressed close to the reporter and stared at his notebook and even rubbed the material of his clothing with their fingers. No matter how experienced and knowledgeable a reporter might be, he'd still find it difficult not to fidget in circumstances such as these. The team leader and the representative consulted briefly and decided to kick the people out and shut the door. Actually, by the time they closed the door, the villagers were already pretty fed up. "So this is a reporter," someone outside the room was heard to say. "How come he looks just as poor and hard up as a schoolteacher? Is there something we're missing? Do you think he can sing local opera?"

Whether or not the reporter could sing local opera remains unclear, but he certainly could talk! Almost all the talking that day was done by him and the representative of the peasants' association (you of course remember that this was Four Eyes); the former monopolized the first half of the discussion, and the latter dominated the second half. Every now and then, the team leader and the high school graduates somehow managed to get in a word or two. There's no need to relate the reporter's opening remarks here since everyone can more or less imagine what he said. We also don't intend to go into what Four Eyes said, for that can all be found in the editorials that came out in the revolutionary newspapers and magazines that year. What we do want to reveal is a few words that were spoken right before the meeting adjourned. After all, as experience has shown, there comes a moment in steeping tea when it tastes just right.

"Well, that's enough for today. I think I have the overall picture/' the reporter said as he closed his notebook. "But I can't help feeling the material is a little too ordinary. How should I put it? It doesn't quite have enough punch. It needs something special to catch the reader's eye."

"Something special?" asked Four Eyes. "I've been stuck in this village for some thir-thir-thirty years, and I've seen hundreds of fires put out, but I can't say I've ever seen anything special about them."

"What I meant was the second time he rushed in to the sea of flames," the reporter said, pointing to the Crabman, "all he came out with was an old quilt. I mean, don't you think that's rather anti-climactic? Don't you think it would make a flashier story if he had come out with, say, a few scrolls of Chairman Mao's writings or a sacred portrait of the chairman?"

"But an old quilt was all I brought out," the Crabman insisted. "And anyway, Old Chen's house didn't have a picture of Chairman Mao."

It's at this moment that we discover the difference between being a reporter and being a high school graduate. We can also see how someone who consciously makes use of his brain approaches problems.

"Comrade, you can stop with the T and 'my,' " the reporter said with a smile. "We are not the least bit interested in using you, as an individual, for propaganda. What's an individual, anyway? We owe all our achievements to the Party and to the people. The reason for reporting a story about you is to provide a good model, so that other high school graduates can learn from your example. The potential power of such a model is boundless! Do you follow me? Now do we want people to imitate your dragging out some old quilt, or would we rather have them emulate your undying dedication to the chairman? Why don't you think about it for a while? You can write a short statement and give it to me tomorrow, OK?"

That night, if you had rushed over to the room where the students from Shanghai lived, you'd probably have thought they Were holding an open discussion meeting. Four Eyes was sitting in front of the oil lamp, pen and paper in hand; the Crabman was standing behind him with an expectant look on his face; Abe Lincoln and the Professor were already in bed. Even though the seating arrangement was casual, they expressed their opinions with utmost seriousness.

"So do we vote for or against the reporter's proposal?" asked Four Eyes.

"Against! That man is an out-and-out liar," Abe Lincoln said firmly.

"Yes, we should vote against it. Otherwise, people will say that all I can do is show off," the Crabman said somewhat hesitantly.

"However," interrupted the Professor, "as the saying goes, When it comes to important people, not every statement can be believed, and not every act comes to fruition."

"So should we just write what happened?" Four Eyes asked.

"Of course the facts demand it," Abe Lincoln said, remaining resolute.

"But in that case, maybe he won't use the story," the Crabman said, still somewhat uncertain.