America 1929: John F. Kennedy, the Great Writer

George Bernard Shaw's commentary appeared prominently on page two of The New York Times, with the headline:

George Bernard Shaw: The real drama belongs to the streets.

I received a script from New York. The author is a young man named Arthur Kennedy.

This play reminded me of when I was young and writing *Mrs. Warren's Profession*. At that time, the British censors banned my play, deeming it "immoral." In reality, they weren't afraid of immorality, but of the truth.

Mr. Kennedy's play also tells the truth. He uses concise and powerful dialogue to expose the absurd nature of the bureaucratic system.

This is precisely what theater should do. I have always believed that theater is not for entertaining the powerful and wealthy, nor for whitewashing reality, but for revealing the truth.

I've heard that New York City Hall is using various bureaucratic tactics to obstruct the performance of this play. I've also heard that Mr. Kennedy is unable to find a proper venue for rehearsals.

This reminds me of Chekhov and Ibsen, who, in their careers, also faced difficulties finding rehearsal venues and theaters willing to arrange performances due to suppression by powerful figures, financial constraints, and other reasons.

But this does not diminish their greatness.

I have always believed that true drama does not need lavish theaters, expensive sets, or sponsorship from the powerful; it only needs true stories, courageous actors, and audiences willing to listen to the truth.

Mr. Kennedy is trying to bring theater to the workers, to those who really need it.

If New York City Hall bans this show, it's announcing to the world that they are afraid of the truth, afraid of being ridiculed, and afraid of people thinking.

I support Mr. Kennedy. I support all artists who dare to speak the truth.

Theater belongs to the people, not to those in power.

George Bernard Shaw

This statement, like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, triggered a violent chain reaction in the cultural circles of New York and even across the United States.

At ten o'clock in the morning, the phone at the New York Herald began ringing incessantly. Isabella had just sat down at her desk when she heard the urgent ringing.

She picked up the receiver, and the other person immediately identified themselves.

"I am a reporter from The New Yorker. We would like to interview Mr. Kennedy regarding Mr. Shaw's statement in today's New York Times."

"Mr. Kennedy is currently rehearsing and is not available for an interview," Isabella replied, following Arthur's instructions.

"When would be a convenient time? We can send someone over today or tomorrow, or we can invite him to the editorial department."

"I will pass on your request, but I cannot guarantee the time."

"Okay, thank you. Please be sure to convey our hope to speak with him." The other party sounded urgent.

The phone rang again immediately after I hung up.

The second call came from the Brooklyn Eagle, the third from the New York Post, and then from the Associated Press's New York bureau.

The phone calls came one after another, all with similar content.

In addition to newspapers and magazines, producers from two radio stations even called, hoping that Arthur could appear on their shows to talk about playwriting.

Everyone who called wanted to interview Arthur; everyone wanted to know his opinion on the Shaw statement and his next steps.

By noon, Isabella had received more than thirty phone calls, and the list of interview requests on her desk filled two pages.

The gloom cast by those previous critical articles seemed to have been swept away overnight by this statement that traveled across the ocean.

But at this moment, Arthur, who was at the center of the storm, was not at the newspaper office.

He was in that shabby basement at the Brooklyn docks, rehearsing intensely with Lawson and the actors.

During a break in rehearsals, everyone was sitting on the floor drinking water and resting when Patrick suddenly barged in and went straight to Arthur.

"Look at this, Arthur. You're a celebrity now, a real celebrity. Even a big British writer has spoken up for you."

Patrick unfolded the newspaper and pointed to the eye-catching article on the second page.

Arthur took the newspaper and quickly glanced at the statement. He looked up and saw Lawson and the other actors gathered around, their faces filled with curiosity and anticipation.

"The dockworkers are all talking about it," Patrick continued, his voice filled with pride.

"Everyone says, 'This is incredible! Even a world-renowned writer supports you. What you're doing must be the right thing to do.'"

Lawson took the newspaper, read it carefully again, then let out a long sigh and patted Arthur on the shoulder.

"Buddy, the situation has completely changed. We now hold not just a play, but a flag. George Bernard Shaw himself handed this flag to you."

He turned to the actors and raised his voice:

"Did everyone hear that? Keep rehearsing! We need to live up to this support and give a flawless performance!"

The actors were excited and nodded in agreement, their eyes filled with a sense of solemnity and mission.

That afternoon, when Arthur returned to the newspaper office to handle some business, Isabella immediately handed him the long list of interview requests.

"That was just this morning; a few more came in the afternoon."

Just then, the phone rang again.

Isabella gestured for Arthur to come and answer the call, because the other person specifically asked for "Mr. Kennedy".

Arthur picked up the receiver and heard an unfamiliar voice on the other end:

"Mr. Kennedy, I am John Gasner from the Department of Drama at Columbia University. I have seen George Bernard Shaw's statement. I would like to invite you to give a lecture at our school about your writing."

Arthur was somewhat surprised that it was a call from Columbia University's School of Drama. He responded politely:

"Thank you for the invitation, Professor Gassner. But I'm rehearsing right now and may not have time."

However, the other party clearly had no intention of giving up easily and continued to press for answers:

"What happens after rehearsals? We can wait."

Arthur had no choice but to reply that he would seriously consider Columbia University's invitation to the drama school and would give a response as soon as possible after the rehearsals ended. Only then did Gasner agree to hang up the phone.

After hanging up the phone, Isabella told Arthur that this was the fifth invitation she had received that day, following invitations from New York University, Hunter College, and Brooklyn College.

"Is it all because of George Bernard Shaw's statement?"

"Yes. They may have heard of you before, but didn't take you seriously. Now that George Bernard Shaw has publicly endorsed you, they're taking you seriously."

Arthur shook his head with a wry smile: "It seems that the name George Bernard Shaw really does have magic, and reputation is indeed important."

"It's not just about prestige, but also a change in status," Isabella said.

"Before, you were just a columnist who challenged authority. Now, you are a young artist recognized by international masters."

"These two identities carry completely different weight."

At that moment, Hemingway strode into the office, carrying whiskey and a few small glasses.

Seeing this, Isabella left without disturbing them.