America 1929: John F. Kennedy, the Great Writer

On December 15, 1929, night fell.

New York was unusually cold that day, and the biting wind blowing from the Hudson River seemed to seep into everyone's bones.

However, the area in front of the Providencetown Theatre in Greenwich Village was bustling with activity, and people seemed completely oblivious to the cold weather.

Although there was still an hour before the show started, the narrow streets were already packed with people.

A long queue had already formed at the theater entrance, where staff were checking tickets. Some people who hadn't bought tickets stood on the street, hoping to try their luck and see if anyone had cancelled their tickets at the last minute.

In a corner café, several reporters were discussing tonight's performance.

"What do you think of this play?"

"I don't know. But since George Bernard Shaw is here, it can't be too bad."

"I heard things are tense at City Hall. Mayor Walker has been in meetings all day."

"Of course he's nervous. This play satirizes bureaucrats and politicians, and the story takes place in City Hall. If the performance is a success, where will he put his face?"

"But he didn't dare to stop it. George Bernard Shaw had publicly supported it; if he dared to take action, the whole world would laugh at him."

The police station dispatched two police cars to maintain order, and several officers were impatiently waving their batons, trying to clear a path on the sidewalk.

But the crowds were so dense that every time they managed to clear a space, new people would immediately flood in.

A young policeman complained:

"Damn, how can there be so many people? It's just a movie!"

The old policeman glared at him and lowered his voice:

"Shut up, newbie. Look at that fat guy over there smoking a cigar, that's the editor-in-chief of The New York Times. And look at that woman in the fur coat, she's from the Vanderbilt family. Neither of them are people we can afford to mess with."

(Please remember the website ①⓪①ⓚⓚⓢ.ⓒⓞⓜ for the fastest chapter updates)

The young policeman muttered defiantly:

"So what? We still have to maintain order."

The old policeman sighed:

"You don't understand. This isn't an ordinary performance. George Bernard Shaw is coming; he's a Nobel laureate."

"Do you know what this means? What seems like an artistic performance could very well turn into a political event."

Excited chatter could be heard from time to time from the crowd.

"I heard George Bernard Shaw is really coming?"

"Of course, it's all in the newspapers. He came all the way from London."

"I've read Kennedy's article. It's very well written, vividly portraying the true colors of those officials."

"I heard that tonight's play is adapted from his column. Judging from the style of his column, I guess it will be a piece that will make people laugh and cry."

In his office on the second floor of the theater, Arthur stood behind the curtains, looking down at the crowd below. Unbeknownst to him, his palms were already slightly sweaty.

Isabella handed him a glass of warm water: "Nervous?"

Arthur took the water glass and said frankly:

"A little. I've faced thugs before, and I've faced threats from the mayor, but I've never been this nervous as I am now."

Isabella said gently, "It's alright, Arthur, this is just the beginning for you."

She walked to the window and stood beside Arthur, looking down at the crowd below:

"Look at those people. They're not here for the spectacle; they're here to find resonance. Your writing gave them hope, letting them know they're not fighting alone. Now, your performance should give them even more."

Arthur nodded and took a deep breath. He knew Isabella was right; he would face many more such situations in the future.

Just then, a commotion suddenly broke out among the crowd downstairs, followed by enthusiastic applause and cheers.

A black luxury car slowly pulled up in front of the theater.

The car door opened, and an elderly man wearing a dark woolen overcoat and sporting a distinctive white beard stepped out.

George Bernard Shaw.

He looked very energetic, and although he was over seventy years old, his steps were still steady.

Facing the flashing lights and cheers of the crowd, he smiled and removed his top hat in greeting, his composure and elegance reminiscent of a gentleman from a bygone era.

Reporters swarmed forward like sharks smelling blood, flashing their cameras and illuminating the entire street as if it were daytime.

"Mr. George Bernard Shaw! What are your expectations for tonight's performance?"

"Mr. George Bernard Shaw, do you really believe this play can change New York?"

Why would you support the work of a young American?

George Bernard Shaw stopped in his tracks, a sly glint in his eyes.

He cleared his throat, his thick Irish accent carrying through the street on the cold wind:

"Change New York? Oh no, that's God's job, or the devil's job, depending on which side your mayor is on."

A burst of laughter erupted from the crowd. Some whistled, others clapped and cheered.

George Bernard Shaw clearly enjoyed the atmosphere.

He continued:

"I came here just to confirm one thing. I wanted to see if bureaucracy across the ocean was as stupid and ridiculous as it is in London. After all, stupidity knows no borders."

Another round of applause and laughter erupted. Reporters frantically took notes, and the flashes from their cameras intensified.

A reporter followed up with, "So what do you think of Mr. Kennedy's work?"

George Bernard Shaw paused, his voice becoming serious:

"Mr. Kennedy's work exposes the absurdity of the bureaucratic system through concise and powerful dialogue. As I have emphasized many times, this is exactly what theater should do."

"I support Mr. Kennedy because he has the courage to say what others dare not say. In this day and age, that kind of courage is more precious than anything else."

After saying this, he put his top hat back on and walked into the theater amidst a flurry of flashing lights.

An even louder round of applause erupted from the crowd.

Someone shouted, "Long live George Bernard Shaw!"

Someone shouted, "Long live Kennedy!"

Others shouted, "Down with bureaucracy!"

The police became tense, fearing the crowd would get out of control.

Fortunately, everyone remained restrained, simply clapping and cheering without engaging in any extreme behavior.

……

At the front desk, audience members entered one after another, and soon the theater was packed with people.

George Bernard Shaw was led to the center of the first row.

After he sat down, he looked around at the simple yet vibrant theater and a satisfied smile appeared on his face.

This is the real drama, he thought.

It's not those glamorous Broadway theaters, not those performances that only cater to the wealthy, but this kind of down-to-earth theater that serves ordinary people.

The lights dimmed, and the theater fell silent. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the curtain to rise.

Arthur stood backstage, looking at the audience, took a deep breath, and nodded to Lawson.

Lawson raised his hand, signaling the actors to get ready.

The curtain slowly rose.

The premiere of "Yes, Mayor" has officially begun.