America 1929: John F. Kennedy, the Great Writer

The audience reluctantly began to leave after the actors took three curtain calls.

But no one was in a hurry to leave. The theater entrance was packed with people, all excitedly discussing what they had just witnessed.

Dockworkers and university professors stood side by side, bank clerks and artists argued passionately, and Democrats and Republicans reached a rare consensus.

This kind of scene is rare in New York.

Arthur stood backstage, Isabella holding his hand, her palms sweaty.

Isabella whispered:

"You did it, you really did it."

Lawson rushed over from the side and gave Arthur a bear hug:

"Kid! Do you know what? We just made history!"

Williams also came over, his face showing unusual excitement:

"That's fantastic! If we continue touring this show, our revenue this year will be no problem at all!"

But Arthur's attention wasn't on any of that. He saw the two men in the front row through the gap in the side curtain.

George Bernard Shaw and Roosevelt.

The presence of these two individuals elevated tonight's performance beyond art itself, transforming it into something much larger.

Just then, a theater staff member ran over:

"Mr. Kennedy, Mr. Shaw, and the Governor wish to see you. They are waiting for you in the VIP lounge."

As expected, Arthur could tell that they certainly weren't just there to watch a play.

Isabella pushed him:

"Go ahead, don't keep them waiting too long."

……

The so-called VIP lounge is actually just a storage room backstage, used to store props and costumes.

But tonight, it was urgently cleared out and furnished with a few chairs and a small table.

The room was very small, only a dozen square meters, and there were a few theatrical costumes hanging on the wall.

But the two people sitting inside at this moment filled this simple space with a certain solemnity.

George Bernard Shaw sat in a chair. At seventy-three, he was still vigorous, his eyes as sharp as a young man's.

Roosevelt sat at the table, flipping through a script, the manuscript of "Yes, Mayor".

His upper body was strong and powerful, but his legs hung limply, a permanent injury left by polio.

Arthur pushed the door open and came in; the two of them looked up at the same time.

George Bernard Shaw said in heavily Irish-accented English:

"Ah, our young genius, come here, let me take a good look at you."

He sized up Arthur, a hint of amusement in his eyes:

"Younger than I expected. How old are you? Twenty-five? Twenty-six?"

Arthur said:

"Twenty-four."

George Bernard Shaw burst into laughter:

"Twenty-four! When I was twenty-four, I was working for a real estate company and writing novels that nobody read. You've already written something that can shake the whole of New York."

Roosevelt put down his script and pointed to the chair opposite him:

"Please sit down, Mr. Kennedy. We'd like to have a word with you."

His voice was gentle but carried a natural authority, a quality cultivated from long-term high positions.

Arthur sat down, feeling like a student being summoned by the principal.

The room was silent for a few seconds.

George Bernard Shaw broke the silence:

"Do you know why I'm in New York?"

Arthur said:

"I read about it in the newspaper before. Are you here to attend a lecture?"

George Bernard Shaw scoffed:

"Lecture? That's just the public way of putting it. Actually, I'm here to attend an internal seminar hosted by Fabian Society. The discussion is about how to deal with this economic crisis and how to advance gradual reforms."

In 1884, a group of London intellectuals founded the Fabian Society, named after the ancient Roman general Fabius Maximus, who was known for avoiding direct confrontation and using a protracted war to wear down Hannibal.

The Fabian Society's philosophy is similar: not violent revolution, but gradual transformation of society through education, legislation, and public opinion.

George Bernard Shaw, Sherry Webber and his wife, and H.G. Wells were among its core members.

But George Bernard Shaw was clearly not very satisfied with that seminar.

His tone was sarcastic:

"A bunch of self-important professors sitting in a well-heated room, discussing what the working class should do. A group of people who have never done a day's work, talking about how the working class can benefit—it's utter nonsense."

Arthur's heart skipped a beat.

George Bernard Shaw continued:

"So I came out to clear my head. Then I saw in Le Monde the news about the mayor's office publicly pressuring the theater to force you to stop performing, and the report that your box office wasn't doing well."

"I immediately thought of the manuscript Hemingway sent me; this kind of drama cannot be buried."

Roosevelt then spoke, picking up the script on the table and turning to a certain page:

"You wrote here, 'The procedure is designed to protect vested interests, not to solve problems.' That's an interesting statement. What are you implying?"

Then Roosevelt began to talk about his views on some current policy procedures.

Overall, Arthur sensed that Roosevelt was not satisfied with the current Congress's attempts to improve the economic situation.

However, Arthur felt that Roosevelt's visit today couldn't simply be to support him or give him a lecture.

He doesn't realize how important he is right now.

He looked at Roosevelt, trying to glean more information from his expression.

He didn't believe this person was simply there to see a play.

Roosevelt was elected governor of New York in 1928 by a narrow margin.

He promised reforms during his campaign, but now, just over a month after the economic crisis broke out, New York's financial and manufacturing industries have been hit hardest, with unemployment soaring and public discontent boiling over.

This is both a crisis and an opportunity.

If Roosevelt could demonstrate strong leadership at this time, he could build prestige among the people and pave the way for a higher position in the future.

Arthur's thoughts suddenly clicked.

Roosevelt is here tonight not to watch a play, but to put on a show.

As the new gubernatorial election approached in 1930, he needed to cultivate a public image:

An enlightened governor who supports freedom of speech, a reformer who dares to confront corrupt forces, and a leader who stands with the people.

And tonight's performance provides just such a stage.

Governor Roosevelt sat in the front row watching a satirical play about the mayor, while Mayor Walker was turned away.

The image itself is a powerful political statement.

What will tomorrow's newspapers report?

Governor supports criticism, mayor becomes enraged

Roosevelt and Shaw enjoyed a satirical play together, but Walker was turned away.

Reformist Governor vs. Corrupt Mayor: A Political Storm Triggered by Drama

These headlines are more effective than a hundred of Roosevelt's speeches.

The best part is that Roosevelt didn't have to do anything. He just had to sit there, smile, watch the performance, and then say a few nice words in support of artistic freedom.

The media and the public will take care of the rest.

Arthur admired Roosevelt's political wisdom.

That's what a true master does. Calm and collected, using minimal effort to achieve maximum effect.

Arthur was still thinking when Roosevelt suddenly asked:

"What are you thinking about?"

Arthur came to his senses:

"I think you must have thought this through carefully before coming here tonight."