America 1929: John F. Kennedy, the Great Writer

Even though Hearst, who was far away in California, was trying to avoid the limelight, he still saw these things.

He sat in his seaside estate in St. Simon, holding a telegram from New York with the latest news about Arthur Kennedy.

The estate, costing millions of dollars, was a symbol of his power and wealth. But at this moment, his attention was entirely focused on those few thin newspapers.

Sales of The New York Herald continued to rise, and Arthur's notes on playwriting sparked widespread discussion.

Labor unions are organizing book clubs, students are debating on campus, and ordinary citizens are discussing it on the streets. This bottom-up fermentation of public opinion is the most dangerous.

Hearst put down the newspaper and lit a cigar.

He has worked in journalism for forty years and has seen countless challengers, some talented, some courageous, and some idealistic.

But most people fail, not because they are not good enough, but because they do not understand the rules.

The rules in the press are simple: whoever controls the channels of communication controls the discourse.

Arthur now has a small newspaper, some loyal readers, and some union support.

If he continues to expand his influence, if his plays are truly successful, if he becomes a voice for the working class, then he's in trouble.

Hearst picked up the phone and dialed a New York number.

"Thomas, have you seen Kennedy's playwriting notes?"

"I see, sir," Thomas's voice came through the receiver.

"Very good. Now it's time to take action."

"What do you mean?"

"Organize critical articles. Criticize him from a professional perspective. Don't attack his motives, attack his abilities. Find several theater critics and have them write articles. Focus on two aspects: professional standards and the misappropriation of resources."

"Professional requirements?" Thomas wrote down on the other end of the phone.

"Yes. It emphasizes that theatrical creation requires professional training and is not something just anyone can do. Kennedy did not receive professional training, so his attempt was destined to fail."

This strategy is ingenious; instead of saying Arthur's idea is bad, it points out that he lacks the ability to implement it.

Instead of saying he shouldn't criticize the government, people say he chose the wrong approach.

Such criticism sounds objective, rational, and even tinged with regret.

"What about resource misappropriation?" Thomas continued to ask.

"It's important to emphasize the current economic difficulties and limited resources. Kennedy is wasting money and energy on theater. These resources should be used on more pressing issues, such as providing relief to unemployed workers."

This angle is even more ruthless.

It portrays Arthur's idealism as irresponsible, implying that Arthur is playing an art game while the workers starve. This would create moral unease among Arthur's supporters.

"I understand," Thomas said.

"Remember, keep your tone objective, as if you're speaking from a professional perspective, not out of personal grudges. Make the reader feel that you're thinking of him and regret that he went down the wrong path."

"I'll make the arrangements."

Thomas immediately took action. He sat in his office with a list in front of him of New York's most influential theater critics.

Some people are true experts, while others are just writers who can produce beautiful articles.

But they all have one thing in common: they need the newspaper's support.

Critics' livelihoods depend on the space newspapers give them. Without space, their articles go unread.

If no one watches, they lose influence. Without influence, they are nothing.

So when Thomas called them, they were very polite.

The first person he called was Robert Benchley of his own newspaper, The New York Daily News, asking him to analyze Arthur's script from a professional perspective and "objectively point out the difficulties he may face."

He then called George Jane Nathan of the American Courier, implying that Arthur's focus on theater during this period of economic hardship was a "priority issue."

Finally, he contacted John Anderson of the New York Evening Post, requesting that the project's "challenges in terms of team, funding, and venue" be mentioned in a news report.

The three articles were published simultaneously the following day.

The first to launch an attack was Robert Benchley's column in the New York Daily News, titled "Jokes are not dramas."

He bluntly admitted, "Arthur Kennedy's writing notes are full of irony and humor, but being funny does not equal being effective."

He believes that the foundation of drama is not simply piling up jokes: "Drama needs structure, rhythm, and resonance, not just laughter."

In his view, Arthur's clever jokes were like scattered pearls, lacking a unifying thread.

"They satirize bureaucratic logic, but lack the warmth of humanity and the glimmer of hope. After the audience laughs, they will probably only feel a kind of intelligent emptiness."

Benchley's article is very professional, citing many theories of drama.

He mentioned Aristotle's Poetics, Shakespeare's structural techniques, and the development trends of modern drama.

His conclusion was that Arthur needed to learn, find a professional director, and work with professional actors. Otherwise, the project was likely to fail.

Following this, George Jane Nathan raised an even more pointed question in the American Courier: "Art or Relief?"

He will elevate the discussion to the level of the moral allocation of social resources.

"At a time of economic collapse and countless families in distress, we must question the prioritization of resources."

He did not deny the value of art, but emphasized: "Drama can wait, but unemployed workers cannot."

He believes that using the union's limited space and resources for job training or community relief is perhaps more urgent than staging a political satire.

"What people need most right now is a job, not a lesson on the logic of how government works."

He offered a seemingly tolerant suggestion: "Perhaps Mr. Kennedy should wait for a more suitable opportunity."

Finally, John Anderson played the role of a pragmatic analyst in his New York Evening Post report, "The Distance Between Ideal and Reality."

He calmly listed the five real challenges the project would face.

His conclusion was: "Ideals are beautiful, but reality is harsh. The distance between ideals and reality is often farther than imagined."

Although he did not directly deny it, each of the problems he listed was intended to outline the seemingly insurmountable gap in front of an amateur idealist.

The three articles construct a critical line from three perspectives: artistry, social relevance, and feasibility. Their common subtext is: Arthur Kennedy, a columnist and editor, should perhaps stay in his more familiar territory.

After these articles were published, public opinion began to diverge.