America 1929: John F. Kennedy, the Great Writer

Thurber returned to the editorial office of The New Yorker in the evening.

He usually organizes his notes and outlines the structure first, and then writes slowly.

But this time was different. He sat at the typewriter and wrote quickly, as if the words had already taken shape in his mind and were just waiting to be released.

The title is: "The Truth in the Basement".

The next morning, when editor-in-chief Harold Ross saw the manuscript, he frowned.

Ross was a cautious man. After twenty years as an editor, he had seen too many journalists lose objectivity because they became too involved. He picked up the manuscript, read it from beginning to end, and then read it again.

Ross put down his manuscript and looked at him: "Thurber, this isn't like you."

Thurber, who was tidying up his notes on the table, looked up when he heard this: "What's not quite right?"

Ross tapped the table: "You're usually more restrained, more objective. But this article reads like... like you've been persuaded. You're not reporting an event, you're defending a point of view."

Thurber paused for a few seconds, then said, "Because I was indeed convinced."

Ross sighed. "Do you know what this means? City Hall has put pressure on us, warning us not to side with Kennedy. If we publish this article, they'll say we've lost objectivity."

Thurber stood up and said seriously, "Harold, you should go see that rehearsal. It's not just any play; it's a mirror, a mirror of our lives."

"Those actors, some were students, some were extras, they rehearsed in a damp basement, unpaid, with no future, but they were more dedicated than those Broadway actors who were paid high salaries. Why? Because they believed that this play told the truth."

Ross looked at Thurber and saw that gleam in his eyes. It was the gleam of a journalist uncovering an important story.

"Do you really think this play is worth the risk?" Ross asked.

"It's not an adventure, it's our duty. If we don't report the truth and support those who speak the truth, what's the point of doing journalism?"

Ross remained silent for a long time. He picked up the manuscript again, read it through once more, and finally decided to publish the article, but with an editor's note as a disclaimer.

The article was published in the culture section of The New Yorker, taking up three full pages. The editorial team had anticipated a strong response, but not one as intense as this.

The magazine sold out on the morning of its release.

The editorial office phone hasn't stopped ringing since nine in the morning.

Operator Mary answered the first call; it was from a reader asking where they could see the play. She had barely hung up when the phone rang again, with the same question.

By 10 o'clock, Mary had answered more than 30 phone calls and her voice was hoarse. She had to ask colleagues from other departments for help.

Ross stood in the center of the editorial office, looking at the busy operators and the mountain of reader mail, a look of shock on his face. He turned to Thurber and said:

"I've been an editor for twenty years, and I've never seen a cultural report generate such a strong reaction."

Thurber was somewhat surprised. He walked to the window and looked down at the street. A crowd had gathered around the newsstand, all scrambling to buy copies of The New Yorker.

At the editorial meeting, Ross told Thurber, "Your article has sparked a discussion. Now everyone is talking about Kennedy's play, about the absurdity of the bureaucracy."

Thurber felt a sense of satisfaction he had never experienced before:

"This is exactly what we need. News should not only report facts, but also provoke thought."

Ross nodded, but then his expression turned serious:

"I agree. But we also need to be careful. Some people at City Hall have already expressed their dissatisfaction. The Director of Culture, Brown, called this morning and said that our reporting was 'biased,' 'not objective enough,' and 'misleading to the public.'"

"What else did they say?" Thurber asked.

"They said Kennedy's play was a smear campaign against the government and an attempt to incite public discontent. They implied that if we continued to report in this way, it could affect The New Yorker's relationship with the city government."

Thurber's answer was firm:

"Let them talk. If 'objectivity' means remaining silent about absurdity, then I'd rather not be objective."

Ross looked at Thurber, remained silent for a moment, and then said:

"I support you. But you need to understand that this isn't just about you. The entire New Yorker will be under pressure because of this article."

Thurber said, "I understand, but some things have to be done. If we don't step up, who will?"

The New Yorker's report had a ripple effect.

Other media outlets began to follow suit. The New York Post sent a reporter to the dockside basement, and the Brooklyn Eagle interviewed several actors involved in the rehearsals.

However, the actors were cautious and unwilling to say much. They knew that the city hall was watching the play closely, and any inappropriate remarks could cause trouble for the production team.

……

In a classroom at New York University.

Professor Jason of the Political Science Department put down his pipe and said, "Kennedy's play asked a good question. Everyone in the White House claims to be working hard. But why are things getting worse? Is working hard itself wrong?"

The students immediately started discussing it.

A student in a sharp suit said, "The rules are outdated. Hoover is still relying on local governments to solve problems on their own; that won't work. We need a stronger federal plan."

Another student wearing glasses countered, "Rules are made by people. Councilors 'seriously' work for the benefit of their constituencies, and bankers 'seriously' make money. Everyone has their own self-interest; how can rules not have self-interest?"

A simply dressed student said, "The problem is, who are they accountable to? Officials are accountable for procedures, for budgets, but not for the people who are starving. In Kennedy's play, the official follows the procedures flawlessly, and the lives of the workers are none of his concern."

Professor Jason nodded: "Well said. Perhaps this play is saying that the more seriously people follow procedures, the further they get from what they should really be doing."

……

When Arthur saw the New Yorker article at the newspaper office, he smiled and said to Isabella:

"Thurber is a good journalist; he saw the essence of what we are doing."

Isabella observed his expression: "Aren't you worried? All of New York is watching us."

"What's there to worry about? George Bernard Shaw's praise brought us to the world's attention, and Thurber's reporting... made New Yorkers understand why we're doing this."

"Thurber has raised expectations, which is good. Because this play should have such high expectations to begin with."

Just then, Hemingway pushed open the door and walked in, his face beaming with excitement:

Have you seen Lippmann's article?

Arthur and Isabella exchanged a glance and shook their heads.