From Canton we flew to Peking in a Russian-made Ilyushin 18, just in time for May Day. That morning dawned warm and sunny, and Ch'ang-an, the city's main street, filled with thousands of people, marching or strolling to a people's park in the old Imperial City. We followed the crowds across a marble bridge into the gardens, where 11 outdoor theaters had been set up. Each presented excerpts from the Eight Revolutionary Exemplary Works (five operas, two ballets, and one concert) produced under the sponsorship of Mao's wife Chiang Ch'ing. A hundred thousand people had come to profit from the new culture.

Pollution Not Yet a Major Problem

That evening we were informed that Chou En-lai would like to see us, and so we proceeded to the Great Hall of the People, situated on T'ien-an Men Square, Peking's main plaza. The air was vibrating with music and the hubbub of a huge throng assembled for the May Day fireworks.

We walked through the open doors of the Great Hall to meet the Premier. He wore a neat gray Chinese tunic suit with a small Mao button reading "Serve the People." His eyes sparkled as he grasped my father's hand and welcomed him back to China. Then, after introductions, we went in to tea.

While the Premier and Dad sipped and chatted, I sat transfixed, staring at this living legend. It seemed incredible that this suave, handsome, almost delicate-looking man of 73 had been one of the leaders of the torturous Long March that saved the hardpressed Red Army to fight again another day. The vanguard, about 90,000 men of the First Front Army, left Kiangsi Province in the south in 1934. After 368 days, 18 mountain ranges, hundreds of skirmishes, and untold difficulties, 7,000 arrived in Shensi, in the north, where they were joined by other Red forces.

The Premier and Dad, whom Chou often referred to as his lao p'eng-yu (old friend), reminisced about their various meetings in former days. Then Dad said that if his lao p'eng-yu would come to Canada, he would personally cook Chou a Chinese meal there.