The mission was to spend US$500 million to buy American commodities—mainly agricultural—including barley, wheat, soybeans, corn, cotton, and fertilizer. I was appointed leader of the group—representatives of the Board of Foreign Trade, the Central Trust of China, the Taiwan Provincial Supply Bureau, the Taiwan Power Company, and the Chinese Petroleum Corporation, plus business and industrial executives intent on importing certain American commodities-all told, about 50 members.
The itinerary covered 23 cities scattered across 17 states, all to be visited in only one and a half months. This was indeed a tension-producing, highly detailed, and strenuous task. It boiled down to two main goals: to narrow the Republic of China's trade gap with the United States, and to strengthen people-to-people ties between the two countries through contact with American groups. When we embarked on our trip August 29, we were matchlessly high in confidence and in esprit de corps.
Our first stop was San Francisco where, during a two-day stay, we signed purchase contracts for 1.1 million pounds of almond nuts and 2.5 million pounds of raisins. Later, in Portland, Oregon, during a one-day, one-night whirlwind visit, we inked a contract for 120,000 tons of wheat and 50,000 tons of barley. At Lincoln City, Nebraska, we bought 120,000 tons of corn and 30,000 tons of wheat, and flew on to Kansas and Oklahoma. We never took a break. We reached our ninth destination, Cleveland, on the evening of September 16.
At each stop, we were welcomed at cocktail and dinner parties by governors, State legislators, local industrial and business leaders, and various other celebrities. Ohio was no exception. At first, we planned to take a bus to Columbus, the Ohio capital, immediately after arriving at Cleveland, in order to preside over a miscellaneous grains bidding ceremony and sign a contract. But on deplaning, we learned that U.S. Senator John Glenn and several of his assistants would be hosting a big party in Cleveland in our honor. Though tired, we got in trim and accepted the invitation.
In addition to Senator Glenn, our hosts also included Bill Morrell, head of the US-ROC Association, state government officials, industrial and business executives, and overseas Chinese leaders. Many other guests joined us. We shook many hands and exchanged many toasts amid the constant flashes of news photographers.
While I was talking to, then toasting Senator Glenn, the reporters rapidly fired a routine of questions:
—"What is the composition of the mission?"
—"What is your aim in Ohio?"
—"What commodities do you want to buy?"
—"How much do you intend to spend?"
—"Does this mission come to the States every year?"
—"Will it also visit Ohio next year?"
The reporters zeroed in on me, and I answered the questions one by one, without difficulty—I had been caught in such circumstances many times before, so I knew what they would ask and what was expected of me. All the reporters seemed contented enough. In the end, one of them asked:
"How come you speak English so fluently? Is this your first trip to the United States?"
I told him that I had been to the United States several times, my first time being 37 years ago; that I had lived in Ohio for more than two months, learning farming practices from Henry Schriver. I helped him harvest corn, make silage, feed the cattle, milk the cows, and pick pears and other fruits. We became close friends.
My explanation was overheard by those nearby, including Senator Glenn. They fielded their own questions and we became more friendly. My previous experiences in Ohio cut the ice, shortening my distance to them.
At dinner, I was guest of honor, seated to the right of Senator Glenn, who expressed his welcome to us in a short speech and commended our commodity purchases from his state. He also expressed his support for our country and said he hoped we would return to Ohio the next year. After his kind remarks, the Senator asked if anybody at the dinner party knew my old friend of 37 years ago, Henry Schriver. His question caused a stir of conversation, and I was disappointed when there was no response.
After dinner, we rushed on to Columbus by bus and next morning satisfactorily completed business negotiations at the city hall. After a contract was signed, Governor Rhodes invited the mission members to a luncheon. Also invited was Mr. Stackhouse, director of the Ohio state department of agriculture.
Mentioning my experience of 37 years ago, now constantly on my mind, I asked the agriculture director whether he know Henry Schriver. Much to my surprise, he told me that he not only knew him, but that Henry's farm was just 15 miles away from his own, in Grafton, Lorraine County.
This surprise discovery intrigued the luncheon guests, and Governor Rhodes offered to fly me to meet my old friend in his personal plane. The Governor's office called Henry and asked him to meet me at the airport.
I was so excited that I could not fall asleep that night. Scenes of the past came alive in my memory, just as in a movie. In my mind, I returned to my life of 37 years before.
The story began in the summer of 1945, when China was still locked in fierce struggle with Japan. I was working in Chungking when the U.S. Lend-Lease Program was launched. The government began recruiting agricultural, engineering, and business talent for further training in the United States. I succeeded in the screening examinations and won my first opportunity for a trip to America.
I was among more than 100 young people who had passed the examinations, flying to India by a military plane over the Hump, a major peak of the Himalayas, away from the battlesmoke that engulfed our motherland. After arriving in Calcutta, we boarded a U.S. naval transport returning via the Atlantic to New York City. At that time, World War II was at its peak, and we were in constant danger of air and sea attack. In the daytime, the ship sailed stealthily, making careful detours. At night, a blackout was enforced aboard ship, and the sailors girded themselves for battle. The ship was threading through the crevices of the war, but we were young and essentially ignorant of the danger. We rejoiced.
Sailing in the middle of the Indian Ocean, we heard on the ship's radio that the United States had hit Hiroshima with an atomic bomb and, later, that Japan had announced its surrender. We rejoiced all the more. We sang and frolicked to celebrate the end of China's bitter eight-year war with Japan. Justice had triumphed in the end. This joy was sustained through the entire voyage, all the way to New York.
We spent two days in New York and then proceeded to the U.S. Department of Agriculture in Washington, D.C., where I was assigned to Henry's farm in Lorraine County, Ohio. I stayed in his home, worked with him in the fields, and learned from him how to harvest corn with machinery, how to make cattle fodder by cutting corn ears into sections and then storing them in a silo. I also harvested fruit with him and went with him to truck it to Cleveland for sale; I was like a permanent hand on his farm. All this time, I dined with Henry and his family as one of the family members.
Henry was graduated from the University of Iowa-an honest, hardworking, devoted Christian, who treated me very, very well. He worked Monday through Saturday, but on Sundays, never failed to put on his suit and necktie and take his family to church. I was impressed by his religious devotion.
He was my teacher, but also my friend, and we worked together until I was reassigned to the southern states two months later. At about that time, I also took some agricultural courses at the University of Iowa. At the end of 1946, I completed a year's training and returned to my organization-which was now moved from Chungking to Nanking.
I still remember that after leaving Ohio, I wrote a letter to Henry to thank the whole family for their hospitality and to report my new assignment in the south. Over the interim years, we lost contact. When I had located my old friend after so many years. Confucius's words popped into my mind: "How happy a thing it is to meet a friend from a faraway land!"
I rose up early the next morning, then waited and waited until 7 o'clock, when the governor's car came to pick me up and take me to his plane at the airport. After landing about 30 minutes later, I saw a spirited "old-young man" with a lock of white hair. He opened wide his arms and rushed toward me. He called me "Bill, Bill," a name I no longer used. We grappled and could not speak for a long time. Then, he pulled a letter from his pocket:
"Bill, you know what this is? This is the letter you wrote me 35 years ago. I still keep it."
His words touched emotions deep in my heart, and the tears welled up in my eyes, beyond my control. I was proud of this friendship which had kept its warmth over such a long time. I just intended to call on him casually on my way. But I was rewarded one thousand, even ten thousand times what I paid. When I looked over the faded letter, I saw it did not bear the sender's address. Probably, I had omitted it because I was on the move when I wrote it. I did not follow it up. As we were leaving the airport, he told me:
"I have asked many Chinese about Bill Chang, but none knew the name. I was afraid you had been killed on the China mainland."
In truth, I never used Bill Chang as my name since my return to China. No wonder he could never identify me. I was sorry that such a warm friendship had been kept in the cold for such a long time-more than 30 years. If I had not had the chance to visit Ohio again, I would never have expected that I still had such a good friend in the world. I am lucky; It was much like recovering a kite after the line had snapped.
At Henry's house, I met his wife again; she was as healthy as ever, just a little bit older. Most of their children were married and had established their families in other places, only their youngest son staying with the farm to help. The farm was now completely mechanized and didn't need any more hands.
We drank coffee, ate cookies, recounted old, happy stories, and posed for pictures. Finally, we exchanged ad dresses, winding up the whole unforgettable morning.
I had to say goodbye because the mission's schedule was terribly tight, and I had to be back at the hotel by noon to join my group on the night on to Tennessee to continue with our task.
My rendezvous with Henry Schriver was my greatest reward of the trip. The event testifies to the fact that the rupture of official relations between the United States and the Republic of China is just a surface crack. The real relationship between the two peoples is still as strong as ever; the interflow of unalterable friendships will never be sundered, either by time or by space.