The Press: Mission to Washington

In the stately Congressional Room of Washington’s modernistic Hotel Statler, 350 eager editors hunched forward in their chairs. On the platform were three Soviet journalists who had flown the ocean to be interviewed by the American Society of Newspaper Editors.

Izvestia’s slight, greying, top war cor respondent Ilya Ehrenburg, Red Star’s mustached young (30) novelist Konstantin (Days & Nights) Simonov, and Pravda’s chunky General Mikhail Galaktionov had arrived the afternoon before, wilted and bleary-eyed from their trip. Now, after a good night’s sleep at their Embassy, they were ready for questions.

One for the Cops. Asked the U.S.

News’s sonorous David Lawrence: “Moscow is a great capital, and yet there are only about ten U.S. correspondents there.

Why should the New York Times have to wait three and four months to get visas for their correspondents?” Ehrenburg’s answer came back through the translator: “I personally will be glad to see many newspapermen in our country.

But this is the kind of thing that must be referred, as it is in all countries, to the police agencies. It is not for the journalists.” White-haired Tom Wallace of the Louis ville Times wanted to know: “If I do get in, can I go where I want to and write what I like?” Said Ehrenburg: “I do not give the visas. If I had the authority, I would give them liberally. Maybe it is be cause of this that I do not give them. . . .

As soon as we get back to Russia, we shall raise the question as to the exchange of correspondents in a broader way.” For that, the editors gave him a big hand. Facile Ilya Ehrenburg, easily the star of the show, had his hosts goggle-eyed with admiration for the dexterous way he handled himself. Roundheaded General Galaktionov popped up for occasional slow, emphatic replies; dapper Author-Playwright Simonov sat in a smoldering haze of cigaret smoke and let his elders do the talking.

Just Supposing. Robert Glass, son of Virginia’s Senator Carter Glass and editor of the Lynchburg News, tossed them a tough one: would any Russian newsman have the right to write an article demanding Stalin’s removal? Ehrenburg coolly sidestepped, punctuating his reply with quick gestures of his small hands: “Categorically no! I must say that different peoples must understand the psychology of other people. . . . Sometimes people are uncertain.

Sometimes we have all found ourselves in a position where you couldn’t tell what would be done. . . .”

The editors chuckled at this smooth doubletalk. Cracked Chairman Erwin D. (“Spike”) Canham, editor of the Christian Science Monitor: “Newspapermen the world over are very much alike.” Ehrenburg shot him a grateful grin, while the interpreter hastened to finish translating Ehrenburg’s previous remarks: “We know that when the Germans were on the outskirts of the city, Stalin stayed in Moscow. Stalin is dear to our hearts. . . .” Suggested Canham: would the visitors like to ask a few questions for a change? Gracefully, Ilya Ehrenburg declined.

Some other time, he said.