The Candidate

From Tokyo, TIME Correspondent Richard Lauterbach cabled:

The Potsdam Declaration stated that the Japanese people would choose their own form of government. This week, Hirohito began his campaign to be kept on as Emperor. He was running on a New Deal ticket.

"The Hat." Outfitted in a fly-front, oxford-grey topcoat, a pearl-grey felt hat which looked as if it had been sat upon, a dark business suit, blue shirt and white collar, the new Hirohito sallied forth on his first campaign tour. It was only his third peek at the world outside his carp-filled moat since the war's end. He left the palace grounds sitting bolt upright in a big, black Mercedes-Benz. Behind streamed a caravan of 40 other cars.

The procession sped across the bomb-scarred wasteland from Tokyo to Yokohama. Through his thick glasses Hirohito gazed on his country's devastation. Along the bumpy route his people--shabby, shivering, shambling--greeted their ruler's bizarre cavalcade with bewildered reverence.

Hirohito stepped stiffly from his car at the Showa Electrical Co. plant near Yokohama. Past officials and workers standing at attention with Sunday smiles, he pattered like a not-quite-recuperated invalid treading on eggshells. While functionaries droned through tedious reports, Hirohito clasped and unclasped his hands, shifted from foot to foot, blinked and nodded. When it was all over, he sighed, "Ah so." Then His Majesty wandered like a scared mouse through the maze of plant wreckage. Before one of the workers, lined up to get their first imperial glimpse, he paused nervously. "How long have you been working here?" "Fifteen years." "Ah so," said the Emperor. "So desu" ("That is so"), snapped the worker with finality. Following chalk marks, Hirohito approached an aged, dirty-faced woman. "Are you working hard?" "Yes, I'm doing my best," stammered the woman. "Ah so desu," concluded Hirohito, bowing stiffly.

That afternoon, after munching cheese sandwiches and a hard-boiled egg, Hirohito started out again. At a home for war sufferers he was visibly moved as he guided his pointed tan shoes from dingy room to dingy room. He spotted a soldier with a wooden leg, addressed the man's wife: "Where did your husband get wounded?" "The Philippines," answered the woman. "Ah so," said the Emperor. "In the Philippines. Ah so. You have children. I'm sorry. This place is rather cold. But it will become warmer. I hope you will cheer up." The woman bawled. Embarrassed, Hirohito darted out.

How to Treat the Press. On the roof of a Yokohama office building, the Emperor blinked out over the devastated city, peered at the harbor through binoculars. American photographers surrounded him. As he prepared to leave, I started for the staircase. Somehow the Emperor, got there at the same moment. I backed off. Hirohito backed off. I said "Dozo" ("Please"). After a second we both started again and then checked. A worried aide bowed and extended a gloved hand toward the stairs. "No, I cannot go in front of the Emperor," I said. Hirohito deadpanned.

"If you please, it is preferable if you go first," said the aide after exchanging a black look with His Majesty. Slowly I descended in front of the Son of Heaven. "Thank you," he said, as he passed me at the bottom.

Seven hours after he had crossed the moat, Hirohito returned to the palace. He had seen more people and more people had seen him that day than ever before. A few would think he had lost face, but most were pleased with the Emperor's new tactics. Hirohito knew what he was doing.

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