Bloodsucking Rice Worms

Ordinarily, Shanghai's "Heavenly Voice" radio station has no more harmless or popular broadcaster than its funnyman, Hsiao Kuai-leh (Little Happiness). But about a fortnight ago, as the price of rice continued its upward hike, a big unhappiness fell upon Little Happiness. Into Heavenly Voice's microphone he sang a song entitled The Bloodsucking Rice Worms. It ran like this:

The poor are sallow as a female rat;

They gnaw roots and husks.

Rice merchants pay no heed--their

conscience is black--

They grab and hoard.

They are rich rice worms who fill their

bellies, line their pockets, build new

houses, buy fine cars, keep concubines.

The response was terrific. By mail and telephone, listeners called for encores. Nanking broadcasters picked up the song. But amid the bouquets were some brickbats.

"If the Price Is High." Wrote one angry rice merchant: "You little-devil-just -out -of -your -mother's -womb, how dare you try to catch a fly on the tiger's head! If the price of rice is high, why are we merchants to blame? Take care lest one of your ancestors was a rice worm--in which case you're cursing your own forefathers. Be reasonable or you may regret it. . . ." Undaunted, Little Happiness sang on.

Last week in Shanghai, frightened and furious over persistent mob raids on their shops (nine in one day), some 300 rice merchants milled in front of City Hall. They shouted for protection. Mayor K. C. Wu refused it. They called for a gag on Little Happiness. Mayor Wu refused that. Someone cried: "Let's go to Heavenly Voice radio station and take care of Little Happiness ourselves!" Others echoed, "Let's go!"

Along the way, on Kiukiang Road, a bystander catcalled: "Rice worms! Rice worms!" They cuffed and kicked him.

"If Beaten to Death." At the Heavenly Voice studio they first mistook a bobbed-haired girl performer for Little Happiness, chased and lost her in a nearby theater. Then they turned on the studio itself--breaking equipment and furniture until the police arrived and nabbed ten of the gang. Still smarting, they marched to Little Happiness' home, on Yunnan Road, climbed up to his second-story flat, slapped his wife. But of the thin, sharp face of Little Happiness they found not so much as a smirk. He was elsewhere, in hiding.

At 9 o'clock that night Little Happiness emerged, issued a statement to the press: "I'll broadcast more than ever. I'm preparing my will, and I hope the newspapers will print it if I'm beaten to death."

At week's end the price of rice, up more than 100% in a month, was 320,000 Chinese dollars a picul (133 1/3 lbs.). Worried authorities sought to bridle it with a program of ration cards, ceiling prices, warnings to hoarders and manipulators, and assurances of ample supply. But many a rice shop, in fear and protest and in the face of restless queues, stubbornly stayed shut. And unhappy Little Happiness still sang his bitter song.

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