(2 of 2)
Saburo Kurusu was tired. He went to bed early. Next morning, beyond Chicago, the envoy read the violently isolationist Chicago Tribune: REPEAL u.s. NEUTRALITY ACT. Yet if he looked more closely at that edition of the paper he could have found reason for comfort. There were editorials saying that the U.S. was being tricked into war, two stories about bitter U.S.-British quarrels, a half-dozen about U.S. divorces, three about U.S. murders, many about U.S. strikes. By the time he reached LaGuardia Field, Saburo Kurusu was a little fresher. "This country is the land of liberty," said he. "Please give me the liberty of silence. I want to rest."
There was no chance to rest. The plane that carried Saburo Kurusu to Washington passed over the manufacturing plants that stretch like a single enormous factory to the Maryland line, over the giant Martin airplane plant. Saburo Kurusu was reaching the end of the enormous room. He had glimpsed steel, oil, aircraft and other productive facilities that make pygmies of those which Japan possesses. At Washington airport the only U.S. official on hand was amiable Joseph Ballantine, assistant chief of the State Department's Far Eastern Division. Envoy Kurusu no longer spoke of touchdowns. "Finishing my long and strenuous trip . . . courtesy of American Governmental officials . . . I still feel I have a fighting chance for the success of my mission. . . ."
A day passed while he rested. With Ambassador Nomura he called on Secretary Hull, remained 23 minutes, visited the White House where, at the end of the enormous room, President Roosevelt was waiting. When he emerged, an hour and ten minutes later, a reporter asked Nomura if he felt the discussion was successful. Saburo Kurusu nudged Nomura into silence. The U.S. speculated. But at week's end things stood as they had when Kurusu arrived.
Then a reporter had asked: "What would you put on your chances for success?"
Said Kurusu, with a short laugh: "You are the bookmakers."