Talking Peace and Pork Chops

By Hugh Sidey

A White House dinner is the American family assembled, from labor leaders to billionaires, actors, architects, academicians and athletes. They gathered last Tuesday in honor of China's Premier Zhao Ziyang, who governs more people than anyone else in this world.

The White House is modest by the palatial standards of Europe and Asia and especially dwarfed by the Chinese and Soviet ceremonial chambers. That is its charm. When people travel here from across the country, they shed jealousies and politics and prejudices. They crowd around the fires that subdue the winter chill and become neighbors. The mighty climb down. The humble are elevated.

Zhao Ziyang for all of his billion constituents, seemed in the evening's lovely glow like a favorite uncle, smiling a little too much, wanting to be a bit American, talking about peace and pork chops.

Redskins Quarterback Joe Theismann looked beneficent, his eyes cast up to the oil painting of the Great Emancipator above the mantel of the state dining room, his throwing arm restrained by his tuxedo, his hands folded as in supplication, his partner the dainty Nancy Reagan instead of the "diesel" John Riggins. In his dignified spectacles, Actor Burt Reynolds could have been taken for a professor of Chinese art. At his side was Dinah Shore, gracefully gowned with Hollywood-style decolletage.

Former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger looked as if he had never left the East Room. Zbigniew Brzezinski, who was Jimmy Carter's Kissinger, gave the impression with his engaging smile that he would stay if he were just asked again.

Former Texas Governor John Connally was more like a movie star than the movie stars, with the exception of Gregory Peck, who still makes one expect Moby Dick to swim in after him. Shirley Temple Black, who visited the White House in 1938 at age ten, still had much of the sparkle of Little Miss Marker. There were Rockefellers and Roosevelts and Boeing Chief T. Wilson and Los Angeles Olympics Wizard Peter Ueberroth.

There was a fellow named Harrison who led the U.S. Ping Pong team to China back in 1971, and Connie Chung, the NBC anchor whose parents and four sisters were born in China and who bravely tried her Chinese on Zhao, who bravely professed understanding. Ruth Graham, Billy's beautiful wife, sat on the President's left. Billy was on duty, making arrangements in Europe for his crusade, the only thing that could keep him away. The devil and Richard Nixon did not.

The night smelled of the promise of spring. Tiny cherry trees had been forced to yield a few of their delicate blooms. Flowering quince and more cherry branches curled from huge vases. There were roses, tulips, lilacs, azaleas, camellias and hyacinths in clusters and stunning cascades.

The sparkling wine used for the toasts (Schramsberg Cremant Demi-sec 1981) lacked luster. But the California red (Silver Oak Cabernet Sauvignon 1978) was a western rainbow, smooth and joyous. The beef farci en croute was a might overdone, but the candy sculpture of birds and flowers (all edible) that decorated the dessert servings was exquisite.

The night's heroics were performed by a tiny sergeant of the Army's Strolling Strings. Without flinching, she fiddled a mere two feet from the ear of Violin Virtuoso Isaac Stern, who would play Beethoven later.

Some time during dinner, snow began to fall, huge tumbling white flakes limned in the lights beyond the tall windows. The candles cast moving shadows on the walls. The people hushed and pulled closer together, reminded by the artistry of God and man of the good things this nation can do.