Unworried Traveler

Premier Shigeru Yoshida, a barnacle-encrusted politician of 76, packed his beloved haori, hakama and tabi (ceremonial jacket, loose pants, split-toed white socks), put on his dark pin-stripe suit and wing collar, and whisked out to Tokyo's airport this week to begin a grand tour of North America and Europe.

A band of reporters persuaded the Premier into a pre-departure press conference, which he promptly took over with a rap of his cane on the floor. "I have something to say," he squeaked, "so I'll talk first." he was going to visit Canada, Britain, the Vatican, the Continent and the U.S. (for one quick stopover, then a formal visit in November), to win good will and loans for Japan, expand trade, smooth out some misgivings, and "thank" the U.S.--and especially General Douglas MacArthur--for helping Japan rise from defeat.

Reporters tried to draw him out on local questions, but brusque old Yoshida refused even to talk about the cries, recriminations and charges that were exploding around him. "You may entertain deep anxiety, but I do not," he declared. Next day, with three "banzais" from a small band of government functionaries, the Premier took off.

Refusal to Appear. The take-off had taken a long time in coming--since June, in fact, when Yoshida was originally scheduled to depart but was held back by a rousing brawl in the quaintly violent Japanese Diet. The quarrel was still on last week, much of it over Premier Yoshida, his independent and often highhanded conduct, his refusal to appear before a committee investigating reports of large-scale bribery involving Yoshida's administration and shipping interests. Some of his opponents paraded the streets and demonstrated before the Premier's house to prevent his departure, but Yoshida felt that the good-will trip could no longer be delayed, and deemed himself the only man with the reputation and power to make it worth while.

He was doubtless right. Except for one 17-month hiatus when a Socialist coalition held power (1947-48), the wily old political juggler has run Japan since a few months after the surrender. Under the U.S. occupation, he was a man of tough but resilient rubber: since sovereignty, he has been a man of iron. Critics call him malicious, contemptuous, autocratic. Even his admirers sometimes agree--adding, however, that he can be witty, urbane and charming. Recently, a top U.S. diplomat was asked: "Whom do you regard as the five most influential men in Japan?" The answer: "Yoshida, Yoshida, Yoshida, Yoshida and Yoshida."

Threat from Within. Rarely would a politician so intent on staying in power dare to leave home at a time when so much was being done to boot him out of command. Though most of the noise was coming from the extreme left and right, the real threat lay among men of Yoshida's own conservative stripe. Men like Ichiro Hatoyama of Yoshida's own Liberal Party, and Mamoru Shigemitsu, leader of the rival and equally conservative Progressives, were talking last week of forming a conservative coalition during Yoshida's absence, to force him out on his return. But if this worried foxy Shigeru Yoshida, he did not show it. If he can come back from his trip with some solid promises of U.S. aid for Japan's faltering economy, some evidence of new influence and new trade for Japan, he probably can hold on, at least until he chooses to retire on his own terms.

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