World: A VISIT TO CANTON

As China prepared for its National Day, celebrating the 18th anniversary this week of Mao Tse-tung's proclamation of a Chinese Communist state, Correspondent John Cantwell crossed into Mao's stricken land for TIME. An Australian who speaks both Cantonese and Mandarin, Cantwell spent several days in the big South China city of Canton, the scene of recent anti-Maoist riots and disorders. He found the city of 2,500,000 relatively quiet on the surface but seething underneath with barely repressed violence. His report:

CANTON'S railway station is an armed camp, guarded by scores of People's Liberation Army troops. You are met at the train by security officials who warn you not to leave your hotel at night and not to go far from it during the day without a guide. As you drive up Canton's main street—People's Way—you are hit by what has become China's graffiti. Every inch of just about every building is covered with posters, as if naughty children had been let loose with paint and brushes. Swarms of people gather around government-printed posters that show the downcast faces of men who have been executed for antirevolutionary activity. Other posters attack Chiang Kaishek, Lyndon Johnson and Mao's archrival, President Liu Shao-chi; some attack Mao himself. Posters are put up and ripped down by rival factions, and the city resembles a huge wastepaper basket.

Portraits of Mao are everywhere: in every home, on every wall, every train, every truck, every car, every bicycle, in every hotel room. My bed at the Tung Fang Hotel, the only place where foreigners can stay, was topped by a huge portrait of Mao with eyes that follow you all over the room. On another wall was a framed quotation of the Chairman's in a facsimile of his own handwriting. At one point I was the only Western visitor in Canton, and I sat alone in the huge baronial dining room of the hotel, faced on all sides by massive portraits of Chairman Mao with his sayings. The Chinese food was just passable, though Cantonese cuisine is traditionally rated the best in China. Service in the hotel did not exist.

Thousands of people surge up and down Canton's streets, and there is an overpowering feeling of agitation and frustration. Red Guards march around in vigilante groups, stern-faced and forbidding. People move rapidly out of their way. I saw them surround and berate an old man who dared look at an anti-Mao poster, which they promptly tore down. I was stopped several times by Red Guards who demanded identification and were only slightly mollified when I produced my passport. The Westerner is always aware of simmering malevolence toward him. While some still exhibit traditional Chinese graciousness, there are many more who shout obscenities at foreigners as they walk the streets. Hostile crowds sometimes surrounded me, and people shouted: "What are you doing here, white devil?" Practically no one smiles.