"Hey King

Acutely aware of anti-Americanism in Iraq, the State Department decided last spring that it had better give 17-year-old King Feisal II a sales pitch; it invited him to visit the U.S.

As the liner Queen Mary brought Feisal into New York Harbor last week, however, his official hosts could hardly avoid a horrible second thought: What if he saw America and didn't like it? They could not forget that another Feisal (the son of Saudi Arabia's Ibn Saud) had been picketed and spat upon in New York by

Jewish extremists and had gone home full of untold hatred for the U.S. They watched beadily as the slim, smiling youth received the first, custard-pie impact of an American welcome.

A jostling horde of photographers fired flashlights at him and bawled, "Hey King --one more!" Ship news reporters asked him what he thought of teen-age dating (he said, in the immaculate public-school accent he had learned at Britain's Harrow, that he didn't know anything about it) and whether he was going to get married (he had given the matter no thought). When he announced that he was a Dodgers fan, the newsmen cried incredulously: "Why?" "I understand," said Feisal politely, "that they are one of the more important teams." Through it all he veiled his reactions behind an inscrutable and dreamy smile.

As befitted an admirer of the glorious Bums, he quickly made a pilgrimage to Ebbets Field. "Who are those persons over there?" he asked curiously, as the teams warmed up. "Those," said Dodgers' President Walter O'Malley heartily, "are the hated Giants." The King smiled. He was duly introduced to Jackie Robinson and Dodgers' Manager Charlie Dressen and shook hands heartily--although Robinson, for one, displayed a certain air of suspicion when he was summoned to meet "the King." Feisal betrayed only polite interest as Leo Durocher screamed at the umpire and rooters filled the air with horrid sound. When the Giants' Bobby Thomson hit a home run he smiled at O'Malley in congratulation, apparently feeling that this was good for the Dodgers.

"He has a very good grasp of the game," said O'Malley, with an effort, afterward. "He was quick to see the difference between cricket and baseball." Said the King, "At cricket they only clap. They do not cheer." As time passed, all sorts of bizarre things befell Feisal. He rode to City Hall in an open car while noontime crowds craned at him curiously. He took a regular $1.40 tour of Radio City. In the midst of it a news photographer, afraid of being barred by cops, handed the King his camera and said: "Here--you take the pictures." Feisal complied, snapped busily away all during the tour. As a fast elevator lifted him 70 stories in the RCA Building, a lady guide told him to relieve the pressure in his ears by swallowing. He swallowed dutifully, thoughtfully, repeatedly.

He drank orange juice at cocktail parties. He steered a sightseeing boat in the Harlem River at the invitation of its skipper. He inspected a 50-million-barrel-a-year oil refinery in New Jersey, was told that it handles 50 times more oil than his whole country produces, and was handed a chunk of hot synthetic rubber. He was flown from New York to Washington, was taken to the White House for lunch with the President. Among the guests were both Chief Justice Fred Vinson and Harry Vaughan. The King shook hands and smiled, impartially, at all.

At week's end the Government's official nudging, shielding and introducing force had yet to figure out just what Feisal was thinking about anything. He had four weeks more to go, and perhaps would react more strongly to Detroit production lines and western dams. But at the moment only one conclusion was possible: the King had a nice smile.

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