Contact in Paris

In their Shanghai communique, Premier Chou En-lai and President Nixon agreed to establish a permanent channel for Sino-American contacts. Washington and Peking have now settled on the location as (where else?) Paris.

One morning last week U.S. Ambassador to France Arthur K. Watson pulled up in his beflagged Cadillac outside the Chinese embassy at 11 Avenue George-V. He was ushered alone into the richly decorated embassy* to meet his Chinese counterpart, Huang Chen.

Over Chinese seed cake and tea, the two men talked through an interpreter for 50 minutes. They did not discuss any substantive issues, but they set up arrangements for the next meeting, which will probably be held in the U.S. embassy. At the close of the visit, Huang escorted Watson back to his car. Watson in turn called Huang "cher ami," and told newsmen, "We had a very warm and friendly discussion, and we hope it is the beginning of many others."

The pronounced cordiality of the Sino-American contact contrasted sharply with the abrasive hostility that has marked the long-stalled Viet Nam peace talks. In fact, there was some speculation that the Chinese had a special motivation in choosing Paris as the site for Sino-American contacts. They wanted to show the cantankerous North Vietnamese that Hanoi's displeasure will not deter Peking from following its new line in foreign policy.

Huang, 64, is a close associate of Chou En-lai and the only Chinese ambassador who is a member of the party's Central Committee. Huang participated in the Long March and rose to major general during the war against the Nationalists. Arthur Watson, 52, has little diplomatic experience. Until his appointment to the Paris embassy in 1970, Watson, a son of the builder of International Business Machines, was chairman of the company's overseas operations. That background should come in handy on trade problems. To help resolve other matters, the State Department plans either to station one or two of its China experts in Paris or to fly them over before each ambassadorial session.

Members of Nixon's China team privately concede that the results of the contact "so far have been a one-way street"--Peking's. U.S. diplomats hope that Watson can press for several still unfulfilled U.S. goals, including freer access to China for U.S. journalists, businessmen and cultural groups. Peking, however, has insisted that it is interested only in "people-to-people" contacts, which means that the Chinese hope to bypass the U.S. Government altogether and deal directly with private U.S. citizens and companies.

Straight Arrow. Watson's position in the capital may be seriously weakened before substantive negotiations in Paris begin. According to Columnist Jack Anderson, who says he interviewed several fellow passengers, the ambassador got "gloriously drunk" on a Pan American flight to Washington, where he was going for talks with the President. As Anderson tells it, Watson began demanding drinks before the jet took off, used abusive language to the cabin personnel, and tried to tuck $40 in bills into the blouse of a stewardess.

There are no similar public indiscretions on Watson's record. In fact, he is so unbending and formal in his role as ambassador that his aides refer to him as "the Straight Arrow." Yet it is known that when he does unwind with a drink, he tends to be giddy in true college-boy fashion. In response to the Anderson report, the State Department, acting on White House instructions, declared that Watson continued to enjoy the President's confidence. But the State Department did not make an outright denial of the incident.

In Paris, Watson refused to comment. There was speculation that Nixon might allow Watson to ride out the bad publicity and then quietly submit his resignation after the furor has died down. It may not be that simple. Senator Frank Church has demanded that the Senate Foreign Relations Committee investigate the charges at once to determine if the ambassador is the right man to represent the U.S. in the broadening contacts with China.

*In Manhattan, the Chinese last week settled for less elegant surroundings to house their United Nations delegation. They bought a ten-story motel on West 66th Street, in an unfashionable but gradually improving area near Lincoln Center.

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