Mao’s domestic career, like his political one, has been stormy. His first wife, a child, was forced upon him by his parents, at the age of fourteen. In his opinion, she does not count, and he never mentions her. His second, a school teacher’s daughter, is said to have been shot by a Nationalist General. His third was the heroine of the “Long March,” and Mao had just cause to be proud of her. Tall, frail looking, clever and high spirited, she was sometimes argumentative, behavior unheard of in a Chinese women. A female soldier, she is said to have received many wounds in battle. She also gave birth to a son by Mao during the “Long March,” but when the going became too difficult and unsafe she left the child along the way with old peasants who were unable to join the marchers. Alas for this brave wife, when Mao met the beauteous movie actress Lang Ping, on arriving in Yenan, she was completely forgotten. He was so enraptured with the newcomer that he sent his wife to Moscow, normally a reward sought after by any Communist. In this case it was only a face-saving gesture, however, and there were rumors that the rejected woman contracted tuberculosis and died. Mao’s new marriage to Lang Ping caused a flutter of excitement and alarm in Yenan, where the Communists knew and admired the courage and fortitude of his third wife and where she was held in esteem. News of this flurry of unrest reached the Comintern in Moscow, where the practice of casually exchanging wives was recognized, if not encouraged. There Mao’s conduct was dismissed lightly, and the Chinese Communists were told that the matter was to be regarded as “personal, not a Party affair.” During the war, Mao lived happily in a cave in Yenan with wife Number Four. Both dressed simply in blue uniforms padded with cotton in the winter. In spite of this simplicity they enjoyed more privileges than the average Communist. They ate special meals and had extra rations of cigarettes, which Mao liked to chain-smoke. He and his ex-movie starlet went, occasionally, to Saturday night dances given for the Party workers. Here an improvised orchestra struggled with Viennese waltzes, known to be Mao’s favorites, along with scattered bits of boogie-woogie. Mao also liked Chinese translations of Russian songs, but whatever the music, he and his wife swung into action with genuine enthusiasm. On the whole, Mao’s simple life adds to his popularity. A Mao-myth, similar to the Stalin-myth, is being built up about him, and by similar means. His picture is everywhere. His words are repeated and his name is spoken with reverence. In 1937, Mao wrote a letter to Earl Browder, head of the Communist Party in the United States, in which he said, in part: “We feel that when we achieve victory (in China) this victory will be of considerable help to the struggle of the American people for liberation.” Mao signed his letter, “President of the Chinese Soviet Republic.”