By Ron Goldwyn,Myung Oak Kim and April Adamson

(Philadelphia) Daily News Staff Writers October 31, 1997

Chinese President Jiang Zemin stopped by for a taste of Philadelphia yesterday and left with more than he expected in the birthplace of democracy.

He got a Flyers hockey jersey with "Jiang" emblazoned over the logo.

He also got a "Shame on China" earful from human- rights and Free-Tibet demonstrators, despite efforts to shield him from any unpleasantness.

The city got a taste of the unexpected from Jiang a more Americanized, personable and English-savvy pol than many of those invited for three tightly controlled events were expecting.

When Rep. Curt Weldon, R-Delaware County, surprised Jiang with the jersey at Drexel University, Jiang grabbed a sleeve and told in English how a grandson had once lived in the Philadelphia area.

"He liked the football very much," he blurted, drawing laughter while apparently confusing his sports.

That ended a session at which he was reunited with a former professor and a college friend, both on the Drexel faculty, spoke for 10 minutes in a mix of Chinese and English, and received standing tributes from hundreds of alumni, students, regional corporate leaders and other guests.

Drexel President Constantine Papadakis, who lavished praise on Jiang, is credited by city officials as the prime mover in the Chinese leader's local call inviting the dad of a Drexel alumnus as soon as Jiang's American visit was announced.

"I have to express my heartfelt thanks to the principals of Drexel University and all the professors, especially those who educated my son," Jiang said in English. "I want to give them thanks for the technical lesson for having giving him the honor of receiving a Ph.D. degree."

Weldon, Mayor Rendell and Gov. Ridge shared Jiang's platform and exulted in the potential business and trade connections between China and the region, while slipping in how China has an opportunity for personal, as well as economic, freedom.

If Drexel was lovey-dovey, getting there wasn't half the fun.

Minutes before Jiang's motorcade zoomed down Chestnut Street to the administration building at 32nd Street, police waved three empty charter buses along a curb beside protesters and spectators. Reporters overheard city officials ordering the buses.

"Zemin's people did not want him to see any of the protesters," said one policeman standing along the barricade. "They didn't want him to see any of it."

Demonstrators managed to shuffle across the street and undermine efforts to block them.

"Why is the school coddling a despot, tyrant and someone who is killing Christians?" yelled William Devlin, director of the Philadelphia Family Policy Council. "He condones forced abortions and one-child limits on families. That is certainly not the definition of independence."

Independence was certainly on the itinerary.

As Jiang's motorcade approached Independence Hall for his final stop, several hundred demonstrators along 5th and 6th streets hollered through bullhorns, waved signs and banged drums.

Instead of depositing Jiang in front on Chestnut, his limo drove up onto darkened pedestrian pathways behind the hall. A day earlier, planners had scrapped a visit to the Liberty Bell, where he would have been more exposed to the protests.

Inside, Jiang headed for American democracy's most sacred place, the Assembly Room, where Ranger Michael Arrington explained through a translator that both the Declaration of Independence and the U.S. Constitution had been written there.

Jiang signed a VIP registry in inch-high Chinese characters and exchanged gifts with park and city officials.

Rendell, who accompanied Jiang for virtually all of the three-hour stop, gave his fellow former mayor the Philadelphia Bowl.

Outside, demonstrators left their designated area more than a block away at the Judge Lewis Quadrangle and marched to Chestnut, turning a lackluster gathering boisterous and visible.

They clogged sidewalks, waving signs and Tibetan flags, pounding on drums, and chanting "Free Tibet Now" and "Shame on China."

At the edge of the crowd, hunched over in his maroon robe, 70-year-old Geshe Kesang thrust a Tibetan flag high above his head with his right hand.

When the Chinese invaded Tibet in 1949, Geshe hid for a month. His escape to India took nearly two months of strictly night-time travel. Geshe came to Philadelphia in 1983 and lives in the Northeast.

He said he feels sad about the situation in Tibet, where many relatives still live, unable to even send letters to each other. Under Jiang's rule, human-rights abuses have escalated, he said.

"Every year, it gets worse," he said. After Drexel, Jiang headed for the University of Pennsylvania Museum, where prez Judith Rodin led him through the Chinese collection. At Independence Hall, he met with Temple University President Peter Liacouras and two Chinese professors.

The debate over the visit was encapsulated in comments by two Penn students in dueling demonstrations near the museum.

"It's one thing to have a dialogue between Zemin and our country," said senior Joshua Morris. "But it's another thing to welcome him here."

Chinese immigrant Bo Xing, of South Jersey, saw it differently.

"I appreciate their concern about China," Bo said, pointing toward the chanting students. "But I think they know very little about Chinese history. We want democracy, but China is a poor country.

"If you are struggling for everyday life, you don't have time to think about democracy."