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A college education can seem like a long shot to many, but nowhere near the long shot it was to Lili (pronounced “LeeLee”) Evans ‘89, who came of age in China at the height of Mao Zedong’s Cultural Revolution. Rather than entering universities and being encouraged to engage their minds, post-adolescents at that time were joining the Red Guards—armed revolutionary youth groups tasked with persuading citizens (by various means) to adopt Mao’s Communist orthodoxy. “School just STOPPED,” says Evans, the daughter of a prominent (think Broadway) director and actress at the Beijing People’s Art Theatre. They had sent their daughter to a boarding school that, after it stopped offering lessons, became a haven for students to ride out the worst of what was happening in Beijing: government criticism, public humiliation, job loss, property seizure, and executions.

But the upheaval didn’t end. Mao soon decided that everyone who had been educated needed to be “re-educated,” by those who had never gone to school: peasants, factory workers, and soldiers. As part of Mao’s Down to the Countryside Movement, the government sent young Evans to Inner Mongolia to herd sheep. “It was a pre-history setting,” she says. “For 4 and 1/2 years, I was a shepherdess among the Mongolian people—riding horses, following herds, living in yurts. A group of about 10 of us from the city became part of their brigades.” Evans’s aptitude earned her a position as the community’s veterinarian and, later on, as its accountant.

Her big break came in 1980 after she had returned to Beijing at age 33. 

The Cultural Revolution had ended a few years earlier with Mao’s death, and the English-speaking newspaper China Daily was advertising for a proofreader. Evans, who had studied English in boarding school, got the job. From proofreader, she became assistant editor and then took over the “What’s On” section, interviewing performers and artists and reporting on theater, movies, and exhibitions. Wanting to improve her English and become a more successful journalist, she looked to America for a higher education.

She had heard that nontraditional students found a place at �����Ź���. She applied, was accepted, and was offered a $9,000 scholarship, leaving a $6,000 balance. But on her salary of $25 per month, she just couldn’t swing it. In a rare and generous move, �����Ź��� held her scholarship support indefinitely.

As part of Mao’s Down to the Countryside Movement, the government sent young Evans to Inner Mongolia to herd sheep. “It was a pre- history setting. For 41/2 years, I was a shepherdess among the Mongolian people—riding horses, following herds, living in yurts. 

“I was asking everybody,” she says. “I was trying to figure out how to get to �����Ź���. I wasn’t asking them for money; I was asking them for advice. Then one night I was interviewing an American director-in-residence from the Eugene O’Neill Theater Center. I told him my story and he said, ‘I know who can help you!’”

The director took Evans to the then-brand-new Great Wall Hotel, where he introduced her to a Mr. and Mrs. Hambleton. It was the introduction that would change her life. Evans could not have met a better person. Merrell Hambleton ’43 was an active member of the �����Ź��� community, serving the Board of Trustees from 1956 until 1984. She was involved in volunteer programs and was a member of several Board committees; as a trustee chief among her fundraising passions was securing support for scholarships.

Evans’s voice warms as she recalls. “I told Merrell my story. And she said, ‘Let me see what I can do.’ After a few months, she wrote me a letter saying she’d found two years of scholarship support. So I made all the arrangements and came to �����Ź��� in 1985.” The story could have ended there, but it didn’t. Hambleton shared Evans’s story with friends and colleagues from inside and outside of her �����Ź��� network, a pursuit that helped her secure funding for the second half of Evans’s education.

I told Merrell my story. And she said, ‘Let me see what I can do.’ After a few months, she wrote me a letter saying she’d found two years of scholarship support.

Garnering funding was only the beginning of Hambleton’s affectionate influence on Evans’s new life. “That first winter,” Evans recounts, “when I would have stayed on campus, Merrell said, ‘Why don’t you come to our house for Christmas?’” That boisterous holiday with the Hambleton family was Evans’s “first American Christmas.” While a �����Ź��� student, Evans ended up spending every Christmas— and a great deal more after that—at Hambleton’s house in Baltimore.

Evans now also lives in Baltimore, where she moved after graduating from �����Ź��� in 1989. She still keeps in touch with Hambleton, visiting with her twice a week. “For all these years we’ve been connected,” Evans muses. “I still ask Merrell for advice.” Hambleton recalls meeting Evans for the first time and Evans’s youthful desire to attend �����Ź���. Hambleton says with a smile, “I thought it was a wonderful idea.”