Real USSR » famous people

The Wall: the Unaccounted Tragedies.

Eva Muryzhnikova — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 22:08:09 +0000

As previously stated by George Orwell, war is peace. So when Walter Ulbricht, the Leader of the German Socialist Unity Party, on June 15, 1961 said: “No one has the intention of building the wall!”, it took only about two months for the construction to begin. The rundown state of the Eastern part was forcing people to flee in the search of better lives in the West of Germany: in the first six months of the year 1961, about 150 000 people left their houses. However, more stayed — and so the Wall did not only separate the city — it cut families in halves.

On the morning of August 13, 1961 the Berlinians woke up to the first layer of bricks being erected.

Prior to the construction of the Wall, posters fake promises were all over the city

During the first months, this way grandparents got to see their grandkids.

One had to use props to wave to friends on the other side.

The first anniversary of the Wall, 1962: the woman on the roof waving to her mother.

The use of binoculars was helpful during the first few months after the erection.

The other side was watching, as well.

As the time went, the barb wire and bricks were introduced to keep people away. The bride under the windows of her grandparents. The bouquet was lowered on a string.

This bride only got to see her relatives via binoculars.

Many were prepared to leave their lives behind and just flee for the better.

The Eastern authorities trying to stop the Western photographers by sending light into the cameras by mirrors.

Those who got caught fleeing were shot on the spot.

Gunter Liftin was shot on August 24, 1961 — before the construction was even complete.

In February 1975 this brave fellow was caught by the patrol guards, trying to cross the mined field.

Another unsuccessful attempt: wounded in the field.

In 1975 John Runnings from Canada tried to destroy the Wall with a hammer but was severely wounded by the machine-gunned guards.

Within hours after the fall. The happiest of faces.

Images are courtesy livejournal user drugoi.

Oleg Popov, The Sad Clown

Eva Muryzhnikova — Tue, 15 Jun 2010 10:16:03 +0000

In about six weeks this remarkable man will celebrate his 80th Birthday. Who is he? The most popular clown of the Soviet Union, also known as the Sunshine Clown, Oleg Popov is true icon of its own. Born in 1930, he had on of the toughest upbringings ever — yet he managed to become one of most recognisable people of the 20th century: he also was in Guinness Records Book for “being popular in the West and in the East”.

On top of his game. Oleg Popov in 1976.

He was training to be a plumber when, at the age of 17, his friends took him along to the local circus — overwhelmed, he later said there was no way back. He started learning acrobatics, gymnastics, tricks; he spent all of his time and money on learning about the famous clowns and their techniques. It did not take him long to become famous: his natural talent and an open smile made wonders.

In his interview for the Russian newspaper Arguments and Facts, Oleg Popov is reminiscing about the happiest day of his life:after Stalin’s death in 1953, all entertainment was banned as a deep mourning was announced. So the circus he was working at was shut, and those weeks of not doing what he loved was torturous. It took over two months for the ban to be lifted, and even then he was briefed not to joke “too much”. So coming out on stage and receiving a huge round of applaud made Oleg realised that it wasn’t only him who missed performing — it was also the spectators who needed laughter.

Poetic Tuesday: Boris Pasternak, Winter Night

Eva Muryzhnikova — Tue, 18 May 2010 12:07:34 +0000

It has been a good while since we decided to broaden our format a little and introduce some new exciting series for our blog. So today we are introducing our Poetic Tuesday: every Tuesday we will (try to) post a remarkable Soviet poem, most probably on a fortnightly basis. This particular poem, Winter Night by Nobel Prize for Literature of 1958, the author of Doctor Zhivago, Boris Pasternak has been hand picked to open this collection. We thank Andrey Kneller for the translation. The best way to enjoy it, we suggest, is by clicking Read More.., then play the youtube video and when the words begin, read the poem. The video features Winter Night read in Russian by Boris Vetrov, violin by Secret Garden. It is truly moving — we hope you enjoy it as much as we do. Thanks for being such a wonderful audience — you are a pleasure to write for.

The blizzards all across the earth
Have swept uncurbed
The candle burned upon the desk
The candle burned

As in the summer, moths are drawn
Towards the flame
The pale snowflakes soared
Towards the pane

Upon the glass, bright snowy rings
And streaks were churned
The candle burned upon the desk
The candle burned

On the illumined ceiling
Shadows swayed
A cross of arms, a cross of legs
A cross of fate

Two boots fell down on the floor
With crashing sound
And from the crown tears of wax
Dripped on the gown

And nothing in the snowy haze
Could be discerned
The candle burned upon the desk
The candle burned

A gentle draft blew on the flame,
And in temptation,
It raised two wings into a cross
As if an angel

It swept and swept all through the month
This frequently occurred
The candle burned upon the desk
The candle burned

Boris Pasternak

Best of Winter 2009–2010

The Victory Aftermath. Russia in Second World War.

Eva Muryzhnikova — Sun, 16 May 2010 09:12:35 +0000

The V-Day. Copyright unknown

On May, 25th 1945 Joseph Stalin made a celebratory speech devoted to the end of the Russian Great Patriotic War. The Second World War was coming to an end, but the Soviet Union was done fighting. The Russian troops had exited Germany and ahead lied a long road of rebuilding and rehabilitation. So in Kremlin, at the V-day Meeting, Stalin had said the following:

Do not expect me to say anything extraordinary today. I have a very simple, very ordinary toast to make. I would like to raise a glass to health of those people who are low in rank and invisible in the hierarchy. Of those who we consider to be the “small screws” of our huge state mechanism — they might be small but without them us generals, marshals and other top army leaders wouldn’t have made it. They are plentiful, they are a legion, it is tens of millions of people who have not been heard of — yet they hold us together, as the base holds the top. To their health!

Today we have brought to your attention a fragment of the interview with Yelena Bonner, a human rights activist, a dissident, a writer, and a widow of the late Andrei Sakharov — during the war she was a teen and now, courtesy to the Internet-magazine Snob.ru, she tells us about her experience during the war.

So — We did not fight for Stalin or the Soviet Union. We fought because we had no other choice.

Elena Bonner, b.1923. Image couretsy of snob.ru

Do you remember the war motto: “To Stalin! To Soviet Union!”

I was 18 when I was summoned — at the beginning of war, and till very late 1945 I spent with the troops — yet I never heard that motto. Every time there was a fire on the frontline we never shouted “To Stalin””, it was more like “You sons of fucking bitches!”.

So at the beginning of the war we have been told that many — lots! — of young people volunteered to be sent to the front line..

That was another huge lie about that war. Only a tiny percent of people who ended up in the front line volunteered to be there. The rest were mobilised, hands down. Every single man of the appropriate age, be him a farmer or a factory worker — all of them were summoned and sent to the war.

I was also mobilised, as thousands of other girls. I was a student at Hertsen Institute, and they had a huge banner on the wall: “Girls of our country, get your second, military profession now”. So we had to take a compulsory course in military education. The choices we had were about becoming a nurse, a communications technician or a sniper. I chose to be a nurse, and by the end of it I was listed as “suitable for summon”.

So on June 22nd, 1941 you heard about the German invasion –you know you are listed as “suitable”, so did you know you’d be part of the war very shortly? Did you have a feeling of upcoming radical change?

You know, it was a very odd feeling. I am eighty seven years old now, and now I am trying to comprehend what was happening and I am failing at it, how my generation lived anticipating the war. Not just the people of Leningrad — at least we experienced the war with Finland of 1939 — 1940 (the so-called Winter War), and it was a real war, with food shortages and no heating. So starting from 1937 I just couldn’t help but anticipate a war coming — and it was a solid, gut feeling. My Moscow friends felt the same.

So in 1942 you were summoned as a nurse — what did it feel like?

I was a nurse on the train, which was travelling in the Leningrad district, picking up the wounded and delivering them to Vologda or other safe destinations. There they were dropped off, cared for, nurtured a bit and then either returned back to the front line, or sent somewhere else, I am unsure… The train was constantly bombed, or derailed, or lost in the snow. And then I was wounded myself — I had a broken clavicle, a damaged left shoulder, injured nerve and a blood eye — I was bad and I was sent by the same train to Vologda and later to the Urals.

I guess I was very lucky throughout the war. There was no reason for me to be on the train — I could have been right on the front line. It was 1942, the toughest year by some account — nobody summoned during that year came back.

Yelena Bonner in her Moscow apartment. Image courtesy of Snob magazine.

How long did you spend on that train?

Till 1945 — till the very end. We were sent to Germany to evacuate the wounded from their territories in 1945. So on May 8, the VE Day, we were somewhere around Innsbruck, Austria, and this was our last journey bound for Leningrad. We arrived home, the train crew was restructured, I was made the Head of some medical department to care for the wounded bomb disposal soldiers. The war was technically over, yet these guys — working with the explosives — kept coming our way.I was one of the last ones to be demobilised, too — in August 1945.

Can you tell us some more myths about the war?

As I have said, nobody volunteered. Another one was that the Jewish did not fight — it is not true, they did. And probably the biggest one is post war — the exploitation of that war. And all these military parades show offs — they are no longer carried out to remember those who did not come back — now they have a mission of public relations, and TV ratings, and flexing the military muscle — both on the domestic and international levels.

Did you feel that right after the war things would change to the better?

We did — we felt that our country had just survived the incredible! We felt powerful, we felt like we were able to change things around, we hoped for the better.

So why do these war veterans who came back from the war never argue these myths about the war?

Why do you think when we came back and thought ah, we are so powerful — why do you think we all shut up?

Celebrities of the 1960s: Queen of Belgium et al

Stas Kulesh — Thu, 06 May 2010 21:06:25 +0000

I find great pleasure in looking at the faces of people from the days long gone. Reading the fine lines is like trying to map out the events that took place before we were even born — or were too far away from where it happened. Please enjoy a fine collection of the images below — some are just regular faces in the crowd, some were the mighty lot. Click on the pictures to see the larger images and as always — spread the word!

Queen of Belgium, Moscow 1962

Ho Chi Min, 1959, Moscow

Korean delegates, c 1960

Indian Delegates, c 1960

One of the oldest persons — Mahmud Eivasov from Azerbaijan, claiming to be 150 years old.

Semen Budenny, a prominent military commander, late 1960s

Poland Military band, 1954

A tour to the corn fields.

A Swissman in Moscow: Leonard Gianadda, 1957.

Eva Muryzhnikova — Tue, 23 Mar 2010 22:05:55 +0000

It is always interesting to see how foreigners perceive Russia. This time there’s no exception — in 1957, during the 6th Worldwide Festival of Youth And Students, a Swiss reporter Léonard Gianadda spent a few hot summer days in Moscow, capturing not only the Festival programme, but random faces of Moscovites in the streets. 50 something years later, when we look at these shots, we forget for a moment about the politics, and repressions, and all the misfortunes the country has been through — we can only enjoy the life captured in these split seconds.

The summer of 1957

My personal favourite shot, we used it for our Why Did The USSR Collapse? article heading.

British Fashion in Moscow, June 1956.

Eva Muryzhnikova — Wed, 17 Mar 2010 23:17:07 +0000

All images are by Lisa Larsen, for LIFE magazine.

In 1956 an array of British designers were trying to expand their market share into the Soviet Union. So a fashion week of some sort took place — in Moscow, Gorky Park, twice daily the shows took place. What a huge success it was! Every day it was a full house, and the public were in love with the British models and the fashion. Jeans, for instance, were very trendy and could cost as much as a month’s salary — yet one still had to queue up to get a pair.

However, after so much ado, not a single British clothing company ever received any Soviet offers of cooperation. Sad, really — just like Christian Dior in Moscow, it could have been a beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Catwalk

Jeans made a sensation. Nothing was more wanted — and unavailable.

A model Joy Slape, in Gorky Park

Do want! A girl eyeing up a bracelet in a shop

Model Ann Smith talking to a soldier

Best of Winter 2009–2010

Stas Kulesh — Wed, 03 Mar 2010 22:40:13 +0000

Military Discharge Handmade Scrap Book and Comics Album

You’re in the army now

The compulsory two years of military service was a rite of passage for every Soviet guy. When one turned eighteen — unless for sickness or injury — it was time to be called in for the military life — two years in the barracks. The guys usually bonded well and during their spare time created so called “Discharge Albums” — like scrapbooks, they were full of photos, songs lyrics, quick notes from the buddies etc.

Slava Kurilov: Alone at Sea. An Unbelievable Way to Escape the Iron Curtain

The only person to escape the Iron Curtain by swimming.

By job he was an oceanographer, by heart he was a dreamer, by nationality he was a citizen of the planet Earth — in short, he was an extraordinary guy. Yet his personal file in the USSR was stamped as “not worthy of an exit visa” so he was not allowed to leave the country, even if it was for a holiday. So in December, 1974 he jumped a cruise boat “The Soviet Union” off the coast of the Philippines islands — and he swam to freedom.With no food or drink, no swimming equipment apart from flips and goggles, he swam to the shores about a hundred kilometers for three days — completely alone at sea.

A Rough Guide to Moscow from the Daughter of the American Embassador

Emlen Knight Davies, at the age of 20 (ish)

Joseph E. Davies was the second Ambassador to represent the United States in the Soviet Union in 1937–1938. His daughter, the twenty years old Emlen Knight Davies, took some pictures of the surroundings. These images, courtesy of her private collection, were on display in Moscow for the anniversary of the Spaso House — the official diplomatic residence.

So! What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up?

You will be quite a craftsman!

The Professional Orientation in the USSR meant, first and foremost, a process of advising the youth on the future career choices. A group of teachers and fresh graduates of a college would go to high schools to give talks to school kids in order to deliver the first hand information on vocational choices. Every occupation is regarded highly in the Soviet Union — well, this slogan turned out to be quite untruthful.

Moscow Winters, Fragments of the 20th Century.

1925. A private house on the bank of the Tarakanovka river

Here is a fine collection of images of Moscow winters, dating from 1920s till 1991. Sadly many places portrayed on these photographs are gone now, just like the Soviet Union itself, yet lest we forget. Please read on to see the image of the first set of traffic lights in Moscow CBD in late 1930s, which was operated by a specially trained person; or the largest freshwater outdoor swimming pool in the world - as well as people, wooden houses, old boulevards covered with the virgin snow.

Labour Riots in Novocherkassk: Soviet ‘Tiananmen’

Meat, butter, pay rise!

Novocherkassk is a small town in the South of Russia, also known as the unofficial capital of the Cossacks, the Slavic military community. Unfortunately this town was the place of a huge tragedy, when in 1962 the civilian demonstration was opened fire on.

Russian Ice Cream In Winter — Bring It On!

The city of Khabarovsk, 1970.

In the USSR, the very first ice cream factory was opened in 1932 — when the Minister of Food Supply (if translated not too liberally) Anastas Mikoyan visited the United States of America and was so impressed with their ice cream, he decided that Russia needed something of the kind. So the ice cream making technology and equipment were imported and the ice cream supply to all and everybody began.

Novosibirsk: Then and Now.

The Communal Bridge, nowadays.

The unofficial capital of Siberia, the city of Novosibirsk was founded in 1893 with the initial population of only 8,000 people. By the time of the Great October Socialist Revolution of 1917, it grew to the population size of 80,000. The name, literally meaning New Siberian City, was adopted in 1926 — and since then, the town had become to grow and prosper.

The Fearsome Threesome – Lenin and His Lovebirds

Paris, city of love, brought them all together. A Russian movie of 1981.

The official history often misses a very important and interesting point in the course of the Russian Revolution – not everybody knows that Vladimir Lenin, a formidable mind behind the Great October Patriotic Revolution and the leader of all communists, had less than straightforward love life – apart from a wife, he had a mistress – and not only that, these two women knew each other and got on very well!

21+ Depressing Photos of Post-Revolutionary Russia by Arkady Shaikhet

Gymnasts. Red Square. 1924

When the new Soviet country was born, the people were promised a wonderful future under the socialism — just a few more years, the billboards boasted — and we’ll live in a glorious state. However the early days were more than gloomy: the rundown economy, disoriented society, the reek of fear and uncertainty — and that clearly can be seen through the photos of a prominent Soviet photographer Arkady Shaikhet.

Slava Kurilov: Alone at Sea. An Unbelievable Way to Escape the Iron Curtain

Eva Muryzhnikova — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 12:40:40 +0000

The only person to escape the Iron Curtain by swimming.

Since his childhood, Slava Kurilov had been very keen on swimming and he loved the sea so deeply, he made it his career — he was an oceanographer, a deep sea diver. He knew the sky — all the major constellations, he knew meteorology, he had a vivid inquisitive mind — he also spoke good English, had a sister living in Canada and his father was in a German prison camp during the WWII, which also considered somewhat of a treachery. A few times Slava applied for a permit for research trips outside the country, but to no avail — the reason being “endangering the security of the USSR”.

Slava at a typical day at work

In his diaries he wrote that ““my homeland had sentenced me to life imprisonment through no fault of my own. Until my death I will never see the free world.”

Apart from that, Slava had an interesting outlook on life: he practiced yoga and meditation, he trained himself to abstemious, ascetic regime, and often he went without food — or water! — for five days at a time.

THE CRUISE “FROM WINTER INTO SUMMER”

One day — it was November 1974 — Slava came across a travel ad in a paper: a large cruise line was to go on a voyage towards the equator, departing Vladivostok. The cruise was an unusual one: the ship did not intend to enter any foreign ports so no visas were required — the route was just to travel the outer waters for 20 days without approaching the coastal lines.

When Slava read that, he felt a pang of hope — in his memoirs, he later wrote that he felt like a wild animal which was about to be taken out for a walk before chaining him down forever. So the decision to go on a cruise was made, and it was an easy, confident one.

Interestingly, the cruise ship was built in 1930s in Germany and initially was called “Adolf Hitler” — the rumour had it that it was the Fuhrer’s private yacht. It sank during the war, but was recovered by the Soviet engineers. After that, it became the largest cruise ship of the Soviet Union and was used on the Far East routes, as far as possible from the civilised world — so it couldn’t be vetoed.

The route for this particular cruise was kept in strict secret. What was announced, however, that the passengers could sunbathe under the tropical sun, swim in the onboard pools and enjoy the stunning vistas. The guest lecturers would talk about the geography of the Pacific Ocean as well as the countries in the proximity. A cruise with no stops but with lectures about the South East Asia — well, in those days it did not sound unreasonable.

The main challenge was to figure out when — and where to jump. Slava’s goal was the Philippine island of Siargao, near the southern part of Mindanao.

Passengers were never shown any maps or other navigational tools — yet Slava managed to steal a glance at a captain’s dashboard.

THE JUMP

On December 13, at about 8pm, dressed in tight thick shorts and a few pairs of socks, equipped with a snorkel, flips and an amulet he had deep faith in, Slava walked to the upper deck — and took a leap into the darkness.

The deck was no longer under my feet. For several moments I flew through the air, until I felt the waves parting, gently welcoming me into their embrace. Coming up to the surface I looked around–and froze in terror. Beside me, an arm’s length away, was the huge hull of the liner and its gigantic turning propeller. I desperately summoned up my strength to swim out of reach, but I was held in the dense mass of stationary water that was coupled to the screw in a mortal grip. It felt as if the liner had suddenly stopped, yet only a few seconds ago it had been doing eighteen knots. The terrifying vibrations of the hellish noise went through my body; the screw seemed to be alive: it had a maliciously smiling face and held me tight with invisible arms.

And so he began to swim, trying to keep the liner behind his back, swimming away from it. After the initial shock, Slava was consumed by utter silence — just the mild murmurs of the ocean accompanied his thoughts. He realised that he really needed a compass — yet taking one on board would have seemed suspicious. Now all he had to do was to continue swimming — but he found it comforting, as the water was warm and the ocean seemed friendly. Had he known what was ahead of him, he later wrote — he would have jumped anyway. Anything lying ahead — losing the direction, thirst, hunger, uncertainty, jelly fish or shark — was a better option than returning to the ship, to the Soviet Union.

Kurilov in his latter days.

A day later he did not feel sore or tired — only the breathing of the ocean, which by now seemed like a living creature with heavy breath. Slava miscalculated the route, and his initial estimates — to swim for about 24 hours — had grown to three full nights alone in the ocean.

THE REST

There was a lot between the jump and the land. He was all sore and swallen from the salt water. He scratched his knees on the coral reefs and was bleeding, thinking of the sharks. He almost made it to a quiet bay — until he was picked up by a strong torrent and taken back into the open ocean. A boat passed right by him without noticing. The Soviet cruise liner seemed centuries away now to him.

At last he felt the land under his feet. The first thought at that moment, funnily, was “If I get attacked by a shark now, it would have been the biggest fail ever”. The second thought — even a feeling — was a wave — pun intended — of huge love towards the element of the water, towards the Pacific Ocean, the feeling of a beautiful force that had looked after him so very well. And after that he immediately fell asleep on the sand under a palm tree.

Waking up a few hours earlier, Slava took stock of himself. he was not hungry — his mouth was still swallen. He was vey thirsty, but far from the state of dying of thirst. When planning the great escape, what never crossed his mind was the thought of actually reaching the foreign land — and so he did not foresee a need for matches, a knife, an ID. But nothing mattered — Slava felt like the first person on Earth, like Adam, like Tarzan from the Jungles, and it felt great!

The locals, who found him on the beach, could not believe his charade swimming motions — after the initial contact was established, they kept asking him about “the rest of the bunch”. It was incomprehensible for them, in a way, to believe that there was no shipwreck — just an escape.

Till his death, every year he celebrated the days of 12, 13 and 14 of December as his second — spiritual — birthday.

Slava spent six months in the Philippines, while the authorities figured what to do with him. He was imprisoned for a few weeks, but then released as of “good character”. After the contacts were made with his sister, he was sent to live to Canada. His very first job was at a pizza joint, but after he perfected his English and got himself oriented, he continued doing what he loved most — working with the oceans. Once he travelled to Israel, which he instantly fell in love with — and so in 1986 he immigrated to Haifa. He continued doing oceanography-related research until 1998, when a diving accident went wrong — he was 62 years old.

A Rough Guide to Moscow from the Daughter of the American Embassador

Eva Muryzhnikova — Wed, 13 Jan 2010 22:29:43 +0000

Joseph E. Davies was the second Ambassador to represent the United States in the Soviet Union in 1937–1938.

His daughter, the twenty years old Emlen Knight Davies, took some pictures of the surroundings. These images, courtesy of her private collection, were on display in Moscow for the anniversary of the Spaso House — the official diplomatic residence.

These 19 images portray Moscow in a slightly different view — the entire pre-war epoch ended was just about to end, and those times, still full of life and character, still look very charming.

Emlen Knight Davies, at the age of 20 (ish)

From left: Joseph Davies, Joseph Stalin, Vyacheslav Molotov.

Diplomatic Pass, Emlen Knight Davies, who is granted all diplomatic rights and privileges as the holder of such a document.

Spaso House, the official diplomatic residency of the American Embassador

The celebratory march of November 7th 1937

TSUM shop, just before opening

“Communism holds no serious threat to the United States. Friendly relations in the future may be of great general value”, Joseph E. Davies assessed.

The parents (Embassador and his wife) are going to a dinner party to M. Litvinov, the Minister of Foreign Affairs.

The Embassy’s staff team, in front of the Spaso House

The view from the second floor of the Spaso House

The park in front of the residence

The doorman nicknamed Two-Bearded and the Embassador’s Packard

Two Bearded, closer up

The Embassador with the wife, out on Leninskie Gory

The Independence Day Ball

The Masquerade Ball at the Spaso House

Emlen is learning to ice skate

Emlen with father, 1937

Emlen Knight Davies, at the age of 92, 2008