The Griboedov Channel. The bridges St Petersburg is so famous for.

By many, St Petersburg (Leningrad  in 1924–1991) is often considered to be so beautiful due to its architecture of Italian origin. Quite strange to see these fine buildings embellished by the symbols of the Soviet Era. Let’s take a walk around this fine city in the summer almost 30 years ago.

When I was 7 years old, there was a flower market just like that next to our house. By Erhard K.

Image by Erhard K.

Peterhof, the Russian Versailles, by Erhard K.

Peterhof by Erhard K.

Peterhof by Erhard K.

The Smolny Cathedral, by Erhard K.

The Neva River embankment, Rostral Pillars. Image by Erhard K.

The Dvortsovaya Embankment. Image by Erhard K.

Summer river cruises. By Erhard K.

St Isaac’s Cathedral, the monument of Peter the Great. By Erhard K.

The Winter Palace close up, Dvortsovaya Embankment. By Erhard K.

The Winter Palace, from the Palace Bridge, by Erhard K.

Peter the Great was the one to build this city on the swamps. During the Khruschev Era, the city was further decorated.

Nevsky Avenue, by Erhard K.

The Neva embankment, the Aurora cruiser, by Erhard K.

In 1925, the Aurora cruise ship played a major part in the October Revolution: the city was flaming with revolutionary spirit and so the Revolutionary Committee was created. On 25 October 1917, Aurora refused to carry an order to take off to sea, which sparked the Revolution. At 9.45 p.m. on that date, a blank shot from her forecastle gun signalled the start of the assault on the Winter Palace.

The Church of the Saviour on Blood (Spas na Krovi), by Erhard K.

The main street: Nevsky Prospect (Avenue). By Erhard K.

The Dvortsovaya Square, Aleksandriysky Stolp, by Erhard K.

Related posts:

1. Best of Winter 2009–2010
2. Fashion in the USSR. DIY.
3. 21+ Depressing Photos of Post-Revolutionary Russia by Arkady Shaikhet

Remember our post about  Slava Kurilov, the guy who jumped off the cruise ship near the Philip­pines islands — and swam to freedom for three consecutive days, completely alone at sea? Our today’s post tells a story just as remarkable — a young Russian surgeon Leonid Rogozov, stranded in  Antarctica with the Sixth Soviet Antarctic Expedition, in 1961 performs a self-operation: under local anesthesia, surrounded by a bunch of guys whose only experience with medicine was sitting in a dentist’s chair, the 27th years old doctor removes his own appendix.

rogozovappendectomy2

Dr Rogozov had a very promising start, but had left for the expedition shortly before having to present his thesis on new methods of operating cancer. He was the only medical person in the expedition, and in the downtime he also performed driver’s and meteorologist’s duties. Six weeks after the arrival to the base, he started feeling ill: weakness came, then nausea, then abdominal pain along with body  temperature rising. The diagnosis was easy: it was clearly a case of acute appendicitis — but the closest medical help was about 800 km away. Dr Rogozov wrote in his diary:

I did not sleep at all last night.  It hurts like the devil!  A snowstorm whipping through my soul, wailing like a hundred jackals.  Still no obvious symptoms that perforation is imminent, but an oppressive feeling of foreboding hangs over me… This is it… I have to think through the only possible way out:  to operate on myself… It’s almost impossible… but I can’t just fold my arms and give up.

Soviet Antarctic Expedition site four years prior to Dr Rogozov’s events

All the available conservative treatment was applied (antibiotics, local cooling), but the general condition was getting worse.And so the preparations for the surgery began. In his diary  he describes these events in  plain, almost emotionless language: how the guys found out, how he told them what was about to happen, what they were to do. Following Dr Rogozov’z instructions, the team members assembled an improvised operating theatre. They moved everything out of the room, leaving only the bed, two tables, and a table lamp. The aerologists Fedor Kabot and Robert Pyzhov flooded the room thoroughly with ultraviolet lighting and sterilised the bed linen and instruments.

In the event that Rogozov lost consciousness, he instructed his team how to inject him with drugs using the syringes he had prepared. Then he gave the main helpers a surgical wash himself, disinfected their hands, and put on their rubber gloves for them. And so it began: with the team’s meteorologist holding the retractors, a driver to hold the mirror and other scientists passing surgical implements, he sat in a reclined position and cut out his own appendix under local anesthetic.

The operation went on for two hours.

One of his assistants, the station director Vladislav Gerbovich, later recalled in his diary:

When Leonid had made the incision and was manipulating his own innards as he removed the appendix, his intestine gurgled, which was highly unpleasant for us; it made one want to turn away, flee, not look—but I kept my head and stayed. He himself was calm and focused on his work, but sweat was running down his face and he frequently asked us to wipe his forehead … By the end of the surgery he was very pale and obviously tired, but he finished everything off.

Half way through the operation Dr Rogozov passed out, but was able to continue.

halfway through the surgery the assistants asked for a photo camera to be brought in

Once  operation was complete, he took sleeping tablets and lay down for a rest. The next day his temperature was 38.1°C; he described his condition as “moderately poor” but overall he felt better.  He continued taking antibiotics. After five days his temperature was normal; after a week he removed the stitches. Within two weeks he was able to return to his normal duties and to his diary.

Those very instruments — on a museum display nowadays

A remarkable extract from Doctor’s diary:

I worked without gloves. It was hard to see. The mirror helps, but it also hinders—after all, it’s showing things backwards. I work mainly by touch. The bleeding is quite heavy, but I take my time—I try to work surely. Opening the peritoneum, I injured the blind gut and had to sew it up. Suddenly it flashed through my mind: there are more injuries here and I didn’t notice them … I grow weaker and weaker, my head starts to spin. Every 4–5 minutes I rest for 20–25 seconds. Finally, here it is, the cursed appendage! With horror I notice the dark stain at its base. That means just a day longer and it would have burst and …

At the worst moment of removing the appendix I flagged: my heart seized up and noticeably slowed; my hands felt like rubber. Well, I thought, it’s going to end badly. And all that was left was removing the appendix …

And then I realised that, basically, I was already saved.

Dr Leonid Rogozov

About a year later he left Antarctica for home: 29 May 1962 the ship docked at Leningrad harbour. The next day Dr Rogozov returned to his work at the clinic — and shortly after he successfully defended his dissertation. He worked and taught in the Department of General Surgery of the First Leningrad Medical Institute. He never returned to the Antarctic and died in St Petersburg, as Leningrad had by then become, on 21 September 2000.

“A job like any other, a life like any other”

This self operation was probably the first such successful act undertaken out of hospital settings, with no possibility of outside help, and without any other medical professional around. It remains an example of determination and the human will for life. In later years Rogozov himself rejected glorification of his deed. When thoughts like these were put to him, he usually answered with a smile and the words: “A job like any other, a life like any other”.

Related posts:

1. The case of The Kremlin Doctors and its Consequences: the State of Anti-Semitism

Please welcome our new author Vadim Costyrin with his first but serious post on the present days of those born in the USSR, brought up by the Yeltsin’s coup and now left to seek their national and cultural identity all by themselves.

A performance at a kindergarten.

Once the USSR inspired us with fear, now this country does not exist. We have the big Russia and a lot of small and not so small, whimsical republics, for the right to include which in the sphere of their influence there fight politicians of the superpowers. Together with the Soviet Union we have lost Russians — our antipodes — against whom we willy-nilly matched. It may seem that it is a victory — but Russians want the USSR back, and after only two decades there are much more fears and threats.

We have been fearing the Soviets sincerely and for a long time. But they have split.

We have lost our enemy — communists with their “Satan” and “Kuzkina mat”, and at once have found a new enemy that is even more global — terrorists. As a first approximation a terrorist is the same as a communist — since in our world view all Russians were communists and professed a wrong ideology. And now all Muslims are certainly terrorists, and we must struggle with their ideas. I only have a natural question: “Who are these “we”? It seems to me there are simply no “us”, and in order to unite me and you in something which would look like “us”, it is necessary to frighten “us” properly. Russians have a saying: “Devil is not so black as he is painted” — and indeed, inside the country looks differently, and its dwellers, too, are not absolutely similar to the comical images imposed on us by our “independent” press.

So why invent external enemies for us? The answer seems to be on the surface — I experienced it myself: when you have a headache and put a lemon peel on your temple the pain recedes — balsamic oils irritate the skin, and it switches your nervous system over to other irritant. Sometimes it seems to me that we are distracted by chattering about international problems from the problems which are inside our head.

Why don’t we want to notice behind the first persons of the states, their inhabitants? Did it ever occur to you that everything is not so simple with Russia? The USSR, for example, is considered by its inhabitants to be a huge strong country which they really love.

And if we dare look more attentively at this strange phenomenon of a mysterious — “Russian soul” we might see in a different light not only Russians, but our own selves as well.

On the go

Talking figures

Running the risk of seeming boring, I will nevertheless begin with the statistics — it is one of those cases when figures are more eloquent than words. According to the poll published by the All-Russian Center for Public Opinion Studying in the authoritative Russian newspaper “Kommersant”, in the rating of the most outstanding events of the XX century after the Great Patriotic War (16 %) there is Yuri Gagarin’s space flight (13 %). During ten years the share of those who considers this event to be especially significant, has reduced almost twofold. It is followed by the Moon landing (5 %). 4 % believe that the most outstanding event of the twentieth century is the Great October Revolution. Putin’s coming into power and computer invention got 2 % of votes each. The invention of a nuclear bomb, cellular connection, TV, as well as sport achievements of our country and the Moscow Olympic Games of 1980 received 1 % of Russians’ votes each.

Ten years ago in the rating of the most tragic events of the last century the First and Second world wars (43 %) were in the lead. Today on the first place there is the Great Patriotic War (36 %). The second place is occupied by the Chernobyl disaster (9 %). The wars in the Chechen Republic and Afghanistan are considered the most tragic events by 8 % of respondents. The October Revolution of 1917 and natural cataclysms received 4 % each. Then there is the tragedy in Beslan and capture of the Nord Ost musical (3 % each), putsch of 1991 and explosion of the twin towers on September 11 (2 % each), destruction of Kursk submarine, Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Yeltsin’s rule, Stalin’s rule, execution of the imperial family and invention of nuclear weapon (1 % each). The least tragic event in this rating is the story of Titanic. However, both ten years ago and now the greatest disappointment of the last century, according to Russians, is disintegration of the USSR (17 %).

Our compatriots put this event on the fourth place in the rating of the most tragic events. Perestroika, poverty and illnesses disappointed Russians less than disintegration of the USSR. It is followed by the crash of the communism ideas. “In the list of the greatest disappointments of the last century this time Russians did not name unemployment and social and economic reforms, spirituality decline, problems with drug addicts and ecology” — “Kommersant” writes.

It seems that the Soviet Union which was called “The Empire of Evil”, can be missed only by the older generation, however from the moment of the USSR disintegration there has been formed a new generation who never lived in the USSR. So why the statistics keeps saying what the inhabitants of the former USSR still feel nostalgic about the former times? The phrase “What a country is destroyed!” was heard by me repeatedly, even from people who simply can not remember the USSR. Why even among youth that can hardly be accused of feeling liking towards totalitarianism, “the Soviet childhood” is now fashionable? “I want back to the USSR. Ah, those good old times — probably, it was the best time in my life”— this phrase can be heard more and more often, and not only from veterans who lived in the Soviet times, but also from those who are in their early thirties. These are people who in 1991 were in high school, and even in kindergarten, who lovingly collect and quote the Soviet films and proudly show old radio-gramophones and vinyl records.

In the Russian-speaking Internet the USSR topic is one of the most popular, and it is popular among its most active users — young people. You don’t need to be a sociologist or “an expert on Russia” to see that the attitude to life in the USSR even among youth changed from very negative to very positive. For the last couple of years in the Internet there have appeared a lot of resources devoted to everyday life in the Soviet Union. “76 — 82. The Encyclopedia of our childhood“ is one of the most popular ones. Its name tells about its audience — it consists of those who was born in 76 — 82.

The community with the same name in LiveJournal belongs to the thirty of the most popular ones. “We are lucky that our childhood and youth ended before the government had bought freedom from young people in exchange for rollerblades, mobile phones, “star factories” and rusks (by the way, soft for some reason) … With their own consent … For their own (seemingly) good …” — it is a fragment from the text with the name “Generation 76 — 82”. Many Russians and the inhabitants of the former USSR republics eagerly place it in their blogs. It has become a kind of the generation’s manifesto.

However, only two decades ago the same people who now with tenderness recollect the symbols of that epoch, rejected all connected with the Soviets and tried hard not to resemble their “ancestors”. ”The local amnesia“ extends to the recent past. During the perestroika times — at the turn of the 90ies — a considerable part of young men dreamt to leave — somewhere where there was an elementary stability and the absence of financial shocks.

Economic instability has turned the generation of the end of the 70ies into the people not needed by the state. And those who were brought up on socialist ideals (which, by the way, if cleared of the ideological tinsel, are not that bad), have appeared in the position of fishes thrown out to shoal. Commercial relations were hard for them and were — and often still are — disgusting for many. Here under no circumstances it is a habit to accept money even from acquaintances. Instead they use specific small gifts as payment for service, for example, sweets or alcohol. Probably, a wide “Slavic soul “does not accept meanness peculiar to many aspects of business relations. It does not mean that Slavs do not have commercial abilities, they just have an essentially different system of values, but it is a topic for a separate article.

Out and about

A new cult of the old

Today the Soviet past in many countries of the former USSR has become a myth. It has acquired touching legends and has turned into a fine fairy tale about the Golden Age of the mankind. The generation of the end of the 70ies wants to believe in it so much that it is ready to amputate its own memory and to ignore the history. I will try to explain why — we often condemn Russia, forgetting to put ourselves on the place of Russians. Personally I would not like to live in a country captured by chaos, to be deprived of a possibility under any circumstances to take credit, to receive qualified medical aid (because expensive medications are necessary, and medical insurance simply does not exist), to live “from the salary to the salary” the largest part of which is eaten up by inflation. These are only some delights of life in the new countries which have arisen on the immense open space of the former Soviet Union; only during the last years the situation has begun to stabilize. It is possible to say that Russians have already endured several economic crises, and now they are fully armed — because they have developed certain schemes of behaviour in such situations and have simply got used to living under the conditions of instability.

If we think of instability we will understand, why so many people warmly recollect the USSR. In this country people lived not just behind the Iron Curtain but behind the stone wall — they knew precisely how much everything cost: prices did not change for years; everyone was confident that they would receive their wages or salary in time, and so on. Now inhabitants of the former USSR countries try to find out beforehand if the firm for which they intend to work will pay the salary — because, as they say, they may be done out of their money — that is not receive the pay for their work. It is a widespread practice — since contracts are not habitual there, and the employer can simply forge your signature on documents, and it will be hard for you to prove anything in court. Although in Moscow this practice is not so popular, in the suburbs there is a huge corruption of the authorities and impunity of businessmen who bribe the officials. Explaining this phenomenon, one my colleagues from Ukraine said: “You have a lawyer, and here everyone has a public prosecutor or a judge”.

However, it is impossible to explain by instability so many warm memoirs of so many young men of the country which they have hardly seen. Sociologists assert that one of the reasons is banal: nostalgia about the Soviet Union is in many respects explained by nostalgia about childhood. Idealizing of the childhood years is peculiar to all. Bad things are forgotten, good things remain. However the reasons for such a “not childish” nostalgia are deeper than just melancholy for the lost youth. By idealizing the Soviet past, the thirty-somethings unwittingly show what they dislike about the present.

The thirty something ones

What “freedom” is

I will probably disappoint you but there is no univocal understanding of the word “freedom”. We think that we live in the free country, but we are not free inside: we just do not know that it can be different. One needs to be an odd fellow, like Jeremy Oliver, crazy about what he does, to make us, die-hard conservatives, notice that, for example, we eat unhealthy food. But if we look at the countries of the former USSR, we will see the generation of people who can compare, who have no “consumer blinds”. We got used to pounds, while they during two decades had the names, the design and the purchasing capacity of money changed several times. “In the childhood we drove cars without belts and safety pillows.… Our beds were painted with bright paints with high content of lead. There were no secret covers on bottles with medicine, doors and wardrobes often remained unlocked. We drank water from the column located around the corner, not from plastic bottles. And nobody could think of driving bike in a helmet!” — this is an excerpt from the same “manifesto”. “We became less free!” — this shout of despair can be heard from many blogs. Here is one more citation: ”I recall that time, and the main sensation is the feeling of uttermost freedom. Life was not subordinated to such tight schedule as it is now, and there was plenty of free time.

Our parents’ vacations lasted for month and if someone was ill he could easily be on a sick leave, instead of continuing working being half-alive. You could go anywhere you wanted, and nobody would ever stop you. There were no coded locks and on-door speakerphones, there were no security guards at each entrance, in each shop. The airport was an extremely interesting place from where travel began, instead of being a part of the high security zone. In general, there were very few tablets with inscriptions like “No trespassing!”, “For personnel only”, “Stay away” etc.

There is a strange metamorphosis of memoirs. In the Soviet Union there were much more frightening inscriptions like “No trespassing!” — but childhood memories erase them, and memory about what was seen a couple of days ago completes these notorious tablets.

Objectively the Soviet society was less free than the present one or than our, Western, society, and not only in terms of politics. Human life moved along the strictly planned route: local kindergarten — high school — institute/army — prescribed work, with minimal variations. The same thing was in everyday life. Everybody ate identical dishes, rode identical bicycles and spent holidays in the same pioneer camps. Young man’s long hair a couple hugging in the street could draw attention of militia or people’s guards. Now Russians live in one of the freest societies in all the history of mankind.

And it is not about politics but rather about culture and the way of life. The state minimally interferes with these people’s private lives. Notorious “power vertical”, which in Russia penetrates the political process, never crosses a house threshold. And the society has not yet developed strict norms and cannot tell the citizens what to do and what not to do.

So where does this sensation of non-freedom come from? Most likely, it starts from within. Russian thirty-somethings put their own selves in very tight frameworks. They are obliged to work and earn, to look decently, to behave seriously, to have the most expensive mobile, to eat only healthy food, to drive a German car and to read books by Paolo Coelho. Obliged, obliged, obliged! Only to whom? Everybody damned the Soviet Union all which tried to equal people in their rights and duties — while we, as well as Post-Soviet Russians, equalize ourselves even in our interests.

A real freedom for Russians is not a freedom of speech or meetings — first of all it is a possibility to live securely and stably, having a lot of free time. And it was expected from them that they would become the first generation, free from “Sovok”, a generation of vigorous capitalism builders. In the beginning of the 90ies it looked like this indeed. Young men were enthusiastic about doing business, career, they ecstatically plunged into the world of consumer pleasures. But gradually the enthusiasm started to decline, and finally they just “burnt out”.

Fine relations in the past

Today for the majority of them work and career remain the main reference points in life. However there is already no eagerness which used to be an integral part of their life in the 90ies. The majority still estimates success in life as a possibility to consume as much as possible: “The better “apartment, car, clothes” are — the more successful the person is”. But many things are already bought, impressions are received, ambitions are satisfied. As to relations, to build them, according to many inhabitants of the Post-Soviet countries, is much more difficult. In the Soviet period nobody could even think of “marrying” a capital or real estate. True, some people lived a bit better, others — a bit worse, but overall there was an analogue of our middle class. Communicating with modern young men and women from the already independent states which used to be the USSR parts, you get a sensation that they are going to sell themselves for a good price, initially not believing that there can be “some love”. Everything is about money and sex with which by mass-media are filled. In the Soviet Union, nevertheless, they managed to shoot films about fine relations which played heartstrings and caused emotions, instead of giving life to animal instincts. You don’t need to be a film critic to understand, after watching a couple of Soviet films, what kind of relations were considered real by Russians. Maybe that is why “in the USSR there was no sex” — because everyone made love?

Probably it is for this reason that Russian young people so willingly watch old Soviet films, just rather as a fantasy — because they will seemingly soon forget what is to trust and feel. The majority of young people are dissatisfied with their private life, often substitute it for work, but do not see any real possibilities to change anything. To change something time is necessary, and there is an eternal lack of it. If your fast running stops you will be thrown to the roadside in a minute — and nobody can afford it. Aren’t these all sufficient reasons for nostalgia?

Nostalgia about own childhood at times smoothly turns into nostalgia about political system. The Soviet Union began to be associated with the state development, scope, imperial power, as well as with a quiet, stable and happy life: it was the time when there was no unemployment, terrorism or national conflicts, when human relations were simple and clear, feelings were sincere, and desires were simple.

On the bus

Back to the past?

History knows a lot of examples when nostalgia about the past was quite a powerful motive power of political development. For example, returning of socialist parties into power in some East European states during the Post-Soviet period also was in many respects caused by nostalgia about the Soviet period. It seems that in modern Russia nothing like this can happen. “The generation 76 — 82” is too apolitical, too immersed in their non-existing private life to provide serious support to any political force. That is why strong power is OK for them. It is really their choice. They want order which we ourselves create but which in Russia so far needs to be created declaratively — probably because, having lose the support of the USSR, people also lost their reference points, including the moral ones.

Instead of active actions the generation of the 70ies chooses gentle melancholy about the time of their childhood — a wish to connect the irrevocably perished past with the ruthless present not always can be interpreted in the tideway of political actions. After all in the childhood we do not know what kind of political system we have and how many parties there are, nostalgia about childhood is not interested in politics —teddy bears and first kisses seem much more exciting. It is difficult to imagine a revolution under the slogan “Return to me the right to drive a bicycle and be happy!” (Although in 1968 the French students built barricades under the slogans like “Under the roadway — a beach!” And “It is forbidden to forbid!”)

The matter is that the Soviet world allowed people to be human, unlike the present times. After all social disasters of the XX century for the first time it becomes clear that in any political system the main and the only important figure is a human. And violence of consumer instincts is a fake, just like communism promised by the year 1980. Russians do not have any illusions that the state will help in a difficult moment — it is really ridiculous and naive.

It seems to be the first generation of Russians who remained face to face with their own selves. Without ideology crutches, without a magic lifesaver — the West. And that is when memoirs of the Soviet past really start to burn souls down with ruthless fire of envy.

Possibilities to feel personal value of a person in those days were scarce, but they all were perfectly known to everyone. Everyone knew, what books should be read, what films should be watched and what should be discussed in the evening in kitchen. It also was a personal gesture giving satisfaction and installing pride. Today’s times with their infinity of possibilities make such a gesture almost impossible or marginal by definition.

The generation of thirty-somethings in the former Soviet Union, as well as our society, has now lost the right to the habitual pronoun “we”. This confusion is dictated not by time with its economic strictness, but rather by the look at the reflection in mirror. Who am I? What do I want? It is the start of prostration and “eternal memory” of yesterday, the search for answers to painful questions where the person began as a personality. But it is not a travel to the Soviet past. It is a travel to depth of one’s own soul and consciousness.

Do you still remember the beginning of the article and the sociological poll? What do you think, will anybody in our country name among the most important problems spirituality decline, like Russians did? Do we have a right to impose on them our way, and does it exist at all, the only true way for each of those “us” who do not exist?

Related posts:

1. Soviet Union Administrative Division
2. The 50th Anniversary of the Soviet Union in Old American Mags
3. Why Did the Soviet Union Collapse?

In early 1930s without any licensing arrangements the Soviet engineers copied the first limousine car  for the Communist party executives. In 1932 six limousines were copied off the American Buick 90L. However,  later the factory production line was switched to producing caterpillar tractors,so the limousine business was shifted to Moscow Stalin Factory.

ZIS-101

The car, based on the engine of the Buick and the body copied off the Cadillac, was given another non-poetic name, ZIS — 101.  It also had Buick radiator bars.

By the beginning of the Second World War there were three huge car factories in the USSR.  Despite the fact that the USSR already had its own highly educated and talented engineers,  the very first post-war limousine ZIS-110 was also a copy of an obsolete American car.   When making a decision about the launch of a new car, the engineers selected four models – Packard 180, Packard Clipper, Cadillac 75 and Cadillac 63.   Stalin himself was to make the decision, and he picked the Packard 180.

Chaika

In August 1945 the Soviet government issued a decree on the opening the Moscow Factory of Small Capacity Cars.   The same decree established the technical features of the new car as well as the commencement dates for the production lines.   The patterns for the new car were also selected by Stalin.  The Soviet leader liked the pre-war German Opel Cadette.  In order to please Stalin, the Soviet engineers urgently found several trophy C-38.   The cars were dismantled and the designs of the parts were sketched.  The first five engines were made by November 1946 and the cars were on the road by the end of the same year.  Interestingly enough, thenext generation of cars under the brand “Moskvich” was made on the basis of American Ford Prefect and Ford Taurus rather than the German range.   The samples of those cars were purchased abroad.

The denouncement of the Stalin cult and a new seven-years plan to develop the Soviet economy for the period of 1959–1965 had  inspired the Soviet engineers to create more cars.  The flagman cars of that time were the ZIL-111 and GAZ-13 “Chaika” developed after the trial runs of best American executives cars.  The ambitions towads the rapidly changing American fashion had made the ZIL-111 obsolete by the beginning of 1960s.   That is why this car was later redesigned in the Cadillac style of 1960–1961.  Nevertheless, the production of GAZ-13 “Chaika” was continued without any changes in its design till the 1979.

Related posts:

1. Soviet Cars: History of the Copy-and-Paste Industry — Part 3 of 3
2. Soviet Cars: History of the Copy-and-Paste Industry — Part 1 of 3
3. Soviet Automobile Industry — Part 1 of 2

Once some music composer said  that “There are only seven notes which compose all the music in the world.  No wodner some songs sound alike”.  Undoubtedly,  all cars  have got four wheels, so plagiarism in the automobile industry is hard to pinch.  In this article we deliberately ignore a popular Soviet point of view that a steam locomotive, an airplane and the radio were not invented in Russia.  All we attempt here is to make a small digression into the history of Soviet automobile industry in order to identify its origins and its development.

ZIS-110

A Russian  philosopher Vasiliy Rosanov once noted that in Russia every single case of wealth originates from theft or extortion.  Historically, the economy of the Russian Empire before the 1917 was so deeply integrated into the European economy that the exchange of ideas, something, which now would have been hugely copyrighted, was very common.  Like, in 1901 in St Petersburg the carriage factory Freze and the Riga bicycle factory Leitner successfully assembled the French oil engines De Dion Buton as part of Russian carriages. Another factory Aksai in Rostov-on-Don purchased the license for the production of the American Oldsmobile Carved Dash.  In 1906 a Russian engineer Boris Lutskoy organised the assembling of  Mercedes cars for the Russian market. At last, the main pride of Russia – the automobile Russo-Balt — was made from foreign parts – the chassis with four-cylinder engine was adopted from a Belgian company with a Swiss name Fondu.

The October revolution of 1917 created  a popular in  Russia myth that all things have been invented in, well, Russia.  The reasons for that would be merely ideological: the new born country needed new morale.  According to an old Soviet joke, even “elephants come from Russia”.  The most progressive country in the World, as coined by the revolutionary communists, should strike the rest of the world with advanced technologies, the propaganda advised.  In order to create the real Soviet cars,  the communists established the Research Automobile Laboratory (later known as NAMI). The very first Soviet motor car NAMI-1 was actually a graduation project by a young engineer Konstantin Sharapov.   The car turned out to be so successful that it was put into production right away. Later,  in 1979, Konstantin confessed to copying  the charts for NAMI-1 off the Czech Tatra-11.

The notorious NAMI-1

During the period from 1927 to 1930,  the factory assembled 403 NAMI-1 models.  Despite all its advantages, this car was not planned for the mass production.  At the same time,  any manager of the robust mind realised that the Soviet Industrialisation needed mass production.   The Soviet Russia wanted giant factories, but what would be the product?

In 1929 the USA was stricken by a severe economic crisis.   As the result of this crisis, the production of Chevrolet halved, the production of Ford dropped three times!   Despite the absence of diplomatic relations between the USSR and the USA, both Chevrolet and Ford offered their production to the Soviet government.  No need to guess,  shortly afterward the awfully cracked Russian roads were voyaged by the dazzling American beauties of all kinds.   The long rally was won by Ford A and, consequently, this car was put into production in the USSR.

The Soviet Ford

The first automobiles under the brand GAZ left the factory in December, 1932.  Quite rapidly these cars got nicknamed as “Soviet Fords”.   Even the logo was very similar – blue oval with the brand GAZ instead of Ford. The car was not a success, however,  as the open body and the lack of boot turned to be its main downsides. Within 5 years the new car GAZ M1 replaced the old model.   Now the body was copied from 1934 model of Ford, although the model was adapted to suit the severe Russian conditions. The front suspension was based on two springs rather than on one, unlike  in the American version, and the wheels were of a different shape.   Later on, the design charts for  GAZ M1 were utilised  for almost all Soviet-made cars.

To be contunied.

Related posts:

1. Soviet Cars: History of the Copy-and-Paste Industry — Part 2 of 3
2. Soviet Cars: History of the Copy-and-Paste Industry — Part 3 of 3
3. Soviet Automobile Industry — Part 1 of 2

1981. “Milk” (rus. Moloko). In the front a woman pushes the blue pram with a ‘window’. It was incredibly difficult to buy this sort of prams in those times.

Milk

1965. In Soviet Russia people do not think too much about inventing names for the outlets owned by the state. All the stores were simply named: “Bread”, “Milk”, “Meat” or “Fish”. On the picture — “Grocery Store”.

Grocery

1987. Home appliances (rus: “Electrotovary”).

Source: germanych.livejournal.com (In Russian)

Related posts:

1. In The Grocery
2. The Book on Tasty and Healthy Foods: Una Dolce Vita, Soviet Style
3. Queues