We walked past the headquarters of Gosplan, the Soviet State Planning Agency, on the way to the auditorium in downtown Moscow. (1980s) My college group consisted of about 25 individuals. Already seated were another 50-60 students and faculty from Penn State. We were there to have a frank and friendly exchange of views with Soviet officials from an unnamed agency. Three men were seated on the stage ready to receive questions. The first came from Penn State students. "How many people did Stalin murder?" No response from the stage. "Will the Soviet Union ever have free elections?" The panelists neither responded or even moved. With the third question "How many people are in the slave labor camps?" I concluded that this session would be a tedious waste of time. The next question came from a Hartwick student. To reconstruct from a flagging memory, Wayne, a first year student asked; "Considering the incredible number of things a highly developed nation produces, is it realistic to have a state agency (i.e. Gosplan) trying to determine quantities to be produced and how much goods will cost? Isn't a market economy absolutely necessary?" The Soviet officials smiled and became animated - each wanted to respond. Perhaps I am overstating but my heart leap with joy. A provocative and intelligent question - those that wished to learn via a dialogue with the Soviets were now engaged. The questions that followed were all designed to challenge, elicit information and demonstrate a knowledge of the USSR - equal to Wayne's.
Volgograd had a reputation in the 1980s as home to a "conservative" KGB establishment. So I was surprised when my Hartwick group was invited by a local university literary group to meet one evening at the local Palace of Culture. (Once in Tbilisi, Georgia my group was invited to a similar gathering one morning and dis invited that same afternoon.) The meeting was pleasant - I wandered around watching young men and women mixing. The Russians all spoke some English and could practice it and also learn American. In one brief discussion with three Russian young women I responded to a question by precisely quoting Lenin. One responded with "Mein Gott !" which I believe is German. It was also a conversation stopper that I regretted.
The following day I was again surprised to be informed by Jennifer (not my daughter) and two other students that they had invited the Russian students to our Hotel for a return party the following evening. I knew Jennifer was intelligent and now added "organizer" to her characteristics. We were housed in the old Hotel Intourist. (It was just around the corner from the department store that was the Stalingrad HGQ for the doomed German 6th Army.) On the fifth floor of the Hotel was a buffet with a short steam line, a few tables and when serving, staffed by three older women. The party at the buffet went off as scheduled without incident or interference - my impression was that the authorities had cut my group and their young people some slack. At 10:00 PM the buffet area was also a mess - snack wrappers, mineral water and vodka bottles, cigarette butts overwhelming ashtrays. I thought of the servers arriving to see this chaos and felt sorry for them. I also anticipated catching some hell from the Hotel administration. Then Jennifer reappeared. "Professor - I know what you are thinking - we'll take care of it." She smiled and left. So I added "clairvoyant" and "takes charge" to her personal characteristics. Happily I returned to my room. At about 7:30 AM I visited the buffet - the servers were fulfilling their duties - one guest was having tea - and the area was immaculately clean.
Czechoslovakian Soviet Socialist Republic (1977). Customs Control had finished inspecting our train and we were now rolling through morning darkness in Austria. I lay on a lower "couchette" - in the couchette above was an alpha student with a tremendous sense of humor - Michael. My first experience taking a group of college students to the USSR was over and I was near giddy with relief. Yes, there had been problems and stress. Three days ago as our train departed Leningrad, Michael casually put his passport down in another cabin and it disappeared. We reported the theft, he was questioned, searched and of course had to surrender various parts of Soviet military uniforms he had illegally secured on the black market. No passport, no souvenirs and now the prospect of an enforced stay at the Czech border awaiting a new passport. His mood was a mix of high anxiety and profound loss. Today at the border security personnel in jumpsuits holding screwdrivers had literally disassembled the cabin where his document vanished. They found the passport stuffed up behind a petition and held two passengers for questioning. But that was then - now we were out from behind the Iron Curtain and moving rapidly towards Vienna.
The train began to slow and then lurched to a hard stop. I heard running through the carriage aisle. The cabin door flew open and the light snapped on. Close to my nose the barrel of an assault rifle held by a soldier topped with a scarlet beret. Aroused irritable from what must have been refreshing sleep, Michael yelled "Turn off that light !" I responded "Mike shut up!"
Michael then noted the presence of the armed intruder. "Ohhh. OK!" The light went out and door closed. But no sleep for me - time instead to watch a dawn brighten and illuminate the Austrian countryside.
Captain "This is my ball. I don't trust you. But if you have some chew toys perhaps we can play!"
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