The Foreign Service Officer said "Good morning" and motioned for me to sit down. He also waved his arms around to remind me that the room was bugged. "What can I do for you?" This was a spacious office in the US Embassy in Leningrad (St Petersburg) and the year was 1977. I told him that I had just arrived in the USSR accompanied by 25 students from Hartwick College. The problem was that my students had become involved in the flourishing Soviet counter economy, aka the "black market". For the listening walls I emphatically noted that there was no dealing in drugs or gold, no way, not my students - and they all still had their passports. "So in what are they involved?" the FSO asked. "Consumer goods - military belts, hats and some minor currency trading" and left it at that. In fact I had students that had acquired army, navy and KGB uniforms, gray, brown and black great coats, hats, belts and boots - they loved the boots. I was afraid to know how many had traded dollars for rubles but had noticed a couple of my charges sporting rolls of rubles. The FSO was very responsive and offered advice. "Take them into a park and explain how dangerous this can be - tell them not to trade currency. Remember the Soviet authorities do not want trouble. Remind them they will only be in the USSR a month unless . . . " That night at dinner I watched two students arrive proudly wearing Army boots mostly covered by their jeans. In the morning I noticed other students ordering bottles of champagne with which to wash down breakfast and paying with rubles. So far my students loved traveling in the USSR.
By the time the Red Arrow Express rolled into Moscow 24 hours later I had decided that metaphorically, I had to get inside the tent. I informed a few of my students, Karl, John, Charlie and a couple of others that at the next opportunity I wanted to do some "bizness". Three hours later several of my students and I walked into a "hard" currency store. These shops were restricted to foreigners with western currencies (including the yen of course) and Soviet elites with access to special ruble certificates. Here one could purchase goods generally not available in Soviet stores - Johnny Walker Scotch, Marlboro cigarettes, sable, artic fox, mink hats and coats, Japanese pearls, French perfume, western televisions and refrigerators. I witnessed one young Russian roughly arrested for simply entering one of these shops. My bizness deal was to buy $15.00 worth of American bubblegum and with considerable guilt I piled it on the checkout counter in front of a surly clerk. I then presented the bag of gum to my student's contact - a middle aged man. As I requested he rewarded me with 13 Soviet military patches (I only asked for 10) and one Red Army belt with its shiny brass buckle. I was extremely pleased with my deal and my students were proud of me. Shortly there after I promulgated the Lindell Rule for this and all future groups I would accompany to the USSR. When traveling in the Soviet Union always obey Soviet law. But if you should succumb to seduction by the black market keep your deals at $20.00 or less. All my groups were repeatedly informed that if they followed this rule and got in trouble "I shall if necessary go to the wall with you." But if they did not - and if they traded in drugs or large amounts of currency then I wished them luck. They were told to send me a postcard, or more likely a scrawled note from wherever they were in Siberia at the first allowed opportunity. (A few years later the rule would appear in an international guide for those traveling in the USSR.)
The rule had minimal impact but it did provide a guideline. In a later tour another student named Carl came to me and said he and a couple of Russians had been picked up by Militia and questioned. "What did you do Carl?" He had traded $15.00 for a rabbit fur hat and was even allowed to keep it. "Forget it" I said. Carl was reassured but not much. For the next five hours wherever I went, whatever I did, I had only to look near my right elbow and there was Carl, smiling - "Here I am Professor."
The train left Tbilisi, Georgia early in the morning bound for Baku, Azerbaijan. It was 1983. Word spread rapidly throughout the train that a group of American college students were on board. A few people began to come into our carriage seeking to trade. My group of about 25 had been in the USSR for three weeks - they had bonded, traded and felt like Soviet experts. Quickly noting the visitors they organized - stationing two or three of their number at each end of the carriage. Students in the cabins piled up what they had left to trade. Now when someone entered the carriage a student would ask what goods they sought; jeans, sweatshirts, sneaks, books, magazines, currency, electronics (calculators, Walkman). They would then be directed to a cabin offering the desired goods or simply was less busy. Soviet shoppers were allowed to try on some apparel for size. I was about midway down the carriage causally looking out the window watching the hills and valleys of the Caucasus' slide by. Amid the now raucous din of a bazaar I was experiencing high anxiety but also intense pride. Then a deep voice speaking English rose clearly above the babel. "Mike, sweeten up that deal - throw in a couple of pens and a book!"
A "Michael Phelps" world class, water loving dog
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