Kremlin or they wouldn't let you in. They must have bought you."
We said, "No, not as far as we know, they haven't bought us. We just would like to do a job of reporting."
He raised his eyes and squinted at us. And he believes what he believes, and the man who knew Eisenhower's mind two years ago knows Stalin's mind now.
An elderly gentleman nodded his head at us and said, "They'll torture you, that's what they'll do; they'll just take you into a black prison and they'll torture you. They'll twist your arms and they'll starve you until you're ready to say anything they want you to say."
We asked, "Why? What for? What purpose could it serve?"
"They do that to everybody," he said. "Why I was reading a book the other day-"
A businessman of considerable importance said to us, "Going to Moscow, huh? Take a few bombs and drop them on the Red sons of-bitches."
We were smothered in advice. We were told the food to take, otherwise we would starve; what lines of communications to leave open; secret methods of getting our stuff out. And the hardest thing in the world to explain was that all we wanted to do was to report what Russian people were like, and what they wore, and how they acted, what the farmers talked about, and what they were doing about rebuilding the destroyed parts of their country. This was the hardest thing in the world to explain. We found that thousands of people were suffering from acute Moscowitis-a state which permits the belief of any absurdity and the shoving away of any facts. Eventually, of course, we found that the Russians are suffering from Washingtonitis, the same disease. We discovered that just as we are growing horns and tails on the Russians, so the Russians are growing horns and tails on us.
A cab driver said, "Them Russians, they bathe together, men and women, without no clothes on."
"Do they?"
"Sure they do," he said. "That ain't moral."
It developed on questioning that he had read an account of a Finnish steam bath. But he was pretty upset at the Russians about it.
After listening to all this information we came to the conclusion that the world of Sir John Mandeville has by no means disappeared, that the world of two-headed men and flying serpents has not disappeared. And, indeed, while we were away the flying saucers appeared, which do nothing to overturn our thesis. And it seems to us now the most dangerous tendency in the world is the desire to believe a rumor rather than to pin down a fact.
We went to the Soviet Union with the finest equipment of rumors that has ever been assembled in one place. And in this piece we insist on one thing: if we set down a rumor, it will be called a rumor.
We had a final Suissesse with Willy at the Bedford bar. Willy had become a full-time partner in our project, and meanwhile his Suissesses got better and better. He gave us advice, some of the best advice we had from anyone. Willy would have liked to come with us. And it might have been a good thing if he had. He made us a super Suissesse, had one himself, and we were finally ready to go.
Willy said, "Behind the bar you learn to listen a lot and not talk very much."
We thought about Willy and his Suissesses a lot during the next few months.
That was the way it started. Capa came back with about four thousand negatives, and I with several hundred pages of notes. We have wondered how to set this trip down and, after much discussion, have decided to write it as it happened, day by day, experience by experience, and sight by sight, without departmentalizing. We shall write what we saw and heard. I know that this is contrary to a large part of modern journalism, but for that very reason it might be a relief.
This is just what happened to us. It is not the Russian story, but simply
a
Russian story.
CHAPTER 2
FROM STOCKHOLM WE CABLED Joseph Newman, head of the
Herald Tribune
bureau in Moscow, our estimated time of arrival and settled back content that he would have a car to meet us and a hotel
We said, "No, not as far as we know, they haven't bought us. We just would like to do a job of reporting."
He raised his eyes and squinted at us. And he believes what he believes, and the man who knew Eisenhower's mind two years ago knows Stalin's mind now.
An elderly gentleman nodded his head at us and said, "They'll torture you, that's what they'll do; they'll just take you into a black prison and they'll torture you. They'll twist your arms and they'll starve you until you're ready to say anything they want you to say."
We asked, "Why? What for? What purpose could it serve?"
"They do that to everybody," he said. "Why I was reading a book the other day-"
A businessman of considerable importance said to us, "Going to Moscow, huh? Take a few bombs and drop them on the Red sons of-bitches."
We were smothered in advice. We were told the food to take, otherwise we would starve; what lines of communications to leave open; secret methods of getting our stuff out. And the hardest thing in the world to explain was that all we wanted to do was to report what Russian people were like, and what they wore, and how they acted, what the farmers talked about, and what they were doing about rebuilding the destroyed parts of their country. This was the hardest thing in the world to explain. We found that thousands of people were suffering from acute Moscowitis-a state which permits the belief of any absurdity and the shoving away of any facts. Eventually, of course, we found that the Russians are suffering from Washingtonitis, the same disease. We discovered that just as we are growing horns and tails on the Russians, so the Russians are growing horns and tails on us.
A cab driver said, "Them Russians, they bathe together, men and women, without no clothes on."
"Do they?"
"Sure they do," he said. "That ain't moral."
It developed on questioning that he had read an account of a Finnish steam bath. But he was pretty upset at the Russians about it.
After listening to all this information we came to the conclusion that the world of Sir John Mandeville has by no means disappeared, that the world of two-headed men and flying serpents has not disappeared. And, indeed, while we were away the flying saucers appeared, which do nothing to overturn our thesis. And it seems to us now the most dangerous tendency in the world is the desire to believe a rumor rather than to pin down a fact.
We went to the Soviet Union with the finest equipment of rumors that has ever been assembled in one place. And in this piece we insist on one thing: if we set down a rumor, it will be called a rumor.
We had a final Suissesse with Willy at the Bedford bar. Willy had become a full-time partner in our project, and meanwhile his Suissesses got better and better. He gave us advice, some of the best advice we had from anyone. Willy would have liked to come with us. And it might have been a good thing if he had. He made us a super Suissesse, had one himself, and we were finally ready to go.
Willy said, "Behind the bar you learn to listen a lot and not talk very much."
We thought about Willy and his Suissesses a lot during the next few months.
That was the way it started. Capa came back with about four thousand negatives, and I with several hundred pages of notes. We have wondered how to set this trip down and, after much discussion, have decided to write it as it happened, day by day, experience by experience, and sight by sight, without departmentalizing. We shall write what we saw and heard. I know that this is contrary to a large part of modern journalism, but for that very reason it might be a relief.
This is just what happened to us. It is not the Russian story, but simply
a
Russian story.
CHAPTER 2
FROM STOCKHOLM WE CABLED Joseph Newman, head of the
Herald Tribune
bureau in Moscow, our estimated time of arrival and settled back content that he would have a car to meet us and a hotel
Similar Books
St Kilda Blues
Geoffrey McGeachin
The Lesson of Her Death
Jeffery Deaver
Everbound
Brodi Ashton
Advent (Advent Mage Cycle)
Honor Raconteur
The Krone Experiment
J. Craig Wheeler
The Gazebo: A Novel
Emily Grayson
Dearest Clementine
Lex Martin
Long Story Short
Siobhan Parkinson
In Service to the Senses
Demelza Hart
A Student's Dream (Twisted Cogs Book 1)
Malcolm Hemmings