They competed to holiday with Stalin but the most popular companion was the larger-than-life Sergo. Yenukidze often invited his fellow womanizer Kuibyshev to party with him in his Georgian village. Stalin was half jealous of these men and sounded delighted when Molotov failed to rendezvous with Sergo: “Are you running away from Sergo?” he asked.6 They always asked each other who was there: “Here in Nalchik,” wrote Stalin, “there’s me, Voroshilov and Sergo.”7
“I got your note,” Stalin told Andreyev. “Devil take me! I was in Sukhumi and we didn’t meet by chance. If I’d known about your intention to visit . . . I’d never have left Sochi . . . How did you spend your holidays? Did you hunt as much as you wanted?”8 Once they had arrived at their houses, the magnates advised which place was best: “Come to the Crimea in September,” Stalin wrote to Sergo from Sochi, adding that Borzhomi in Georgia was comfortable “because there are no mosquitoes . . . In August and half of September, I’ll be in Krasnaya Polyana [Sochi]. The GPU have found a very nice dacha in the mountains but my illness prevents me going yet . . . Klim [Voroshilov] is now in Sochi and we’re quite often together...”9
“In the south,” says Artyom, “the centre of planning went with him.” Stalin worked on the veranda in a wicker chair with a wicker table on which rested a huge pile of papers. Planes flew south daily bringing his letters. Poskrebyshev (often in a neighbouring cottage) scuttled in to deliver them. Stalin constantly demanded more journals to read. He used to read out letters and then tell the boys his reply. Once he got a letter from a worker complaining that there were no showers at his mine. Stalin wrote on the letter, “If there is no resolution soon and no water, the director of the mine should be tried as an Enemy of the People.” 10
Stalin was besieged with questions from Molotov or Kaganovich, left in charge in Moscow. “Shame we don’t have a connection with Sochi by telephone,”35 wrote Voroshilov. “Telephone would help us. I’d like to visit you for 2–3 days and also have a sleep. I haven’t been able to sleep normally for a long time.” 11 But Stalin relished his dominance: “The number of Politburo inquiries doesn’t affect my health,” he told Molotov. “You can send as many inquiries as you like—I’ll be happy to answer them.” They all wrote Stalin long, handwritten letters knowing, as Bukharin put it, “Koba loves to receive letters.”12 Kaganovich, in charge in Moscow for the first time, took full advantage of this though the Politburo still took most of the decisions themselves, with Stalin intervening from afar if he disapproved.
The vain, abrasive, emotional magnates often argued viciously in Stalin’s absence: after a row with his friend Sergo, Kaganovich admitted to Stalin, “This upset me very much.” Stalin often enjoyed such conflicts: “Well, dear friends . . . more squabbling . . .” Nonetheless, sometimes even Stalin was exasperated: “I can’t and shouldn’t give decisions on every possible and imaginable question raised at Politburo. You should be able to study and produce a response . . . yourselves!” 13
There was time for fun too: Stalin took a great interest in the gardens at the house, planting lemon bowers and orange groves, proudly weeding and setting his entourage to toil in the sun. Stalin so appreciated the gardener in Sochi, one Alferov, that he wrote to Poskrebyshev: “it would be good to put [Alferov] in the Academy of Agriculture—he’s the gardener in Sochi, a very good and honest worker . . .”
His life in the south bore no resemblance to the cold solitude that one associates with Stalin. “Joseph Vissarionovich liked expeditions into nature,” wrote Voroshilova in her diary. “He drove by car and we settled near some small river, lit a fire and made a barbecue, singing songs and playing jokes.” The whole entourage went on these expeditions.
“We often all of us get together,” wrote one excited secretary to another. “We fire air rifles at targets, we often go on walks and expeditions in the cars, we climb into the forest, and have barbecues where we grill kebabs, booze away and then grub’s up!” Stalin and Yenukidze entertained the guests with stories of their adventures as pre-revolutionary conspirators while Demian Bedny told “obscene stories of which he had an inexhaustible reserve.” Stalin shot partridges and went boating.
“I remember the dacha in Sochi when Klim and I were invited over by Comrade Stalin,” wrote Voroshilova. “I watched him playing games such as skittles and Nadezhda Sergeevna was playing tennis.” Stalin and the cavalryman Budyonny played skittles with Vasily and Artyom. Budyonny was so strong that when he threw the skittle, he broke the entire set and the shield behind. Everyone laughed about his strength (and stupidity): “If you’re strong you don’t need a brain.” They teased him for hurting himself by doing a parachute jump. “He thought he was jumping off a horse!”
“Only two men were known as the first cavalrymen of the world— Napoleon’s Marshal Lannes and Semyon Budyonny,” Stalin defended him, “so we should listen to everything he says about cavalry!” Years later, Voroshilova could only write: “What a lovely time it was!” 14
That September 1931, Stalin and Nadya were visited by two Georgian potentates, one she loved, one she hated. The popular one was Nestor Lakoba, the Old Bolshevik leader of Abkhazia which he ruled like an independent fiefdom with unusual gentleness. He protected some of the local princes and resisted collectivization, claiming there were no Abkhazian kulaks. When the Georgian Party appealed to Moscow, Stalin and Sergo supported Lakoba. Slim and dapper, with twinkling eyes, black hair brushed back, and a hearing aid because he was partially deaf, this player strolled the streets and cafés of his little realm, like a troubadour. As the maitre d’ of the élite holiday resorts, he knew everyone and was always building Stalin new homes and arranging banquets for him—just as he is portrayed in Fasil Iskander’s Abkhazian novel, Sandro of Chegem. Stalin regarded him as a true ally: “Me Koba,” he joked, “you Lakoba!” Lakoba was another of the Bolshevik family, spending afternoons sitting out on the veranda with Stalin. When Lakoba visited the dacha, bringing his feasts and Abkhazian sing-songs, Stalin shouted: “Vivat Abkhazia!” Artyom says Lakoba’s arrival “was like light pouring into the house.”
Stalin allowed Lakoba to advise him on the Georgian Party, which was particularly clannish and resistant to orders from the centre. This was the reason for the other guest: Lavrenti (the Georgian version of Laurence) Pavlovich Beria, Transcaucasus GPU chief. Beria was balding, short and agile with a broad fleshy face, swollen sensual lips and flickering “snake eyes” behind a glistening pince-nez. This gifted, intelligent, ruthless and tirelessly competent adventurer, whom Stalin would one day describe as “our Himmler,” brandished the exotic flattery, sexual appetites and elaborate cruelty of a Byzantine courtier in his rise to dominate first the Caucasus, then Stalin’s circle, and finally the USSR itself.
Born near Sukhumi of Mingrelian parentage, probably the illegitimate son of an Abkhazian landowner and his pious Georgian mother, Beria had almost certainly served as a double agent for the anti-Communist Mussavist regime that ruled Baku during the Civil War. It was said that Stalin’s ally, Sergei Kirov, had saved him from the death penalty, a fate he had only escaped because there was no time to arrange the execution. Training as an architect at the Baku Polytechnic, he was attracted by the power of the Cheka, which he then joined and wherein he prospered, promoted by Sergo. Even by the standards of that ghastly organization, he stood out for his sadism. “Beria is a man for whom it costs nothing to kill his best friend if that best friend uttered something bad about Beria,” said one of his henchmen. His other career as a sexual adventurer had started, he later told his daughter-in-law, on an architectural study trip to Romania when he had been seduced by an older woman—but while in prison during the Civil War, he fell in love with his cellmate’s blonde, golden-eyed teenage niece, Nina Gegechkori, a member of a gentry family: one uncle became a minister in Georgia’s Menshevik government, another in the Bolshevik one. When he was twenty-two, already a senior Chekist, and she was seventeen, she petitioned Beria for her uncle’s release. Beria courted her and they fina
lly eloped on his official train, hence the myth that he raped her in his carriage. On the contrary, she remained in love with her “charmer” throughout her long life.
Beria was now thirty-two, the personification of the 1918 generation of leaders, much better educated than his elders in the first generation, such as Stalin and Kalinin, both over fifty, or the second, Mikoyan and Kaganovich, in their late thirties. Like the latter, Beria was competitive at everything and an avid sportsman—playing left-back for Georgia’s football team, and practising ju-jitsu. Coldly competent, fawningly sycophantic yet gleaming with mischief, he had a genius for cultivating patrons. Sergo, then Caucasus boss, eased his rise in the GPU and, in 1926, introduced him to Stalin for the first time. Beria took over his holiday security.
“Without you,” Beria wrote to Sergo, “I’d have no one. You’re more than a brother or father to me.” Sergo steered Beria through meetings that declared him innocent of working for the enemy. In 1926, when Sergo was promoted to Moscow, Beria fell out with him and began to cultivate the most influential man in the region, Lakoba, importuning him to let him see Stalin again.
Stalin had been irritated by Beria’s oleaginous blandishments on holiday. When Beria arrived at the dacha, Stalin grumbled, “What, he came again?” and sent him away, adding, “Tell him, here Lakoba’s the master!” When Beria fell out with the Georgian bosses, who regarded him as an amoral mountebank, Lakoba backed him. Yet Beria aimed higher.
“Dear Comrade Nestor,” Beria wrote to Lakoba, “I want very much to see Comrade Koba before his departure . . . if you would remind him of it.”
So now Lakoba brought Beria to the Vozhd. Stalin had become infuriated by the insubordinate clans of Georgian bosses, who promoted their old friends, gossiped with their patrons in Moscow, and knew too much about his inglorious early antics. Lakoba proposed to replace these Old Bolshevik fat cats with Beria, one of the new generation devoted to Stalin. Nadya hated Beria on sight.
“How can you have that man in the house?”
“He’s a good worker,” replied Stalin. “Give me facts.”
“What facts do you need?” Nadya shrieked back. “He’s a scoundrel. I won’t have him in the house.” Stalin later remembered that he sent her to the Devil: “He’s my friend, a good Chekist . . . I trust him . . .” Kirov and Sergo warned Stalin against Beria but he ignored their advice, something he later regretted. Now he welcomed his new protégé. Nonetheless, “when he came into the house,” recalls Artyom, “he brought darkness with him.” Stalin, according to Lakoba’s notes, agreed to promote the Chekist but asked: “Will Beria be okay?”
“Beria’ll be fine,” replied Lakoba who would soon have reason to regret his reassurance.15
After Sochi, Stalin and Nadya took the waters at Tsaltubo. Stalin wrote to Sergo from Tsaltubo to tell him about his new plan for their joint protégé. He joked that he had seen the regional bosses, calling one “a very comical figure” and another “now too fat.” He concluded, “They agreed to bring Beria into the Kraikom [regional committee] of Georgia.” Sergo and the Georgian bosses were appalled at a policeman lording it over old revolutionaries. Yet Stalin happily signed off to Sergo, “Greetings from Nadya! How’s Zina?”16
Taking the waters was an annual pilgrimage. In 1923, Mikoyan found Stalin suffering from rheumatism with his arm bandaged and suggested that he take the waters in the Matsesta Baths near Sochi. Mikoyan even chose the merchant’s house with three bedrooms and a salon in which Stalin stayed. It was a mark of the close relationship between the two men. 17 Stalin often took Artyom with him “in an old open Rolls-Royce made in 1911.” Only his personal bodyguard Vlasik accompanied them.36
Stalin seems to have been shy physically, either because of his arm or his psoriasis: among the leaders, only Kirov went to the baths with him. But he did not mind Artyom. As they soaked in the steam, Stalin told Artyom “stories about his childhood and adventures in the Caucasus, and discussed our health.”
Stalin was obsessed with his own health and that of his comrades. They were “responsible workers” for the people, so the preservation of their health was a matter of State. This was already a Soviet tradition: Lenin supervised his leaders’ health. By the early thirties, Stalin’s Politburo worked so hard and under such pressure that it was not surprising that their health, already undermined by Tsarist exile and Civil War, was seriously compromised. Their letters read like the minutes of a hypochondriacs’ convention.37
“Now I’m getting healthy,” Stalin confided in Molotov. “The waters here near Sochi are very good and work against sclerosis, neurosis, sciatica, gout and rheumatism. Shouldn’t you send your wife here?” 18 Stalin suffered the tolls of the poor diet and icy winters of his exiles: his tonsillitis flared up when he was stressed. He so liked the Matsesta specialist, Professor Valedinsky, that he often invited him to drink cognac on the veranda with his children, the novelist Maxim Gorky, and the Politburo. Later he moved Valedinsky to Moscow and the professor remained his personal physician until the war.
His dental problems might themselves have caused his aches. After his dentist Shapiro had worked heroically, at Nadya’s insistence, on eight of his rotten and yellowed teeth, Stalin was grateful: “Do you wish to ask me anything?” The dentist asked a favour. “The dentist Shapiro who works a lot on our responsible workers asks me (now he’s working on me) to place his daughter in the medical department of Moscow University,” Stalin wrote to Poskrebyshev. “I think we must render such help to this man for the service he does daily for our comrades. So could you do this and fix it . . . very quickly . . . because we risk running out of time . . . I’m awaiting your answer.” If he could not get the daughter into Moscow, then Poskrebyshev must try Leningrad.19
Stalin liked to share his health with his friends: “At Sochi, I arrived with pleurisy (dry),” he told Sergo. “Now I feel well. I have taken a course of ten therapeutic baths. I’ve had no more complications with rheumatism.”20 They told theirs too.21
“How’s your nephritic stone?” Stalin asked Sergo, who was holidaying with Kaganovich. The letters formed a hypochondriacal triangle.
“Kaganovich and I couldn’t come, we’re sitting on a big steamboat,” replied Sergo, telling “Soso,” “Kaganovich’s a bit ill. The cause isn’t clear yet. Maybe his heart is so-so . . . Doctors say the water and special baths will help him but he needs a month here . . . I feel good but not yet rested . . .”
Kaganovich sent a note too, from the Borzhomi Baths: “Dear Comrade Stalin, I send you a steamy hello . . . It’s a pity the storm means you can’t visit us.”22 Sergo also told Stalin about Kaganovich’s health: “Kaganovich has swollen legs. The cause isn’t yet established but it’s possible his heart is beating too faintly. His holiday ends on 30th August but it’ll be necessary to prolong it...”23 Even those in Moscow sent medical reports to Stalin on holiday: “Rudzutak’s ill and Sergo has microbes of TB and we’re sending him to Germany,” Molotov reported to his leader. “If we got more sleep, we’d make less mistakes.” 24
Term was starting so Nadya headed back to Moscow. Stalin returned to Sochi whence he sent her affectionate notes: “We played bowling and skittles. Molotov has already visited us twice but as for his wife, she’s gone off somewhere.” Sergo and Kalinin arrived but “there’s nothing new. Let Vasya and Svetlana write to me.”
Unlike the year before, Stalin and Nadya had got on well during the holidays, to judge by their letters. Despite Beria, her tone was confident and cheerful. Nadya wanted to report to her husband on the situation in Moscow. Far from being anti-Party, she remained as eager as ever to pass her exams and become a qualified manager: she worked hard on her textile designs with Dora Khazan.
“Moscow’s better,” she wrote, “but like a woman powdering to cover her blemishes, especially when it runs and runs in streaks.” Kaganovich’s remodelling of Moscow was already shaking the city, such was his explosive energy. The destruction of the Christ the Saviour, the ugly nineteenth-centur
y cathedral, to make way for a much more hideous Palace of the Soviets, was progressing slowly. Nadya began to report “details” that she thought Stalin needed to know but she saw them from a very feminine aesthetic: “The Kremlin’s clean but its garage-yard’s very ugly . . . Prices in the shops are very high and stocks very high. Don’t be angry that I’m so detailed but I’d like the people to be relieved of all these problems and it would be good for all workers . . .” Then she turned back to Stalin himself: “Please rest well . . .” Yet the tensions in government could not be concealed from Nadya: indeed she was living at the heart of them, in the tiny world of the Kremlin where the other leaders visited her every day: “Sergo called me—he was disappointed by your blaming letter. He looked very tired.”25
Stalin was not angry about the “details.” “It’s good. Moscow changes for the better.”26 He asked her to call Sergei Kirov, the Leningrad boss, of whom he was especially fond: “He decided to come to you on 12th September,” she told him, asking a few days later, “Did Kirov visit you?” Kirov soon arrived in Sochi where his house was one of those down in the valley beneath Stalin’s. They played the games that perhaps reflected Stalin’s spell as a weatherman: “With Kirov, we tested the temperature in the valley where he lives and up where I live—there’s a difference of two degrees.”38 Stalin was no swimmer, probably because of his bad arm though he told Artyom it was because “mountain people don’t swim.” But now he went swimming with Kirov.
Stalin: The Court of the Red Tsar Page 11
