My day off, your open thread and Moscow 1958

Copyright, Uppity Woman, 2009. All Rights Reserved. (text only)

The year is 1958.

The Soviets had launched Sputnik a few months before. The arms race between the USA and the USSR was accelerated and more feverish than ever. The Cold War was as cold as ice and the threat of a real war grew more ominous by the day.

Bomb shelters were built at the kind of pace at which we now all build a BBQ deck in the rear of our homes. Everyone who could afford one had one. People actually believed that if we ever were attacked, that days later, they would actually emerge from a concrete underground room as one of the Last Mutants On Earth amidst tumbleweeds and no food sources– just like the low-budget movies depicted. For some odd reason, this actually seemed preferable to death.

Young impressionable children like myself were learning what an air raid drill sounded and felt like.  At school we learned to scramble to hide beneath our little kindergarten desks that were bolted to the floor at the sound of the deafening buzzer that rattled the school windows. We did this drill so often, we were in reflex mode,  believing that, if our school were ever bombed, we would somehow actually remain as the only surviving thing beneath the only surviving desk.  We were kids. We had no idea how ludicrous this drill really was.  I must confess that not so long ago, when some knucklehead actually recommended  protecting ourselves using duct tape–and duct tape was sold out in a matter of days, much to the glee of duct tape manufacturers– I was reminded of the stupidity of this time gone by. I was also reminded that stupidity  and gullibility know no era.  They reproduce themselves perpetually. Perhaps this is why people of my era hear scare terminology such as “global warming” (name suddenly changed to “climate change”) as just another way for today’s equivalent of  bomb shelter contractors to make money by generating Fear. But I digress. I can do that. It’s my blog.

At home, we would hear the same kind of air raid buzzer out on the street. Fathers and other relatives who volunteered for “Civil Defense” would respond to these drills with flashlights, wearing what looked a lot like Construction hats. I never was exactly sure what purpose they would serve if we ever were attacked. I’m not so sure they knew either. All I can tell you is, to a little tyke like me, it was pretty damned scary at first  — and then it just became routine. Brush your teeth. Eat your carrots. Air Raid.

The USSR really hated Americans and Americans really hated them right back, which was rather odd, since none of us ever met. All we knew was our leaders were very serious and “They” were The Enemy.

Enter a  23 year old long drink of water from Texas, named Harvey Lavan “Van”  Cliburn, who had the audacity to enter the International Tchaikovsky Piano Competition — in Moscow.

Much as youtube sometimes annoys me with all the propaganda and all the “disappearing” information, sometimes the place amazes me. Today, I give you an example of why youtube amazes me:  Van Cliburn, the winner of the 1958 Moscow Tchaikovsky Piano Competition. The man who melted the ice of the Cold War for one brief and very touching day–such that even the crusty and mean Nikita Kruschchev embraced him.

Here is a brief documentary of just how much Van Cliburn achieved that day in addition to winning the competition:

This was the time, young as I was, when I began to fall in love with Classical Music, at least subconsciously. There were times I appeared to be an odd ball for that, at a time when songs like Purple People Eater, Witch Doctor and other pretty lame songs dominated the (AM) radio and the 45s section of Woolworth’s — and at a time when the only thing about Classical music most kids my age knew was that Chuck Berry did a shake, rattle and roll tune called Roll Over Beethoven. But I didn’t care.  My birthday was coming up and I remember clearly as if it were today that of all the gifts they showered me with, my favorite gift from my parents was an LP (monaural) of  Van Cliburn performing  Rachmaninoff Concerto No. 3, accompanied by Kirill Kondrashin.   Young as I was, I somehow magically, if not instinctively,  knew  and felt that Concerto No. 3, not Purple People Eater,  was for All Time, whether there was peace or war–and that it is just emotional enough even to break the ice of a very very Cold war. Thank you for that Van.

Below is a recording of Van Cliburn during a return trip to Moscow in 1962,  welcomed and accompanied by one of The Enemy – Kirill Kondrashin.

Incidentally, Van Cliburn is still alive, although I don’t think he has recorded anything since the 70s. You can read 50-year-mark interviews with him here and here.

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