About my most successful failure

Knowing how I enjoy writing and trying to learn more about our family history my sons gave me a very special gift. They asked me 52 questions expecting just one story a week for a year. Afterward, they would print a book with those stories as a special present to me and the future of our family.

I have been on that project for a while, but at this point, I am only about 30% done. Most of my stories are very personal and for the family, but this one is good to be shared with the general public.

This storyworth question happened to be a very hard one. I was mostly successful in everything I have done in my multiple affairs over the years and these were too many to count. And if not, I always landed on my feet afterward. Although, all my life in the USSR, while considered successful by many, should be understood as a tremendous failure actually, as I was part of the failing State. Therefore, I decided to tell you a story about one of my jobs that was a cornerstone of my transformation into the free-thinking person I am today.

My first professional job after graduating was at the technical department of Riga’s largest and oldest power plant. It was a huge enterprise consisting of several companies, employing more than 800 people. The power plant was put in service in April of 1952, the month and the year I was born and it seemed to me sufficient. I didn’t get the job right away. I was appointed to work at the research institute but didn’t get the job because of my nationality. Riga wasn’t as antisemitic as other places in the Soviet Union. Latvian people, generally speaking, hated the russians more than Jews, and therefore we didn’t feel hate as much. The Soviets believed at the time that Jewish people weren’t trustworthy and were open to all kinds of anti-Soviet propaganda. It was an official excuse for the common antisemitism. But in my case, my nationality was an excuse why the research institute refused to hire me, and I got a “free diploma”. (*see note below)

First, I celebrated that. It seemed to me that “free” was good. Yet soon enough, I understood how wrong I was. No one wanted to hire me! Finally, using a reference from one of my friend’s father, I came to the power plant and met with the Chief Engineer. It was an older Jewish man, Abram Grigorevich Volpert. He had a very nice and very soft personality and agreed to give me an entry engineering position. He however took a promise from me, that if ever I would plan to do anything that would cost him trouble, I should quit immediately and on my own accord. I gave him my word and I kept it.

I took the position of the old engineer who was ready to retire. I learned his work quickly and was able to do in a day what the old man was doing in a week. The job was a bit boring for me, but I liked the people at the plant and the feeling was mutual. Soon enough I was promoted to be leader of the Young Communist League, or “Komsomol”, even though I was never a member of the Communist Party. The leader of the plant communist organization was another Jewish man, comrade Izekson. Together we kept all of the required paperwork in order and conducted all necessary meetings and other brainwashing activities. Our Power Plant was always considered one of the best communist organizations in the city. In reality, nobody cared. People worked, lived their lives, and were careless about the party and its ideology. Yet the paperwork was always in order and the head Director of the Power Plant highly appreciated our performance.

Our Thermal Power Plant had a vast territory. There were several more large and small enterprises located there. One of them was the Western section of the national company with a long acronym name of many letters. I don’t remember all of them anymore, but the name began with “Sov …” and ended with” … oi”, as many business names in the USSR.

 It was “The Trest”, meaning that it was a public institution leading the region’s national industry and reporting to Moscow’s Central Committee directly. “The Trest” supervised thermal insulation work throughout the country, and the western section included Latvia, Lithuania, and Belarus. Belarus wasn’t a part of the Western Baltic States, but in the USSR, normal logic never worked.  Why was Estonia missing from the equation, and was replaced by Belorus no one knew, but in this case, no one was asking and no one was interested in it. The government set it that way years ago.

This “Trest” was headed by an old communist, a friend of the power plant director with a long, respected Jewish-sounding surname that some understood as Polish. This man, who was a head of the “Trest”, built for himself privately a huge summer house, or “Dacha” with a fountain, somewhere on the Vidzeme seaside of the Baltics. The fountain turned out to be superfluous. Yet the head of the “Trest” happened to be a scrooge.  He shortchanged his workers and underpaid them for the fountain, they built for him. I should add that all of the building materials for “Dacha” were used illegally from the government funds. The workers got upset and secretly wrote an anonymous letter to the government. The letter had proof that the head of the “Trest” built his summer house illegally using stolen “Trest” funds. The head of the “Trest” was arrested and put in jail. I heard rumors that he actually bribed the Party Leadership to allow him the construction, but he undercut the little men, and that was his grave mistake.

The Ministry of Energy began a selection process for his replacement. Our power plant director was approached to be the recommending person for the candidacy and…! 

I’ve been promoted soon after I was approved.

Understandably, the director of the Power Plant wanted to keep “his man” in that position. I happened to be a “his man”.

That was incredible. I could not even dream of such a career. Even Lily’s dad, who at that time was always critical of me, was impressed. He however told me to be careful though. 

I was only 26 years old and I was already approved for a “nomenklatura” position!

(“nomenklatura” position, meant to be trusted by the Moscow party leadership.)

 I was not a member of the communist party. Although was approached to submit for the membership. I hated the party, but publicly I just modestly refused recommendations to become a party candidate, referring to my lack of self-awareness. That was how I was always officially excused from that burden.

And now I have become a Big Boss! 

I was assigned a fabulous salary of 220 rubles per month plus various premium pay. At that time it was a huge salary. I was given access to the special government supply store where I was able to buy some produce and goods not available to the general public. I was given a huge, very long office with a window, a palm tree, and a portrait of comrade Suslov on the wall. Comrade Suslov was in charge of the communist ideology in Moscow’s central committee. Nobody knew why his portrait was on my wall, but nobody asked any questions. The portrait was old, covered with fly poop under the dusty glass, but it looked very impressive above my office desk and a long conference table.

 I had 100 subordinates. 99 female workers and one man as a driver. 

Yes, you can imagine, they gave me a car with a driver! A personal chauffeur with the Volga model car! 

The Volga was a superior Soviet-made “station wagon” produced in the 60s. The car model” Volga” was an attempt by the Soviets to copy an American Chevrolet Styline Deluxe 1952 model. 

I was on the top of the triumph.

My friend Juris, a powerplant painter, did not like the portrait of Suslov very much and he suggested to paint for me anyone from the Moscow government of my choice. I modestly refused and decided to leave Brezhnev’s cardinal of ideology on my office’s beige-papered wall.

Under my leadership, the company began to work in a new way. First of all, I asked the driver never to take me home in my Volga. It was kind of awkward for me. I was a simple person and used the car only for business trips. After that, I called all of my 99 women to a general meeting to find out why we were in the last place in the social work performance competition.

(Here I want to step back and explain to the uninformed American reader why only women worked on the thermal insulation work. The answer to this question was surprisingly simple: Men didn’t want to. Glass wool dust, asbestos, mildew, wind, unsafe height, and poor safety equipment - this work was extremely hard, but the russian women surprisingly didn’t mind.)

It turned out that most of my women had families. Every day they had to run to the grocery store, stand in line, get something, cook something, and care for their families. There was no time left to work with such a schedule and therefore they missed a lot of work hours.

I made my new decision instantly. I allowed the eight-hour working day to be divided into three four-hour segments, two paid work segments, and one free for personal time. Each team decided which and when there were two selections to choose. Thereafter everyone had enough time for everything in a day and the work began to boil. In the first few months, my 99 ladies team brought us to one of the first places in the country in terms of labor productivity.

Four times a year I had to go to Moscow with a report. My first visit was calm, unemotional, and routine-like. But the whole company was preparing for the second. It was when we stepped forward in regional competition and I had to bring home the award from Moscow.

I was obviously on the top of my personal triumph. To be recognized by your superiours was always pleasant, but if those superiours are as high as in Moscow, that was a real honor!

In the management of the “Trest”, I was welcomed cordially, congratulated, shook hands, and welcomed. At the end of the day, the Chief Manager, the head of the “Trest” took me by the elbow and whispered: 

   - Well, young man, I’ll introduce you to the comrade deputy minister. - I was flattered.

The “Trest” was located in the same building as the Ministry of Energy of the USSR. Several people were prepared for our appointment with the deputy minister. Everyone, like me, was the head of various sections of the “Trest”. All present were nervous tremendously. I however couldn’t hide my happiness. My usual smile got even bigger and I didn’t even try to hide it.

We were first led through a long hallway with two rows of lady typists on both sides. We got to sit on a line of chairs along the wall to wait. We waited for a long time, about an hour. And finally, we were invited to come in. I was excited from the anticipation.

The office was large, and decorated with beautiful antique furniture. At the end of the room was a huge desk with several telephones and a large bronze ink set in the form of the elephants. The table and chairs were mahogany trimmed with something green and ornamented with gold. A large portrait of Brezhnev hung on the wall.

The Deputy Minister of Energy stood at the window and looked out into the street.

It was quiet. The Deputy Minister was presuming some forthcoming decisions.

After waiting a few minutes, the Head of “Trest” who accompanied us coughed and began the introduction.

The Deputy Minister of Energy slowly turned away from the window and looked over us with a piercing gaze coming out of his small eyes. His eyes were shifted to the bridge of his nose as if it were done by some incredible force trying to deform his face.

 Suddenly those eyes stopped at me.

I must admit my heart was beating faster than usual. The same was true for everybody. I heard everyone’s hearts beat as well.

- Who is that one with the long hair? -  He asked, pointing at me.

- This is our new head manager of the western section, the one who has raised production achievements several times… - proudly reported the Head of “Trest”.

- A Jew?- the deputy minister asked, interrupting the manager and pointing at me again.

Everyone stood in silence.

- Yes, I’m a Jew, - I said quietly despite the lump that suddenly appeared in my throat.

- Married?

- Yes…

- Is your wife also Jewish?

- Yes…

- You’re fired! Go away, everyone, and leave at once!

I froze. I always knew what to say back in any sudden or unusual situation, but that time I froze. My legs became full of lead. My temples started to beat so strongly, so I pushed them back with my hands to keep them from bursting. I slowly started to walk back toward the door.

In a minute I was back in the hallway. I leaned against the wall and tried to overcome the lump that for some reason filled everything in my throat. 

I couldn’t understand what just happened. I was ready for an award, for the recognition. I absolutely wasn’t ready for what just happened.

 The people accompanying me tried to say something sympathetic to me. The manager of the “Trest” grumbled more than others and offered to go back to speak on my behalf. He had a Jewish last name himself, but he told me he changed his passport nationality to become Polish. Many Jewish people in Moscow did that to advance their careers in the Soviet System.

He went back to talk to the comrade minister on my behalf.

I calmed down a bit, walked away from the door and soon I was asked to come back.

Comrade Vorontsov (it seems to me that his last name sounded exactly like that Vorontsov, although I don’t remember it exactly now), was sitting at the desk this time and he invited me to sit down with a hand motion.

I sat down.

 - I think you misunderstood me,- he said, looking at me with a visible gesticulation of regret.

 -  You probably thought that I fired you for being a Jew. - He said.

  - You are mistaken. I have a positive attitude towards Jews. I even have a Jew among my friends, you know…, and he is a good person actually. My kind of a guy, - he grinned.

  -  I fired you because you… - He got silent for half a minute and continued, quickly like he was afraid to lose the thought that he suddenly found.

- Yes, I fired you because you are too young! Very young, indeed! And yes, you still have a long way to go… Where did you work before your appointment?

- At Riga’s Power Plant, in the production and technology department, I was an engineer there. -  I responded quietly.

- That’s fine. You should go back. What do we have today? Thursday. Excellent. As of Monday, go to your old job and I promise you - no one will ask you a single question. Now you can go. - and he showed me to the door with his little eyes, telling me with his body language that the case was closed and he spent too much time with me already.

And I left without saying anything. I could not think. I just didn’t have the strength or the ability to talk. I was crushed. Completely. I don’t remember how I got to the railroad station, or how I got back to Riga. Everything shredded into pieces in my head.

And on Monday morning, I went to work at my old workplace. My desk was waiting for me, as I’ve never left. Some of my stuff from my big office with comrade Suslov on the wall was actually set on the bookshelf near my desk. And no one, absolutely no one asked where I was all these months …

Only Juris, the powerplant painter, told me that he knew and understood everything and invited me for a drink. We drank, we drank a lot and the next day I went up to see my boss Abram Gregorevich Volpert, and said that this was the time. And that I wanted to leave the job on my own accord. And that I wouldn’t cause him any trouble.

Abram Gregorevich didn’t mind…

That was my greatest success that became a failure, but it was an event in my life that brought us over to the free world eventually.

I understood that no matter how smart or efficient I would be I never will reach the top and always would become subordinate to the big men in Moscow. I didn't want that either for myself or for my little son's future.

However, the decision to leave the country came to me later, and that would be another story.

Alex M

*******

• (Free diploma.) Talking to my sons after they read this story, I understood the necessity to explain that term.

(Everybody knew about free education in the USSR and many thought it was something remarkable. Yet, there are no "free lunches" anywhere, and in the Soviet system especially. Even if we would discard the low quality of education and the facilities, there were the actual ways the government took money back from you. For the first three years after graduating and getting the engineering diploma, the graduates would be called young specialists, and their salary would be cut by 30%. Furthermore, the employment will be by appointment of the government committee only. That committee may or may not send you to work in the area where you reside or are willing to relocate. Many times the new employment will be in very remote areas of the country such as Siberia, Far East, or North, areas where people don't want to go.

I was lucky. My diploma grades were high and a local engineering research facility selected me for employment. Later, the government discovered that while in university I was accused of Zionism and anti-Soviet propaganda and expelled. I was accused only because I wanted to study Jewish history. I was soon reinstated, but the record remained.

The research facility didn't want to employ a Jew with a Zionist record and offered me a "free diploma," meaning, go and look for a job yourself.

Alex M