Medford mail tribune., April 28, 1963, Image 38

Fmmily WtmJclyr April IS,
Hope waves to imaginary welcome party
at he etept from Ruteian jot (right)
at hint cow airport. Deadpan (below), he
Met on fur hat at GUM department ttore.
MOSCOW
Alumyt the entertainer. Bob perform!
before V. S. Embatey prrtonnel in Moscow.
Here's what happened when this irrepressible comedian visited the
189$
I WON'T KEEP YOU in suspense. We had
a very successful trip to Russia. We
made it back.
We found only two kinds of hotels in Russia.
The prerevolutionary type like the National, and
the new hotels, which look exactly like the Na
tional. We were assigned to the Ukraine Hotel,
which waa an exception to the rule. We were
amazed at how modern it waa. The Ukraine waa
completed in 1957 and looked like a Japanese
copy of the Waldorf-Astoria.
The first five floors are lobby, which may very
well have been elegantly furnished. I'll never know.
The entire time we were there, most of the furni
ture was covered by sheets. The people's uphol
stery is not to be abused. Not even by the people.
When it comes to crowding, the Moscow eleva
tors begin where the New York subways leave
off. The elevators belong to the people, and they
all try to use the same one at the same time. In
the 30-odd trips I made up and down, I don't
think my feet ever did touch the floor. It was my
first intimate contact with the Russian people.
And this much I learned : garlic outsells Arpege.
In trying to describe my suite, I find it difficult
to be fair. To a visiting fireman from Pinsk, it
might seem rather luxurious, but the average
American would expect something more from a
big new hotel in the capital city. He'd expect and
get more from a motel on Highway 66.
My room was one of the more lavish; it had a
piano, singularly out of tune. It also had a 20
inch television set, which was largely responsible
for a joke that was widely quoted.
After I finished unpacking, we played the popu
lar Russian tourist game, "Search for the hidden
microphone." The tv set with all its wires was a
very suspect place, and we searched it thoroughly
without finding anything.
Back in the States, a reporter asked if they
had television in Russia, and without thinking, I
replied, "Yes. But it watches you."
That brings us to a question that I've been
asked many, many times. Were we spied on?
Were our rooms bugged? Were we tailed?
Truthfully, I don't know. After all the stories
you're told and have heard, you expect to be.
Whenever I entered my room, I'd pound on the
wall and yell, "Testing! Testing! One! Two!
Three! Am I coming in loud and clear?" And
whenever we were discussing anything that might
in any way be misinterpreted, one of us would
look up at the ventilator and holler, "Only kid
ding, Kru!"
On leaving the room, I'd sign off by facing
AND
the wall and shout, "That concludes our broad
cast for this afternoon. We now present an inter
lude of organ music. Be sure and catch the late,
late show, same time, same room." Actually we
were half -joking when we did this, but it was
a joke only because there was a possibility that
the Big Bear was listening.
We were told that the entire 13th floor of the
hotel was loaded with tape-recording and monitor
ing equipment We had no way of knowing
whether this was true or not Stairway doors
were locked, and the elevators had no button for
the 13th floor, which is pretty suspicious. On the
other hand, neither does the Beverly Hilton,
which leads to an obvious conclusion: either the
Russians are superstitious, or Conrad Hilton has
a mighty interesting record collection.
W E knew that all the interpreters were of
ficial representatives of the government and
presumably high in favor. Naturally, we expected
some hard-core zealot who would drown us in a
sea of propaganda. Not Larissa. She was a shy,
quiet girl, proud of her country and ber job.
I don't know whether it was government policy
or Larissa's natural reticence, but ahe showed
absolutely no curiosity about the United States.
She did ask where we were from, and when we
told her California, she said, "I understand the
weather is lovely there." Which proves that the
Russians aren't the only ones who've been suc
cessful with brainwashing.
No wonder Russia does so well in the Winter
Olympics. I've never seen so much snow. The
whole country looks like it was painted by Grand
ma Moses. Of course, I'm not exactly new to the
cold I've been to Alaska, Greenland, Iceland, and
several Academy Award presentations.
OUR first stop waa Red Square, the heart of
Moscow if Moscow has one. At the south
end of the square is St Basil's Cathedral with its
nine onion-shaped domes, Russia's answer to
Disneyland.
To the west, near the Kremlin waU. is one of
the most modern-looking buildings in Moscow.
When I was there, it was known as Lenin's and
Stalin's tomb. That gives you an idea of the hous
ing problem you even had to share a tomb.
The mausoleum waa the biggest show in Russia.
The day was bitter cold. A deep breath was like
inhaling an ice pick. And yet there was a line
of people eight deep and a half-mile long wait
ing to get into the tomb. And we were told that
it was this way every day.
There was a cordon of police marking off a
ME
By
large area around the tomb. We wanted to move
in close and get shots of the people lined up. Not
speaking any Russian, we couldn't ask for per
mission, so we decided to just walk through the
line of police with our camera and see what
happened. Nothing did. They paid no attention to
us. When a few curious Russian civilians tried
to follow us through, however, the police stopped
them. It was almost as though word had been
sent down from above that we were not to be
bothered. ,
We went on a quick tour of the Kremlin, an
area that covers some 64 acres. If it had been a
golf course, we might all be sleeping better these
nights.
As part of the propaganda, all of the treasures
of the royal families are now on view for the
public. I saw one crown with more than 8,800
large diamonds in it It would have made a won
derful beany for Zaa Zsa.
Jack Benny asked me to bring back a fur hat
with a part in it So I crossed Red Square to visit
the GUM department store. It was built under the
Czar in 1893. I think the chocolate bar I bought
was part of the original stock. Incidentally, the
price for one bar of candy was 11.60.
I tried to buy one of those fur hats like I'd seen
the men wearing. Then I found out those aren't
hats. That's the way they cut their hair.
Don't let anyone tell you that the Russians
capital of Soviet Russia,
aren't passionate. At the perfume counter, they
displayed such sexy-sounding scents as "Kremlin"
and "Our Moscow." I don't know how they missed
"Moonlight on the Collective Farm," "Volga Boat
man," and "Essence of Tractor."
And if you want to bring a romantic tear to
your girl's eye, send her a box of candy. There's
a picture of a hydroelectric plant on the cover.
The day we were there. GUM was having a big
faahion show. It was not unlike our own Amer
ican fashion shows. The clothes in the show were
the height of faahion; however, you seldom saw
a woman on the street wearing anything even ap
proaching this. The women bricklayers and the
gals shoveling snow in the streets lean more to
ward Ma Kettle than Loretta Young.
This was a Sunday, the one big shopping day
in Moscow. The stores and streets were jammed
with lookers and a few feelers. The high prices
stopped the actual buyers.
Everywhere we went we were immediately rec
ognised as foreigners. I was stopped only once by
a bright-eyed 11-year-old boy who said, "Hey,
American, you got any postal cards of New
York?" I whisked the urchin into a side alley
and traded him a stick of gum for a little pin
BOB HOPE
commemorating the 40th anniversary of the Re
volution. You wear it on your lapel and it guaran
tees you free admission to any Congressional
investigation.
No Russians appeared to recognise me. I don't
know whether it's because my pictures haven't
played there or because they have.
At Sverdlovsk Square I visited the pride and
joy of Moscow, one of the underground stations
of the subway. These stations-are magnificent
The marble walla are lined with beautiful murals,
porcelain, and bas-relief. It's like a drive-in movie
for trains. Actually, it's a wonderful idea: you
can get an art education while you're having your
ribs broken.
The subway belongs to the people and they
keep it spotless. A litterbug is liable to be
nudged into the third rail. Two million pas
sengers a day ride the subway, and there isn't a
wad of gum in sight How backward can you get?
When I returned to my hotel room, I found
that my suitcase was open and my monologues
were spread out on the bed. These were all jokes
about Russia. Some I had done on radio; some
on television; and some I never would do any
where. There were more than 600 different kinds
of jokes, but these will give you a general idea:
They have a national lottery in Russia. It's
called living.
(Continued on page I)
a country not known for its
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