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Rockets and People
In 1923, yet another event took place that gave me reason to consider myself a
person fully steeped in aviation and announce to my chums that in the future I
would select a flying career. In Moscow, the First Agricultural and Crafts Exhibition
opened in the area that today is Gorky Park.The exhibition was a big event in the
life of the a nation making the transition from a system of War Communism to a
New Economic Policy—NEP, which allowed and even encouraged capitalistic
enterprise in small manufacturing and commerce. Our Nizhnekhodynskaya factory
was transferred from the state sector for lease by a private stockholder company.
Cloth wares from the factory, expensive for those times, were presented at the exhibition.
On one of these occasions my father took me along. He was occupied with
business matters, and I roamed around the exhibition the entire day studying the
tents of northern reindeer herders, the yurts of Central Asian nomads, and the new
show houses of average peasants. 10 The housing was presented together with the
proprietors, live camels, reindeer, fattened horses, and various and sundry fowl. At
the same time, agricultural produce from every geographical area of the country
was on sale.
But for me, the most interesting sight was the passenger Junkers. On the bank
of the Moscow River there was a small line of respectable citizens, who for a price
unknown to me, were seated four at a time in the seaplane. It took off, circled over
Moscow, and five minutes later taxied back up to the dock.
At the end of the day, after hunting for my father, I evidently made him feel so
sorry for me, that after speaking with someone who obviously had connections,
he led me to the line for the Junkers.The rest was like a fairy tale. For the first time
in my life, I flew! Afterwards, this first “commercial” flight gave me the gumption
to look down on all those who had never flown.
On 21 January 1924, Lenin died. In spite of the regular publication of bulletins
concerning Lenin’s grave illness, the news of his death was perceived as a great
misfortune in our family and among the factory workers.The grief was sincere. I
remember my mother’s words:“Now everything could be lost.” Father was cautious
and asked her not to speak unnecessarily, especially with her many patients. During
the days of mourning, the factory almost came to a standstill. In spite of the intense
cold—the temperature fell to -25° C—the majority of the workers went to stand
in line at the House of Trade Unions to say goodbye to Lenin.
After some domestic dissension, Mother announced that she must go to say
goodbye to the great man, and she took me and other children whose parents gave
their permission. Bundled up beyond recognition, eight or ten boys led on foot by
my mother headed for House of Trade Unions. I remember that we often warmed
ourselves by campfires that the Red Army soldiers kept burning along the length
of the entire line.We entered the Hall of Columns after spending six hours in the
subzero cold. I recall that someone said,“Let the children come closer.”And so, for
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10. Yurts were domed tents used by nomadic groups in central Asia.