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Rockets and People
years this fashion had spread to the proletarian youth. I was very proud of the
jacket that I had honestly earned.
In the spring of 1931, there was a movement to transfer shops and even individual
teams of workers to a self-financing operating basis.The Komsomol committee
took the initiative and organized self-financing teams of young workers in
several shops. Such a team was also formed in our electrical shop and they included
me on the team. Our eight-man team was given the critical assignment of providing,
within a very short time frame, all the electrical equipment for the automated
canteen being built for the factory, which included four dining halls and a restaurant
for Stakhanovites. We were supposed to put into operation a multitude of
electrical processing equipment, lighting, ventilation, etc. We labored with an
increased workload, and together with the construction crew, met the deadline to
put Moscow’s second canteen into operation.
Because of our team’s labor victory, they sent me as part of a delegation from
Factory No. 22 to a rally of shock workers from young Muscovite self-financing
teams at the House of Trade Unions in the Hall of Columns. Moscow Komsomol
leader Sasha Lukyanov asked our delegation to present a report about our accomplishments.
They called on me to speak from the podium. My third time in the
Hall of Columns I received the opportunity to pontificate at the top of my voice
about the labor triumphs of the Factory No. 22 Komsomol members and of our
self-financing team in particular.
I probably overdid it. My voice cracked. Later they told me that I squeaked, and
suddenly instead of normal speech there was high-pitched childlike babbling.The
hall fell silent and then thundered with laughter.Without losing his cool, Lukyanov
started to applaud and the audience affably joined in. I regained my composure,
and encouraged by a shout from the audience, “Come on, keep going, don’t be
shy!” I finished my fiery speech in a normal voice. Under repeated applause I
proudly left the podium. Back at our company they had to make fun of me:“Great
idea.They’ll forget all the other speeches, but the fame of Factory No. 22 is going
to spread all over Moscow.”
Fame did not come easy.To run the power and lighting cables we manually
chiseled grooves and holes in the concrete walls. My left hand swelled from
being hit with the heavy hammer. Sometimes I missed and hit it rather than the
chisel.The fingers of both hands were permanently coated with the black resin
that we used to separate the high-voltage cables.“Now when you enter the institute,
they won’t even have to look at any questionnaire information—it’s obvious
that you are a real proletarian,” Mama joked as she applied salve and
bandaged my work injuries.
It would be two more years before I could realize my dream to enter the
school of electrical engineering. However, if I had had the time back then to
make the most fantastic predictions concerning my fate, I never would have
dreamed that seventy years later, sitting in a luxurious restaurant on the third floor
of that same canteen, Academician Chertok, Hero of Socialist Labor, holder of
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