The Most Russian Person. Владимир Шатакишвили

of the Caucasian Mineral Waters, where almost everyone went to restore health. Sergey Pavlovich could not resist talking about our first meeting, about the huge “chief” who made him put on a sheepskin coat, felt boots, drink a glass of brandy in the cold and safely delivered to his destination. We parted somewhere by midnight.

      Then there was another, third, meeting with Korolev in Sochi. In autumn of 1963 the velvet season settled on the Black Sea coast. The new triumph of the Soviet cosmonautics! The flight was carried out by the first woman cosmonaut in the world – Valentina Tereshkova. That year I received a personal voucher to the Sochi sanatorium “Zvezdochka”. Holders of such vouchers were settled in luxury rooms or in separate cottages. I got a cottage for two rooms. In the other half Nikolay Konstantinovich Baibakov, who for nearly thirty years headed the USSR State Planning Committee, was having resting with his family. In terms of age, he is older than me by a year, and, as far as I know, he is the only living Commissar of today (the Minister) of the Stalin call. Seems that he had headed the People's Commissariat of the oil industry since 1943. We talked much and learned about each other a lot of interesting things in twenty-four days of rest. Having came back from the beach one day, I found a note on my desk saying the chief medical officer of the sanatorium invited me to his place. It turned out that a meeting with cosmonauts was scheduled for this time. The neighbor also received an invitation, and together we went. Indeed, cosmonauts Andriyan Nikolaev and Pavel Popovich arrived, and about thirty minutes later Sergey Pavlovich Korolev arrived with a retinue of five people. He was having rest at the government dacha. We had interesting time: all the attention in those years was riveted on the heroes of space, they were celestials.”

      “Well, did you manage to talk to Korolev in presence of so many people?”

      “Of course. We embraced, shook hands friendly and during the toast he again recalled the episode of our first acquaintance, thanked for the considerate attitude and even jokingly said that I was his bodyguard during the visits to the Urals.”

      “And what were the drinks?”

      “There was everything on the table: Armenian brandy, Georgian wine, Russian vodka, champagne. This time I drank wine, Sergey Pavlovich only brandy and as always drank a little, my neighbor Baibakov – vodka. Korolev's friendly attitude, his story about the “exploits” on “Mayak” immediately won Nikolay Konstantinovich’s favour. After this meeting and before the end of the holiday, we began to communicate more and almost made friends, exchanged phone numbers, although we never saw each other again.”

      “You know, Ivan Nikiforovich, what is the most amazing thing about your story? Of the listed characters ofthat memorable meeting, only Baibakov and Medyanik are still alive. On March 5, 2006, in the Column Hall of the House of the Unions, ninety-fifth anniversary of Nilolay Konstantinovich was solemnly celebrated. Speakers noted the outstanding achievements of our countryman. There were many honored guests from among the former secretaries of the Central Committee, union and republican ministers, representatives of CIS. Among those present and speaking there were congratulations from N. I. Ryzhkov, G. A. Zyuganov, Y. M. Luzhkov, Y. P. Ryabov, N. I. Maslennikov, Y. P. Batalin, E. S. Korshunov. Each guest was presented with souvenirs and a book “Baibakov from Stalin to Yeltsin”.

      And on June 2, 2007, Medyanik turned 95 years old. Hometown congratulated him adequately on this day.”

      “There has something gone absurdly wrong with the academics,” recalls Ivan Nikiforovich.” Most of them worked on a permanent basis in Dubna, Arzamas-16, KB-2, KB-3. They came to “Mayak” mainly to test their own inventions. Sometimes it happened that, where he had invented or discovered something had to be put into production, and then there were problems that affected the time of creation of the bomb. Time was running out, no failures were allowed. And then, according to Stalin’s personal instructions, all key scientists, project participants, were transported to our place for the completion of the installation and the commissioning of the main production facilities. So those three special two-story cottages were filled with renowned residents. Complete secrecy was observed. Only a few people knew who came or was leaving: the director of the plant, his deputy on security, representative from the Council of Ministers, I and maybe one or two people more. It was damn nice when at a solemn banquet in honor of the twentieth anniversary of the first testing, one of the academicians stood up and offered a toast, “To the “chief” who met and saw us off and wrapped in warm sheepskin coats!”

      They made me stand up, and the whole hall, two or three hundred, men applauded.

      There is one more thing to add. Most of the academicians – physicists, chemists, mathematicians – at the time of their work in the project to create the atomic bomb were classified. It was only after a successful test, on August 29, 1949, the party and the government appreciated their achievements and showered orders, medals, the Stars of Heroes, Stalin, Lenin, State and even Nobel prizes. If my memory doesn’t fail me, three times Heroes among those who were related to the bomb, were eleven people.”

      “Ivan Nikiforovich, maybe I will surprise you now. We talked a lot about the great Kurchatov, but did you know that once he saved me from major troubles?”

      “And when was it?”

      “In the early eighties.”

      “Well, you, brother, and exaggerate! Igor Vasilyevich passed away in 1960, toy were only eight then.”

      “And, nevertheless, it is.”

      I will cite for readers an excerpt from my first book, “The Casket of Colourful Contemporaries.”

      "The table of the presidium"

      In MOSCOW, I used to rent a room at the Orlyonok Hotel – a favorite, democratic, always hospitable and accessible. In the winter of eighty-three I and Volodya Avetisov stayed in Orlyonok for three days. On the eve of departure, we went to the center of Moscow, booked a table in the elite and closed to the non-artistic people restaurant of the WTO. Everything pleased there – excellent cuisine and excellent service, tremendous attention to the person and the opportunity to witness the capital celebrities – the people of the theater and cinema – meeting whom everybody dreamt in youth. I repeat, I do not belong to the artistic circle; in theatrical language I was introduced in this circle by Valery Shein, a great friend of Boris Rosenfeld, the manager of concert programs in Moscow. The restaurant began to live life to the fullest at midnight – from the hour when the theaters finished spectacles, and the artists went to have dinner, chat with each other, relax over a glass of brandy or vodka, move away from unrest, after the performance. During the day few people looked here. I really liked not to surprise Volodya Avetisov, but to show him that my frequent trips to the capital had paid of: I met interesting people, plunged into the world of art, gained connections, without which even the restaurant like the WTO was not possible.

      Having wandered around the city, at half past seven in the evening, we went to Pushkin Square to that very restaurant. Boris Nikolaevich, the waiter with whom we agreed in advance, met us. He took us to the table I ordered, and I was surprised to read the sign, “The chairman's table.” Such a sign made it possible not to disturb us, because by half past ten the hall was full, there were not enough seats. And the sign was a kind of security certificate, that’s the way Boris Nikolaevich tried. “The chairman's table” was stunningly served. I think that the restaurant business designers were worth it for a reason: everything was decorated with taste, elegantly, richly. A lot of snacks, alcohol, although Boris Nikolaevich knew that I did not have an addiction to drinking. But he could not know my friend’s taste, and, naturally, as the serving protocol required, put a bottle of Armenian brandy. The situation itself was disposed to drink off, and we took two or three shots.

      Looking around, we noticed that there were no vacant seats in the hall, except for our two. And then Boris Nikolaevich asked us if we would be so kind as to let two ladies sit down at our table. We didn’t object to ladies, but, frankly, we were not disposed to start new acquaintances. He explained the situation, “Our regular customers, both actresses.”

      I will be frank, both ladies were nice, beautiful and, as it turned out later, really worked in the theater – either in the Theater for Young People, or in the theater at the House of Culture of the Likhachev Automobile Plant. I can not be accurate today, for many years have passed.