- Joined
- Jul 28, 2003
My translation of an interview with the Protopopovs. Hyperlinks have been added by me.
[size=-1]February 19*, 2007, №025-M (17 161)[/size]
It happened February 13th, during the celebration of Tatiana Tarasova’s 60th birthday. After twenty-eight years, Olympic champions of Innsbruck and Grenoble, the famous Lyudmila Belousova and Oleg Protopopov once again took the ice in Moscow. The overflowing 14-thousand seat Ice palace at Khodynski Field stood up to great the sport’s legends. Having skated their program to the audience’s applause, the mature but not yet old stars flew back to Switzerland, where Grindelwald has been their home for the past decades. They flew back, but promised to return.
[size=+1]ABOUT YASHA DOBKIN’S BOOTS[/size]
Oleg Alekseyevich, I’m looking at your boots …
Oleg Protopopov: Yes, you could say it’s a museum piece. It even has a stamp “Made in USSR”.
How come?
O.P.: I’ve been skating in them for almost thirty years, since 1978. It’s the handiwork of Yasha Dobkin. He was a great cobbler, a true master. He worked in an experimental shoe factory in Moscow, and always made boots for Luda and me.
Lyudmila Belousova: Unfortunately, mine didn’t make it to today, they fell apart ten years ago, but I ordered the exact copies of the ones Yakov Samuilovich made for me. They aren’t as good – they rougher, not as smooth, but what else can I do.
O.P.: Mine are still in working order. I just have to change blades from time to time. A famous company John Wilson presents us with a pair each year. It’s not a cheap gift. Good skates are expensive.
How much?
L.B.: The ones like ours – 500 to 700 dollars.
O.P.: A pair usually lasts three seasons, but the main thing is to preserve the boots. Leather got worn a bit inside, so I made special flexible soles, and continue to wear them. They don’t make boots like that for skaters anymore. First of all, leather is different, it’s prepared differently and breaks with time. Secondly, and more importantly, the base has changed; what they make now is more like Dutch or Chinese wooden shoes – the construction is stiff and not flexible. The can hardly move in them. Note how ice dancers cut the backs off the shoes – otherwise, they can’t point their toes. Yasha Dobkin made the shoes so perfect, it didn’t press, didn’t create calluses… he was a true professional!
[size=+1]ABOUT THE LOST LUGGAGE[/size]
Oleg Alekseyevich, so you went AWOL in those boots, and you returned in them as well.
O.P.: Yes, going AWOL in my expression. That’s how I talked about my defection from USSR. Honestly, I never thought the empire would one day fall; we didn’t plan to come back, we thought it was a one way road, without a way back. When we left, we said our farewells, we took with use everything we valued most, things we couldn’t live without. Since we planned to skate, to continue the skating career that was so roughly interrupted here, we were mainly concerned with our athletic equipment.
L.B.: We’re lucky that nothing got lost, not then, not later on.
O.P.: It happened one time. Remember the luggage with concert costumes disappearing?
L.B.: Yes, but that happened before our emigration. It was after the 1965 World championships in Colorado Springs.
O.P.: That was when we won the first ever pair skating “gold” in Soviet sports history.
L.B.: A year earlier, we won the Olympics in Innsbruck.
O.P.: Yes, but the big world tour took place after Colorado Springs.
L.B.: We first toured the United States, and then flew to Canada.
O.P.: When we went to collect our luggage in Montreal, one of our two bags was missing.
With the skates?
L.B.: They didn’t have such strict rules back then, so we had the skates with us. However, the lost bag had the miniature gold skates with diamonds that got for Worlds win, the champion medals, and, most importantly, the costumes! We searched, but there was nothing. We had to perform that night. What do we do?! The organizers looked around, and finally got me a twelve-year-old girl dress – it was short, with a waistline around the armpits.
O.P.: A German singles skater Sepp Schönmetzlerlent me his costume. A great guy! He’s now publishing a sports magazine in Germany. In a word, Sepp helped me out, but he’s a bit shorter than I, the hem of the pants didn’t reach the ankles, the sleeves on the hacked didn’t cover the wrists – laughter and tears, really!
L.B.: That’s how we skated to “Dreams of Love”. I – in a schoolgirl dress, Oleg – in somebody else’s ill-fitting suit.
O.P.: How we looked…
Did you find the bag eventually?
L.B.: No, we flew back to Europe with nothing!
[size=+1]ABOUT FEES[/size]
O.P.: In Germany, they offered to make us new costumes. We were happy. We were so naïve, we didn’t understand we were creating advertisement for the company. Later on, the Germans were telling everyone they were making the clothing for the Soviet Union champions. In theory, we could have refused to take part in exhibition tour, especially since we had a reason. Yet the USSR Sports Committee we strict about it, didn’t let anyone sneak out of it, which is of course understandable – show organizes paid incredible money for that time – two and a half thousand bucks each time we took the ice!
Did you get the money?
O.P.: Yeah, right. We got a whole lot of nothing.
L.B.: To be exact, we got fifty Swiss franks. No, no, twenty five. Pennies, really.
Clearly that’s not enough for new costumes, perhaps even for new shoelaces.
L.B.: Luckily, the bag was ultimately found, it was brought to our hotel
O.P.: When I saw it, my first thought was – are the medals there? I opened the locks – there they were. Bit relief.
L.B.: You want to know why the bag got lost in Montreal? They had Ukrainian immigrants work as loaders in that airport. They saw Russian names, the country listed as USSR, and they just put the bag aside.
O.P.: They knew whose bag it was, they wanted to destroy the performance. Anti-Soviet feelings were very strong in Ukrainian Diaspora.
[size=+1]ABOUT PERESTROIKA[/size]
Real guerillas, what are you going to do? Soon enough, though, you were considered enemies of the people as well
O.P.: Yes, our homeland forgot we existed. We settled in Switzerland in 1979, and we didn’t see the first Moscow journalist in Grindelwald until 1989.
L.B.: Here in Russia Perestroika was in full swing, we were already cleared, we were no longer put down everywhere, but the conversation was still very bizarre and biased.
O.P.: A journalist was a young girl, and some of her questions were real slaps-in-the-face, I was quite amazed. Then again, what’s surprising about it? Soviet propaganda knew how to brainwash. The country lived in a bubble, we could feel it even living in the prosperous Europe. All the calls to USSR were listened to, letters would disappear. I would dial my mom’s number, and know it’s all being monitored.
L.B.: We signed the letters with fake names, and sent them through friends in Hungary or Germany. We used Aesopian language, never mentioned competitions or performances, only talked about lectures. It was a sort of hind-and-seek with the System. One channel would close up, and we would look for another.
O.P.: Though mom never thought necessary to hide anything, she’s say it like it is. I remember one time, she asked me on the phone, “Why do they call Brezhnev ‘mister’? He’s the head of a workers-and-peasants country, that’s how he should be addressed”. The connection broke off immediately, literally while she was talking. However, KGB wasn’t the only one listening in, I also saved the tapes with our conversations. Perhaps those recordings aren’t of much value to others, but for me, it’s my history, a part of my life. Mom died in 1992, I never saw her again, I only got do bow down to her grave in 2003, when I first came here following a 24-year absence.
L.B.: At least, my sister was allowed to visit us beginning in late 80’s. We still couldn’t go to Soviet Union, even after the rehabilitation.
Why?
L.B.: We didn’t officially have Swiss citizenship then. We only got it in 1995. As residents, we could travel anywhere in the world except for Eastern Europe. If we went to USSR, we couldn’t go back. We waited for Swiss passport for sixteen years.
There were no exceptions made for you?
L.B.: Absolutely not. Of course, we could have moved to another country where it would have been quicker, but we chose not to do that. First, we received the so-called cart “A”, then cart “B”, and finally the “C”.
O.P.: As opposed to other countries, in Switzerland it’s not the president or the government that grants citizenship. It’s the actual residents of where you live. Luda and I have lived in the mountain village of Grindelwald with a population of 3800 people for 28 years. They were the ones who voted. Not everyone, of course, just those who came.
How many votes did you get?
O.P.: Three hundred and fifty “for”, and not one “against”. The local verdict then had to be approved on the canton and federal levels. That, however, was just a formality.
Was it worth it to wait that long?
O.P.: We didn’t wait, we lived.
[size=+1]ABOUT Grindelwald [/size]
I’ve been to y our Grindelwald a couple of times. Sorry, but it’s a real backwater!
L.B.: You probably came during Summer or Fall, in the low season. In the Winter, it’s one of the trendiest skiing resorts in the world. American and Japanese tourists come in droves. We don’t spend that much time there, though, we tour about half the year.
Did you buy a home?
O.P.: We still don’t own anything in Grindelwald. We continue to rent. It’s easier that way. Otherwise, we’d have to pay for the land, and all that. Why bother?
L.B.: If we were young, if we lived in a large family with children, it would have been different, but in our case.
You said one time that you didn’t have children because you knew they would have been the regime’s hostages
L.B.: That’s true. We saw how Victor Korchnoi suffered. He left, but Bella and their son remained in USSR. Vitya was essentially blackmailed, they told him if he defeated Karpov, he could forget his family. We’ve heard about it a bit. In Switzerland, Bella had the same lawyer as we did. Soviet regime did not forgive those who tried to swim against the current. That’s why when asked about nostalgia I always said that at least, if we really miss the languages, we can always turn on the TV. We put the “dish” that receives Russian channels a long time ago.
[size=+1]ABOUT REASONS TO LEAVE [/size]
Are you saying you never regretted leaving the Union behind?
O.P.: There were at one point rumors about us trying to go back, but that’s a lie. Yes, I was born in Leningrad, and never wanted to leave it. One time I even told Ekaterina Furtseva, the culture minister who wanted Luda and me to move to Moscow, that I wanted to die in my native city. However, things changed. At one point, we felt like we were in prison. Immigration was the only way to get out. Believe us, the decision wasn’t easy. We were forced to make it. Just as we were previously chased out of elite sport.
It’s all history, I guess few now remember that were preparing for the 72 Olympics in Sapporo. Rodnina/ Ulanov were the favorites, our students Smirnova/ Suraikin were seconds, but we had every reason to expect the third place. At least. I remember how I tried to convice Sergei Pavlov, the country’s main athlete, “We have a chance to take the whole Olympic podium! We can’t lose such an opportunity!” What a naïve cretin I was! Nobody took us anywhere. The pair skating “bronze” was already promised to the GDR team; in return, the Germans promised to support Sergei Chetverukhin in the singles competition, where USSR wasn’t as strong.
In essence, we were sold down the river, though it was looked rather legit. Coaches got together before the Olympics, and… Nobody supported our candidacy! Rodnina and Ulanov won the games, though it should have been Luda Smirnova and Andrusha Suraikin, whose free program we created. They were clean, whereas Ulanov didn’t do a required element, didn’t do a double jump, which was considered a big mistake. Nevertheless, the judges ignored this. It wouldn’t be possible today… Back then, nobody cared about rules. In 1970 USSR Nationals in Kiev, we led after the first day, whereas Rodnina and Ulanov were eighth. Ultimately, they won, and we were left with fourth place. Is that possible with fair judging? We’d have to crawl on our bellies to fall so low!
L.B.: We should have understood everything then, but we didn’t get totally disillusioned until nine years later.
O.P.: We couldn’t even work in the Leningrad Ballet on Ice! They’d have all those union, komsomol, and party conferences, they’d also teach us, correct us, blame us…
Where you in KPSS? KPSS – communist party
O.P.: We tried to join to have some protection. We waited for three years, but we weren’t accepted. They said that the party is for workers and peasants, and that there were more worthy candidates. Sure, it was calculated on our part. But what was left to do? I had turned 47, they could send me into retirement at any moment, as they did with Volodya Vasiliev. They kicked him out of Bolshoi theater, and didn’t even blush. They’d do the same to us.
L.B.: We wrote petitions, we got recommendations from Tamara Moskvina, and from the Peter Sports Palace “Yubileyny” director Sergei Tolstikhin, but nothing helped.
O.P.: Our names weren’t even highlighted on the posters, they were just listed alphabetically with the chorus – Luda toward the beginning, me – toward the end. I’d ask – why? They said the country had a shortage of paper, and nothing was going to be printed just for us. They said to our faces “Nobody needs you here”. Of course, when the ballet was going to France, the two time Olympic champions were listed in large font in the very middle of the poster. Somehow, they managed to find the paper then. However, we refused to go. On principle. The directors were really shocked, but they didn’t change the posters, essentially lying to the French…
Here is another example. In 1977, we were invited to the Madison Square Garden show, and were paid ten thousand dollars for it.
Great!
O.P.: Yes. Americans gave us cash, we brought it to Moscow and gave it to the official GosConcert. In return, we got 53 dollars and 25 cents. In accordance to the established artistic salary in USSR. I was especially touched by how official they made it all sound.
L.B.: In Brazil, they were going to pay us ten dollars a performance! They were planning three-month tour of the Leningrad ballet on ice around the country, and asked us to skate on the ice of 14 by 28 meters. How can one skate like that?
O.P.: Now, though, you’ve had two TV shows – “Stars on Ice”, and, I think, “Dances on Ice”. Everything there happened on tank ice. It’s a portable rink, easy to transport from place to place, it can be installed anywhere. It’s good for organizers, and not so good for athletes. Yes, Paganini played on one string, but how can you perform a Rachmaninoff piano concert if the instrument is missing half the keys? We half long refused to skate on those shortened rinks, no matter what money is promised. A professional must half self respect, not lower the bar. By the way, we were invited to the channel “Russia” project. Lena Tchaikovskaya called us. I first asked about the rink size. When I heard it was fourteen by twenty seven, I said “See yeah!”. We got away from that in 79, and don’t want to go back. I swore to myself that I’ll never skate on tank ice again.
What that after you dropped Lyudmila Evgenievna in Chelyabinsk?
O.P.: The most amazing thing was that the ice there was very good, and we enjoyed skating there. However, you can’t cheat the laws of aerodynamics – the rink was small, we just didn’t have enough space. I gained speed as I’m used to, and just didn’t have anywhere to go. I fell on my side. Luda flew into the ramp, hitting her shoulder, knee, and head. It took her two months to recover. Then I said, “Enough!” Ice doesn’t tolerate jokes. It also doesn’t stand for lack for respect. Recently in Colorado Springs, a Canadian pair was skating, the national champions actually. They were doing a parallel spin, made a mistake, and the guy sliced the girl’s face with his skate – her nose and cheek. It’s lucky the eyes were OK. You saw my skate blades, right? It’s like a knife.
L.B.: I don’t think anyone could say we don’t respect our trade.
O.P.: Essentially, we left USSR to avoid breaking pennies.
[size=+1]ABOUT LEAVING [/size]
What did you take with you? I guess you packed as for a space trip, thinking of each ounce.
L.B.: I took my sawing machine. Ordering exhibition costumes was very expensive. Here, I also made costumes for myself and Oleg, sometimes my sister and a neighbor seamstress helped, but there – I did not expect any help.
O.P.: I took art books and videotapes. They weight was way above the limit, but luckily they didn’t examine our luggage too carefully at the airport, so we just paid for the extra weight and checked it in. A distant relative took as to “Sheremetyevo” [airport], and he didn’t know anything about our plans. Then again, nobody guessed anything. Not even my mom or Luda’s sister. If it slipped out, everything could have been lost. I called my mom when I got to Switzerland. She only said one thing, “Avoid coming here for as long as you can.”
When we registered for the flight to Zurich, a group of people who were flying somewhere came over. They wanted an autograph. I signed, and asked “Anyone else? Could be the last time…”
L.B.: Then there was this situation. We were ready to go to the plane, but the bus was stalling. The order just didn’t come down, it lasted about forty minutes. Then we saw that they couldn’t get Oleg’s heavy suitcase into the plane. You can imagine how we felt…
O.P.: After everything, we took flight. I whispered to Lyudmila, “This is not the end. We’re on Soviet territory. Those people are capable of anything”. In fact, we landed in Zurich, a trap door opened, and a guy comes up. “Comrade Protopopov? You have to call the embassy immediately.” I ask, “What happened?” “You must declare your whereabouts”.
Did you do it, Oleg Alekseyevich?
O.P.: yes, I got in touch with them. First, though, I called my relatives and told them where to find my instructions on what to do immediately. I understood that immediately following the defection our apartment in Peter will be sealed, and wanted the loved keep the valuables from there.
Did it work?
O.P.: I knew my country too well. Somebody else was moved into the flat tout-de-suite; the garage next to the dump was given to the famous director Evgeny Mravinski.
They call it “expropriation”. After you left, you didn’t talk to Soviet people a long time?
O.P.: We regularly attended World and European championships, but we were avoided as if we had leprosy, nobody looked into the eyes, gazes were averted. Everybody avoided us, you could name anyone.
One time I shared an elevator with Lena Tchaikovskaya. She studied the walls as if she were all alone. Then in Leningrad she said about us “Fans mistook for a sun a light bulb hanging on a rope”. In Dortmund, I once ran into Moskvin in the ice palace bathroom. We stood at the adjoining urinals. Igor Borisovich asked me quietly, “Oleg, how are things?” I opened my mouth to answer, but then the door squeaked, and Moskvin immediately looked another way. Only Stasik Zhuk kept talking to us. I think it was in 1985 in Copenhagen that he made a show of coming up to my, giving me a hug, shaking my hand, and asking me about things. Next to him were standing Rodnina, Moskvina, Sinilkina, the “Luzhniki” director. I asked, “You’re not afraid of getting into trouble, that they won’t let you travel?” Zhuk turned around and just said, “Let them all go to hell!” He said it all loud. He didn’t hear well, so he was often loud. I guess later on in Moscow they explained the party politics to him, because a year later Stasik no longer made any noise. He came up to me discreetly and whispered, “Olezhka, those ****s won’t let us talk. Please call me at the hotel later on”.
L.B.: In Geterborgue in 1981 we were sitting at the stands, and Maya Plisetskaya called us over. We exchanged a couple of sentences, and immediately a TV commentator George Sarkisjantz dragged her off “Maya Mikhailovna, we need an interview”. Plisetskaya barely had time to right down our phone number. Later that night, she talked for two hours about how she was being suffocated, how Rodion couldn’t work…
O.P.: Remember the borsht that Galya Vishnevskaya fed us in Paris?
L.B.: Then we also have to mention the meatloaf with buckwheat kasha from Vasili Aksenov. Delicious! That was in America in 1980.
Brotherhood of emigrants, right?
O.P.: Those who lived in the Union acted different.
L.B.: Envy is not a national trait. Unfortunately, it’s common to many people, regardless of where they live.
O.P.: Nevertheless, the Soviet system didn’t stand those who stood out. Everyone was supposed to march to the same tune. We didn’t want to. That created a huge annoyance. It came to me suggesting that they didn’t announce us in the Leningrad Ballet programs. Music would start, light would come on, we would make the first move, and… the audiences would erupt in ovations. People did not need words, they wait for us, they demanded up to six encores, and that all angered the leadership – “Don’t make the show into a solo concert!” When we left the country, they immediately pretended like Belousova and Protopopov didn’t exist, they tried to strike our names from figure skating history. Luckily, that proved too much for them.
[size=+1]ABOUT PLANS [/size]
Ever thought of writing an autobiography?
L.B.: I have some notes I made at the time, about six hundred pages worth. I didn’t publish it then, I don’t know if I should now. Time makes everything appear different.
Did you forgive old hurts?
O.P.: There is a Russian proverb “Whoever recalls the old should lose an eye. Whoever forgets – two eyes”. We have no intention of getting even decades later, but we remember everything. Given the opportunity, we will shake anyone’s hand except for Irina Rodnina. She accused us of god knows what, and never apologized. She was used to everyone playing by her rules, and we wouldn’t. That caused the conflict.
L.B.: No, we don’t hold a grudge. It would be silly to have anything against a country and the people who didn’t do us anything bad, but on the opposite are giving us so much love. Let’s take Ilya Averbukh, representative of a new generation. Last time we skated together was in 2002 in Boston, and Ilusha said, “I swear I’ll get you to Russia!” He called us about ten days before the Tarasova event. It was totally unexpected. We hardly trained this year, and didn’t skate before an audience for over three months, the last time was at the “Evening with Champions” in Boston in early October. It’s a huge interruption, we were worried coming to Russia, but of course we couldn’t refuse. We didn’t perform in Moscow since June 24, 1979.
O.P.: We plan to live to 280.
Between two of you?
L.B.: No, for each one. And we’ll continue to skate. This July I will by 75, December 6th is our golden anniversary. They’ve invited us to celebrate it in Peter.
On the ice?
O.P.: Of course. If it all works as planned, it will be beautiful
We will see you again soon, then?
L.B.: You will!
[size=-1]February 19*, 2007, №025-M (17 161)[/size]
[size=+2]Figure Skating. Lyudmila Belousova and Oleg Protopopov: We plan to live to 280. 2-time Olympic pair skating champions recall the most dramatic events of their uniquely long and brilliant career.[/size]
[size=-1]”Soviet Sport” correspondent Andrei Vandenko[/size]
It happened February 13th, during the celebration of Tatiana Tarasova’s 60th birthday. After twenty-eight years, Olympic champions of Innsbruck and Grenoble, the famous Lyudmila Belousova and Oleg Protopopov once again took the ice in Moscow. The overflowing 14-thousand seat Ice palace at Khodynski Field stood up to great the sport’s legends. Having skated their program to the audience’s applause, the mature but not yet old stars flew back to Switzerland, where Grindelwald has been their home for the past decades. They flew back, but promised to return.
[size=+1]ABOUT YASHA DOBKIN’S BOOTS[/size]
Oleg Alekseyevich, I’m looking at your boots …
Oleg Protopopov: Yes, you could say it’s a museum piece. It even has a stamp “Made in USSR”.
How come?
O.P.: I’ve been skating in them for almost thirty years, since 1978. It’s the handiwork of Yasha Dobkin. He was a great cobbler, a true master. He worked in an experimental shoe factory in Moscow, and always made boots for Luda and me.
Lyudmila Belousova: Unfortunately, mine didn’t make it to today, they fell apart ten years ago, but I ordered the exact copies of the ones Yakov Samuilovich made for me. They aren’t as good – they rougher, not as smooth, but what else can I do.
O.P.: Mine are still in working order. I just have to change blades from time to time. A famous company John Wilson presents us with a pair each year. It’s not a cheap gift. Good skates are expensive.
How much?
L.B.: The ones like ours – 500 to 700 dollars.
O.P.: A pair usually lasts three seasons, but the main thing is to preserve the boots. Leather got worn a bit inside, so I made special flexible soles, and continue to wear them. They don’t make boots like that for skaters anymore. First of all, leather is different, it’s prepared differently and breaks with time. Secondly, and more importantly, the base has changed; what they make now is more like Dutch or Chinese wooden shoes – the construction is stiff and not flexible. The can hardly move in them. Note how ice dancers cut the backs off the shoes – otherwise, they can’t point their toes. Yasha Dobkin made the shoes so perfect, it didn’t press, didn’t create calluses… he was a true professional!
[size=+1]ABOUT THE LOST LUGGAGE[/size]
Oleg Alekseyevich, so you went AWOL in those boots, and you returned in them as well.
O.P.: Yes, going AWOL in my expression. That’s how I talked about my defection from USSR. Honestly, I never thought the empire would one day fall; we didn’t plan to come back, we thought it was a one way road, without a way back. When we left, we said our farewells, we took with use everything we valued most, things we couldn’t live without. Since we planned to skate, to continue the skating career that was so roughly interrupted here, we were mainly concerned with our athletic equipment.
L.B.: We’re lucky that nothing got lost, not then, not later on.
O.P.: It happened one time. Remember the luggage with concert costumes disappearing?
L.B.: Yes, but that happened before our emigration. It was after the 1965 World championships in Colorado Springs.
O.P.: That was when we won the first ever pair skating “gold” in Soviet sports history.
L.B.: A year earlier, we won the Olympics in Innsbruck.
O.P.: Yes, but the big world tour took place after Colorado Springs.
L.B.: We first toured the United States, and then flew to Canada.
O.P.: When we went to collect our luggage in Montreal, one of our two bags was missing.
With the skates?
L.B.: They didn’t have such strict rules back then, so we had the skates with us. However, the lost bag had the miniature gold skates with diamonds that got for Worlds win, the champion medals, and, most importantly, the costumes! We searched, but there was nothing. We had to perform that night. What do we do?! The organizers looked around, and finally got me a twelve-year-old girl dress – it was short, with a waistline around the armpits.
O.P.: A German singles skater Sepp Schönmetzlerlent me his costume. A great guy! He’s now publishing a sports magazine in Germany. In a word, Sepp helped me out, but he’s a bit shorter than I, the hem of the pants didn’t reach the ankles, the sleeves on the hacked didn’t cover the wrists – laughter and tears, really!
L.B.: That’s how we skated to “Dreams of Love”. I – in a schoolgirl dress, Oleg – in somebody else’s ill-fitting suit.
O.P.: How we looked…
Did you find the bag eventually?
L.B.: No, we flew back to Europe with nothing!
[size=+1]ABOUT FEES[/size]
O.P.: In Germany, they offered to make us new costumes. We were happy. We were so naïve, we didn’t understand we were creating advertisement for the company. Later on, the Germans were telling everyone they were making the clothing for the Soviet Union champions. In theory, we could have refused to take part in exhibition tour, especially since we had a reason. Yet the USSR Sports Committee we strict about it, didn’t let anyone sneak out of it, which is of course understandable – show organizes paid incredible money for that time – two and a half thousand bucks each time we took the ice!
Did you get the money?
O.P.: Yeah, right. We got a whole lot of nothing.
L.B.: To be exact, we got fifty Swiss franks. No, no, twenty five. Pennies, really.
Clearly that’s not enough for new costumes, perhaps even for new shoelaces.
L.B.: Luckily, the bag was ultimately found, it was brought to our hotel
O.P.: When I saw it, my first thought was – are the medals there? I opened the locks – there they were. Bit relief.
L.B.: You want to know why the bag got lost in Montreal? They had Ukrainian immigrants work as loaders in that airport. They saw Russian names, the country listed as USSR, and they just put the bag aside.
O.P.: They knew whose bag it was, they wanted to destroy the performance. Anti-Soviet feelings were very strong in Ukrainian Diaspora.
[size=+1]ABOUT PERESTROIKA[/size]
Real guerillas, what are you going to do? Soon enough, though, you were considered enemies of the people as well
O.P.: Yes, our homeland forgot we existed. We settled in Switzerland in 1979, and we didn’t see the first Moscow journalist in Grindelwald until 1989.
L.B.: Here in Russia Perestroika was in full swing, we were already cleared, we were no longer put down everywhere, but the conversation was still very bizarre and biased.
O.P.: A journalist was a young girl, and some of her questions were real slaps-in-the-face, I was quite amazed. Then again, what’s surprising about it? Soviet propaganda knew how to brainwash. The country lived in a bubble, we could feel it even living in the prosperous Europe. All the calls to USSR were listened to, letters would disappear. I would dial my mom’s number, and know it’s all being monitored.
L.B.: We signed the letters with fake names, and sent them through friends in Hungary or Germany. We used Aesopian language, never mentioned competitions or performances, only talked about lectures. It was a sort of hind-and-seek with the System. One channel would close up, and we would look for another.
O.P.: Though mom never thought necessary to hide anything, she’s say it like it is. I remember one time, she asked me on the phone, “Why do they call Brezhnev ‘mister’? He’s the head of a workers-and-peasants country, that’s how he should be addressed”. The connection broke off immediately, literally while she was talking. However, KGB wasn’t the only one listening in, I also saved the tapes with our conversations. Perhaps those recordings aren’t of much value to others, but for me, it’s my history, a part of my life. Mom died in 1992, I never saw her again, I only got do bow down to her grave in 2003, when I first came here following a 24-year absence.
L.B.: At least, my sister was allowed to visit us beginning in late 80’s. We still couldn’t go to Soviet Union, even after the rehabilitation.
Why?
L.B.: We didn’t officially have Swiss citizenship then. We only got it in 1995. As residents, we could travel anywhere in the world except for Eastern Europe. If we went to USSR, we couldn’t go back. We waited for Swiss passport for sixteen years.
There were no exceptions made for you?
L.B.: Absolutely not. Of course, we could have moved to another country where it would have been quicker, but we chose not to do that. First, we received the so-called cart “A”, then cart “B”, and finally the “C”.
O.P.: As opposed to other countries, in Switzerland it’s not the president or the government that grants citizenship. It’s the actual residents of where you live. Luda and I have lived in the mountain village of Grindelwald with a population of 3800 people for 28 years. They were the ones who voted. Not everyone, of course, just those who came.
How many votes did you get?
O.P.: Three hundred and fifty “for”, and not one “against”. The local verdict then had to be approved on the canton and federal levels. That, however, was just a formality.
Was it worth it to wait that long?
O.P.: We didn’t wait, we lived.
[size=+1]ABOUT Grindelwald [/size]
I’ve been to y our Grindelwald a couple of times. Sorry, but it’s a real backwater!
L.B.: You probably came during Summer or Fall, in the low season. In the Winter, it’s one of the trendiest skiing resorts in the world. American and Japanese tourists come in droves. We don’t spend that much time there, though, we tour about half the year.
Did you buy a home?
O.P.: We still don’t own anything in Grindelwald. We continue to rent. It’s easier that way. Otherwise, we’d have to pay for the land, and all that. Why bother?
L.B.: If we were young, if we lived in a large family with children, it would have been different, but in our case.
You said one time that you didn’t have children because you knew they would have been the regime’s hostages
L.B.: That’s true. We saw how Victor Korchnoi suffered. He left, but Bella and their son remained in USSR. Vitya was essentially blackmailed, they told him if he defeated Karpov, he could forget his family. We’ve heard about it a bit. In Switzerland, Bella had the same lawyer as we did. Soviet regime did not forgive those who tried to swim against the current. That’s why when asked about nostalgia I always said that at least, if we really miss the languages, we can always turn on the TV. We put the “dish” that receives Russian channels a long time ago.
[size=+1]ABOUT REASONS TO LEAVE [/size]
Are you saying you never regretted leaving the Union behind?
O.P.: There were at one point rumors about us trying to go back, but that’s a lie. Yes, I was born in Leningrad, and never wanted to leave it. One time I even told Ekaterina Furtseva, the culture minister who wanted Luda and me to move to Moscow, that I wanted to die in my native city. However, things changed. At one point, we felt like we were in prison. Immigration was the only way to get out. Believe us, the decision wasn’t easy. We were forced to make it. Just as we were previously chased out of elite sport.
It’s all history, I guess few now remember that were preparing for the 72 Olympics in Sapporo. Rodnina/ Ulanov were the favorites, our students Smirnova/ Suraikin were seconds, but we had every reason to expect the third place. At least. I remember how I tried to convice Sergei Pavlov, the country’s main athlete, “We have a chance to take the whole Olympic podium! We can’t lose such an opportunity!” What a naïve cretin I was! Nobody took us anywhere. The pair skating “bronze” was already promised to the GDR team; in return, the Germans promised to support Sergei Chetverukhin in the singles competition, where USSR wasn’t as strong.
In essence, we were sold down the river, though it was looked rather legit. Coaches got together before the Olympics, and… Nobody supported our candidacy! Rodnina and Ulanov won the games, though it should have been Luda Smirnova and Andrusha Suraikin, whose free program we created. They were clean, whereas Ulanov didn’t do a required element, didn’t do a double jump, which was considered a big mistake. Nevertheless, the judges ignored this. It wouldn’t be possible today… Back then, nobody cared about rules. In 1970 USSR Nationals in Kiev, we led after the first day, whereas Rodnina and Ulanov were eighth. Ultimately, they won, and we were left with fourth place. Is that possible with fair judging? We’d have to crawl on our bellies to fall so low!
L.B.: We should have understood everything then, but we didn’t get totally disillusioned until nine years later.
O.P.: We couldn’t even work in the Leningrad Ballet on Ice! They’d have all those union, komsomol, and party conferences, they’d also teach us, correct us, blame us…
Where you in KPSS? KPSS – communist party
O.P.: We tried to join to have some protection. We waited for three years, but we weren’t accepted. They said that the party is for workers and peasants, and that there were more worthy candidates. Sure, it was calculated on our part. But what was left to do? I had turned 47, they could send me into retirement at any moment, as they did with Volodya Vasiliev. They kicked him out of Bolshoi theater, and didn’t even blush. They’d do the same to us.
L.B.: We wrote petitions, we got recommendations from Tamara Moskvina, and from the Peter Sports Palace “Yubileyny” director Sergei Tolstikhin, but nothing helped.
O.P.: Our names weren’t even highlighted on the posters, they were just listed alphabetically with the chorus – Luda toward the beginning, me – toward the end. I’d ask – why? They said the country had a shortage of paper, and nothing was going to be printed just for us. They said to our faces “Nobody needs you here”. Of course, when the ballet was going to France, the two time Olympic champions were listed in large font in the very middle of the poster. Somehow, they managed to find the paper then. However, we refused to go. On principle. The directors were really shocked, but they didn’t change the posters, essentially lying to the French…
Here is another example. In 1977, we were invited to the Madison Square Garden show, and were paid ten thousand dollars for it.
Great!
O.P.: Yes. Americans gave us cash, we brought it to Moscow and gave it to the official GosConcert. In return, we got 53 dollars and 25 cents. In accordance to the established artistic salary in USSR. I was especially touched by how official they made it all sound.
L.B.: In Brazil, they were going to pay us ten dollars a performance! They were planning three-month tour of the Leningrad ballet on ice around the country, and asked us to skate on the ice of 14 by 28 meters. How can one skate like that?
O.P.: Now, though, you’ve had two TV shows – “Stars on Ice”, and, I think, “Dances on Ice”. Everything there happened on tank ice. It’s a portable rink, easy to transport from place to place, it can be installed anywhere. It’s good for organizers, and not so good for athletes. Yes, Paganini played on one string, but how can you perform a Rachmaninoff piano concert if the instrument is missing half the keys? We half long refused to skate on those shortened rinks, no matter what money is promised. A professional must half self respect, not lower the bar. By the way, we were invited to the channel “Russia” project. Lena Tchaikovskaya called us. I first asked about the rink size. When I heard it was fourteen by twenty seven, I said “See yeah!”. We got away from that in 79, and don’t want to go back. I swore to myself that I’ll never skate on tank ice again.
What that after you dropped Lyudmila Evgenievna in Chelyabinsk?
O.P.: The most amazing thing was that the ice there was very good, and we enjoyed skating there. However, you can’t cheat the laws of aerodynamics – the rink was small, we just didn’t have enough space. I gained speed as I’m used to, and just didn’t have anywhere to go. I fell on my side. Luda flew into the ramp, hitting her shoulder, knee, and head. It took her two months to recover. Then I said, “Enough!” Ice doesn’t tolerate jokes. It also doesn’t stand for lack for respect. Recently in Colorado Springs, a Canadian pair was skating, the national champions actually. They were doing a parallel spin, made a mistake, and the guy sliced the girl’s face with his skate – her nose and cheek. It’s lucky the eyes were OK. You saw my skate blades, right? It’s like a knife.
L.B.: I don’t think anyone could say we don’t respect our trade.
O.P.: Essentially, we left USSR to avoid breaking pennies.
[size=+1]ABOUT LEAVING [/size]
What did you take with you? I guess you packed as for a space trip, thinking of each ounce.
L.B.: I took my sawing machine. Ordering exhibition costumes was very expensive. Here, I also made costumes for myself and Oleg, sometimes my sister and a neighbor seamstress helped, but there – I did not expect any help.
O.P.: I took art books and videotapes. They weight was way above the limit, but luckily they didn’t examine our luggage too carefully at the airport, so we just paid for the extra weight and checked it in. A distant relative took as to “Sheremetyevo” [airport], and he didn’t know anything about our plans. Then again, nobody guessed anything. Not even my mom or Luda’s sister. If it slipped out, everything could have been lost. I called my mom when I got to Switzerland. She only said one thing, “Avoid coming here for as long as you can.”
When we registered for the flight to Zurich, a group of people who were flying somewhere came over. They wanted an autograph. I signed, and asked “Anyone else? Could be the last time…”
L.B.: Then there was this situation. We were ready to go to the plane, but the bus was stalling. The order just didn’t come down, it lasted about forty minutes. Then we saw that they couldn’t get Oleg’s heavy suitcase into the plane. You can imagine how we felt…
O.P.: After everything, we took flight. I whispered to Lyudmila, “This is not the end. We’re on Soviet territory. Those people are capable of anything”. In fact, we landed in Zurich, a trap door opened, and a guy comes up. “Comrade Protopopov? You have to call the embassy immediately.” I ask, “What happened?” “You must declare your whereabouts”.
Did you do it, Oleg Alekseyevich?
O.P.: yes, I got in touch with them. First, though, I called my relatives and told them where to find my instructions on what to do immediately. I understood that immediately following the defection our apartment in Peter will be sealed, and wanted the loved keep the valuables from there.
Did it work?
O.P.: I knew my country too well. Somebody else was moved into the flat tout-de-suite; the garage next to the dump was given to the famous director Evgeny Mravinski.
They call it “expropriation”. After you left, you didn’t talk to Soviet people a long time?
O.P.: We regularly attended World and European championships, but we were avoided as if we had leprosy, nobody looked into the eyes, gazes were averted. Everybody avoided us, you could name anyone.
One time I shared an elevator with Lena Tchaikovskaya. She studied the walls as if she were all alone. Then in Leningrad she said about us “Fans mistook for a sun a light bulb hanging on a rope”. In Dortmund, I once ran into Moskvin in the ice palace bathroom. We stood at the adjoining urinals. Igor Borisovich asked me quietly, “Oleg, how are things?” I opened my mouth to answer, but then the door squeaked, and Moskvin immediately looked another way. Only Stasik Zhuk kept talking to us. I think it was in 1985 in Copenhagen that he made a show of coming up to my, giving me a hug, shaking my hand, and asking me about things. Next to him were standing Rodnina, Moskvina, Sinilkina, the “Luzhniki” director. I asked, “You’re not afraid of getting into trouble, that they won’t let you travel?” Zhuk turned around and just said, “Let them all go to hell!” He said it all loud. He didn’t hear well, so he was often loud. I guess later on in Moscow they explained the party politics to him, because a year later Stasik no longer made any noise. He came up to me discreetly and whispered, “Olezhka, those ****s won’t let us talk. Please call me at the hotel later on”.
L.B.: In Geterborgue in 1981 we were sitting at the stands, and Maya Plisetskaya called us over. We exchanged a couple of sentences, and immediately a TV commentator George Sarkisjantz dragged her off “Maya Mikhailovna, we need an interview”. Plisetskaya barely had time to right down our phone number. Later that night, she talked for two hours about how she was being suffocated, how Rodion couldn’t work…
O.P.: Remember the borsht that Galya Vishnevskaya fed us in Paris?
L.B.: Then we also have to mention the meatloaf with buckwheat kasha from Vasili Aksenov. Delicious! That was in America in 1980.
Brotherhood of emigrants, right?
O.P.: Those who lived in the Union acted different.
L.B.: Envy is not a national trait. Unfortunately, it’s common to many people, regardless of where they live.
O.P.: Nevertheless, the Soviet system didn’t stand those who stood out. Everyone was supposed to march to the same tune. We didn’t want to. That created a huge annoyance. It came to me suggesting that they didn’t announce us in the Leningrad Ballet programs. Music would start, light would come on, we would make the first move, and… the audiences would erupt in ovations. People did not need words, they wait for us, they demanded up to six encores, and that all angered the leadership – “Don’t make the show into a solo concert!” When we left the country, they immediately pretended like Belousova and Protopopov didn’t exist, they tried to strike our names from figure skating history. Luckily, that proved too much for them.
[size=+1]ABOUT PLANS [/size]
Ever thought of writing an autobiography?
L.B.: I have some notes I made at the time, about six hundred pages worth. I didn’t publish it then, I don’t know if I should now. Time makes everything appear different.
Did you forgive old hurts?
O.P.: There is a Russian proverb “Whoever recalls the old should lose an eye. Whoever forgets – two eyes”. We have no intention of getting even decades later, but we remember everything. Given the opportunity, we will shake anyone’s hand except for Irina Rodnina. She accused us of god knows what, and never apologized. She was used to everyone playing by her rules, and we wouldn’t. That caused the conflict.
L.B.: No, we don’t hold a grudge. It would be silly to have anything against a country and the people who didn’t do us anything bad, but on the opposite are giving us so much love. Let’s take Ilya Averbukh, representative of a new generation. Last time we skated together was in 2002 in Boston, and Ilusha said, “I swear I’ll get you to Russia!” He called us about ten days before the Tarasova event. It was totally unexpected. We hardly trained this year, and didn’t skate before an audience for over three months, the last time was at the “Evening with Champions” in Boston in early October. It’s a huge interruption, we were worried coming to Russia, but of course we couldn’t refuse. We didn’t perform in Moscow since June 24, 1979.
O.P.: We plan to live to 280.
Between two of you?
L.B.: No, for each one. And we’ll continue to skate. This July I will by 75, December 6th is our golden anniversary. They’ve invited us to celebrate it in Peter.
On the ice?
O.P.: Of course. If it all works as planned, it will be beautiful
We will see you again soon, then?
L.B.: You will!
