Five Israelis were registered at the Congress, notwithstanding the usual harassment (last minute visas, Israeli flag not displayed until protested). However, two of them were not actually Israelis, but American scientists who had been working in Israel at the Weizmann Institute when they had applied, and had been considered as Israelis. I knew one of these people very well, but the other I had not met. Quite naturally he was at the "rump session". I arranged to return that evening to Levich's apartment for a social gathering, bringing Shneior Lifson and several others. For some reason I had to leave the session earlier than most and with another American couple took a taxi. As we were leaving this second "Israeli American" (let's call him IA) accompanied us and asked to share our taxi to the hotel. The couple asked if they too could go to Levich's apartment and since Levich's daughter-in-law was right there we asked her. She said fine and at that moment we got into the taxi. Once in the taxi IA exploded in a veritable avalanche of questions; "could I come to Levich's" "who are you?", "how do you know Levich?" and so on. Natural curiosity?
Perhaps, but my friends in London had warned me to beware of any person who was unusually curious about my activities. While I could not refuse to take him to Levich, I did feel reluctant at introducing someone I knew not at all, and who seemed rather strange. Apart from his demeanor, he had not an American, but rather a German accent, and was a post-doctoral student in West Germany! After we got out of the taxi my friend said "he was obviously pumping you about things you were reluctant to tell him, but he wouldn't give up". So my next problem was how to avoid taking this unknown quantity into Levich's apartment.
We were due to meet for dinner at the Rossiya Hotel and then leave thereafter for Leninsky Prospekt. Fortunately, this arrangement floundered on the incompetence of the Soviet system. Not only was it impossible to choose one's own table, people were seated as they arrived with others already present, but in general it took two hours to have a meal, with most of the time spent waiting for service as well as for food. Nothing in our experience could compare to the poor service in one of the best restaurants at one of the best hotels in Russia. As I was finally leaving someone ran down the length of the restaurant - (you guessed) it was IA, and wanted to make sure we would not leave without him.. I assured him we would be back at the appointed time outside the entrance to the restaurant and we made our getaway. I had decided not to return for him - when as we were walking through the lobby of the hotel we saw Benjamin and Tanya Levich hurrying in. Apparently they had been invited to meet with Professor Kendrew, Nobel laureate and (retiring) President of the International Union of Pure and Applied Biophysics, in his hotel room - a tangible result of the letter and our meeting the previous day. So my problem was solved. How could I have returned to meet IA to take him to Levich when Levich was here. We waited for the Levichs, and with several others returned with them to their apartment. I believe the meeting with Kendrew helped, because Yevgeny Levich was left unmolested for several months thereafter.
At the Levich apartment we had a pleasant social gathering, meeting with several other would-be immigrants. During the evening Levich inquired after the letter he had handed to Edsall, and Lifson, who was also on the Council, said it had been discussed by the Western members. But, the majority, not wanting to embarrass the Soviet organizing committee, had agreed that it should be raised by the new President of the IUPAC, Fyodor Lynen of W. Germany (also a Nobel laureate) with his Soviet opposite number in the morning. Levich felt this was a serious error, since nothing would be accomplished by this private representation, and further according to well-established procedures, the Soviet organizer would ask for the letter and that was the last that would be seen or heard of it. After a discussion, Lifson suggested that he write an explanatory note and that I leave immediately (it was already 11 p.m.) and deliver it to Lynen. The note would request that Lynen return the letter to me, but he should discuss its contents with the Soviet organizer. Not wanting to carry out this difficult task alone I persuaded Bob to accompany me, and at about midnight we found ourselves knocking on the hotel door of this eminent, but very pleasant and unassuming man. Fortunately, he was not asleep, and with no more than a few words of explanation, he handed the letter back to me.
The next morning who should appear behind me as I entered the bus to the University, but IA. I mumbled my excuse, and there followed what could be described as a tete-a-tete, covering all those intimate details such as philosophy of life, marriage, etc. It was now a question of who was pumping whom. I never saw him after that.
Around the Soviet Union over 100,000 Jews had applied to emigrate to Israel. Among these were several families who had experienced great personal tragedy. And one of the foremost among these was the surviving family of Peretz Markish, who had been one of the leading Jewish writers in the Soviet Union. His loyalty to the Soviet regime during the difficult days of World War II could not be questioned, since he was (allowed to be) one of the organizers of the Jewish Anti-Fascist League. However, being both an intellectual and a Jew were dangerous in themselves after 1945, and Markish was arrested and with 23 other leading Soviet Jewish intellectuals was executed on August 25th 1952 in the cellar of the Lyubyanka Prison in Moscow. Was it any wonder that his wife and son, Esther and David, were among the first of those who wished to leave the Soviet Union. On the 20th anniversary of the "night of the murdered poets" I was privileged to-visit the Markish apartment and talk with them and their friends. Many had gathered, and others came and went to mourn the loss of these leading Jewish thinkers - the flower of their generation. But how many died unknown.
The situation of the Markish's was complicated by the fact that David's wife Irina, in one of those sadistic quirks of the Soviet system, had been given permission to emigrate the day after their marriage. She had gone and was now trying to aid their release. Her activities included a dash onto the Center Court at Wimbledon, and now we were shown newspaper clippings of that event. Fortunately the combination of pressures proved too much for the Soviet apparatus and eventually they reluctantly let the Markish family go, deprived long since of its worthy head. [Esther Markish has since told her story in "The Long Return," Random House, 1978)].
At these gatherings, and elsewhere, I met further people, some whose names were known to me and others not. Some I asked specific questions, others, especially those newly applying, I asked for the commonplace details of their lives. I was gradually building up a file of information. This was considerably added to several days later when Levich gave me the listing of scientists in the Moscow area, all of whom had applied to emigrate. It was written in both English and Russian, but in capital letters, and described people in the third person (one cannot be too careful). It was also agreed that I should attempt to take out the letter written by Levich. In addition, Alexander Voronel had given me a package of reprints of his scientific papers to pass to an American colleague.
One strategy that my friends in London had suggested was to transfer some material to others who could be trusted and would be less suspect. I had my friend take photos of the papers with one copy for each of us. I kept the original of the Levich letter, and simply mixed it in with my voluminous notes - which I had partly brought along for the occasion. One of my favorite memories of Moscow is of the two of us in a sweltering bathroom, with tap running, and he taking photos of the papers on the toilet seat.
It was only during these last two days that we were obviously followed. We had been "tailed" by a police car after leaving Levich's apartment. And at Voronel's apartment, they had pointed out the black car with the men sitting in it in full view just up the block. As they said, on their own territory they have no need to hide. Also, I had been propositioned by women calling late at night in the hotel. The first night it had been 11 p.m., in Russian, the second at midnight in French - the third night at 2:30 a.m. a woman's voice in English said "shut your window". That was the only time that I was really scared. How the hell did they know my window was open. The windows stretched from floor to ceiling, and we were very high up. On an impulse I yanked the telephone cord out of the wall and placed the table in front of the window (it was much too hot to close it), but it was difficult to get to sleep after that. I believe that was the main motive behind these late calls, and to be sure you were where you were supposed to be. Some others had received similar calls and felt the warning to close the window might have been to protect us from the prevalent fumes of the forest fires, but I doubted that the Soviet authorities were that concerned about our health.
Two mornings before we were due to leave I was surprised to be followed down the corridor by a man no more than 50 feet behind me, all the way to my friend's room. Then just across from his room on the roof of a section of the building another man was looking straight at us (or so it seemed). My friend poked his head out of the door and sure enough someone was waiting there. We considered various maneuvers, and finally we went in opposite directions down the corridor. Apparently not wanting to be seen too closely the agent retreated. We met later, and were not aware of being followed, but probably were.
Apparently my new Soviet Jewish friends were interested in me too. They wondered why I was asking so many questions. They asked me to meet with them, and so with Victor Yachot I took a train ride to the outskirts of Moscow. There we were met by three others, and at the end of the line took a walk into the Ismailovsky Forest. In apparent seclusion a further question and answer period transpired. This time I felt I had to assuage their curiosity, and told them almost everything. Even though I had been sworn to secrecy I felt I had to mention the supposed underground Jewish group in London, which had prepared me so well, although my own credentials were good enough. Clearly it was my degree of detailed knowledge and questions which had made them curious. Of course, it had occurred to me that one of them was a "plant" or "agent provocateur", but since I felt they were all trustworthy, and I indeed knew no more than I had told them, there was little else that could transpire. We then made an arrangement for future meetings which could be used if all telephone contact was cut off (as indeed it would be in July 1974 during President Nixon's second visit). During our talk one of them would occasionally take a walk around to detect any listeners. Another strange image I have of this visit was the experience of sitting alone in the forest while the four of them discussed me in incomprehensible tones. But all seemed well, until on the way back we "lost" two of them, only to find they had walked ahead and entered the station by a different entrance. Such an inconsequential detail, except for the circumstances.
The night before I was due to leave I was asked to visit the Levich's apartment for a last time. In the street walking from the station to the apartment I was told something important had arisen. Apparently the Soviet authorities were instituting an education tax on all emigrants. Only two cases had been reported so far in the provinces but a friend (they still had some) had warned them that a secret decree of the Supreme Soviet had been passed instituting such a measure. Henceforth all technically qualified people would have to retroactively pay (grossly overpay) the Soviet Government for their supposedly free education. I was urged to tell this to everyone I could. Levich wrote introductory notes to Senators McGovern, Kennedy and Javits (Jackson was not then the leader he later so effectively became). My friends were extending their visits to other Soviet cities, but I was flying straight back to London from Moscow, and the following day on to the States.
So I left them, wondering how I was going to pass this message by myself to the world. But, that was not the end. We went out for a last walk around the city and suddenly on returning to the hotel we were surprised to find Levich and his daughter-in-law Janna waiting there for us. apparently their telephone had been cut off that very evening. They asked that I call another number in the morning since they feared for Yevgeny that night.
Contact with the Levichs has been maintained in one way or another. But that did not stop the authorities from snatching Yevgeny from the street in April 1973 and keeping him in Siberia, from where he was released on May 15th, 1974.
Leaving the Soviet Union is not easy for a tourist. You need three forms just to leave your hotel. The first is from the concierge (read KGB informer) who has to certify that your room is in order, namely that you haven't stolen anything from the workers' hotel. This is how the saga of the "Chainik" occurred.
In Soviet hotels there are buffets on several floors which are useful for snacks and small meals (especially considering how slow the restaurants are). In my room was a teapot, which after several days I realized one was supposed to take to the buffet and have filled with life-giving "chai" or tea. One morning I did this, but unfortunately forgot it when I left. It was impossible to converse with the ladies at the buffet using a phrase book when I returned that afternoon. I gave up. Waiting for my form on the morning of my departure - not realizing the nature of the formality - another lady had to be called to check the room - I was suddenly assailed by the word "chainik". Then I realized the problem. But these ladies wanted 10 rubles for a replacement and it was easy to converse with them using a phrase book. I wanted a receipt-"Nyet"; then I would not pay 10 rubles. O.K., then five rubles or no form. Never wanting to leave a place so badly I paid up. At least I know I was exploited by the workers rather than vice-versa, which gives me a nice little moral edge.
But that's not all. One then has to go to the reception, and with the first form claim a second form (all hotels are prepaid) which then one takes back to the concierge to obtain the release of one's bags. She then gives one a third form to use for transportation to the airport. Without that no one will take you. Then we were driven in separate cars to the airport - inefficient but better security.
I will not attempt to describe the chaos at the airport. But, the customs search was an interesting little experience. Perhaps I should have been more concerned since the letter from Professor Levich could have been considered a "provocation". But, I knew that what I was doing was right. So I got on a line, and when I reached the front an officer showed a piece of paper to the customs man and they gave me the treatment. While he was searching my suitcase under the watchful eyes of the officer, another man was brought in. He could only be described as an "apparatchnik". Dark blue suit, metal rimmed glasses, crew-cut hair, extremely serious; conformity to a caricature. He called in an interpreter and the five of us played games for an hour. The only relief I had was that it was all done in the open. The "apparatchnik" spent a long time looking through my papers. There were several files, and he could not be blamed - I hope he wasn't - for missing a few "state secrets". Several friends came over to see what was happening, which also gave me a kind of edge. So they didn't really give me a body search, although they investigated the contents of my pockets. Things only got really serious when they discovered the packet of reprints from Voronel. Since they were in Russian and they were scientific they aroused a great deal of interest. To no avail I explained (as was stated on each) that these were reprinted from Soviet scientific publications, which are available in the U.S.A. Most of them were confiscated, since I did not have the appropriate export form! Then came a difficult moment, I was asked to sign a form describing the material confiscated. Since this was all in Russian I refused. The apparatchnik said I would not be allowed to leave without signing. I asked for the interpreter to read each word to me and checked with my dictionary. The plane was due to leave in a few minutes, so I signed. I thought of Voronel, and his wife, and teenage son with diabetes, and the whole Soviet history of conspiracies. But, that is the way it was. To the best of my knowledge nothing happened to Voronel, and I sent back word of the fate of his reprints. They were probably checked over for pinholes.
Actually my experience was mild. Another friend, Harry Saroff, an older established scientist, who made the mistake of visiting Levich a few days later (by which time news of the letter may have reached the Soviets) and then going directly to the airport from there, was given the full treatment -- isolation room, told to undress to his underwear, interrogation, his toothpaste and medicines were emptied out and he was threatened. Harry is a tough character. Since he was totally innocent I think he rather enjoyed the experience. He was not the only one who exchanged words with the KGB, but my two substitutes had no trouble. One went through customs carrying a huge samovar for which he didn't have an export license either, but it was bought for hard cash, and wasn't potentially anti-Soviet.
