Title | What has become of the Russian Revolution |
Creator (LCNAF) |
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Contributor (Local) |
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Publisher | International Review |
Place of Creation (TGN) |
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Date | 1937 |
Subject.Topical (LCSH) |
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Subject.Topical (Local) |
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Subject.Geographic (TGN) |
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Genre (AAT) |
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Language | English |
Type (DCMI) |
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Original Item Extent | 63 pages; 22 cm |
Original Item Location | HN523.Y8613 1937 |
Original Item URL | http://library.uh.edu/record=b8304536~S11 |
Original Collection | Socialist and Communist Pamphlets |
Digital Collection | Socialist and Communist Pamphlets |
Digital Collection URL | http://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/scpamp |
Repository | Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries |
Repository URL | http://libraries.uh.edu/branches/special-collections |
Use and Reproduction | In Copyright: This item is protected by copyright. Copyright to this resource is held by the creator or current rights holder, and the resource is provided here for educational purposes. It may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without permission of the copyright owner. Users assume full responsibility for any infringement of copyright or related rights. |
File Name | index.cpd |
Title | Image 22 |
Format (IMT) |
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File Name | uhlib_2209396_021.jpg |
Transcript | It is a mistake to believe that the revolution has brought even relative equality in the distribution of luxury and misery. Even at the time of the vertical fall of the standard of living (1929-1932), the most insignificant provincial chief town in the USSR had its "Sovnarkom" restaurant, exclusively reserved to the local authorities. There, at dinner time, the prefect (the head of the local committee of the Party) and his adjutants, the directors of the big commercial, industrial and bank establishments, the heads of the soviet, trade-union and court administrations, as well as important official travelers, used to meet. The police, the G.P.U. and the army posts, each had its particular mess. In the course of these repasts—the only copious and edible meals during that period of dark misery—the good people spoke business and played the common Soviet game of "connections": "pull". The name "Sovnarkom" is very characteristic and tells a story in itself. It is the abbreviation of "Council of the Commissars of the People". There is no such council in a provincial town, but the name is used for such purposes as the one cited, emphasizing the power and right of privilege. The encouragement of the use of the word indicates that the example comes from above. This "restaurant" was very discreet. It was often installed in a small private hotel, access to which was permitted, by the armed guards, only to the holders of a special, precious pass. Today the need for such discretion is gone. Secrecy spoils the pleasure. Why trouble with discretion if the fact of privilege has become an integral part of the customs of the country? All restaurants are open to everybody. Still better—since the persons who have the money to pay for pleasure risk not knowing where to turn for it, the Soviet press, in January and February 1936, inaugurated a special department of announcements, the like of which had not been seen since the old regime. These announcements give the addresses and telephone numbers of de luxe stores and restaurants. The jazz offered in the fashionable joy dispensaries is praised highly, and all comers are invited to pass happy nights there. The dancing goes on till morning. Champagne, liqueurs, the most famous wines are listed on the fourth page of the newspaper. For the ladies there are rare perfumes at two hundred roubles a vial (Izviestia, February 4, 1936) ; for children, dolls at 95 roubles a piece {Izviestia, February 6, 1936). To forestall speculation in pianos, the State outlines a plan to develop rapidly the production of fine pianos. In the meantime, the common laborer tries to get along on about 100 roubles a month. The State that dares to style itself "socialist" goes a step farther in its efforts to beat capitalism. The finest restaurants, on the central streets of Moscow, inform the moneyed customer that they are ready to organize official and private banquets, for which they will furnish everything, even servants. All that the moneyed Soviet comrade needs to do to have happiness brought to his home is to lift his telephone receiver. The State lackeys serve him a Roman holiday in the complete privacy of his apartment or villa at the price of 200 or 300 roubles a head. But for the great mass of wage earners, nothing has changed fundamentally since 1934. The following prices are convincing: 20 |