#Yalta rest

[searuss8]

Сезонные водопады на карнизах Штангеевской тропы Ялта Крым 🍎

[sgiandubh]

Speed Bonnie Boat

The irony has not escaped me, that Baby and I finally made it back home on the 278th anniversary of the Battle of Culloden. Of course, nothing of this was planned - how could we? it's way above our heads, literally -, but didn't we laugh, Baby and me and Shipper Mom, finally content to have all the menagerie in one place, now cracking at its seams with unpacked boxes, tchotchkes, and irrelevant shite (why did I even pack this?).

You know this land is your land, when you finally start to see this, through the windshield: the glorious canola fields of the Deep South, near the Danube - my grandma's feisty, quick-witted and generous people's territory.

Uncharacteristically, I realized I came to Athens on a very unlikely Dubliner autumn and went back home on a very unlikely early summer April. Helps with the overall surreal impression:

All the roads leading to Rome, we can almost say "Hello, the house" in this pic. Smack dab downtown, where everything happens:

And then, the Jihad, between Lola the corgi and Baby the 'beige' (Greek passport says so) lab. This old lady is not really thrilled:

And for much of the rest of the tired, yawny human evening, the state of play was protracted war and a difficult Yalta negotiation of sorts:

Pasha ran in the shadows of the kitchen corridor. Nothing to report yet and unable to document properly: at night, all cats are black, says the Chinese proverb.

I have roughly two months to make this happen. For now, they can work with staying together in the same room and I think the one who's going to offer a truce is the Greek. With all this, I forgot to pour myself that Laphroaig. #Silly

'Carried the lad who's born to be king/Over the sea to Skye...'

PS: To all of you who offered their warmth and thoughts and even prayers, let it be known you are deeply loved by all of us. This land is also yours, my house is your house. No questions asked. We're good people. You will always find a spot for the outlander at a Romanian table and we like them long and boisterous. Mark me.

[loiladadiani]

"In St. Petersburg we work, but at Livadia, we live."

Grand Duchess Olga Alexandrovna

In 1909, Nikolay Krasnov, who was responsible for the Yousupoff Palace in Koreiz, was engaged to design a new imperial palace in Livadia (before that, there had been an imperial residence in Livadia consisting of a large and a small palace used by Alexander II and later by Alexander III, who died at the smaller residence.) When Nicholas II decided to build the new palace, he also demolished the older residence but left the small palace where his father died.

The Tsar's diary indicates that the Imperial Family discussed the design; it was decided that all four façades of the palace should look different. After 17 months of construction, the new palace was inaugurated on 11 September 1911. In November, Grand Duchess Olga Nikolaevna celebrated her 16th birthday at Livadia.

The family was always the happiest at Livadia.

One of the Tsar's "motors" at Livadia. If you look carefully, you can see the "side of the palace" where the car is parked and the main entrance in both the contemporary colored and black and white photos.

Above is the beautiful Italian Courtyard of the palace as it stands today. If you look at pictures taken when the Romanovs used the palace, the centerpiece of the courtyard was different. Today, there is a fountain at the center. Examining the older pictures (below), you can see that there seemed to be what I can only describe as a "well" at the center of the courtyard. There was a column on each side of the well. In one of the photos below, you can see Grand Duke Dmitry Pavlovich; he had his own rooms at the Livadia Palace.

Nicholas II and his family were so at ease at Livadia that they also conducted some minor official functions in addition to family activities. When the family went to Livadia, they usually went as far as Yalta by sea; it is easy to infer that the official activities they conducted were related to the crew of the Standart. In addition, at the time, it was believed that mountain air and rest could cure tuberculosis, and there were several spas and sanatoria in the mountains in the area. The Empress and the girls visited the sick there (they also participated in other charitable activities.)

The Yousupov family gifted the beautiful door above to Nicholas and Alexandra. The painting next to it is from a beautiful book by Kravnov ("Fiftieth Anniversary of Yalta"), who worked on the palace's design (and on that of the Crimean summer residences of several Grand Dukes.) The window is also featured in the painting.

The "solarium" seems to have been a very popular area. Nicholas and his children preferred the outdoors, and Livadia seemed to provide the Empress with the perfect environment to get sun and fresh air in comfort regardless of her many ailments.

This is the "Moorish" courtyard of the palace. It is small, but notice the exquisite tilework on the walls. And, of course, the little balcony between the windows seemed perfect to Alexis for him to "address" his family.

The palace had a chapel so that the Romanov family could worship in privacy.

A few of the interiors of the palace. The chandelier is Murano Glass (amazing that it survived all these years.) Olga's coming-of-age celebration took place in Livadia in the formal dining room in the photograph above, dancing spilling into the flower-perfumed courtyard. That is a luxury of the type you cannot buy! The girls' rooms are currently being restored. There are pictures of the rooms as they were, but I was not sure they were from Livadia, so I did not include them.

Finally, some photos of the "Tsar's Path" (or Sunny Path), which exists to this day (it goes from Livadia Park to the city of Gaspra.) The family loved to walk this path (regardless of its name, it is not sunny but pleasantly breezy). This path is on one level so that anybody can walk it, regardless of their cardiovascular status. I have read two stories about how it "emerged," and as usual, the truth is probably in the middle. First story: The new Livadia Palace did not exist yet, but the Romanovs used the old palace and always loved coming to Livadia. Alexander III kept gaining weight, and his doctor recommended that he walk but not overdo it...so Alexander had the path leveled. The path's beginning and end differed from what they would be later. Second Story: Sandro had the path from Ay Todor toward Livadia built because Nicholas and Sandro's families always visited each other (they started calling it the Prince's Path.) Nicholas loved the idea and extended the path.

Today, the main path remains, and other routes to other small towns can be hiked from it. Many of the same benches and sculptures are where they were at the time of the Romanovs.

Just one last photo. Here, you can see how close the palace is to the mountains and the sea. A beautiful big house full of fresh air and light with flowers perfuming the air. No wonder Olga liked it so much! (gcl)

[miffy-junot]

Felix Yusupov on his imprisonment in Crimea under the German army, and the news of the murder of the Romanovs

We awoke to be told that the Germans had arrived. This was a solution of our difficulties that no one had foreseen.

It was then April and a few days before Easter. On March 8, the Soviet government had signed the peace of Brest-Litovsk, and the Germans had begun occupying certain parts of Russia. They liked to pose as liberators to an over-credulous population who were exhausted by trials and privations and only too happy to welcome them as such. It was, in fact, their arrival that saved the lives of the prisoners of Dulber. The general rejoicings over their sudden and unexpected release can well be imagined. The German officer wanted to hang Zadorozhny and his men. He was thunderstruck when the Grand Dukes begged him not to dream of such a thing. On the contrary, they asked him to leave Ai-Todor under the protection of their late jailers. The German finally consented, on condition that he was relieved of all responsibility should anything go wrong. It was quite clear that he was convinced that their prolonged detention had driven the poor Grand Dukes mad. A few days later, after touching farewells, the jailers and their prisoners parted. The younger ones cried and kissed the hands of their former captives!

In May, one of the Kaiser's aides-de-camp arrived in Yalta. He brought with him an offer from his Imperial master to proclaim Tsar of all the Russias any member of the Imperial family who would consent to countersign the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk. All the Romanovs present rejected the proposal with indignation. The Kaiser's envoy then asked my father-in-law to arrange a meeting with me. The Grand Duke refused, saying that no member of his family would ever turn traitor. After their release, the prisoners remained for some time at Dulber; then the Empress went to live at Harax, an estate belonging to the Grand Duke Georgy, one of my father-in-law's brothers, and the rest returned to their homes.

As time went by, things became more or less normal. The relief felt by the older generation was tinged with a certain uneasiness, but the young people gave themselves up to the joy and excitement of being alive and free. Life became a round of pleasures: picnics, tennis parties, outings of all kinds. We found a new distraction in the founding of a weekly magazine. A friend of ours, Olga Vasiliev, a charming and intelligent girl, was editor. We used to meet at Koreiz every Sunday evening. After the latest news, Olga would read aloud the articles that each of her sixteen correspondents had written during the week on a subject left to their own choice. This was usually either some fabulous adventure, or an imaginary journey to some distant land, which was rather touching when one thinks how uncertain was the future of the youthful authors. The meetings began and ended with a hymn to the glory of the newspaper, which we sang in chorus. As the electric current was cut off at midnight, these evenings generally ended in candlelight. The interest which our parents took in our magazine and the amusement they derived from it did not prevent their feeling a trifle uneasy, for they knew that, in such troubled times, the most innocent pastimes were dangerous. Our periodical had a short life. It appeared only thirteen times; then all the members of the staff, one after the other, were laid low with Spanish flu. When, later on, we were obliged to fly for our lives and had to reduce our luggage to a minimum, the first thing that my wife packed was the gazette.

The Grand Duke Alexander had given his daughter a grove of pine trees, perched on a cliff above the sea, an enchanting spot. In 1915, we had built a little country house there; it was whitewashed inside and out, and had a green-tiled roof. As it was on a slope it was all lopsided, and its greatest charm lay in its complete lack of symmetry. A carpet of flowers stretched before the front door. A few steps led down from the entrance to a gallery overlooking the hall, which gave onto a terrace with a fountain in the center. Through another door one reached the swimming pool, which was surrounded by a pergola smothered in roses and wisteria, as was the house. As the cottage was all on different levels, it lent itself to a profusion of funny little staircases, unexpected corners, landings and balconies. The furniture was of oak with chintz cushions, and was somewhat like old English country furniture; there were rush mats on the floor instead of carpets. We were, alas, never able to live in the place, but during the comparatively happy days of the summer of 1918 we sometimes had picnics there. Food was scarce and the guests had to bring their own, but there was plenty of wine as everyone in the Crimea owned vineyards. There was also no lack of gaiety, for the young are ever ready to forget the trials of the day and look forward with eagerness to the future, however threatening it may be.

It was the day before one of these picnics that we heard that the Tsar and his family had been assassinated. But there were so many wild rumors afloat at the time that nobody believed them any longer, and the party was not even canceled. The news was denied a few days later, and a letter was published purporting to have been written by the officer who had saved their lives. Soon, alas, it was no longer possible to doubt the terrible truth. But even then the [Dowager] Empress Maria refused to believe it, and to her dying day treasured the hope of seeing her son again.

source: Lost Splendour by Felix Yusupov, chapter 26

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Dove of Peace by Picasso

* * * *

World peace is not a party question. [...] The structure of world peace cannot be the work of one man, or one party, or one Nation. It cannot be just an American peace, or a British peace, or a Russian, a French, or a Chinese peace. It cannot be a peace of large Nations- or of small Nations. It must be a peace which rests on the cooperative effort of the whole world. It cannot be a structure of complete perfection at first. But it can be a peace—and it will be a peace—based on the sound and just principles of the Atlantic Charter— on the concept of the dignity of the human being—and on the guarantees of tolerance and freedom of religious worship. [...] We shall have to take the responsibility for world collaboration, or we shall have to bear the responsibility for another world conflict. [...] Peace can endure only so long as humanity really insists upon it, and is willing to work for it—and sacrifice for it.

—Franklin D Roosevelt, Address to Congress concerning the Yalta Conference, Mar 1, 1945

[a-tale-never-told]

Yalta, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, 1030:am August 31st, 2012.

*As a Gaz 13 Chaika limousine drives down the mountain roads to its destination, one man is preparing himself. He is wearing a business suit with a fedora, has small eye contacts, a little mustache, and a briefcase. This is Shinjo Nomuri, the general secretary of the Communist Party of North Japan*

*Nomuri had been earlier confronted from the airport by a few Kgb guards, who said that their boss asked for a meeting with Shinjo and that he sent them to pick him up. Shinjo went alone quietly, fearing they would kill him if he tried*.

*Eventually, they reach the destination, a huge Dacha that is with a Lenin statue standing in front of the entrance and all the other cars parked near the clearing. Watchmen and Security armed with AKM assault rifles and Mosin Nagant Rifles watch closely at the car.*

*One of the men steps out of the car, a Kgb escort, and looks at Shinjo*.

Kgb guard: Мы прибыли, сэр. Выйти из машины ( We've arrived sir, get out of the car)

*Shinjo nods and steps out of the limo, escorted by Kgb. One of the guards looks at the security and waves his hand at them. Upon seeing the Signal, they let him through*

*They enter inside the hallways of the Dacha and proceed to walk to the office. Inside the hallways lining them up are pictures and paintings of famous hallmarks of Soviet history, such as the 1917 October Revolution, a Stalin-era building of the 1930s, and the Soviet flag being hoisted on the Reichstag. the detonation of the first Soviet nuclear device, a scene of Sputnik 1 in space, Yuri Andropov giving a speech to a crowd of Kazaks in the Kazak SSR, and more*

*Eventually, they reach the office where the front entrance is guarded by two Kgb guards wielding assault rifles. The escort looks at the guards as they proceed to check if they have any weapons hidden in the suit *.

Kgb guard : Он с нами. Товарищ Николай просил о срочной встрече с ним ( He's with us. Comrade Nikolai requested to see him for something urgent)

*One of the guards looks at Shinjo intently and then goes inside the office for a bit. A few minutes pass untill the guard comes out of the room*

Kgb guard: Товарищ Николай попросил пригласить его. ( Comrade Nikolai has asked to send him in)

Kgb guard: Понял ( Understood)

*With that, the guards pass so that the door is opened by the escort. entering the office. Behind the desk, is a portrait of Leon Trotsky, while the rest of the room has two paintings depicting the Soviet countryside. Sitting at the desk signing papers, is a 6ft skinny yet well-built tall man wearing a Soviet officer uniform, with his black hair and surprisingly youthful face concentrated on signing the documents*

Nikolai: Господин Генеральный секретарь, присядьте, пожалуйста.( Mr. General Secretary, have a seat please)

*Shinjo does as asked and proceeds to take his seat thus kickstarting the meeting*.

[blickarmenie]

Jour 8

Ce jour, je le consacre à l'identité culturelle arménienne... Que peut bien cacher ce titre ronflant? Et si j'abordais un faiseur de croix?

Les croix en pierre, nommées Khatckar,  sont des prodiges ancestraux d'entrelacement, et surtout l'un des symboles qui affirme l'identité de ce pays. Je découvre Hambik dans son atelier que bien sûr j'ai eu du mal à trouver. Qui peut se douter qu'au rebord de l'élégante allée pleine de fontaines aux jets variés, qu'entre les kiosques premium, qu'entre les élégances actuelles et bruyantes, sur le bord du trottoir, de l'autre coté du nouvel immeuble audacieux, en fait, se cache un quartier très ancien et totalement invisible du promeneur qui, trop attiré par les vertiges du neuf, ne peut distinguer la muraille en bois protégeant l'intimité des irréductibles.

"C'est nouveau toute cette merde. Moi j'ai grandi ici, et tout le monde se connaissait et toutes les maisons étaient sans étage. Erevan s'est inversé. Les vrais habitants sont tous partis soit à Los Angeles soit dans les villages. Mais mon atelier, je le garde ici. Mon père faisait des croix. Je continue. Regarde, une seule croix pèse 800kg. Celle là va partir en Amérique. Il y a longtemps, je suis entrée au séminaire. Je voulais être Katolikos, le pape de l'église arménienne. Puis j'ai vu que les textes servaient juste à contrôler les personnes. Puis ils ont eu peur alors ils m'ont expulsé. Mais les prêtres continuent de venir me voir. Mais je dit à tout le monde que ce sont des menteurs. Et je fais des croix. Je ne travaille pas... en fait, je m'amuse. Ah, voici ma seconde femme, tu as vu ma première épouse. Mon désir est d'avoir 7 enfants. Par les temps actuels, une femme ne suffit pas pour ce projet donc j'en ai 2. Oui, au début ce fut compliqué mais maintenant c'est accepté. Et j'ai déjà 2 enfants. Lora est enceinte.

... Bonjour Lora, dis je à la belle sortie d'un film des années 30.

... Lora : d'où je viens? Je suis née à Yalta donc en Union soviétique, puis je suis devenue ukrainienne et comme j'habitais en Crimée, je me suis transformée en russe. Non je n'ai pas fui. Je suis ici car j'aime ce pays, je ne sais pas pourquoi, mais oui....

... Hambik: tout n'est que mensonge sauf ce que je fais de mes mains et c'est pour cela que chacune de mes croix est unique.

Faire par ses propres mains, voilà ce que je désire répandre auprès de la nouvelle génération, m'explique Koryun.

Lui, il est analyste financier. Il travaille 4 à 5h dans ce domaine, puis il descend tout en bas pour participer à la gestion du projet d'éducation artistique qu'il a lancé il y a 15 ans.

Faire par ses mains sinon toute notre identité va disparaitre. Il ne nous reste que ça. Maintenant, les écrans attaquent nos traditions. Tout devient pareil partout. C'est un grand danger. Mais avant, les Turcs nous ont massacré. Aujourd'hui, les azéris veulent nous détruire. Avant, Staline a voulu enterré nos musiques et nos danses. Mais en secret, les anciens ont conservé la mémoire.

Une de mes équipes a d'ailleurs recueilli de nombreux chants dans les villages. Tiens, voici un livre pour toi, avec des chants et avec le QR code tu as l'audio. C'est fait par les mains des élèves. On a des professionnels qui viennent les aider.

Le prototype de cours d'art inclus dans ce collège, tout ce que je te montre, c'est pour prouver au gouvernement que c'est possible, que cela a des résultats et que l'on peut répandre le programme dans toutes les écoles.

Nous on veut élever les âmes par la culture. On veut transmettre la beauté de nos chants, de nos histoires... Les actualiser.

Nous ne sommes pas des conquérants. Nous voulons juste vivre tranquillement.

Qu'est ce qu'ils ont les politiciens à vouloir nous forcer à haïr notre voisin? C'est eux qu'on devrait abattre!

[noisynutcrusade]

Pupo will no longer go to the Moscow Festival: "But the controversy has nothing to do with it"

“The unpredictable, the impossible happened around my eventual participation in the festival Road to Yalta. By virtue of reflections and absorbed in my thoughts on the journey I am making from Lugano to the city of Spa, in Belgium, where I will stop for a few days to rest and reflect again”, he announces baby. I have decided not to leave for Moscow.” “Certainly it doesn’t depend on the…

[infinitesofnought]

When they got out of the droshky at Oreanda they sat down on a bench not far from the church, and looked down at the sea, without talking. Yalta could be dimly discerned through the morning mist, and white clouds rested motionless on the summits of the mountains. Not a leaf stirred, the grasshoppers chirruped, and the monotonous hollow roar of the sea came up to them, speaking of peace, of the eternal sleep lying in wait for us all. The sea had roared like this long before there was any Yalta or Oreanda, it was roaring now, and it would go on roaring, just as indifferently and hollowly, when we had passed away. And it may be that in this continuity, this utter indifference to life and death, lies the secret of our ultimate salvation, of the stream of life on our planet, and of its never-ceasing movement towards perfection.

Side by side with a young woman, who looked so exquisite in the early light, soothed and enchanted by the sight of all this magical beauty — sea, mountains, clouds and the vast expanse of the sky — Gurov told himself that, when you came to think of it, everything in the world is beautiful really, everything but our own thoughts and actions, when we lose sight of the higher aims of life, and of our dignity as human beings. Someone approached them — a watchman, probably — looked at them and went away. And there was something mysterious and beautiful even in this. The steamer from Feodosia could be seen coming towards the pier, lit up by the dawn, its lamps out. “There’s dew on the grass,” said Anna Sergeyevna, breaking the silence. “Yes. Time to go home.” They went back to the town.

– Anton Chekhov, "The Lady with the Dog", trans. Ivy Litvinov

[searuss8]

Ялта. Приморский парк. Пляжи: Дельфин, Солнечный, сан. Россия, Ялта, Наб...,

[deadpresidents]

Unfinished: April 12, 1945

As March 1945 drew to a close, Franklin Delano Roosevelt was exhausted. At the beginning of February, Roosevelt had attended the Yalta Conference with Winston Churchill and Joseph Stalin -- a meeting which required the American President to undertake a physically punishing and extraordinarily dangerous trip halfway around the world to the Crimean Peninsula in the middle of a raging world war. At Yalta, Roosevelt’s appearance had shocked the foreign leaders and their aides. In his last face-to-face meeting with Churchill, on February 18, 1945, FDR was seen as a dead man walking. Churchill’s personal doctor, Lord Moran, told a friend that Roosevelt had “only a few months to live”.

Being President of the United States for just one term is taxing enough on a young man or a healthy man. Franklin Delano Roosevelt had been President for twelve years. He had campaigned for the Presidency and been victorious in four national elections. His Administration faced one of the greatest domestic crises in American History -- the Great Depression -- and the greatest crisis and bloodiest conflict in world history -- World War II. FDR had attacked these problems (and other issues that arose during his terms) with energy, creativity, and a relentless pursuit of victory.

A healthy and athletic man who stood nearly 6′2″ and weighed about 200 lbs. as Assistant Secretary of the Navy under Woodrow Wilson, Franklin Roosevelt had been stricken by polio in 1921. The disease robbed him of his ability to walk and, at the time, looked as if it had robbed him of a political future. He rebounded politically but physically he was never the same. Confined to a wheelchair, the muscles in his legs withered like the branches of a tree in winter. Although he could not walk under his own power, FDR taught himself to stand while wearing heavy steel braces around his shins. He needed the assistance of a muscular partner -- sometimes one of his sons, sometimes a military aide -- in order to feign the appearance of walking. Through sheer will, however, Roosevelt learned to take a few steps without anyone’s help -- a handy skill that he would show off at important campaign rallies. But as he began his unprecedented fourth term in the White House in the early months of 1945, FDR no longer had the energy to show off.

Roosevelt was as gravely ill as Lord Moran suggested. The successful 1944 Presidential campaign had severely drained his already tapped-out reservoirs of energy and stamina. His fourth inauguration was low-key, partly because it took place in the midst of war and partly due to the President’s failing health. Instead of the traditional inaugural ceremonies at the U.S. Capitol, Roosevelt took the Oath of Office at the White House and gave his brief fourth Inaugural Address from a balcony at the Executive Mansion. The famously verbose Roosevelt gave the second-shortest Inaugural Address in American History. By the time the crowd realized that he was talking he had already finished. Only George Washington’s four-sentence-long second Inaugural Address in 1793 was shorter than the address given by FDR on January 20, 1945.

FDR now looked entirely different than the man who had told the nation that “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself” in 1933. Dark circles surrounded his eyes, which seemed sunken into his skull. Since his first Inauguration, Roosevelt had lost 40-50 pounds. His hands shook so violently at times that some observers wondered how he was able to eat. He smoked constantly, but rarely finished his cigarettes. Most shocking of all, FDR no longer went to great lengths to conceal his disability. Frail and tired, he found it almost impossible to wear the heavy braces that he long wore on his crippled legs. On March 1, 1945, Roosevelt addressed a joint session of Congress on the results of his Yalta Conference with Churchill and Stalin. In an unprecedented move, the President sat in a chair on the floor of the House of Representatives and apologized to Congress, beginning his speech by saying, “I hope that you will pardon me for this unusual posture of sitting down during the presentation of what I want to say, but I know that you will realize it makes it a lot easier for me not to have to carry about ten pounds of steel around on the bottom of my legs.” It was the first time that President Roosevelt had ever publicly acknowledged his physical disability.

Twelve years of the Presidency, economic depression and war had strained Roosevelt’s health, but the 14,000-mile trip to the Yalta Conference on the Black Sea had pushed FDR to the limit. On March 30, 1945, Roosevelt arrived in Warm Springs, Georgia for a few weeks of relaxation and, hopefully, recuperation. Roosevelt loved Warm Springs. He had started visiting the small town in western Georgia in the 1920s, hoping that the warm waters from the natural mineral springs nearby would help him regain the use of his legs. When he was Governor of New York, FDR purchased a small house that he used when he visited Warm Springs. As President, the home was called the “Little White House” and although FDR only visited it sixteen times during his Presidency, many of those trips were for 2-3 weeks each. When his train pulled into Warm Springs at about 1:30 PM on March 30, 1945, many longtime residents said that things seemed different. Roosevelt looked terrible and while he waved to onlookers, it was with noticeable weakness.

The first few days in Georgia were tough. FDR was obviously ill and seemed to struggle making it through a church service on Easter Sunday. Roosevelt also avoided his beloved Warm Springs pools. Instead, the President rested, caught up on sleep, and visited with guests. The goal was for FDR to regain enough of his health to make a trip to San Francisco for the charter meeting of what would become the United Nations. At the Little White House with Roosevelt were some personal aides, military attaches, and cousins Daisy Suckley and Polly Delano. During his first week at Warm Springs, Roosevelt did very little work, dictating a few letters and reading briefings, stronger and more animated in the mornings and evenings but completely drained in the afternoon. Another goal for Roosevelt was to gain weight -- by the time he left Warm Springs, he hoped to be up to 170 lbs.

Still, there was no noticeable improvement in FDR’s health or spirits. Then, on April 9th, Lucy Mercer Rutherfurd arrived. As President Wilson’s Assistant Secretary of the Navy, Franklin D. Roosevelt had become involved in a passionate love affair with his wife’s social secretary, Lucy Mercer. It was 1918 when Eleanor Roosevelt discovered the affair between Franklin and Lucy and threatened to divorce him unless he promised never to see or speak to Lucy again. FDR agreed to the ultimatum -- an ultimatum that was strengthened by his mother’s threat to cut off his inheritance if he and Eleanor were divorced, as well as the fact that Franklin’s budding political career would be crushed if the affair was revealed. The relationship between FDR and Eleanor was never again passionate or loving after the discovery of the affair, but Eleanor kept her word and remained married to Franklin. Franklin, however, didn’t keep his word to Eleanor.

The Franklin-Lucy affair probably resumed shortly after Roosevelt’s first Inauguration in 1933.  By that time, FDR and Eleanor had more of a professional relationship than a personal one. He respected the First Lady’s political viewpoints, supported her activism, used her as a sounding board, and tried to act on many of her suggestions. Personally, however, there was no passion or tenderness or intimacy between the First Couple. It was FDR and Eleanor’s daughter, Anna, who helped rekindle Franklin’s relationship with Lucy. She arranged for Lucy to visit the President in the White House when Eleanor was out of town. And on April 9, 1945, Lucy Mercer Rutherfurd was in Warm Springs, Georgia visiting President Roosevelt due to Anna Roosevelt’s invitation.

FDR was so excited to see Lucy that he didn’t wait for Lucy to make the drive all the way from Aiken, South Carolina to Warm Springs. The President and his cousin Daisy decided to meet Lucy’s car en route. At Manchester, Georgia, 85 miles away from Warm Springs, the highway rendezvous took place. FDR looked happier than he had in months as Lucy got into FDR’s car along with her friend, painter Elizabeth Shoumatoff. Lucy had brought Shoumatoff along to paint a portrait of the President -- a portrait that she hoped would be an improvement on the recent photographs that had made Roosevelt look “ghastly”.

For the next two days, Roosevelt and Lucy enjoyed their time together, going on small drives, eating happy meals, and sitting together while Shoumatoff prepared to paint the President’s portrait, studying photographs and making preliminary drawings. Daisy Suckley had the opportunity to observe the unique relationship between FDR and Lucy Mercer and also had some private conversations with the President’s longtime mistress. In her diary, Daisy recorded her thoughts about the two after she accompanied them on an automobile drive that they took: “Lucy is so sweet with F(ranklin) -- No wonder he loves to have her around -- Toward the end of the drive, it began to be chilly and she put her sweater over his knees -- I can imagine just how she took care of her husband -- She would think of little things which make so much difference to a semi-invalid, or even a person who is just tired, like F(ranklin).”

On April 12th, President Roosevelt woke up and ate a light breakfast. He had a slight chill despite the warm, humid weather that day and wore his cape draped over his shoulders throughout the early afternoon. Roosevelt did a little bit of work, reading the Atlanta newspapers and dictating some correspondence. Elizabeth Shoumatoff had set up her easel in the living room where the President worked behind a card table that served as his makeshift desk. As Shoumatoff painted, FDR continued reading, and at about 1:00 PM, Roosevelt said, “We have got just about fifteen minutes more to work.”

In the quiet of the room, Daisy Suckley thought that the President had dropped his cigarette and was searching for it because his head slumped forward suddenly. Roosevelt could barely lift his head when Daisy asked what was wrong. He placed his left hand gently against the back of his head and, in a barely audible voice, told Daisy, “I have a terrific pain in the back of my head!”

Roosevelt quickly slipped into unconsciousness as the women in the room summoned help. They called for a doctor who was staying in a cottage close to the Little White House and they helped two of FDR’s valets carry the President into the bedroom. Roosevelt’s hands and feet were ice cold, but he was still breathing. Smelling salts were administered but FDR was unresponsive. As the doctor and aides tried to help the President, Lucy Mercer Rutherfurd and Elizabeth Shoumatoff recognized the hopelessness of the situation. They also recognized the potential scandal that was possible if it was learned that the President collapsed in the presence of his longtime mistress.

Shoumatoff packed up all of her paints and the unfinished portrait she had been working on. Lucy Mercer grabbed her belongings and took one last look at her beloved Franklin. He was still alive when they left, but he was breathing laboriously and his eyes no longer recognized Lucy. Lucy and Elizabeth Shoumatoff had been on the highway back to Aiken, South Carolina for an hour when President Franklin Delano Roosevelt died in Warm Springs at 3:35 PM. The official cause of death was a cerebral hemorrhage. FDR was 63 years old.

Eleanor Roosevelt was notified of her husband’s death a few minutes after 4:00 PM. She summoned Vice President Harry Truman to the White House while he was having a drink at the U.S. Capitol with House Speaker Sam Rayburn. Truman wasn’t told why he needed to hastily come to the White House, but he knew it sounded urgent. As Truman left the Capitol, he ran into a young Congressman who questioned the Vice President about his speedy exit -- a young Congressman named Lyndon Johnson.

At the White House at 5:30 PM, Eleanor Roosevelt broke the news to the Vice President simply a directly: “Harry, the President is dead.” Truman was stunned and asked what he could do for the widowed First Lady. Eleanor smiled sadly and asked, “Is there anything we can do for you? For you are the one in trouble now.” At 7:00 PM, Chief Justice Harlan Fiske Stone administered the Oath of Office to Truman as the 33rd President of the United States.

By that time, Eleanor was on her way to Warm Springs to claim her husband’s body. At about midnight, she arrived at the Little White House in Georgia where she asked about her husband’s last hours. It was then that she learned news almost as shocking as the President’s death. Eleanor found out that FDR had been with his former mistress Lucy Mercer Rutherfurd when he was stricken. She spent 45 minutes alone with his body, picked out the clothing for his burial, but never lost her composure despite the shocks that she experienced that day.

A funeral train returned FDR’s body to Washington, D.C. the next day. Roosevelt was embalmed by morticians who found that the President’s arteries were so hardened that they could barely inject the embalming fluid into his body. FDR’s body laid in state in the East Room of the White House almost 80 years to the day that Abraham Lincoln’s body rested in the very same place following his assassination. On the 80th anniversary of Lincoln’s death -- April 15, 1945 -- Franklin Delano Roosevelt was buried in the garden of his beloved estate Hyde Park on the Hudson River in New York. Upon his death, the New York Times wrote of the deceased President:

“Men will thank God on their knees a hundred years from now that Franklin D. Roosevelt was in the White House. It was his hand, more than that of any other single man, that built the great coalition of the United Nations. It was his leadership which inspired free men in every part of the world to fight with greater hope and courage. Gone is the fresh and spontaneous interest which this man took, as naturally as he breathed air, in the troubled and the hardships and the disappointments and the hopes of little men and humble people.” 

Elizabeth Shoumatoff’s Unfinished Portrait of President Roosevelt -- which she was working on when he died -- now hangs in the Little White House in Warm Springs, Georgia.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Sunday 10 May 1840

8 ¾

1 40/..

finish morning R10 ¼° at 10 a.m. about before breakfast at 10 ¼ to 11 – then had Mr. Besoc and then Captain Tolstoy who staid after Mr. B- and till after 1 – I had just turned all my things out of my bag and began packing before they came – all the rest of the day packing and putting away my papers etc. (to be left behind) in the top of my Moscow portmanteau and put my own dresses and A-‘s in the portmanteau to be left behind – about 8 went down to see about the kibitka packing – tis now 9 and we have not dined or had tea – Madame Latchinoff sent the translation of her voyage to Erivan by 10 this morning (before breakfast) – It seems, after all, that Mr. T- (not captain – only Lieutenant as yet) [likes] better reading than that of light travels etc. etc. his favourite work Mignards’ French revolution 4vols. 8vo. and likes Hume and Gibbon and Robertson – the black sea said B. and T. very stormy from 1 September to 1 May – short hay-cocky waves – government bought 5 steamers in London – one of 130 horse power lost – could not contend against the storm – but from 1 May to 1 September 4 months of summer the sea stormless (storms have been known in May) and beautiful – one goes from Kertch [Kerč’] to Yalta and thence to Odessa but regular post road by land – vessels have been 3 months instead of 30 hours (or 2 or 3 days with wind) from Constantinople to Odessa – B- himself was a month and all but lost – 1 ½ day from Constantinople to Trebizond – the Tcherkess pirates [?] to [?] vessels – fine day – felt queer from not having walked out for several days – Read Madame L-s’ little work after dinner – Sense well enough – French bad –

[miffy-junot]

Felix Yusupov on his imprisonment in Crimea following the October Revolution

Judging by the big Delaunay-Belleville car which met me at the station, flying a pennant with an enormous crown on it and our coat of arms on the doors, life in the Crimea was still comparatively normal. A few months previously, after a long struggle to maintain discipline, Admiral Kolchak, who was then commander-in-chief in the Black Sea, broke the Golden Sword he had been awarded for outstanding valor, threw the pieces into the sea and resigned his command. Then one day soon after my arrival, the Black Sea Fleet went over to the Bolsheviks. There followed a terrible massacre of naval officers in Sebastopol. Bands of sailors broke into houses, looting and murdering, raping women and children in front of their husbands and parents; torturing men to discover their valuables. I happened to see some of these sailors, pearl and diamond necklaces banging on their hairy chests, their arms and fingers loaded with bracelets and rings. Among them were youngsters of fifteen. Many were grotesquely powdered and made up. It was like a masquerade in hell. In Yalta, mutineers tied stones to the feet of their officers before shooting them, and then tossed their bodies into the sea. Later, a diver sent down to explore the bottom of the bay went out of his mind at the sight of these corpses standing upright in ghostly array and swaying in the current. We were never sure, on going to bed at night, of waking up alive in the morning. One afternoon a band of sailors came to Yalta to arrest my father. I told them that he was ill, and asked to be shown their warrant. Of course they did not have one, and I played for time by telling them to go and fetch one. After endless discussions, two of them reluctantly consented. As they had not returned several hours later, their companions grew tired of waiting, and left.

A few days later, another band of sailors came down from the hills behind Koreiz. They called themselves "naval cavalry." They were well-known for their cruelty and were dreaded even by the Soviets. Armed to the teeth and mounted on stolen horses, they rode into our courtyard brandishing flags with the most promising slogans such as "Death to the bourgeois! Death to the anti-revolutionaries! Death to the landlords!" A terrified servant came to tell me that they were demanding food and wine. I went into the courtyard. Two of the sailors dismounted and came to meet me. They had degenerate and brutal faces; one wore a diamond bracelet, the other a brooch. Their uniforms were stained with blood. They said they wanted to speak to me in private, so I took them to my room after sending the rest of the band to the kitchen for refreshments. Irina's face was a study when she saw me come in with my two ruffians! I sent for some wine and we all four settled down to a cosy talk. Our visitors did not seem at all embarrassed, but stared at us with curiosity. Suddenly one of them asked me if I was really the man who had murdered Rasputin, and on receiving my reply they both drank to my health, declaring that that being the case neither my family nor I had anything to fear from them. They began recounting their heroic feats against the White Army. Then, catching sight of my guitar, they asked me to sing. I did so, feeling rather relieved to put a stop to their unsavory reminiscences. I sang several songs and they joined in the choruses; one bottle after another was emptied and our guests got more and more boisterous. My parents, whose room was above mine, wondered what all the noise was about. But all things come to an end, and the sailors finally went off after shaking hands with us again and again, and thanking us effusively for our hospitality. The whole band jumped into their saddles, waved farewell in the most friendly fashion, and brandishing their flags disappeared into the hills.

Kerensky's commissar at Ai-Todor had been dismissed and a new man appointed by the Soviets. My father-in-law [Grand Duke Alexander], in his book, describes this arrival as follows: We are feeling the effects of the new Revolution. Djordjuliani, our head jailer, has been replaced by a sailor called Zadorozhny. I was introduced to him on his arrival, in the room occupied by our guards. He is an enormous, savage-looking brute, yet there is a certain kindliness about him withal. Most fortunately our first conversation was in private, and from the beginning he was extremely polite. I asked him where he had served. In the Air Force, he replied, adding that he had seen me several times at Sebastopol. We then talked about the general situation, and from what he said I gathered that he was on our side, although he frankly admitted that he had at first allowed himself to be drawn into the revolutionary movement... We parted the best of friends. It is a great comfort to know that we can depend on him. He treats us roughly before his comrades to disguise his real feelings. Meanwhile a man by the name of Spiro appeared at Ai-Todor and assembled all its inmates for a roll call. The Dowager Empress refused to come down, merely showing herself for an instant at the top of the stairs. Zadorozhny first came to Ai-Todor in December; in February he told my father-in-law that all the Romanovs residing in the Crimea were to be interned along with their suites at Dulber, an estate belonging to the Grand Duke Pyotr Nikolaievich. He explained that this was being done to ensure their safety. It appeared that the Yalta Soviet was insisting on their immediate execution, whereas the Sebastopol Soviet - from which Zadorozhny took his orders - wanted to await Comrade Lenin's instructions, and feared that the Yalta Soviet might attempt to seize the prisoners by force. The reason why Dulber had been chosen was that it would eventually prove easier to defend than Ai-Todor, as it had high thick walls and was more like a fortress than a palace. Among those who were interned were: the Dowager Empress, my parents-in-law and their six sons; the Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaievich, his wife and her two children from a first marriage; the Grand Duke Pyotr and the Grand Duchess Militza and their children, Princess Marina and Prince Roman. As for their youngest daughter, Princess Nadezhda who was married to Prince Orlov, the Grand Duchess Olga Alexandrovna, and my wife, who were all married morganatically, they were allowed to go free.

At Dulber, the prisoners were completely cut off from the rest of the world. The only person allowed to visit them was our daughter Irina, then two years old. Through her, we managed to communicate with them. Her nurse took her to the gates of the park and the child entered it alone, with our letters pinned inside her coat. The answers reached us in the same way. Our little messenger never let us down. The conditions in Dulber were none too good; things were very uncomfortable and food was very scarce. Kornilov, the chef, who later kept a famous restaurant in Paris, did the best he could with the little he had: mostly buckwheat and pea soup. Once, for a treat, the prisoners of Dulber had donkey for lunch and billy goat for dinner. Knowing that her brothers were allowed out in the park, my wife invented a system by which we could communicate with them. We used to go for a walk with our dogs under the walls of the estate. Irina would call the dogs and instantly one of her brothers would appear on top of the wall. If he caught sight of a jailer, he would slip to the ground and we walked on looking as innocent as we could. Unfortunately our stratagem was found out before long.

I met Zadorozhny one afternoon and we walked a little way together. After asking for news of his prisoners, I told him that there was something I wanted to speak to him about; he seemed surprised and a little embarrassed. Presumably he did not want his men to see him with me. So I asked him to come one evening to my house, where he could be sure of not meeting anyone he knew. To get into the house unobserved, all he had to do was to climb over the balcony of my room, which was on the ground floor. He came that evening and several times afterward. My wife was often present at our meetings. We spent hours trying to find some way of saving the Empress Maria and her family. It became more and more evident that this fearsome-looking giant was sincerely devoted to us. He explained that he was fighting for time by exploiting the rivalry that existed between the two Soviets: that of Yalta which wanted to shoot the royal prisoners on the spot, and that of Sebastopol which, in agreement with Moscow, wanted them to be tried. I suggested his telling the Yalta Soviet that the Romanovs were shortly going to be transferred to Moscow for trial, and that if they were shot out of hand important state secrets, known only to them, would be lost. Zadorozhny took my advice. He had managed to protect his prisoners until then, but the situation grew daily more difficult, as the Yalta Soviet suspected that he was trying to save them, and his own life was in danger. A few days later he came to our house in the middle of the night to tell me that he had received information from a reliable source that a large party of sailors was coming the next day to take the prisoners to Yalta and shoot them. He had decided to be away when they arrived, as he was sure of his men and knew that in his absence they would not allow anyone to enter the estate. He added that the young princes had already, for several nights, taken turns at mounting guard, and that arms were held in readiness for them in case of alarm, He also announced that there was going to be a general massacre in which no one would escape... The news was all the more unpleasant as we were incapable of defending ourselves, for all our arms had been confiscated.

Sure enough, the troop of sailors arrived next day from Yalta and tried to enter Dulber. As Zadorozhny had foreseen, his men said that in the absence of the commissar, their orders were to admit no one. The walls were bristling with machine guns, and when they saw that the guards were prepared to use them the aggressors left, shouting insults and threats as they went. We knew that after this unsuccessful venture, Yalta would take steps to end the matter once and for all. Foreseeing that a massive attack was imminent, Zadorozhny went to Sebastopol himself to fetch reinforcements. He was expected back the same evening. But Yalta lay closer to Dulber than Sebastopol....

We spent the night on the roof of our house, from which we could see the towers of Dulber and keep an eye on the road by which both the reinforcements from Sebastopol and the bandits from Yalta would arrive. It was dawn when we saw the armored trucks from Sebastopol drive past. As nothing appeared from Yalta, we went to bed. We awoke to be told that the Germans had arrived. This was a solution of our difficulties that no one had foreseen.

source: Lost Splendour by Felix Yusupov, chapter 26

[arkadiy-sidorenko-blog]

На #квизиумялта в ресторане #gussi.yalta. Пиво просто огонь!!! #пиво #бокал #blanchedebruxelles #beer #cerveza #bier #pint #rest #restraunt #fujifilm #fujifilmeu #fujifilmru #xt2 #yalta #color #crimea https://www.instagram.com/p/B2Y0yl1JWk8/?igshid=4cjd021a77kn

[weirdestarrow]

The next two chapters of Secrecy and Deception are taking a long time so here is a snippet

————

America’s POV

Event: Iranian Crisis of 1946-Resolution 3

Location: Westminster Central Hall, London, England, United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland

Date: April 4, 1946

I was pissed. It had been months since the deadline and Soviet had yet to pull out of Iran. I had already gotten UN and the rest of the current Security Council, China, France, Dad, Australia, Brazil, Egypt, Mexico, Netherlands, Poland, and, slightly to my surprise, Soviet, to pass a resolution that told them to pursue negotiations.

A resolution that seemed to have done nothing, as we had once again need to pass a resolution addressing this problem. Thankfully, Soviet wasn't here at this meeting, as I'm pretty sure he would be doing his best to slow down the passing of the resolution if he was. I wasn't sure what he was doing to cause him to be absent, but it most likely had something to do with his actions in Iran.

“Resolution of 4 April 1946, obviously, we know the date." UN said as he began reading out what was written in the resolution before we voted on it. UN was interesting. He was nice, but always seemed very nervous. Then again his father, League of Nation, had failed to stop a world war, so he might just be nervous that he would fail at that as well. Still, UN was a very hard worker, even if he did have an annoying habit of calling everyone by their full names.

"The Security Council, taking note of the statements by the Iranian representative that the Iranian appeal to the Council arises from the presence of USSR troops in Iran and their continued presence there beyond the date stipulated for their withdrawal in the Tripartite Treaty of 29 January 1942." UN began.

I had been the first country to withdraw from Iran, followed by Dad. We had started to get worried when Soviet hadn't withdrawal by the date he was supposed to, but I had been alarmed when he expanded his military presence there, and when he had helped set up those two puppet states.

Soviet was after influence, that much has been made clear.

And now I was getting worried over what that influence would mean. I now regret what I had let Soviet get away with at Yalta and Potsdam, but I wasn't looking to provoke a conflict, and for the sake of peace I was willing to let him have what he wanted.

But if Soviet was going to start conflicts because what he had been given wasn't enough for him, I should've just started a fight right there and then we wouldn't be in this mess.

Still, hopefully this pressure from UN would help convince him to back down, although I was willing to help Iran if he didn't.

If only Kennan's telegram had been created earlier. Perhaps things would be different. But now wasn't the time to focus on the past. I had other concerns to deal with.

[solipseismic]

day 17 an2022 update: 1k added, 8k more to go

“Yes.” Fin resumed his back rubs. Yalta sighed in exhausted content. “I have… a graph.”

“I’ll take a look when we get back.” Lu sighed and unsheathed her swords, their curves glinting like twin crescent moons. “Do we have a plan? Do we want a plan?”

“Plans are for pansies,” Vega said. “My plan has two steps. Step one: kill the monster. Step two: don’t die.”

“You’re a real intellectual,” Malice told Vega. “No wonder why we get along so great.”

Vega pretended to preen and Fin rubbed his temples in misery. Malice had found that out of all of them, Fin was the smartest—his thoughts ran at a thousand miles an hour every second of the day and he was as distractible as a freshly-rested chihuahua.