Kobzon about Stalin, Hamas and Israel. From Stalin to Putin: Joseph Kobzon, the main voice of the Soviet stage and a symbol of the era, died. Kobzon’s speech before Stalin
“I am my own judge, and no one has power over me... I lived a very interesting, difficult, but beautiful life. I have everything in this life. There is my love, there is my continuation: my children, my grandchildren. There are my songs, my listeners” - I. D. Kobzon. More than 50 years on stage, performances before Stalin, Khrushchev, Gorbachev, Yeltsin - the life of Joseph Davydovich Kobzon is closely intertwined with the history of the USSR and Russia. That is why his voice is the voice of more than one generation. Joseph Kobzon is not just the most titled singer of the Russian musical Olympus, a deputy State Duma, a musical and public figure, but also one of the most beloved artists in our country. Unique photographs from family archives, a first-person narrative will tell about the ups and downs, success and vicissitudes of Joseph Davydovich’s life, which hardly anyone could see behind the dazzling light of the spotlights.
Speeches before Comrade Stalin
Everything happens for the first time. My first teacher's name was Polina Nikiforovna. Good man. I remember my name. I always remember. But I forgot my last name. From her I learned to write and read, draw and count only by “five”.
But, perhaps, I learned to sing first from my mother, and then continued in singing lessons and in an amateur art group.
Back then there was no entertainment: no discos, no tape recorders, no televisions. Mom loved to sing romances and Ukrainian songs. We had a gramophone and a lot of records. Mom sang, and I loved to sing along with her. We sat down in the evenings, lit a kerosene lamp and sang “I marvel at the sky - I’m wondering: why didn’t I juice, why don’t I pour?...” Mom liked this song. And in general it was a magical time. Kerosene was expensive, it was saved and the lamp was lit only when it was completely dark outside. We were driven home, and I was looking forward to the moment when my mother and I would start singing...
It was some kind of mesmerizing action and spectacle. Melancholy was replaced by joy, tears by joy, when my mother sang her favorite songs. And, probably, it was then that I was forever “poisoned” by singing. Songs became my “drugs.”
I sang at school, sang with the school choir on the stage of the city cultural center. There were no shows or competitions then – there were art olympiads. And at the age of ten, I, as a representative of Kramatorsk, won my first victory at the All-Ukrainian Amateur Olympiad for schoolchildren, earning my first award - a trip to Moscow to the USSR Exhibition of Economic Achievements. And there I was able to perform in front of my famous namesake.
The fact is that Comrade Stalin himself was present at our concert in the Kremlin. I sang Matvey Blanter’s song “Migratory Birds Are Flying.”
In short, I first found myself in the Kremlin Theater in 1946... Yes, yes, there was no Kremlin Palace or the Rossiya cinema and concert hall yet - only the Column Hall of the House of Unions. It was considered the most prestigious, plus two chamber ones, as to this day - the Tchaikovsky Hall and the Great Hall of the Conservatory. The closed Kremlin Theater was located in a building near the Spasskaya Tower: as you enter, immediately on the right side. And so the director gathered us all there and said: “Now we’ll start rehearsing. Please note: there is strict discipline at the concert; you will be allowed out of the room only one number before going on stage.”
And we all knew that Joseph Vissarionovich Stalin might be in the hall. We were warned: if the leader was present, there was no need to be curious or look at him. That’s what they told me: “Don’t look at Stalin.” But this is the same as telling a believer “not to be baptized” when there is a temple or priest in front of you. However, I didn’t have the opportunity to take a closer look: I just sang the song “Migratory Birds Are Flying” - and went backstage, and there they immediately told me: go to the room!
The next day we were taken to museums, shown to Moscow, fed, put on a train and sent home.
And the second time I appeared before Stalin was already in 1948. Again, as the winner of the Republican Olympiad, I performed in the same Kremlin theater, and the same picture: nothing new, only Blanter’s song was already different - “Golden Wheat”. I came out in a white shirt with a red tie...
This time I saw Stalin, because a short distance separated us, but out of fright, I cast a lightning glance and immediately turned it into the hall. As I remember now: with a smile on his face, he sat in the box on the right side, if you look from the stage, and applauded me. Molotov, Voroshilov, and Bulganin were sitting next to him. Beria and Malenkov were not there. I saw Stalin only from the stage when I sang. The box was located about ten meters from me.
When they told us that Stalin would be there, we were afraid to speak. Not because they were afraid of Stalin, but they were afraid that as soon as we saw him, our tongue, legs and arms would stop obeying, and we would not be able to perform at all. Then it was not customary to record phonograms, as is done now on the principle of “no matter what happens,” so that, God forbid, something unexpected would not happen under the president, in case someone forgets the words or, even worse , will say something unnecessary... Then, thank God, it was a different time. Everything had to be real. And so, in order not to lose face, we rehearsed everything carefully. The concert ran through several times, but we were still terribly worried...
I sang, and Stalin listened to me. I couldn’t look at him for long, although I really wanted to. I remember I managed to see that he was wearing a gray jacket. I sang and bowed, as I had seen them bow to their beloved king in the movies. And he bowed to the respected audience. I sang and had great success. He sang and went backstage on wobbly childish legs. Sang to Stalin himself!
This is how my singing career began. I was still small and didn’t really understand what a “leader of all nations” was. His name was Joseph. And my mother named me Joseph. I think it was much more difficult for the other speakers who were older. Unfortunately, I don’t remember in detail how Stalin reacted to my speech. Since I don’t remember, I don’t want to tell you that he shouted “bravo”, supporting endless applause, or smiled approvingly at me... Now I could say anything, but I don’t want to lie.
But I remember well how a year before, when I came to Moscow, also for an amateur art show, on May 1 on Red Square I participated with everyone in a demonstration in front of the Mausoleum. I remember how we all looked with admiration at the leaders of the party and government who organized and inspired the great victory over fascism, and we especially looked with all our eyes at our heroic, but so simple leader. I remember all this well. And the light green curtain at the Kremlin Theater will forever remain in my memory.
So I wrote this and thought: but I had the opportunity to live under all the Soviet and post-Soviet tsars, except Lenin... How many were there? First Stalin, then Malenkov, Khrushchev, Brezhnev, Andropov, Chernenko, Gorbachev, Yeltsin, Putin, Medvedev, Putin again. Lord, am I really that old already...
By the way, I really liked Blanter’s song back then. “Migratory birds are flying in the blue autumn distance. They fly to hot countries, and I stay with you...” I sang it with all my heart: in Donetsk, and then in Kyiv, and in Moscow. When, after some time, he showed the certificate he had given me to Matvey Isaakovich, the old composer burst into tears.
And one more important point for me. When I, as the winner of the Ukrainian Olympics, was given a ticket to Moscow, my mother said: “If you want, see your father.” And I met. However, his attitude towards my mother and my grateful attitude towards my stepfather, towards Bata, made our communication completely formal. He took me, as I remember now, to Child's world to Taganka. He bought me some kind of sweater and bought something else. I thanked him. And he said that he would have a good lunch tomorrow and that I should come. At that meeting I learned that he had new family Two sons are already growing up.
People's Artist of the USSR, famous Soviet and Russian artist Joseph Kobzon passed away on August 30. For many years, the singer struggled with a serious illness - he was operated on several times, received chemotherapy, and fell into a coma. And so, just over 10 days before his birthday, Kobzon passed away in the intensive care unit of a private clinic in the center of Moscow.
The site's editors have collected the top 10 little known facts about an artist who spent almost his entire life on stage.
Escape from war and the “loss” of mother
Joseph Kobzon was born near Artemovsk in the small town of Chasov Yar. When did the second one begin? World War, his father immediately went to the front, and his mother gathered the children, got on the train, not knowing where he was going, and left. The main thing in this situation was to escape away from the border and military operations.
“I remember how my mother went to get water at the station and fell behind the train. And so we were left without my mother - that was the worst thing. And then she caught up with us two days later,” Kobzon recalled in an interview.
Moreover, throughout his life, it was his mother who was for the artist “God, religion and faith, which he did not want to part with, and at the same time did not understand how she had enough time for a large family.”
Tattoos at 13 years old
Sometimes summer holidays the future honored artist spent time with his uncle in a village in the Kirovograd region. At that time, the family lived in Dnepropetrovsk. Then the boy often ran to the river with friends to fish. They started joking with him that he was a Jew and would be afraid to get a tattoo.
However, he was not afraid. The guys tattooed him with three needles wrapped in thread. He had initials on his fingers, the inscription “I will not forget my dear mother” on his back, as well as an image of an eagle. But by evening the boy became ill, an infection set in, and his aunt and uncle barely saved him.
Later, when Kobzon began to appear on stage, he became very ashamed of the criminal tattoos that everyone was paying attention to, and he removed them, leaving only the image of an eagle.
Boxer's "career"
While studying at a mining technical school in Dnepropetrovsk, the guy, in addition to amateur performances, also began boxing. He himself said that he managed to defeat his opponents with the help of “bad power.” But when he won four victories, there was no opponent in his weight category and he decided to enter the ring against an athlete who had a higher rank. Immediately after the start of the fight, Kobzon was knocked out, and then he realized that “bad power can only be countered with the best knowledge and skills.”
In total, during his “boxing” career, Kobzon scored 18 victories and four defeats.
Three wives and ten grandchildren
During his 80 years, Kobzon managed to get married three times. At the age of 28, he first married Veronica Kruglova, with whom he was married for only two years. The marriage with actress and singer Lyudmila Gurchenko was not much longer - only three years. But his third union with Ninel Drizina lasted right up to his death. Only three years were not enough to celebrate the golden wedding (50 years of marriage).
Kobzon has two children left - Andrei and Natalya. In addition, he has 10 grandchildren.
Twice spoke before Stalin
For the first time, the singer performed in front of Stalin at the Kremlin Theater, where the final concert of the school amateur performance took place. He represented Ukraine there and performed Matvey Blanter’s song “Migratory Birds Are Flying.”
The second time Kobzon went on stage and sang in the presence of Stalin was a few years later. Then he performed “Golden Wheat” by the same Blanter.
Years later, in an interview with one of the publications, Kozon stated that he saw how Stalin liked his performance, and he himself sympathized with him throughout his life.
Connections with the Russian mafia
In May 1995, US authorities denied Kobzon entry into American territory, explaining that the singer had connections with the Russian mafia.
The artist himself stated that entry into the United States was denied not only to him, but also to all members of his family. The basis for this was the alleged letters of his enemies, where they slandered him.
According to him, he was ready to personally come to the United States in order to answer all the questions of interest to American law enforcement officers and close this issue forever.
Freed the Nord-Ost hostages
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Everyone remembers very well the Chechens’ seizure of the Theater Center building in Moscow, where the musical “Nord-Ost” was being performed. Then, according to official data, 130 people died, but there are allegations that there are more victims and the figure is 174 hostages.
Many say that there could have been more victims if not for Kobzon’s courage. Later, he himself said that as soon as he saw a message on TV about the taking of hostages, he rushed to them. He demanded to be allowed into the building and, with the help of his title of Honored Artist of the Chechen-Ingush USSR, won the favor of the terrorist leader. Thus, he was able to get several women and children out of the building.
In total, he went to Nord-Ost four times. For the first time - by myself, and then I took with me Irina Khakamada, Leonid Roshal, a doctor from Jordan, Ruslan Aushev, Evgeny Primakov.
Monument in Donetsk
Exactly 15 years ago, namely on August 30, 2003, a monument to Kobzon was unveiled in now-occupied Donetsk. Its author was the Moscow sculptor Alexander Rukavishnikov. The monument was cast in bronze, and the singer was depicted wearing a coat thrown over his shoulders.
The artist himself did not agree to the installation of a monument to him during his lifetime for almost a year and a half. But after much persuasion, including with the participation of the then governor Donetsk region Viktor Yanukovych, surrendered.
Guinness Book Record Holder
Joseph Kobzon was officially recognized as the most titled artist Russian Federation. In total, he has more than 180 awards and titles. And this is officially recorded in the Guinness Book of Records.
Among other things, he is an Honored Artist several times, although he was deprived of this title (President Petro Poroshenko signed a corresponding decree on May 14, 2018), he has several dozen different medals and orders of merit, he has been awarded honorary titles, prizes and grand prix .
A repertoire of thousands of songs and the fight against plywood
According to various estimates, Kobzon’s repertoire included at least 3,000 songs. At the same time, he remembered all of them by heart. It is known that at concerts his musicians did not use notes at all, and the artist himself remembered not only the lyrics, but any intonation and modulation of the songs, and here it no longer made a difference what language he performed in - Russian, English or Yiddish.
The singer was also an ardent supporter of the fight against lip-syncing by Russian artists. Before his second term in the State Duma, he distributed propaganda calling on artists to abandon the “plywood” and always sing live.
On September 11, the patriarch of the Soviet stage, a native of Donbass, a member of the editorial board of Gordon Boulevard, celebrates his 75th birthday
I regret that I do not wear a hat for the only good reason that I cannot silently take off my headdress in front of the Singer, Citizen and Man Joseph Davydovich Kobzon. While, on the eve of his 75th birthday, my colleagues are competing in choosing the epithets appropriate for the hero of the day: “legend”, “era”, “symbol”, “great”, I don’t want to resort to words from a long-worn deck, but it’s different about him, the People’s Artist USSR, Russia and Ukraine, a State Duma deputy of five convocations and our fellow countryman, finally, to whom a bronze monument was erected in Donetsk during his lifetime, you can’t say. However, one of the reasons he has remained a leader on the musical Olympus for half a century is that he treats dithyrambs with a condescending, mocking attitude and, at every opportunity, “disinfects” their cloyingness with a solid portion of self-irony. So, on the eve of the current celebrations, the master publicly announced: “I am mothballs. Someone has to fight the moths.” Against the backdrop of homegrown imitators Timberlake, Aguilera and Beyoncé, Kobzon’s powerful figure resembles a gigantic tree among the anemic pop flora and fauna. Everyone runs to it for help, everyone can hide in its shadow, but this same powerful and tall crown attracts thunder and lightning. Is it any wonder that Joseph Davydovich was mythologized, demonized, and turned either into an icon or a target on both sides of the ocean?
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Kobzon not only made a name for himself, but also created a special genre; he knows how to squeeze tears out of the audience and how indispensable humor is where pathos can ruin everything. False in the mouths of other artists and deputies, uplifting standards with the words “Motherland”, “patriotism” and “duty” sound extremely sincere in his performance, because Joseph Davydovich proved the right to them with his life, the milestones of which were not only shock Komsomol construction projects near the devil in the middle of nowhere, but also Damansky Island, Afghanistan, Chernobyl, “Nord-Ost”, where he was the first to go to negotiate with the terrorists who had taken hostages.
It has everything in abundance, with some kind of Old Testament scope: a beautiful baritone, not worn out by unprecedented song marathons, an immense repertoire of three thousand songs in Russian, Ukrainian, English, Yiddish, Buryat and other languages, unique, allowing even after 50 years to reproduce the text and melody performed once with all modulations, intonation and breaks, memory, phenomenal endurance... Suffice it to recall Kobzon’s farewell tour dedicated to his 60th birthday, which ended with an almost 11-hour concert: from 19.00 to 5.45 the next morning - What other singer is capable of this?
On stage and in the State Duma, we are accustomed to seeing him strong, self-confident, almost invulnerable - a kind of superman, and even after sepsis and a 15-day coma that occurred as a result of an oncological operation he underwent in January 2005, about which in one of our interviews Joseph Davydovich said with shocking frankness to the average person, he did not change his workaholic habits. On the personal website, given to him by his daughter Natasha for his 70th birthday, there is a dense list of planned activities and events, including notebook the next “do”, “call”, “meet”, “congratulate you on your birthday or wedding anniversary”, and nowhere do the items appear: “visit a doctor”, “take medicine”, “undergo a procedure”.
I have no doubt: to many of those who were crippled by this terrible disease, his example gave hope and faith, in any case, Kobzon proved that even an inevitable defeat can be turned into victory if you do not succumb to despair and self-pity, if you do not live out your destiny. term, but to live. He does not hide the fact that doctors, his wife Nelya and the stage keep him in this world, but as a courageous man, ready to face the truth, he admits that, unfortunately, there is no longer the former demand, that he lacks strength not only to fly and drive, but will never join the flirtatious chorus of artists who, according to them, dream of dying in front of the public. That's why the singer named his current tour - in defiance of his illness! - not farewell, but anniversary.
His concerts will also be held in Ukraine: in Donetsk, Dnepropetrovsk and Kyiv - three cities with which fate connected him most closely, but a trip to the United States,
where performances were also planned, will not take place - to the message that the State Department, which had groundlessly enlisted Joseph Davydovich as the godfather of the Russian mafia, again denied him a visa, the Internet, in a completely Kobzonov style, responded with an anecdote: “There’s no point in being born on September 11th!”
"WE DIDN'T SAIL - WE WERE TALKING"
Joseph Davydovich, I am incredibly glad that we have met again, for the umpteenth time, for a serious and detailed conversation. Someone will be surprised: are there really still some topics or issues that we have not discussed? - but I know that I can talk to you endlessly, and it will always be interesting, because you have an incredible life behind you...
I, Dima, just remembered a story: when the ocean liner sank and in the Odessa port all the passengers were already considered dead, suddenly two surviving Jews swim up to the pier. Onlookers came running and looked with widened eyes: “Where are you from?” - and they call the ship that lies on seabed. "How? - they are asked. “So you didn’t drown?” - “Yes, we were saved, but what?” - “How did you get there?” They shrugged their shoulders: “We didn’t swim - we talked.” So we’re talking to you the same way - that means there’s something to talk about.
“Why does time run so mercilessly, run and take away our lives? - before you have time to start living, the shadow of death is already somewhere nearby...
I remember my terribly poor, but still happy childhood. Happy, despite the fact that the Great Patriotic War swept through it, which became the main educator of my generation.
I was born in Ukraine. In Donbass. In the small town of Chasov Yar. We call them PGT - urban-type settlement: this is mine historical homeland, and then family paths led me to Lvov - that’s where the war found us. My father went to the front, and my mother and her children, with her disabled brother and mother, our grandmother, decided to evacuate. When I return to my childhood memories, I quite clearly remember this evacuation of ours, I remember the carriage, the crowded stations and how my mother ran for water for us and... fell behind the train. I remember how all of us - my grandmother, my uncle, my brothers, and I, as the youngest, were in a panic: my mother was missing! - and we always had all our hope in her, but three days later at some station my mother caught up with us. This is how we ended up in Uzbekistan, in the city of Yangiyul - 15 kilometers from Tashkent.
I clearly remember my wartime childhood, I remember how we lived with an Uzbek family, in their clay house, where even the floors were clay. From '41 to '44, we all huddled in one room - our families were separated only by a curtain. When they settled in for the night, the mattresses were laid out, and everyone lay down, as they say, in piles. Every morning the adults got ready for work and got us children up to feed us.
They fed us mainly in some kind of prison, and so that they would be nourished all day long, the so-called soup was cooked... My mother was resourceful in this matter, a housewife, she prepared food, it seemed, from nothing. Everything edible was used: potato peelings, sorrel, just green leaves or some kind of biting medicinal herb that dogs and cats love to eat when they lack vitamins or are attacked by some kind of disease. She added all this to the broth for which she bought a pork head and pork legs, boiled them, and the broth turned out to be fatty. The pure, golden droplets of fat in it were so salivating, and there was enough broth for the entire boil down, and it was big, aluminum - it took a whole week.
There was no bread - only sometimes we children were spoiled with Uzbek flatbreads, but mostly we ate the whole prison with cake. We lived next to the fence of the oil mill, and there we managed to get hold of this cake, which was made from waste sunflower seeds. Smelling to the point of pleasant dizziness, and so hard that it could be chewed endlessly, this cake was the main children's delicacy - mixing with saliva, it soothed our always hungry stomachs. We also ate our fill of resin, ordinary black resin - we chewed it all day long, it was our chewing gum, and this also satisfied our hunger.
After feeding, the adults sent us out for a walk - we spent the whole day and day after day there, running around with the boys barefoot, arranging the usual boyish games, so the street was my kindergarten.
I can’t say that I was the ringleader then, but I always led everything like a commander. Of course, we fought, but we made up very quickly and thereby learned not to hold a grudge against each other - the amazingly kind and hospitable Uzbek people will remain in my memory forever.
...Soon it became a little easier. Mom started working as the head of the political department of a state farm (before that, in Ukraine, she had been a judge since Chasov Yar), my brothers and I helped her as best we could, ran to the market with mugs to sell cold water. “Buy water! Buy water! - the boys shouted vying with each other, and in the heat, under the scorching Uzbek sun, they bought it willingly. True, for some pennies, but it also helped us, and we survived and... survived.
My mother was born in 1907, lived as a girl under the name Shoikhet, but got married and became Ida Isaevna Kobzon. Mom loved me, loved me very much, loved me more than anyone, because I was her youngest. It was only later, when the sixth child appeared in the family - sister Gela, she became the most beloved - also because she was a girl. Mom never called me by name - only sonny, and I also loved her very much, and always, always, until last days called mommy. She did everything she could for me, and if there was only one candy left, of course, I got it, if New Year Mom managed to get a tangerine, she bashfully hid it from others in order to feed me. My mother passed away in 1991...
As soon as Donbass was liberated from the Germans in 1944, we immediately returned to Ukraine and settled in the city of Slavyansk. We lived in the family of my mother’s deceased brother Mikhail with his wife, Aunt Tasi, a kind Russian woman with two sons (my mother’s two brothers died at the front).
We lived with Aunt Tasya because in 1943 my father returned from the front, shell-shocked, but did not return to us, but... stayed in Moscow, where he was treated and... became interested in someone else. Her name was Tamara Danilovna - such a wonderful lady, teacher. My father, David Kunovich Kobzon, like my mother, was a political worker (I am the only one, by the way, of all the children who kept his last name). My father honestly admitted to my mother that he decided to start another family - in general, he left us.
Until 1945, we lived with Aunt Tasya - we celebrated Victory Day there, and then moved to Kramatorsk. My mother worked as a lawyer in court, and here, in 1945, I went to school. My poor mother - she got a lot of grief! Everything fell on her shoulders, but she endured everything, and in 1946 she truly met good man- Mikhail Mikhailovich Rappoport, born in 1905, and joy came to our family - sister Gela appeared. It’s hard to call this man a stepfather - I proudly called him Dad. We all loved him madly until the end of our days, but he passed away early. The former front-line soldier did not have enough health, he no longer has it, but I still have it in me. Dad. My Father!
...It’s a strange thing: as a child, I was always an excellent student and at the same time a hooligan, but not in the sense of being an antisocial element, but simply never refused to fight if it was necessary to fight, as they say, for justice, that is, I was a hooligan of a different breed - I liked the role of Robin Hood. For my mother, I remained my son, and the street called its commander Kobzya - the street, of course, pulled me in, but it never stopped me from studying well. My mother kept certificates of commendation from Lenin and Stalin - mostly for my studies, but there are also some among them that indicate that I was a winner at amateur artistic competitions.
One of them - to nine-year-old Joseph Kobzon “for the best singing”: then, in 46-47, I really liked Blanter’s song “Migratory Birds Are Flying.” I simply sang it from the heart in Donetsk, and then in Kyiv, and when some time later I showed this certificate to Blanter, the old composer burst into tears.
As the winner of the Ukrainian Olympics, I was given a ticket to Moscow. I didn’t remember my own father, but when the time came to go to the capital, my mother told me: “If you want, see him,” and I did, but his attitude towards my mother and my grateful attitude towards my stepfather made our communication very formal. My father took me, as I remember now, to the Children’s World on Taganka, bought some kind of sweater, something else... I thanked him, and he said that he would have a good lunch tomorrow and that I should come, - he also said, that in his new family he already has two sons.
The next time we met was when I became a famous artist: Moscow registration was simply desperately needed. I graduated from the Gnessin Institute, and in order to grow further, it was necessary to stay in Moscow. The entire Soviet Union sang my songs: “And in our yard”, “Biryusinka”, “And again in the yard”, “Morse code”, “Let there always be sunshine” - but you never know the successes that I managed to achieve on the stage, but As luck would have it, I didn’t have a Moscow registration, and my ex-father didn’t refuse me. It was 1964...”
“DO NOT MAKE ANY NOISE, RYE, WITH YOUR RIPE EAR. DON'T SING, KOBZON, WITH A HOOSEPY VOICE..."
- I know, you sang twice in front of Stalin himself - what exactly and how did this happen?
At a time when you were not yet born, when there were no discos, no karaoke, or various high-tech innovations, everyone spent their free time on the street and in amateur activities.
Imagine the dim light of a kerosene lamp - we did our homework with it, a rag ball - we used it to play football, and songs - they brightened up that simple life. We lived in the Donbass, and Ukraine is a singing country, and they didn’t force us into the choir or amateur art classes - we ourselves went there with pleasure, because we loved to sing, because it was a continuation of communication, a wonderful pastime.
It so happened that I stood out a little among my peers - in general, I was in charge, I was a leader, and, say, in the pioneer camp I was always elected chairman of the squad council, and in Kramatorsk amateur performances our teacher - as I remember now, Vasily Semenovich Tarasevich - solo songs trusted me. Then, when the mutation period began, I was still teased - the mocking girls sang a duet (sings): “Don’t make noise, rye, with the ripe ear. Don’t sing, Kobzon, in a hoarse voice.”... I was already going through withdrawal then, but before that my voice was normal - I knew all the popular songs and performed them at the request of front-line soldiers.
- These were probably some of Blanter’s things?
Yes, of course: “Golden Wheat”, “Migratory Birds Are Flying”, and also Fradkina - “Oh, Dnieper, Dnieper...
“...you are wide, powerful, cranes are flying above you”...
In short, as a representative of Kramatorsk, I became the winner of the regional Olympiad in Donetsk, then the republican Olympiad in Kiev, and the laureates were sent to the final concert in Moscow - the All-Union Amateur Arts Olympiad for schoolchildren was held there. So I first found myself in the Kremlin Theater in 1946... Yes, yes, there was no Kremlin Palace or the Rossiya cinema and concert hall yet - only the Column Hall...
-...House of Unions...
It was considered the most prestigious, plus two chamber ones, as to this day - the Tchaikovsky Hall and the Great Hall of the Conservatory. The closed Kremlin Theater was in a building near the Spasskaya Tower - as you enter, it’s immediately on the right side, and so the director gathered us all there and said: “Now we’ll start rehearsing. Please note: there is strict discipline at the concert; you will be allowed out of the room only one number before going on stage.”
- Did you know that Stalin was in the hall?
Of course, but we were warned: if the leader was present, there was no need to be curious and look at him.
- Was Stalin warned that Kobzon would sing?
- (Laughs). Yes, it’s a good joke, but how can a child - and I was nine years old in 1946 - say at that time: “Don’t look at Stalin”? - this is the same as ordering a believer: do not cross yourself - when there is a temple or priest in front of you. However, I didn’t have the opportunity to take a closer look: I just sang the song “Migratory Birds Are Flying” - and went backstage, and there they immediately told me: go to the room!
The next day we were taken to museums, shown to Moscow, fed, put on a train and sent home, and the second time I appeared before Stalin in 1948. Again, as the winner of the Republican Olympiad, I performed in the same Kremlin theater, and the same picture - nothing new, only Blanter’s song was already different - “Golden Wheat”. (Humming):“I feel good, spreading the ears”... I came out in a white shirt with a red tie...
- ...and did they spot Stalin this time?
Yes, because a short distance separated us, but with fright, he cast a lightning glance and immediately turned it into the hall. As I remember now: with a smile on his face, he sat in the box on the right side, if you look from the stage, and applauded me.
From the book “As before God” by Joseph Kobzon.
“Before the speech, we were told that Stalin would be there, and he actually sat in the box among the members of the government (next to him were Molotov, Voroshilov and Bulganin - Beria and Malenkov were not). I saw Stalin only from the stage when I sang (the box was about 10 meters from me, on the right side of the stage). When we were told that Stalin would be there, we were terribly worried - not because we were afraid of Stalin, but because we were afraid that when we saw him, our tongue, legs and arms would stop obeying. Then it was not customary to record phonograms, as is done now according to the principle “no matter what happens,” so that, God forbid, something unexpected would happen under the president (suddenly someone would forget the words or, even worse, say too much )... Then, thank God, it was a different time - everything had to be real, and therefore, in order not to lose face, we rehearsed everything carefully, and although the concert was run through several times, we were still very worried.
I sang the song “Migratory Birds Are Flying” - I sang, and Stalin listened to me. I couldn’t look at him for a long time, although I really wanted to - the fact is that before leaving I was warned not to do this. I saw very little of him, but I remember I managed to see that he was wearing a gray jacket. I sang and bowed, as I had seen people bow to their beloved king in the movies, and bowed to the respected audience. He was a great success, but on weak childish legs he went backstage. Sang to Stalin himself! - this is how my career began, but I was still small and didn’t really understand what a “leader of all nations” was... They called him Joseph, and my mother called me Joseph.
Unfortunately, I don’t remember in detail how Stalin reacted to my speech, and since I don’t remember, I can tell you that he: “Bravo!” shouted, supporting endless applause, or smiled at me, I won’t... Now I could say anything, but I don’t want to lie - I only remember that sometimes I looked at him, and I also remember how a year before that, when I came to Moscow , also at a show of amateur performances, on May 1 on Red Square he participated in a demonstration in front of the Mausoleum. I remember how we all looked with love and admiration at the leaders of the party and government who organized and inspired the world victory over fascism, and especially we looked with all our eyes at our heroic but simple leader. The light green curtain at the Kremlin Theater will also remain forever in my memory...
So I wrote this and thought: but I had the opportunity to live under all the Soviet and post-Soviet tsars, except Lenin... How many were there? First Stalin, then Malenkov, Khrushchev, Brezhnev, Andropov, Chernenko, Gorbachev, Yeltsin, Putin, Medvedev... - Lord, am I really that old already?
“SASHA SEROV SAID: “IF YOU EVEN SAY THAT YOU SINGED BEFORE LENIN, I WILL STILL BELIEVE”
As far as I heard, the fact that you sang twice before Stalin made an indelible impression on the singer Alexander Serov...
-(Laughs). He was simply so impressed by my story that he squeezed out only one phrase: “Joseph Davydovich, I believe you.” “Thank you,” I replied, “but have I ever given you a reason to doubt my words?” “No,” said Sasha, “and even if you say that you sang in front of Lenin, I will still believe it.” This is of course a joke (laughs) but everything else is true.
- To the question of one of my colleagues: “Did you love Stalin then?” - you answered: “I still love him”...
I guess, yes.
- Hmm, what did you mean?
A certain image, of course, and the songs that we sang “about Stalin, wise, dear and beloved” are inseparable from it. Well, who could make people shout: “For the Motherland! For Stalin!" go to heroism, to death?
Now, however, when everyone knows how much the bloody leader has done, is he disgusting to you as a person, as a person?
It’s difficult for me now, after so many years, to judge what he did. During the Great Patriotic War, my relatives died - two of my mother’s brothers: Uncle Misha and Uncle Borya, and in 1943 they brought their shell-shocked father to a Moscow hospital, so they suffered a lot, but they also loved Stalin and also went into battle in his name , which was a symbol of Victory. You can now say as much as you like that the country won, the people won, but our military leaders did not carry out a single operation without the approval of the Supreme Commander-in-Chief.
You have repeatedly told me how, when you were very young, you were friends with such outstanding singers and actresses as Klavdiya Shulzhenko, Lidiya Ruslanova, Zoya Fedorova, but two of them served more than one year in Stalin’s camps and probably shared their impressions of this horror with you...
Moreover, Dima, at one time we traveled around the country with the popular program “Variety, Theater and Cinema Artists,” which was held at stadiums (it was directed by Ilya Yakovlevich Rakhlin - the kingdom of heaven to everyone I’m talking about!), and in the evenings, after concerts, gathered at the hotel. Artistic people love communication - today they call it get-togethers, but before it was just meetings, parties, and so I went to Lydia Andreevna Ruslanova, whom I called Barynya, and she called me Irish, and her friends gathered: Lyubov Petrovna Orlova, Klavdiya Ivanovna Shulzhenko, Zoya Alekseevna Fedorova - Bunny, as we dubbed her...
- Not a bad company...
Yes, and also Kapa Lazarenko, Lyusya Zykina... We had tea together, and I was there...
-...the only man...
- (Laughs). They personally gave me an old, old decanter from Tsarist times - then there was no such delicious vodka as there is now, so the Lady certainly insisted on it: in the morning she poured lemon peels into the bottle and put some berries in it. In the evening I spoiled the ladies with tea (and they gave me vodka) and in such an environment I was simply blissful - there were so many stories and memories! Do you remember when Nikita Mikhalkov’s film with Gurchenko “Five Evenings” was released? - but believe me, not a single movie fairy tale, even a talented one, can compare with those gatherings. Tata Okunevskaya also sat with us, although very rarely...
She also served time, who later wrote in her memoirs that they were raped in the camps, beaten, and mocked - they did whatever they wanted...
Nobody mocked them! - They performed concerts as part of artistic teams, but Lydia Andreevna, for example, herself told me why she was imprisoned and how she was warned. She, however, did not pay attention to these warnings, because Stalin loved her very much, and there was not a single concert in the Kremlin to which Ruslanova was not invited.
- She suffered because of Marshal Zhukov, right?
Not because of Zhukov, but because of Lieutenant General Kryukov...
- ...her husband - one of Zhukov’s closest associates, under whom, in fact, they were digging...
No, no, as they say in Odessa, you know everything, but not exactly. The fact is that when they were returning from Germany after the victory...
-...carried trains of trophies with them...
This is closer to the truth - they brought a lot of property, and this became the reason for Stalin’s anger... Well, again the question is: how to react to the decision of the tsar, who punished his generals for greed? It’s no secret that Zhukov gave the troops three days after the victory for robbery and revelry: they say, do what you want. Whatever you manage to grab is yours, but on the fourth day they will shoot you on the spot for looting, so they rowed everything: accordions...
-...services...
Harmonicas were all they could grab. Museums, shops, apartments were robbed, and three days later there was a lull and Berzarin, the commandant of Berlin, strictly ensured that there was no robbery and looting, but, of course, a lot was taken away. Well, what should we do? - this is war: the Germans, when they occupied our cities, robbed us, we answered them in kind...
“RUSLANOVA WAS RETURNED EVERYTHING THAT WAS TOOK FROM HER DURING THE ARREST - VALUABLE PICTURES, VERY EXPENSIVE JEWELRY”
Nevertheless, those who suffered from the heavy hand of Stalin, Ruslanova, Fedorova and Okunevskaya, were angry and scolded the leader?
No, and the same Lydia Andreevna was returned, by the way, everything that was taken from her during her arrest. I repeatedly visited her house near the Airport metro station: in her apartment hung the rarest, most valuable paintings.
- She loved antiques and diamonds...
Yes, she had very expensive jewelry. By the way, when Zoya Alekseevna Fedorova tragically passed away, there were rumors that she was killed in her own apartment, allegedly because of jewelry. No one has yet figured out why that terrible crime was committed, but for Ruslanova it was a completely different level.
- The people's favorite - of course!
Her first husband was the famous entertainer Mikhail Naumovich Garkavi (they were friends even after the divorce), then she married General Kryukov, and Zaichik was a modest, sweet woman who fell in love with the American military attaché (later Vice Admiral of the US Navy Jackson Tate). For dating a foreigner, Tata Okunevskaya suffered - “ cold war” was going on, and both of them became victims of a difficult political situation.
From the book “As before God” by Joseph Kobzon.
“One day at the Russian Arts Festival in Grozny, I went downstairs in the hotel and saw: my lady was sitting alone - sitting sadly. Me: “Oh, lady...” I rushed to her, kissed her, asked: “What are you doing here in the hall?”, and she answered: “I’m sitting and thinking, who needs it here?”
- What are you talking about, Lidia Andreevna!
- Nothing, killer whale, - no one met me, there is no hotel room: what can I think?!
- They were just joking with you, a separate room has been waiting for you for a long time! - With these words I grab her suitcase and take her to my room.
“So this is yours,” says Ruslanova.
“No, Lidia Andreevna,” I assure you, “this is your room, and the fact that I put my suitcase in it only indicates that I knew that you would come and live here...
- Oh, how cunning you are! You didn’t know anything because you asked below: why am I here?
“No, no,” I began to wriggle out, “I assumed that you would come, I just didn’t know that I would meet you so quickly.”
- Fine, fine. Now where are you going?
- I? To the market (I liked going to the market back then to buy fruit and various southern dishes).
- Then buy some berries, and by evening, Irish, I’ll prepare your favorite tincture...
I’m returning from the market and there’s a call: “You’ve put Ruslanova in your room, but we really don’t have any more rooms...”. Me: “Well, no, no, that means I’ll move in with one of my musicians - no big deal.” They went back and forth... - in the end, they found a number for me, but then the most interesting thing happened: “What should we do with Ruslanova? She’s like snow on our heads...”
“Do you really think,” I became indignant, “that she just came to Grozny with a concert?” Surely someone invited her and... forgot about it, so we need to come up with something.
They throw up their hands - they don’t know what to do, and then I called Tataev, their Minister of Culture: “Vakha Akhmetych, how can this be? Some of you invited such a great artist to Grozny, but did not meet her, did not provide her with housing or work...” Tataev was upset: “Now a concert trip is being prepared... It’s 70 kilometers from Grozny - let’s send her there.”
Me: “Well, how can you do this to her - send her to hell somewhere - and then her legs hurt. She can barely walk, gout has tormented her - after this move she will no longer be able to perform and will hardly be able to perform. You can’t carry it through the mountains!”
“Well then, I don’t know what to do,” Tataev thought. - Apart from your performance, there are no concerts in Grozny today.
“Let him perform in my concert,” I suggested.
I come to Ruslanova, bring fruits, berries, other food and say: “Lidiya Andreevna, at five o’clock you are leaving for a concert.
- Shall we go together? - asks Ruslanova.
- Of course, together.
We get into the car and arrive. Seeing my orchestra, Ruslanova asks the question: “Who else will sing with us?”
- Nobody.
- Like no one?
- Yes, just you and I will perform, so decide for yourself when it’s more convenient for you to go out: you want it at the end, you want it at the beginning, you want it in the middle...
- How long will you sing? - Ruslanova was puzzled.
- Don't know. Songs 25-28.
- How much?
I didn’t even think when I mechanically named these numbers, which corresponded to my solo concert...
- A-a-a... So, I'm in your entourage...
- No, Lidia Andreevna, what are you talking about? You are like a gift to your listeners!
Indeed, love for her was, as they say, popular. Once, while touring in Omsk, I, still a very young artist, was traveling from a concert by taxi. We started talking, and suddenly the taxi driver asks: “Have you seen Ruslanova alive?” “I not only saw her, but also performed many times with her in the same concert,” I answered, and then the touched taxi driver unexpectedly admitted: “But if they told me: you’ll have to die for seeing Ruslanova, you know, I I would, without hesitation, agree to go to my grave...”
Lidia Andreevna lived near the Airport metro station, and in 1973, my still very young wife Nelya and I came to visit her for tea. She already lived alone (though she did have a housekeeper), and the imagination of the guests was always struck by the paintings of famous artists hanging on the walls. My Nelya admired: “What beauty you have, Lidia Andreevna!”
“You can tell me the same thing, beauty is all that remains of beauty,” Ruslanova sighed. - They took everything.
I corrected her: “Lidiya Andreevna, not everything - after all, a lot was returned.”
- It’s called “returned” - if you could see how much they took!
For her, these paintings were truly spiritual food, and not what they are for very rich, but low-intellectual people who, without understanding anything, start collections of books, porcelain and paintings - Ruslanova collected everything, sorted it out, brought her to the painting and , like a true connoisseur, gave explanations and made subtle comments. She collected not for the sake of fashion, but for the soul, antiques, painting, jewelry and jewelry - all this was the fruit of her professional hobbies.
Until the very end, she expertly put on this or that rich jewelry - in connection with this, I remember the pictures of her preparing to go on stage. She said: “It’s time to get dressed (that means, get dressed) - come on, killer whale, go to your room, because I’m going to get into the safe now” - and pointed to her chest: the “safe” was on her chest. I left, she took out bags of jewelry from this “safe” of hers and began to dress up, and at the end of the concert everything happened in the reverse order. I knocked on her dressing room: “Lidiya Andreevna, are you ready?” - “Oh, how fast you are! Wait, wait, killer whale, I haven’t gotten over it yet” (this meant: I haven’t changed my clothes yet and haven’t put my jewelry in the “safe”), but what a swearer she was! - you will listen...
Her last days and funeral were very sad - by the way, this is the fate of most famous people. There are exact poems on this subject by Apukhtin “A Pair of Bays” - about the fate of a once popular actress:
Who will accompany her to the cemetery?
She has no friends or family...
Only a few
ragged beggars,
Yes, a couple of bays, a couple of bays...
I can’t say that few people saw off Lydia Andreevna on her last journey to Novodevichye, but, of course, incomparably fewer people than there would have been if she had passed away in those years when people went to her concerts far away. She was buried in the same grave with General Kryukov, one of her beloved husbands.
Having lived to an advanced age, Ruslanova did not have children with any husband - the owner of her richest inheritance was her adopted daughter, the daughter of General Kryukov. They had a good relationship, but for some reason Ruslanova’s grave is not well-kept... Of course, the state could do this, but even it has no legal right to own the grave, and no one except those who have such a right can take any action at the burial site...” .
I, Dima, do not argue: even if Stalin is a dictator, even if there is a lot of blood and suffering on him, but are the leaders of the so-called advanced democracies without sin? Look what’s happening now, what they’ve done to Libya! What right does another country have to come to foreign territory and impose its own order? - but before that people lived peacefully there...
“NOTHING ABOUT THIS “BE PREPARED!” THERE IS NO SHAME"
- So oil, Joseph Davydovich...
The reason is different - the desire to make the whole world dance to one’s tune, and it is very difficult for those living now to judge that period. Yes, older generation The Stalinist regime now condemns Beria’s crimes, but it also enthusiastically accepts the film where Lavrenty Pavlovich is praised. They scolded and criticized Nikita Sergeevich Khrushchev, and now there are television programs where he is praised...
- Go figure it out!
That's it, it's the same with Brezhnev... To be honest, I wouldn't idealize that time, but we loved our country, and today we don't seem to have despots...
- ...and we don’t put our Motherland in a penny...
When I meet with young people, I say: “You must help Russia. You can’t treat everything so selfishly: don’t go to elections, don’t think about what kind of power there will be, and remove yourself from responsibility for the future of your land. You have to love the country,” and suddenly one guy stood up: “Let her love us first!”
- I think there’s something in this, right?
-(Thoughtfully). There may be something... I’m not so highly patriotic, but I lived for many years: I saw the Stalinist period, and all the others, so I asked a counter question: “In your opinion, the country, as you just told me , should love you, but explain: why, what did you do for her? Do you consider it your merit that your parents raised you and gave you an education? Or maybe you accomplished a feat, defended your people, or worked hard, setting an example for everyone?”... Silence was my answer...
You know, after the separation Soviet Union the third decade has begun, Ukraine, Belarus, Kazakhstan and other republics sovereign states steel, but that highest spirit of patriotism that was inherent in Soviet people, of course, is not there.
Writer Alexander Prokhanov once said: “Three banners remained from the Soviet Union: the Mausoleum, Communist Party Russia and Joseph Kobzon” - do you agree with him?
No, I don’t feel like I’m a banner, but I have lasting values. We did not take into account, for example, that, parting with a great power, it was necessary to preserve a single organization for children - the pioneers, and nothing in this “Be prepared!” there is no shame: it is not necessary to be ready to fight for Lenin’s cause, but to fight...
- ...for the cause of Putin-Medvedev!
And at least that’s it! - yes, just to fight for better life, after all, a pioneer means the first, but we liquidated this all-Union organization, but we could have called it all-Russian. There was a Komsomol - with it, no matter what they say, almost all the exploits of the Great Patriotic War connected, and who restored the cities...
-...I raised Komsomol construction projects...
Did you build hydroelectric power plants and state district power plants all over the country? I won’t say that we lived so nicely, that we had no crime, no alcoholism, no drug addiction, no prostitution - everything happened!..
- ...and prostitution?
And she too, but these negative phenomena did not overwhelm society and did not turn into an epidemic. Naturally, there were shortcomings that the same Komsomol eradicated - he, in particular, fought to ensure that the guys did not become drunkards, that our beauties did not go to the panel... Today this is not the case, the younger generation was taken away (I’m talking about Russia now ) in political communal apartments, but they are all citizens of the same country. Neither we nor you have another homeland: Russia was given to us, Ukraine was given to you, and as a result, young people do not feel they are in demand. That’s why they think cynically: “Let the country love us first”...
However, we still don’t know our real history, and in my opinion, the meeting of actor Yevgeny Vesnik with the famous Marshal Timoshenko is very indicative in this sense. You once told me about it, but readers would probably also be interested in hearing...
No, Dima, this story is not for an interview. You are a provocateur! - I understand perfectly well that you can’t do without strong words here, although...
In general, a wonderful actor, People's Artist of the USSR Evgeniy Vesnik, served at the Maly Theater, and there was a period in his life when he was filming at Lenfilm every day: in the morning he came to Leningrad, rushed straight from the train to the studio, and worked there until lunch , and then returned to Moscow by daytime plane. Having played a performance in Maly, I boarded the Red Arrow express, in the morning I filmed again in St. Petersburg and went to the airport again - for a month and a half I was spinning like this, and I never bought tickets in advance: I came to the departure of the train, at best I gave the conductor a ten (they all already knew the actor!), and somehow they suited him.
And then one day he ran to the platform after the performance and heard: “There is no room.” - “How not?” - "No one". Two “Strelas” are standing - left and right, he is there, he is here - everyone just shrugs, and, seeing his throwing, one conductor whispered: “We have Marshal Timoshenko going to the NE here, but he is entitled to second place, so let’s move him there We can’t do anything for you.” The messenger begged: “Can I try to come to an agreement with him?” - "Well, let's".
Zhenya himself told me about this story. “I’m knocking on this SV,” he says, “I open the door: Tymoshenko is sitting. I’m in line: “I wish you good health, Comrade Marshal, Evgeny Vesnik.” He glanced sideways in surprise: “Who-who?” - "Artist of the Maly Theater." - “Ah-ah... So what?” - “You see, I have a shoot in Leningrad this morning, but there’s not a single place in the cast - you can even stand in the corridor. Would you allow me to travel with you?” The marshal responded: “Well, go ahead!”, and Evgeniy Yakovlevich, I must say, loved to drink, and in order to relieve stress after the performance, quickly fall asleep and show up for the shoot fresh in the morning, he always had a bottle of cognac ready. He immediately took it out: “Comrade Marshal, can I have a glass for making the acquaintance?” He nodded: “Yes please.”
- What an impudent actor, however...
No, he was just in a completely, so to speak, amazed state, and later you will understand why. “Comrade Marshal,” Vesnik admitted, “I am very fascinated by military history and remember how in 1940 you became the People’s Commissar of Defense of the USSR.” He looked at him approvingly: “Wow, well done, artist! You really do." Evgeny perked up: “Can I, since I see the Marshal of the Soviet Union alive, drink to your health?” Tymoshenko did not object: “Well, be healthy!”
When his throat had already been moistened, Vesnik continued the conversation: “Comrade Marshal, returning to that time... 47 days before the start of the war, speaking to students of military academies, Comrade Stalin said that the Red Army has such power that England and France are wiped out We can erase the land within three months.” - “Well, I did.” - “Why, when Germany declared war on us (well, of course, Hitler’s treachery, Stalin’s gullibility...), within three months the Germans were near Moscow?” - and he pours the second one. Tymoshenko takes a glass, looks at Vesnik... “Shall I say? Honestly?". - “Well, if possible.” - “Ah... knows him” (shows how he drains a glass).
Vesnik, however, does not let up: “Two years later, the Germans were already at Stalingrad, they had passed through half the territory of the European part of the Soviet Union - how did this happen, couldn’t we really get together and give them a worthy rebuff? Why did millions of people die? - "Say? Honestly?". - "Well, yes". - “Ah... knows him!” Bang! (she knocks back the glass again).
When the melody of the famous “Dugout” began to flow, Joseph Kobzon began to think. And... I missed the first line, “The fire is beating in a cramped stove,” and began immediately, “On the logs there is resin, like a tear...” But “Dugout” did not suffer from this - it turned out to be very sincere.
Before the broadcast, we offered Kobzon to record this and other songs. But he flatly refused: “I always sing only live!”
- Joseph Davydovich, you sing “Dugout” like that... You might think that you yourself experienced all this.
I remember the war from the first days. I was then four years old. We lived in Lvov. The German advanced very quickly, and my mother barely managed to put us three sons on a freight train and take us away from Lvov. When the train stopped, my mother ran to the station to fill the kettle with boiling water. And she fell behind the train. It was a tragedy! Mom is our breadwinner, we couldn’t do anything without her. And when she caught up with our train two days later and entered the carriage, we all cried. And she cried.
My own father went to the front in June 1941 as a volunteer. And immediately two of my mother’s brothers, Yakov and Mikhail, left. The brothers did not return from the front, they died... And in 1943, their father was brought shell-shocked and wounded to Moscow, to the hospital. At this time, our family was evacuated in Uzbekistan. And it turned out that my father never returned to us; he had a new family in Moscow...
- Front-line love, right?
No, not front-line love, it was Moscow love... Mom had three of us, and in 1946 she became involved with front-line soldier Mikhail Mikhailovich Rapoport, who had two children, and his wife died in ’43.
Along with a negative phonogram (recording of musical accompaniment) of war songs, Kobzon brought front-line letters from his relatives and old photographs with him to the radio.
This is us in the photo with my stepfather, whom I called father.
- And here you are, boy, with medals...
Well, these are his medals for the capture of Berlin.
- Did you really wear them right on the street?
No, my father only allowed me to wear them for photography. You know, such a childish show off.
“I SPEAKED BEFORE STALIN TWICE”
Alexander Ivanovich is calling you. Thank you very much, Joseph Davydovich, for never speaking badly about our past.
Do you know why I don’t write memoirs? It's very easy to lie in memoirs. Go check it out. How will you test me if I say that I spoke before Stalin twice? I also have certificates. In 1946 I sang at the Kremlin Theater. This was the final concert of the school amateur performances. And I represented Ukraine. Stalin, as I remember now, was sitting in the right box in a white jacket.
- And what did you sing to Stalin?
I didn’t sing to him - there was a full hall of people there. The first time I sang “Migratory Birds Are Flying” by Blanter, and the second time, in 1948, the song “Golden Wheat” by the same author.
- How did the leader react?
He smiled. He loved children very much...
- Did you also love Stalin then?
I still love him. I did not experience the tragedy that my compatriots experienced. And you can’t blame everything on Stalin. I think we need to blame the regime, the time and the system under which Stalin led the country.
- So you are a Stalinist?
In what sense?
- Well, don’t you go with a portrait of Stalin?
No, I don’t go with a portrait. But when, say, I did the program “The Road Home, from the Front, from Brest to Moscow,” there was a portrait of Stalin on our locomotive in front. After all, this is exactly how the winners returned from the front in May 1945. You say: well, Kobzon is a Stalinist...
- No, we just assumed.
Your guess was not entirely correct. I was just born in 1937, the bloodiest year. And today I think that we should not, we do not have the right to forget the exploits of the 30s - Chkalov, the Chelyuskinites, the Papaninites... Yes, today we are hurt and ashamed for some tragic pages of our history. So let’s tell our children about this too: children, it was bad, but the country lived, the country overcame this grief and evil and returned to good things.
“WE DIDN’T TEACH OUR PEOPLE TO APPRECIATE THEIR DEVOTS”
Victor from the Moscow region. I was at your concert in Chernobyl. For some reason, the Chernobyl topic is not covered at all, Joseph Davydovich. But 2011 marks the 25th anniversary. Or will we, too, as veterans of the Great Patriotic War, only be noticed and welcomed somehow on our 65th anniversary?..
Unfortunately, we have not taught our people to value their exploits. We have long been accustomed to astronaut flights. Twice the Heroes pass by - and we don’t notice them. Well, spent two years in space - so what?
The same thing happened with the Afghans. Gromov brought them from Afghanistan, and no one met them here - the way they greeted front-line soldiers at the Belorussky station. We treated our heroes the same way, who fought, I wouldn’t like to call it, but I have to, on the fronts civil war in Chechnya.
Chernobyl victims? And they were forgotten too. I asked the “Afghans” who liquidated the accident at the nuclear power plant, where was it more dangerous - in Afghanistan or in Chernobyl? They say: of course, in Chernobyl, because in Afghanistan we saw our enemy, we felt him, but we didn’t know how many of these x-rays we picked up in Chernobyl and what would happen to us tomorrow.
We remained ungrateful to our guys who Peaceful time showed miracles of courage and heroism.
“AND ONCE WE DID SHARE A FLAT BREAD FOR EVERYONE”
Savars Tigranovich is worried about you. Could you, together with other decent people, create a cultural space on the territory of the former USSR? We all miss each other...
The desire is great. I address this question to the commission on culture of the Commonwealth countries. I think they should do this. But I myself am not going to stand aside. I traveled with concerts through all the former Soviet republics - everywhere I felt nostalgia for those family values, which were during the times of the USSR.
Victory was brought closer as best they could by people of different nationalities, different republics of the former USSR. And now we call them guest workers... Doesn’t that offend you?
Well, Ukraine is my homeland, my country, and I come there and fill out documents as a foreign guest. I regret that I am not given the opportunity to perform in Uzbekistan...
- Who doesn’t? Islam Karimov recently came and spoke about friendship between peoples.
These are different things. But I am forbidden to perform there with a program. The two countries that prohibit me are the USA, where they signed me up as a “mafia”, and Uzbekistan.
- You were sheltered by an Uzbek family during the war, right?
Yes, in Yangiyul, in a small town near Tashkent, we lived in a simple Uzbek family. They had 8 children of their own and 7 of us. For everyone there is a small smeared house. And everyone fit in. Mats and mattresses were laid out on the floor, and we all went to bed in piles. And they shared with each other who had what. When mom managed to bring a flatbread or something else, they divided it among everyone...
"DON'T FORGET, DON'T LOSE..."
Some people doubt: are such grand Victory holidays necessary as they are now? What do we want to prove? What are strong? And to whom?
I think they are needed. Yes, if only in order to somehow quench the feeling of shame that in the 90s our front-line soldiers were embarrassed to put on military orders and medals and go out with them. And we were embarrassed to bow to them. But this is the conscience of two centuries - the 20th and 21st. There are so few veterans left. And they are leaving so quickly, tragically leaving us. And they take with them the memory of their exploits. And we have nothing left. When you talk to young people, they don’t know who Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya and Alexander Matrosov are.
- Come on…
No way! Go to any school and talk.
- Okay, this is a topic for us.
They don’t know who Alexey Maresyev is. I look these days - young people walk down the street with guards ribbons. Some people attach them to a car antenna, others just to a T-shirt... And the grand parade, and these little ribbons - all this is very important. Let the whole world know that we are proud of our Victory. And those who broke the back of the fascist beast and defended our freedom.
Yes, sure. I woke up from a terrible scream in our communal apartment. It was in the city of Slavyansk, in the Donbass. I knew what screams were like in a communal apartment when a funeral came. But then, opening my eyes, I saw that people were smiling, hugging and crying at the same time. I asked my mother: “What happened?” She says: “Victory, son!”
Kobzon sings "Victory Day". We notice that his fingers are trembling slightly.
The microphone is turned off. Kobzon carefully collects front-line letters and old photographs from the table:
When you reshoot for the newspaper, be sure to return it all to me. Don't forget, don't lose!..
We won't lose...
Prepared by Lyubov GAMOVA and Alexander GAMOV (“KP” - Moscow). Photo from the family archive of Joseph KOBZON
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