Memories of Ukraine (1966 and 2001)

by Rich Juro

The war in Ukraine stirred up our memories of Fran and my two visits to that beseiged country. The first trip to Ukraine was in 1966, over 55 years ago. We were on an extended journey to Europe for $5 a Day (now its almost $5 a minute!). We had  made arrangements in New York City where we were living for a visit to the Soviet Union for $15/day – but it included hotel, food, tours, and air fare. What a bargain! So we took the train from Helsinki, Finland, to Moscow, where we met our six fellow travelers. We took the train back to St. Petersburg (then called Leningrad), toured, then again to Moscow, and then we took the Aeroflot plane to Kiev, the capital of the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic.

My paternal grandparents had lived outside Kiev (now spelled Kyiv but I’m too old to change). At the time, Jews weren’t allowed to live in the city. In the 1890’s, due to a combination of the poor economic conditions, the Czar’s cruel rule, that the first male child had to serve 20 years in the army (and probably wouldn’t survive), and the Cossack terrorist raids on the Jewish community, my grandparents left for New York City. Hundreds of thousands of others emigrated from the Jewish Pale of Russia in those years. (My maternal grandparents left Belarus a few years later with my mother, who was all of 3 months of age and endured the steerage of the immigrants’ ship.) 

Kiev, in 1966, was a much more attractive city than the gray buildings of Moscow. Kiev’s streets, shops, and culture were Westernized way ahead of the rest of the USSR. The people were better dressed and seemed happier. We toured the city. Most of the churches were beautiful but had very few people in them due to the USSR official policy of atheism. The food was blah: we remembered that even the Chicken Kiev was the worst we had ever eaten.

Then we flew to Yalta, at the time part of the Ukraine due to the USSR leader Nikita Khrushchev’s giving Crimea to the Ukraine. Yalta was a Russian resort on the Black Sea. It was the site where FDR, Winston Churchill, and Josef Stalin met in February, 1945 a few months before WWII ended in Europe. Roosevelt was in ill health, and died two months later. FDR also wanted Stalin to help in the Asian war against the Japanese, and to join the forthcoming United Nations. Perhaps those reasons is why Roosevelt “gave” Eastern Europe to Stalin.

In 1966, we could sit in the chairs that the Big 3 leaders sat in, visit the hall they met in, and could “think their thoughts”. We drove down FDR Drive. And we visited the beach on the Black Sea that the Russian elite could take their vacation. We’ll always remember the stony beach at Yalta, the men in very brief bathing suits, and, especially, the overweight Soviet women who wore only their panties and bras. 

Fast forward from 1966 for 35 years. We returned to the Ukraine about 20 years ago for a river cruise down the Dneiper River. Ukraine was now an independent nation, and proud of it. Flying into Kiev, we again toured the city. It had even more color and elan than in 1966, and the magnificent churches, and the synagogue,  actually had people in them. We skipped the tour to Chernobyl, the nuclear reactor that  exploded in 1986. Hundreds were killed in Ukraine and nearby Belarus, but tens of  thousands lived but were affected by the radiation. It was the biggest nuclear disaster yet and occurred before Ukraine got its independence from the USSR in 1989.

Instead of Chernobyl, Fran and I asked our guide, Ivana, to take us to Babi Yar. Ivana readily agreed, and one other person went with us. Babi Yar is a ravine on the outskirts of Kiev. In September, 1941, shortly after the German Army conquered the area, the Einsatzgruppen (mobile killing units of the Nazis) rounded up the Jews in the area, marched them two miles to Babi Yar, had them strip, and killed them with rifles. The dead bodies were stacked on each other in the ravine. Over 33,000 Jews were murdered in two days at Babi Yar!

When the Germans were losing the territory in 1943, they attempted to cover up the mass murder by burning the bodies. Fifteen of the concentration camp workers, who were conscripted to help, escaped and lived to tell the grisly story. When the Soviets reconquered Kiev, the mass execution became known. But after WWII, Stalin’s anti-Semitism policy hid the public knowledge of Babi Yar. Even after Stalin’s death, the coverup continued until some intellectuals publicized it in articles, books, and especially the poem by Yevgeni Yevtushenko in 1961:

No gravestone stands on Babi Yar;

Only coarse earth heaped roughly on the gash;

Such dread comes over me.

(Update: Not until 2021 was the memorial center at Babi Yar dedicated. A Russian missile damaged it in 2022.)

The next day we boarded the river “cruise ship”. It was made in Russia, was in a deteriorating condition, and held about 70 passengers. The rooms were tiny, and the bathrooms were  even smaller. Because we had a deluxe room, we had a shower in the bathroom, but the water came from the ceiling in the middle of the tiny bathroom, and drained out on holes cut in the floor. The captain and sailors were from Russia, and I was afraid to look at the engine room for fear of what I might see.

The passengers included 25 young people from a company in Moscow. They slept all day and  partied every night with the loud music on the open third deck. Fran went up see what was going on. She danced with one of the Russians, and he was happy to dance with her until in the dim light he realized Fran was old enough to be his mother. Thankfully, the Russians disembarked after five days, and we could sleep at night. 

Another passenger was Richard, the head lawyer for the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. He was about to welcome his fiance, a blond Ukrainian woman named Katrina whom he had met on the Internet. Katrina was not interested in Ukraine’s sights  or politics; she was only concerned when they would get married and move to Lincoln. Eventually they did, and as far as I know they said conjugal vows in Nebraska. I read that Richard retired a few years ago and as far as I know, they’re still in Lincoln. I don’t know if Katrina or Richard are concerned with the current war in Ukraine. I hope they are.

We sailed down the Dneiper River, stopping at some small towns and larger cities. It was all interesting to us. On the fourth day the tour director left the ship, saying “he had to go to Moscow”. That left four young Ukrainian ladies in charge of us voyagers. They were inexperienced but very nice, and spoke passable English. Not a problem, except one day Fran and I wanted to go explore ashore on our own. One of the young ladies said: “You can’t go alone.” Finally, another one said, “Do you know what you’re doing, and you realize the ship sails at 4 pm?” We said “yes”, and so they left us off the ship. Fran and I walked around the town, ate some local goodies, brought some back for everyone, and returned in plenty of time. Two of the four new tour managers had grown up in Kiev, young girls when Chernobyl exploded. They were both worried about the nuclear radiation, especially about how it would affect their future health, whether they could have babies, and if their babies would be healthy.

After several days the Dneiper River emptied into the Black Sea. We sailed by the Crimean peninsula, including the “closed” city of Sevastopol. The reason it was “closed” was that the Soviets had a large naval base there. Then we got to Yalta. This time we couldn’t sit in the Big 3 chairs, the rooms were roped off, and we didn’t see the beach to view whether the Ukrainians and Russians were still wearing the minimal bathing suits. But its still called FDR Drive, and there’s many dachas (second homes for the Russian elite) in and around Yalta. (Note: Following the invasion of Crimea in 2014 by Russian troops, Yalta is administered by the Russian Federation.)

Then we sailed back on the Black Sea until we reached the city of Odessa. The third largest city in the Ukraine, Odessa is  a port, cultural, and industrial hub. It was founded in 1794 by Catherine the Great as a warm weather harbor. Immediately we saw and climbed the famous Potemkin Stairs, 192 very wide steps leading up from the port to the main boulevard.  On a tour, we saw the magnificent opera house, and outside the city the famous writer Pushkin’s house. 

After a couple of days in Odessa, we re-boarded our ship, sailed up the Dneiper, stopped at a couple of towns, and finally ended our journey in Kiev again. We will never forget the warmth of the people, the vistas, and the past and present history of Ukraine. Beyond that, we hope that the independence of Ukraine and the Ukrainian people will thrive for years and years.