Oral memoirs (6)

Oral memoirs (6)
From the Collection of Phonological Documents named after. V.D. Duvakina

Publication date: January 15, 2004

In her memories of V.V. Mayakovsky ballerina I.P. Rachek-Degas , shares with V.D. Duvakin , the wife of the artist Nathan Altman, . The recording of the conversation that took place on December 9, 1976 is stored in the department of phonological documents of the Scientific Library of Moscow State University (item # 585 - 586).

The dancer of the Granovsky Jewish Theater, I.P. Rachek-Degas, had lunch in the dining room on Tverskoy Boulevard not far from the theater.

I.P. Rachek-Degas: Mayakovsky came there every day, and there we met him. And somehow he just liked young girls who were cheerful and laughing. You know, in general, when you’re young, what do we really need? - reckless! Well, he liked me, and he somehow treated me very tenderly and sweetly - but this is true for all of us, in general, girls. Then, that means, I remember Yesenin’s death .

V.D. Duvakin: Were you interested in Yesenin?

R.-D.: Yes, I liked him very much, I really loved his poems, but I never saw him, never. And so they said that his coffin stands in the House of Journalists. And there was just a little time free before the performance, and we, me and another girl, ran, literally ran there. And so we come running. I remember when I arrived, I was completely dumbfounded by this picture, which I will never forget in my life. Lying there is a young man - well, just like a boy, I imagined him much older - so blond, and he has such a tuft on his forehead - you know, a sleeping boy, young, young - well, not a boy, but a young man. And his mother stands at a distance from him. This is a sculpture of grief. So she has a scarf, I remember, a black one, buttoned up, pulled over her forehead, fastened with a pin, a black caftan or zhupan - I don’t know what it’s called. She stood with her hands folded like this on her chest, clasped like this, and looked, her lips pressed together, her thin lips pressed together like that. Not a tear - she just looked at him and shook her head. Like this. It was truly a sculpture of maternal grief. I looked at her - I got goosebumps all over my body from this, you know, such an expressive grief. And at a distance, so far away, a little to the side, they stood, that means, Meyerhold and Reich 1 . Reich played, in my opinion, because you can’t feel such grief, you know, you can feel it. She kept screaming "ah!" - and fell, then “ah!” - falls again into Meyerhold’s arms, he supported her all the time. And, you see, the contrast of this very real grief and the game was terribly unpleasant for me then.

And then we ran back to this dining room, I was impressed... I still remember this statue, this sculpture of a mother, grief. This sculpture did not move, it stood. It's scary, it's scary. And Mayakovsky was sitting there, writing something on his cuff. I ran up to him and said: “Vladimir Vladimirovich! You know, here...” - and I tell him everything. He listened to me and said: “So what? What a fool.” And then, that means, he continued to write something. We quickly ate and left. This is what I will never forget, this is it.

D.: And this “fool” was said in what tone?

R.-D.: Well, you know, somehow... He sat there looking kind of gloomy, kind of indifferent, or maybe he was in some kind of his own plans, I don’t know , it's hard for me to say. He said: “So what? What a fool.” Like this.

D.: Probably, then the poem “ To Sergei Yesenin ” was already born.

R.-D.: Perhaps, perhaps. Maybe he wrote this, it’s hard to say, I don’t know. In any case, he didn’t let me know about it.

D.: Well, I see.

R.-D.: I see, of course. Then, when Altman started courting me, Altman was just doing a production there, where we danced...

D.: Have you ever met with Mayakovsky here?

R.-D.: Well, we met there, but I didn’t see him often, very rarely. So I saw him and ran up and said.

D.: But still, you already knew each other .

R.-D.: I knew each other, but only briefly, briefly, but then, when Altman began to court me and all that, began to paint me, then Mayakovsky began to come often to us - there, to Altman ’s studio.

D.: This is when you already got married?

R.-D.: I wasn’t married yet, I just had an affair with him.

D.: But he went to Altman and at the same time, thereby, to you?

R.-D.: Well, of course. It was then, you understand, that he got to know me better, and, in general, as he said, he pitied me terribly, that I, in general, got involved with this... “old satyr” (laughs ) he called him . He kept trying to dissuade me from Altman: “Why do you need him, this old satyr?”, but all this was said in front of him. Well, then, that means he came often. I remember once Altman went somewhere to see someone for a birth, I didn’t know who he was or what, and Mayakovsky called and asked: “Kozlik, what are you doing?”

D.: Goat?

R.-D.: Kozlik, Kozlik. And he called him Kozlik, yes. He even composed - there is a quatrain in Altman’s album, he wrote to me and dedicated it: “goat’s” - something like that - “paws”, something like that. Unfortunately, I couldn’t save it, because it was in Altman’s album, and I didn’t get it, they didn’t give it to me. His widow had it left, she didn’t give everything to me... I don’t know, that’s her business, but apparently she didn’t want to. Well, it doesn't matter. So he called and said, “What are you doing?” I say: “I’m free today and sitting at home, reading.” He says: “Goat, I’ll come and you and I will go for a ride in the car, do you want it?” I say: “I want.” He came. Just at this time Altman was painting my portrait, which is now in the Tretyakov Gallery, and there was an easel and it was covered with a rag. He came, opened it, looked for a long time, looked. “Well,” he says, “the artist writes, but the poet also writes.” So he kept fighting me off Altman. Well, there we went for a ride, then he brought me home.

And then there was a similar incident, I remember, also with Mayakovsky. There was a family of Urechins, they lived somewhere in the Nikitsky Gate area, in this area, I don’t remember exactly where, very high, on the top floor. And just before that, I had broken my leg and was limping: I was already walking, but with a cane, I was still limping. And they had a masquerade, a masquerade ball, wearing masks. And so Altman sewed me a suit, he sewed the suit himself (wonderful suits, by the way, he sewed himself, wonderful): I remember such a red shield in front, so silky, shiny, and everything was trimmed with black lace, and the mask was black, and , in general, bare legs (well, I was in tights, of course). Altman dressed as a woman, took a costume from a drowned woman’s costume, such long rope hair, made of ropes, no one recognized him, of course. I said: “I won’t go, because, firstly, they will recognize me, because I limp, everyone will recognize me right away, and I will never be able to climb such a high floor” (either the eighth, or the ninth, something... it was very high). And this one says, Mayakovsky: “A goat,” showing his muscles, “what is this?” - speaks. I said: “Vladimir Vladimirovich, is it possible to carry me so high?” - “No, I’ll carry you!” And he, poor fellow, carried me in his arms. I say: “God! Poor, poor!” He says: “This is the only feather I carried.” And I was thin, thin, but still it was probably hard.

D.: To the eighth floor, right?

R.-D.: Yes, it was probably not easy. But when he arrived, he immediately went into the kitchen, someone else had gathered, and began throwing bones, playing, nothing else interested him. That's where he stood all evening and all night, playing with these bones. Well, we had fun there. [...] He always had bones with him that he played with. He was very gambling, and very superstitious, very much. He always tossed a coin and shouted: "Goat! Heads or tails?" - always had something in mind, always.

Then I had a meeting with him in Germany, when I was waiting for a visa from Altman: Altman was already in Paris - I was waiting for a visa. By the way, I was penniless; I then lived in a boarding house, there, everything was ready, and they were supposed to pay me the money I had earned, but I waited for them and sat without money - then I had to pay. So, suddenly they call me to the phone. I approach, they say to me: “Hello.” I say: "Hello." - “Well, how do you live here?” I say: “Who’s talking?” - “Well, she’s already become proud, she doesn’t recognize anyone, she doesn’t recognize her friends.” I say: "I'll hang up." - “Ko-zlik, what a shame!” Then I recognized him immediately, of course. I say: “Oh! Vladimir Vladimirovich, how happy I am that you are here!” Well, he says: “Get a taxi immediately and come to me.” Well, of course, I didn’t admit to him that I didn’t have money for a taxi. I came to his hotel - I see a picture: he is standing, which means he is tall, big, and a small tailor is trying on his suit. This reminded me very much, but in the opposite direction - then Altman made illustrations for Gogol in Paris, just the opposite was true: a small tailor and a big Akaki Akakievich. And here it’s the other way around: the big Mayakovsky and the short tailor who ran around him 2 . Well, he made a little joke about all sorts of fasteners, all that, and then, it means, he changed his clothes and said: “Well, Kozlik, today we’ll be running around the taverns all night.” I say: “This is interesting.”

First we went to lunch. And so I remember his phrase at dinner, I will never forget, he somehow opened up like that, spoke without jokes, without anything, and said: “You know, Kozlik, if they asked me what I prefer, the love of a woman or fame, I would choose the first one." I tell him: “Well, Vladimir Vladimirovich, you should be very successful with women, what are you telling me?” He says: “Goat, that’s not it. Well, you don’t understand anything yet.” I say: “No, I’m already big, I understand everything.” - “Well, let’s not talk about it, let’s have fun,” - like that. And so we went to have fun, as they say. “To have fun” - this means we went to see all these nightly dance halls, all sorts of nightly, well, what were they called... well, in general, these are taverns, in short, indeed, he was right, where, for example, the men were dressed up in women. Moreover, he was incredibly witty: he gave each or each (how to say, this is “every” or “every”, which is a man dressed as a woman) - he gave a name - to each, you know - and the same for women; This is so accurate, great! And so all night we wandered from one tavern to another. Well, then I saw these taverns for the first time in my life. Of course, I was very interested.

And the next day he left. He found out that I had no money, that I was waiting for money, he offered me everything, in general, money. Of course, I didn’t take it, I was very proud, I generally decided to live independently of neither men, nor my husband, nor anyone, but to work: all my life, it was I who promised myself that I would be independent - that I and really did it all my life. I said no". He says: “I’ll play billiards with the old man there.” And I knew that Altman had no money there. I knew why - because the wife of the actor Sokolov, who was there, came and said that Altman was sitting without money. I say: “Don’t worry. If you are going there, tell me that I will receive a fairly large sum, so there will be money.” But this was a period in which they had not yet sent him anything or something - in general, there was no money. Well, that's not the point. Then, when I arrived in Paris, Mayakovsky was there, and I remember how they played billiards. And he is terribly superstitious, and he thought that I was par bonheur 3 , that is, I should bring him happiness. And so he shouted: “Goat! Near me!” And he ran around the table, and I followed him. ( Laughs. ) “Goat, here! Goat, there!” It was very funny. Altman was wildly angry that I brought him happiness, he beat him. Well, that's how we had fun, as they say, it was very funny. Well, then he left. After that he came again, but it was much later; this is the last time he was - this is his, so to speak, affair with Tatyana 4 . [...]

Well, after that, of course, I didn’t see Mayakovsky again. I later found out there, being in Paris, that he, then, here... And I told one person - I imagined how it was: again, his passion, his... here is heads or tails. It happened, it happened. Here it is - to die or not to die.

D.: What a nightmare!

R.-D.: I’m sure, I’m sure. He believed it. Well, strange as it may seem, but this is true. He was very superstitious, gambling and superstitious, this also played a role.

Preparation of the text by D. Radzishevsky

Notes:

1 Zinaida Nikolaevna Reich (1894 - 1939) - actress of the Meyerhold Theater, ex-wife of Yesenin, later V.E. Meyerhold.

2 Not “the other way around”: the tailors are small, Mayakovsky and Akaki Akakievich (Altman’s drawing from 1933) are large.

3 Fortunately (French)

4 Mayakovsky’s acquaintance with Tatyana Alekseevna Yakovleva (1906 - 1991), a Russian emigrant in Paris, dates back to 1928 - 1929.