December 1989: My month of living dangerously
By Bob Ford Special to
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Thirty five years ago this month the Berlin Wall came down, it changed the world, my world too.
I got the call in early December from Willian N. Walker, the U.S. ambassador for Bilateral Trade Agreements, who I previously had done other governmental work. He said, “pack your bags.”
Bill and his counterpart, Federal Reserve Chairman Paul Volker, had a global crisis on their hands when the Soviet Union abandoned the Wall, which no one saw coming. They also walked away from economic support for those countries behind the Iron Curtain.
My assignment was Czechoslovakia, it was straightforward, not covert.
“What products currently produced in Czechoslovakia would be accepted and could be shipped immediately to the West, helping to stabilize the country’s economy?”
I had 10 days.
Receiving all the proper “papers,” I traveled to Frankfurt, Germany, then by rail to Munich, entering Communist Czechoslovakia through the Sudetenland.
Other countries in the Eastern Bloc were going through similar welcomed upheaval. Just think of it, from being occupied one day by an oppressive foreign force to promised free elections the next. It affected every facet of one’s life: social, economic, education, security, politics, on and on. The challenge was the precarious period between government transitions that could be economically disastrous for each country.
This whole tidal wave publicly started when President Reagan traveled to Berlin in 1987, forcefully demanding the Soviet general secretary to “tear down this wall!” No one believed it could happen, but because of Russia’s internal economic turmoil, within two years the communist regime in the East would collapse like dominoes. Free democratic elections would soon follow.
The Soviets had worked hard at retaining their control over the Eastern Bloc, smashing demonstrations with tanks in 1953 East Berlin, 1956 Hungary and the Czechoslovakian Spring Uprising of 1968.
Mikhail Gorbachev was a new type of Soviet leader. His policies of perestroika (restructuring) and glasnost (transparency) were as shocking as they were welcomed.
The border crossing was my first taste of what was to come. German and Czech border guards stopped the train and interviewed each person individually, examining everyone’s “papers.” I was in a compartment with 6 to 8 people, armed men stood outside the door as questions in broken English were asked, it was unnerving to say the least.
After an hour or so the train pulled away with a small group of people standing outside the block house, they no doubt were denied entry. As we left the crossing there was an obvious feeling of relief from my fellow travelers.
The country side looked bleak, it seemed there was a slight grey mist hanging over everything, all greens were muted.
Once in Prague, I was met by the Embassy’s attaché Petr Clement. He described the wonderful chaos that had taken place just days before in the world capital. Students, as they have done throughout history, led the demonstrations that initiated the government collapse in Czech.
The country was dominated by the White Belts, state police that were everywhere, controlling the masses through intimidation and street brutality.
A week earlier in Wenceslas Square, Prague’s main park-like area, 200,000 students and peaceful demonstrators gathered, realizing what was happening in other Eastern Bloc countries and demanding change. The White Belts stood back. The next night 500,000 peaceful protesters filled the square, the White Belts were gone. What was later called the Velvet Revolution had taken place.
Petr described the night Alexander Dubcek — not seen for years — led the 1968 Spring Uprising and Vaclav Havel, the playwright turned dissident who would go on to become Czechoslovakia’s new democratically-elected president, appeared on a balcony speaking to the half a million crying, celebrating, dancing free Czech people. It was a moment in history.
I checked into the Hotel Paris, which was nearly vacant because it was a “Communist Hotel,” where Soviet diplomats and military brass would stay. The hotel had the feel of old Europe, 18th century architecture with modern features, very nice.
The next day, Petr picked me up. The Embassy had provided a list of manufacturing facilities and shops with items they wanted me to scrutinize. Not many products worked, they were all of eastern-European design, which meant heavy, industrial type items. Appliances, furniture, everyday sort of products that would not be welcomed by western consumers, sorry.
Each facility knew we were coming, I sensed their tension and felt sympathy for their undeserved plight.
Petr kept saying the National Arts Museum wanted help and needed a visit. The Museum sat stately at the top of Wenceslas Square. Beautiful, the vast 19th century building had no security, broken windows and sputtering furnaces but a collection second to none. Prague was the cultural arts center of Europe before Paris. After World War I that changed, but the city had an art vibe that was undeniable.
The country was a month away from its first democratic election, still very much in limbo. The White Belts and military had gone but where … and for how long?
One of the first acts the Russians performed as they took control was nationalizing all art. They confiscated collections from castles, chateaus and families around the country, housing them in several central communist museums. Now, the new regime was promising to repatriate the works back to their rightful owners.
That’s when the Getty Museum and their representative J.R. Jones — my future business partner — came in and where all our troubles began … to be continued.
