Read Online Last Call for Blackford Oakes by William F.; Buckley - Free Book Online

openness. Some were enthusiastic about the general secretary’s reforms, some cautious, some actively opposed. On the matter of what books to promote, some called for a return to “classic Russian writers,” others to “proletarian populism.”
    Blackford looked over the long memo, then put it down. He booked the clear phone line for a call to Gus.
    â€œWhat made you think I’d still be in the office, Dad?”
    It was endlessly amusing to Gus—and, actually, also to Blackford—to hark back, when in private, to the father–son relationship they had feigned the first time they worked together.
    â€œGus, I’m going to steer clear of the glasnost maelstrom, but here’s something I need advice about. The people I’ll be dealing with on the Gorky exhibit—which way do they lean? Toward glasnost, or against? I’m preparing a pitch, and that would be useful to know.”
    â€œI’ll dig into that.”
    Gus agreed that Blackford would do best to concentrate on Western masterworks of composition, “like Hemingway,” or collections, “like the Great Books.” They talked about other American authors. Gus had a list of individual books that had been vetoed in the past. “I’ll send those to you on the wire. Wouldn’t be a bad idea to tell the Gorky people I’ll be following you around while you’re in Moscow.”
    Using USIA facilities, Blackford sent letters to the U.S. head of the Gorky exhibit and to his counterpart in the Soviet cultural-affairs office. The letters advised these officials that Mr. Gus Windels of the U.S. Embassy, who was fluent in Russian, had been detached to assist him with the exhibit, and that he, Henry Doubleday, would be using as his office a suite at the Metropol Hotel, and would receive mail and messages there. He hoped to arrive in the next few days, he said, and to stay in touch with the operation until after the exhibit was opened in June.
    A few days later Henry Doubleday arrived at the Sheremetevo Airport.
    The activity there had begun to reflect the more open policies of glasnost and perestroika. It was twice as busy, Blackford Oakes reflected, as just one year ago. He had brought with him two crates of books, and he supervised, unhurriedly, the unloading of these, carefully labeling them for the official exhibit, before he got into a cab to go to the Metropol. The next, snowy morning, he met for breakfast with the U.S. head of the Gorky exhibit and his Soviet counterpart. They discoursed at some length on the subject of the exhibit, staying away from the heat of political concern over cultural relations. He would go the following day, he told them, to Gorky, traveling by rail with his assistant from the embassy, Mr. Windels.
    There was plenty of time to talk during the three-hour train ride over sparsely populated farmlands. The railroad car was of European design (“These cars were designed in Germany, built in France, and transported to Russia by the Nazis,” Gus informed him). Arrived in Gorky, they spent hours surveying the buildings in which U.S. technology would be featured and then the movie auditorium. The USIA guide took them to the area being prepared for American books. “It’s here, Dad, that you’ll be displaying The Federalist Papers and inciting the counterrevolution.”
    â€œQuiet, Gus.” Blackford looked about. He measured some distances within the U.S. quarters by taking his yard-long steps, while Gus smoked a cigarette.
    Back on the train that afternoon, Blackford asked about friction at the Politburo level. “Is the division between Dmitriev and Gorbachev completely healed? What about Dmitriev? And what have you pulled together on ‘the general’? We’re talking about Leonid Baranov, we have to assume. The single bit of hard evidence we have of the whore’s credibility is her use of the name Singleton. Since our talk on Monday,