From Tatyana Timofeevna’s notebook “Our genealogy: the Samsonovs”. First person. [?] = unclear.
(notebook leaf; show-through of a neighboring entry on the right)
Meeting with the film director Ludovkin[?]. (the handwriting is read stably as “Ludovkin”; the first letter could theoretically be “P” — do not merge with other people without confirmation)
“I dwell on him only because
in his fate I took the most[?] / more[?]
part. It concerns the death
of the director Zarkhi. In connection with the jubilee
of Soviet cinema the Government a-
warded Ludovkin[?] a car.
He learned to drive, and
on one Sunday together
with Zarkhi drove along the Yaroslavl
highway to Pushkino. Not reaching Ob[’?]yan-
kino[?], Ludovkin[?] began to overtake a
lorry. The shoulder was
very high. Ludovkin[?] left the
asphalt and overtook the lorry on
the shoulder. Having overtaken, Ludovkin[?] wanted
to drive back onto the asphalt, but did
so so unskillfully that his
car overturned; Zarkhi fell
under the front wheels, was
badly hurt and within 2 hours he
died. The catastrophe undercut
Ludovkin[?] so that
he began to talk wildly.
There was fear that he would go mad.
In order not to lose a talented
director, I took Ludovkin[?] to
my dacha, at Serebryany Bor
and kept him there about 3
weeks, until he began to come
to himself. That he was at
my dacha was known only to his
wife and the investigative authorities, with
whom it was agreed that
[continuation of the quotation — p. 059]
(further on the same page — a separate episode about mushrooms with Father; possibly the same leaf / lower part)
Papa taught me to find my way
in the wood. He would say: “Watch the sun.
You enter the wood and look in which of[?]
the sun shines on you.” So I a little
learned to find my way in the wood.
Having gathered mushrooms and returned home
Papa said: “We sort the mushrooms:
which to dry, which to fry.”
And all sat round the table and
cleaned mushrooms. And to Papa first Mama
[served? / cleaned?] the mushrooms. Even in the last
year before his illness Father often went
for mushrooms. And then we all
continued this tradition.
(on the right of the leaf — fragments/show-through, partly readable: mentions of a director, a writer, a scenario, mushrooms; continuous connected text is not restored without invention)
(almost empty leaf; end of the previous quotation)
…Ludovkin[?] will not be
subjected to any interrogation. The investigation
established that the accident
occurred exclusively through the fault
of Ludovkin[?].”
(From Father’s recollections.
See his notebook).
Meeting with the film director
Ludovkin[?].
[…] only because,
[…] took […]
[…] about the death
[…] Zarkhi. In connection with the jubilee
[…] the Government a-
[…] a car.
[…] the car, and
[…] Sunday together
[…] along the Yaroslavl
[…] Pushkino. Not reaching Ob[’?]yan-
[…] Ludovkin[?] began to overtake a
[…] The shoulder was
[…] Ludovkin[?] left the
[…] the lorry on
[…] Ludovkin[?] wanted
[…] unskillfully that his
[…] overturned. Zarkhi fell
[…] wheels, was
[…] within 2 hours
[…] The catastrophe undercut
[…] Ludovkin[?] so that
[…] talk wildly,
[…] that he would go mad.
[…] talented
[…] Ludovkin[?] to
[…] at Serebryany Bor
[…] about 3
[…] until he began to come
[…] That he was
[…] known only to his
[…] investigative authorities, with
[…] it was agreed that
(repeat frame of the same entry; no new facts)
to the business of filming he took a very seri-
ous attitude. He always looked serious and
Father never once saw him laughing.
Conversations with him were substantial and,
[potakai? / perhaps?], edifying.
Romain Rolland — French writer.
These meetings too were connected with
the writing of screenplays. Father met with
him several times. In the film On
the Leninist Process Romain
Rolland appeared in several episodes. Just
as with Henri Barbusse, Rolland conducted
himself very seriously. His wife was Russian
and they conversed through her.
Ilya Ehrenburg
He came to Father at “Mezhrabpomfilm”
(Likhov Lane, house 6) to the directorate about
filming one of his works.
They talked, but a picture from his screenplay
did not come about.
Papa described the meeting with M. Gorky in de-
tail in his recollections.
Mushrooms.
Papa very much loved to gather mushrooms,
knew how to gather them and knew the mushroom places
near Moscow. And he infected all of us
with this love of mushrooms.
Very often we went for mushrooms
to “Nagornoye.” This was a rest home
[one-story?]. There at the edge of the wood we found
2 large white mushrooms and he could not
pull them out. He had to break
the mushroom, and [with?] a basketful himself.
Papa taught me to find my bearings
in the forest. He would say: “Watch the sun.
You enter the forest and look in which of[?]
the sun shines on you.” So I a little
learned to find my bearings in the forest.
Having gathered mushrooms and returned home
Papa first sorted the mushrooms:
which to salt, which to fry.
And everyone sat around the table and
cleaned mushrooms. Afterward I little
[marakovala? / knew about?] mushrooms. Even in the last
year before his illness Father often went
for mushrooms. And afterward we all ourselves
continued this tradition.
Father oriented himself very well
in the forest. With him it was never
[lost?]; I always ran after him like a dog[?]
he would say to me: “Go wider, go
beyond those bushes, and I like a shadow
beyond them. And even as an adult I could not
[?] remain alone in the forest. When
our acquaintance the forester said: “
don’t go farther, there is a forest of peo[ple?].”
Once Papa went on a business trip
to Leningrad and took Tyoma.
They stopped at some ho-
tel[?]. Tyoma was already a teenager and [?]
[?] with [sailors?]. He took
[?] about the city, walked somewhere.
Then he comes to his room.
Papa told him if he further
[?] and something else, then [?]
and they will bring it to your room. [?]
Only [?] very [loudly?] and [?]
[?] drank hot water from under the [tap?].
Twice our parents (Mama [with us?])
[took?] us to the Crimea, to Foros. One year we
went with Tyoma and [Zhenya?]. [We rode?]
toward Foros, passed the Baydar
Gates and straight [drove?] into the [Foros?]
monastery. Mama told:
the monastery stood on a steep cliff.
Tyoma went right to the edge
of the precipice [throwing?] down [?] [?]
and shouted: “The nuns are jumping!”
Mama’s heart [stopped].
The next year Mama [took?]
me to Foros. The park around [?]
the house [was?], [fountains?], pools.
As soon as we arrived I rushed
into the park and at full [tilt?] ran
[almost?] fell into a pool.
We caught crabs. Crabs [lived?] [?]
[in?] [?], and we [put?] them
in [an aquarium?], where [an ant?] [?]
[?] [?] [?] [?] [?]
They left us [a garden?], which
they brought to Moscow.
[Near?] Foros was [?]
[?] [?] [dacha?] of the Gorelye. We [?]
went [?] [corner?]. We went
to Sevastopol, where they showed us
the Panorama of the Defense of Sevastopol
(this was still before the war).
Once Tyoma was sent to
[insert / marginal note in the margin (pencil/paper):]
Samsonov T. P. Zab. “Wonders” Uk., 1919 — [accents?]
[overthrown? / cert.?] VKP(b) 10.XI.1930. [?]
He was well outfitted; they sewed a new [suit?].
He went, wrote letters, was pleased.
But then the time came to return and
we set off for Kursky Station
to meet him. It was early morning and
rainy and cool. The train arrived and
our Tyoma comes out with a suitcase
and in trousers for sleeves. It turns out
almost part of his things had been stolen,
and they issued him trousers (“jubilee” ones
because that year the anniversary of [a construction project?] was marked).
And on the platform we saw a boy:
he was in shorts, and in his hands
he had a [little suitcase?]. In this
[little?] he had a bay leaf[?].
Someone was meeting him.
I remember how once in childhood I fell
on the staircase in the entrance and hit my nose
face on a step and broke my nose.
Mama was at home; when she opened
the door she felt ill: blood was pouring
from my nose in a fountain. Fortunately
someone was visiting Mama.
They helped Mama. They laid me on
a couch, head down, and applied
cold. They called a doctor. The doctor looked,
but could say nothing because my
nose was like a potato. The
next day Papa took me
to the Kremlin Hospital on Granovsky Street and
Vozdvizhenka. Apparently they did an X-
ray on me and decided to operate.
The operation was done by the then
famous Professor Rauer. They took
me into the operating room, gave me anesthesia
and I remembered nothing. I only
woke up in the ward, and also [was sick?]
(I was about six). And all the time
I called for Papa. The nurses thought I had
[?] [little?] and [pitied?] me.
But by evening Mama arrived [?]
they put a bed next to mine
and so Mama was with me the whole
time. When they took me for dressings
I was very afraid of the anesthetists and asked
the professor to do the dressing without anesthet-
ists. [Once?] they [?] [?]
In hospital they often gave me ice
cream. Tyoma came to me [?]
[?] and of course [?] [?]
And then it turned out he had fallen
ill with angina. My nose came out
normal, even handsome. When my brother
in childhood teased me that I had
a rubber nose.
We often went to the rest home “Nagornoye.” There
it was very cozy; the house was
small, one-storey. There we met
many interesting people: Em. Yaroslavsky
[Bogreevsky?] and others. I did not remember them.
Once Mama and I were at the rest home
“Valuyevo”; there we became acquainted with
the [Kortishchev?] family. With Natasha we
still keep up friendly
relations although we live in the same house.
There was a rink there and I very much wanted
to learn to skate.
I stamped the ice. Having taken
2–3 [steps?] I fell. But here appeared
some man; he took me by the hand
and began to teach me to skate. As I later
learned, this was Rosenthal (in
1937 he was a people’s foreign-trade agent)
A little about Papa’s character:
he was a purposeful man who
believed in his cause. Not for nothing did he
give much strength to the building
of Soviet power. He was very principled,
honest, decent, modest,
a strict man, kind, with a sense of
humour.
He loved the family, the children, his wife. But
once he said “no”; he did not change
his decision. When I was already a schoolgirl,
I asked him for something; he said to me:
“No. Don’t be a Gypsy!”
When Papa was Administrator of the affairs
of the CC — 2 cars were assigned to him.
The driver of one was a modest man;
his surname was Novikov. (As I
already mentioned, one summer his
family lived with us at the dacha.) At our place
someone always lived on the 2nd floor:
the Pavlinovskys, Pastukhov, Metelin, Verich[?].
Papa always watched that one must not fence
oneself off; he was for public dachas,
the garden, and so on.
But only he could use the cars.
Mama could not allow herself
to take a car and go to the dacha.
Driver Novikov would say: “Eva Konstantinovna,
let me drive you to the dacha; you have
small hands, it is hard.” Sometimes Mama
agreed, but asked to be left
not at the bus stop; she walked the rest
to the dacha on foot, because she feared the children
would see the car and tell Father.
Mama told that [some?] [?]
from the North sent Father as a gift
caviar and red fish. Papa told
the messenger that he had asked for nothing
and asks for nothing and cannot accept
the parcel. The messenger says: “And what am I
to do with this parcel?” Father answered:
“Take it back to the one who sent you.”
At that time there was a short[?]age of prod-
ucts, and Father was given orders.
Once he brings home 2
[?] from the order and says to Mama:
“Here are 2 [tins?]: one from the OGPU, and the other
from the CC. Choose. You may take only one.”
However much Mama wanted 2, she could not
do that for herself. She knew that Father
would not allow it.
We were not spoiled with food or
clothes. Cheese and sausage — for holidays. Can-
dies too. Grandmother cooked a great deal
of jam; that is what we ate. Fruit
was given us; Grandmother gave it (she
ran the household). In the evening when we
went to bed and asked for [more?], she
[?] to us and to each gave either
a tangerine or an apple. And so dinner
was: soup, a second course and something for a third.
Every Sunday Grandmother baked
pies (and [especially?] she baked magnificently).
We especially loved the pies with
potato, because those were
Papa’s favorite pies.
I remember once in the 5th grade for
conduct for the week I was given
“mediocre”; this was terrible, because
I studied well and never re-
ceived bad marks for conduct. I
in every way [?] [begged?] from school
without [a package?] not to the embankment[?] during
recess, how [?] and [describe?]
the mark for conduct. I did not know how
to tell my parents about this. I under-
[signed?] [?] in the diary [?]
my parents in the diary [?] [?]
I [?] and signed myself. A week
later Papa, looking through my
diary, saw something [signed?]. He
asks Mama: “Who signed this?”
I quickly answered: “Mama.” He [saw?]
that it was not Mama’s signature. I
had to bring out everything as it was.
Father did not scold me, but only said:
“Never do any[thing?] like that again. That
is your forged signature.” With that it
ended… without shouting, without mora[lizing].
I understood.
Often Papa would come up to me and
say: “Good girl. Samsonov
character” and kiss me on the nose
but, unfortunately, I do not altogether have
a Samsonov character; I do not [have
enough?] of his firmness.
Outwardly I resemble him.
In childhood Papa often told
us about his homeland, about his child-
hood. In the evening in the garden we would sit
on a bench, and Papa would begin his sto-
[ry?].
It is known that Father came from Bess-
[ar]abia (now Moldavia), the village of Mikhaylyony;
it was a Ukrainian village. We never
knew either his father or his mother or
his brothers or sisters. So he left
his native parts (but not of his own will)
somewhere in 1908–10. After the revolution
Bessarabia went to Romania, and he
was no longer in his homeland. “After
the [Patriotic?] war we as if thought
of going there, but for a time there [were?] [other?] [?]
For Father it was as if not to change
relatives, taking into account his
[?] (Cheka, CC, Comintern[?].)
Only he told us that [his?]
[mother?] was named Elizaveta.
He told much about his [childhood?].
The family was poor; his father [?]
They had a small house by the river
and they had a large dog “Kov-
[?].” So we remembered him. The forest [?]
[?], Papa told how in the evening
a tired peasant on a horse, and
[?] behind them. The road into the village [?]
many of their houses. Only when the peasant
[grew tired?], the dog would seize the horse by the tail
with its front paws braced [with claws?]
against the hind legs and stop [?]
[?] [shouts?] at the horse, beats
[?], and the horse stands. [?]
he sees that [the dog?] is [to blame?] [?]
He gets off the horse, drives off [the dog?]
[?] onto the horse. And the dog again
will not let the horse go. So several times.
Then he sang us Ukrainian
and other songs. “The Dnieper roars and groans, [?]
[?]” And then he sang songs that [he knew?],
[from?] the events of that time: the airs
of Port Arthur, the Tsar’s manifesto, [songs?]
[insert in the margin:]
[?] 10.XI.1930 [VKP(b)?]
Samsonov [T. P.?] [Zab.?] “Wonders” [Uk.?], 1919 — [accents?]
(Leaf shown in readable orientation; text continues below.)
of students. I remembered some of them:
“Hey, sailors, on!..” Or [they sang?]:
“Hey, our Fatherland, hey,
Port Arthur is yours no more…”
The Tsar’s manifesto: “They set the peasants free
on 19 February,
Only they did not give the people liberty
Here is the mercy of the nobles and the tsar for you.”
Student unrest;
(Student demonstra-
tions then were dispersed
by Cossacks)
“And let the Cossacks rejoice,
Let them thrash them with nagaikas
Beat harder, beat harder
And put them in prison!”
On the rule of Nicholas II: “Witte rules, rules
Both right and left, Hard[?]
I myself sign,
I, bloody Nicholas.”
We listened with interest to his stories, for
these were the stories of an eyewitness. We long
sat side by side, then looked at the starry
sky, and Papa showed us the stars.
Papa had a good voice and ear. He sang
beautifully.
As I already wrote, Mama fell very seriously
ill: she often lay in hospital,
then she was sent to a sanatorium; long
she was [in?] [?]. Mama and Father
did everything possible to cure her.
Especially Mama. Mama always did everything
possible to help.
She too loved to sing; she had a good
voice and a good ear.
Mama told (Father was still Administrator
of the CC)
that once at night the telephone
rang from the “Kremlin Hospital” (teleph[one?]). Papa
asked, at first understanding nothing, [took?]
[?] paper and pencil and began to
write: “Dictate, Alliluyeva…”
Mama says to him that this is Stalin’s wife.
It was late at night, when Alliluyeva
became pregnant. They called Father so that
he would arrange everything as required.
Events at Lake Khasan. Having read the report
of the Japanese attack on our territory
Father took it very agitatedly. He
ordered that the events be followed, made
cuttings from the newspapers on this subject,
(I think he kept some of them
In our garden there was a swing, [on an iron?] rod
and on [two?] boards. There [?] they tied
[ropes?], but Temka all the same [sat?] [?]
the swing was not strong, [and it?] col-
[lapsed?]. [?] and with this [?] fell
to the ground, [?] [ran?],
not [?] with his hand, broke [a finger? / his hand?].
They quickly informed the parents; [they?] came,
took him, drove him to [hospital?], where they put
a cast on.
1937–1938.
Having read in the newspaper [the report?] of the “trea-
son” of Tukhachevsky, [Yakir?] and others,
Father was very [indignant / agitated?]. He [altogether?] could
not understand this. [Then?] [began?]
the arrests of many of his [comrades?]
with whom he [worked? / was friends?],
working in the Cheka, their [?] [?] and others.
Employees of the Cheka–OGPU were arrested;
to Father they [slipped? / submitted?], but they did not [touch?] him alone.
Mama told [that when she was?] in Sereb-
ryany [Bor?] at night [?] [?] a car
is coming [?]. She [thought?] it was to us.
Only when [the car?] [?] was passing,
it stopped for some [time?].
In 1938 Father was removed from work,
and he was [without work?] [several?] months [?].
Then Shcherbakov [then secretary?] of the Moscow Committee
made Father director of [?]processing
indust[ry?].
And my brother and I, having come to Moscow, went round
all our [acquaintances?] and visited as many
flats [?] [?] further; we
reported these [addresses?] to Mama. There was [?]
sealed [?] [?] flats in
our entrance.
Father and Mama all that time [lived?]
as under a sword of Damocles. When he
goes out, [?] [?] were arrested
good comrades, still from the times
of exile: Boris [Sanilov? / Sanilin?], Metelin and others.
And also his comrades from the front,
from work in the Cheka: Pavlinovsky, Ivan [Beryozin? / Beryozov?],
Mirov, Belinsky and others.
Father, apparently, could not take this in.
He changed greatly, became silent.
Then he was [?] deprived of certain
privileges: the canteen, the polyclinic, and others.
Mama told him to call and find out
what the matter was. He called so-and-so and so on;
they did not do this for Father. Later, after
many years he confessed to Mama that he
did this so that his surname
would cease to be mentioned in those lists.
Yes, Father in this [?] was lucky: he is
one of the close associates of F. E. Dzerzhinsky
whom this terrible ma-
chine did not swallow.
I remember this: it was in the days of Lenin’s memory
and our [?] leader asked who
of our parents had met Lenin
and whether he could tell
the pupils about these meetings. I asked
Papa and he promised to come to our
gathering. I was very nervous. Papa
came; he was dressed in a semi-military
suit, with orders. He [?] [?]
[?] and very interestingly told
us about his meetings with V. I. Lenin.
[I?] [liked?] it and I was very proud of
my father.
Papa always had a bent for
history, literature. He himself wrote
verses (they have been preserved to this day),
[?] wrote a novel “Razm[?]stvo,” but it
was not published; he was always
busy (his affairs); he wrote much,
read and in general nourished an enormous
love of the book.
He gave many years to the book business.
He was director of the publishing house
of the Academy of Sciences, was director
of the film studio “Mezhrabpomfilm” (this is con-
nected with the Comintern), worked at the In-
stitute of Marxism-Leninism of Marx and Engels, [worked?]
in [?] his last place of work —
Ispolkom[?]izdat.
Papa very much loved flowers. In our flat
all the windows were filled with flowers; he
himself looked after them, watered, re-
potted, and in spring and summer on
our balconies there were flowers and even
tomatoes.
Papa very much loved children and knew how to deal
with them. Always even, calm
but firm, and sometimes also strict. He
occupied himself a great deal with my elder
son. They played much, traveled
about Moscow. Papa told him
a great deal. I found it interesting with him.
Type: manuscript on squared paper (notebook).
In 1951 he showed me a notebook in which
he had begun to write down his recollections of
his meetings with outstanding people of that
epoch.
I said to Papa: “Why don’t you
write a book about this?” He answered:
“Now is not the time. Now is not the time.”
So he never managed to tell much
of what he knew and had seen, and he had seen much,
for he found himself at the center of the greatest
events.
The notebook which he showed me in 1951
lies before me now, and
I seem to hear his voice narrating
to me those events.
He met V. I. Lenin. Several times
Papa listened to Lenin’s speeches at various
meetings. He first met
Lenin in the winter of 1920–21 (about this
memorable meeting it was published in
the collection They Guarded V. I. Lenin.
The second meeting with V. I. took place in March 1921
during the Comintern Congress in an official
setting in the Kremlin” (see Papa’s notes in
the reserved notebook.)
Meetings with I. V. Stalin.
It was at the end of 1918 and the beginning of 1919. The 3rd Army,
where Father was head of the Special Department,
was catastrophically retreating. And then to the town of Glazov,
where the army headquarters was, arrived I. V. Stalin,
F. E. Dzerzhinsky. Father was summoned to headquarters,
where he became acquainted with F. E., who de-
manded that a number of needed infor-
mation be provided to him. There he also saw Stalin for the first time.
(see Papa’s notebook)
Meetings with F. E. Dzerzhinsky
The first meeting took place in Glazov. From the very
first meeting, as Father wrote, complete mutual understanding
was established between him and F. E.
Father worked with F. E. from 1919 until
F. E.’s death itself in 1926. Father had to
work with F. E. not only along the Cheka line,
but in the People’s Commissariat of Railways, in the Supreme Council of the National Economy of the USSR. His method of
work — burning! Besides that F. E. was
strikingly honest, never bent his soul,
he was knightly objective. “I never
wept and do not weep, but when I had to
throw a spadeful of earth onto F. E.’s coffin I
wept.” Papa sincerely loved this man.
(see the interesting recollections in Father’s notebook
The sentence breaks off at the lower edge of the page. No continuation was found in the available leaves.
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