Russian Rubbernecks

Few things are more likely to make the U.S. citizen walk a mile with a smile than a chance to get a look at a real, live Russian: he gawks at them with the same delighted curiosity his grandfather turned on for Barnum & Bailey's wild man from Borneo.

Last autumn, members of the Virginia State Chamber of Commerce were thrown into a state of delighted anticipation by news that 1) two Soviet aviators had flown a stolen Russian plane to Linz, Austria, and taken refuge with U.S. forces there, and 2) that each had voiced a desire to see, not Hollywood or the Statue of Liberty, but the Commonwealth of Virginia. They had heard its glories sung on a Voice of America broadcast beamed to the U.S.S.R.

Excitedly aware that such prime specimens would attract more publicity than Gargantua and His Mate, Virginia go-getters set out to bag them. Last week, after negotiations with the State Department and the armed forces, Virginia was rewarded. The Russian airmen, blond, 32-year-old Anatoly Barsov, and black-haired, 29-year-old Piotr Pirogov, were delivered to the U.S. for a grand tour of the Old Dominion.

Khaki Shirts & Candor. They landed at Washington's National Airport wearing black suits, khaki Army shirts, tan Army shoes, bluish felt hats and the look of men who will not be taken in by city slickers. They smiled and nodded happily when they were told to form their own opinions and to have no fear of frankness, but it soon developed that the advice was unnecessary. They were men of imposing candor.

When a reporter asked them what would happen if two American flyers landed in Russia, they beamed and frankly declared: "The Russians would make their stay happy and make big propaganda around them." At one of their first stops in Richmond--the John Marshall Hotel--they announced that they were "hungry as dogs" and gobbled up free steak, vegetables and cream pie with unabashed enthusiasm.

They stared shrewdly around a Richmond department store while crowds, which had followed them in, stared curiously back. They were offered a free shirt apiece, unerringly picked the most expensive ones in the showcase. At the camera counter they announced, this time a little apologetically, that they thought the Germans made better photographic equipment than the Americans. Pirogov was openly enthusiastic at the sight of pretty models parading past in expensive dresses, but Barsov was doubtful.

"That is easy way to make living," he said, "but does little for mind."

The Virginians were astounded to discover that their guests had never heard of Robert E. Lee, hurried them to the great man's statue and briefed them on his activities in the Civil War.

"A revolutionist, perhaps, like Lenin," said Pirogov.

Neon & Yo-Yos. As they were whirled off across the state in automobiles, they exclaimed favorably at the low cost of eggs in the U.S., the marvels of neon tubing, the high wages earned by U.S. workers and the admirable restraint of a government which did not grab up all the stores and factories in sight.

But when they saw the famed rock-arch Natural Bridge, they beat their hosts to the explanation. Said one: "Water did it in one million years." They seemed slightly baffled at the sight of a Negro boys' street band in which most of the music came from cymbals and a washtub. And they were worried about the mental processes of Sweet Briar College girls; one of them demonstrated a yo-yo to the visitors, and at least 20 of them politely asked if the flyers were going back to Russia after their visit.

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