Open Hands for Palmira

Ever since her birth in an evil-smelling slum in the Adriatic port of Ancona, life had been hard for Palmira Carloni. After nearly half a century of never-ending work, she still managed to avoid starvation only by selling salted lupine seeds along Ancona's waterfront. Two of the ten children she had borne her deckhand husband died for want of food. But Palmira was strong because she had faith.

Palmira's faith was in Russia. As a girl of 17 she had heard the exciting news of Russia's October Revolution. She remembers: "We felt it was us." From then on she never wavered. When the Fascists made it a crime to praise anything Soviet, she joined the Communist underground. For 20 years of Fascist rule her hovel was a refuge for Communists fleeing Mussolini's police, but she was never caught. "In my heart of hearts I always looked to Russia," Palmira remembers. "It's been my idea of heaven all these years."

A Glimpse of Heaven. One morning last week as Palmira sat by the waterfront selling her lupines, three ships dropped anchor in Ancona harbor. On two of them, the U.S. destroyers Glennon and George K. MacKenzie, she wasted no attention, but her heart went out to the black, unkempt hull of the third ship. It was the Soviet freighter Dmitry Pozharsky and from its stern flapped a ragged red flag. With tears in her eyes Palmira called out to her eldest daughter, "Look, Roma, it's come." Then the two scurried off through Ancona's alleyways, routing out 500 women comrades to welcome the Russians.

On the way to the ship Palmira spent her morning's earnings on a bunch of red carnations which she carried like a flag at the head of the procession. Singing, the 500 disheveled women marched through the dockyard gates toward the Dmitry Pozharsky. Police tried to tell them that the Russians would not let them on the ship. "You'll see," laughed Palmira.

Clenched Fists. As the crowd came up, half a dozen sailors watched glumly from the Pozharsky's deck. Two of them planted themselves in warning at the head of the gangplank. Most of the women stopped singing, but Palmira, undiscouraged, waved her carnations and shouted, "Tovarish, Tovarish, Tovarish Stalin." The Russians continued to stare blankly and, for a moment, her voice began to break. Then she beamed and raised her arm in the clenched fist salute. At last the Russians answered. They raised their right arms--with hands held open. "No, no," howled Palmira's followers.

The Russian captain was the first to understand and close his fist in the Communist salute. The other Russians quickly followed his example. Then a man in blue overalls came down the gangplank, walked up to Palmira and took her flowers. But when she asked with gestures if the women could board the Pozharsky, he waved a negative hand and hurried back to the ship. He carried Palmira's carnations head down. After a while the women quietly left the dockyards.

Capitalist Tools. In the afternoon Palmira went back to selling lupines, but she did not do very well. Most of Ancona's people, who had been invited to visit the American ships, were intent on the destroyers and in no mood to eat lupines. To her daughter Palmira remarked that she felt empty inside.

When evening arrived the American sailors came ashore. As soon as they landed scores of Italians gathered around them chattering and laughing. Suddenly Palmira, curious to know what the fuss was about, walked through the dusk to the edge of the crowd. As she stood there, an American sailor "with a hat like a saucepan" thrust some chocolate and a carton of cigarettes into her hands. Before she could say anything he was gone.

Later Palmira reflected, "Of course, [the American sailors] are tools of the capitalist system and they are probably ready to mow down workers. Still it was nice of them to hide their anti-worker feelings today. They are good boys. I don't know whether what I say makes any sense, but . . . I am confused."

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