Snow Is a Friend

It has been snowing in Moscow since Sept. 24. For much of that time, the thermometer has huddled between zero and 15DEG F. The Russians love it. From his toasty (75DEG) office on Kutuzovsky Prospekt, TIME'S Moscow correspondent, Marsh Clark, explained why:

The Russians have a symbiotic relationship with cold. For them, snow is a matter of both pride and necessity. It was, after all, General Winter as much as any Russian field marshal who saved the capital from Napoleon and Hitler. Without a heavy covering of snow, the winter wheat crop suffers. The "worst" winter in recent years was that of 1975, when almost no snow fell and the Soviets had to spend scarce hard currency for foreign grain to feed their populace and livestock.

Besides, the Russians know how to cope with cold. Moscow, Kiev, Leningrad and other major cities all have superefficient subway systems, as well as good if overcrowded bus and streetcar service. The use of private cars is so limited that there are no traffic jams or parking problems. In any case, the streets are swept bone-dry by thousands of snowplows. Giant "snow eater" machines called snegouborki scoop up the snow and dump it onto conveyor belts, which deposit it in trucks, which unload it into the Moskva River. As the first flakes fall, at any hour of day or night one can hear the scritch-scratch of individual snow shovels and brooms, generally woman-powered.

Through all this, the trains run fantastic distances--usually on time. Since most intercity travelers in Russia go by rail, Soviet engineers have long since learned to beat the bugs that so often stall U.S. commuter railroads.

The Russians have no special tricks for keeping warm. Every man wears a shapka, a fur (muskrat, rabbit, squirrel, fox or Persian lamb) hat with ear flaps. Everyone wears warm boots; the best are the felt valenki favored by villagers. People who work outdoors wear, of course. Soviet Union suits. After a long spell in the cold, they raise spirits with a stiff jolt of vodka and a hunk of fatback.

Buildings are mostly heated by a central supply system that feeds them steam through underground lines. The main fuel in Russia is--weep, amerikantsy--natural gas, piped from Soviet Central Asia and Siberia. (The Soviet Union has one-fourth of the world's natural-gas reserves, but has instituted a widespread fuel-conservation program nonetheless.) Because natural gas is the cleanest-burning fuel of all, there is no air pollution.

As I write, it's zero outside. Snow is falling. But the Muscovites on their way to homes, universities or theaters this evening do not display the dour, inward-hunched, God-help-us visages of cold-stricken New Yorkers or Chicagoans. Snow is their friend, and servant.

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