Oh, No, Here Comes Joe

By Ann Blackman/Moscow

Accompanied by a two-man television crew and three state vegetable inspectors, Victor Shinkaretsky bursts through the doors of a small family- leased vegetable store just around the corner from the Kremlin. Startled customers watch as he begins rummaging through the beets, potatoes and carrots. "We're checking for nitrates," Shinkaretsky explains, as the inspectors set up their portable laboratory equipment.

Soft-spoken and unassuming in private, Victor Shinkaretsky is a bulldog on the job and on the air. Appearing several times a week on Good Evening, Moscow!, a prime-time television show that specializes in covering everyday headaches in the capital, Shinkaretsky is the Ralph Nader of the U.S.S.R., the champion of consumers in a country with precious little to consume. Though his persistence in uncovering agriculture shortcomings has earned him the nickname "Tomato Joe," he quickly points out, "I also expose the problems of sanitation, transportation and theft."

Shinkaretsky, who works for state-run Gosteleradio, has no private office, no producer, no staff. His only status symbol: a beeper that he carries in his shirt pocket. When it flashes the number 6, he knows to call Yuri Luzhkov, Moscow's deputy mayor and the official in charge of the city food supply. "We're in cahoots," Shinkaretsky says, and winks.

For one of his most memorable pieces, Shinkaretsky posed as a worker in a sausage factory. Passing several indifferent guards, he walked out the factory gate and headed toward a hidden television camera. Pulling a large ham from under his coat, he told viewers, "You see how easy it is to steal here." After the report was aired, the factory tightened security.

Shinkaretsky's voice is a lonely one, since the consumer movement is just awakening in the Soviet Union. Besides a small group of activists in the capital, there are fledgling consumer groups in Leningrad and Kiev. A draft law was introduced in Moscow in February that would allow customers to exchange shoddy goods, but Shinkaretsky is not impressed. He wants to start a consumer journal and set up a council that tests cars, stereos and, particularly, television sets, a fire hazard because they have a tendency to explode.

A translator for the Foreign Ministry before switching to journalism in 1972, Shinkaretsky joined Good Evening, Moscow! three years ago. "I decided to use glasnost to the hilt," he recalls. Today he is often recognized on the street, and he is peppered with questions. At the store where he checked for nitrates, a stooped old woman approached him and asked, "Can you do something about the lack of toothpaste?"

The passive way in which many Soviets deal with the drudgery of daily life infuriates Shinkaretsky. "We shouldn't have to put up with these things," he says, tightening his jaw in anger. "And our society should recognize that it is we who are to blame. Instead of being consumer-minded, many people are parasites. They expect to be given good food, good roads and good education, but they don't want to push for anything themselves. This is a revolution, and no one will do your revolution for you." Bidding a quick goodbye, Shinkaretsky is off again, this time to visit one of the city's vegetable depots. Film at 11.