‘Beeg Maks’ Win Big ‘Da’ in Moscow Debut

Thousands of Muscovites lined up all the way down Gorky Street today for the opening of Moscow’s first and the world’s biggest McDonald’s--and all were served with courtesy that left them in disbelief.

“We opened the doors and literally 500 people came through; it’s very exciting, ecstatic,” said George Kohon, 52, president of McDonald’s Canada, who worked for 14 years to realize his dream of bringing McDonald’s to Moscow.

Inside the restaurant under the Golden Arches embellished by the Soviet hammer-and-sickle flag, people tried gingerly to get their fingers around their first American hamburger. They tried eating them one-handed. They picked them apart to examine the contents.

One young woman finally squashed her Big Mac in order to fit her lips around it.

“It tasted great!” said a 14-year-old boy, a sesame seed still stuck to his nose.

The restaurant “is a lot different from a stolovaya, “ he continued, referring to the run-down, dirty cafeterias that slop out dishes like rice and fat or boiled sausage in the Soviet Union’s closest approximation to fast food.

From 10 a.m. on, the Soviets kept arriving, eating and leaving--shocked at the courtesy shown by young polite Soviet attendants who waited on them from behind 27 gleaming automatic registers.

“They told us thank you, come again,” people repeated bemusedly as they left.

Normally dour-faced citizens broke into grins, catching the infectious cheerful mood from youthful Soviet workers hired for their ability to smile and work hard. Accordions played folk songs and women in traditional costumes danced with cartoon characters.

Outside, other Soviet customers waited, but not for long. “The lines are moving unbelievably well,” said Kohon, who had promised no long waits. “I was just at the end of the line, and people can’t believe it. The Soviets . . . are used to standing so they are now just walking along slowly.”

“I only waited an hour and I think they served thousands before me,” said a happy middle-aged woman from the aluminum plant on Dmitrovskoye Highway. “And it was only 10 rubles for all this,” she said, pointing to a bag packed with unfamiliar treats like cheeseburgers and “filay-o-feesh” sandwiches. “I’m taking it back for the girls at the factory to try.”

“Beeg Maks” were priced at 3.75 rubles, and double cheeseburgers at 3 rubles--about two hours’ pay for a starting McDonald’s staffer or the average Soviet worker. That’s a bit high compared to state restaurants but much cheaper than the private cooperative outlets that have sprung up in the past year.

Muscovites could in no way recognize the site as that of the old cafe Lira, a watering hole known for its rowdiness with brawls spilling out late at night onto Pushkin Square.

Instead, what Kohon calls the world’s most modern and biggest McDonald’s now graces the spot, with 700 seats inside and 200 outside, ready to serve 15,000 people each day--certainly to be exceeded today. In the end, Moscow is slated to get 20 McDonald’s.