Russian Poet’s Struggle Is an Ode to Dignity

We Americans insist on happy endings.

Bulat Okudzhava, poet to a people who have endured much worse than unhappiness, doubtless would take that as a symptom of our “naivete.”

The story that follows is partly his and partly ours:

Okudzhava is among the most distinguished of the Russian poets who came to maturity during the brief spring of Nikita S. Khrushchev’s thaw. As his colleague, Yevgeny Yevtushenko, has said, “The poets of Russia were always warriors for the future of their native land, for the triumph of justice.” And, in that struggle, Okudzhava was the fighter who took his stand closest to his people’s heart. His poems, novels and particularly his song ballads have made him one of Russia’s best-loved artists and one of its most courageous social critics.

When I first read him in 1966, I was struck not only by his integrity but also by his warm embrace of that integrity’s expression in ordinary life--as, for example, in a small boy’s sense of wonder:

Blue was the morning. It was early yet.

Tormented Moscow was still sleeping.

Through the windows,

through the double panes,

Bells suddenly could be heard ringing.

And glancing at the sky in fear,

I saw,

through the mist there

from afar,

Black monks jostling their way. . . .

Those were the clouds.

Two months ago, after a reading in Hollywood to a sold-out audience of 1,000 emigres, the heart condition that had dogged Okudzhava, 67, for some time suddenly became acute. He was admitted to St. Vincent’s Medical Center in Los Angeles, and a successful bypass operation was performed. When he awoke, however, he found himself not only cured but also--to his shock and intense distress--$56,000 in debt.

The cost of American medicine is as foreign to Russians as its high technology. And, even if it were familiar, Okudzhava’s family lacks the means to pay.

The initial $50,000 owed to the hospital was covered by a hastily arranged loan from the German publishing group, Bertelsman International. That debt was secured by promissory notes signed by Okudzhava’s wife, Olga, who accompanied him here, and the Russian emigre writer Lev Kopelev.

The Okudzhavas say they will remain in Los Angeles until their debt is settled. And, although friends and admirers already have donated $21,000 to alleviate the obligation, Bulat Okudzhava remains perplexed and depressed by his unfamiliar circumstances.

“All my life I have been independent and, even when I had no money, I never borrowed anything from anyone,” he told me early this week. “This is extremely unpleasant for me. Yet, on the other hand, I was given care of the highest quality; it was of a level that probably is unobtainable anywhere in the Soviet Union. So I have no claim, no complaint, against anyone. Everything was entirely correct. And yet, the situation that has followed has demeaned me, deprived me of my dignity.

“But I want to make it clear that it was not the people involved who deprived me of my dignity, but the circumstances. If I were an American and I had lived in this climate, amid these circumstances, I probably would not have reacted as bitterly as I have. By the same token, perhaps. . . .” The visual conclusion to that sentence was an eloquently suggestive shrug.

“You must realize,” Okudzhava continued, “that I was brought up with a well-known Russian saying: ‘You don’t bring your own rites into a strange monastery.’

“For that reason, I have no cause to protest. I can only acknowledge that it is America that has saved my life. I know that the debt for this must be paid. But I have nothing to pay it with. So, I have no complaints against America, simply a great sadness at my own situation.”

Has his experience altered his view of life in the United States?

“My attitude toward America has not changed. There are shortcomings everywhere, but they do not define a country. The thing about this nation that initially surprised me most--and still does--is the inner health and the eagerness to compete on the part of Americans.

“And one of the signs of this inner health is a certain naivete, which lends the people an even greater beauty. Maybe this is a characteristic of every young nation.”

So, too, is a certain heedlessness. The society in which Okudzhava was raised was obsessed with egalitarianism. But in the end, the only thing it could distribute equally was want. Our society is a great engine of production, but even the most essential fruits of its labor are available only to those with means or the willingness to throw themselves on the uncertain--and finite--kindness of strangers.

We also are an impatient people. And, according to Michael Garko, St. Vincent’s financial vice president, there “appears to be a resolution to Mr. Okudzhava’s problem forthcoming.” Garko said that by today he hopes to have secured an additional $35,000 in donations from Okudzhava’s admirers. Some of the money will come from Doubleday, Bertelsman’s U.S. subsidiary, the rest from “several parties” whose names will be announced when the arrangements are complete.

“The community is coming together to resolve this situation on Mr. Okudzhava’s behalf,” Garko said. “There is great support for this gentleman in this community. Unfortunately, his situation is not unique. This state and county have a major problem providing adequate health care for people without sufficient means or insurance. This hospital, like others, has programs to serve them and does millions of dollars in charity cases each year. But something like this is going to happen again. In fact, it does every day, though not to people so well known.”

So, there you have it, a happy ending--one that shows us what may be both our best and worst sides, an ending worthy of a poet.