Paul Robeson
On that 14th of June in 1949, the audience
present at the Tchaikovsky Hall had thoroughly enjoyed the concert. The
powerful baritone voice of the American singer resonated inside the hall. The
predominantly Russian audience, traditionally enamoured with the bass voice
found the performance extremely pleasing. However, the concert was fast coming
to an end and the audience was getting restless. It was then that the singer
spoke from the stage, in near perfect Russian. He spoke about his warm
friendship with Soviet Jews like Solomon Mikhoels and Yitzhak Feffer. He spoke
of the enduring ties between the Soviet and American Jewish communities and the
vitality of Yiddish language. He then announced that he would sing a song in
memory of the Jewish partisans who fought the Fascist aggression of the Second
World War.
The audience was stunned. There was absolute
silence in the Tchaikovsky Hall. The Soviet Union was then in the grip of an
anti-Semitic wave. The Jewish identity was being questioned and Soviet Jews
were accused of being 'rootless cosmopolitans' who lacked allegiance to the
ideals of Soviet socialism. The actor Solomon Mikhoels had died the previous
year; officially as the result of an automobile accident. He was buried with
full state honours. The rumor was that he was assassinated by the Soviet secret
police of the time- the MGB1. The
other friend that the American singer had mentioned- Yitzhak Feffer was missing
and was presumed to be in MGB custody. The Yiddish language was linked to the
Jewish identity and was actively being suppressed. At a time such as this, to
sing a Yiddish song was unthinkable; even suicidal.
As the song would be sung in Yiddish, the singer
proceeded to translate the first stanza into Russian so that his audience may
connect with the spirit of the song.
“Never say that you have reached the very end
When leaden skies a bitter future may portend.
For sure the hour for which we yearn will yet
arrive
And our marching steps will thunder - we
survive!”
The audience still sat shocked, stunned and
silent. Then a young girl stood up and clapped. Slowly, others joined in and
the applause grew. Finally when the applause died off, the singer started with
the song. It had an immediate effect. The barriers that had been erected
between man and man, collapsed. There were no Jews, no Russians, no MGB, no
suspects in the audience; just human beings. People broke down in tears while
their neighbours comforted them. A simple Yiddish song had reminded them of the
fragility of human lives and the preciousness of freedom. In a nation that had
lost over 20 million people to the fascist aggression, virtually everyone in
the audience had someone to remember that night. The crowd moved towards the
stage and some tried to get atop the stage to shake hands with the singer while
others called out to him- “Pavel Vasilyevich”. That was how Paul Robeson
had asked to be called while in the USSR.
By Narodin
No comments:
Post a Comment