БП. Между прошлым и будущим. Книга 1 - Александр Половец

И были еще годы творчества. Были вместительные, и все равно переполненные почитателями поэта, залы в самых окраинных, самых отдаленных от России уголках нашей планеты. И в Америке — тоже.

Но об этом — когда-нибудь потом.

Зато сберег я вырезку из Нью Йорк Таймс: такое там появлялось не часто — вот она, читатель, владеющий английским, поймёт — почему она здесь уместна:

Итак,

By FELICITY BARRINGER,

Published: July 20, 1991

«Bulat Okudzhava’s adventure was supposed to have a happy ending. For a month, his story has been playing in newspapers from Los Angeles to Moscow along these lines: «Soviet bard diagnosed with life-threatening heart condition while on tour in Los Angeles. Bypass operation urgently needed. Admirers dip into their pockets. Operation successful.» But that was before the bill collector appeared. Now Mr. Okudzhava (pronounced oh-ku-DJA-va), the 67-year-old poet, novelist and singer whose evocation of loss and longing gave voice to the pain of two generations of Soviets, is in Los Angeles, $56,000 in debt for his operation and subsequent treatment.Friends and admirers have sent $21,000 to two Soviet emigre newspapers intended for him, but it is not clear whether Mr. Okudzhava and his wife, Olga, who is traveling with him, can raise the remaining $35,ООО. The tale of the bard and the bill reflects a bittersweet encounter between two disparate cultures. In the Soviet Union, where medical care is free but widely distrusted, American medicine is seen in mythic terms and doctors are considered miracle workers. That miracles cost money is either not widely understood or not widely accepted.Like most Americans, Michael Garko, financial vice president of St. Vincent’s Medical Center in Los Angeles, where the operation was performed, was not familiar with Mr. Okudzhava’s reputation. In recent telephone interviews, Mr. Garko questioned the notion that it is possible to have renown without substantial resources.But a German publisher, Bertelsman Publishing Group International, forwarded $50,000 to pay the hospital through its American subsidiary after an appeal by Lev Kopelev, a Soviet writer who emigrated to Munich.Because Mr. Okudzhava’s bill was covered by private funds and not by insurance, the hospital followed its usual practice for what it terms «private-pay patients» and charged him at its highest rates. This added $6,000 to the bill.Now Mr. Okudzhava owes $50,000 to Bertelsman and $6,000 to the hospital.Thefirst rush of concern for Mr. Okudzhava in late May had led scores of Soviet emigres to send contributions totaling $21,000 to funds set up for Mr. Okudzhava at Russian-language newspapers in New York and Los Angeles. But the writer still owes the difference between these funds and the debts. «There was supposedly this great outpouring of support,» Mr. Garko said. «Why don’t they go back to this outpouring of support and pay back the loan?» ‘I’m in a Low State’For a proud man of Georgian heritage like Mr. Okudzhava, asking for money is more painful than living with the chest pains that led to the surgery. «I’m in a low state,» he said in a telephone interview last week from a friend’s Los Angeles home where he has been staying since leaving the hospital. «I’m an independent person, I have been all my life. Now I’m dependent on everyone. I’ve been very poor at times in my life, but I’ve never asked for a loan.» Rochelle Ruthschild, director of the Russian School at Norwich University in Vermont, said: «Soviets have a very different attitude toward money. We are obsessed with money. They haven’t needed to be.» Yuri Busi, a Soviet emigre who is a cardiologist associated with St. Vincent’s, had found that the chest pains afflicting Mr. Okudzhava were the result of a 90 percent blockage of a major blood vessel. He recommended immediate surgery. Dr. Busi took no fee for the test he performed. In fact, said Alexander Polovets, editor of an emigre newspaper, Panorama, based in Los Angeles, the specialist contributed to the newspaper’s fund for Mr. Okudzhava. But the cardiac surgeon who performed the operation charged his full fee. Hospital Transfer ConsideredSeeing that money was an issue, Mr. Garko had raised the possibility of whether Mr. Okudzhava should be transferred to the Los Angeles County Hospital. But Mrs. Okudzhava feared a transfer would endanger her husband’s life.Mr. Kopelev and Mr. Okudzhava’s wife later signed promissory notes guaranteeing repayment of the loan. But Mr. Kopelev said in a recent telephone interview, «1 don’t have $50,000 just lying around on the table.» And, he noted, it is easier to ask for money to save someone from death than from debt. Mr. Garko said of the $50,000 to cover the bill: «1 thought the publishers were giving it out of the charity of their hearts. I didn’t know it was a loan.» So, when he received offers to help pay Mr. Kopelev’s bill from the office of the conductor of the National Symphony, Mstislav Rostropovich, and others, Mr. Garko said he told them there was no need for it. He did ask for their addresses in case there were additional charges.In the end, there was the extra $6,000. Now, Mr. Garko said, it is up to the Okudzhavas and Mr. Polovets to go back on the fund-raising trail. In tones that reflect his ire at news accounts that cast him as the villain of the piece, Mr. Garko insists that Mr. Okudzhava «has been treated no different» from any other private-paying patient. «This is a business,» he said. Mr. Polovets, who has lived in this country about 15 years, said: «How can I blame Mr. Garko? He’s in a position where he should request money. That’s his duty. Of course they charge a little more than they should, but that’s the basis of Western medicine, that’s why it’s good» But Mr. Okudzhava and his wife seem less concerned with the question of cost than the question of payment. Mrs. Okudzhava, in a number of telephone interviews, made it clear she would welcome a reduction of the bill, but made it equally clear that she felt «degraded» by the necessity of asking for it.Mr. Garko said. «If you asked me whether I’d consider the extension of some discount — absolutely.» Must the Okudzhavas request it? «Absolutely.» Mrs. Okudzhava also made it clear that returning to the Soviet Union with the matter unresolved was an unacceptable alternative. «My biggest fault was that I took responsibility and didn’t send him to another hospital,» Mrs. Okudzhava said. Because she and her husband felt comfortable with Dr. Busi, she said: «1 put Bulat in the most expensive hospital. I didn’t think at that moment about issues of rights and morality and money. I wanted to save him.»

ЦДЛ и окрестности

Итак — Москва.

— Пойдем обедать в ЦДЛ, — предлагает Булат.

Мы входим через главный вход, с улицы Герцена, и задерживаемся у киоска, пестреющего газетами, названия которых мне большей частью незнакомы. И книгами — теми, которые еще совсем недавно следовало обертывать плотной бумагой, а надежнее — переплести заново, чтобы на обложке читалось что-нибудь совсем безобидное…

Выяснив у вечной бабульки, ведающей всем этим богатством, что недавно завезенные сюда в порядке смелого эксперимента выпуски «Панорамы» разошлись полностью, мы следуем в сторону ресторана. Остается пройти просторное фойе Малого зала, мы приближаемся ко входу в ресторан и обнаруживаем здесь некую долговязую фигуру в темном костюме. Она полностью загораживает собою вход, не выказывая намерения уступить нам дорогу.

— Мы — в ресторан… — собираясь спокойно миновать фигуру, произносит Ольга, она оказалась у дверей первой.

— Отсюда — не положено!

— То есть, как?.. — не понимаем мы.

— А так! Не положено, — и, снисходя до нашей непонятливости, фигура поясняет: — Будет ремонт.

С места, где мы стоим, хорошо видны двери, ведущие в ресторан: на всем пути к ним никаких признаков хотя бы готовящегося ремонта не заметно. Булат, не меняя привычной позы — руки в карманах, — делает шаг вперед.

— Мы пройдем здесь… — спокойно произносит он.

— Не положено! — повторяет фигура.

— Что?! — Редко, крайне редко доводится мне видеть Булата разгневанным.

Он оборачивается к нам — Ольга, Буля и я стоим чуть позади, готовые вернуться на улицу, чтобы обойти здание и оказаться у бокового входа в него — со стороны Поварской, тогда еще носившей имя Воровского.

— Идем! — Булат двигается вперед, мы — за ним. Фигура оторопело смотрит нам вслед, не делая даже попытки остановить нас.

— Поставили тут болванов! — громко, но уже почти спокойно говорит Булат. — Писатель не может войти в свой дом… Болваны, — повторяет он, не оглядываясь на нас, идущих следом.

Большую часть обедающих в тот год пока еще составляют литераторы, — и к нашему столику непрерывно кто-то подходит, чтобы выразить участие и радость по поводу благополучно завершившейся операции — ее в начале лета перенес Булат.

Потом мы сидим за столиком: слева от меня, лицом ко входу со стороны Поварской, — Булат, справа — Оля и Буля, я сижу лицом к залу. Ресторан почти полон, а посетители всё подходят и подходят. Кто-то подсаживается к кому-то, создаются импровизированные компании. В ожидании неторопливых подавальщиц за столиками беседуют, прикладываясь к не пустеющим рюмкам.

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