CONTENTS
Title Page
Dedication
Epigraph
An Appreciation
A Note on Style
Volume One: Oswald in Minsk with Marina
Part I: The Adventures of Valya
1 Volchuk
2 Zyatouk
3 White Nights
Part II: Oswald in Moscow
1 King’s English
2 The Idiot
3 Rosa, Rimma, and Richard Snyder
4 What’s My News?
Part III: Oswald’s Work, Oswald’s Sweetheart
1 Igor
2 Developer
3 Alyosha
4 Oswald at His Bench
5 Echoes from a Ghetto
6 Twice a Hero
7 Parties at the Zigers’
8 In Love with Ella
9 Ella and Lee
10 Zdradstvy
11 Razbitoye Karito
Part IV: Marina’s Friends, Marina’s Loves
1 Yanina and Sonya
2 Neighbors
3 Larissa
4 Misha
5 Leonid
6 Inessa
7 Kostya
8 Yuri Merezhinsky
9 Anatoly
Part V: Courtship and Marriage
1 Alik
2 A Little Bit of Conquering
3 The Wedding Night
4 Honeymooners
5 Early Married Days
6 Back to America
Part VI: A Commencement of the Long Voyage Home
1 Remarks from the Author
2 Correspondence
3 Bureaucratic Soundings
4 Return to Moscow
5 French Champagne
6 Traveler’s Qualms
7 On the Observation of Intimate Moments
8 Doing the Floor
9 The Queen of Spades
Part VII: Fatherhood and Motherhood
1 Cruel but Wise
2 A Bomb Scare
3 The Good Boy, the Good Man
4 On the Turn of the Year
5 Pen Pals
6 An Addition to the Family
7 “There Are Microbes in Your Mouth”
8 Second Thoughts
9 “His Impertinence Knows No Bounds”
10 Farewell to Ella
11 Leave-taking
Part VIII: In the Anteroom of History
1 Across the Briny Deep
2 Homecoming
3 A Visit to the Organs
Part IX: Shock
1 Limbo
2 Veracity
3 The Most Degrading Moment in Her Life
Volume Two: Oswald in America
Part I: Early Years, Soldier Years
1 On Becoming an Usher
2 Mama’s Boy
3 Indian Summer, New York
4 Youth House
5 Macho Teenage Marxist
6 The Loose End
7 The Man Who Would Take Over the Team
8 Return to Moscow and Minsk
9 Maternity House
Part II: Charity in Fort Worth
1 Honeymoon
2 In the China Closet
3 Deep in the Heart of Texas
4 The Well-born Friend
5 Not in a Million Years
Part III: Dark Days in Dallas
1 Evenings in Dallas
2 Oswald’s Kampf
3 “I Refused to Tell a Lie”
4 Christmas and Red Caviar
5 Grubs for the Organism
6 Trouble at Work
7 In Order to Feel a Little Love
8 Hunter of Fascists
9 Stoicism, Majestic in Purpose
10 Waiting for the Police
11 Telescopic Sight
Part IV: The Big Easy
1 “A Terrifically Sad Life”
2 “He Walks and Talks Like a Man”
3 Forbidden Strings
4 Love, Heat, and Grease
5 Fair Play for Cuba
6 Atheism and Morality
7 Out of Omens Come Events
8 Fair Play
9 Picking Up the Pieces
Part V: Protagonists and Provocateurs
1 Protagonists and Provocateurs
2 Right-wing Adventurers
3 An Inexplicable Visit
4 A Nimble Solution
5 Mexico
Part VI: Denouement
1 The Road to Domesticity
2 The Shadow of the FBI
3 Pigeons Flew Up from the Roof
4 An Afternoon at the Movies
5 The Hour of Panic
6 The Return of Marguerite Oswald
7 The Octopus Outside
8 A Black Pullover Sweater with Jagged Holes in It
9 “He Cry; He Eye Wet”
Part VII: The Amateur Hit Man
1 The Amateur Hit Man
Part VIII: Oswald’s Ghost
1 The Punishment of Hosty and the Death of the Handler
2 In the Rubble of the Aftermath
3 Evidence
4 Character
5 The Widow’s Elegy
6 The Third Widow
Appendix
Glossary of Names
Acknowledgments
Notes
Bibliography
About the Author
By Norman Mailer
Praise for Oswald’s Tale
Copyright
TO NORRIS, MY WIFE,
for this book and for the other fourteen that have been written through these warm years, these thirty years and more we have been together.
REPRESENTATIVE BOGGS. Why did your son defect to Russia?
MARGUERITE OSWALD. I cannot answer that yes or no sir. I am going to go through the whole story or it is no good. And that is what I have been doing for this Commission all day long—giving a story.
REPRESENTATIVE BOGGS. Suppose you just make it very brief.
MARGUERITE OSWALD. I cannot make it brief. I will say I am unable to make it brief. This is my life and my son’s life going down in history.
—from Marguerite Oswald’s Warren Commission testimony,
February 10, 1964
AN APPRECIATION
to Larry Schiller, my skilled and wily colleague in interview and investigation, for the six months we labored side by side in Minsk and Moscow, and then again in Dallas, feeling as close as family (and occasionally as contentious); and to Judith McNally, my incomparable assistant, whose virtues are so numerous it would weigh upon one’s own self-regard to list them—yes, to Schiller and McNally, a full and unconditional appreciation. Without them, there might have been no tale to tell.
A NOTE ON STYLE
The definite and indefinite articles are not employed in Russian. Nor is the verb “to be.” One would not say, “The man is in the room,” but rather: “Man in room.” (Which is why those Russians who do not command much English invariably sound brusque.) On the other hand, a construction like “Man in room” does tend to make you aware of the man and the room both.
One was tempted, therefore, to dispense with articles and the verb “to be” during the first half of this book, for it would have given an overpowering Russian flavor to the prose. A full effort in that direction would, however, have tortured the English language beyond repair, and so only a suggestion of this difference is present. Let me, then, wish you good reading and happy accommodation to small liberties taken with King’s English.
VOLUME ONE
OSWALD IN MINSK WITH MARINA
PART I
THE ADVENTURES OF VALYA
1
Volchuk
When Valya was three years old, she fell on a hot sto
ve and burned her face and was ill for a whole year, all that year from three to four. Her mother died soon after, and her father was left with seven children.
When they buried her mother, Valya’s father said, “Now, look at her and remember her.” He put them all around the coffin and told them again, “Try to remember your mother.” There they were, all seven children, dressed in black. Valya’s dress had an ornament like a small cross. She remembers that, and how all her brothers and sisters cried. Their mother had died giving birth to her eighth baby.
She passed away at a hospital fifty kilometers from where they lived, and when her mother felt she was at her last, she asked somebody to call Guri, her husband, and tell him that she wished to say a few words. So, she lay in bed waiting, her eyes on the door, and when she saw that door open, she was so weak she could only say, “Guri, please take care of our children,” and then she died. She couldn’t live a moment longer. Of course, she still comes back to Valya in her dreams.
While Valya was only the fifth child in this family, she was the second sister, so when her oldest sister left home a couple of years later, Valya had to take care of the house. It was a good family all the same, and they were kindhearted, and approximately everybody was equal. When Valya was seven, she could already bake bread in a stove where you had to use a flat wooden spade to insert your loaf of dough, and everybody was happy when she made her bread because it was tasty.
Her father was a switchman and worked on the Smolenskaya section of the Soviet rail system at a town called Pridneprovsk. Since his children had no older woman to help them now, Guri married again. And his children were not upset by this new wife but loved her, for she was a nice person, and they even called her Mama. She was very kind to them, even if she was not healthy and had been married twice already; but her only child, from her second marriage, had died and now this was a third marriage, and Guri and this new wife did not have children together.
It is possible the stepmother married Valya’s father so she wouldn’t have to stay on a collective farm but could live with a man who did not need a wife to work outside. Sometimes Valya wondered why he did marry her, because she was sick a lot, even hospitalized; but though she did not help so much as hoped, these children needed her to feel like a family, and so they waited each time for her to return from her sickness. She did care for Guri’s children. Sometimes when Valya’s father went to Smolensk or to Vitebsk and returned with something special to eat, he would say to his new wife, “You see, there are so many children and they are so young, so I can only bring back this small thing for you,” and the wife said yes, but when he left, she usually divided it all, and never kept it for herself. She lived with them for years before she died and they all grew up with her, and Valya’s father lived on beyond that, and did not pass away until he was eighty-seven years old. Even when life was not easy, they always had their father.
Valya was very shy. Always upset about her cheek. One side of her face remained scarred from that burn when she was three. The medical cures in those days had been wrong. They used to put on some type of bandage that would dry out, so when they took it away from her skin, it left a mark. Besides, this treatment was painful, very painful. Valya remembers crying through the whole year. She even heard some people say, “Maybe it would be better if she died, because if a girl has a face like this, she does not have happiness.” It made her a quiet person, she feels, who kept everything unhappy inside. She never was emotional. She went through things and never screamed at anybody, just felt unhappy inside.
Children, however, were never cruel to her in school. Valya had four brothers, so it was not easy for children to insult her. Her brothers and sisters were all healthy, and so they had a special feeling for Valya. They pitied her because she’d been sick for that entire year and they saw her suffering. Her father even said, “You know, when you were a child I spent more time with you than with all my others. I was always keeping you in my hands for that whole year, you cried so much.” Valya grew up believing that this scar on her cheek had taken away her beauty as a woman. She had a nice body, she had nice teeth, but because of her cheek she did not consider herself attractive. And yet there were always men around her. It was strange. She didn’t know why she attracted men, but she did. Even when she was already married and was traveling from Arkhangelsk to Minsk to join her husband, at a time when it was difficult to buy train tickets and she was standing in line for hours to get one, there was a captain standing behind her and they talked for three or four hours while in line. This captain said, “I don’t know if you’re married or not, but if you can marry me, then we’ll register, and you’ll be my wife.” And she thought, “He says this even though I have such a problem with my cheek!” And she was maybe twenty-three or twenty-four years old. He was very serious. But she said, “I’m going to my husband; I’m married.”
Perhaps, she would say, it was because people knew she could make a good home. All this time she was growing up, her interest was housekeeping. She made everything clean; she kept Guri’s house spotless. It was a cottage with two rooms, one for his seven children and one for Guri and his wife. There was no kitchen, but in her father’s room there was a stove and she cooked meals there. On holidays, like New Year’s, they put their decorated tree in the other room, where seven kids slept on three beds.
By every railway station was a small house, usually in a field near the railroad tracks, and its first floor was an office, but the top floor was given to whichever station man lived there with his family. So now, whenever she passes a small railroad station, she feels sad. Her childhood had not been easy, but somehow she likes to remember it and enjoy it, and so this sadness is equal to a recollection of nice moments in life. She enjoys such sadness.
In high school she studied German as a second language, but students were always told that fascism was a totalitarian regime and they were in a democracy of socialism, and, of course, she never saw a German until they arrived in a large group soon after the war began, in June of 1941. She remembers that the fields were ripening and Germans were already in Smolensk. They came so quickly. Everywhere, Russian troops were retreating, leaving behind many tanks, retreating. Germans kept coming. They were masters of this place. First there were planes, and then Germans showed up themselves, but first there were airplanes high and low, bombarding them. Bridges, their railway station, burned villages. These planes came for a week, then tanks. They occupied everything. The Germans brought their laws, and didn’t allow anyone to leave home and walk even a few kilometers without some special pass.
They would kill you. Germans were hanging people on trees. Valya saw that: young partisans on trees. She can see it to this day: There was an alley, and down this alley were young people hanging. Sometimes, on one tree, two people. Everyone in their village went down to look. They were all in horror, but they went to look, back then when she was sixteen and the Germans had overrun all this country she knew.
Her father had been working at the railway station, and the Germans passed through and kept him working. And he did. He had to earn a living. But they were very cruel in other places, and burned many villages. So, all the Russians who were working for the Germans in these villages were worried. They might be punished later. Certainly her father worried. He didn’t say anything; but everyone worried about her father being punished, and they talked about it among themselves, and later they would wonder whether Stalin would do something in time to come. Her family always felt marked. Yet, she was never a collaborator, never. She’d always lived honestly in her life. Besides, those Germans beat her father.
Valya still remembers. Their family had a cow but no fodder. And when trains would pass, hay was sometimes left on the station platform, swept out from boxcars. Her father would gather such remains. And one time, some Germans coming by on a train decided he looked Jewish because he had black hair and a black beard and black eyes and was wearing a hat. There were three Germans and they pounded his face and he lost some teeth
. Something was always wrong with his teeth after that.
When he managed to get back home that night, he cursed in a way Valya could not repeat. He said the strongest swear words, Iob ikh mat. Very strong. She could not say it aloud. It meant doing something sexual to your mother. All of Guri’s life, he remembered that beating. He had to stay home for two weeks. Later, he was afraid, but he went out again to pick up hay on the station platform because their cows needed it, and he always worried about being beaten again, but then, they were all afraid.
Later, the Germans took her father and her brothers and two of her uncles away. While they didn’t burn the railroad station, they smashed every window. And these Germans raped a lot of women, but not her stepmother, because she was not seductive enough, and none of her sisters or herself, because they were children. Then they tried to burn her house, but they lit it quickly and moved on, and Valya had some water she had been using for washing, so she poured enough on to stop their fire. Neighbors screamed at her and said if any Germans saw it, they’d burn other houses. It was very difficult. They were all standing in their yard, and these Germans had killed their dog, and all the villages around their station were burned.
Her father and her brothers had to stay a year and a half in the German prison camp, right until the end of war. It was fortunate that she could even see them. She and her younger sister and her stepmother would walk. It was thirty-five kilometers away, and they were allowed sometimes to bring food. Because there was a lot of snow, the family had killed their pigs and hid them. That way, her stepmother could boil meat and take it to her brothers and her father. In fact, they sacrificed their own food, though their men, in turn, insisted on giving back a portion. All the same, on their return, they would have to beg on the country roads. They were always hungry all this while that she was fifteen and sixteen, no shoes, no dresses. Once she heard her father talking to her stepmother, and he said, “My daughters are growing up without anything to put on. Take my suit; maybe you can alter it into a dress.”
And once, in fact, when Valya was fifteen and her sister fourteen, they were dressed in such old clothes that some Germans called them matki, which is a rude word, like “old bags.”