The King of Vodka (18 page)
Authors: Linda Himelstein
His brothers stated in legal documents some years later that Nikolay had battled alcoholism for years. He tried, to a large extent successfully, to keep his outsized appetite for liquor in check for the sake of his disapproving father, but he had a propensity for dangerous and deviant conduct. Later, Nikolay's freewheeling spending of his father's fortune would cause problems. He once purchased a diamond necklace made by Fabergé for a favored lover, an extravagance that cost 16,000 rubles ($195,000
today).
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He also purchased a silver chamber pot for 200 rubles, or more than $2,500 today. A regular around Moscow's raging nightclub circuit, Nikolay often shepherded different women on his arm. He was not interested in gainful employment of any kind, preferring instead to spend his time more playfully.
Not surprisingly, Smirnov found his son's destructive and erratic behavior disgraceful, viewing Nikolay like a raft with a small leak in it. Smirnov, who did love his son, could not afford to allow Nikolay to take his company down with him. His son's drinking binges could be lethal, playing right into the hands of temperance advocates and monopoly proponents. If Nikolay Smirnov could not control his thirst, how could helpless peasants be expected to? Smirnov, always the pragmatist, made the practical choice. He kept Nikolay away from his business, focusing instead on finding him a mate able to help control him.
Vladimir, handsome, charismatic, and talented, presented a different conundrum for Smirnov. “Vladimir looked like his motherâblond, with blue eyes, well proportioned, well put together, and tall. He was naturally charming and always elegant.”
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He was in some ways the ideal heir. He had a smoothness about him that stemmed from supreme confidence. He was smart, conversant in at least three languages beyond his native tongue. He was quick-witted and artistically and musically gifted. He also had a powerful advocate in his mother, Mariya, who was devoted to securing her eldest son's place in the family hierarchy.
Vladimir, too, had his vices. Like Nikolay, he had a passion for unsuitable women, a love of gambling, particularly horse racing, and a spending problem. He often sought out the company of actresses or singers. Unbeknown to his father, Vladimir loved to pass time at a fashionable restaurant in Moscow that played host to the best gypsy singers in town. It was a party hub, attracting many fellow playboys. According to the memoirs of Vladimir's third wife, Tatiana Smirnova-Maksheyeva, this pen
chant for the carefree, somewhat debauched lifestyle, cost Vladimir a great love and drove a wedge between son and father.
He was 18 years old when, secretly from his father, he became a regular customer at the famous Moscow restaurant called Yar, where a gypsy choir sang. Vladimir made friends with the choir members, learned how to play the guitar, and often stood behind the choir, singing along with pleasure. Among the gypsy women soloists was a young girl named Katya. He fell in love with Katya and signed promissory notes for a large sum to a Moscow money-lender to purchase lots of brooches, bracelets, earrings and rings, decorated with diamonds. He gave all this to Katya and, as was required, paid the choir 50,000 rubles for her. His involvement with Katya and his prank with the promissory notes soon became known to Pyotr Arsenievich. He became upset, calling the money-lender, paid him for the promissory notes, and forbade him to ever show himself again and threatened to sue him if he ever lends money again to any of Smirnov's sons.
After this, Pyotr ordered Vladimir be locked up in his room and not allowed to leave or to go anywhere. Before this, they had a confrontation. Vladimir pleaded with his father, saying that he had “fallen in love with Katya forever and could not live without her.”
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It is impossible now to verify Tatiana Smirnova-Maksheyeva's remembrances of her husband's youth in Moscow, but plenty of evidence confirms that Vladimir adored women, loved the good life, and squandered money. It is also certain that Smirnov saw his third son differently than he saw Nikolay. He was more optimistic about Vladimir's future prospects and took steps to set him on a more respectable path, suggesting that he seek work experience and adventure away from his homeland.
I [Smirnov] have decided to send you on a business trip for a year to China to deal with some affairs of our firm. If your love endures the separation, I will allow you to marry your gypsy woman. For now, you will sit in your room, locked up. [Smirnov told his son.]
Vladimir was in complete despair but had to obey his father's wishes. Sitting in solitary confinement, he burnt the letter “K” above his elbow, using a very hot pin. This “K” remained on his arm for the rest of his life.
Soon, Pyotr Arsenievich sent his son to China, under the guardianship of his own brother to whom he [Smirnov] gave a sum of money for the trip. Pyotr allowed his son to say good-bye to Katya. She came to the train station when the train was about to leave. They were both crying. That was their last meeting.
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Vladimir's granddaughter, Kira Smirnova, who lives in Moscow, believes her grandfather went to China.
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She has an incense burner she says Vladimir purchased during his time there, a keepsake that has been handed down to her. The trip also would have been in keeping with Smirnov's image as a strong patriarch, decisive and authoritative when it came to his children's upbringing and social standing. He did not tolerate indecent behavior, particularly when it could undermine his company or his own finely sculpted image. What's more, the trip abroad might have been part of an effort to expand Smirnov's global presence prior to Russia's enactment of the vodka monopoly. Indeed, Smirnov opened up in markets where liquor was traded more freelyâfrom Japan to China to France. In the 1890s his liquors were on the menus in fine hotels across Europe and in other locales where wealthy Russians might be
found. He also became purveyor to the royal courts in Sweden, Norway, and later, Spain.
Vladimir likely spent his year in China, building relationships with local traders and learning more about the Chinese liquor industry. But according to his third wife, the journey did not mellow Vladimirâat least not right away. Almost immediately after leaving port, he reverted into his old habits.
On the steamship to China, Vladimir was bored and got involved in a card game, losing a large sum as a result. He had to ask his uncle for help. The uncle became upset and categorically refused to pay for his nephew's losses. What was to be done? Without giving it a second thought, Vladimir took up the guitar he had taken with him on the trip and started singing gypsy romances, walking around the deck and at the dinner table during meals. He was a great success. People stuck cash into the round opening of his guitar. Each performance was followed by loud applause. He paid back the money he had lost in the card game in full but did not play cards again, suspecting that he had been the victim of card sharks.
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The gambling was one thing; Vladimir's weakness for women was another. After arriving in the country, he began romancing a married woman. The doomed affair ended abruptly when Smirnov called his son back to Russia. It had been exactly twelve months since Vladimir had gone away. Upon returning, he pleased his father by involving himself more in the company's affairs and business operations. Still, though, he thought of the woman who had so thoroughly captivated him. He went to Yar in search of Katya. Instead of finding her, Vladimir learned that she had married and suffered a mental breakdown after giving birth to a stillborn child. Her body was later found in a ravine.
“It was never known whether she had committed suicide or fell prey to a murderer.”
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HE MONOPOLY STILL
loomed for Smirnov. It was like an immense gray cloud in the distance, blackening as it made its approach. It was advancing, slowly though, bogged down in a thicket of logistics. The big question for Smirnov was how much damage it would cause.
In the meantime, the vodka maker prepared himself. More exposure to his name and products on the world stage was imperative, if only to remind the monarchy of its pride in Smirnov's brand. Witte, in particular, was sensitive to Russia's economic reputation, desirous that the world see his country as a leader among modern industrialized nations, ready to embrace new technologies and more capitalistic institutions. That was likely one reason behind Smirnov's decision to send a sizable collection of his rum, vodkas, liqueurs, and cordials in 1893 to the World's Columbian Exposition: the famous Chicago World's Fair. It was a highly visible platform internationally and an ideal location for affirming Smirnov's goods as Russia's best. In a company profile submitted for the fair, Smirnov stated that he employed 1,200 men, produced 2,000,000 pails of 40-degree vodka each year, and had annual revenue of 15 million rubles ($180.3 million today).
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Russia sent plenty of other representatives to the exposition, including a delegation from the monarch himself and more than 1,000 exhibitors. Products ranged from furs to samovars to silks. The fair also boasted a variety of firsts, including an entire building devoted to electrical exhibits crafted by the likes of Thomas Edison and Nikola Tesla. The fair debuted the
Ferris wheel, Juicy Fruit gum, and Aunt Jemima pancake mix. For Smirnov, who likely did not attend the event personally, the agenda at the fair was simple and self-serving. He got what he wanted, receiving top honors for his liquors.
This strong showing in Chicago was significant. Russia, under Witte's direction, was pursuing a broad economic agenda, hoping to improve the domestic economy and buttress the nation's international stature. Protectionist policies, inspired and developed by renowned chemist Dmitriy Mendeleyev, best known for creating the periodic table of elements, helped fuel heavy industry growth at home. Sectors ranging from iron to steel to railroads thrived as a result of dramatic influxes of cash collected from steep import tariffs. By 1895 Russia had become the largest producer of oil in the world. Foreign investment was up almost fourfold in the decade. Moscow was booming, too, as villagers flooded the city in search of work in factories and on construction projects.
The 1890s were a healthy period overall for most Russian businesses. New technologies and modern infrastructure kept the marketplace buzzing. Smirnov, too, advanced his manufacturing capabilities, adding electricity to his factory operations. Though not claiming to be first, Smirnov advertised that he was
among
the first to install electrical lighting in his factory, demonstrating to the Imperial Palace his willingness to embrace progress no matter the cost.
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Smirnov wanted to be seen as part of his country's economic future, somebody who could thrive in and adapt to a changing environment. The Chicago fair and cutting-edge facilities helped make the point.
Smirnov also expanded his philanthropy, cementing his reputation as an upstanding, charitable merchant and strengthening his ties with the monarchy. Among other acts, he paid for the renovation of twenty-eight sterling silver arks containing bones of Russian saints. The project, which included the building of a reliquary made of metal and thick glass in the church where Smirnov served as church warden, was important enough that it had to be approved personally by Aleksander III. The newspapers wrote about Smirnov's gift and the sanctification
of the reliquary, noting that the priest called Smirnov “a God-loving donator.”
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The attention to Smirnov's largesse benefitted his cause, but it was the Imperial Court's personal support of the vodka maker that mattered most. Unfortunately, just days after the reliquary's sanctification, Aleksander III died of pneumonia. Prayers had been said for the tsar's failing health at one of Smirnov's bulk wine warehouses as well as at other operations throughout Russia, but it was not enough. Nikolay II, the last Russian tsar, prepared to assume the throne.
His ascension was a wild card for Smirnovâand Witte. The new tsar was relatively unknown and untested. The
New York Times
described him as a “slender young man, something under the middle height, with narrow, sloping shoulders and an awkward carriage of the neck and head. He has yellowish hair and a beard which is trimmed so as to produce an almost grotesque resemblance to his cousin, the Duke of Yorkâ¦. The Tsar Nikolay has small furtive gray eyes, unpleasantly close together.” An interview with a royal tutor in the same article suggested Nikolay II was less interested in autocratic rule than his father, Aleksander III, had been. The tutor commented that the new tsar was “an amiable, light-hearted youngster of extremely limited brain powerâ¦. He detests the military life and is bored by politics. The notion of authority and personal power rather repels than attracts him.”
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Of course, other commentators of the time hailed the new leader, praising Nikolay's strength of character and looking on his future rule with great optimism. They predicted that he would serve as a formidable champion of a strong monarchy.
It is unclear how Smirnov viewed the leadership shift and what it might mean for Russia. He had been through these royal machinations before, but he had never before been in such a precarious situation. With the monopoly just months away from its trial run, Tsar Nikolay II's loyalties and intentions would be piv
otal in determining how quickly the private vodka trade might come under attack.
Witte, who had been a close confidante of Aleksander III, still looked on Nikolay II as a youngster, someone too immature to lead Russia. Witte, nevertheless, was hopeful his new boss would be a strong partner, even if he adopted a different blueprint for the government than his father had. “When Emperor Nikolay II ascended the throne, he had, if one may put it this way, an aura of resplendent good will. He truly desired happiness and a peaceful life for Russia, for all his subjects, whatever nationality they might belong to. There is no question that he has a thoroughly good, kind heart,” Witte wrote in his memoirs.
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This meant that the new monarch would likely be sympathetic to any effort to rid Russians of their liquor dependency. This again was Witte's focus when he stated in 1894: “The reform must be directed, first of all towards increasing popular sobriety, and only then can it concern itself with the interests of the treasury.”
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