Berlin 1961 Part 9

Although the Soviet leaderas luck had changed far faster than he could have imagined, he knew he had to move faster still. The situation on the ground in Berlin remained stubbornly unchanged. A whole new generation was congregating in Berlin, eager to soak up the sights and atmosphere of the only city in the world where they could watch the worldas two feuding systems compete openly and without mediation.

Khrushchev wanted to take no chances about where it would all lead.

Jrn Donner Discovers the City.

What drew young Finnish writer Jrn Donner to Berlin was his conviction that the place was more of an idea than it was a city. For that reason, it served his postgraduate l.u.s.t for adventure and inspiration far better than any of the available alternatives.

Parisas Left Bank had Sartre and his disciples, Romeas Via Veneto offered its Dolce Vita, and nothing could rival Londonas Soho when it came to Donneras search for the combined attractions of learning and debauchery. Yet only Berlin could provide Donner such a unique window on the divided world in which he lived.

Donner considered the difference between East and West Berliners to be purely circ.u.mstantial, and thus they served as the perfect laboratory mice for the worldas most important social experiment. They had been the same Berliners shaped by the same history until 1945, when an abrupt application of different systems left one side with the decadent vices of prosperity and the other with the virtues of a straitjacket. Berliners had always been pinched geographically between Europe and Russia, but the Cold War had transformed that map into a psychological and geopolitical drama.

Twenty years later, Donner would produce Ingmar Bergmanas film f.a.n.n.y and Alexander, and it would win four Academy Awards. But, for the moment, he fashioned himself as a modern-day Christopher Isherwood, and, having just completed his studies at the University of Stockholm, he wanted to launch his artistic career by chronicling Berlin as the living history of his times.

Isherwoodas Goodbye to Berlin had tracked the improvised street battles between communists and n.a.z.is during the 1930s that were the prelude to World War II and the Holocaust. Donner regarded the story he would tell of no less historic significance, though the role of Berliners themselves would be more as pa.s.sive bystanders to the high politics that surrounded them.

Germans disparagingly employ the term Berliner Schnauze, or aBerlin snout,a to describe Berlinersa irreverent boisterousness, and none of that had been lost during their postwar occupation. Author Stephen Spender described Berlinersa apparent Cold War courage this way: aIf Berliners show a peculiar fearlessness which excites the almost unbelieving wonderment of the world, that is because they have reached that place on the far side of fear, where, being utterly at the mercy of the conflict of the great powers, they feel there is no use being afraid, and therefore they have nothing to be afraid of.a In the cold damp of the West Berlin subway, Donner studied the unpleasant, incurious Berlin faces that were at the center of his drama. Though the fate of humanity might be decided in their city, Donner found Berliners curiously apathetic, as if the reality were too much for them to absorb.

In a search for the right metaphor to describe the divided city, Donner would later apologize to his readers that he could not resist athe sleepwalkeras almost automatic maniaa to describe Berlinas division through the contrasting nature of its two most prominent avenuesa"West Berlinas Kurfrstendamm and East Berlinas Stalinallee.

Like West Berlin, the Kuadamm (as locals called it) had emerged from the chaos of the postwar years full of restless energy, neon lights, aspirational fashion, and new cafs and bars competing for expanding wallets. Like East Berlin, the Stalinallee concealed the underlying fragility of its society with its centrally planned neocla.s.sical grandeur, which dictated everything from each apartmentas size to the width of its hallways and height of its windows. State security directives determined precisely how many informants would be planted among what number of residents.

Though the heart of the Kuadamm was but four kilometers long, that stretch contained seventeen of the countryas most expensive jewelers, ten car dealers, and the cityas most exclusive restaurants. War widows begged on corners where they knew the cityas finest citizens would pa.s.s. One such spot was directly before Eduard Winteras Volkswagen showroom, where Berlinas richest man was known to sell thirty cars a day when not running his Coca-Cola distributorship.

Isherwood, whose book gave rise to the movie Cabaret, spoke of prewar Kuadamm as a acl.u.s.ter of expensive hotels, bars, cinemas, shopsaa sparkling nucleus of light, like a sham diamond, in the shabby twilight of the town.a The Cold War atmosphere remained much the same, though postwar reconstruction had introduced the sharper concrete and gla.s.s architectural edges of the 1950s.

The Kuadammas seedier side had also survived the war. In one tawdry bar, called The Old-Fashioned, Donner observed a Dsseldorf businessman licking the ear of a blond bar girl until she wearily drew back and his lips fell into her armpit. Berlin was a place where Germans came to pursue their pleasures in anonymity and without curfew, from its transvest.i.te bars to more conventional amus.e.m.e.nts. What happened in Berlin stayed in Berlin.

Across town in communist East Berlin, Donner found the Kuadammas alter ego. In 1949, in honor of Stalinas seventieth birthday, Ulbricht renamed the cityas grand Frankfurter Stra.s.se for the dictator, and it would keep his name through November 1961, even though he was dead and had been renounced by Khrushchev.* During World War IIas final days, Soviet soldiers had hung n.a.z.is from trees that lined the street, often fastening to their corpses identifying papers with the inscription: HERE HANGS SO-AND-SO, BECAUSE HE REFUSED TO DEFEND WIFE AND CHILD.

Ulbricht had rebuilt the street as Stalinallee to be a showcase for the power and capabilities of communism, athe first socialist road of Germany,a whose purpose was to provide apalaces for the working cla.s.s.a So construction crews from 1952 to 1960 produced a long row of eight-story apartment houses of Stalinist monumental architecture. Wartime rubble was transformed into high-ceilinged flats with balconies, elevators, ceramic tiling, marble staircases, anda"a luxury at the timea"baths in every apartment. To provide a sufficiently wide and long promenade for military marches, builders made Stalinallee a tree-studded, six-lane, ninety-meter-wide, two-kilometer-long highway. Stalinallee would provide the backdrop for the annual May Day parade, but it also was where the 1953 workersa uprising gained its momentum.

Only a short distance from Stalinallee, Donner described the quiet desperation of East Berliners who had pa.s.sed through the ravages of World War II, only to again land on the wrong side of history. The Raabe-Diele was one of the oldest pubs in Berlin and sat on Sperlingsga.s.se, a narrow lane still blocked in the middle by wartime ruins that had not yet been cleared. It had but three tables, a counter, benches along the walls, and simple, tattered chairs.

Its sole proprietor was Frau Friedrich Konarske, who at age eighty-two had worked the same counter for fifty-seven years. She would not discuss her own sad life but happily gossiped with Donner about her clientele, all men save for a loud, forty-something woman who drank straight shots while recounting her stomach operations.

aTen drunk men are better than one half-sober female,a complained Konarske.

Two middle-aged men strummed their guitars at a table by the window and sang sentimental songs. As they prepared to go home, a man with a hunchback shouted a last request in a squeaky voice. aPlay aLili Marlene.a Thatas what I want to hear. And then Iall buy you a round.a The best-dressed man in the bara"and who, because of that, the others took to be a Communist Party member or state security officera"shouted his objection on the grounds that the song had been one of Hitleras favorites.

The hunchback protested angrily, aWhatas that? aLili Marlenea was played during the war in order to give voicea"yes, to give voicea"to the longing of the soldiers for peace. It has nothing to do with n.a.z.ism.a And it was true: the song had been written during World War I by soldier Hans Leip while he marched to the Russian front from Berlin. The hunchback protested that even Americans and Englishmen loved the song.

aItas a universal melody!a shouted an inebriated young man who looked like he had been a boxer, with his large, flat nose, cauliflower ears, and finger-tips yellowed by nicotine. One after another of Frau Konarskeas clientele sounded agreement in an uprising against the supposed communist, but the singers still hesitated, as momentary acts of defiance could result in long jail sentences.

Made courageous by drink, the boxer type threatened the well-dressed man: aIf you donat want to listen, you can leave.a He then began to sing the first verse alone, after which the two musicians joined in, followed by one additional voice after the other, until the entire pub joined in song around the still-silent man in the dark suit who sipped his beer.

Frau Konarske offered drinks on the house. She then took Donner aside and showed him the small, framed text behind her on the wall, dating from World War II. It read: WE SHALL GO TO OUR DEATH JUST AS NAKED AS WE CAME INTO THE WORLD.

She asked the stranger, aDo you think that anyone will take over my place after I am gone? All my relatives and friends are in West Germany. Do you think they want to come over to East Berlin and work in a little hole from ten in the morning until two at night?a She answered her own question: aNo.a

9.

PERILOUS DIPLOMACY.

The American government and the president are concerned that the Soviet leadership underestimates the capabilities of the U.S. government and those of the president himself.

Robert Kennedy to Soviet military intelligence agent Georgi Bolshakov, May 9, 1961 Berlin is a festering sore which has to be eliminated.

Premier Khrushchev to U.S. Amba.s.sador Llewellyn E. Thompson Jr., at the Ice Capades in Moscow, on the goal of the Vienna Summit, May 26, 1961 WASHINGTON, D.C.

TUESDAY, MAY 9, 1961.

Wearing a white shirt, a loosened tie, and a jacket held casually over one shoulder, U.S. Attorney General Robert Kennedy bounded down the steps of the side entrance to the Department of Justice on Pennsylvania Avenue and extended his hand to Soviet spy Georgi Bolshakov.

aHi, Georgi, long time no see,a the attorney general said, as if reacquainting himself with a long-lost friend, though he had met him only briefly once, some seven years earlier. Beside Kennedy stood Ed Guthman, the Pulitzer Prizea"winning reporter who had become his press officer and sounding board. Guthman had arranged the unprecedented meeting through the man who had delivered Bolshakov by taxi and stood beside him, New York Daily News correspondent Frank Holeman.

aSo shall we take a walk?a Kennedy asked Bolshakov. The attorney generalas casual manner was disarming, considering the unconventional, unprecedented contact he was about to initiate. He nodded to Guthman and Holeman to stay behind as he and the Russian spy walked onto the Washington Mall in the spring evening mist, making small talk about the magazine that Bolshakov had been editing that day.

At Kennedyas suggestion, the two men sat on a secluded patch of lawn, the air scented with freshly mowed gra.s.s. The U.S. Capitol stood in the background to one side, and the Washington Monument to the other, with the Smithsonian Castleas front gate directly behind them. Lovers on early evening walks and small groups of tourists looked to the rain clouds above, which threatened a storm.

Bolshakov described his closeness to Khrushchev, and he offered himself up as a more useful and direct contact to the Soviet leader than Moscowas amba.s.sador to the United States, Mikhail Menshikov, whom Bobby and his brother had come to consider a clown.

Bobby told Bolshakov that his brother was eager to meet with Khrushchev, and that he hoped to improve communication in the run-up to their first meeting so that the two sides could get the agenda right. The attorney general said he already knew about Bolshakovas links to some of Khrushchevas top people and was confident he could play that role, if he was willing. aIt would be great if they receive information firsthand, from you,a Bobby said. aAnd they, I believe, would have a chance to report it to Khrushchev.a After a roll of thunder, Kennedy joked, aIf a bolt of lightning kills me, the papers will report a Russian spy killed the presidentas brother. It could trigger a war. Letas get away from here.a They first walked briskly and then accelerated to a run to escape the downpour, regrouping in the attorney generalas office after riding up in his private elevator. They removed their wet shirts and continued their conversation while wearing undershirts and sitting in a tiny room with two armchairs, a refrigerator, and a small library.

Thus began one of the most unique anda"even years thereaftera"only partially understood relationships of the Cold War. From that day forward, the attorney general and Bolshakov would communicate frequentlya"during some periods as often as two or three times monthly. It was an exchange that went almost entirely unreported and undoc.u.mented, an omission Robert Kennedy would later regret. He never took notes at the meetings, and reported on them directly and only orally to his brother. Thus the Bolshakova"Kennedy exchanges can be reconstructed only imperfectly through a dissatisfying Robert Kennedy oral history, Soviet records, Bolshakovas partial recollections, and the memories of several others who were involved at one point or another.

President Kennedy had approved of his brotheras initial meeting with Bolshakov without consulting or advising any of his chief foreign policy advisers or Soviet experts. That reflected the Kennedysa increased distrust of his intelligence and military apparatus following the Bay of Pigs, their penchant for clandestine activities, and their desire to put the pieces in place as carefully as possible for a smooth summit meeting.

For Khrushchev, however, Bolshakov was more of a useful p.a.w.n than a significant player. On a complex chessboard, Khrushchev could deploy Bolshakov to draw out Kennedy without revealing his own game. From the beginning, the structure of the exchange provided the Soviet leader with an advantage. President Kennedy could learn from Bolshakov only what Khrushchev and other superiors had provided him to transmit, while Bolshakov could extract much more from Bobby Kennedy, who so intimately knew the president and his thinking.

Bolshakov was just one of two channels Khrushchev was working to reach Kennedy in early May, and while top Soviet officials engaged in both to their maximum benefit, their U.S. counterparts knew only about the formal contact made five days earlier. It was then that Foreign Minister Andrei Gromyko had telephoned Amba.s.sador Thompson with Khrushchevas belated response to Kennedyas letter of two months earlier, inviting the Soviet leader to a summit meeting.

Gromyko had apologized to Thompson that Khrushchev himself could not personally transmit his interest. The Soviet leader was leaving Moscow for yet another trip to the provinces to put the pieces in place for his October Party Congress, and he would not return until May 20. But speaking on Khrushchevas behalf, Gromyko said the Soviet leader adeplored the fact that discorda had grown between the two countries over the Bay of Pigs and Laos.

Reading carefully scripted language, Gromyko said, aIf the Soviet Union and the U.S. do not consider that there is an unbridgeable gulf between them, they should draw the appropriate conclusions from this, namely that we live on one planet and therefore ways should be found to settle appropriate questions and build up our relations.a Motivated by that end, Gromyko said Khrushchev was now ready to accept Kennedyas invitation to meet, and believed abridges have to be built which would link our countries.a What Gromyko wanted to know from Thompson was whether the Kennedy invitation aremains valid or is being reviseda after the Bay of Pigs. Though Gromyko had posed the question politely, its underlying message was an impertinent one. He was asking whether Kennedy still dared meet with Khrushchev after having so badly shot himself in the foot in Cuba.

With that, Khrushchevas approach to President Kennedy had entered its third stage. The first had been Khrushchevas initial flurry of efforts to meet Kennedy directly after the U.S. election and during his first days in office. The second had been Khrushchevas withdrawal of interest following the new presidentas hawkish State of the Union message. Now Khrushchev was again eager to meet and press his perceived advantage over a now weakened opponent.

Thompson put down the phone and prepared a cable. He immediately concluded that if the president wished to reverse a perilous worsening of relations, the dangers of agreeing to such a meeting were far outweighed by its necessity. Thompson followed his 4:00 p.m. secret telegram reporting on his conversation with Gromyko with a similarly cla.s.sified message to Secretary Rusk that urged the president to grasp Khrushchevas extended hand. Critics would argue that Kennedy was walking like wounded prey into a bear trap, but Thompson suggested Kennedy reveal publicly that he had issued the invitation to Khrushchev long before the Bay of Pigs, and that the Soviet leader was only now responding.

Thompson then laid out his arguments in favor of the meeting: The very prospect of such a summit would prompt the Soviets to take a amore reasonable approacha to issues such as Laos, nuclear testing, and disarmament.

A face-to-face meeting would be the best place for Kennedy to influence crucial decisions of the October Party Congress that could set the stage for the superpower relationship for years to come.

Because Mao Tse-tung opposed such U.S.a"Soviet consultations, Thompson suggested the amere fact of meeting will exacerbate Sovieta"Chinese relations.a Finally, showing the world a willingness to talk directly to Khrushchev would influence public opinion in a way that would make it easier for Kennedy to maintain a strong U.S. position in favor of defending West Berlinas freedoms.

Despite the negative turn in relations with Moscow, Thompson also argued that Khrushchev had not fundamentally altered his desire to do business with the West, nor had he abandoned his foreign policy doctrine of peaceful coexistence. Thompson often worried about being labeled by his Washington critics as a Khrushchev apologist, but he nevertheless argued that the Soviet leader had not initiated confrontation with the West in the Third World but had merely taken advantage of U.S. setbacks in Cuba, Laos, Iraq, and the Congo.

However, too much was at stake for Kennedy to agree to such a summit without preconditions that would more thoroughly test Soviet intentionsa"and avoid further foreign policy mistakes. Through diplomatic probes, Kennedy wanted to determine whether Khrushchev genuinely wished to improve relations.

After a day of reflection, Kennedy responded cautiously to Thompson through Rusk. Rusk wanted the amba.s.sador to tell Khrushchev that the president aremains desirousa to meet the Soviet leader and hoped they could still do so by early June in Viennaa"the Sovietsa preferred location. Kennedy regretted, however, that he couldnat yet make a firm decision but would do so before Khrushchev returned to Moscow on May 20.

What followed were the conditions.

Most important, Rusk cabled that Thompson should relay to Khrushchev that the chances for such a summit werenat good if the Soviets didnat change their approach to the ongoing conflict in Laos. The Geneva talks were beginning the following week, and Kennedy wanted to end the war and achieve a neutral Laos. But the Soviets had been stalling in Geneva while fighting escalated.

Special envoy Averell Harriman, who was leading the U.S. delegation in Geneva, had reported to Kennedy that he doubted Khrushchev was ready to accept a neutral Laos because the acommies in Geneva are full of confidence and appear utterly relaxed about achieving their goals in Laos.a The Soviets, Harriman said, were maneuvering to put the U.S. in the unacceptable position of having to attend the conference before they had an effective ceasefire, hardly the actions of a country that would engage usefully in a summit meeting.

Beyond that, Rusk told Thompson that afor domestic political reasons,a the president wanted Khrushchev to provide some prospect that he would work toward Kennedyas goal of achieving a nuclear test ban agreement during their Vienna talks. Furthermore, the president wanted a.s.surance that any public statement in Vienna would exclude reference to Berlin, a matter he was unprepared to negotiate.

Three days later, President Kennedy was test-driving the same message via his brother as RFK sat in his undershirt with Bolshakov at the Justice Department.

It suited Bolshakov fine that Bobby had picked May 9a"a national holiday in Moscowa"for their first, furtive meeting. Though it was just another workday in Washington, the Soviet emba.s.syas staff had the day off to celebrate the sixteenth anniversary of the n.a.z.i defeat. That served Bolshakovas purpose of concealing even from his closest comrades the ultrasecret conduit to President Kennedy that he had established.

In going forward with the contact, Bolshakov had disregarded the opposition of his nearest superior, the station chief, or rezident, at the emba.s.sy for Soviet military intelligence, the GRU. For Bolshakovas boss, it was unthinkable that a mid-level Soviet agent would establish the most important U.S.a"Soviet intelligence back channel imaginable. In meeting with Robert Kennedy, Bolshakov was connecting with a man who was at the same time the presidentas brother, his closest confidant, and his attorney general, thus overseeing all the counterintelligence activities of the FBI.

What gave Bolshakov the confidence to nevertheless pursue such a high-level mission was the sanction of the Soviet leader himself through Khrushchevas son-in-law, Alexei Adzhubei, editor of the newspaper Izvestia and Bolshakovas friend. Adzhubei had recommended Bolshakov to Khrushchev as someone who could help counsel him when he was planning his first trip to the U.S. in 1959. (Until shortly before then, Bolshakov had loyally served Marshal Georgy Zhukov, the decorated war hero and defense minister whom Khrushchev had purged.) What followed was Bolshakovas new posting to the U.S. under the cover of emba.s.sy information officer and editor of the English-language Soviet propaganda magazine USSR. It would be Bolshakovas second tour in Washington, the first having come under cover as correspondent for the news agency Ta.s.s from 1951 to 1955.

For a cloak-and-dagger operative, Bolshakov had an unusually high profile as Washington societyas favorite Soviet. He was a gregarious, hard-drinking bon vivant with wisps of black hair, piercing blue eyes, and a central-casting Russian accent. His friends and acquaintances included a number of Kennedy circle insiders: Washington Post editor Ben Bradlee; reporter Charles Bartlett, who had introduced the president to his wife, Jacqueline; the presidentas chief of staff, Kenny OaDonnell; his special counsel, Ted Sorensen; and his press secretary, Pierre Salinger.

However, Bolshakovas most important link to Kennedy had been Frank Holeman, a Washington journalist who had been close to Nixon and was now trying to ingratiate himself with the Kennedy administration. With his six-foot-eight frame, Southern accent and manners, deep voice, and ever-present bow tie and cigar, he was known by colleagues as athe Colonel.a Though only forty years old, Holeman was a Washington fixture, having covered presidents Roosevelt, Truman, Eisenhower, and now Kennedy. He knew Washington was all about contacts, and he had them everywhere.

Bolshakov had worked Holeman as an unpaid informant from the time they had met at a 1951 Soviet emba.s.sy lunch in the American correspondentas honor. Holeman had endeared himself to the Kremlin by blocking a National Press Club effort to ban Soviet journalists from membership in response to the Czech governmentas jailing of the entire a.s.sociated Press bureau in Prague. Explaining why he had done so, Holeman joked that the club should be a place where all parties could aswap lies.a He then went even further on behalf of the Soviets, landing club membership for a new Soviet press officer, an individual likely to be a spy.

When Bolshakov returned to Moscow in 1955, he handed off the Holeman contact to his GRU successor, Yuri Gvozdev, whose cover was as a cultural attach. Gvozdev had pa.s.sed through Holeman, who described himself as the Sovietsa acarrier pigeon,a a crucial message that the Eisenhower administration should not overreact to Khrushchevas November 1958 Berlin ultimatum because Khrushchev would never go to war over Berlin. Working through Holeman, Gvozdev also helped lay the groundwork for Nixonas visit to the Soviet Union thereafter, handling negotiations over the conditions.

When Bolshakov replaced Gvozdev in 1959, he reacquainted himself with Holeman and the two struck up such a close friendship that their families often got together socially. As fortune would have it, Holeman had been close for some years to the new attorney generalas press secretary, Ed Guthman, to whom he had been pa.s.sing on the most interesting aspects of his conversations with Bolshakov. Guthman in turn had reported the gist of those talks to Robert Kennedy. With Guthmanas blessing, Holeman on April 29 first floated the possibility of a meeting when he asked Bolshakov, aDonat you think it would be better to meet directly with Robert Kennedy so that he receives your information at first hand?a Ten days and countless conversations later, Bolshakov sensed something important was up when Holeman asked if he would join him for a alate luncha at about four p.m.

aWhy so late?a Bolshakov asked.

Holeman explained he had tried to reach Bolshakov several times over the course of the day but that the holiday duty officer had told him Bolshakov was at the printing office, finishing the new edition of his magazine.

A short time later, after they had settled into the chairs in the corner of a cozy, inconspicuous Georgetown restaurant, Holeman looked at his watch. When Bolshakov asked whether it was time for him to go home, Holeman said, aNo, itas our time to go. You have an appointment with Robert Kennedy at six.a ad.a.m.n it,a said Bolshakov, looking at his old suit and frayed shirt cuffs. aWhy didnat you tell me before?a aAre you afraid?a asked Holeman.

aNot afraid, but Iam not ready for such a meeting.a aYou are always ready.a Holeman smiled.

At the Justice Department, Bobby told the Soviet his brother worried that tension between the two countries was caused in large degree by misunderstanding and misinterpretation of each otheras intentions and actions. Through the Bay of Pigs experience, Bobby said, his brother had learned about the dangers of taking action based on bad information. He told Bolshakov that his brother had made a mistake after the Bay of Pigs in failing to immediately fire the senior officials responsible for the operation.

aThe American government and the President,a said Bobby, aare concerned that the Soviet leadership underestimates the capabilities of the U.S. government and those of the President himself.a The message he wanted Bolshakov to relay to the Kremlin could not have been clearer: If Khrushchev tried to test his brotheras resolve, the president would have no choice but to atake corrective actiona and introduce a tougher approach toward Moscow.

He told Bolshakov, aAt present, our princ.i.p.al concern is the situation in Berlin. The importance of this issue may not be evident to everybody. The President thinks that further misunderstanding of our opinions on Berlin could lead to a war.a Yet, he added, it was precisely because of the complications of the Berlin situation that the president didnat want the Vienna meeting to focus on a matter where it would be so difficult to achieve progress.

What the president wanted, Bobby told Bolshakov, was for Khrushchev and his brother to use the meeting as a chance to better understand each other, to create personal ties, and to outline a course to further develop their relationship. He wanted real agreements on matters like the nuclear test ban. On Berlin, however, he believed in delaying significant diplomatic steps until both sides had had more time to thoroughly study the matter.

For an individual who had only been called to join the meeting a couple of hours earlier, the Soviet seemed well prepared to respond. If the top U.S. and Soviet leaders met, Bolshakov said, Khrushchev would then consider asubstantiala concessions on nuclear testing, and would also offer progress on Laos. Bolshakov did not comment on RFKas insistence that Berlin remain off-limits in any summit decisions, which Bobby may have misinterpreted as agreement.

Encouraged by Bolshakovas response, Bobby sketched out a potential nuclear test ban deal. The two countries had been negotiating at lower levels since 1958, but their sticking point was verification. The U.S. had sought without success the right to inspect sites in the Soviet Union. Bobby proposed a unilateral concession under which the U.S. would cut in half, from twenty to ten, the number of inspections it was demanding each year on each otheras territory to investigate seismic events. The condition for this agreement, he said, would be that neither side would veto the creation of an international commission that could monitor complaints.

Behind Bobbyas proposal lay a growing U.S. fear that the Soviets were digging holes so deep and large that they could conceal a weapons test. The most annual inspections Moscow had been willing to accept previously were three. And Moscow wanted any verification to be performed by a atroikaaa"three officials representing the Soviet bloc, the capitalist West, and the Third World. U.S. officials had opposed that approach as it would have granted a Soviet representative a de facto veto. Said Bobby, aThe President does not want to repeat the sad experience of Khrushchevas meeting with Eisenhower at Camp David and hopes that this forthcoming meeting will produce concrete agreements.a Playing the role of suitor, Bolshakov said nothing that would make Bobby believe the presidentas preconditions for a summit were unacceptable to Khrushchev. There was only one problem: Bolshakov was a mere message carrier who could not know Khrushchevas mind as well as Bobby knew that of his brother.

The perils to the U.S. of the Bolshakova"Bobby Kennedy contact were deep and multiple. Bolshakov could deceive on Moscowas behalf without knowing he was doing so, while Bobby was far less likely to engage in disinformation and, even if he had tried, would have been less skilled in doing so. Beyond that, Bolshakov almost undoubtedly was tailed by FBI agents. Reports back from field agents on their meetings could have increased FBI boss J. Edgar Hooveras suspicions of the Kennedys.

Finally, Bolshakov lacked Bobbyas license to horse-trade. And because JFK would keep the contacts secret even from his own top Cabinet members until after the Vienna Summit, he had no independent means to verify Bolshakovas reliability. Moscow not only controlled what Bolshakov could discuss, it also determined the precise manner in which he would raise issues. If Robert Kennedy raised a matter for which Bolshakov was unprepared, the Soviet spy would respond that he would consider the issue and get back to the attorney general later.

The most important messages Bolshakov brought back from his first meeting with Bobby relayed the presidentas readiness for a summit, his fear that the Soviet leader perceived him as weak, his aversion to negotiating Berlinas status, and his desire above all else to achieve a nuclear test ban deal. Bobby came away from the initial contact unable to provide his brother any greater insight into Khrushchev. He was at the same time gaining the false impression that Khrushchev was ready to accept his brotheras conditions.

After five hours of conversation, Bobby gave Bolshakov a ride home. Kept awake by adrenaline, the Soviet operative stayed up all night before cabling a full report to Moscow early the next morning. Through Bolshakov, Khrushchev knew far better what Kennedy hoped to achieve through a summit and what he feared about it. At the same time, he had effectively misled the president about what the Soviet side was willing to accept.

MOSCOW.

FRIDAY, MAY 12, 1961.

Eager to close agreement for a Vienna Summit, Khrushchev rapidly satisfied Kennedyas desire for confidence-building gestures.

In Geneva, Soviet officials negotiating Laos reached agreement with British representatives on a formula to defuse an impending crisis. The result would be a fourteen-nation conference on Laos in Geneva, with the goal of an end to hostilities and a neutral Laos.

On the same day, Khrushchev delivered a speech in Tbilisi, in the Soviet republic of Georgia, that senior State Department officials considered the most moderate Soviet statement on U.S.a"Soviet relations since the U-2 incident the previous May. Repeating language he had used in his acceptance of Kennedyas summit invitation, Khrushchev said, aAlthough President Kennedy and I are men of different poles, we live on the same Earth. We have to find a common language on certain questions.a On that day, too, Khrushchev sent a letter to Kennedy accepting his invitation of nearly two months earlier to a summit meeting. The letter made no mention of a nuclear test ban, though it touched upon areas where they might make progress, such as Laos. However, Khrushchev was not willing to lay Berlin to the side. He said he did not seek unilateral advantage in the divided city, but wanted through their meeting to remove a adangerous source of tension in Europe.a Now it was Kennedyas move.

WASHINGTON, D.C.

SUNDAY, MAY 14, 1961.

Not wanting to appear rushed, Kennedy took forty-eight hours to reply. He was unhappy about Khrushchevas failure to embrace the test ban issue and his insistence on discussing Berlin. The Soviet leaderas letter had walked away from Kennedyas preconditions as relayed by Bobby to Bolshakov. Yet for all the perils, Kennedy saw no option but to agree to the meeting.

Khrushchevas Tbilisi speech and his gestures on Laos were encouraging. However, the awkward truth was that what could be one of the most decisive meetings since World War II was less than one month off and there would be little time for the two sides to reach agreement on what diplomats referred to as the summitas adeliverables.a To veteran diplomats, the presidentas haste looked restless and naive.