TRAVEL

Pack your bags and journey back one hundred years, when transatlantic travel took three weeks on a steam ship. A time when most immigrants had recently arrived in America, and only the elite could afford European summer holidays. Yet, Cincinnati Post artist Manuel Rosenberg was awarded the rare opportunity to travel in style on three occasions in 1922, 1926, and 1929. Drawings from his 1929 Russia trip provided a rare glance into a world little known to most Americans.

‘Rosie’ SKETCHES Russia

AND THEN he came home with a great portfolio of sketches and stories under his arm. But wait a minute—coming home was not as easy as it sounds. There are a lot of things in Russia that Russian officialdom doesn’t want sketched. A little thing like that didn’t bother Rosie. He sketched ‘em. The police confiscated the sketches and stories. Neither did that bother Rosie. He had the scenes photographed indelibly in his memory and he merely reproduced them and rewrote the stories as soon as he succeeded in getting across the border. Getting across the border was something else again. Rosie says Russia for a live-wire artist is like a mousetrap for a hungry mouse. It’s easy to get in, but not so easy to get out with the bait. Rosie decided to come home by way of Poland. He started and got as far as the Polish frontier, where a reception committee of police, soldiers and customs officials greeted him. They very firmly told him he could not leave Russia. There was something wrong with his passport, they said. Somebody had failed to cross a “t” or dot an “i.” Rosie bowed and smiled and back-tracked. He ducked and dodged and finally, by a round-about route, got across the line. ROSIE NOW IS home in Cincinnati with his treasure.

The forbidden sketches and stories, as well as those
permitted by the Russian government, will be printed in The Cincinnati Post exclusively.

Among the thousands of places he visited was the Crystal Altar, before which stood the sinister Monk Rasputin when he was shot to death by a Russian nobleman. He visited and sketched the beautiful shrines and churches of Leningrad and Moscow and the pictures castles and Bysantine churches along the Crimean coast. In Kiev, of tragic history, he was at the center of Russia’s great industrial development. But Rosie did not stick to the beaten path of tourists. He followed hidden trails and thus found scenery never before illustrated. His illustrations and luminous, human interest stories accompanying them will form the first complete picture trip of Russia ever published in any newspaper anywhere. Seeing these sketches and reading these stories will give you many enjoyable moments and open your eyes to the real Russia of today. Watch for them in The Post exclusively beginning Friday.

-Cincinnati Post - September 4, 1929

IT IS AN interesting and strange picture that our fellow-citizen and co-worker, Manuel Rosenberg, brings back from Russia. Twice he was arrested and taken to jail when seen sketching Russian scenes. Both times he was released with apologies, but the facts remain that he was taken to the police station for no crime whatsoever. There are but 25,000 autos in use in European Russia he says—a territory equal in size to that of our own country. He saw women marching with men, all bearing rifles. He saw a land where theaters—practically everything in fact—is owned by the government. A strange picture to Americans! A vast nation about which so little is known or understood!

-Cincinnati Post - September 11, 1929

-Cincinnati Post - June 24, 1929

-Cincinnati Post - September 5, 1929

(Rosenberg is in the front row, far left)

-Cincinnati Post - June 19, 1922

Travel Sketches & Articles

Partial collection sketched and written by Rosenberg

Manuel Rosenberg, Cincinnati Post, Russia

ROSIE SKETCHES RUSSIA article 1929

‘Rosie’ SKETCHES Russia
At Leningrad, “Rosie” stops to sketch the statue of Nikolai Lenin at the Baltic station.
NOTHING DAUNTS “ROSIE,” as he is affectionately called by his co-workers. When Manuel Rosenberg, Post staff artist, announced on the even of his departure for Europe that he intended this time to visit Russia and sketch the savage Bolshevik in his lair, he was the subject of a lot of good-natured “razzing.” “What those Bolshies will do to you will be plenty,” and “They say only one in 2000 ever escapes from the Siberian convict mines” were just a couple of the cheerful prophecies that fell upon his ear. But Rosie merely smiled—the same sort of smile that greets you in the picture accompanying these remarks. And everybody knew that if anybody could invade Russia and sketch life there as it is and get away with it, whether the Russians liked it or not, that person was Rosie. Rosie never has fallen down on anything he ever has undertaken to do. And this Russian invasion was no exception. He roamed up and down the length of Russia from Leningrad on the Baltic to Odessa on the Black Sea, seeking and finding material for his facile pencil to record in sketch and story—for Rosie is as clever in writing a story as he is in making a picture.
* * *
AND THEN he came home with a great portfolio of sketches and stories under his arm. But wait a minute—coming home was not as easy as it sounds. There are a lot of things in Russia that Russian officialdom doesn’t want sketched. A little thing like that didn’t bother Rosie. He sketched ‘em. The police confiscated the sketches and stories. Neither did that bother Rosie. He had the scenes photographed indelibly in his memory and he merely reproduced them and rewrote the stories as soon as he succeeded in getting across the border. Getting across the border was something else again. Rosie says Russia for a live-wire artist is like a mousetrap for a hungry mouse. It’s easy to get in, but not so easy to get out with the bait. Rosie decided to come home by way of Poland. He started and got as far as the Polish frontier, where a reception committee of police, soldiers and customs officials greeted him. They very firmly told him he could not leave Russia. There was something wrong with his passport, they said. Somebody had failed to cross a “t” or dot an “i.” Rosie bowed and smiled and back-tracked. He ducked and dodged and finally, by a round-about route, got across the line. ROSIE NOW IS home in Cincinnati with his treasure. The forbidden sketches and stories, as well as those permitted by the Russian government, will be printed in The Cincinnati Post exclusively. Among the thousands of places he visited was the Crystal Altar, before which stood the sinister Monk Rasputin when he was shot to death by a Russian nobleman. He visited and sketched the beautiful shrines and churches of Leningrad and Moscow and the pictures castles and Bysantine churches along the Crimean coast. In Kiev, of tragic history, he was at the center of Russia’s great industrial development. But Rosie did not stick to the beaten path of tourists. He followed hidden trails and thus found scenery never before illustrated. His illustrations and luminous, human interest stories accompanying them will form the first complete picture trip of Russia ever published in any newspaper anywhere. Seeing these sketches and reading these stories will give you many enjoyable moments and open your eyes to the real Russia of today. Watch for them in The Post exclusively beginning Friday.

-Cincinnati Post - September 4, 1929

PETERHOF PALACE article 1929

MANY CHILDREN KNOW well the story of Peter the Great, and his love for the sea and ships. They recall how, toward the end of the 17th century, he became ruler of Russia at only 17. They know of his travels thru Europe: and especially dear to them is the tale of his adventures in Holland in workman’s guise. In Holland is was that he labored in the dockyards acquiring much of the technical knowledge which enabled him later to give Russia her first navy. Today, Peterhof Palace stands as one of many great monuments to Peter, who eliminated the marshlands of the Neva River to lay the foundations for the great city, St. Petersburg, known later as Petrograd and now Leningrad. Gold leaf is used lavishly throughout the palace, and the domes of the churches attached to the palace are said to be of pure gold.
* * *
MIDWAY BETWEEN Kronstadt and Leningrad the palace is situated, and the sight of the beautiful edifice electrifies the most experienced travelers. The Italian architect, Raistreli, is credited with designing Peterhof Palace, as well as that erected by Catherine the Great; and these historic show places surpass in point of beauty and structure most of the palaces to be seen anywhere on the continent. On certain days, fountains play in the garden, reminding one of the environs of the palace at Versailles. The fountains in the garden of Peterhof Palace are natural, their streams flowing off into the sea. The Soviet government has turned all of the Leningrad palaces into museums. Within the great buildings all is cleanliness and order. Here and there statistical notices catch the visitor’s eye. One learns the tax on the populace in 1725 was 8,000,000 rubles for the army and about 7,000,000 for the upkeep of the palaces and the royal dinner tables. Even when Peterhof Palace was used only part time, the cost of upkeep was $250,000 annually.
* * *
MOST ABSORBING of the rooms in the palace is the Throne Chamber, kept warm in winter by a Dutch porcelain stove. Many of the rooms never are heated, the royal tenants having used the main palace as their reception house and a small palace as living quarters. In the midst of all this regal splendor, evidently only one person possessed a bathroom. That was Grand Duchess Olga, whose bath tub was concealed under a sofa. Bedroom furniture and dining tables were not in evidence either for your Russian ruler used a different room each night as a bedroom and was equally inconsistent in regard to his dining room. The servants simply brought the dining table or bed into the room their master specified. All in all, one concludes a tenant of a modern Cincinnati apartment has much more comfort and many more conveniences than the rulers of Russia possessed in their costly, regal palace.

-Cincinnati Post - September 10, 1929

Manuel Rosenberg, Cincinnati Post, Russia, Kiev

UKRAINE'S ANCEINT CAPITAL article 1929

BEGINNING OUR DEPARTURE from Russia, we entered at Sebastopol for a rough ride to Kiev, the ancient capital of the Ukraine. Kiev was founded in the eighth century by three brothers, the first of whom bore the name of Kiev. Here in 988 Vladimir, the saint, gave the Greek Orthodox faith to Russia. A huge statue of Vladimir, cross in hand, stands on the hillside of Kiev, overlooking the Dnieper River valley. In contrast is the bust of Carl Marx, the German political economist, which stands on an odd arrangement of large black blocks, haphazardly set one on top of another. For a city of 500,000 Kiev is not inviting. Almost every house needs paint and repairs. Kiev has been the object of countless wars and battles. Several times it has been burned. Between 1916 and 1920, more than 500 pogroms took place within its borders. Tartars, Cossacks, Lithuanians, Russian, Poles and others at one time or another have taken possession of the city. Like Cincinnati, Kiev is built on a river near which are the factories and tenements. The better element lies on the hilltops. As the cradle of Greek Orthodoxy, Kiev presents several fine examples of religious architecture. The most colorful is the Lavra, or monastery, in which are the catacombs. The many oddly-shaped domes are a golden yellow and on the sides of the white limestone walls are painted icons in brilliant colors. A priest takes us thru the catacombs, sandle in hand. We pass corpse after corpse with just a withered hand showing over the red drapery cover. Hermits lived in this labyrinth. They were sealed in their cells and thru small apertures were served food. When they died the openings were sealed with lead.

-Cincinnati Post - October 2, 1929

THE STORY OF RASPUTIN article 1929

MANY VERSIONS of the story of the life of Monk Grigory Rasputin have been offered since that dynamic figure met his death; and all pf them come, sooner or later, to the elaborate shrine in the palace of Prince Yusupoff in Leningrad. In quest of a cure for the tubercular bone malady which tormented her son, Alexis, heir to the throne, the czarina, a very religious woman, turned to Rasputin, an orthodox Greek monk, after medical aid had failed. Rasputin, endowed with some hypnotic ability, won the czarina’s confidence in his ability and subsequently made good at court. The presence there of this mephistophelian giant, who attracted the women so readily, incited the wrath and won the hatred of the enlightened nobility who realized members of the royal family were being duped by Rasputin. Many times his death was plotted; but he seemed to be able to charm death away also. Finally, Prince Yusupoff invited the monk to his palace one winter night. First, he served Rasputin two drinks containing deadly poison but without success. Then Yusupoff thought quickly. In his basement, he had fitted up an elaborate shrine below his study. To the crystal altar in that room he invited Rasputin. Down the narrow staircase came the monk. He took his stand before the altar. Suddenly the prince drew his gun and fired. Rasputin fled up the stairs and into the garden. The prince followed, firing at him again. Rasputin fell to the snow-covered ground. Yusupoff and his confederates picked up the monk’s body and dropped it thru the ice into the canal which flows by the Yusupoff Palace into the broad Neva River. The prince and his comrades fled to France. Two days later, Rasputin’s body was found by the police, and there was great rejoicing thruout Russia.
* * *
TODAY, YUSUPOFF PALACE is the headquarters of the School-teachers’ Trade Union. Altho nobody there knew enough German or English to understand us, the magic word of “Rasputin” was the open sesame to the shrine room. The leader of the union sent his secretary for the janitor who arrived soon with a small candle and beckoned us to follow. Down the narrow, winding stairway we trooped. The shrine room, now a storage place for skis, boasts just one window. With the light entering thru that aperture playing upon him, the janitor re-enacted the shooting scene for us while an English speaking girl, who had joined the expedition, translated his speeches. In this poorly lighted room, we well could visualize the end of the great imposter. And so long did we linger there before that historic crystal altar that we had not time enough to explore the rest of the palace.

-Cincinnati Post - September 13, 1929

RETREAT OF THE ROMANOFFS article 1929

ALTHO NICOLAS II, last of the Romanoff rulers, was accused of many crimes, the visitors to his palace at Tsarskoye Syelo (Czar’s Village) may gain the impression the czar was a home and family-loving country gentleman. The Tsarskoye Syelo home was the retreat preferred by the royal family because the climate in that vicinity was most advantageous to the health of the heir to the throne, Alexis, victim of a tubercular bone malady. In fact,the community, celebrated for the health building program it offers children, has been renamed Dyetskoye Syelo (Children’s Village). And there, in the palace, undisturbed since July 31, 1917, the day the Romanoffs were exiled, one sees still the toys of Alexis and his four sisters, including Alexis’ little automobiles, which a sailor guardian pushed about for him. Here too are books of Nicolas and his queen. In the queen’s room are many photographs of members of the royal family and their friends. A suggestion of religious fanaticism is seen in the abundance of ikons on the wall—large and small trinkets—silver and gold—religious images of all shapes. One chamber in the palace was used by the czar for his conferences with his army leaders. To this room he came when he wished to discuss war plans not intended for his wife’s ears. Later, it was learned the czarina was in constant communication with the German army staff.
* * *
THE PALACE BUILT by Catherine II as a gift for her grandson, Alexander I, is entirely different from the other Russian structures. It was in this smaller edifice that the czar and his family were held prisoners after the overthrow of the government. Suspecting that he was spirited away, some of the revolutionists, appointed to investigate, came upon him in the hallway. When they refused to shake hands with him, he walked away in anger. To satisfy his own followers, Kerensky ordered the czar and his family exiled to Siberia. On July 31, 1917, the royal family left its happy retreat to follow the bleak trail many political prisoners had taken following czarist action. At Tombolsk, Siberia, so the story goes, they halted. And there a Bolshevik sailor took their lives. Where the unfortunate exiles are buried is not known. The estates of the other Romanoffs have been confiscated by the new rulers, and today the palaces are used as museums or government buildings in the interests of the workers who were the underdogs of the czarist regimes. Royal rule, the visitor to Russia is informed, is doomed forever in the land of the Soviet.

-Cincinnati Post - September 16, 1929

Manuel Rosenberg, Cincinnati Post, Russia, Kremlin

THE KREMLIN, RUSSIA article 1929

THE KREMLIN—sinister fortress of Middle Age Russia, whose walls enclose, among other things, the great palace of the czars and several religious buildings, now is the seat of the Soviet government in Moscow. Flanking a hill 130 feet above the River Moskva, the Kremlin’s 2430 yards of battlemented walls surround an area of about 100 acres. Conquered, pillaged, burnt in parts, many times since the 13th century, and rebuilt each time, the Kremlin’s buildings and towers present a skyline varied and unusual with its heterogeneous types of architecture.
* * *
The bolshevik government, now quartered in the ancient palace of the czars, is building a gigantic office building in the city so the Kremlin may be converted into a public museum. Outside the Kremlin walls which face Red Square, are the graves of revolutionary soldiers slain in battle and of friends of the Bolshevik uprising. Here are the graves of W. W. Heywood and John Reed, with fine monuments and adorned with red geraniums. Here also is the resting place of Nikola Lenin, the Washington of Red Russia. A great marble mausoleum is being built to house his tomb.
* * *
Along the banks of the Moskva hundreds of the populace get suntans, whether they want them or not. For on and in the Moskva, most of the bathers, both men and women, wear no bathing suits. This interferes in no way with those who prefer to loll about in the afternoon sunshine. No one seems to care, so it must be all right. Most of the men bathers appeared husky and well-built. The women—few would get very far in an American bathing beauty contest.

-Cincinnati Post - September 18, 1929

Manuel Rosenberg, Cincinnati Post, Russia, Nizhni-Novgorod, fair

GREAT FAIR GROUNDS, RUSSIA article 1929

COUNTRY FAIRS in America are one thing, but the great international fair held annually in Nizhni-Novgorod is something else. The city’s strategic position at the confluence of the Volga and Oka Rivers largely had made it the trade center of central Russia. Varied products, manufactured and agricultural, are brought here from all directions. Since 1817, Nizhni-Novgorod has been the site of the great fair, which opens every year on Aug. 1 and continues into September. Originally merchants brought their goods to the fair by boat and caravan from all Russia, Caucasia, Siberia, Persia and even China. Perfection of railroads in Russia has caused the fair to decline in recent years, but the activity still is probably greater than at any other fair. The fairgrounds, across the Volga from the city, are reached by a bridge. The shop places there are reminiscent of the stables at the Latonia race track. The buildings are of plaster and generally two stories high. They are painted yellow and trimmed in white. The large doors are brown. Balconies serving as awnings protect the shops from the sun and the rain. The streets of the fairground are paved with cobblestones. Unfortunately The Post artist’s visit to Nizhni-Novgorod was a few days before the opening of the fair, so virtually all the activity at the grounds was limited to cleaning up the place in preparation for the trading.

-Cincinnati Post - September 20, 1929

RUSSIAN PULLMAN CARS, RUSSIA 1929

WHEN YOU SUMMON enough courage to travel in the Russian version of a Pullman car you never know what fate has in store. Making reservations gives little assurance. The agent never is certain that he can save you a “soft” berth. He takes your rubles and you take your chances. The compartments contain either two or four bunks. Berth assignments are made without regard to the assignee’s sex, station, cleanliness or police record. A man may have to share a compartment with three women, or it may be vice versa. The berths, however are comfortable enough.
* * *
RUSSIAN PULLMANS are plastered thruout with many and devious rules, for the infraction of which an accompanying scale of penalties is posted. If you open a window instead of asking the porter to do it, you are fined one ruble. Other offenses, whose nature precludes detailing here, are subject to fines of from two to five rubles. Sleeping car windows are never opened at night chiefly because the trains stop at stations and at the stations men and boys are ready with poles to extract the travelers’ belongings and the company’s bedding. Trading berths is common and practical Two American honeymooners who had been assigned with two Russian men to a four-berth compartment swapped tickets so the wife could share a two-bunk compartment with another woman. If trading is impossible, nothing can be done about it. Three middle-aged women objected strenuously because there was to be a man among them, but the porter was unable to ease their embarrassment, if that was what was troubling them.
* * *
THE PORTERS have a special graft in serving tea and “chai”—something like zwieback with icing. They never make up a berth if there is a chance of selling some “chai.” If you want your berth made up the best thing to do is promise the porter you’ll order two “chais” after the job is done. It seems all the young people in the villages gather at the railroad stations at night, probably because the station is the only place lighted up. In the morning it is a case of first come, first washed. The few basins are filled with water once and only once. After that the only recourse is mineral water—for sale by the porter—which is not so good for lathering one’s skin.

-Cincinnati Post - September 21, 1929

ALONG THE BLACK SEA, RUSSIA article 1929

EAST OF SEBASTOPOL the road wound up thru mountain walls, pigeon-holed with the houses of Tartars, the cliffdwellers of the Crimea chalk hills. Over track of desert-like soil the road twisted along to the Tartar village of Baidary. Tartars form a big percentage of the South Russian population and are a big factor in Soviet politics. Stalin, the “boss” of Russia, is a Tartar. The Tartars are a mountain race, black-haired and a bit evil and greasy looking. One seldom sees a clean Tartar. The only water supply in Baidary oozes from a fountain in the main part of the village.

In most places in Russia tourists drink “narzan,” Russian mineral water, because it as least looks clean, but in Baidary even the narzan looked questionable. Leaving Baidary the road took a series of hairpin turns and passed thru the Baidary Gate, the portal to the road along the Black Sea. Like a magic box the portal opened up a view of the sea and the mountain walls that was worth the trip to view. A hundred yards or so down the road the Byzantine Church perched like an eagle’s nest at the top of the cliff. How to reach it seems a problem. The road seems to shuttle back and forth and the yawning valet awaited at each turn for the vehicles to drop into its cavern. After a hard climb the road reached the church cliff.

-Cincinnati Post - September 30, 1929

LEAVING RUSSIA article 1929

WE LEFT KIEV one morning for a fast seven-hour run to the Polish border, en route to Warsaw. Numerous Americans had joined our party and we all hoped to crash thru the customs officers at the border. The Russian officials were most courteous. We could not have asked for better treatment. It was getting very dark at 9 p. m. as we crossed the border. Two staves—the Russian striped deep red and black with its shield and coat of arms a crossed sickle and hammer with a star above and the Polish striped white and black with a white eagle as its crest design. Presto, we were in Poland and the air itself seemed to breath of a greater freedom and a broader outlook. We even expected a good meal soon. The train had not yet arrived at Zdobonova, the Polish customs station when the passport office sang out my name. He could speak German and I soon learned there was a slight error in the Polish visa on my passport. He informed me I would have to go back to Kiev, seat of the nearest polish consulate to obtain a proper visa.
* * *
HALF AN HOUR LATER all the passengers had entered the Polish customs office. I, too, picked up my baggage, saw my chance and slipped off the train. I had intended to escape to the main train and get to Warsaw where I likely could obtain aid from the American ambassador and have the visa corrected without having to spend two full days and about $60. I made the mistake of walking into the commandant’s office. He demanded to know why I had dared to get off the train. He stepped out and soon returned with a guard armed with a rifle and two pistols. Soon I discovered another chance to make a break for liberty. The military had brought in a woman suspect, whom the commandant was questioning. My guard also was interested. I picked up my baggage and tiptoed out toward the train. I almost had reached the train when the commandant shouted. “Where are you going,” he demanded? “I was just leaving my grips with my friends,” I said. But from then on he and the guard never left my side. As he marched me off to the waiting Russian train a loud protest came up from the crowd of Americans, but to no avail.
* * *
IN FIVE MINUTES the Russian train departed. The commandant and the soldier placed me in a compartment with them and bid me sleep, but my dejection would not court sleep. At the border they said farewell and shortly the Russian customs head, commandant of the GYTU (Secret Service) for this station came aboard. He was a good fellow, full of sympathy, and roundly cured the Poles. I wired the Polish consul and the next night arrived in Kiev and reached this house with a droshky. The next morning I journeyed back to the border. On the return trip I met a Red army commander, who had been in a number of battles with Deniken, Petlura and other anti-Bolshevik commanders. I saw pictures of Jewish pogroms, in which more than 100,000 Jews had been massacred from 1918 to 1920 in the district in which we were traveling. An American lad had statistics which showed 1295 pogroms had been recorded here within those three years. On arriving at Shepatouk I was well received—the border soldiery custom officers had learned of my misfortune and were quite friendly. I, alone, of all the travelers was permitted in and out of the customs house, during the examinations. On the Polish boarder I found equally friendly treatment. I learned later that the Warsaw correspondent of the Chicago Tribune, M. M. Nimowksy, had been reached by Mr. Wright, of our party. He immediately appealed to the minister of the interior who wired to Zdobonova that morning to let me thru without a passport visa. However, it was too late. I called on Mr. Nimowsky at Warsaw the morning of my arrival. He received me royally and took me to the minister of the interior, the war minister. And a few other officials. The border commandant was “called upon the red carpet.”

-Cincinnati Post - October 12, 1929

WARSAW - POLISH CAPITAL article 1929

ARRIVED IN WARSAW, I went at once to M. M. Nimowsky, correspondent for the Chicago Tribune, to tell him of the trouble I had had at the Polish border. He took me to the minister of the interior and the war minister who extended themselves to make amends, even to calling on the carpet the commandant who had caused my delay at the border. With that off my chest I proceeded to enjoy the charming capital of Poland. Warsaw has the oldest wine house in the world. It was established in 1610. The kings of Hungary and Poland each year received a bottle of the ancient vintage from the proprietor and his descendants. For $50 you can buy a bottle of this drink of kings. Pope Pius XI, when a papal ambassador here, signed his name in the visitors book, and had a glass of the wine. Incidentally, Poland is the favorite daughter of the Roman Catholic Church. The Poles adopted Roman Catholicism in the ninth century. Most of the natives are Catholics and the rest are Jews, who are conspicuously distinguished by their peculiar garments and caps. It is not compulsory for them to wear this outfit, but they do so out of habit derived from the old days of the pale. One sees many soldiers, none of whom wears less than four medals each. A Polish factory works day and night to supply the army with medals. One sees also many beautiful girls, well dressed. There are homely ones, too. Feminine looks, it seems, hit only the extremes in Warsaw. Living is cheap in Warsaw. Food, especially, is inexpensive and good. The “skooda,” or 11-cent piece, goes a long way.
Cincinnati Post - October 14, 1929

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‘Rosie’ SKETCHES Russia

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