Greetings from Afar

Sverdlov’s Ghost

My first paranormal experience in Russia began, literally, the first day I arrived. This story is not about a ghost that I have seen, but rather, one that I very much want to see. I shared a suite with him the first week that I was in Moscow, but he stayed to himself that week, and I never saw him. I’m still trying…

When I first came to Russia, in the fall of 1987, I was with a major international company which had decided to take advantage of the newly “open” Russian Market. I was one of three foreigners to come over in the “first” wave and open an office in Moscow. I arrived in Moscow on 5 November, 1987 with high hopes, a knowledge of the Russian Language taught to me by the U.S. Military, and a lot of misconceptions. The company, in conjunction with the (then) Soviet Government, had arranged for an apartment for me, but, of course, it wasn’t quite ready when I arrived. This is Russia, you know.

Now, most people know that in the “bad” old days, 7 November was a very big holiday in Russia. It was “Revolution Day”, marking the anniversary of the “Great October Revolution” (a calendar change made it a November date). Next to New Years Day, it was the biggest holiday of the year. Of course, since my flat wasn’t ready for me to move into, the company had to put me up in a hotel until it was ready, and since it was Revolution Day, every hotel room in Moscow was full… what to do?

Well, to everyone’s surprise, the company found me a room. It was in the Hotel Metropol, the most exclusive and, needless to say, most expensive hotel in Moscow at that time. I not only had a room, I had a three room, corner suite on the top floor that overlooked Red Square… a perfect vantage point from which to watch the Revolution Day Parade without standing in the freezing slush of one of the foulest autumns in recorded Russian history.

Upon moving in, I noticed immediately that this suite must have cost the company a fortune… at least $500.00 an night, which at that time, was an unbelievable sum. Later, in 1991, when I came back to Russia permanently, in the era of Yeltsinite banditism, it would be nothing, but this was 1987. In any case, the Metropol is the oldest hotel in Moscow, and at that time, it was the only Five Star Hotel in the city. The suite that I moved into was decorated in turn of the century style, with heavy green carpeting, genuine oak paneling, and had elaborate carved ceiling with hanging cut crystal chandeliers in each room. It consisted of three rooms… a master bedroom, a sitting room, and a smaller bedroom that had been converted at some time into a rather ornately decorated (by turn of the century standards) office. The shelves in this office were filled with books in at least six languages, the desk was well stocked, as was a liquor cabinet behind the desk. The furniture, throughout the suite was heavy, leather upholstered and comfortable in an almost decadent way. The bathroom was huge, with a tiled floor, and an elaborate mural inlayed into the tiles that made up the wall. It had one of those fine old porcelain bathtubs that would make Caligula proud… large enough for an entire family. On one wall of the master bedroom was a small plaque which read “On this spot, died Yakov Mikhailovich Sverdlov, People’s Kommissar, President of the Russian Republic and First Deputy to V. I. Lenin. 18 March, 1919”. Now I was enthused. The suite was not only beautiful and comfortable, it had a history.

Being the warm, trusting and loyal company official that I was, only one thought went through my mind as I began to unpack my things. Something had to be wrong. There was no conceivable reason for a suite this nice to be empty two days before a major holiday, and… the company would never shell out the kind of money that this suite represented if it had any choice, at all. Don Martin, the man who was in charge of our “overseas operations” was the Scotsman who gave all other Scotsmen their reputation for “thrift”. I decided to make another, slightly more thorough tour of the suite.

Upon looking around more carefully, I was even more confused. The heat worked, the carpet was dry (no leaks) and everything in the bathroom was in working order. As I was looking around, I heard the key turn in the lock, and saw the door into the hallway open. A maid stepped in. She looked around for a moment, and was seemingly quite shocked to see me in the room, and my things scattered on the bed.

The woman silently went about her work, straightening the linens, placing new towels, and dusting. Every once and a while, she would look over toward me, and stare at me as though I had two heads. Finally, I asked her what was wrong. Her response was to ask me, quite quizzically, if I liked the suite.

I told her that it was beautiful, that I was lucky to get it, and that I couldn’t understand why it had stood empty just before the holiday. I went into detail about how well it was furnished, and how comfortable it was. Then, pointing at the little plaque on the wall, said… “This suite even has history…”

The woman looked over toward me, smiled a sweet, smile, and pointing to the same plaque said… “It also has a ghost…”

Now, I never saw Yakov Mikhailovich while I was there. I stayed in the suite for three days, and honestly, I really looked for him. Sverdlov had been Lenin’s deputy. He was Lenin’s hand-picked successor, and by all reports, one of the most intelligent and best informed men in the original cadre of the Bolshevik Party. Had he not died in the great worldwide Influenza Epidemic, he would have followed Lenin to power, and the Soviet Union would never have been subjected to Stalin, whom Lenin did not care for, and who actually forged his way into power over an ailing Lenin’s signature. I had a couple of questions for Comrade Sverdlov if I saw him… the first one was… “Why in Hell didn’t you wear your overcoat and take a little better care of yourself?”

I have stayed in the Metropol several times since that day, and have visited there on numerous occasions. In all those times, I have not seen him. I’m still looking. On behalf of 32 million dead, we have some serious matters to discuss.

©2011 by Dr. J. Lee Choron, all rights reserved unless granted by the author in writing.