 | The A.L.A. in Siberia |  |
WITH SIBERIAN DELIBERATION
(Extract from a letter written to Mrs. Clemons in China.)
. . . Strengthened by your letter, I got that Shanghai box
of books out of Customs, yesterday afternoon. Thank you
for the letter. I don't believe I can recall all the ramificacations.
Tuesday morning, I took the blue bill of lading and
sallied into Vladivostok. I went to the Hongkong and Shanghai
Bank and loaded up with dollars and roubles first, and
then hunted for the office of the Russian Volunteer Fleet.
After a little search I located that. I got into an office full
of people and waited. Finally I caught an official's eye and
waved the blue document at him. He took it, perused it
with deliberation, and then carried it to another official. The
second perused it with deliberation, and then wrote out a
supplement to the document. The second official handed it
to the first and the first handed it to me and said, "Pay three
roubles, four kopecks at cash." I received the papers and
started in the direction of his gesture for "cash." I went
into a hallway and wandered about a bit and then sighted a
window like a ticket seller's arrangement. The window was
closed, but I knocked on it. A third official woke up inside,
gathered in my money and papers, stamped the supplement,
and handed back the papers. For want of further directions
I returned to the office. Official number one deliberately
perused the stamp and handed the papers to official number
two. The latter perused the stamp with deliberation and
returned the papers to number one. Number one handed
them back to me and said, "Go Customs House."
I went back to the maddening world and hunted for the
Customs House, Once I got lost in a maze of unclean back
yards, but finally I located the building on a certain block.
Then I made a systematic search. The first building was a
bank. Into the second building a man with a portfolio under
his arm was going. So I put my blue document and supplement
under my arm and followed. It was a good scent. I
got into a crowded office and found an official, number four.
He knew some English and was obviously proud of the knowledge.
Only his method was to think each sentence through
before uttering it, which gave an air of deliberation to the
conversation. After a friendly interchange of remarks, he
seemed to reach the facts in my case, and then delivered
himself thus: "You will please go upstairs and see the Superintendent."
I went obediently upstairs. A page took my
back without the papers and indicated that I was to follow
him. I was ushered into the presence of the Superintendent,
this fifth official being clothed like the Lord Mayor of London.
We spoke briefly in different languages, and then an
interpreter was summoned. I was asked what this was about.
I said it was about a box of books. For whom was this box
of books? For the American soldiers. Who was this
Clemons, American Library Association? I indicated myself.
But if the box of books was for the American soldiers,
there must be some official document from the American
army to indicate that. Then they could consider whether
the books should be admitted free of duty. But nothing could
be done without that document. And I might come again
tomorrow. I indicated a shade of impatience, I fear, but this
only brought a repetition of the same statement. So I pocketed
my blue documents and supplements and departed from
the Lord Mayor official and his interpreter.
At headquarters, the Adjutant told me that he would be
glad to give me a letter identifying me, but that the other
letter ought to come from the Quartermaster at the Base.
So I came back, back from Vladivostok.
That afternoon I approached the Quartermaster with my
tale, and he cheered me with a show of hearty sympathy
and promised the letter.
The letter came yesterday. (So did yours.) At half past
one I started for the Custom House. The same page took
the same blue document plus the official letter to the same
Lord Mayor Superintendent. Then in the same way he
waved me down the long corridor. This time instead of the
interpreter there was a sixth official summoned. He read the
letter from the Quartermaster, and the Superintendent pondered.
Then he apparently washed his hands of the whole
blue matter and departed. The sixth official inquired if the
books were for the American troops. I affirmed that they
were. Then he asked if I wrote Russian. I uttered a regretful
negative. Thereupon the sixth official condescended
to write out a statement about the destination of the books
on the back of the blue document and asked me to sign it.
I inquired if I should write the statement in English also.
This seemed to grieve him, and so I assumed that the signature
would be safe. Then I was asked to wait a few minutes.
I did. Twenty. At the end official number six said I
would please follow him. He was correct. We went downstairs
over into a corner where an important-looking number seven
sat, and an earnest conversation ensued. I remained discreetly
in the background. Meantime official number four,
he of the deliberate speech, observed me and came for a
friendly greeting. He said he hoped I was making progress.
I told him I shared his hope. "Do you not find," he continued,
"that the process in the Russian customs is different
from that in the American?" Again I agreed with him.
But by this time official number six had persuaded official
number seven to add a supplement to the document, and so
I left official number four of the agreeably deliberate enunciation
and returned with the unusually efficient number six to
the room down the long corridor of the second story. When
we arrived there, he informed me that now I should go
to the Customs House.
I confess that I was a bit startled, and had to ask for a
repetition of the information. But I had heard correctly.
This time I took the precaution of asking the name of the
building. He carefully informed me that it was "Korabelnaia
Kontora." I practiced this under his instructions; and
telling official number six, in true Chinese style, that I feared
I had caused him much trouble, I departed.
The fresh air was invigorating, and after getting my lungs
full, I fell into step to the tune of "Korabelnaia Kontora." It
was almost as difficult for this purpose as the Wedding
March. Whenever I met a person of intelligent mien I
stopped him and remarked, "Korabelnaia Kontora." For the
first three attempts there was no result. But as I got near
the wharves, I found two Russians who responded by violent
pointing to the right. On I went, and was again urged forward,
and again a third time. Then I discovered a building
with a sign over the door. Once I won half a small prize
for an examination in Greek. But yesterday I felt as if I had
got the equivalent of the other half also, when my Greek
letters enabled me to spell out "Korabelnaia Kontora" itself.
I entered proudly and immediately got lost. But a youth
with a dog found me and steered me and my blue documents
and supplements into a crowded office. After a time an
eighth official took the documents and perused them with deliberation
and then led me to another office. It seemed that
the necessary official here was missing, and I was given a
chair with a considerable show of politeness. Official number
eight had an imposing array of stars on his shoulders
but rather feeble trousers. He seemed to be a general
I sat down. For twenty-five minutes. Then the missing
official number nine entered briskly, bowed, and examined
my documents with deliberation. Whereupon he uttered an
exclamation and led me and my documents back into the
former office. It appears that the proper official for my case
had really been there. But meantime he had departed.
So I waited. Thirty minutes. At the expiration of the
half hour, official number ten wandered in, and everybody
looked up and said, "Here he is," in Russian. Number ten
perused my blue document and its supplements with unusual
deliberation and then arose and beckoned me to follow. We
went forth into the fresh air down along the docks for a
walk of some little distance, tried a warehouse or two unsuccessfully
and then in a third apparently discovered something.
There was much conversation in Russky, and suddenly
a little box bearing my name appeared. My heart
leaped up when I beheld that little box. But workmen had
to be summoned and the box opened and one of the books
gravely felt and peeped into. Then the box was closed. But
number ten official had forgotten to bring his order book,
and so I was led reluctantly out away from my box and along
that walk of some little distance to "Korabelnaia Kontora."
The order was there filled out with elaborate care, and was
then given to me in exchange for my blue companion and its
supplements. So I went forth for the third journey over
that walk of some little distance back to the warehouse and
my box of books.
But I grew more cheerful as I found myself again in reach
of the little box, and after a moderately short wait was
able to hand over the order so elaborately prepared. But the
warehouse boss, when he arrived, looked at the box and
then at the order and then at me, and then struck his forehead
with his open palm in dismay. Something was wrong.
A little crowd collected. The warehouse boss found a document
of an appearance new to me and asked if I did not have
one like that. At least so I interpreted his inquiry. I responded
in English that I had never seen anything like that
document, but that I was perfectly willing that he should
use that for me. Again he struck his head. Then he called
a minion, who was wearing Joseph's coat of many colors,
and sent him hurrying off for something. After a moderately
long wait the coat of many colors returned and the
inmate uttered a negative. Then there was another little
crowd, and a sub-boss appeared. He was Chinese and spoke
me away from my little box of books for another walk—briefer this time—and we interviewed official number eleven.
Official number eleven said that I should have to pay forty-five
kopecks. I paid them. Then he handed me a document
of this new style, like the one exhibited; and the
Chinese Good Samaritan and I gaily wended our way back
to the little box of books.
At last it was surrendered to me, and the Good Samaritan
helped me to find a Chinese coolie with one of the picturesque
chair-shaped carriers on his back and we loaded the
little box of books on to the contrivance. But just at this
moment of escape, the Chinese turned to me suddenly and
asked, "Have you got a pass to go out of the gate?"
Well, no, I hadn't any pass. So we lowered the box of
books and left it there in the warehouse, and went forth to
find official number one dozenth. It wasn't really a
very long operation, and I don't remember much about it.
I was moving on and on as in a dream anyway. Yes, we
got the pass, and went back to the little box of books, and
loaded the box on the coolie's back, and I said an almost
tearful goodbye to the Chinese Good Samaritan, and the
coolie and the box and I hurried through the gate—and night
was falling.
How I paid the coolie and got a droshky and lumbered in
that broken-down vehicle back towards the Base and how
the driver struck three times for higher fare and how I finally
paid him ten roubles and how we reached the warehouse and
how two enlisted friends of mine carried the box up to the
library without letting me help are other stories.
The Quartermaster called on me today to inquire about
results—and he seemed to think that I was lucky! I was.
I have got the box. Nothing was broken in it except a pint
bottle of ink.
| The A.L.A. in Siberia | |