COMRADE ARTEM. PART III.

…Then, in March 1917, on the eve of his thirty-fourth birthday, and six years after his arrival in Australia, he learns about the abdication of Czar Nicholas II, and the turmoil in Russia. He returns to his house, goes up to his room, packs a little bag, and walks out on his wife and kids, without saying a word, never to return... Comrade Artem is back in business.

The story of Artem’s installment as the virtual dictator of Eastern Ukraine and of his intense bickering with Lenin about the status of his Republic will be the exciting subject of my next entry, but the remainder of this one is now devoted to the last year of Artem’s life.

Invited by Lenin to take permanent residence in Moscow with the promise of becoming Lenin’s successor, Artem accepted the challenge, but refused to take quarters in the Kremlin. He, his wife, and his entourage are given at their disposal the Hôtel National, a stately and spacious building near the Kremlin. Artem and Lisa take the largest suite upstairs, boasting its famous grand balcony. Their army fills the remaining space. So far so good, and Lenin is keeping his promise. For now, Artem would become Secretary of the Moscow Committee of the Russian Communist Party. An auspicious first step for the future Leader of the Party and of the State.

He was also given a variety of other posts. Because of Lenin’s fascination with Tom’s international exploits in the faraway Australia, and his fluency in several languages, including English, he was given a seat on the Third International, also known as the Comintern. His continuing commitment to the Industrial South was honored by the title of Chairman of the Union of Mine Workers of all the Republics of the Former Russian Empire.

At the Plenum of the Central Committee, following the Tenth Congress of the Russian Communist Party, Lenin personally proposed Artem’s candidacy for the post of Executive Secretary of the RKPb. There were no dissenters. Then on July 24, 1921, he left home for an important function with foreign dignitaries and did not return. He was killed.

His death was officially explained as a tragic accident. Artem had been giving a foreign delegation a taste of one of the most recent Russian experiments in science and technology, the so-called Aerowagon, which was a railcar, equipped with an aircraft engine and a propeller, capable of running at the speed of 140 km per hour. The demonstration was supposed to be routine, but it ended in tragedy.

Everybody in Moscow was immediately talking of sabotage. People were expecting a rigorous investigation by the government, to find and to punish the guilty. In those days, when the enemies of the Revolution were lurking behind every corner, it would have been an entirely natural reaction to condemn somebody even on the flimsiest of evidence. Surprisingly to all, with hardly any exception, the Soviet Government in this case rushed to rule out foul play, and to declare this tragedy nothing worse than a tragic accident. No serious investigation was conducted, even though besides Artem, important foreigners had been among the dead.

Artem was given a state funeral and laid to rest in the Pantheon of major Soviet statesmen in Red Square by the Kremlin Wall. Lenin’s Mausoleum was later built just a few steps from his grave.

One year later, Stalin took over Artem’s unconsummated job, vaingloriously changing the title to “General Secretary.” He also promptly adopted Artem’s newborn son, my future father Artem, relieving the widow, my grandmother Baba Lisa, of her maternal duties. The adoption was formally endorsed by a decision of the Politburo, signed by Lenin and all other members, ironically including Artem’s enemy Trotsky.

Thus ended an extraordinary life, which could have ended very differently, but here again, lady history had put in her last word, as always, in favor of historical necessity.