 Ports of Call. Beyond blue horizons, far at the world's end, strange fascinating lands back in us bid us revel in their exotic splendors. Come with us as we head for Ports of Call. Sprawling eastward across the face of the earth, from Europe into farthest Asia, lies one-sixth of the world's land mass. A violent country, a fascinating country, a sociological laboratory, the like of which the world has never before seen. This is Russia, our Ports of Call. An 18-hour rail journey takes us from the Russo-Polish frontier to Moscow, the capital of the Union of Soviet Socialistic Republics, as Russia is officially known today. Here, amid the bustling activity of the most socially-minded people on earth, amidst modern apartments and modern ideas, we find the physical reminders of the old Russia, of Holy Russia, the land which lay sleeping in superstition until the violent hand of revolution shook her awake. Here in the Kremlin, the city within the city are the domes and spires of the ancient churches and palaces, which today house the government. Here is the gorgeous Cathedral of St. Basil, bringing up memories of the first Tsar, the terrible Ivan, who the story goes blinded the eyes of its architect that he might never duplicate its beautiful spires. Ivan, the terrible who massacred his subjects by the 100,000, begat two sons, one an imbecile, the other an historical enigma. Ivan died. Boris Kudinov, an aristocrat of the court, seized the throne from Feodor the imbecile, sent Ivan's wife, the Tsarina, to a convent and murdered Dmitri, her son. For more than ten years, Boris Kudinov reigned as Tsar. And then, one night in the summer of 1605, as he sits alone in his palace in Moscow, Basmanov, his faithful friend, brings him news that shakes his insecure throne. Now, my dear friend Basmanov, what are these tidings that bring you here with a face flushed red as bushed? Their breath coming in gases. Terrible tidings, Majesty. Well, speak, what is it? The man has appeared in Poland who claims to be Dmitri, the son of Ivan. Dmitri Ivanovich died at Uglis ten years ago. And I remember that he fell upon his knife while at play. My messenger reports that the imposter is identical, even to the two warts which disfigured the young Sarevich's face. Dmitri Ivanovich lies buried in the Church of St. Michael. I believe, Your Majesty, but will the people believe it? Even now the Polish nobles are planning to give this imposter an army to gain back his throne. Say nothing of this Basmanov. Nothing. No one will believe the fantastic story of this crack-brained imposter for long. But the noblemen of Poland did believe the story of the man who claimed to be Dmitri the rightful Tsar. The King of Poland backs him in exchange for his promise of the gold of the Kremlin and the conversion of Russia to Roman Catholicism. Within a few months, Dmitri is leading an army toward Moscow. Boris Gudanov in terror summons the Tsarina from her condom, tells her what has occurred. She listens intently, a smile of satisfaction on her face. And this imposter explains himself by claiming that the son of a serf was substituted for him by his physician and that he had been taken to a monastery where he was educated. It is fantastic. But perhaps true, probably true. You too believe it? But you saw the boy's body. I did. And I know who killed him. Yes. I know that you suspected that I sent Prince Shuska to the workshop. And that you aroused the people against him. But that's beside the point now. Dmitri is dead. He has been dead for ten years. You recognize the boy's body as your son's then? I want you to testify now that this Dmitri who marches on Moscow is an imposter. What good would that do? The people still remember Ivan. They will flock to the banner of his son. But if you, his mother, tell them that this imposter is not his son, the imposter is not Ivan's son. They will believe you. You think they will? You are his mother. Of course they will believe you. But perhaps I was mistaken. Perhaps my Dmitri lives. Perhaps this man is my son. What do you mean? I mean that if this man were the devil himself, I should acknowledge him as my son if I could repay you for the misery you have caused me. So the people will believe me. Then Boris, good enough, your days on the stolen throne of Russia are numbered. The bitter vengeance of the Tsarina did its work. Her public acknowledgment of the mysterious Dmitri as her son paved his way to Moscow. At the head of an army of ferocious Poles before whom the odd Muscovites melted in superstitious fear, Dmitri enters the city. The palace is ready for Your Majesty. I have two scores to settle first. Bring to me those two men who stood in my way almost since my birth. Your Majesty, Boris Goodenoff drank poison even as you were riding through the gates of the city. Cheated me again, did he? And it would have been such a pleasure to have tortured him. And where is Shushki, the traitor whom Goodenoff sent to murder me? Prince Shushki has been captured. They're bringing him to you now. Your Majesty, Dmitri Ivanovich, I was a friend of your father's. Yes, and a friend of Goodenoff. You would have murdered me. No, no, I swear it by the sated towers of Yonder Cathedral. It was not I that... You lying, sprawling, weedling wretch. Get in, stay. No, no, no. Give it to me. I shall be to myself. No, no, Your Majesty. Your Majesty, you would call me Majesty now. No, no, no. You who would have murdered me! Your Majesty! You will learn nothing into a son! Your Majesty. Your sword is sharp. Yes, Your Majesty. Cut off his head. No, no, for the love of God. No, Dmitri Ivanovich. I have put an old ban. I loved your father's. I loved you. No, no, no, no. See, I crawled to your feet. I kissed the hem of your gown. Return your sword, Dmitri Ivanovich. So, so you would kiss the hem of the gown of a man you once thought to murder. Very well, Your Majesty. I will spare you. Your Majesty, may God bless you and spy upon your reign. Yes, I will spare you. But you may spend the rest of your life in Siberia. Siberia? Oh, but I am an old man, Sire. I should never live to read Siberia. I should die of cold all the way. No, no, no, no. Better that you kill me now. Shedinsky. Yes, sir. Prince Shustig leaves for Siberia at once. Yes, Your Majesty. I will have the cart, though. No, no, no, Your Majesty. Blessed Father of Holy Rush, do not send me to Siberia. Kill me now. Let the sword grieve my head for my shoulders now. Let me die in the glorious radiance of your person, not all the cold steps of the Lord. Ah, you babble like an old woman. The cart is here, sir. Good. Place Prince Shustig in it and see that it leaves immediately. Yes, Madam. Sire, consider what you are doing. Consider how faithful I was to your father. Oh, I have served Holy Russia. Kill me now. Kill me now, but do not send me into exile. Oh, Siberia. I have spoken. I will not send you to Siberia. Not to Siberia? No. Then you will behead me here. No. Not behead me? Not exile me? Then Your Majesty is thinking of the torture your father devised. The cauldrons of hot oil. Oh, no, sir. No, not that. Send me to Siberia. I beg you behead me, but not the hot oil. Silence! No babbling worries me. I will not behead you. I will not exile you. I have decided to pardon you. Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you. Yes, and make you my valet. Prince Husky, the valet to the tsar. Why not? What say you, my friends? Is it not fitting that the tsar of all the Russia should have a prince for his valet? Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! too with the princes for a bride forgets many things in the intoxication of his success forgets for instance the sensibilities of the Russians and more important the sensibilities of an old man Prince Shusky but Prince Shusky has not forgotten in the dead of night he meets with a group of boyars in the house of one of the noblemen the streets full of pagan Poles is to meet you this rubbish Polish customs his Polish wife who bears her head in public and wears her gowns cup of the waist Roman Catholic pools filling our holy cathedrals laughing at our customs jeering at our sacred icons already Dmitry has sent a hundred carts of gold from the Kremlin to the Polish King a hundred carts and that is not all I have heard he means to issue a UK's ordering all Russia to become converted to the pagan faith of Rome this is too much of Dimitri on a throne holy Russia is doing he must be removed on the night of May 17th 1606 Dimitri and his bride Marina retire early lying in the wide bed of the emperor they drowsily talk their faces faintly illuminated by the moonlight slowly drawing its silver train across the floor of the apartment I love you so much it should not be difficult to love the emperor of all the rushes I would not care if you were a Galician I love you I loved you since the day I first saw you in my father's palace and I love you Marina in your fashion I suppose I understand so little about life this much I do know men and women are different before me you knew many after me there would be many the first day you entered Moscow that is false senior has entered the convent it's all right Dmitry I am not accusing I'm trying to face reality you see I am different you are all I have ever had all I ever will have this moment these last few days they cannot last I know it I feel it is only a woman can feel but I shall always remember that brief time when my Dimitri loved only me you talk nonsense Marina always there will be just you and I together ruling this great land loving as we do tonight no it cannot be I know it probably some of my Polish soldiers will have vodka and no listen it's coming closer this thing they're coming up the stairs I don't know I am going through that window I must get to my soldiers I must try to come back to you if I cannot go to your father goodbye my beloved you must not escape I have a broken leg thus died saw Dimitri naked at the hands of his outraged subjects whether he was the true son of Ivan the terrible remains one of the enigmas of history on the shores of the Baltic Sea where the waters of the River Niva roll muddy and cold into the gray Gulf of Finland is Leningrad the Venice of the North called first St. Petersburg and then during the war changed to Petrograd now since the Revolution renamed for non-religious Russia's only saint Nikolai Lenin father of the USSR Leningrad is perhaps the most beautiful city in Russia with luxurious palaces now converted into workers living quarters museums bordering the many canals and beautiful churches facing the broad squares with the widest streets in Europe radiating across what just a little more than 200 years ago was a marsh on the Niva Delta in 1703 Peter the Great having defeated the Swedes stands on the island with a group of officers here on this island I want a fortress built a strong fortress that may be sure the Swedes will never again set foot on holy water yes your Majesty in the center see that the cathedral is built around the island strong stone walls but your Majesty there is no stone within a hundred bursts of hair help the stone board if you have to bring it from Moscow no mention of yes your Majesty here on these islands I will build a city city that's why I thought us will keep out any invaders I want a window from which to look out upon Europe your Majesty a city on this barren marsh would it's incredible I want a city that Russia can be proud of not just overgrown villages like Moscow and Novgorod but a city like London or Paris a city that Europe will come to see you will start work at once yes your Majesty working under conditions so primitive that they carried soil in their hands the soldiers spurred by Peter's unflagging energy built the fortress of Peter and Paul and then Chukot the pastry cook whom Peter made a trusted counselor began the construction of St. Petersburg but there were constant difficulties we get no workmen to come here they dive the fever and the swamp they suffer in the cold I have them here as many as you need I have them here from the provinces 40,000 a year if you need them cities laid out palaces built fortresses completed but no it'll come here to live order the nobility to move here from Moscow I want 1000 families to build houses here order them to bring the stone for the houses with them I want 2000 artists and to settle here see that it is done thousands of people have died building the city they died disease of the cold of the flood no place for a city abandoned and on the paradise 10 for more workmen drive them from the farthest corner of the Empire what does the cost matter we are building the most beautiful city on earth St. Petersburg the cost was 100,000 lives but within a few years Peter the great had accomplished a feat of construction that make a prayer to the great wall of China and the great pyramid of Egypt for hundreds of years the story of Russia was the story of the court the Chronicle of the Tsar's the people the millions who lived in superstitious stupor knew nothing but toil poverty and the solace of vodka and the holy church they were surfs owned in perpetuity by the nobility this feudal society lasted 400 years longer in Russia than in the rest of Europe but at last in 1861 Sir Alexander freed the surfs this freedom meant little to the peasant in the cities it was different industry was gradually coming to Russia great factories were rising in st. Petersburg in Moscow workers freed from serfdom became more and more conscious of their class then on a Sunday more than 30 years ago occurred an incident which was to affect profoundly the most backward peasant in the farthest corner of the Empire a few days before the fateful Sunday saw Nicholas the second is going over state papers with an official of the court is a communication I fear you should know about what is it it is in connection with the workers strike at the Poteelov ironwork oh that matter most annoying well what does this say who is it from it is from gay part in the priest he asks that you meet a deputation of workers here at the palace on Sunday I have nothing to say to them what is this priest a nihilist no your majesty the secret police report that he is a social worker and is the head of the Association of Russian Factory and middle workers these workers I don't understand but here I have all the worry of the war with Japan and they have to go on a strike it's very upsetting what will you do about this petition will you meet them I was planning to go to Sarkozy say low on Sunday I need a rest your grandfather met a similar deputation of workers in 1878 yes and accordingly set a bad precedent should I give orders for the demonstration to stop oh I don't know I I'm tired you do whatever you please about it nothing was done about it and accordingly on Sunday January 22nd 1905 100,000 workers led by the priest keep on began their march on the empty winter palace for the vacillating Tsar had gone to the summer palace and left no instructions the procession is orderly the workers are unarmed they carry no revolutionary flags but instead religious banners and portraits of the Tsar and the royal family chanting hymns they parade to the city and approach the winter palace before which a strengthened guard of Cossack's fan the officer of the guard and his adjutant bewildered consider the situation they're coming to the square now sir what are your orders haven't been given any thousands of them a garrison here is not very large my permanent instructions are to permit no one to enter the palace grounds without proper credentials then so require a woman they attempt to enter the palace it may be necessary on toward the palace across the open square marched the chanting workers peaceably carrying their icons of the Tsar suddenly as they approach the palace gate the Cossacks begin firing amidst indescribable confusion the ranks of the workers split in terror as they flee to cover in a moment the square is deserted save for 500 men women and children who lied dead upon the newly fallen snow and 3000 more arriving in agony of their wounds this bloody Sunday in 1905 more than any other single thing crystallized the revolutionary forces in Russia from this day indeed the Russian Revolution may be said to have begun the outraged and disillusioned people discussed it with the excesses of the czaristic regime grew more and more class conscious so demoralized the nation finally become that it was impossible for Russia to keep an army in the field during the world war when by the spring of 1917 more than two million soldiers had deserted so Nicholas abdicated the revolution was now in progress Kerensky the menschewick held sway for a few brief months and then fell before the Bolshevik forces of Lenin and by 1918 the Red Army was fighting a battle for existence against a half dozen white armies of royalist Russians reinforced by allied troops in July one of these armies has almost surrounded the town of a Katerinburg in the Euro mountains the revolutionary government finally is forced to take its most decisive step a telegram is dispatched from Moscow to a Katerinburg which sends a young red soldier to a modest little house near the center of the city the house where for several months the czar and his family have lived as private individuals Nicholas Romanov who had instructed to gather with your family at number 16 all off street tonight at 8 o'clock why what is to happen to us is necessary to move you disturbances are broken out through the town and they might endanger your person will be taken under guard this evening to 16 all off street and from there will be transported by automobile to more safe quarters be prepared to leave here by 8 o'clock very well at 8 o'clock a guard appears and leads the czar the czarina and their five children to the building at 16 all off street they are led into a low ceiling guard room in the basement in the dim light the empress and emperor of all the rushes find seats the children gather around staring with frightened eyes at the cold faces of the several red soldiers in the room the czar reassuringly grasps the czarina's hand she turns to him I'm afraid it's all right don't you worry it's all right horrible business so insolent it is my duty to inform you that your presence and that of your family is a threat to the third international your friends who are nearing the city succeed in rescuing you it would be a very dangerous blow to our cause therefore you have been sentenced by the committee of workers and peasants to be shot but spare the children in the empty distance of a single room on offer the danger we cannot risk the children of another guy let the children live today the union of soviet socialist republics born in the violent death agonies of old Russia presents the world with the interesting phenomenon of the first planned state only when the boys and girls of today who have been raised in a society which minimizes the family relationship in favor of a social relationship have grown to maturity and are in control of their society's destiny will the world know whether communism has been the right thing for Russia until then if we look upon her without prejudice Russia is the most interesting phenomenon in modern times and without doubt one of the great nations of the world we invite you to join us again next week at this time as we journey to another of the world's fascinating ports of call