Lot 246
  • 246

Vasiliy P. Mishin

Estimate
300,000 - 500,000 USD
bidding is closed

Description

[Private diaries and notebooks, for 1960-74. Various places, 1961?–74]



31 volumes, various sizes.  Autograph manuscript diaries and notebooks signed (e.g. "V Mish" in volume 8, Jan.–Oct. 1966), in Russian, chiefly written in fountain- and ball-pen inks, with pencil and colored pencil, recto and verso, on ruled or quad-ruled paper, in commercial prepared diaries or exercise-books.  Various bindings; variously preserved.

Condition

[Private diaries and notebooks, for 1960-74. Various places, 1961?–74] 31 volumes, various sizes. Autograph manuscript diaries and notebooks signed (e.g. "V Mish" in volume 8, Jan.–Oct. 1966), in Russian, chiefly written in fountain- and ball-pen inks, with pencil and colored pencil, recto and verso, on ruled or quad-ruled paper, in commercial prepared diaries or exercise-books. Various bindings; variously preserved.
In response to your inquiry, we are pleased to provide you with a general report of the condition of the property described above. Since we are not professional conservators or restorers, we urge you to consult with a restorer or conservator of your choice who will be better able to provide a detailed, professional report. Prospective buyers should inspect each lot to satisfy themselves as to condition and must understand that any statement made by Sotheby's is merely a subjective qualified opinion.
NOTWITHSTANDING THIS REPORT OR ANY DISCUSSIONS CONCERNING CONDITION OF A LOT, ALL LOTS ARE OFFERED AND SOLD "AS IS" IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE CONDITIONS OF SALE PRINTED IN THE CATALOGUE.

Catalogue Note

An incomparable witness: the unpublished diaries of Korolev's deputy and successor, the director of Russia's space program during the "Moon Race".

His diaries, Mishin recalls, "took an utmost effort of mine.  I was thinking about destroying them.  They are my private diary, which I started in 1958–1959, and kept up through 1974.  Some of the entries were made promptly in the wake of events, others written down as recollections.  I put my soul in them."

A brief survey of Mishin's diaries gives some idea of the riches they hold.  Volume I (1961?–65?) begins as a sort of memoir or summary of the Soviet space program in 1960 and '61, and devolves shortly into outline form, and then into a chronology.  The first portion (comprising leaves 2–13), written with a fountain-pen) was written not long after Gagarin's epochal flight in April 1961; and we may well imagine it was at this time that Mishin began to see how his place at the heart of great events afforded him a special privilege as their chronicler.  At a later date — perhaps at the end of 1965, or perhaps much later — Mishin returned to this volume, and continued his account of the space program, casting it first in outline form through 1961, then as a monthly chronology through April 1962, and at last daily through November 1965.  All this suggests that the second portion of volume I (comprising leaves 14 through the end, written with ball-pens), represents a distillation of Mishin's contemporary diaries for 1962–65 (volumes 3–6), perhaps for a projected memoir.  This distillation adds a number of new details, including — importantly — the full names of individuals who had been indentified only by their initials before: a particularly rude minister, for example, is now named explicitly: Marshall Malinovskiy. 

The second volume covers the period from 12 October 1961 through November 1962, and again seems to have been written in at least two stages — the earlier, contemporary account by a smooth hand in blue fountain-pen ink, and the later, retrospective account by a more tremulous hand in black fountain-pen or blue ball-pen ink.  It begins: "Again two new trials. 12–17 Oct. Yesterday we had heated discussions, we were struggling for 'acceptable formulations,' and today worked successfully again.  Everybody was happy, even those who are not normally.  These people are satisfied only because our successes make up for their failures.  Tonight I am flying out to serve as stand-in for S.P. [Korolev].  He is a delegate to the 22nd Party Congress, and has to be in Moscow.  Morning, 14 October.  All is going along normally.  The chairman is A.I.S.  As usual, he is beating about the bush, being overcautious to protect himself.  In the morning meeting of the commission, he again raises the old question: Is it worth the work?  Maybe we should pause.  He finds no support among the big-shots, not even the old man.  The old man is very angry with the chairman.  Things are rolling along.  Suddenly, a hydraulic burst.  Chairman.  There is a leak.  Panic.  Everybody scatters, and we retreat to the farthest command station.  The only communication channel available is through loudspeakers.  We take all possible precautions.  All the personnel is in shelters.  There are four people on the launching pad.  We make the decision to empty out the component onto the ground.  The time is moving extremely slowly.  It's a torture.  The liquid is emptied.  The pad area is full of gas.  A minor mistake can cause fire.  The emptying is completed.  We wait until the liquid evaporates and inspect the area.  We are lucky.  It looks better than we expected, and now normal operation is possible.  Finally, the emergency is liquidated.  I drive off to report to S.P. by phone.  He had already called and is worried.  After the conversation with S.P., I stop at the office of N.A.  He is about to take the plane to leave.  We are talking in his office.   Suddenly there is a call from I.V. (the leading engineer).  There is a fire in the bunker, and some people are inside.  We (myself, A.I., V.I., and M.I.) rush to the launching pad.  The fire is in the equipment room.  Three people have been rescued.  One is badly burned.  One is inside and there is no way to get through to him.  The cause of this disaster is lack of discipline and poor organization (somebody lit up a cigarette in a gas-filled room).  It is a major set-back and leads to a loss of time, and we are short for time anyway.  The old man is frustrated and angry, but takes all the steps to correct the damage in the shortest possible time."

And on 24 October ¨C "The chairman has again started his maneuvering (though in a private conversation), while Leonid acted as a yes-man with a wise mien.  I had to talk to him bluntly.  Today is the anniversary of the Black Day of our technology.  There is an opening of the monument for those who died in the accident.  Arkady has arrived with his family.  In the meantime, L. went with a group of people who were free from work to attend the funeral.  Only quality work today would be the best homage we could pay to our dead comrades."

Through his diaries Mishin remains conscious that he is writing about a secret state program; and so he gently but thinly disguises many of his co-workers' and government officials' names under their initials or titles, and the names of specific projects under such names as Product 9.  Similarly to work probably means "to launch"; and a distant point is a landing site.  But his dates seem absolutely accurate; and his forthright discussion of political meddling and technical failures, even disasters, is perhaps unique in the record of the Soviet space program.

Thus, in the fourth volume (for July–November 1963, leaf 12) we read: "17 Oct. G.M. Tabakov has arrived.  Today we will be able to work with Product Nos. 9 and 92.  At 5.00 p.m. tomorrow we will be able to work if the weather is suitable for flights at the distant point.  So far this has not been promised, and so we are planning for 19 Oct.; but we will finally decide at midnight after we get a new weather report.  At 1.00 p.m. (local time), we find out that the flying weather at the distant point will be suitable.  Tomorrow we will have perfect weather.  We decide over the telephone that we will work today.  At 4.30 everybody gets up.  At 5.00 we leave for the launching pad.  At 7.00 the launch of No. 43.  The start and the flight of the first stage is normal; the second stage does not attain its operating condition.  What a disappointment!  It all started so well and ended so badly.  During the start Anatoly Semenovitch panicked (the clouds were low, it was raining, the flames from 'B' were brighter than the first time and seemed to be taller).  He yelled, 'Explosion!' and threw everybody into confusion.  But how happy we all were when we received telemetry from the communication point that the flight was 'proceeding normally.'  After a brief rest (I was falling asleep) we reviewed the films.  At 1:00 p.m. we went to the launching pad.  No. 92 with Z-tov was being prepared there.  Everything was going normally.  There arrived V.N. Sha-y and S.N.Kh--v [Sergei Nikitovich Khrushchev, the premier's elder son] with a large retinue.  They were accompanied by General Zakharov himself ("the able one").  At 2.30 p.m. (local time) the launch of 92 with Z-tov.  Everything is normal: we have Cosmos 20. V.L.N. congratulates us (in a cool and aloof manner).  Then Khrushchev junior left immediately without saying goodbye.  5.00 p.m. GK based on results of analysis of the measurements.  Everything is normal.  The second-stage engine did not reach operating condition because the fuel line after the pump was destroyed."

An incomparable, untouched trove: Far beyond anything in all the memoirs and interviews that have been published in Moscow and elsewhere, these documents present this historic era from an entirely new dimension, full of authentic details and precise dating.  They are written by the very hand that steered the Soviet space program for years; they are strictly contemporary with the pioneering events they chronicle; and they are extraordinarily frank and unsullied by the kind of secrecy and misinformation that cloaks so much of the Soviet space program.

At Sotheby's request, James Oberg examined the Mishin diaries in close detail; and he concluded that "any attempt at telling the history of the space race without the material in these notebooks will be second-rate."