Tag Archive for: Cold War

Multi-tasking at Its Finest

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By Kay Kendall 

By the time you
are reading this posting, I will be busily multi-tasking in Vienna, Austria. This
two-week trip with my husband combines a boatload of pleasures and missions. First, it
marks our fortieth wedding anniversary and also the completion of Bruce’s
arduous treatments for neck cancer only four months ago. So what if our pace
will be slower than on previous journeys? We will be there and thankful. Many
years ago we spent three days in Vienna and always vowed to return. This is our
time.

We will return
to places we enjoyed before and see others we missed—like the museum located in
Sigmund Freud’s old apartment and office, where psychoanalysis was born. There
is a famous coffeehouse I want to return to, Café Sperl, and of course we will
return—perhaps even daily—to the Sacher

SACHER TORTE!

Hotel to partake of its stupendous
culinary creation, the Sacher torte. Then there will be the museums and palaces
of the old Hapsburg Empire and the Mozart concerts in old churches.

So much for
frivolity! In addition, I will be researching some of these locations and many
more for inspiration for my third mystery in the Austin Starr series. I know, I
know. The second one, RAINY DAY WOMEN, isn’t even published officially until
July 7, but I am keen to begin my next writing project.
In this new book
my amateur sleuth Austin Starr will get ensnared in an East-West spy plot when
she accompanies her husband David to an academic conference in Vienna. As I’ve often
stated, I’m a student of the Cold War years—a fan, sort of—and Vienna was the
epicenter for spying during many of those years.

If you’ve seen
the beloved classic film THE THIN MAN, then you have some idea of what I’m
talking about. After World War II, the victorious Allied powers divided control
of Austria and its capital city, Vienna. This stage lasted from 1945 to 1955 as
the Western powers (the U.S., Great Britain, and France) confronted their
previous ally, the Soviet Union. As a consequence, both sides—West as well as
East—had their spies entrenched and embattled in Vienna for a decade. 

The
problems caused by divided control of Berlin culminated in the building of the
Berlin Wall in 1961 and then ultimately its tearing down in 1989. The historic
period of a divided Vienna is less well known, and Austria’s geographic
location—providing a nexus between East and West—ensured that tensions would
remain high even after Austria gained self-government in 1955. Fourteen years
after that, I will plunk my poor unsuspecting amateur sleuth into a hornet’s
nest of spies.
 All that political
turmoil lends itself to drama, intrigue, and murder. So you bet I can hardly
wait to dig into Vienna. While Austin Starr will come along for the ride—at least
in my brain—my three house rabbits have to stay home with the dog. But don’t
worry about them too much. The live-in pet sitter we hire spoils them rotten
while we are away.
~~~~~~~



Kay Kendall is a long-time fan of
historical mysteries and now writes atmospheric mysteries that  capture the
spirit and turbulence of the sixties. She is also an award-winning
international PR executive who lives in Texas with her husband, three house
rabbits, and spaniel Wills. Terribly allergic to the bunnies, she loves them
anyway! Her book titles show she’s a Bob Dylan buff too. RAINY DAY
WOMEN publishes on July 7 and is the second in her Austin Starr mystery series.
The E-book version is available for pre-order now and the trade paperback will
be soon. 

Big Macs, Moscow, and My Epitaph

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By Kay Kendall
Twenty-four years ago I
decided to write my own epitaph. On my tombstone would be these words—She led the worldwide publicity when
McDonald’s opened in Moscow. Although I sensed my PR career was not near
its end, I also realized I would never have a greater triumph.
The first Moscow
McDonald’s opened on January 31, 1990, when the world held five billion people.
Media monitoring showed the success of our publicity. Three billion knew 

the
Golden Arches of capitalist fame were now installed only blocks from Moscow’s
Kremlin, behind whose walls worked Soviet communism’s leaders. Russians will
recall the symbolism—how the restaurant’s opening heralded their government’s
increased openness to the West. In the two-plus decades since the flagship
store debuted in Moscow’s Pushkin Square, the number of McDonald’s in Russia grew
to more than 400.

Now Russia’s relationship
to the West is changing again, while media commentators herald a renewed Cold
War. And one aspect of that relates to McDonald’s. Two weeks ago, the Russian
government closed the McDonald’s flagship for so-called health violations, and
gradually more and more McDonald’s are being shuttered, across Moscow and in
other Russian cities too. Once again, Moscow McDonald’s has become a symbol and snagged worldwide media attention. My pals in the US, UK, and Canada email news reports that show photos of the opening, and I know I was there, in that crowd. 
Two decades of
negotiation by the Canadian wing of McDonald’s lay behind the event.
George Cohon, CEO of Canadian McDonald’s, led the charge. It was personal for
him. His grandfather was born in the same Russian village as the grandfather of
Brezhnev, leader of the USSR when Cohon began his quest.  For political
reasons, the U.S. parent company kept hands off. Back
then only joint ventures with foreign companies were allowed by Soviet law, so
McDonald’s partner was the Moscow City Council.

The
restaurant accepted only Russian rubles, not hard currency. Due to Soviet shortages, the company developed
its own supply chain in the Soviet Union, and the company prided itself
on sourcing everything within the USSR. I remember meeting potato experts who
had come from the province of New Brunswick (Canada’s equivalent to Idaho in terms of potato excellence) to teach Russian farmers
how to grow better potatoes for their fries. When Cohon wrote his autobiography
he called it To Russia with Fries.

Just as Cohon’s long
campaign to take McDonald’s into Russia was personal for him, so my
participation was emotional for me. Not only was it the triumph of my public
relations career, it also took me back to the USSR at an exciting time, made
even more meaningful because of an earlier seminal visit.
By a fluke,* as an
undergraduate I had studied Russian at a language institute in the USSR and
then got bitten by the Russian bug. The tragic past, the indomitable spirit of
the Russian people, the exotic architecture of the tsars—all this and more
intoxicated me. I also wanted to understand America’s Cold War enemy. Russia
was novel for someone who knew only Kansas and Texas well. My love affair with
Russia was deep and compelling, driving me to earn degrees in Russian and
Soviet history.
That student trip to the
USSR was in the sixties, and I only returned two decades later with McDonald’s.
My four long stays in Moscow during 1989-1990 came at a critical time. The
Berlin Wall fell, and Soviet leader Gorbachev indicated the Soviet Union might
be allowed to grow more democratic overnight. With all the Russian history I
had been immersed in, I understood the enormity of the potential change and was
beyond thrilled with my good fortune, working in Russia at such an electrifying
time.
On my final trip to Moscow
for the grand opening, I walked up to the airline counter in Toronto. The woman
checking me in asked how many pieces of luggage I had to declare. “One hundred
twenty,” I replied.  Yes, the launch of
Moscow McDonald’s was a mammoth undertaking—and my load was only for the
publicity.
Many scenes at the grand
opening were intense. Moscow police warned us terrorists were driving around
the city in a van with a small nuclear device inside. Chechens intended to make
a statement by blowing up the new McDonald’s, and hundreds of world media were on
hand to report the catastrophe. (That is, if they survived!)  My PR team grew nervous, but we were too busy
to stop and worry much.
One photojournalist sent
from a London tabloid wept when he got scooped by another paper. He had failed
his assignment—to capture on film the first sale of a Big Mac in Moscow.
Speaking of tears, on
opening day, one elderly babushka cried when she got her package of sandwiches
and french fries. One man bought two bags full of Big Macs to carry home to his
relatives living thousands of miles away in Novosibirsk. All the customers on
opening day (also for months afterwards) stood in line for hours before they
were served. Even with twenty-seven cash registers working full-time, the lines
stretched for blocks outside Moscow McDonald’s.
Memories of those
glorious days fill me now. I recall the severity of Russian weather that
January of 1990—even though I had already endured the snows of Ontario for many
years with my Canadian husband. In Moscow I trudged through knee-deep drifts,
visiting international media outlets in person, hand-delivering news releases.
Just imagine—how quaint. Yet that was more efficient than faxing, since there
weren’t enough telephone lines for use in Moscow. Our team already monopolized too
many with calls back to North America. I stayed long enough in Moscow to hear native speakers say I had developed the accent of a Muscovite.
Finally, my Russian language ability was gaining traction.
But those recollections mean
more to me than they would to you. Suffice it to say, with my love of the sweep
of history, the latest change in Russia’s relations with the West saddens me. I
would like to think that history marches on towards harmony and light, but my
studies tell me that is not true. So I cling to precious memories of my last stay
in Moscow.
My room was in the
National Hotel, only two doors away from the room Lenin had occupied—right after
he grabbed ultimate power in Russia. That was long before, in 1917, when workers and soldiers hoped for a brighter future after their revolution. We
never do know where history will take us, do we? 
________

 * I believe in lucky flukes. The headhunter who called me for the McDonald’s assignment had no idea I knew Russian. She was looking for someone to “take a tough assignment” and figured I could handle it since I was already VP of public affairs for another huge American corporation at its Toronto office. When she gave me sketchy details on the job possibility, I said, “I have visions of Big Macs.” She laughed and replied, “Oh, could be.” Thank goodness I read the papers and knew all about McDonald’s Russian adventure. In fact, the year before at a cocktail party, I had met George Cohon and offered my PR services. The headhunter’s call had nothing to do with that. It was mere luck. 

~~~~~~~

Kay Kendall is an international award-winning public relations executive who lives in Texas with her Canadian husband, three house rabbits, and spaniel Wills. Growing up during the Cold War, she grew excited when an ICBM (intercontinental ballistic missile) was installed near her hometown in Kansas. A fan of historical mysteries and the brilliant spy novels of John le Carré, she set her debut mystery DESOLATION ROW during the Vietnam War, a key conflict of last century not already overrun with novels.

Cold War Terrors–Redux!

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By Kay Kendall

The
lure of historic catastrophe hit when I was eight. On the movie screen a small American
town celebrated the return of victorious soldiers from World War I. How exciting it must’ve been to live during real
wartime, I thought.

Even
at that tender age I knew America was engaged in a dangerous cold war with a vicious enemy, the
Soviet Union. This massive Euro-Asian power—encompassing the former Russian empire
plus pieces of the Hapsburg monarchy—threatened my freedom. If the US-USSR stalemate
heated up, there would be drama and chances for glory ahead.
Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev said the USSR would “bury” the West. 

What
did I know about war? (In my own way, I must have been as naïve as those
deluded British soldiers in August 1914 who marched off to fight the Hun in
what became World War I, feeling sure they’d be home by Christmas.)   

Flash
forward nine years. The Cuban missile crisis pushed the entire world to the
brink of Armageddon. Only six hours before Khrushchev blinked—promising to
withdraw his missiles from Cuba—I took my SAT exams. What the heck, I thought. If everyone faced nuclear annihilation,
then I had little at stake and wouldn’t take my college entrance exams so seriously.

Now,
decades later, those memories flicker in my head while I watch events in Ukraine
on my television screen. As I write this, Russia has troops in the Crimean
region of Ukraine and even more troops and a thousand tanks ready to cross the
border. Pro-Western riots in Kiev have resulted in deaths and have been
answered by pro-Russian protests, perhaps Kremlin-instigated. Centuries of ethnic
bloodshed in this region lie behind these events.

Russian
President Vladimir Putin says “extraordinary” circumstances allow him to send
troops into Ukraine to protect ethnic Russians there. Meantime Ukrainian Prime
Minister Arseny Yatseniuk says Russia has “invaded” his country and places his
troops on high alert.

Media
pundits debate what the West can do. One points to a meaningful statement that
presages these events, made by Putin a year ago. The Russian leader said the
collapse of the Soviet Union was the worst geopolitical event of the entire
twentieth century. Yes, really! The foreign affairs analyst confidently
predicts a resurgent Russia under the crafty hands of Putin, whose first name is
the same as Lenin’s, who built the communist menace in the first place. Oh, the
portents are bad indeed.

This
new threat to the world’s balance of power is a long way from playing out. Who
knows where events will lead next? What will China do? North Korea? This may be
high drama, but it is not entertainment. This is not fun. All these nations
have nuclear weaponry. Are we in fact entering a new version of the old Cold
War, or will things suddenly turn hot? Red
hot?

Many people clamor for fiction that features massive
annihilation as a backdrop.

How do we explain being drawn to spy stories, horror
movies, serial killers’ tales and the like? As a writer who kills fictive
people for a living, I ponder this quite a lot.

I believe fiction like this works because it shows how people
can act valiantly in ruinous times, overcome their fears, and emerge on
top. When we read novels set during past wars,
we can get scared but we’ll know how things turn out. The Nazis always lose, even if
a few survive to plot another day.

As indicated, I grew up when the Cold War was in
fact pretty hot. An intercontinental ballistic missile was placed a few miles
from my hometown in Kansas when I was in grade school. That excited me, rather
than terrifying me. Serious tomes were written about “thinking the
unthinkable.” Yet, to me, the unthinkable was preposterous. I assumed that mutually
assured nuclear destruction would work as a deterrent. Surely rationality would
prevail. Anything else would be unreal. In a word, fiction.

I moved rapidly from a severe case of Nancy Drew-itis
to being mesmerized by John le Carré’s twisted spy stories. Smiley, his British
master spy, was always at pains not to let the ends justify any means. His adversary
on the other side of the Iron Curtain, Soviet master spy Karla, seemed to lack
all scruples and toyed with him, playing a vicious cat-and-mouse game. Smiley’s
bed-hopping wife Anne even got ensnared.  

When I finally felt compelled to devise my own
mysteries, it was natural to turn to my favorites as models. For two years I
drowned myself in mysteries set during World Wars One and Two and the Cold War.
There were so many excellent ones—too many, actually. Of all the major wars of
last century, only the wars in Korea and Vietnam weren’t “taken,” weren’t
overrun with thrillers. Vietnam offered a dangerous yet fairly empty gap that
needed filling…and I concluded I’d do the filling.

What I studied in college and graduate school was
Russian history. Obviously the Cold War fascinated me. These days, in our
a-historic times, it’s important to recall why the United States got mired down
in fighting a land war in Asia in the first place. The domino theory supplied
the reason. If South Vietnam fell to the communists pushing down from North Vietnam,
then that domino would fall and knock down another Asian country and another
until they all fell into communist hands.

My penchant for historical wars helps explain why
my debut mystery is set among the draft resister community in Toronto, Canada,
ca. 1968. I enjoy writing about historical turmoil that lends itself to personal
drama, intrigue, and murder; I can control the world that I build on the page.
That is comforting.

But now I must return to my television screen, to
wait for the newscasters to tell me that the crisis in Ukraine is escalating,
waning, or mutating in some as yet unforeseen fashion. I watch, mesmerized, waiting
for comfort to come, even if it is only temporary. Only until the next geopolitical
horror fills my screen, or screeches from the headlines of the New York Times. Sadder and wiser than in
my youth, I no longer trust the nuclear deterrent to work.
*******

Kay Kendall is an international award-winning public
relations executive who lives in Texas

Kay & house bunny Dusty

with her husband, five house rabbits,
and spaniel Wills. A fan of historical mysteries, she wants to do for the 1960s
what novelist Alan Furst does for Europe in the 1930s during Hitler’s rise to
power–write atmospheric mysteries that capture the spirit of the age.



Discover more about DESOLATION ROW, here at
http://www.KayKendallAuthor.com