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194 CHAPTER 9 A Window Flung Open New Beginnings IN EARLY SPRING 1927, ELEANOR PRAY DESCRIBED THE VIEW OVER the Amur Bay from the Nielsens’ dacha at 19th Verst: “If I could only lend you my eyes for a moment—the big window is flung wide open, in the foreground is the . . . purplish brown of the still bare trees, with the background of hazy blue hills, each crest outlined by itself, . . . and over it all this glorious spring sunshine—the birds are singing, too, but a freight train coughing its way out of Okeanskaia station less than a mile away, rather drowns their music” (24 April 1927 to Dorothy).1 In Mrs. Pray’s own life and that of her beloved Vladivostok, nature’s colors and sounds remained vibrant, sometimes hidden by the noise of civilization, yet patiently continuing to offer comfort and beauty. That the Russian Empire had become the Soviet Union immeasurably influenced the lives of everyone living in Vladivostok, including Eleanor Pray, but she kept on writing her letters, continuing to open up the windows and doors into Vladivostok. Two far-reaching events occurred within half a year of each other. On 25 October 1922, troops of the People’s Revolutionary Army marched victorious into Vladivostok, signaling the end of the Civil War and the victory of the October Revolution. Then, on 2 April 1923, after weeks of suffering an unusual cold, recurring boils, and blood poisoning, Frederick Pray died. Now a widow without an income in a perplexingly changed socioeconomic climate, Eleanor had to create a new strategy for her existence. Despite her grief but with her customary pluck, she began dealing with the ever-increasing property taxes, the shortages of food and fuel, and the innovative but to her distressing housing regulations. She was a bourgeois lady trying to find New Beginnings ✴ 195 her way in a socialist society: “Of course I have been spoiled with all these easy years and no responsibility, so every molehill seems a mountain” (4 June 1923 to Sarah). Contrasting the Prays’ first Vladivostok decades in their large, elegant home with servants, money, and festivities, Eleanor Pray now saw almost every facet of her life contracting. Sharing Dom Smith with numerous other tenants, she occupied just one of its rooms for her own; instead of intricate dinners dramatically unveiled by the kitchen staff, she cooked her own frugal meals; and without the support of a husband and relatives, she had to find salaried work. The turn her life had taken was daunting. While the next few years were to become a tapestry of complex beginnings , highlighted with occasional splashes of both exuberance and conflict, one thread remained unbroken throughout: the joys and concerns of faithful friendships and human contact. Eleanor Pray supported those who were in need: “Yesterday [I went] to congratulate Mrs. Piankova [on her name-day], though there is precious little to congratulate her upon. All our acquaintances were there and it was really very jolly . . . for knowing what a hole the Piankovs are in, their friends made an extra effort to come” (1 October 1929 to Sarah).2 And in a stroke of great kindness, Alfred Albers removed more than Mrs. Pray’s financial instability by offering her a position as translator at the firm of Kunst and Albers.3 Far from a sinecure, this connection with intelligent colleagues and shared professional tasks gave her life a steady rhythm that she liked and that helped her heal. During her seven years at Kunst and Albers, Eleanor’s relief at having an occupation and a regular albeit small income deepened into true affection: “The office work does not tire me and I am always glad when it is time to go in the morning” (9 November 1923 to Sarah). Best of all, the beauty and solace of Vladivostok still stretched out all around her. Life’s difficulties became almost insurmountable for the old bourgeoisie. The Piankovs were among Eleanor Pray’s closest friends, once among the wealthiest families in Vladivostok. In 1924, their town house on Svetlanskaia was “municipalized,” that is, made public property,4 but their dacha at 19th Verst continued to be a welcoming weekend refuge for many friends, with its offer of tennis and bridge, walks along the sea, and skiing and sledding in winter.5 When, for much of 1927, the Piankovs disappeared from Eleanor Pray’s epistolary horizon, one might wonder what rift had broken the friendship . Only letters hand-carried from Russia...

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