By Edward Limonov
About six months ago, office of my party (National-Bolsheviks Party) have received a phony call from the "Russian credit" bank. Young and rather excited voice demanded a help in finding latest Edward Limonov's book, in occurance photo-album "Limonov in photos" (his parents, his wars, his wifes). Surprized, but cool, my boys have taken his telephone number in the bank and corresponded it to me.
I have called that individule in a few days. Out of curiosity. Mr. Gratchev was happy to hear from me and said that he was hunting for my photo-album for monthes. As a matter of fact, he said, that book of mine intended to unlarge the complete collection of my books of his boss, president of "Russian Credit" Bank Mr. Malkin. "How much it will cost for us?" asked Mr. Gratchev. I said it going to be 90000 rubles for everybody, for the banker, as well as for the worker. Only three hundred copies have been printed, so it's expensive, sorry. Than I asked if I can meet his boss and give my book to him myself. Never before I met a president of a Russian bank, it gonna be interesting experience. Mr. Gratchev said that it is exciting idea, he should contact his boss and ask him.
When he called my back he said that his boss is absent, but he wanted badly to have my photo-album on Friday, so the best idea will be to give it to him, to Mr. Gratchev, and he will talk to the boss to set up the meeting later. I said "OK", we get agree that one of my boys will bring album in to the bank. I wrote "To the banker from revolutionary. It will be interesting to meet," added my phone-number and send album with my boy to "Russian Credit".
Then nothing happened. Great admirer and collector of my work never called my. So, I don't know how the Russian bankers are. Later I saw him on television, my banker. He had broken nose and looked like a friend of mine Yuri Brokhin, writer and criminal, executed at 1982 in New York, by a bullet behind his right bar. Brokhin belonged to the very first generation of a Russian mafia, settled in New York city.
Once I made an experience. I wrote an appeal to the bankers to help our Party and with my staff we have sent it to about a 200 banks. First we intended to send it to more then one thouzand banks, but as only one bank of two hundred called us back, we stopped experience. Only one bank reacted on my name and excused itself, with a promise to help us some day. Sure, we don't expected them to attack us with a business propositions, but I thought may be a dozen of them will feel interested by an exotical party of Limonov. No, they are square as a track-drivers, they have no imagination.
Recently, old friend of mine, photographer and director of a model agency called my after a long time of absence. I know him from 1972. I met him in Moscow, then I was friendly with him in New York, Paris and now Moscow again. Director-photographer narrated to me his personal story. Rather sand and silly story. It is about the banker. His name is very impressive: Berezovski.
My director-photographer always traded in models: he have shipped models from New York to Paris, later in Moscow he shipped Russian girls to Paris. He also shipped some of them to a Russian and foreign businessman. Of course, only if that particular girl was willing to spend an evening with a male. Once, he found himslef with an order for two girls: to be present to decorate a meeting between two very important businessman. It was a summer, the order came late in the evening, so he couldn't gind an available girl. Only available was his own girl-friend, four monthes pregnant. As director-photographer have placed in his apartment guest of honor, - his own father, his girl-friend temporary lived with her parents.
Slave trader called to his girl-friend and sended her to restorante where two VIP-businessmen were about to dine. Pregnant girl-friend have taken with here another girl, non-pregnant.
Few days later friend of mine met his girl-friend and was surprised to find her wearing an expensive "Cartier" bracelet. Asked, where did she get it, girld said that it is a gift from the businessman whome she entertained the otehr evening. She said that was Mr. Beresovski. That other evening he dined with Mr. Gusinski.
"Jesus!" exclaimed friend of mine when narrating to me that story: "I asked her: Tania, is he carring "Cartier" bracelets with him in his pockets? "No," she said, I met him once more. Don't worry, I don't sleep with him. He likes to talk. Than, Edward, she disappeared. I called her at her parents apartment. They say, she is in a hospital. But, they say, they don't know where exctly. Jesus, Edward, she made an abortion, she later said it was miscarriage... She said she don't love me, she is in love with a Beresovski. She said he rented an apartment for her, she lives in that apartment and he comes from time to time." Friend of mine was silent for a moment. "Latest news from her? She called and asked to see me. She said she lives good live: he gives her plenty of money, he payed her expenses... "He is known as a faithfull man to his girls, Edward. But she starts to be little bit bored with her good life..."
Russian Bankers... I don't know them. Those stories are not proving that Russian bankers are bad boys. They are pieces of information about banekrs. And those pieces prove that bankers as cowarrd and as silly as anybody. On the contrary making money on selling and buying and borrowing monthly in the country, majority of population of which is poor and underfed, is pure crime. What they deserve, Russian bankers is nine grams of lead behind the ear.