Odessa in Imperial Russia

Sailing back across to Ardrossan Harbour today, I couldn't help but think what it would have been like to arrive in Odessa in Imperial Russia in 1912 - a far cry from the Odessa today affected by the pro-Russia conflict in Ukraine. Myles describes the finery and the entertainment of the city and Sailor Town. What I found most striking his acute sense of his place in the world when confronted with the ladies and gentlemen of the theatre...

Here are some excerpts from his time there: 

Sunday 28th January, 1912

...Odessa is a fine city, throngs of well dressed and stylish citizens filling its thoroughfares. Three years ago when I was here last I had a good look round the city, which I like well. Down outside the dock gates I found changes, that is, as regards the pubs where seamen used to congregate. I looked for the Main Top. A bar is still there but the inscriptions outside are all in Russian, the Main Top has gone. I looked for the Grosvenor; a like fate had befallen it. There was still the London Bar, kept by a Greek, but it was not the place of old. Eventually we entered the American Bar a place well heated inside and very comfortable. We stayed there quite a while and those who drank it found the beer good. Beer costs 10 kopeeks a glass, lemonade, (my drink) 15 kopeeks. Our wants were attended to by a German waitress who speaks a little English. Trinks and the donkeyman talked to her in German, becoming rivals – fluent ones indeed – for her favours. The other seamen present were German, Scandinavian, and a few young men apeing Yanks. Pennsylvania Dutchmen I guess.

About 8:30 Hansen and I left Trinks, Gowans, the donkey and the Swedish firemen to their beers and the German girl; they were anchored for the night.     
...
Wednesday 31st January, 1912

Busy this morning clearing deck of snow. A very cold day but no snow fell.

Tonight went to the Seamen's Institute. I had three games of billiards, 50 up, with an elderly gentleman (the chief engineer of some ship) I winning two of the games. He insisted on paying so I let him. 

Along with our ship’s messroom boy I enjoyed a stroll through the city. The streets of Odessa are broad and there is plenty of room on the sidewalks. These had been well cleared of snow. Smart strapping men in military garb, as well as smart dressed civilians, promenade with stylishly dressed ladies of pleasing features. A fine set of folk to my way of thinking. Still, there is the ever present poor looking miserable in their rags. Russia has its share of poor people, seemingly unnoticed by the well off. Outside of a well lighted picture hall stood a little ragged girl selling papers. Accosting us she held out one of them for us to buy. Of course we did not understand what she saying though we knew the meaning her action conveyed. I gave her ten kopeek piece for her paper. After glancing at a few illustrations I returned it to her. The light in her eyes was good to see, it was worth 10 kopeeks. The sleighs, of which there are a great number are drawn by wiry horses, driver by quaintly dressed drivers, who stand in front while the fares sit behind them covered up with rugs. Sleighs carry two passengers. An electric car service is also running. 

...

Sunday 4th February, 1912

...

The day is bright and clear, but a strong northerly wind makes it extremely cold, too cold indeed to go walking in. So stayed in my ‘cart’ all day. Not in a satisfied way, for I would have liked to have had a good stroll. I will make it a point to remember, never come to the Black Sea again at this time of the year. Though all the crowd are fine men, sociable and so on, as I am the only non-drinker, my position among them is a somewhat isolated one and I find myself at a loss for a suitable companion.

Of course the boys go where a welcome is extended to them; consequently that takes them into peculiar society. The low down drinking dives, the house of prostitution which is ubiquitous (and iniquitous), that part of a port know as Sailor Town, these extend their not altogether disinterested welcomes, to simple sailor men hungering for a little sympathy and thirsty for a good time. “Don’t forget the Eldorado” (-The Antwerp Bar’ – the Sunderland Bridge or whatever they call their den) “Come on jack, nice girls in my house” “Do you want a tailor. Everything cheap”

Such questions and invitation assail their ears as they wander through Sailor Town, tolerant of the smiles of shore sharks. They are smiles anyhow. The boys go ashore to spend their few shillings, and are not to particular where or how, so long as they can forget for a few wild hours their weary life on the ship board. And who else extends a welcome? The Seamens Missions do. Oh yes. But there the boys too often find a distinction made between the officers and men. The officers’ room with the big billiards table and decent fitting, then men’s whit ‘draughts’ (various) a few newspapers and bagatelle boards, as well as other little things not liked make seamen touchy. Thus, many don’t visit them very often. True it is, a lot do, passing pleasant evening; concerts and social gathering being held. Nevertheless a good many people would be astonished to head the criticisms of sailors and firemen, (men who know these institutions all over the world) and learn the Sunday names given to those who conduct them.

...

Thursday 8th February, 1912

...The Mission man today invited us to a theatrical performance, an invitation extended to all the crews of the English shops. Entry free. As per agreement several from our ship went to the ‘Institute’ at 7:30pm.

There we found a large gathering of men from other steamers, all anxious to see the play, an amateur effort got up by the British residents. About 8 oclock we left the Institute (near a hundred of us) headed by two Russian boys to show us the way to the theatre where the play was to be performed.

Before setting out we were warned to be very orderly going though the streets, and not to make any noise or stir on the way as the Russian police are strict and always on the alert from a disturbance of any sort. It would not be the first time a crowd of seamen had been arrested and imprisoned said the Mission man. He hoped it would not happen to us. It did not, for we were well behaved; nevertheless the sight of a long string of unmistakably foreign seamen marching through the streets caused a mild sensation among the citizens. Many were the glances of curiosity levelled at us.

On arriving at the theatre we were shown up a long flight of stairs that brought us to a gallery from where, a good view was obtained of a very pretty interior. Down in the auditorium (big word) the seats (cane bottomed chairs) were empty, the spectators having not yet arrives. The hall was pleasantly heated and perfumed.

Soon the place began to fill with well dressed folk. Gentlemen perfect and ladies charming, the latter in dreams of dresses as the womenfolk say. A few of them, just a few, deigned to glance our way with a sort of well bred curiosity. To the most of them, we were not there. As I looked down on that scene of fine feathers, noticed the bowing and seraping and salam samming, the kissing of ladies hands I felt as one gazing on another world, as one allowed to catch a glimpse, to be on the fringe but not permitted to come nearer.

However, up in the gallery we had the attention of two fine strapping armed policemen, who were there to see we were good boys and kept order. Our behaviour was excellent so they had a good job. Until the performance started at 9 oclock we were all engrossed in watching the well-dressed throngs below, and indulging in good-natured criticism anent the same, we actually looked down on them, perforce.

An apprentice and I enjoyed ourselves immensely watching the antics of a long lean curate with a big nose that was surmounted by a pair of specs. The giddy curate of stage life he was, and a wonder of wonders, here he was in real life. With hands clasped breast high, he hopped about among the seats, grinning like a Cheshire cat, bowing here, bowing there, continually bowing in (to us) the most comical fashion in the world. From side to side went his head, while the grin (we hesitate to write smile) never left his face. How he buzzed round the ladies; they claimed his greatest attention, and he seemed to be acquainted with a lot. We had a hearty laugh over that gentleman who, maybe, is not so silly as he looks.

At 9 oclock the piece entitled – The strange adventure of Miss Brown – and produced by Mr Leslie Waller, commenced. There were three acts, all of which went along splendidly, amateur effort though it was. All the characters were well acted, especially so the schoolmistress of Mrs Leslie Waller and the Sergeant Tanner of Scotland Yard, played by Mr George Robson, a Lloyd’s surveyor.

It was a great success; every seaman there enjoying it. Through the generosity of Mr T. Robson, the seamen present were given ‘ free beer’ between the acts, a very thoughtful and much appreciated action. Good old Robson. Here’s wishing you luck!

At 15 to 12 the play was ended, so down the stairs we went, away from the brilliantly lighted, warmed and scented hall to the darkness and cold of the night outside. Motorcars and droskys quite a lot of them, were waiting there to take the ladies and gentlemen home. Us seamen, in little batches, walked, finding our way back to our ships, as best we could. The air was chilly, the rain drizzling and the streets were dirty underfoot.