SMETANA AND THE BEETLES: A FAIRY TALE FOR ADULTS

• Document Type: CREST
• Collection: General CIA Records
• Document Number (FOIA) /ESDN (CREST): CIA-RDP88-01350R000200680011-8
• Release Decision: RIFPUB
• Original Classification: K
• Document Page Count: 7
• Document Creation Date: December 16, 2016
• Document Release Date: November 4, 2004
• Sequence Number: 11
• Publication Date: December 1, 1967
• Content Type: MAGAZINE

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SMETANA AND THE BEETLES : A. Fairy Tale for Adults
/WENTY LETTERS TO A FRIEND. By Svetlana
Alliluyeva. New York: Harper & Row.
246 pp. $5.95.
Reviewed by Albert E. Kahn
Drawings by David Levine
PREFATORY NOTE
Lest there be any confusion between the
Smetana of this fairy tale and any living
person, it should be pointed out that
"Smetana" in Russian (and in Yiddish)
means "sour cream."
It is also of interest that the two best
known works of the celebrated composer,
Smetana, are The Bartered Bridp and My
Country. A.E.K.
Once upon a time there was a Princess
Whose name was Smetana.
She lived in the realm of Marxdom.
Her father was a Wicked Man.
He kept her in a Castle named after him;
It was called the Gremlin.
The Castle was surrounded by a rusty
Iron Curtain
And a Moat full of Krokodiles and
Vodka.
Friendly Letters
That began, '"My Darling
Gremlinskaya ..."
He gave her a Sailor Suit and wrote her
(in her native dialectic).
Once he sang Happy Birthday to her
Bedtime Dogmas.
And he read her Grim Fairy Tales and
He hated Dogs and Decolletage.
He frowned at Modern Art, Be-bop
and even Little Bo-Peep.
He never smiled, except at Smetana.
He had a bodyguard of Dour Dwarfs
Called the Cult of Personality Service,
Or.COPS for short.
Gremlin was mean to his Subjects.
He was suspicious of Foes and Especially
Friends.
He fumed and feuded with a Far-Off
Place
Widely publicized as Freeland Inc.
But he was kind-)p Smetana.
He carried her dt9und, even as a Big
Girl.
.At night she sat on his Knee
Gremlin was a Dour Dictator.
He never played Golf.
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Gremlin wanted to keep his little
Castle-Keeper
And brooded when she grew up and
Up and UP.
One day Smetana meta Prince
Charminsky
Who was very Cosmopolitan.
He showed her the film "Snow White'
and the Seven Dwarfs"
And other Hollywood Pixie-Flix.
Gremlin's COPS had bugged the
Projection Room.
He gave Smetana two slaps and the
Prince eleven years.
To get Smetana's mind on Other Things,.
Gremlin gave her a Charge Account
At Gloom Department Store;
Made her a student at Gremlingrad U.;
Let her cook, play the Harp and darn
It proved a flop.
He found her marching with the
Gremlin Guard.
"Nyet! Nyet! NYET!" he stormed.
answered back.
Day!" ,
There came a day when Gremlin Passed
His COPS and Krokadiles skipped town
And tried to cover up Their Tracks.
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The Jig was tip. ~ hey sar , 'Sorry, metana, u
The news made the front page in the Gremlin's Days are Gonna."
Times
And two lines in Pravda.
The Castle was For Rent.
New Tenants took the place,
fumigated it,
And opened up some Shutters.
People punched peep-holes in the rusty
Iron Curtain.
Smetana was told her lease was up.
She found a pad in a Gingerbread
Apartment House
Among Commoners and Volga Folk.
No one called her "Princess" any more.
Things began booming in Marxgrad
(Formerly Gremlingrad).
~ d c 1z Zd 31 L be $ Cant
went up.
Hopes and Hi-Rises rose.
.Taxes and billboards of Gremlin's
mug came down,
And a knock on the door meant.only
Groceries.
Folks chewed the Fat and danced
the Frug.
There it was called the Thaw.
But what was sweet for Ivan was sour
for Smetana.
People lambasted her Poppachka.
She could not find a Satisfying Job
or her Identity.
She tried her hand at the Writing Game
And did a piece called Life with Father
in the Gremlin.
It was turned down cold and
That really burned her.
She decided to go see Coseegan and
to mesh with Bresh,
Two fellows who had Access to
Publishers.
It's no snap for a retired Princess
To find.Peace, Privacy and her Real
Self.
Such, alas, was Smetana's
Post-Gremlin Malady.
So she consulted a Mental Magician
With a degree from the Tajmahal.
He put her on his Magic Couch.
"Your problem is," he said, "you've
become State Property.
Native Cook's Tour.
Peasants played Moonlight on the
Ganges,
Multiplied magically in Model Huts,
And fed their kids on Flowers and
Rain-Water Pop.
You need a Change. Visit my homeland
of sunny Midlindia.
There's a three-week Excursion Rate.
One thing you must be sure to do.
Consult the Beetles while you're there.
I've heard about their Wondrous Powers
and Therapeutic Works.!'
"And who are they, Kind Sir?"
asked she.
"Free Spirits," he said, "who make
Music, Merry and Mazuma.
They're practicing Eastern methods with
Maestro Shangri-La.
They'll help you find your True Ego.
Their Rhythms should release your
Inhibitions.
Instead of Nyet! Nyet! Nyet!
They prescribe Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!"
Smetana flew by Airflop to Midlindia,
Taking along her Folding Crown and
Treasured Manuscript.
The strange land seemed like Paradise
to her.
She loved the native cooking and took a
But nowhere could Smetana find the
Beetles,
And this bugged her.
Vainly she searched in crooked streets
among bizarre bazaars.
And combed the Yellow Pages and Ads
for Lost and Found.
One day she thet a Fakir teaching a
Cobra the Flute.
"That's charming music, Sir," she said.
"Are?you perchance a Beetle?"
"So sari, Sahiba," said he. "But let me
Turn On.
Ah yes, I see a vision of Free Tourist
Information
At the Embassy of Freeland Inc.
Won't you join me in some Yoga?"
Next day Smetana visited the Embassy
. of Freeland Inc.
"I seek the Beetles, Sir," she told the
guy at the Door.
"Would you be One of Them?"
"Only when in disguise," he winked..
"I'm Joe, the Clerk-In-Apt ndance.
Just call me CIA."
"And I'm Princess Smetana, Sir," she
-said. "Gremlin's Only Heir."
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 The Jig was Up. Approved For R~
The news made the front page in the
Times
And two lines in Pravda.
The Castle was For Rent.
New Tenants took the place,
fumigated it,
And opened up some Shutters.
People punched peep-holes in the rusty
Iron Curtain.
Smetana was told her lease was up.
She found a pad in a Gingerbread
Apartment House
Among Commoners and Volga Folk.
No one called her "Princess" any more.
Things began booming in Marxgrad
(Formerly Gremlingrad).
Sputnik and stocks on the Borscht
went up.
Hopes and Hi-Rises rose.
Taxes and billboards of Gremlin's
mug came down,
And a knock on the door meant only
Groceries.
Folks chewed the Fat and danced
the Frug.
There it was called the Thaw.
But what was sweet for Ivan was sour
for Smetana.
People lambasted her Poppachka.
She could not find a Satisfying Job
or her Identity.
She tried her hand at the Writing Game
And did a piece called Life with Father
in the Gremlin.
It was turned down cold and
That really burned her.
She decided to go see Coseegan and
to mesh with Bresh,
Two fellows who had Access to
Publishers.
72 RAMPARTS
IMw; 5f .J3srr ?eR61R88-013P0R00
Gremlin's Days are Gonna."
It's no snap for a retired Princess
To find Peace, Privacy and her Real
Self.
Such, alas, was Smetana's
Post-Gremlin Malady.
So she consulted a Mental Magician
With a degree from the TaJmahal.
He put her on his Magic Couch.
"Your problem is," he said, "you've
become State Property.
You need a Change. Visit my homeland
of sunny Midlindia.
There's a three-week Excursion Rate.
One thing you must be sure to do.
Consult the Beetles while you're there.
I've heard about their Wondrous Powers
and Therapeutic Works."
"And who are they, Kind Sir?"
asked she.
"Free Spirits," he said, "who make
Music, Merry and Mazuma.
They're practicing Eastern methods with
Maestro Shangri-La.
They'll help you find your True Ego.
Their Rhythms should release your
Inhibitions.
Instead of Nyet! Nyet! Nyet!
They prescribe Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!"
Smetana flew by Airfiop to Midlindia,
Taking along her Folding Crown and
Treasured Manuscript.
The strange land seemed like Paradise
to her.
She loved the native cooking and took a
Native Cook's .Tour.
Peasants played Moonlight on the
Ganges,
Multiplied magically in Model Huts,
And fed their kids on Flowers and
Rain-Water Pop.
But nowhere could Smetana find the
Beetles,
And this bugged her.
Vainly she searched in crooked streets
among bizarre bazaars.
And combed the Yellow Pages and Ads
for Lost and Found.
One day she diet a Fakir teaching a
Cobra the Flute.
"That's charming music, Sir," she said.
"Are you perchance a Beetle?"
"So sari, Sahiba," said he. "But let me
Turn On.
Ah yes, I see a vision of Free Tourist
Information
At the Embassy of Freeland Inc.
Won't you join me in some Yoga?"
Next day Smetana visited the Embassy
of Freeland Inc.
"I seek the Beetles, Sir," she told the
guy at the Door.
"Would you be One of Them?"
"Only when in disguise," he winked..
"I'm Joe, the Clerk-In-Attendance.
Just call me CIA."
"And I'm Princess Smetana, Sir," she
said. "Gremlin's Only Heir."
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Ct ntinued
 He chuckled. "TeligoorW4l For Rel
Marines, Sister."
"By happenstance," said she, "I've my
Memoirs in my Purse.
The Family Album and Poppa's
Letters, too."
He took a hurried look. "Jumping
Jehoshaphat!" he gasped.
"Welcome, Princess! You've come to
just the Place.
We've all the Beetle data-wingspan,
hair length, the works.
Won't you step into our Parlor?"
You can guess what happened then.
Thus Princess Smetana vanished from
the Scene.
Gremlin's Kid was in the clutches of
CIA! t
He flew her in his Private U-2 to
Neutralia,
Where he said the Beetles were skiing.
There he stashed her away in an Alpine
Hideout.
Marxdom was mystified and miffed;
Their Miffing Persons Bureau sent out
an Urgent Flash.
Freeland Inc. swore they hadn't
kidnapped her
And offered Foreign Aid.
Every Mob prepared its Alibi..
Newsmen and Publishers, posing as
Mountain Guides,
Searched for her among the peaks with
Contracts in their Rucksacks.
Some Game of Jekyll and Hyde
and Seek!
Lights burned late those nights in the
offices of Freeland Inc.
/ Joe CIA, after all, was their Errand Boy;
And he'd been involved in Scrapes like
this before.
a'T ZOO8? Y1lq! 'Sedlir4dRUPld8W03~
an ex-Diplomatic Wizard
called Mr. X because that was not his
name.
He had a Nasty Cold-War Cold.
"Princess Smetana's on the lam with
CIA!" they cried.
"Contact them! And call us collect."
Mr. X consulted his Good Neighbor
Policy
And summoned his good neighbor,
Mr. Z,
An Aging Alchemist and
Counselor-at-Law
Who knew his Way Around.
The Wizard and the Alchemist jetted
to Neutralia.
When they saw Smetana yodeling,
They flipped their Lids.
"Some Princess!" said Mr. X.
"A beaut," said Mr. Z.
"Are you Beetles, Sir?" she asked.
"CIA said I'd find them here."
"Not quite, Your Highness," said
Mr. X. "We represent Freeland Inc.
But we offer all the features of the
Beetles.
Free Speech, Free Thought, Free
Enterprise .
They're Bosom Pals of ours. We hear
their music all the time."
"You bet," said Mr. Z.
Mr. X described the land of
Freeland Inc.
There was, he gently said, no Gremlin
there,
Only a Fairy Grandfather in a White
Ranch House,
Who loved Beagles, Bugles and Bagels,
Babies, Barbecues and Brotherhood.
Everyone there was Happy or Hippy or
Both.
Flower Children danced in the Streets,
And there were fireworks even in the
Ghettos.
"You'll find Peace and Privacy," said
Mr. X. "Your Own Identity."
"And will I surely find the Beetles
there?" Smetana asked.
"That's part of the Contract,"
said Mr. Z.
"I'm a Gypsy now," Smetana told
her Visitors.
"I'd like a Camping Car and Gypsy
Dog.
Do you have that breed in Freeland
Inc.?"
"Yes, ma'am!" said Mr. Z.
Whatever else her Memoirs earned,
she said,
Could go to charity for Homeless Elves .
and Aged Dwarfs.
"Hold on!" said Mr. Z.
RAMPARTS ? 73
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 money in the West Q
To gas the Car and fee"der$Xd For
He opened up his Sample Kit,
Took out an Entrance Course to Free
Society, -
And counseled her on Contract Law and
Bank Accounts.
"Your Royalty must think of royalties,"
he said.
"It's a Matter of Principal, you see.
Just follow the Red-White-and-Blue
Rainbow,
There's a Pot of Gold at the end."
Heading home, Mr. Z pondered his new
client's Potentialities.
"She'll make a Mint," he mused.
"To guard it from the Evil Monster, Tax,
We'll form a foreign Treasure Trust-
Kopeks Unlimited.
Some Public Relations firm can publicize
her Private Life.
And, by the buy, she'll need a Publisher.
A firm of firm repute. Then Famous
Publishers should do.
They are my clients, too."
Thus Princess Smetana came to
Freeland Inc.
Consider the Historic Implications:
She was the last of the Gremlin Line;
There'd been this Rumble between his
gang and Freeland Inc.'s;
And now she'd come over to their
Territory.
They pulled out All the Stops,
Gave her a Ticker Tape Parade and the
Keys to Freedom City,
And proclaimed a National Holiday.
She took it like a True Princess.
"Hi Folks!" she cried, as if just One
of Them,
Gaily waving her Crown and Memoirs.
The crowd went Wild.
"I hope my book will enrich your
Western Literature ..."
:eleelef le}~p' `IADP8e$-01
The pri- clothbound will be $5.95, still
less i. aperback."
It was sure to be a Sell-Out.
Next day Smetana held court with the
Press,
Flanked by her RR Men and Private
1/AI.AJ. i, 11
She stated why she'd come to Freeland
Inc.
"I'm Non-Political, of course; no
comment on Napalm.
But Marxdom's not for me.
I like your Way of Life and Right to Riot.
To sum it up, I've seen The Light."
In Gremlin Castle, she explained, the
Lights had never worked;
So she had never noticed that people
Disappeared.
Now, after fifteen years, the truth had
Dawned on her.
"Especially," she said, "I've come to
meet the Beetles."
"But Madame, they're flying over
Marxdom," a newsman said.
"They may.receive the new Free-Enter-
Prize."
"Alas!" she cried. "Cool it, Princess,"
said CIA.
"Our man in Marxdom will signal them
you're Here."
Reporters are tough and know, you
know, the Score.
But Princess Smetana really Got to
Them.
Tears glinted in more than one
Bloodshot Eye;
It showed that blood will tell.
They wrote, with unabashed Reverence
and unabridged Roget,
About her Saucy Smile and Sweet
Simplicity,
Her Gracious Girlish Wholesome Pure
Etcetera.
"Her simple words," reported one,
"have the Force
Of the trumpets of Jericho."
Now that was really a blast.
"A Terribly Important Book," Famous
Publishers told the Press..
"It's History, Highclass Literature and
. Inside Stuff.
We're sure you?'1l agree, since you're
publishing it too."
.At Famous Headquarters, a Conference
got Underway.
"We estimate-with all the rights-
it's worth ten grand a page.
Roughly Three Million Bucks."
"Gentlemen-a Toast! To the Princess's
Health and Wealth!
Long may she Reign!"
"But can she Write?" a junior editor
piped up.
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 What a Hell of a Questippproved For ~elease 2005,
Smetana's Book came out.
So did some Facts of Life:
She was no go-go Gogol; her Diary,
no Zhivago-go.
And Critics can be Critical,
Even of Regal Revelations.
Smetana did more research on her True
Identity.
"I am no writer," she announced,
"and never hope to be.
Yesterday I thought I was, but that
was Yesterday.
Today I only seek the Beetles.
My Memoirs? Just some Pen-Pal
Notes."
A famous editor implored, "Go Easy
now, Princess!"
As if that weren't Grief Enough,
Pirates plundered her Royal Purple
Prose.
In Marxdom, she'd complained of
Censorship;
Her problem now was too much
Freedom of the Press.
Her publishers and Mr. Z rushed up
their Legal Guns
To save her Treasure from the
Buccaneers.
Meanwhile Smetana anxiously sought
the Beetles and Herself
With Blue Bloodhounds and Private
Eyes
In a plush-lush suburb called Limbo.
"Pray tell," she asked at every Golf
Course Green,
"Have the Beetles yet returned?"
"We've offered them Honorary
Memberships," the golfers said.
"They'll join us any day."
ON A WAR
RAMPARTS 75
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Smetana wearily sighed and went her
way.
She carried on her Beetle-Quest with
growing perturbation
Among Debutantes and Dilettantes
In country digs of the Upper Crust.
"I have to find the Beetles!" she
beseeched.
"Only their Charms will help me find
myself."
But all she found were Scones and Tea
and Sympathy.
And that wasn't u y Picnic.
"I greatly fear," sJ~e said despondently,
"I've been given the' Wrong Directions."
Z~w
DOUBLEDAY? PARIS REVIEW EDITIONS
"For the first time I'm really apprehensive
about what I'm going to find...
"It's not a matter of fear of getting shot at ... I'm
just wondering what's going to be left of 'my,old
Viet-Nam'..."
BERNARD D. FALL'S
LAST REFLECTIONS
 Approved FJ
A new and revolutionary
interpretation of Jesus, His
mission and meaning, based
upon His own words works,
and drama as they are posed
against the knowledge of
twentieth-century man.
r
(11B ~ 111L
By PRESTON HAROLD
Introduction by Gerald Heard
DR. OLIVER LESLIE REISER, Pro-
fessor Emeritus, Dept. of Philos-
ophy, University of Pittsburgh:
"Mr. Harold has rendered man-
kind a valuable service in utiliz-
ing the methodology and findings
of science - from physics and
biology to parapsychology - in
seeking to understand the role
of religion in man's changing
civilization. He shows much com-
petence in his task and comes
up with a world view that will
have to be taken into account by
others in this area."
HENRY MILLER, author: "The
Shining Stranger is truly re-
markable ... The author's erudi-
tion is formidable ... But anyone
eager to get his 'message' will be
. bie to read between the lines ...
He has made of Jesus an extra-
ordinary being whether viewed
from a religious standpoint or the
'laique' one ... There are pas-
sages which are dizzying-as if
we were dealing with a being
from another planet."
DR. MARTIN E. MARTY, Univer-
sity of Chicago Divinity School,
in Saturday Review: "The Shin-
ing Stranger is as radically dif-
ferent-as is Craven's Jesus ...
Debate about Him and His role
will not end with these volumes,
but it may take on new heat."
DR. J. B. RHINE, Director of The
Institute for Parapsychology: "I
am glad to see in The- Shining
Stranger an attempt to bring
parapsychology to the aid of
religion."
ALY WASSIL, President, United
World Religions: "The Shining
Stranger is among the very few
profound, realistic works ... pav-
ing the way for religious peace
in the world and the unity of
mankind."
A Wayfarer Press Book $7.50
Distributed by Dodd, Mend & Company.
New York
One night Smetana slept alone under
a Patchwork of Stars
Among Flowers and Mosquitoes.
Suddenly, the Insect Hum took on the
beat of "Yeah! Yeah, Yeah!"
And-lo!-strange smiling Forms
appeared
With Electrical Antennae.
Smetana cried with joy, "Dear Beetles,
you have come'at last!"
"You're on the n'i6on beam, Lass,"
they sang. "That'?' who we are.
And yet that's not our name. Our
name is every name.
We're different, too, and all the same.
We live in every land and on the
farthest star.
You've had the wrong lead. Address us
care of Love, Luv."
"And Who am I?" begged she. They
sang, "You're you and we.
You had it tough. So did we all. We
too were not Born Free.
We sprung free in ourselves and in
necessity.
We crack the quacks and bust the bars
of bondage everywhere.
Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!"
"And how do I find Joy and Peace
of Mind?" asked she.
They sang, "Kick looking back and
blow the status quo!
The present is already past, the future
what will be.
It's far beyond ourselves that we
must go."
She cried, "Can I go with you there?"
They chorused, "Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!"
Just then Smetana's Bodyguard rushed
up,
Shouting, "Princess, where have you
been?"
The Beetles vanished in the Night.
1 AN ARQ i$ i1ny, "You've
driven my Beetles away!"
Ah Me! Alack-a-Day! You know what
they say
About the best-laid magic carpets of
Princesses, Mice and Men.
Smetana's Long-Sought Dream had
Fled.
Yet even so, This Maid was not
Dismayed.
She dried her tears next day on
Travelers' Checks;
And when a Tipster whispered,
"Bet on the Beetles making book in a
Hollywood Musical,"
She packed her Crown and Contracts
in her Camping Car,
Loaded first editions of her Book
(in fifty languages),
Stocked up on Bones and Biscuits for
her Gypsy Dog,
And drove West toward the Setting Sun.
Her Faithful Retinue of Private Eyes
Brought up the Royal Rear.
And cunningly Hidden Away
Among her Fan Mail, Manuscripts
and Myrrh
Was that rascal CIA.
He'd really become attached to Her.
THE END
?Copyright 1967, by Albert E. Kahn
and David Levine. Smetana and the
Beetles will be published by Random
House at the end of November.
Mr. Kahn is the author of Sabotage!
and Days with Ulanova, a study in text
and photographs of the Russian ballerina.,
Approved For Release 2005/01/13 : CIA-RDP88-0135OR000200680011-8