Fodor's Complete Guide to the Soviet Union - 1988-2025

In 1948, English author George Orwell authored his dystopian novel and cautionary tale, “1984.” Thematically, it focuses on the consequences of totalitarianism, mass surveillance, and repression of people and behaviors within society. Set in the future thirty-six years hence, it presaged conditions in the Soviet Union, which was then only twenty-two years old. In the Stalinist era, which lasted until 1953, every horror of Orwell’s imagination had come true for the citizens of the Soviet Union (USSR).

The Berlin Wall, a symbol of the Cold War, fell in November 1989. By 1991, the old Soviet Union was in complete collapse. The German Democratic Republic, also known as Eastern Germany, also demised. The Federal Republic of Germany then took full control over both West and East Germany. In Russia, there was an incipient spate democracy. An opening to western ideas, institutions and trade gave great hope to the people of the former Soviet republics. There was a rapid rise in health, wealth, and the general standard of living throughout the former Soviet Union.

On December 31, 1999, following the resignation of President Boris Yeltsin, Vladimir Putin became Acting President. He was first elected President of Russia on March 26, 2000, and then re-elected in 2004, 2012, 2018, and 2024. In 2005, Putin told his nation that the collapse of the Soviet empire “was the greatest geopolitical catastrophe of the century.” Secretly and then more openly as time passed, he sought to reconstitute Russia as a world power. His plan was to regain hegemony over all lands that had ever been under Russian control. Under his direction, Russia conducted warfare in Chechnya, Georgia, and Syria, to name a few.

In February 2014, Russia invaded the Crimean Peninsula, then and now an internationally recognized region of Ukraine. In March 2014, Russia officially annexed Crimea. Eight years later, on February 24, 2022, Russia invaded Ukraine, proper, with the goal of reintegrating the entire country as part of Russia. By November of 2024, Russia had gained significant territory, but had lost almost 750,000 men, killed, wounded, or captured. Some analysts put the casualty total closer to one million. The Russian economy was in tatters, with the exchange rate between the Russian ruble and the U.S. dollar falling below one hundred to one. In other words, the Russian ruble was worth less than one U.S. cent.

On June 27, 2024, the U.S. State Department, issued a travel advisory, which said, in part, “Do not travel to Russia due to the consequences of the full-scale invasion of Ukraine by Russian military forces. U.S. citizens may face harassment or detention by Russian security officials, arbitrary enforcement of local laws, limited flights into and out of Russia, and the possibility of terrorism. The U.S. Embassy has limited ability to assist U.S. citizens in Russia.”

Ironically, well before the 1989 fall of the Soviet Union, travel to many parts of the USSR were open to U.S. and European travelers. Although the Beatles never played in the Soviet Union, Elton John received a visa and became the first “out-and-out rock artist” to play there. Sir Elton’s 1985 album, “Ice on Fire” featured the song, Nikita. In the accompanying video, English athlete, actor, and model Anya Major played the role of a beautiful female Russian soldier.

Wearing white tank-top and red shorts it is Major who hammer-throws the sledgehammer into the screen of Big Brother in Apple's famous 1984 Macintosh commercial. The unidentified “Big Brother” in the Ridley Scott directed commercial was not the Soviet Union. Rather, it was tech entrepreneur Bill Gates. His company, Microsoft, then held the dominant operating system in the emerging personal computer field. Steve Jobs of Apple fame had commissioned the television commercial as a rallying cry against the perceived tyranny of Microsoft. Orwell, himself died in 1950, so no one knows what he might have thought about themes in his seminal book appearing as black comedy in a later television commercial. My guess is that he would have appreciated the irony.

The travel guide known as Fodor’s issued its “Fodor’s Soviet Union 1988” in English, targeted toward Western travelers. Among other sections, it featured “Ukraine and Moldova – Breadbasket of the USSR.” and “The Crimea and the Black Sea – From Odessa to Batumi.” One example of travel opportunities available to Westerners in 1988, included Ukraine’s regional capital of Kherson. In 1988, Fodor’s said, “Kherson is your final stop on the Dnieper River. Founded as a fortress in 1788, it is both a river and a seaport. From here you can visit the new town of Novaya Lakovka and see the Kakhovka Dam and its hydraulic power plant. This is where you leave the Dnieper River, but you can take a 300-seat hydrofoil to Odessa, which is only two hours’ ride.”

In 1991, Ukraine declared independence from the USSR. Although uncontested at that time, in 1996 Ukraine agreed to return its entire nuclear arsenal to Russia, including an estimated 1,900 strategic warheads, 176 intercontinental ballistic missiles, and forty-four strategic bombers. In exchange for receiving the third most potent nuclear arsenal in the world, Russia offered debt forgiveness, plus economic and security assurances to Ukraine.

In March 2022, early in the invasion of Ukraine, Kherson fell to Russian forces, without a fight. The fall of Kherson was due to treachery on the part of several local officials. On November 11, 2022, the Armed Forces of Ukraine wrested control and liberated the city of Kherson from Russian control.

In the early hours of June 6, 2023, the Kakhovka Dam failed, causing extensive flooding along the lower Dnieper River. At that time, the dam was under the control of the Russian military, which had seized it in the early days of the conflict. Although Russian authorities have denied the accusation, many experts agree that Russian forces blew up a segment of the dam to hinder a planned Ukrainian counter-offensive. What resulted was an environmental and human disaster. Hundreds were killed, along with the flooding of towns and agricultural fields.

Because of its proximity to the active war front, Kherson remains vulnerable to Russian artillery, drone, and missile attacks. For example, on October 1, 2024, Reuters reported that "six people were killed when Russian forces struck the southern Ukrainian city of Kherson. Another six people were wounded in the artillery strike on a central bus stop, prosecutors said in a statement. Governor Oleksandr Prokudin said the strike also hit a central market while residents were shopping." On December 30, 2024, Russian troops shelled thirty settlements in the Kherson region. One person was killed and four were injured, as reported by Prokudin.

In 1988, westerners could travel to the U.S.S.R without fear of harassment or intimidation, and many did. Although the country was not free by Western standards, it was accessible. After 1989, the country was still not a place of free expression, but western tourism and investment were welcome. Western corporations and banking enterprises flocked to Russia and its former vassal states. With a combined total population of 290 million inhabitants, the importation of Western goods and services set off a period of great economic growth.

In 2014, with the invasion of Crimea, the international political and financial climate soured. Several Russian companies and individuals were sanctioned, but there was no military response from the Western powers. Russian natural gas and oil continued to flow unabated to Western Europe. Until April 2023, contracts between Russian oil companies and their U.S. counterparts allowed Russian oil deliveries to California refineries. U.S. producer Phillips 66 plans to idle its 139-Mb/d Los Angeles Refinery in late 2025. Although unstated in official announcements, loss of crude oil supplies from Russia was a major factor in reduced output and profits at the refinery.

In an unexpected diplomatic turnabout, on July 18, 2019, the Donald J. Trump administration withheld $250 million of U.S. military aid to Ukraine. Seven days later, President Trump conducted a phone call with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky, during which he asked Zelensky to collaborate with his then lawyer, Rudy Giuliani, and U.S. Attorney General William Barr. During the call, Trump pressed Zelensky to investigate Ukrainian business dealings of former Vice President Joe Biden and his son Hunter.

By December 2019, after a formal House of Representatives inquiry found that he had solicited foreign interference in the 2020 U.S. presidential election, Donald Trump's first of two impeachments took place. He was accused of seeking Russian help in his re-election bid and then obstructing the inquiry itself by telling his administration officials to ignore subpoenas for documents and testimony.

The February 2022 the Russian “Special Military Operation” intended to take all of Ukraine under Russian control launched with a thirty mile traffic jam of Russian military equipment. According to reports at the time, the operation was expected to last between three and ten days. Today, as I author this article, we have passed the 1,000th day of an all out and illegal war against the country and people of Ukraine.

I think back now to how naive many Westerners were and continue to be about the threat that Russia represents to world order. In 1988, I could have booked flights, hotels, and an excursion on a 300-hundred seat hydrofoil in Soviet dominated Ukraine. Today, U.S. travel and commerce within Russia or a simple tourist visa to Ukraine are not an option. For as long as the current Czar of Russia rules, he will continue his illegal war in Ukraine. The only person for which the war remains necessary is Mr. Putin, himself.

Slava Ukraini.

Email James McGillis

Moab Memories - The Gemini Bridges Road 2006

along. Hurrying there was a relative term, since the terrain became rockier and harder to pass.

Soon we came upon what we later learned is “Gooney Bird Rock.” He, for I assumed it was a “he” himself, guarded the lower canyon. In all my research no one has mentioned how tall the Bird is, but he appears to be about 150 feet tall. Later, I learned that it is legal to climb this iconic piece of Wingate sandstone. With the over-climbed demise of the once famous Cobra, farther up the Colorado River, I am amazed that Gooney Bird Rock has not received proper protection from hordes of climbers.

Regardless of erosion and lack of protection, Gooney Bird Rock was a remarkable sight. As the late September sun shone upon its full height, the colors of the sandstone and the filtered light of the sun combined to make him glow in ethereal tones. Realizing that our own light would soon fail, we headed down the trail toward the highway far below.

As I have said before, scale is hard to judge in the canyons. As the Sun set, three Jeeps roared by, heading up canyon. Here, in the adjacent photo, the first Jeep is climbing the roughest and the steepest part of the road. To our astonishment, the Jeeps headed up trail as if on a Sunday drive. In 2006, Jeeps were smaller and simpler than the ones we now see in 2024. Those earlier models could easily glide over rough terrain and the small obstacles of the Gemini Bridges Road. In fact, Moab has been the proving grounds for new Jeep models for many years.

When the Sun finally set, the canyons became dark, and photography became secondary to getting safely down to the highway. Near the end of the trail, the road hugged the side of a rocky mountainside, clinging to a narrow rock-ledge. When I say “rock,” there was not a spec of soil or sand to drive upon. Only the shape of a single-track trail was discernible in the headlights of my truck. Since

there was no turnout, we hoped not to meet any late arrivals traveling up canyon.

After an arduous end to what we thought would be a simple jaunt, we finally approached the gathering point near the railroad tracks at Seven Mile Canyon. By then, twilight had faded behind the massive redrocks canyon walls. By the time we started on the short highway trip back to the Moab Rim CamPark in Moab, nightfall surrounded us.

In those days, the Moab Pile was yet untouched by a massive removal project we now know as UMTRA. As such it completely hid the lights of Moab from our view. In 2024, the removal of the Moab Pile has once again created a full view of Moab as one passes by the entrance to Arches National Park.

From the red rock canyons near Moab, Utah in the year 2006, the Gooney Bird says, “Bye, bye.”

This is Part Two of a two-part article. To read Part One, click HERE.

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Moab Memories - Dead Horse Point 2006

In the late summer of 2006, I moved my travel trailer from Kanab, Utah to Moab, Utah for a three month stay. At the time, Moab remained “undiscovered” by the hordes of motorized enthusiasts that now tear its out-lands asunder for the sheer pleasure of throwing dust, dirt, and plant life into the air. At that time, most visitors were hikers or bicyclists, with a lesser number of Jeep enthusiasts.

“Side by sides” and “quads” were yet to become the off-road vehicles of choice. Person-power prevailed over horsepower. At that time, no one had heard of an electric bicycle. Yes, there was running water, indoor plumbing, and electricity, but looking back eighteen years ago, Moab felt like it belonged at the turn of the twentieth century, not in the first decade of the twenty-first century.

At that time, wireless telephone and data services relied on the 2-G network, with occasional hints of 3-G speed, but only then during the early morning or late at night. Since I was running my executive recruiting business from my travel trailer, I was sensitive to data usage. Each afternoon, as the outdoor enthusiasts returned to Moab and the number of emergency-calls for assistance skyrocketed, my computer wireless data would go from slow to zero connectivity.

After much diagnosis with my mobile phone and data provider, I discovered the truth. The entire City of Moab was running from a single wireless transmission tower, situated above the Sand Flats Recreation Area. Even in that era, before the release of the Apple iPhone in 2007, the use of mobile telephone and data networks was exploding, with the various providers falling far behind.

Additionally, I learned that police and fire agencies took first priority, with mobile telephony in second place and my business lifeblood, mobile data a distant third in priority rankings. With my business connectivity curtailed as each afternoon wore on, I learned to start earlier and to go out and explore the land in the late afternoons.

Following are excerpts of what I wrote about our late afternoon wanderings around the redrocks areas just outside of Moab:

September 26, 2006 - Greetings from Moab Utah… The land of 4-Wheeling and off-road biking. We have been here for about three weeks and there is so much to see and do that we could spend months exploring and not see the same thing twice.

The first weekend, we set off for Dead Horse Point State Park. Legend has it that cowboys in the 19th Century herded wild mustangs there and then culled the herd, taking only the best. The less capable horses remained to die, corralled on a point overlooking the Colorado River, below. In today’s world, one dead horse might be acceptable, but for men to purposely leave herds of horses to die in the blazing hot desert was indeed cruel and unusual punishment.

After taking the turn from U.S. Highway 191, and on to Utah Highway 313, we were still on the way to the park. Looking for anything of interest, the first vista point held a Civil War battle scene. There, standing tall and proud in the desert were two sandstone buttes, resembling the first “ironclads,” the Monitor and the Merrimack (later known as the CSS Virginia). During the opening days of the U.S. Civil War, those two unique ships had fought to a draw in the Battle of Hampton Roads. The two buttes before us aptly conjured that epic battle, one hundred and forty-four years prior.

From Dead Horse Point itself, we could see no remnants of a corral, fencing or of dead horses. Utah has a way of cleaning up its history and prefers to present itself in the most positive historical context, regardless of the carnage that often occurred in its early days. The most egregious conduct occurred before Utah statehood in 1896. Instead of dead horses, we viewed the potash settling ponds far below and adjacent to the Colorado River. In my previous trip to Moab, in 1965, the potash ponds had not yet come to fruition, since in situ mining of potash in the area was then still to come.

The Colorado River itself hid from view in a nondescript trench at the bottom of the Anticline, which encompassed the vast area within our view. In the far distance was the La Sal Range, which remained dry and snow-less in early fall. In less than two weeks, the seasons would change, bringing autumn to canyon country and winter to those mountains.

Turning my camera to the south, you can see the Colorado River in the foreground. It flows to the right of the picture and circles around in what is known as an entrenched meander, or goose-neck. As the river cuts down into the rock, the land itself is uplifting, locking the river into its ever-deepening banks. From there, the river passes to the left in the middle ground of the picture and then again south into Canyonlands National Park. There, at what is known as The Confluence, the Colorado River joins the Green River, which has its origins in Wyoming.

Another shot, to the east, shows the vastness of the river canyon and an interesting pyramid, fooling our eyes, and making us think it was human made. Each layer of strata in this vast area was once an ocean bottom or a an alluvial plain. How, one wonders, could so much material erode from a once great plain and travel down the Colorado River to points south? Did it happen in a million years, or five hundred million years? I like the concept that it happened all in one thunderstorm of proportions unimaginable by today’s standards. As it traveled downstream, such a flood could well indeed cut the entire Grand Canyon in a single episode.

While we were there, a great bird soared by, and I was able to catch it at full telephoto. I then zoomed in on the picture and cropped it to bring it in even closer. Was it a California Condor, far from its release point in the Sespe Condor Sanctuary or was it an Andean Condor on a hunting trip to the Northern Hemisphere? Either way, it was the largest bird I have ever seen on the wing. El Condor pasa.

This is Part One of a two-part article. To read Part Two, click HERE.

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Sliding Down Barham Blvd. in a Beetle

The endless summer was over and we were back in school. One Friday evening in October 1965, a group of friends and I caravanned from Burbank to Hollywood. There, as underage youth, we could buy cigars without showing identification. The Wolf Bros. Crooks brand, with their, “Rum Soaked, Dipped in Wine” motto, were our favorites. With alcohol-soaked tobacco, we pretended that we were drinking and smoking at the same time; only our lack of access to alcohol kept us sober. That night, I rode shotgun in my friend and classmate Phil Plank’s Volkswagen Bug, which he called his “V-dub.”

The only separation from opposing traffic on Barham Boulevard consisted of a double white line. On the downhill ride toward Burbank, the slope ended at an intersection with Forrest Lawn Drive, better known to us as the River Road. On our return trip from Hollywood, the road rose over a hill, and then descended, while acing slowly to the right for about a quarter mile. As Phil held his steering wheel to the right, the camber of the roadway sloped gently to the right, as well.

At Burbank Senior High School, we learned some basic laws of chemistry and physics. For instance, “Oil and water do not mix,” “An object in motion tends to stay in motion,” and “The heavy end of any object will try to lead the parade.” Pushing in the cigarette lighter at the top of the hill, Phil ignored all these laws.

As we crested Barham Boulevard, a slight drizzle began to fall. While waiting for the cigarette lighter to pop out, Phile reached down to tune in the AM radio and activate the windshield wipers. With our friend’s car ahead of us, Phil wanted good music and good visibility for his overtaking maneuver. In his exuberance to overtake, and in steadfast belief in his own immortality, Phil accelerated throughout the long downhill curve. Soon enough, all the laws of chemistry and physics came into play.

After months of a Southern California drought, oil on the roadway glistened colorfully in the headlights of oncoming vehicles. The emulsion of oil and water on the roadway provided friction like a sheet of ice. As the tires lost traction on the road, I found myself looking straight into the headlights of an oncoming car. With its rear engine design, the V-dub tried to swap ends and thus lead the way with its engine-heavy tail. In a vain attempt to slow down, Phil slammed his foot down on the brake pedal.

As we swung once again towards oncoming traffic, I saw my Maker. Who would believe that God drove a 1958 Cadillac? With unwavering speed, the heavy Caddy struck our little Bug, making contact aft of our driver’s side door. Mercifully, the impact sent us back to our own side of the road. According to one witness, we swung around three times as we descended the hill. Facing uphill, windshield wipers still thumping, we stopped just short of the intersection at Forest Lawn Drive. Less than half a mile from our final resting place that night lay the largest cemetery in Los Angeles.

Staring straight ahead, with both of his hands still clutching the steering wheel, Phil sat in shock. A telltale splatter of blood on the windshield told me that the impact had caused his nose to hit the steering wheel. Still gripping the grab handle on the passenger side of the dashboard, I exclaimed, “Phil, we f---ed your whole car.” When I received nothing more than a blank stare from Phil, I got out and helped direct traffic around Phil and his badly broken Beetle.

The whole event took less than a minute. Although my life did not flash before my eyes, as events unfolded, I knew that my life might end at any moment. That I survived uninjured gave me a startling clarity that only such near-death experiences seem to bring. I was seventeen years old and blessed to be alive.

Excerpted from the 2018 Book, “True Tales of Burbank,” by Wesley H. Clark and the late Michael B. McDaniel (1956-2024). Both authors are Burbank High alumni.

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