The King of Vodka (11 page)

Despite this aversion to upper-crust gatherings, he appreciated the accoutrements of a more genteel lifestyle, as did Mariya. Their home displayed exquisite imported furnishings and the finest craftsmanship in all of Russia. They wore beautiful clothing and maintained luxurious carriages, and they had plenty of servants. The couple embraced the aristocratic life.

 

I
N THE AFTERMATH
of so much death and despair, Smirnov was content. Almost exactly nine months after their marriage, Mariya gave him his third son. Vladimir was born on February 7, 1875, just weeks after the first installments of Tolstoy's
celebrated novel,
Anna Karenina,
appeared in the
Russkiy Vestnik
magazine. Vladimir favored his mother in looks with light hair and deep blue eyes. In the years to come, it would be apparent that Vladimir had also inherited his mother's appreciation for the aristocratic pleasures of life.

Smirnov's professional life was flourishing, too. His share of Russia's excessive drinking populace continued to increase—as did his collection of awards and honors. Smirnov sent his spirits to the Centennial Exhibition in Philadelphia in 1876. It was a momentous occasion for America, commemorating independence while showcasing the nation's emerging industrial prowess. Among the most notable exhibits was Thomas Edison's electric pen and duplicating press, Otis's steam elevator, and Alexander Graham Bell's telephone. In addition, thirty-seven foreign countries came to display their wares and innovations.

Russia sent a bounty of impressive agricultural machinery, tobacco products, confectionaries, and china. But what gained the most attention was its beverages. Some thirty-six Russians brought alcoholic drinks to Philadelphia, nineteen of whom focused on vodkas. “The first thing that strikes one is the variety of wines, brandies, and liqueurs Russia must make and drink. Here is
vodki
in every imaginable kind of bottle. When people travel for months in temperatures below zero such elegant bottles must be very comforting,” wrote the
New York Times
.
⁹

Though Smirnov had earned accolades in Vienna for his wines and vodka, in Philadelphia he emphasized only his vodka. Wine was quite well known in the United States already; it was an industry dominated by Western European producers. When it came to hard liquor, though, Americans preferred bourbon whiskey. Vodka was still mysterious, a drink yet to be discovered.

In the end, Smirnov received medals and high praise from the judges for his “high quality of manufacturing.” It was praise
enough to catch the eye of the tsar's ministers. Following his showing in Philadelphia, the Russian Ministry of Finance granted Smirnov the extraordinary right to place the prestigious state emblem on his products. This honor was rare, reserved primarily for people from the highest social orders whose products were of eminent quality.

This nod was the first real indication that Smirnov's strategic odyssey, hatched ten years earlier, was paying off. He had pursued his business aspirations with all the capitalist gusto he could muster, all the while adhering to the strict Russian order and its arcane rules. It had been a precarious balancing act, and now, with the state emblem on his products, consumers throughout the country would recognize in Smirnov an exceptional business, a laudable personal reputation, and a demonstrated dedication to community service. Other recipients of the privilege included Karl Fabergé, the famous jewelry designer, and Ludwig Nobel, an oil tycoon and the brother of Alfred Nobel, inventor of dynamite and founder of the Nobel Prize.

The Centennial Exhibition was a milestone, quickly followed by another, this time at the World's Fair in Paris. Smirnov's vodkas and wines snatched two gold medals there.
¹⁰
These awards from France carried particular sway with Russia's aristocracy, which bowed to all things French. They imported their governesses from France as well as their clothes, champagnes, and furnishings.

Smirnov's good fortune, like so much else throughout his life, was tempered by more personal tragedy. In 1877, within months of Smirnov's success in Paris, his father died at age seventy-seven. By Russian standards, Arseniy had lived a long, full life. Born into a peasant village in 1800 as a serf, he had overcome prejudice and stigmas to move himself and his family out from the depths of society. While Smirnov recognized his father's extraordinary contribution, few beyond him noted them. There were no front-page stories or crowds at his funeral.
Arseniy's death was a private affair. It left Smirnov, now forty-six, the undisputed patriarch of his clan. He was now the father who would steer his family through the next two tumultuous decades. Already Smirnov might have begun to feel rumblings of discontent.

 

T
HE TUMULT HAD
begun during the days of the Vienna fair, a severe depression that left no nation unscathed. The stock market crash in Austria had spurred a chain reaction, collapsing one country's economy after another. In the United States, about 18,000 companies declared bankruptcy between 1873 and 1875 while banks failed and industry struggled. In Western Europe, unemployment soared and business profits plummeted, as the railroad buildup and other industrial projects slowed. Russia suffered similar fallout, with layoffs and bankruptcies mounting. It also endured poor harvests and a high-profile bank failure in Moscow in 1875. Russians were shocked that an enterprise backed by the government could go under. A run on banks resulted, as depositors rushed to pull out their funds from what they assumed were now unsafe institutions.

These hardships left many Russians feeling vulnerable, but they also emboldened a burgeoning group of young, radical intellectuals. They were populists, and their movement was known as
Narodnichestvo
(
Narod
is the Russian word for “people”). Many of them came from prominent families and attended universities throughout Russia's metropolitan centers. These activists were united in a core belief that the peasants' life was unjustifiably miserable. These poor souls, they argued, lived in dire poverty, lacked education, and served as tools of a rigid and hopeless state and class structure.

In the spring of 1874, hundreds of these radicals fanned out into the Russian countryside. They prepared fake passports, dressed up as peasants, and trained themselves to perform odd
jobs, such as carpentry or farming. They planned to blend into village life, working alongside their less fortunate brethren. They believed that “going to the people” would gain them access to the hearts and minds of the masses, enlightening them on the unfairness of their condition. They believed it would be only a matter of time before an outright revolt, with peasants from every corner of Russia taking on the establishment and demanding a better way of life.

Instead, the activists were met with suspicion and mistrust. Many villagers were frightened by their revolutionary discourse, either unwilling or unable to understand such fanaticism. Some peasants even snitched on their new neighbors to the police, who then embarked on a quick and powerful crackdown. About 770 populists were arrested in thirty-seven provinces throughout Russia. Most were jailed or forced underground, failing to achieve any of their lofty goals. The movement, though, had its effects: Revolutionary, anti-tsarist thought was seeded.

Smirnov had little sympathy for such activism. He would have viewed the radicals as rude, disrespectful, almost criminal. How could they be so cavalier about order and authority? The tsar, as far as Smirnov was concerned, was God on earth, untouchable and all-knowing. To go against his wishes or policies was heretical. These people, Smirnov would likely have thought, were trying to undermine Tsar Aleksander II—and his reforms—the very actions that spawned Smirnov's enormous success. He was probably glad when the police arrested the protagonists and extinguished their campaign.

Other small demonstrations and uprisings followed the
Narodnichestvo,
but these were snuffed out and viewed by most Russians as sporadic nuisances rather than true threats to the stability of the nation. Of more concern, at least to Smirnov, was the growing unrest among factory workers. In the 1860s only a handful of labor strikes occurred each year, but in the 1870s, these incidents multiplied, peaking late in the decade when
nearly sixty factory strikes were recorded by authorities with an unknown number of others occurring outside the government's official notice.
¹¹

The increase was due, at least in part, to the presence of more manufacturing facilities in the wake of industrialization. But also to blame was the growing discontent among workers about their shabby treatment and lack of basic rights. Paltry wages and irregular pay schedules were among the chief complaints. Typical salaries at Russian factories were two times lower than in England and nearly four times lower than in the United States.
¹²
Worse, perhaps, was the random way in which employers paid workers. Delays were routine, with no explanation. At one Moscow factory, for example, a notice was posted by a manager after the regular payday, October 22, had passed:
THERE WILL BE NO PAY BEFORE THE 20TH OF NOVEMBER. ANYONE WHO DARES TO ASK ME FOR IT EARLIER WILL BE DISMISSED
.
¹³

Beyond poor wages, employees also complained about harsh working conditions. The average workday was thirteen hours, with some factories demanding as much as eighteen hours at one stretch. Another problem was excessive fines, assessed against workers for infractions ranging from tardiness to failure to attend church to smoking on the job to not taking off their hats when the owner entered a room.

The standard of living was yet another matter of concern. As peasants swarmed into cities for seasonal employment, they depended on their bosses to provide not only jobs but also shelter and food. Often beds were no more than rows of dirty planks, sleeping two or three men side by side. At one confectionary workshop, workers slept on the same tables where sweets were made. The food they served could also be substandard—and expensive—as employers sometimes deducted the cost of such staples from workers' paychecks.

Smirnov watched as his comrades, some of the leading business figures of the day, grappled with these issues. At one
of the Morozov's factories in 1876, some 540 workers participated in a strike largely against excessive fines. A textile factory owned by the Tretyakov brothers saw 1,500 peasants rise up to protest low wages in 1878. But it was the troubles faced by his fellow vodka makers that would have most captured Smirnov's attention.

Two strikes occurred in December. The first was at Keller & Co. in St. Petersburg. It operated the largest vodka factory, taking in 2.5 million rubles annually and producing roughly 574,000 pails of alcohol. By comparison, Smirnov took about 1 million rubles making fewer than 200,000 pails a year. During the strike, 250 workers protested a one-and-a-half-month delay in salaries as well as cruel treatment and work on holidays. According to an official report, one worker was beaten so badly that he could no longer work and had to return to his village. Another was found dead after being accidentally strangled by unsafe machinery. “Every night after work, workers gather in crowds, making noise, protesting oppressions,” the report said.
¹⁴
The other strike was at Shtriter's factory in St. Petersburg, with claims of cruel treatment. One of the tsar's vodka purveyors and a rival of Smirnov's at international competitions, Shtriter also produced more alcohol than Smirnov.

Smirnov had yet to face an employee rebellion. He might have privately congratulated himself in this regard. Smirnov had figured out, long before it was fashionable in Russia or anywhere else, that satisfied workers meant more productive, more efficient, more devoted workers. Consequently, Smirnov the factory owner saw his role as much as a caretaker as he was a manager. At least that's how his son Vladimir recalled it.
¹⁵

Smirnov's village upbringing served him well in this regard. He was a father figure to his workers, supplying the modest necessities of life in exchange for loyalty and obedience. It was a fair and decent trade. Smirnov's factory was still small enough for him to know personally, or at least be familiar with, most
of his employees. Managers were primarily family members or close friends; his 140 employees in 1878 were mostly known imports from his village or home region.

There were also solid business reasons behind Smirnov's management choices. In marketing himself and his brand, he recognized the benefit of having employees boast, rather than grumble, about their employment. It could only help build the impression of Smirnov as a benevolent and generous man if his lowliest employees were proud of their Smirnov affiliation.

Smirnov also paid many of his workers better than others in his industry. Machine operators and bottlers, for instance, could earn as much as twenty-five rubles annually with Smirnov while only eighteen rubles working at a competitor's factory.
¹⁶
Smirnov also employed no children or women, the converse being a relatively common practice among his rivals as well as at larger, more industrial operations. Some years later, Smirnov also paid for the educations of the children of his less fortunate workers.
¹⁷

Perhaps the clearest demonstration of Smirnov's attitudes toward his workers surfaced during a brawl outside his home one evening. Pyotr and Mariya were entertaining guests that night, drinking tea and conversing in their spacious living room when two workers stormed in. One had a black eye; the other's cheek was bloodied. They ran directly to Smirnov, according to the recorded memoirs of his son Vladimir.

“Pyotr Arsenievich! Father! Forgive us for having dared to disturb you. Only it is an urgent affair. Allow us to speak with you Pyotr Arsenievich,” one of the workers implored.

Smirnov jumped up, alarmed. “What's the matter? Speak.”

“They are beating our boys, Pyotr Arsenievich. On the cross, [I swear] we won't manage without help. The [opposing team] has formed a strong wall while our strong men are working at the factory trying to fulfill an urgent order. There are three times as many of them as us.”