The Picnic

Gold-crested invitations from the Soviet Foreign Ministry went out to Moscow's foreign diplomats and newsmen one day last week, calling them and their families to a huge picnic party. A picnic! There had never been anything like this in the ten years of cold war, or, for that matter, in the 37 years of Communist rule.

A printed map, accompanying each invitation, showed the way to the picnic ground, a 280-acre government estate some 60 miles from Moscow, once the property of Count Orlov, a favorite of Catherine the Great. Here, behind a high board fence topped with barbed wire and guarded by soldiers, the Soviet leadership was in line to welcome the guests.

Smiling with goateed charm, Premier Bulganin shook hands with them all. He kissed a little girl, and beckoned the guests to wander at large through cool woods and beside ornamental lakes, photographing whatever they desired. He himself helped U.S. Ambassador Charles Bohlen's daughter catch three fish, and he played with Italian Ambassador Di Stefano's ten-year-old son. Lunch was served under a canvas canopy in the open air. A military band played and a Red army bugler called the guests to table.

Two Toasts. The Soviet leaders sat together, Bulganin in the center, Khrushchev on his left and Molotov on his right. Then at three long tables sat about 150 diplomats and Russian guests, with separate tables for press and children. The sumptuous, eight-course meal was served by more than a hundred waiters and serving girls, who came in long lines through a grove of pine trees bearing

14 heaped trays. Although countless bottles of Soviet champagne, wines and vodka were provided, the Soviet leaders themselves were cautious about drinking. Only two major toasts were given: one by Bulganin, and one in reply by the acting dean of the Foreign Diplomatic Corps, Burmese Ambassador Maung Ohn. But the day's gaiety had just begun.

After lunch, Bulganin packed a crowd of diplomats, reporters and children into Zis limousines and took them off to see a deer park while pudgy Party Boss Khrushchev went out into a berry patch to pick raspberries with Defense Minister Zhukov. Down by the lake shore a memorable tableau formed. Ex-Premier Georgy Malenkov now acted as a glorified cruise director. He directed Admiral Sergei Gorshkov to pilot British Charge d'Affaires C. C. Parrott and his wife around the lake in a motorboat. The admiral almost ran down a rowboat in which Mikoyan was rowing Mrs. Bohlen. ("Mikoyan is an old sailor, and he is reliable in all respects," Khrushchev had assured Mrs. Bohlen.) U.S. Ambassador Bohlen then challenged Mikoyan to a rowing race, and when Bohlen won, Bulganin and other Soviet officials hooted Mikoyan.

Molotov Blushes. Molotov, getting into the act, took the Argentine ambassador and the Indonesian ambassador's wife out in another rowboat, but upset the boat when trying to beach it, and soaked everybody. "Molotov, you are a terrible sailor," said Defense Minister Zhukov, laughing heartily. "One should ride with you around the edge of the lake, not in the middle."

The unathletic Molotov blushed as the other guests laughed. But then, ever the practiced diplomat, he remembered the demands of the day, and got happy. Later, Mikoyan danced an Armenian folk dance in the center of a group of singing diplomats and Russians, led by Bolshoi Theater stars. Molotov and Khrushchev sang old Russian folk songs, and First Deputy Premier Kaganovich got so emotional over a song called I Met You that he had to wipe the tears from his eyes.

In case there should be any doubt in diplomatic minds about the reason for the frolicsome celebration, from time to time Soviet leaders dropped loaded remarks about their happiness over the way the new atmosphere was working out. "What a day!" exclaimed U.S. Ambassador Bohlen, as he drove home with his wife and daughter, and indeed it had been.

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