Soviet Union Give Us Our Daily Bread

By JOHN KOHAN MOSCOW

The Molodezhny milk store in the Frunze District of northwest Moscow used to be famous for its dairy products. Nowadays, almost no customers are seen there during peak afternoon shopping hours. No wonder. Refrigerator cases offer bottles of a sour apple-grape drink instead of butter and cheese. In a touch of the absurd, otherwise barren shelves display seltzer-water dispensers and brightly colored plastic Little Drummer Rabbit dolls, presumably for toddlers who will have to do without fresh milk.

Molodezhny, at least, has something to sell. Some shops open at 8 a.m. but close by lunchtime, when the day's allotment of food is gone. Other state-run outlets are closed indefinitely for "renovations."

A headline last week on the front page of Pravda, the Communist Party daily, posed the question haunting all Soviet consumers as they prepare for the coming winter: ARE WE THREATENED WITH HUNGER? President Mikhail Gorbachev has roundly dismissed what he calls "conjectures of a coming famine." In industrial centers like Leningrad, however, local authorities plan to introduce wide-scale rationing to avert the worst consumer shortages since the end of World War II.

Soviet cows are still giving milk and chickens are still laying eggs, as they always have, with or without orders from the Kremlin. The great scandal is how these products are disappearing on the way to the store. Much of the blame rests with an antiquated state distribution system. Other reasons Soviet cupboards are suddenly bare:

THE FUMBLING CENTER. There is little confidence outside Moscow that the central government can mend the economy. A decision this year to increase the price the state will pay for grain and meat has not led to more production. Farmers, who have no incentive to accumulate more worthless rubles, have even taken land out of cultivation. Agricultural markets have also been disrupted by government schemes that allow producers of some products to make deals directly with buyers. In parts of the Ukraine, peasants waiting for a better price have turned over only 5% of the grain harvest to the state.

REGIONAL SEPARATISM. Calls from republics and regions for greater political sovereignty have caused economic protectionism and strangled supply lines. The balance sheet at Moscow's No. 14 meat-packing plant tells the story. So far this year, the factory has received only 410 tons of meat, well short of the planned 2,920 tons. The Belorussians have sent 120 tons instead of 970. Nothing has come from Kazakhstan, Latvia or Lithuania. During the past nine months, the agricultural regions around Sverdlovsk have held back one-third of their scheduled deliveries of produce and sold the products on local markets.

PROFITEERING. While state-run stores are empty, the country's free farmers' markets offer an abundance of everything from mandarin oranges and pickled garlic to sunflower oil. Prices, though, are staggering. The average annual income of Soviets is only 250 rubles, and so few can afford the luxury of tomatoes at 10 rubles for about two pounds, or beef at 30 rubles a cut. Peasants gripe that free markets in Moscow are under the control of black- marketeering middlemen from the Caucasian republics who are deliberately limiting supplies to keep prices high. Managers of state-run shops also hold back scarce goods from open sale and make a hefty profit by selling them out the back door.

HOARDING. Stores have been battered in recent weeks by waves of panic buying ; that have periodically cleaned shelves of sugar, milk, flour, matches and other staples. As a Moscow housewife sheepishly confesses, "My kitchen is loaded with cereals, and my bathroom is piled with soap. I can barely turn around in my apartment." The hysteria often reflects fears about the future, but it creates immediate problems.

Gorbachev hopes he can cure the food crisis with a combination of strong presidential leadership and help from abroad. He privately approached Western leaders at last week's Paris summit conference with a grocery list that included such staples as pork, butter and powdered milk. The Supreme Soviet has given Gorbachev two weeks to prepare emergency measures to ensure that the state receives ample supplies of food from producers. Meanwhile, grumbling consumers have no choice but to continue playing the grim new national sport: scavenger hunting.