Sunday May 12, 1985

Tom and Claire take us to airport (LAX). Meet Dennis Weaver and his wife Gerrie. As we're talking, Greg H. comes up and introduces himself to Dennis and explains that he has not been able to get it together so the film will not be happening. (He and Rae A., a Hollywood producer, had been trying to put together a documentary film about the trip to be used to spread the message -- I had had some misgivings about the idea of the film in the first place, not knowing these people and how good they were, so I wasn't at all displeased to learn in a phone conversation with Ron Mann a few nights earlier that it probably wouldn't be happening -- evidently Dennis had not been told before this. Dennis is not pleased as he had put himself on the line with a number of people about the trip and in particular about the film, which was being hyped as “the first Soviet-American co-production”, and now found himself in the uncomfortable position of having to explain it away. Not an auspicious beginning, it seems to me. I certainly don't understand why they hadn't let Dennis know about the difficulties to offset just this possibility, but I don't know any of these people and it isn't my show, so I'll just sit back and see what develops. As we are about to board, Shelley and I remember that we had forgotten to get toilet paper. (It had been recommended to us by a number of people as the Soviet paper, when it is available at all, is supposed to be worse than you used to get in Europe.) Oh well, we'll rough it.

After we've said our goodbyes and gotten settled in the plane, one of the other delegates comes dashing in at the last minute and hands us a roll of toilet paper from one of the rest rooms at the airport, saying “This is from Tom and Claire.”

Arrive Seattle about 5:30 PM. Tickets and boarding passes at the Finnair counter won't be available ‘til 7 PM so we grab a cab and head for a local store, hoping to find a transformer, which we had also forgotten. (Needed it to convert Soviet electricity to compatibility with ours for Shelley's hair dryer and curlers.) Since it's Sunday (and Mother's Day) not much is open so we return to the airport with 2 bananas and eight rolls of toilet paper. No transformer.

Check in – nice woman knows MASH so gets us seats in business class. Move carry-on stuff to gate (through subway system not unlike the one in Atlanta ) and it's now 7:30 PM. Tickets say plane leaves at 9:50 and we don't know any of the gathering crowd, so we decide to grab another cab into Seattle to find a health food restaurant. Two guys from the trip ask to come along (Tom, a very ESTian “photo-journalist” straight out of Tennessee Williams, and a young, bouncy doctor – Oncologist – named Mark.)

Cab to Seattle looking for Julie's 14 Carrot Café. Closed. Cabbie recommends a place close by called the Lake Union Café, so we try that. Very nice place (but they make too much of a celebrity thing out of my being there – a bit embarrassing when you're with people you don't know.) Dinner is pretty good and they get us out of there in a hurry so we have plenty of time. Get to know Tom and Mark a little and head for the airport. Stroll casually into the front door near the ticket counter at about 9:10 or 9:15 – plenty of time – and the guy at the ticket counter comes running out and yells “Mr. Farrell, the plane is leaving! It's gone!!” “It's gone??!!” (How the hell could that be?) Then he says, “They're holding it at the gate!” and off we race. “Call them”, I holler, as we run down the escalator and head for the subway. (How the hell could that be?!) Sure as hell, as we race up the stairs, the same nice woman who got us the business class seats is there, saying “It's OK, we held it for you.” (Seems our tickets were printed wrong, the departure time was supposed to be 9:10.) So down the ramp we clatter (they had already loaded our carry-ons and everything) and make a very dramatic entrance. (Kind of exciting on the one hand. I've never had a plane held for me before. On the other hand, it's embarrassing as shit!)

Anyway, we settle in. Find ourselves right behind the Weavers, so we have a chance to get a little more acquainted. Lots of people are curious as to what happened – why we were late – I'm sure some of them are doing the “Who do they think they are?” number – but all I can do is show them the ticket. Ron Mann (the psychologist who is the main organizer of the whole project – a very, very laid back guy [so benign you don't exactly know if he's real about it] with a soft voice and pale blue eyes) asks if our tickets had the wrong time on them. I say they did and apologize for the delay (even though it wasn't my fault) and he just says, “No problem.”

The sun had set as we were driving toward the airport, so the sky is just barely light in the West as we take off. I guess it gets dark for a short time, but not for long. Over-the-pole route doesn't give you much in the way of nighttime and you can see the sun coming up before dinner is served. Weird. Pleasant service on Finnair. Lousy sleeping in the seats.

Land in Finland at 4:30 PM their time (about 6:30 AM at home) with that cotton-mouthed, gravel-eyed feeling. We get bags and say a couple of hellos to some of our co-delegates. Some of the folks seem to know each other well. It's hard to tell if we're the only outsiders. Shel introduces me to Diana and Paul, a striking-looking pair. He's tall, salt and pepper hair, neatly trimmed beard, cultured voice; she's fairly tall as well, dark, short hair, looks a bit like Barbara Rush (as Shelley points out). They are authors of cook-books. (Don't ask me what that has to do with being on this delegation – but then, what does being an actor have to do with anything?)

Get bags together and move out (not even a cursory customs check) toward buses. Dennis is greeted by the press and a number of fans. Evidently McCloud is quite popular here.

It's hot. We're told it's the first spring day. Sitting in the bus for quite a while is awful, so I go around the back and play Hacky-Sack for a bit, to get the kinks out. (Hacky-Sack, a popular sport at the time, involves keeping a little bean-bag made to look like a soccer ball in the air without using the hands. Keeping it aloft with feet, knees, shoulders, head, etc., is the idea, and juggling it between two people or more is a lot of fun, plus good exercise.)

Off to Haiko Hotel. Finnish countryside looks a lot like Minnesota or Michigan (someone else says Ohio ). Lots of trees (look like birch) and farmland. Wooden houses and barns (almost all have ladders up the sides that continue up to the peak of the roof. (Testament, I would guess, to the depth of the snow here in winter)). Guide tells us about the “White Nights” during the spring and summer months when there is almost no nighttime as we know it. Must be strange. The other half of the year, she says, can be very depressing.

Haiko Hotel is in a beautiful setting among the rolling hills, amid the trees on the coast of the Baltic Sea . (Though you don't get much of a vista as this is some sort of inlet, rather than the open sea.) Seem to be friendly people. Two official languages, Finnish and Swedish. Country has a history of being ruled alternately by Sweden and Russia . Country is known by Finns as Suomi.

Hotel has two parts – old Manor House with some rooms and the dining facilities – new hotel with pool, sauna, etc. We're in the hotel – best described as utilitarian. Clean, spare. Plastic toilet seats, beds are essentially cots built-in, no wash-cloths (though you find that to be the case in a lot of countries), the shower is a water-gun on a tube that runs from the tub tap. Oh, how good we have it at home!

Shel stretches out for “just a second”. Poor thing slept not much on the plane and is out like a light. I take a bit of a walk down by the lake/sea and kick the hacky-sack some more. Walk and look around. Pretty place. It's strange to have people stroll by speaking a foreign tongue. It's hard to believe we're actually here.

Flutter of wings above and I watch a bird chase another off a limb. Stand and watch for a while and see a knothole which the bird (must be a momma) is guarding. Pretty soon she sticks her head inside the hole. As I watch, she disappears entirely. The old bird-eating tree trick.

Go get Shel up and walk down to the Manor for dinner. It's a large, splendid old place with a lot of wood, high ceilings and a sense of history about it.

Name tags are passed out. Shelley is spelled Shelly, natch. Also get our visas and then sit at one of a number of long tables with some of the group to have dinner and “get to know one another.” Shel, on my left, is talking to a guy across and at the end named Jim, who is a sort of type-type who talks an awful lot about “Unconditional Love”. He has designed a button with a logo that he says means “unconditional love” and is passing them around for us to give out on the trip (give me a break!). He has also designed one that's supposed to mean “I Love” in Russian. He has those for us too (cringe). Across from Shel is Dulcie, a make-up woman. She seems OK. Across from me is Doris, a “spiritual counselor” – God talks through her, she doesn't know where the information comes from. Next to her is a youngish man who is an ND (Naturopathic Doctor). He seems bright, sturdy and sincere. There is a young woman next to him and I don't hear much from her. Across from her (end of table on my right) is a woman in her 60's or 70's who is a Freudian psychoanalyst. Born in Russia , speaks the language fluently. Her name is Nina – says don't drink the water in Leningrad , don't use it to brush your teeth and don't even use it to wash your face (What does one do, I wonder?). She seems tough. Maybe that's my fear of shrinks or an anti-Freudian bias. Next to her (between us) is Angeline (not pronounced ine or een, but in – An-gel-in)(All together now.) Same age as Nina, maybe older. Says she talked to the Raj Neesh girl on the plane who says Armageddon is on its way, inevitable. Says Barbara Marx Hubbard (also on trip. A “futurist” who ran for vice-president and had her name put into nomination at the Democratic Convention. Talks about fact that we are at “the next step of evolution”, “higher consciousness”, friend of Buckminster Fuller) says it'll never happen. What do I think? (Huh?) Later she talks about Osteopaths. Says they are the greatest. Describes a healing she knows of personally that was nearly miraculous. Naturopath (whose name is Bill) listens silently, as does Nina. At the end of the discussion, Bill says he'd like to talk to her more about it. Seems nice.

The Spiritual Counselor says she wasn't planning on coming on the trip. A friend asked her to come to the press conference. “What happened there?” “I don't know,” she says, “I just couldn't stop crying.” “About what?” “All that love.” (that's what she said, I swear it) About the tour, she said, “We are a love bomb.” Said it twice as a matter of fact.

Now I'm trying hard to be straight, open and not cynical. This isn't making it any easier.

On my left Shel is telling these folks about how we met and got together. Some career talk. She's amazing. Someone talks for a bit about how much warmth she radiates. (Well, obviously these people do have some sensitivity).

Walking back to the room we talk about what we've gotten into. She says that at different times she knew if we made eye contact it was all over.

Dinner wasn't bad. Spare. Vegetarian menu offered. I took. Home-made beer offered which I didn't. Veal (I think) also offered. Shel took both (Pig). Didn't finish (tsk tsk)

9 PM is a “Plenary Meeting” (What the hell is that?) One of the guys we saw at dinner – long hair, baggy pants, funny hat – looked sort of like a hippie/clown – name is Patch – greets all at door to the meeting room wearing a big rubber nose (!!?). We sit and hear from Ron Mann and a woman named Rama, who is our other leader. (She is a yoga teacher and self-professed grandmother. She looks young and good so I suspect that's why she tells everyone she's a grandmother). They introduce the staff and talk for a while about this tour being “a year in the making” and that “the schedule is in transition” (which means don't blame us for the fuck-ups) and a lot about “be open” or keep “an open heart”.

Group seems to be made up primarily of Unity Church people, some yoga people (which may be the same thing, I don't know) and some sort of “New Age” psychology organization. (What are we doing here?) Be open.

After talk about tomorrow's schedule (starting with a 6 AM meditation session – which I'll manage to miss) our itinerant troubador from dinner and a woman who sat across from him sing a song about spreading seeds of love and freedom and crap like that. His voice and style is OK, her voice is terrific.

All of this stuff on all these people's part seems to be well intended if a bit presumptuous, forced and over-sincere. (But then, maybe it's because we're new to it.)

Patricia (big blonde woman, looks like she stepped out of a milk-maid ad or out of a fjord somewhere – great big smile) is introduced. She is a healer (a lot of these people seem to be) and talks about how much energy she creates around her and then she creates some energy. (Process involves closing our eyes and “letting go”) Then she asked if anyone didn't “get it”. Says “Come on now, be honest.” Woman in front raises her hand (brave thing to do). Patricia says “Good for you!” and asks her what happened. Woman says she just “got sleepy”. Patricia says that's the way it works sometimes. (Well, then it sure worked for me.) She then has us all close our eyes while she leads a quick-fix-meditation and makes some sounds that, she says, link the right and left brain. The sounds (kind of an ooooooo) go on for quite a while. I sure go somewhere.

Interesting that in an individual one-on-one some of these folks might be very neat, interesting and easier to take.

After some more talk a pile of “very special” crystals, which have been prayed over and blessed and filled with all sorts of good vibes, are put out on a table and we're asked to line up and file by the table and take one (whichever one feels right – make a heart connection) to take into Russia and give to someone you feel moved to give it to. The whole thing has a very religiously ritualistic flavor to it.

So to bed.

Tuesday May 14

Up at 6:30. Walk out the kinks. Breakfast at 8:30. Good. Patch is there, his nose in place wearing another outlandish get-up. What his story is, we don't know, but if some of these people are space cadets this guy is on Jupiter.

Heard one of the people talking about having been aboard a nuclear sub when he was 21 – now probably in his 40's. Said the experience of being there (off the coast of the Soviet Union) and told they would be ordered to fire only if the US had been attacked left him feeling rootless and helpless. Said, “What would be the use? We'd have no homes to go back to?”

9:30 Press conference is cancelled. Again. (Supposed to be last night.) We walked a bit this AM with Dennis and Gerrie Weaver. As it turns out, they don't know much more about the group than we do. They seem to be very sweet, simple people. I know he's involved with meditation and the Self Realization Fellowship church (he's listed in some of the literature for the tour as a minister, I think). Gerrie says she's worried that the whole tour will fall apart because it's so flaky and indefinite. She tells us that Patch, the clown, is in fact a doctor who treats bulimics and others through laughter. (I haven't laughed yet.)

10 AM meeting opens with another offering from the troubadour and the woman (whose name is Fern – has the voice of an angel). Still feels pushed to me, though many obviously don't agree. Maybe some of them are just going along. We'll see. (The fact that most of them seem to know the song tells me something.)

Rama says we'll start off with some comedy – from guess who? She goes on to tell that during pre-trip negotiations with Soviets she had to ask for their permission to have Patch put on his gorilla suit and run around Red Square . Guy on other end of negotiations said he'd be shot. (Turns out that was the idea of the moviemaker. I also heard another of his bright ideas, that Shelley and I repeat our marriage vows in Red Square . Seems to be better and better that the movie didn't work out – they'd have one dead hustler on their hands by now.)

Patch turns out to be a delight. He goes around giving lectures on “How to be a nutty doctor”. He's trying to raise money for a free hospital in D.C. Uses his home now. He and Linda, his wife (bright, pretty, seems very straight), have patients and their families live in their house with them and don't charge anyone for anything. Sort of a communal affair where people do chores or bring food or whatever as payment. He does a wonderfully nutty few minutes and then tops it off with a take-off on the crystal number last night that endears him to me forever. Puts a pile of rubber noses on the same table and asks people to come up and get them (“just take one that you have a nose connection with”) and says they should use a funny walk when they do. Great!!

Next we meet Boyd, a sharp, entrepreneur/hustler who is the controlling force behind the Day Runner & Running Mate, appointment book/personal organizer things. (Shel says they are very good and very popular.) Boyd's rap is that “Personal power and information are the two things which, if taken away from an individual, produce paranoia, weakness and insecurity”. The organizer fixes that. His company had a bunch made up for this trip in Russian – one for each of us to distribute “to our counterpart”. Looks to be an impressive book. Boyd goes on – the ability to “take notes relieves the pressure of having to remember. Once freed of the need to remember, the mind is open to inspiration.”

Boyd sounds very EST – even looks very EST – runs down his success story. He then introduces his Communications Facilitator, Dino (the guy who brought the toilet paper onto the plane from Tom and Claire). Dino turns the meeting into an EST session, expressing his feelings about the cancellation of the film and encouraging/bullying everyone else to get “clear” about it. It's presumptuous as hell, it seems to me, but, again, this isn't my show and maybe this is the way Ron Mann wants it to be. With Dino's encouragement, lots of stuff comes up from different members of the group about “taking personal responsibility” for getting out the word in view of the loss of the film. As is always the case in these kinds of sessions wherein people “share” their feelings, some of it is incredibly self-indulgent bullshit, some thoughtful, heartfelt concern, some silly games. One woman, Gretchen (a singer) spent a lot of time in woeful self-indulgence, going all over the place (she's clearly not in good emotional shape) and finally getting to the point of singing her “hit” – “Come Softly to Me.” It was incredible. And incredibly sad. (Shel passed me a note, saying, “Don't you just wish Bonnie [our friend] were here to hear this?”)

Upshot of the whole process, it seems to me, is to underscore the naivete of the group, their desire/need for this whole thing to be OK, and the inefficiency (despite the good intentions) of the leadership.

Lunch is in a different, smaller dining room in the Manor. Sat with the spiritual advisor again, also three other women, two older, one younger, who are all shrinks. One, mother of six, interior designer, was inspired by a therapist, went back to school and changed her career. Now working with a Jungian sand-sculpturing technique that sounds interesting.

Younger woman therapist works, she says, mostly with airline employees.

Bus to Helsinki . Stop at a beautiful Rock Church , built into the side of a hill. Very impressive natural stone walls. Low key, very little religious décor, simple altar. 800 Seat capacity. A lot of copper (organ pipes, ceiling) to offset the stone. Very neat. Have a sort of service for just our group. Interesting.

Two young people get up and lead (after teaching us a song) a round. He is an officious type. Sort of a cross between an ex-Peace Corps volunteer and Nazi Youth. Something about his manner sets my teeth on edge. Name is Peter. The woman is a Swami (I didn't even know there were women swamis – what do I know) who is American born, has red hair and is never without her caste mark and her sari, or whatever you call that dress thing.

Then Swami Sachidananda, who I think of as a real swami and who just joined us this AM, gets up and leads us in some mantra stuff. (God, the things I'm gonna know when I get back from this trip!) His thing is pretty much OK too, there is just an awful lot of “being holy” associated with this trip.

Interesting note – Patricia's name was on the schedule to do her thing here, too, but because of time constraints (some of the more worldly of us wanted to walk around Helsinki and maybe even shop a little) Ron Mann talked to her and although I didn't hear the words it appeared that he was suggesting she do her routine another time and place. Anyway, after the Swami was done, Lori (one of the staff) got up and suggested that we split, it was over. Some of us started toward the rear of the church and then Patricia got up in front and let it be known that she wanted to do her number. Some, of course, said, “Oh yes! Do!” So back everyone went and she did her sounds again to heal us or connect our right and left brains or whatever. I couldn't help but feel that we were being treated to a little display of spiritual egotism, or at least a bit of a turf struggle. (Now, in fairness, I could have just kept walking, but I was afraid someone would turn me into a pillar of salt.) So Patricia did her sounds and I'm afraid that in spite of the smiles and the good grace and the warmth and charm it seemed a bit self-involved to me.

Now, naturally, when she finished her stuff and before any of us could move, another voice is raised in song. Praise the Lord! It's Gretchen (Miss “Come Softly”) who now has to get into the act. Lordy, Lordy how the spirit does move some of these folk! (Interesting to see the ego contests set up in this situation.) When she finally finished (it was a long one) we went outside.

The bus was set to take us to the Presidenti Hotel and from there we were free ‘til 5 PM. Shel and I decided to walk from the church.

Helsinki is a sort of drab city. Not much color. We bought an ice cream cone and fed some pigeons and did some people-watching after trying unsuccessfully to find a converter here. We get back to the Presidenti before a lot of them, so while waiting we have a chance to talk to Patch and his wife. Very interesting people. Talked a lot about medical ethics and why they made the choice they did. His hopes and dreams. Seems to be a good guy, if a bit bizarre, with his clothes and nose attracting stares from everyone.

Bus takes us to pier and we board a harbor boat for a trip to an island where there is an old fortress which has been converted into a restaurant (called Valhalla ). On the boat ride one of the women asked Shel what she thought of the group and if she found any of it off-putting. Shel was pretty straight with her, but in her special way was able to be so and still not offend.

The fort was impressive. Thick walls and battlements. Tunnels. Inside are heavy brick arched walls, deep windows. Very reminiscent of the catacombs. Good meal, too. Sat across from David (young guy, teacher, soft-spoken, looks about 15, thinks of himself as a Peace Pilgrim-type – goes around lecturing and talking to people) who is having physical problems. Seems, in his low-key way, to be a very anxious guy. He and Patch and Linda (Mrs. Patch) ask me about Central America a bit. Another interesting new face has just joined the group. She's a neuro-psychotherapist (works with brain damaged).

Two talks after dinner from people not with the group who are big in the Peace Movement, active in trying to reduce the level of tensions. Man is leader of a movement called (?) Netocis (?) can't think of the word – about bringing together the scientific and spiritual worlds. Group formed by an astronaut who had a psychic/religious experience on the way back from the moon. (Was it Schweichart?) Woman left professional world (was a nurse) and now devotes herself to leading tours of “grass roots diplomats” to the USSR . Spoke of the country and the people with great respect and gave some pretty good tips on what the expect, what to do and not do. (Don't tip, give them some respect, don't push, etc.)

A bit of hacky-sack with a guy from the tour while others are finishing dinner. Back on the boat by 9 PM (sun still bright in the sky). Bus back to hotel and to bed.

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