The Sonata of Sleep wasn't a musical composition. Instead it was a building designed (but never built) in the 1930s by Soviet architect Konstantin Melnikov. He envisioned it as a place where Soviet workers could enjoy scientifically-enhanced sleep. Details from Cabinet magazine:
“Without sleep,” Melnikov argued, “fresh air will do little for our health.” He devised a building in which hundreds of workers could partake of its benefits at the same time. Named “Sonata of Sleep”—a pun on son, the Russian word for sleep or dream—the building consisted of two large dormitories either side of a central block containing washrooms. The dormitories had sloping floors, to obviate the need for pillows, and the beds were to be built-in “like laboratory tables,” in the words of Frederick Starr, author of the standard monograph on Melnikov. Starr goes on to describe the further pains Melnikov took over the ambiance:
At either end of the long buildings were to be situated control booths, where technicians would command instruments to regulate the temperature, humidity, and air pressure, as well as to waft salubrious scents and “rarefied condensed air” through the halls. Nor would sound be left unorganized. Specialists working “according to scientific facts” would transmit from the control centre a range of sounds gauged to intensify the process of slumber. The rustle of leaves, the cooing of nightingales, or the soft murmur of waves would instantly relax the most overwrought veteran of the metropolis. Should these fail, the mechanized beds would then begin gently to rock until consciousness was lost.
Model of Melnikov's Sonata of Sleep image source: interwoven
The Aerowagon or Aeromotowagon (Russian: Аэроваго́н, аэродрези́на, romanized: aerovagon, aerodrezyna) was an experimental high-speed railcar fitted with an aircraft engine and propeller traction invented by Valerian Abakovsky, a Soviet engineer from Latvia. It produced speeds of up to 140 kilometres per hour (87 miles per hour).[1] The Aerowagon was originally intended for the express transportation of important documents, and to carry Soviet officials on government business.[2]
In his book Koba the Dread Martin Amis told the anecdote of "a gramophone record of one of Stalin's longer speeches" which "ran to eight sides, or rather seven, because the eighth consisted entirely of applause."
Amis offered no more details than this. However, the Nizhny Tagil Museum of Regional History has some more info. It seems that what Amis was referring to was a recording of a speech Stalin gave on Nov 25, 1936 at the Extraordinary VIII All-Union Congress of Soviets. The full speech was reproduced in a 21-record set. According to the museum (with translation help from Google):
The speech of the speakers is quite often interrupted by applause. The expression "stormy and prolonged applause', which has already become a byword, is far from being just a beautiful "figure of speech" designed to emphasize the significance of the speaker's words, but the real practice of public speaking at that time.
So the first side of the first disc is completely occupied by the applause of the hall, as a true confirmation of universal approval! Just imagine how in the labor collective they put a record on the gramophone and listen to pure ovations for three minutes! And the second side of the last disc - post-speech ovations and the performance of the Internationale by the participants of the Congress, which at that time played the role of the anthem of the USSR.
In 1990, 23-year-old Katya Mayorova was crowned 'Miss KGB'. It was part of an effort to put a softer face on the intelligence service. It doesn't seem that there was a competition to select the winner. Mayorova was simply selected by a secret process. As far as I know, she was the only one to ever hold the title.
The first prison beauty pageant in Siberia took place in 2000, the brainchild of an inmate. It began simply, with costumes created from everyday objects such as plastic bags and fake flowers. These days, the women work together for months before the pageant, which is hardly the competitive, individualistic event implied by the word "contest.". . .
As a woman who grew up in the sixties, I used to consider endorsing any sort of beauty contest inconceivable—but that was before I saw two short documentaries about the pageants at Camp UF-91/9, The Contest, produced by the Polish journalist Zygmunt Dzieciolowski, and Miss Gulag, produced by Neihausen-Yatskova and Vodar Films. They show the contenders taking the runway by storm, cheered on by their peers, in a parody of the stale rigidity and lack of sexuality of traditional pageants. . .
Beauty pageants are now widespread in Russian prisons. Make up, gifts for the unit, and credits toward early release are the prizes.
Paul Di Filippo
Paul has been paid to put weird ideas into fictional form for over thirty years, in his career as a noted science fiction writer. He has recently begun blogging on many curious topics with three fellow writers at The Inferior 4+1.