Was this the truth or invention? If Frederick was trying to persuade the diplomats that he was a loyal American despite having lived abroad for twenty-five years, what good could it have done him to make up an aborted trip to San Francisco with a stop in the Philippines (which had recently become an American colony)? As it happens, there is evidence pointing in the opposite direction. Frederick had family ties to Berlin through his wife. It is possible that he moved there temporarily to escape the violence in Moscow; it is also possible that he went there to open a restaurant. However, after World War I, with Germany defeated and widely reviled, it would not have been in Frederick’s interests to acknowledge any connections to that country, especially when dealing with American officials. Nevertheless, judging by the fragmentary evidence available, Berlin is the more likely version.
Although Aquarium had survived serious damage, Aumont had been frightened by the violence and destruction he witnessed during the revolution. His self-indulgent business practices also caught up to him, and by early 1907 bankruptcy was looming. Aumont decided to escape to France (he stole his employees’ money when he left), and Aquarium fell on hard times for a number of years.
Frederick needed a new job, and the next one he got marked his emergence into the topmost ranks of his profession. Among Moscow’s many celebrated restaurants, one stood out because of its age—it dated from the beginning of the nineteenth century—and its fame. Yar Restaurant, or simply Yar, as Muscovites called it, was considered by many connoisseurs to be the finest in Russia and one of the best in all of Europe. Jobs in Yar were coveted by waiters not only because of its prestige but because of the generosity of many of its famous and wealthy clients. That Frederick became a maître d’hôtel there, probably starting in 1908 if not before, is testimony to how far he had come in Russia. By then he had probably already developed his glib, if often grammatically flawed, command of spoken Russian. His French would have been useful with some patrons, but he would need to communicate readily in Russian with most of the others as well as his employer and the restaurant’s staff.
Yar was located on the northwestern edge of Moscow. To be near his new job Frederick moved his family from the calm of Chukhinsky Lane to 18 Petersburg Highway, which was the main road to the imperial capital about 350 miles to the northwest. Although two miles farther out from the city center than Frederick’s old neighborhood near Aquarium, Yar was well situated in terms of attracting clients. Directly across the highway, on the edge of Khodynka Field (where over a thousand people had been trampled to death during a celebration commemorating the 1896 coronation of Nicholas II, a tragedy that many took as a bad omen for his reign), were the Moscow racetrack and the airport of the Moscow Society of Aeronautics. During the early years of the twentieth century, airplanes were a new craze in Russia, as they were elsewhere around the world. Muscovites saw their first airplane on September 15, 1909, when the French aviator Legagneux demonstrated his Voisin biplane at Khodynka Field. Thousands thrilled at the sight, and spectators flocked in ever-increasing numbers to subsequent displays of aerial acrobatics. Yar was happy to provide champagne and other potables to celebrate exhibitions of hair-raising stunts by the spindly aircraft, as well as to mourn the victims of their disastrous crashes.
When Frederick began to work at Yar the owner was Aleksey Akimovich Sudakov, who had bought the restaurant in 1896 and nurtured it to its great success and fame over the next twenty years. Sudakov was an absolute perfectionist and would not have given Frederick a visible and responsible position without being certain of his professionalism and polish. Despite the obvious differences between them, there are also several striking parallels between Frederick’s life path and Sudakov’s. Sudakov was born a peasant in Yaroslavl province and went through a demanding apprenticeship as a lowly assistant waiter before becoming a manager and finally buying a small restaurant of his own. This background is not unlike Frederick’s origins in black, rural Mississippi and his work in big city restaurants and hotels. Both men succeeded only because of their own talents and because they had learned all aspects of the restaurant and entertainment business from the ground up.
But it was not only Sudakov who could serve as a mentor—there also was Aleksey Fyodorovich Natruskin, the “king” of Yar’s staff, as Sudakov himself described him. Natruskin was the senior maître d’hôtel when Frederick worked there and had held this position without interruption for thirty years. As such, he was Frederick’s immediate superior and would have played a role in honing his already advanced skills, either actively or by example. Well known to several generations of Yar’s loyal customers, Natruskin was much admired and respected by them for his ability to balance his dignified manner with the utmost attention to their desires and tastes, a combination that they found very flattering (and that many later remembered as Frederick’s salient traits as well). Natruskin’s calculated skills were well rewarded by the clients he charmed and made feel at home. Visiting grand dukes gave him jeweled gifts as mementos while businessmen and others tipped him lavishly in cash. By the time he retired, he had saved 200,000 rubles, the equivalent of several million dollars in today’s money, which he used to buy an investment property in Moscow. There was much in his life and career that Frederick would imitate; there was also much in it that he would surpass.
As might be expected in view of Frederick’s success in working with such exacting colleagues, the relations among them were rooted not only in pragmatic considerations but also in mutual respect and even affection. There is evidence for this in the grandest event in Yar’s twentieth-century history—an event that Frederick helped orchestrate—the celebration on December 19, 1909, of Yar’s reopening following a major reconstruction. The day was filled with many remarkable tributes to Sudakov, and Frederick joined the five other senior employees in composing and signing a memorable one of their own (in Russian, of course). Identifying themselves as Sudakov’s “closest assistants and collaborators,” they proclaimed that they “saluted” him as “an energetic and conscientious proprietor” and “bowed down” to him as “a person of rare humanity.” They assured him of their “genuine affection,” not only because of his “skillful management,” but also because of his “sensitive soul, which responds to all that is honest and good.” They concluded their tribute by wishing Sudakov “Many Years” (“Mnogaya Leta”), which is actually the name of a Russian Orthodox hymn asking God to grant the celebrant a long life. Proclaiming the hymn’s title at the end of congratulatory remarks such as these would traditionally serve as the prompt for singing it, and the six signers of the address almost certainly did so, together with many of the others present.
To Western eyes and ears it might seem odd that a famous restaurant’s reopening would be accompanied by an expression of religious faith. After all, Yar was a place where people went to overindulge in food and drink, and to have their passions stirred by Gypsy choirs and comely chorus girls. But a prayer service in a place like this was entirely in keeping with Russian norms of the time and demonstrates the extent to which religious rituals and beliefs penetrated all aspects of social life, and at all levels of society (even though there was always a minority that complained about the unseemliness of such mixing). The service in Yar also illustrates the easy coexistence of transgression and forgiveness in the Russian consciousness—not as hypocrisy but in the sense that contrition would always be able to expiate sin, and the passions, if properly guided, could lead to spiritual salvation. In later years, one of Yar’s most notorious fans, the sinister religious mountebank Rasputin, would become a visible emblem of this duality.
What was Frederick like at his job? Fred Gaisberg of the American Gramophone Company saw him in action a number of times at Yar and was struck by his sophistication and charm. Gaisberg came to Moscow to persuade the internationally celebrated Russian operatic bass Fyodor Chaliapin to sign a long-term recording contract. What impressed Gaisberg was not only that Frederick knew “every nobleman and plutocrat in Moscow” bu
t how “he was always perfectly dressed and would personally welcome his patrons with a calculating eye in the vestibule.” Frederick’s skill at figuring out quickly where the client stood on the ladder of celebrity and how much money he was likely to spend, and remembering what food and drink he had enjoyed during previous visits—all of which required an unusually retentive memory and a knowledge of people—was one of the reasons he had proved exceptionally successful at Yar. The other was that he was very accommodating, and Gaisberg underscored that Frederick “was a general favourite everywhere, especially amongst the ladies, who made a pet of him.” Moreover, implying that Frederick at Yar, like his peers in other famous Russian establishments, had set new standards for memorable hospitality, Gaisberg concluded that “Paris, Berlin, Vienna, Budapest—none of them could compare in my opinion with St. Petersburg and Moscow if one wanted carefree night life.”
A maître d’hôtel’s skills would be exercised routinely in any good restaurant that attracted a well-heeled clientele, but at Yar there were times when such skills were challenged and pushed to the limit. One reason was Moscow’s cultural norms, especially among some of the rich and successful members of its merchant class, who valued the ability to demonstrate bravado or unbridled passion in a way that would make people notice and remember their Russian “broad nature.” The other was the reputation Yar acquired as a favorite destination for especially extravagant sprees. The result was some truly memorable escapades. An American writer, Roy Norton, visited Yar around 1911, when Frederick was still working there. Although Norton had already spent some time in Europe studying the behavior of “spendthrifts” in various countries, he quickly concluded that Russians were by far the most extravagant, and that Yar was the place in Moscow where one could see them at their best. Norton was especially impressed by one such reveler who decided that it would be fun to play football in the dining room with hothouse pineapples, which were selling in Moscow that winter for around 44 rubles, or $22, each: around $1,000 in today’s money. He ordered a whole cartload and proceeded to kick them all around, smashing china, overturning tables, and spilling imported champagne. His bill from the proprietor, who approached him with a smile, was supposedly 30,000 rubles, or around $750,000 in today’s money. Frederick told Norton that there are “probably an average of fifty bills a month, paid for one evening’s entertainment, that will average seven thousand five hundred rubles each.”
Within a decade of Frederick’s arrival in Russia, his life was looking very bright. He had a lucrative position at a famous restaurant and his family was about to grow once again: Hedwig was expecting their third child. Irma was born on February 24, 1909, and baptized at home on March 31 by a pastor from the Saints Peter and Paul Church. Frederick’s happiness over Irma’s arrival was poisoned, however, by the debilitating effect that her birth apparently had on Hedwig’s health. As the Thomas family’s oral history suggests, Frederick’s subsequent distance from Irma was due to his seeing her as somehow responsible for the loss of his wife, whom he cherished deeply. Irma’s tragic fate and the way she suppressed any recollections of her family past when she grew up also imply that a chasm had developed between her and her father—a situation that darkened her entire childhood and that she was never able to overcome.
There is no direct evidence regarding the nature of Hedwig’s illness after Irma’s birth, although there was much that could have happened to her. Despite improvements in hygiene and the growing use of birthing hospitals in early-twentieth-century Moscow, childbirth was still beset with potential dangers for both the baby and the mother, with puerperal fever leading the way and a troop of other ghastly complications following. Hedwig died of pneumonia, with the additional complication of blood poisoning, on January 17, 1910, at the age of thirty-four, and was buried at the Vvedenskoye Cemetery of Foreign Confessions in Moscow, also known as the “German Cemetery.”
Olga was almost eight when her mother died and thus just old enough to understand some of what this meant. But Mikhail was only three and Irma not yet one, so for them their mother’s death was a confusing and distressing event that they could not fathom; also, they would not remember her. Hedwig’s death was Frederick’s first close personal loss since his father’s murder in Memphis. He would continue without Hedwig, of course, but the uncomplicated harmony of the family life he had built with her is something he would never know in quite the same way again.
Frederick’s most urgent task after Hedwig’s death was to find a way to care for his children. His income at Yar was more than sufficient for him to hire the domestic help he needed, and the obvious solution was to find an experienced nanny. His choice fell on Valentina Leontina Anna Hoffman, and it would prove to be a fateful one. “Valli,” as she was often called, was twenty-eight years old and came from Riga, the capital of Latvia, a small province on the Baltic Sea that had been part of the Russian Empire since the eighteenth century. Her surname and the fact that she knew German as well as English—in addition to Russian, of course—suggest that she belonged to the Baltic region’s dominant German population and was educated. Judging by surviving photographs, she was a plain and rather large woman; and given subsequent developments, her appearance played a role in how Frederick treated her.
While working at Yar, Frederick had also begun to prepare for the next major step in his life, one that must have been in the back of his mind for years. The tips he received at work continued to be generous and he was accumulating a sizable sum in savings; in fact, he now had more money than ever before in his life. The time was right to decide what to do next—continue like Natruskin until retirement, which was the safe route, or take a calculated risk like Sudakov and invest in a business of his own. Frederick decided to follow Sudakov’s—and his father’s—example and to bet on his own skills and energy.
The business risks that Frederick faced could not be separated from the bigger ones threatening the entire country, although the energy with which he pursued his personal ambitions suggests that he thought Russia would somehow get through it all. The Revolution of 1905 showed the fragility of the Russian Empire’s social and political system, and what happened then could happen again. Although terrorism had declined from 1908 to 1910 in comparison with previous years, over 700 government bureaucrats and 3,000 civilians were murdered during this period (these deaths included the shocking assassination of the powerful prime minister Peter Stolypin in 1911). Strikes by workers demanding political and economic reforms dropped in 1910 to their lowest level in several years, with only some 50,000 workers participating in 2,000 mostly small job actions. But this relative lull was hardly a sign that the country’s underlying problems had been fixed, despite an economic boom that began around 1910. Strikes increased the following year and would grow to crisis proportions by 1914 as the government continued to suppress workers with blind, stupid brutality. An especially notorious incident occurred in 1912, when troops fired on thousands of peacefully demonstrating gold miners in Siberia, killing 147. The Duma demanded a full investigation, but little came of it. By this point in the country’s history, nothing could dispel the impression that the imperial government was dangerously, even catastrophically, adrift.
However, these threats flickering and rumbling in the distance did nothing to dampen Muscovites’ enthusiasm for revelry. Many observers noted that people in the city began to seek pleasure with increasing frenzy as the century’s second decade began. Frederick saw how others around him were making money and was ready to start doing so as well.
4: Early Fortune
In November 1911, Moscow’s devotees of nightlife got some exciting news: Aquarium was going to reopen the following spring under new management. After Aumont had absconded with his employees’ money four years earlier, the place had changed hands more than half a dozen times in a complex sequence of rentals and subleases. Some entrepreneurs had good runs initially, but even though the property was one of the biggest and most desirable green spaces in the city, their success ne
ver lasted long. To journalists who followed Moscow theatrical life, it seemed as if Aumont had laid a curse on anyone who tried to resurrect Aquarium after him.
An additional surprise was the self-confidence of the unlikely trio that took over the place, none of whom had been a player in the high-stakes game of Moscow nightlife. Two were Russians—Matvey Filippovich Martynov, a businessman, and Mikhail Prokofyevich Tsarev, a former barman who had risen to maître d’hôtel at Aquarium under a previous manager. The third was Frederick, who was very familiar to Yar’s habitués, and who was now calling himself “Fyodor Fyodorovich Tomas.”
Launching into this business venture was another major step in Frederick’s process of reinventing himself. To become an entrepreneur, he had to give up the security of a very well paying job and to put his hard-earned money and family’s welfare at risk. But there was a deeper change as well. By adopting a Russian first name and patronymic, he was changing the very terms by which the world knew him. This also proved to be more than a gesture of accommodation for the benefit of Moscow’s business world; it became part of Frederick’s identity even in his own family. Two of his grandchildren, who now live in France, did not know his American first and middle names. They believed that “Fyodor” was the only name he ever had because this is how their father, Frederick’s first son, had always referred to him in his family oral history.
Running Aquarium was a large, ambitious, and expensive project. The property had been neglected in recent years and needed extensive repairs. At least initially, Frederick and his partners intended to cover the costs by pooling their own savings. Of all the tasks facing them, the most urgent was to book the kind of entertainment that would dazzle Muscovites on opening night and keep them coming back all summer long. Accordingly, in February 1912, when the city’s freezing weather and snowdrifts made spring seem very distant, Frederick left for Western Europe to recruit variety theater acts for the coming season. It was typical that he wanted to oversee the crucial process of selection himself rather than entrust it to his partners or to talent agencies. The trip also shows how he quickly emerged as the leading member of the partnership, especially regarding issues of artistic taste. It helped as well that he knew foreign languages, since the others did not.
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