Mud in His Eye

In the current phase of the cold war, one of the severest trials of strength with the adversary involves the ability to belt down toast after toast without falling over. The Russians have the advantage of longer familiarity with the chosen weapon, which is usually vodka.

But they are apparently not willing to leave it at that. Last week in Rome, Italy's Foreign Minister Gaetano Martino, waiting to greet a distinguished German visitor, Konrad Adenauer, told of a triumph of toastmanship achieved by the hardheaded, steel-stomached old man on his visit to Moscow last September. Unaware of der Alte's heroic capacity for hard liquor, Communist Party Chief Khrushchev had proposed one toast after another at a state banquet, watching eagerly as the German Chancellor drained glass after glass of vodka. At the end of some 15 toasts, Adenauer was still going strong, and able to note a slight transformation in Khrushchev's drinking pattern that had taken place early in the match.

Next day, at the bargaining table, Konrad Adenauer slyly asked the Russians present how far a man could be trusted who matched a vodka toast with one of plain mineral water. Caught dead to rights, Russia's Khrushchev admitted his deception with a loud guffaw.

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