A Degree of Thaw

U.S.-Soviet postwar relations have gone through cycles of freeze and mild thaw--but the Kennedy Administration has experienced mainly cold weather. When Kennedy first took office, he naively conveyed a request for a six-month moratorium on Communist crisis stirring while his Administration got its house in order.

For a few weeks it seemed as if he might get it, especially after the Soviet Union released two imprisoned U.S. RB-47 flyers. But the Kremlin soon set about a round of troublemaking that challenged the U.S. from Laos to Berlin. Tension reached its peak with the erection of the Berlin wall and the Soviet Union's resumption of nuclear testing on a monster scale. It looked as if President Kennedy's flinty remark to a flinty Khrushchev at Vienna--"It's going to be a cold winter"--would prove all too true. But last week, after long months in which Moscow has hardly let Kennedy take a deep breath, the tension seemed to be relaxing a little. At his press conference the President was cautiously optimistic. Said he: "We are always hopeful, and we are making every effort that we can to bring an easing of tensions.''

What was happening was that several U.S. and Soviet officials were talking and smiling at one another--and hinting that they would like to do more talking and smiling. Off to Paris went White House Press Secretary Pierre Salinger for a meeting with Mikhail Kharlamov, press officer of the Soviet Foreign Ministry. And into Washington, at President Kennedy's invitation, flew Aleksei Adzhubei, editor of Izvestia and son-in-law of Premier Nikita Khrushchev.

Vodka & Violins. In a day and a night in Paris, Salinger had two meetings with Kharlamov (whom he soon began calling Mike)--in the Paris home of Cecil Lyon, minister of information in the U.S. Paris embassy, and in the grey-walled Soviet embassy on Rue de Grenelle. While Salinger puffed on cigars, the pair were served vodka and caviar, discussed press relationships and other communication channels between the U.S. and the Soviet Union. Inevitably, the meetings gave rise to rumors that Salinger was negotiating about a Kennedy visit to Russia, but Salinger denied it "on a stack of Bibles." One thing that Salinger and Kharlamov did talk about: a possible exchange of TV appearances between Kennedy and Khrushchev--either separately on each other's national screens or on a single TV show in both nations through the use of tape.

Adzhubei and his wife Rada broke off a South American tour to answer the President's invitation, got the full Kennedy treatment in Washington. They lunched with the Kennedys on pheasant and wild rice, were welcomed to the President's press conference, and were introduced to Caroline Kennedy, who had in tow her dog Pushinka, a gift from Premier Khrushchev. Adzhubei had a private talk with Kennedy that was described only as "wide-ranging," "candid" and "not uncordial"; Jackie Kennedy took Rada on a tour of the White House nursery. The Adzhubeis also took a meal with the Bobby Kennedys, about to leave on a world tour, and with the Salingers. Later, Salinger took them on a boat trip down the Potomac; Salinger's son Stephen, 9, played The Star-Spangled Banner on his violin as the boat passed the George Washington mansion at Mount Vernon.

With him Adzhubei brought to Salinger an assortment of Armenian brandies--and an invitation to visit Russia in the spring. To the chagrin of many State Department regulars, who look with concern on Salinger's diplomatic dabblings, the President promptly approved the trip. In the amiable atmosphere, Adzhubei even suggested a child exchange. He offered to send his three sons, ranging in age from three to nine, to stay with the Salingers for a few months if Salinger would send his three children (Stephen; Marc, 13, and Suzanne, 10) to Russia to live with the Adzhubeis. Salinger said he would think about it.

Khrushchev's Turn. Had anything really changed? Berlin was still there; in the third of a series of meetings in Moscow to probe Soviet intentions about Berlin. U.S. Ambassador Llewellyn Thompson found Soviet Foreign Minister Andrei Gromyko as unbending as ever. Laos and South Viet Nam were still very much there. In Geneva, mired down by Russian refusal to merge test-ban talks with general disarmament discussions--a reversal of Moscow's previous position--the nuclear test-ban talks were broken off last week after three long and frustrating years. The Russians tested another nuclear device (underground), while the U.S. was still trying to decide whether or when to renew atmospheric testing.

While the great East-West crises looked as bristling as ever, the world was learning more every week about the ideological issues that are pitting Communist against Communist. Perhaps it is Khrushchev, this time, who in effect is asking for an agreement to disagree amiably for a few months, a little moratorium while he puts his house in order.

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