BUILDING: The Concrete Curtain

When Earl (“Flattop”) Smith was president of the National Association of Home Builders last autumn, he invited ten top Russian housing administrators for a 30-day tour of 13 U.S. cities. Returning the compliment this summer, the Russians conducted San Francisco’s Smith and 17 other American building experts on a Red-carpeted, 30-day junket through Soviet cities, gave them the best look at Soviet building that any U.S. group has ever had. Back in London last week the builders reported that Soviet construction moves at an impressively frantic pace, but that the workmanship is shoddy, the hand tools often primitive, the materials frequently second-rate.

The Americans also held out words of praise. They thought Stalingrad “beautiful” and Leningrad “magnificent.” Said Smith: “They’ve done a great restoration job. They’ve broadened streets, widened promenades, built parks and planted plenty of trees.”

Industry First. The visitors found that the biggest shortcoming in Soviet building is its overbalance. Top priority traditionally has gone to industrial construction, with badly needed housing a poor second. The Russians have leaned heavily on prefabricated building sections to offset the shortage of skilled labor, hoist them into place with eight-to ten-story-high cranes. Cracked one delegation member: “Anyone who calls it the Iron Curtain is outdated. It’s the Concrete Curtain. Brother, do they pour concrete!”

In each giant new residential section, the builders saw highest priority awarded to cultural centers “verging on temples.” But the quality of workmanship in the residential centers was sloppy. Reported Smith: “Finishings and exteriors are done very badly. Parts slip off, and plastic or ceramic facings just don’t want to stay in place. This creates a maintenance problem for which the Russians aren’t prepared.” Materials also looked bad, by American standards. “Paint rubs off easily, so we never walked close to walls. Water pipes get rusty, and wires are too narrow-gauge to light more than a 40-watt bulb.”

Transport is spotty, and bricks arrive at building sites battered and bruised, soon fall to pieces. Indoors, the Russians put in hardwood floors while construction is still under way; by the time work is finished, floors are gouged and pitted. But Smith tempered his criticism with the reminder that “it’s unfair to relate their standards to our standards. The Russians are intelligent people with an insuperable housing shortage. There’s been a tremendous raising of standard of housing. They want to learn how to do better.”

Labor Last. Everywhere, the Russians solicited advice from the visitors, carefully noted their suggestions. So acute is the shortage of labor and hand tools that in one steel mill the Americans saw women carrying heavy materials on a pallet instead of a wheelbarrow. Smith said he told them: “If you were to take the steel from a single giant crane and use it to turn out good wheelbarrows, picks and trowels and then teach people how to use them, it would help you very much.”

The Russians have already put to use some of the lessons learned from the West. In Moscow the housing men saw two model apartments that included such revolutionary (for Russia) features as kitchens with cabinets, wardrobe closets, modern bathrooms. Concluded Smith: “The Russians want to learn. They’ve asked for help. I can see nothing wrong in helping them. A well-housed people aren’t likely to be led into war. The more of them that know us, the more of us that know them, the less chance of war.”