#ARCTIC. #SIBERIA. THIS IS TAIMYR. Nikolay Urvantsev was a living legend of the Arctic for several generations of geologists. Colleagues at the Research Institute of Arctic Geology recalled him as “a tall, thin, slightly stooped man in a padded jacket, whose name was deleted from all his works”, a stern, rather unsociable, but very intelligent person. He talked little about his period of work in prison, answering direct questions in monosyllables. But sometimes details emerged. As Urvantsev said, the first time he was put in the Gulag forced labor for allegedly sabotagingly underestimating the ore reserves of the Medvezhy Roochey deposit he discovered, and the second time – for exaggerating them.
At the end of the 1940s, while still an unconvoyed prisoner, but at the same time the Norilsk combine’s chief geologist, Urvantsev moved freely throughout Taimyr and even flew to report in Moscow. When the need arose to make a qualified report in the capital, no one could replace the chief geologist. So Urvantsev was taken to a tailor, who took measurements and quickly sewed a chic suit. A shirt and tie were provided with the suit. Nikolay Nikolaevich spent his business days in this “civilized” look, but upon returning to Norilsk he was again dressed in camp clothes. The dark humor is that such business trips happened more than once, and each time Urvantsev was given a new suit.
One day Urvantsev, together with Mahotkin, a famous polar pilot, also a prisoner, flew to Dikson. They were fed in the same wardroom as the other pilots, but separately and later. Young geologists looked through the closed doors: it was a little creepy to see real “living prisoners”, who were discoverers of the Arctic lands at the same time.
There were many employees of the Research Institute of Arctic Geology – they sat in their offices very crowded. When they were looking an office for Urvantsev – they wanted to find a more comfortable place – he was offered a place next to the regime-secret “first department”, where there were bars on the windows. Seeing them, Nikolay Nikolaevich said: “Thank you, I have already sat in such surrounding”.
As a result, he was put in an office where six or seven other specialists worked. Everyone tried not to interfere with others, but there were breakdowns. One day, when the argument between employees became too noisy, Urvantsev, who was writing a report, threw down his pen and said in the heat of the moment: “I still had the best working conditions when I was imprisoned in Norilsk!” Later, having calmed down, he explained that in the camp he was given a separate work room, which no one was allowed to enter. There were guards outside the door, since he was a special prisoner and no one was allowed to enter without the permission of the camp authorities. The room contained Urvantsev’s library, delivered from besieged Leningrad by a special plane, on Zavenyagin’s personal order. Urvantsev was allowed to spend the night in that office room, but in solidarity with the other prisoners he went to sleep in the common barracks.
Nikolay Nikolaevich sometimes recalled his past life in an original way. In response to one institute employee’s frequent complaints about toothache, he remarked: “Well, why are you still suffering, pull them out and put artificial ones. I have Stalin’s ones, I can crack nuts”, and he tapped his teeth with his knuckles.
Urvantsev’s humor was really unique. In the early 1970s, when he became a professor and an unquestioned authority, a young specialist was introduced to him: “Nikolay Nikolaevich, he is going to explore Norilsk”. To which Urvantsev, sternly raising his glasses, was surprised: “Are they still just exploring it?”
In the History Spot photo project’s previous publication, we told that Norilsk football players were coached by ex-Spartak captain Andrey Starostin.
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Text: Svetlana Ferapontova, Photo: Nornickel Polar Branch archive
