The Prague Post Online: Tempo: Chasing a dream

July 6th, 2008

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Chasing a dream

In 1960s Czechoslovakia, a new world beckoned

March 26th, 2008 issue

Sís with the Czech edition of his award-winning book. enlarge

The Wall

Written and illustrated by Peter Sís
56 pgs.
Farrar, Straus & Giroux
Czech edition published by Labyrint

Expat Czech author and illustrator Peter Sís scored a major critical success recently with The Wall: Growing Up Behind the Iron Curtain, a personal reminiscence of his childhood in Czechoslovakia. The book won the 2008 Bologna Ragazzi Award for Nonfiction, and in the United States was named a Caldecott Honor Book and one of the best children’s books of the year by Publishers Weekly. In this essay, Sís recalls the events that shaped the book, including the pursuit of his adolescent dream to see the Beatles.

By Peter Sís

I grew up in a world surrounded by borders. And scary borders they were, in dangerous places with unpleasant things hiding behind them. That was what we were made to believe. After all, it was in the aftermath of World War II and the outset of the Cold War. Only much later would I learn that the electric fence, with its watchtowers and floodlights, guarded by dogs and border guards, was called The Iron Curtain.

This geographical-political border was part of our everyday life. When I went skiing with my family as a little boy near the border, we were checked by the police to make sure we were not potential “Disturbers of the Border.” Occasionally a sports team went to play beyond the border. Sometimes they did not come back, and were then denounced in the newspaper. (If, before they left, they talked about not returning — as my 20-year-old uncle did — they were imprisoned for years.)

Then we learned about the border at school. The communist dogma was a simple concept: The border divided and protected good from bad. And all the good people were living within the borders of the Soviet bloc. (OK, there were a few black sheep hiding among us, but it was up to us Young Pioneers to unmask and report them to the authorities, even if they were our family members.)

All the bad people lived in the capitalist world. From time to time, we were shown a film or assigned a story about bad people in our country who were trying to secretly cross the border, and were caught or shot by the brave border guards. We kids loved these stories, since only bad people would be trying to leave our prosperous socialist country.

My life and outlook began to change in the early ’60s. I met more and more people who came to visit Prague, or had traveled beyond the border, and came back with incredible stories and images to share of big buildings, wide boulevards, colorful cars, exotic food, tomatoes squashed into a bottle and called ketchup, Marlboro cigarettes, a guy named James Bond … and music!

First we heard about the popular music. Then we heard the music itself, and when we finally heard the Beatles, everything changed. We were waiting for the Beatles to come, playing the music we called “Big Beat.” After seeing A Hard Day’s Night, we were truly inspired. We painted images on our drums, our walls and posters. Everything from the West was like “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,” colorful and exotic. We refused to believe the official propaganda and started to suspect that the Wall wasn’t there to protect us, but to keep us in.

In 1966, travel restrictions were to be lifted if one had an invitation from a family one wanted to visit in Western Europe. Beatles fans to the rescue!

I wrote to the magazine Record Mirror about my love of rock music, got many letters from teenagers all over Europe, wrote back and received invitations from all of them. I would need to fill out many forms, get them stamped, get letters of recommendation from my school, from my local youth group, my street and my house supervisor and the army office. I also needed visas for the countries I would visit, and an exit visa from Czechoslovakia.

It took time and enormous effort (“Help! I need somebody …”). But finally I was crossing the border, the Iron Curtain, the Wall, with its barbed wire, electric fences, machine guns and dogs. With a little help from my friends, I made it and it was awesome. I felt I was living a dream, living the movie. The West looked, smelled and felt different.

Soon I was hitchhiking all over Europe, from one pen pal to another. I arrived too late to see the Beatles in Paris, then just missed them again in Liverpool. I followed them to Cornwall, Worcester and London. Late again, but Klaus Voorman, who did the cover for the Revolver album, invited me to paint his car with psychedelic colors.

Life was wonderful. Music was everywhere, with nobody to stop me from doing anything. I went to see the Beatles in Stockholm, hitchhiking to Newcastle, then by ship to Bergen, Norway, and across the border to Sweden. Nobody was checking me, no stamps, no questions. These were not the borders I knew.

I missed the Beatles again. And then it was time to go home if I didn’t want to get my family in trouble. Home, behind the walls and the electric fences.

I had no idea there would be Prague Spring and the Russian invasion in 1968, that the walls would get even heavier and darker before they would crumble.

But the message was out: There is no way to stop the music, the colors and the dreams.

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