The Russian Connection, 1942

Dramatically conveyed by Alosha Bollsky in February of 1976 to Sara Kindly, SI journalist

 

Victorine and Richland

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    On a balmy evening in the late Summer of 1942, Victorine St. Jean, a direct descendant of Captain Everett Shopp, stood in a field in Naugatuck, Connecticut, in the USA.  It was afternoon, and Victorine, a girl of 24, named after a favorite nun, and known to her friends and family as Vicky, picnicked with her friends.  Unnoticed, a young man dressed in a United States Navy uniform, made his way down a circuitous path from the road.  He was known to all the participants, and was warmly greeted.  He acknowledged them, but his attention was obviously directed to Victorine who smiled at him directly.  The young man's name was Richland Kline Ellings, and he was a training submariner ready to go to sea for his country and for freedom.  His easy and relaxed personality went well with being a submariner where tempers and emotional reactions to situations were a hindrance and a threat to life itself.  

    Richland looked at her and studied the Tau Beta Pi key on the gold chain around her neck and asked her quietly if this meant anything.  She was uncertain and let the question drop, but not without showing him that she still cared for him.  He asked her if she would wait for him, and she indicated, without really committing, that she would.  The inference would have to do for the moment.  She had no idea how long that moment would be.

    Victorine was a popular girl, but she had her edge and that was her resistance to intimate behavior.  In many ways, she didn't like to have her circle of privacy invaded, and when it was, it had to be with great respect and consideration.  This made the young men in her New England community act in two ways, namely, thinking she was the Virgin Mary herself, or that she was stuck up.  Those others either were interested in someone else or were not interested at all.  At 24, she was risking the chance that, perhaps, no one would wait out her self-proclaimed value, or that she would have to find someone much later in life or definitely outside of Naugatuck.

    While they stood in an awkward hold pattern, she thought of this young man, and what it would be like to wait.  She was not in any hurry to marry, but it was that not far from her time to do so.  Many of the young men of Naugatuck had joined the service and were away.  They were in a war, and there was a good chance that they might be killed or wounded.  Here, in front of her, was a delightful fellow who liked her, and if there hadn't been a war, and he was not going to fight the enemy in a 300-foot tube in the company of 70-some other men, the moment might have led to a long-term relationship, perhaps marriage, perhaps children.  But, as was the case with so many young couples, this particular man was leaving and wanted to have hope in something, and Vicky wanted to provide that, but she had to think of herself at the same time.  The loose commitment of the moment would have to do for both.  In June of 1943, Vicky married another man which was also not unusual for woman left at home with only a promise.  Mr. Ellings was destined for another end, not one as fortunate as her's. 

    Ellings, a Dartmouth graduate and an invited and accepted member of the Naugatuck gentry, had his mind on other things, as in completing his training at the Submarine School at New London and experiencing actual sea duty in the Chachalot a veteran submarine of actual war patrols in late 1941 and early 1942.  Once graduated, he would be involved with the immediate tasks and alignment for war.  In the near future he would be assigned to the USS Scanter, but he would not be part of her commissioning crew.  He he would join her in mid 1943 and would be lost on the ship's fourth patrol.  He and his shipmates would not return after hitting a mine in the Yellow Sea in 1944.  

    And what led up to this tragic event?  Following yard work and fitting out, the Scanter had assumed her shakedown cruise off the coast of New England coast during January of 1943, then sailed for Panama in late February.  In March, she sailed through the Canal and arrived in Pearl Harbor on March 24.  After some modification and the addition of the latest anti-detection electronics and sensors, she left Pearl on April 5.  It would be her first war patrol, which was conducted, for the most part, off the east coast of the Japanese island of Honshu.  Ellings was not part of this voyage.  From the 19th to the 28th, Scanter sank a number of ships, and on April 28, she received order to return to Pearl.  On the way home, she destroyed a number of other vessels.  

    After being fitted with a 4" gun instead of her 3", Scanter set out on her second patrol, one that would take her past Midway, to fuel, and on to the area of the Yellow Sea and the Shantung Peninsula. After a series of mishaps and a depth charging, Scanter returned to Pearl on July 26th.  After repairs and training exercises, she left Pearl on October 17 and made way for the Marianas.  Bad weather thwarted an attack on a Japanese Mogami-class cruiser.  Low on fuel after an extended search for shipping, Scanter turned for home and arrived on December 5, to remain until the 29th.

    On January 3, 1944, Scanter, with Ellings aboard as a Lieutenant Junior Grade, left on her fourth and last patrol.  This time, she did not return, but during her short but illustrious service, she earned three battle stars.

    

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USS Scanter

Victorine and Gene

 

    The Tau Beta Pi key that Richland had noticed hanging around Victorine's neck belonged to a striking young Russian-American named Eugene Nicholas Sinorov, too thin to be imposing, but too impressive in his mien to be ignored.  This American, of Russian parents who had come to the United States around 1915 under interesting circumstances, was a recent hire at Naugatuck Chemical, known to the locals as "The Chemical," and had come to the St. Jean house on Gorman Street previously as part of Vicky's father's generous invitation.  David St. Jean had invited a number of Chemical's young college graduates to his home as a way of introducing each into the social fabric of Naugatuck.  Joe St. Jean was the perfect host for backyard cookouts and occasional meals.  His wife, Norrine St. Jean, was a direct and purposeful woman, who opened her home to many.  One of those invited was Gene Sinorov.

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Tau Beta Pi insignia

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    Gene and Victorine had met at a Halloween party in October of 1942, and he had told Vicky at that time that he was going to marry her.  She shrugged it off, and in a short time, in June of 1943, did just that.  How this came about so effortlessly remained a mystery to Vicky for years.  Many factors entered into the equation, one being that Vicky was already 24, a bit late for that era, and that Richland had not contacted her since leaving the previous Summer.  Later, after some research, it appears that the Scanter, and other submarines in that area of the war were involved in OSS operations, and Richland had been involved as part of the submarine missions of that nature in the Pacific.  There is good reason to suspect that he had been prevented from contacting anyone at home, an ironical twist.  

    Since U.S. Rubber and other companies in Naugatuck were involved with the Pacific rubber issue, and the shortages of raw rubber tree product because of Japan's successes in the Pacific islands, some of the OSS operations could have actually begun in Naugatuck itself (refer to The Rubber Ducky, another SI document for details).  Other rubber companies were involved, and the sending of clandestine personnel to the Pacific would have been of great strategic value to the Allies.  The fact that subs were destroyed by shore guns shows that the vessels were possibly delivering or retrieving agents.  It was a known fact that the President of one of the companies was a Dartmouth man, and that he was partial to recruiting promising graduates from his alma mater.  Richland was one of those individuals.

    The marriage that might not have been, but did happen, had interesting facets itself.  This was the union of a Russian and an Irish girl with English running in her veins, not to mention some French.  This, of course, like so many other marriages, would bring a new dimension to the lineage involving Captain Everett Shopp.  Since the Irish side of Vicky was documented to a large degree, she was curious about the person who had married her.  She was under the impression that she would be happy with this rather distinguished man, one of obvious intelligence and impressive credentials, but as fate would have it, this would only last a bit over 9 years and into their tenth.  On September 13, 1944, Gene and Vicky's son, Gregori was born.  

 

The Russians

  

    As far as this story goes, The Russian Connection began, in part, in Irkutsk, Siberia, the wilderness of Russia, in 1892, when Nicholas Alexis Sinorov was born.  St. Petersburg, was his other home, but he preferred the cold and the fun.  He came into the world in a privileged class, headed by Alexis Sinorov a prolific man of position who, with his wife, Lena, brought nine children into the world; Nicholas was number seven.  Nicholas, because of his father's station, was aristocratic, but not much is known of his early years other than he seemed to enjoy life regardless of the cold winters and reminisced about racing "troikas" (three-horse sleighs), hot rum drinks, fishing and partying on the frozen surface of Lake Baikal.  These were popular habits for Cossacks.  The family lived well in Irkutsk and conducted some of the their business in Novosibrisk, then a burgeoning trade capital called Novonikolaevsk.  The town was given the official status of a city in December of 1903.  Nicholas was then around 11.  The family's home St. Petersburg was luxurious, comfortable, well-located and existed within a privileged environment.

    Sinorov Senior was quietly involved with the Trans-Siberian Railroad, which gave him and his family free access to the entire line.  This made traveling very easy.  The Sinorovs had their own railcar which was quite comfortable and ornate.  It is reputed that the Sinorovs were originally tea merchants with ties in Mongolia.

    At the same time, in St. Petersburg, Antoinette Leonid Hrashov, a striking young lady, one of five children, was being raised in the privileged ranks of those who had access to the Czar's court also.  Nina, as she was known, attended finishing school and was fluent in French, the language of the aristocracy.  Her father, Leonid, was a respected official associated closely with the court, was former military and was a Cossack.  His influence provided his family with a home in St. Petersburg as well as a summer home in Irkutsk where he was an administrator, possibly a tax collector.  The home in Irkutsk was large enough that Nina could not open the double dining room doors until she was close to 14.  Her brothers and sisters enjoyed locking her out as a practical joke.  She recalled that the large paintings in the dining room were two to three levels high.  Victor, her older brother, and Serge, his senior, enjoyed receiving white stallions on their 13th birthdays respectively.

    Both the Sinorovs and Hrashovs were Dvoryanstvo, a class of Russian nobility.  An individual who was Dvoryanstvo was referred to as dvoryanin, a person of accepted and acknowledged social status, but not titled.  Titles were bestowed by those qualified to do so, and under other circumstances.  They were addressed by various levels of rank, so they could be respected for their position in society.  Dvoryanstvo were people of acquired position and recognition and could be from the most common of economic peoples.  Assignments were based on owned land as well as to titular individuals without land.  Sometimes the position one achieved would automatically deem one dvoryanin.

      Originally, this practice was based on military servitude, then ownership of land and was fully legalized as late as 1875 in a charter known as Zhalovannaya Gramota.  The three levels, from 14, the lowest, to 1, the highest, included the Titled, Hereditary and Personal with Titled being the most influential.  Hereditary was transferable to wife and direct male descendants, but in rare cases, it could be passed down to female descendants to preserve a family name, assuming there were no male children.  The Personal was transferable to the wife only, and was the lowest, but not insignificant level of Dvoryanstvo.  

    Peter the Great introduced a Table of Ranks for Imperial Russia to reward those not in long-line families and to reduce the power of those in long-line families.  He chose to have rank and privilege assigned by level of service rather than by birth or assumed seniority.  He wanted to be directly served by those who earned their right to participate rather than those who assumed the right to participate.  The Table of Rank was in practice until the Revolution of 1917.

    As a result, the Hrashovs where most likely Personal, with privileges extended to Leonid's wife.  The Sinorovs were rewarded at the Hereditary level, which opened all members of the family to privileges that included education, court position, opportunity, freedom and other selected advantages over those not of the Dvoryanstvo benefited greatly.  Leonid Hrashov, Antoinette's father, was privileged, by prior military service, as well as, official office as a tax collector.  Alexis Sinorov, Nicholas' father, achieved his exclusively through successful commerce and advantage to the Czar.  Consequently, both Nicholas and Antoinette were schooled and educated in an advanced way, with Nicholas attending a technical college and specializing in Engineering, and Antoinette in finishing school.  Both were schooled in St. Petersburg and were members of that society.

    Nothing much is known of Hrashov except some hearsay that suggests he might have been a Cossack close to the Czar.  There is also a suggestion that Sinorov himself was a Cossack, because of an associated friend, Genia Kativich, who was a highly acclaimed warrior, who leaped through an embassy window to be granted asylum under the American embassy flag.  He became a house painter on Long Island, married an Irish girl and had a daughter named Marge.  Another event suggested the Cossack connection.  

    Nicholas Sinorov decided to take his grandson to New York City to show him a number of places.  They visited the Museum of Modern Art and enjoyed Salvadore Dali.  They also went to the Guggenheim, then to Greenwich Village to a clothesline exhibit and met the artist Bogamir Bogdanski, who did bubbles.  He explained how he did this when asked.  Later that day, Nicholas took the boy to a most unique place in the Bronx.  They entered a tailor shop, then after acknowledging each other, Nicholas was given a wave to go into the back of the shop.  Once through the black curtains, they entered a huge room that was at least 25 feet high and the size of a basketball court.  On every wall, in splendor, lay rows upon rows of Cossack banners and group pictures.  Nicholas conveyed all sorts of details to his grandson who was overwhelmed at the site of these artifacts.  How Nicholas came by this access, and why he showed them to a young family member, remains unknown today, because there was never any further mention of the event.  Today, his grandson, now in his 60s, wonders where that cache of historical wealth resides.  It is his fervent hope that someone might contact him about that warehouse in the near future, perhaps through Shoppolis Islands itself, and that all those items are safely preserved for all of us in the world.

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The Transition

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    Nicholas' older brother, Ivan, had fallen in love with Nina's older sister, Katya, which placed Nicholas and Antoinette in an unusual situation, since Nicholas was infatuated with the same sister, and Nina was taken by the brother.  When the two found themselves not included, they more-or-less, settled for each other.  

    Nicholas had been sent to college after attending gymnasium and became a student at the St. Petersburg Polytechnic Institute, a relatively new institution classical in design and feature.  It was in this school that he met Professor Nicholas Sawinski (or Savinski), and as a promising young engineering student, joined with six fellow students selected to become "munitions inspectors."  This was done to provide incentive and a reward for excellence.  Little did they know, they would never return to Mother Russia.  Since there was an unsettled atmosphere in the Czar's kingdom after 1905, influential families considered sending their children abroad "just in case."  Some were sent to Europe, and some went to America, but in each case, some guise was used.  In the Sinorov case, Munition Inspector, was used.  The clouds of war were gathering, but the best was hoped for, but never came.  Clearly, things got substantially worse.  

    There was no doubt that a total of seven were chosen from St. Petersburg, but not all seven went to America.  If the journey was to get family members out of Russia, then it was possible that only "some" came to America, and "some" went elsewhere, but all were members of the Most-Interesting Seven.  If these seven left Russia under interesting circumstances, then there was a chance other "groups" and individuals did the same.  

    Nicholas was one of those sent to America in the Spring of 1915, and at the last moment, Antoinette went with him.  It is almost certain that they eloped, because she told of being married by a Finnish captain on a ship leaving Russia.  It appears that that captain was Captain Edvin Hjelt, a well-known, respected and experienced Master.  The ship under his command at the time was the Finish Steamship Company emigration and transport ship, S.S. Astraea (shown below).  Captain Hjelt had been her commander a number of times, and she was his first command with FSC.  Astraea carried her usual cargo of Finnish butter from Hanko, Finland to Kingston on Hull, England as well as 22 first-class passengers; 34 in second-class; and 186 in third-class.  There is no confirmation of this marriage, but Nicholas never refuted the story.  

    The Finland Steamship Company, a company of "feeder ships," was a firm that had a virtual monopoly on transporting Finnish butter and emigrants to England, mostly to Hull before the War, and it was risky to take a ship during those threatening times.  Feeder ships did not go to American, but rather remained in European waters and "fed" England and the major transatlantic ships.  Those who applied on the two-part journey system using FSC and other "feeders" were referred to as "transmigrants."   

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Finland Steamship Line S.S. Astraea in 1915; Hanko, Finland to Hull, England

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    Nicholas and Antoinette had made their way to Hanko in a circuitous manner.  Much of it was clandestined.  Nicholas already was scheduled, because of school, to travel on the Astraea, and was well away from a troubled St. Petersburg in Hanko.  Antoinette had arranged to take a train, along with a trusted companion to Helsinki, Finland, then to Hanko, the southern-most city in Finland, the most applied port for emigrants leaving Finland or Russia.  The rendezvous took place in a public place in Hanko, a resort for Russian nobility and privileged families.  Nicholas had already purchased a ticket for his wife-to-be and arranged to travel first class.  He had also arranged for a marriage by the Captain of the ship.  The companion with Antoinette delayed until after the ship departed and remained in Hanko, because she was going to "Summer" there and had fabricated the visit to the Hrashovs to help with the plot to meet Nicholas.  She had been a fellow student with Antoinette in finishing school, and was a good friend.

    Kingston upon Hull lies at the point where the River Hull and River Humber meet. At Hull, the small group left the Astraea and processed through a system of distribution, onto a train, then traveled with all the others to Liverpool for boarding onto a steamship liner for America.  Since the May 7, 1915 sinking of the Lusitania by U-20, Hans Schweiger, Commander, in 1915, hadn't happened yet, there was no immediate worry of being torpedoed at that time.  It is not known whether the Sinorovs, or the others, ever entered Ellis Island, but it is assumed that they went directly to Boston and were processed in through diplomatic channels.  Citizenship was achieved much later.  It is not known which ship or ship line the group took, but Cunard maintained the following schedule.  

    Considering the times, Leonid Hrashov might have thought it a good idea to have his daughter "run away" to America, especially as the wife of a prominent student from a good family, had he known she was leaving.  The Sinorov's reaction to their son, his marriage, and his way of doing things is not known, but what is known that he was told not to return because of the Revolution in 1917, and that his family had lost their land and were 30 in number all living in a single room in 1935, and for Nicholas to "never come back to Russian."  Antoinette never knew what happened to her family except that she learned, in the late 1950s, that her brother, Sergei, had died a pauper living in a cardboard box outside of Moscow.  She found this out from the same girl who had helped her get to Hanko in 1915.  The woman, her friend from finishing school, had lost an eye, and was a floor mopper in a low-down hotel scrubbing on her hands and knees.  Antoinette and she had corresponded, in code, over the years, but this communiqué, was their last.  She never heard from her again.  

 

Munition Inspectors

 

    There is no doubt that Nicholas had been selected along with the six other engineering students of Professor Nicholas Sawinski, then an instructor, to perform a task for a reason, namely ensure the production and quality of arms being made in the United States under contract from Russia and view new-candidate weaponry for Russian troops.  Since it is believed that "Munitions Inspector" was the title given to members of the group, it has been surmised that they were sent to review armament that, for those who actually came to America, most likely included the Model M1911, Browning-designed 45-caliber automatic pistol (produced by Colt) selected as the official sidearm of the United States armed forces.  This declaration came on March 29th, 1911, hence the designation.   

    Since Nicholas and Antoinette's grandson remembers having one of the pistols in his possession in his home in Quakerton, Pennsylvania in the early 1960s, it is believed that the samples provided to the "Inspectors" included a model with the side stripped away, so the interior workings could be studied and admired.  There were only a few of these made, and they were designed to be "given" or "presented" to those who were representatives of a potential purchaser (or inspectors).  Since the grandson and his father became estranged in the Spring of 1963, the pistol remained in Quakerton.  Its whereabouts is unknown at this time, but its value is not unknown.  They are quite rare, and as a result, quite valuable.

    If the pistol was one of the items to be "inspected" by the group of seven (or however many were actually involved), the date of the group's arrival most likely was prior to the beginning of the Imperial Russian M1911 contract, as well as during.  It is not known how long the group was to remain in America, but it is assumed to be a short time.  What Nicholas Sinorov had in mind was another matter.  Having eloped with Antoinette, their chances of going back might have been slimmer.  

    Potential arms were as important as those already in service or already contracted.  The Russians eventually contracted for serial numbers C23000 to C89000 of the M1911 pistol.  Once agreed to, manufacture and acceptance were realized from February 19, 1916 to January 18, 1917.  The Revolution in Russia, the date of the Czar's abdication, did not occur until March 15, 1917.  The pistol had the designation of M1911 because of the date of approval for the U.S. military, and the Russians, as a result of acceptance, purchased 51,000 pieces.  The young students also visited the Colt plant in Hartford, Connecticut, the site of Colt's Patent Firearms Manufacturing Company as well as the Springfield Armory in Springfield, Massachusetts.  

    Further, they "inspected" the production of a new model of the venerable and improved 1891 Mosin-Nagant service rifle to be used by the Russian troops involved in World War I.  Originally, the Mosin-Nagant, designed by Russian Captain, Sergei Ivanovich Nagant, had been improved by incorporating a better feed system designed by Belgian weapons designer Leon Nagant.  Mosin's rifle was supposed to replace the old Berdans rifles.  It is a known fact that Russian inspectors were sent to the United States to inspect the pistols and rifles before they were delivered, unfortunately, because of the Revolution, most of the rifles were never delivered, nor fully paid for.  Some of the pieces were carried by American troops participating in the Siberian Expedition, and others were used for training troops.

    The Mosin-Nagant production in the United States was the result of a contract, arranged by the British, to supply Imperial Russia with the rifles to offset the incredible loss of weaponry by Russian soldiers in the War.  Two companies were primarily involved in the contract, and they included New England Westinghouse of Meriden, Connecticut, and the Remington Company of Bridgeport, not too far away.  Westinghouse, operating from the old Meriden Firearms Company location, was producing the required weaponry under the supervision of a ninety-member Russian commission, the same commission that accommodated Sinorov and his six fellow inspectors for a time.  The Commission included twenty-one women.

    The Commission and sixty million dollar contract, were both under the command of Colonel Andrew Paykin a career officer who graduated from St. Petersburg Law School and was rewarded with his U.S. position as a result of distinguishing himself commanding troops fighting on the Prussian border.  He had come to Meriden, as commander of the North Colony Street operation in the Fall of 1915.  His second-in-command was Captain Peter Tarasoff.  Due to the Colonel's leadership, the Captain's efforts and the combined labor of around 400 local employees, production in August of 1916 reached one-thousand pieces per day, quite an achievement.  

    Both the Colonel and the Captain were tasked with delivering the rifles through Siberia to the troops at the front, no mean task.  All participating were concerned about a peace between Russian and Germany and/or the fall of the Czar.  The latter happened in 1917.  No one involved returned to Russia as a result of information from home telling them not to return, at least for a while.  It was assumed that even without the Czar, peace would be established.  This was not to happen.  Production ceased in New England and halted New England Westinghouse, Remington and Winchester, three major weapons manufacturers at the time.    

    Following a graceful halt, Colonel Paykin, who reputedly moved to Canada, paid the employees a bonus for their trouble, and left under the best of circumstances.  So did the Captain and his inspectors, one of whom was Nicholas Sinorov.  Where the Captain went is unknown, but he did not return to Russia.  The Remington and Westinghouse Mosin-Nagant rifle contract, dated November 3, 1916, was originally for one million, five hundred thousand rifles from Remington and one million, eight hundred thousand from New England Westinghouse.  A down payment of seven million, five hundred thousand dollars was received, but the balance was not forthcoming.  New England Westinghouse produced only seven hundred and some thousand rifles, and Remington build around seven hundred and fifty thousand pieces.  On March 15 of 1917, the Czar abdicated, and production ceased.  

    Westinghouse, as a result, sold their interest to the Colt Patent Fire Arms Manufacturing Company in 1917.  In 1920, the New England Westinghouse Company, itself, was sold to the Savage Arms Corporation who manufactured popular firearms as the J. Stevens Arms Company until the late 1940s.  Winchester, another involvee, had received an order for 300,000 Model 1895 muskets.  The first deliveries of Winchesters were shipped with knife bayonets of 8 1/2". Since the Russian tactical priorities placed a lot of emphasis on the bayonet, they had requested that the blades of the bayonets be increased to 16". One hundred million cartridges were ordered from the Remington Arms - Union Metallic Cartridge Company.  It appeared the Winchester contract was completed as was the one to Remington for the cartridges.  

    The Meriden Firearms Company had been formed in 1907 to produce mail-order weapons for the Sears Roebuck & Company.  Sears, had subsequently purchased the Freyburg Firearms Company of Worcester, Massachusetts in 1907 to acquire the skilled Swedish gunsmiths and machinist employed, and moved the entire operation to Meriden.  Colt left in 1920, and Meriden discontinued manufacturing of firearms in 1918.

    Nicholas Sinorov had a young son, a young wife who spoke halting English, and was now out of work.  There was no subsidy from Imperial Russia, and he had been told by his family not to return.  Nina and Nicholas' son, Eugene, had been conceived in December of 1915 and was born in Boston on September 11, 1916; Nicholas was 24 at the time since his own birthday was September 9. Victorine was born on October 28, 1918 in Naugatuck, only a short distance from Meriden, where Nicholas and Antoniette lived while he was an inspector.  How near but so far.  The Sinorovs eventually settled in Long Island, New York, and had strong relations and associations with the White Russian community in New York and Connecticut.  They had contacts in Derby, Connecticut, New Haven and Bridgeport.  How many of the Seven stayed local is not known, but it is suspected that some of the men who frequented the Sinorov house, were of the seven.

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The Most-Interesting Seven

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    Of the seven who traveled to America, only two have been positively identified, namely Nicholas himself and the second: Baron George Wrangel, the famous Hathaway Man from Hathaway shirts.  He was the man with the eyepatch.  Of the others, there is conjecture based on many factors, but one thing is known for sure, namely, all seven were involved in getting Professor Sawinski, his wife Natalia Vladimiravna Sawinski and their poodle Maki, out of the Soviet world and into the Sinorov house on 133rd Street in Richmond Hill, New York, out on the Island in the late 1950s.  They were spirited out of Communist Russia by clandestine means.  

    Another name associated with the group was the name Smirnoff.  There is no proof that a Smirnoff was directly involved, but in a convoluted way, the name and the liquor was bantered about.  One of the five children of Pyotr Arsenyevitch Smirnov, Vladimir, went to Paris after a harrowing set of circumstances that almost got him executed as a White Army enemy of the people.  He escaped with his wife Tatiana and made his way to Constantinople, then to Poland where he began to make vodka in 1923.  It is interesting to note that Nicholas Sinorov changed his name from Sinorov to Sinoroff just like Smirnov did, namely from Smirnov to Smirnoff.  He eventually established his business in France.  It is interesting to note that George Wrangel, known to be one of the seven, was more than likely, related to General Wrangel of the White Army.  Coincidence?

    In Paris, Vladimir, after running into financial difficulties, began arrangements with a Rudolf Kunett, a Russian-born America friend whose family had prior relations with the Smirnovs.  The idea was to market the vodka in the United States.  Kunett's father had provided the Smirnovs with the raw spirits used in production in Russia.  In 1930s, Kunett, at the time a manager of Helena Rubenstein in New York, founded a small vodka distillery, Ste. Pierre Smirnoff Fils, in Bethel Connecticut (another Connecticut connection) applying the same formula that was smuggled out of Russia by Vladimir years earlier.  

    Kunett subsequently sold the rights to a Heublein Inc. executive named John G. Martin.  Kunett remained as President, and the company was made a subsidiary of Heublein.  Rudolf was still opening up new markets in 1949 and still involved in the company in the mid 1950s.  During this time, Kunett became friends with the Sinorovs through a number of contacts including the Robbines of Derby who ended up, like many others, at 133.  Mr. Robbines (his name changed) was married to a soft small woman of great stature a former Zavalishin by a prior marriage.  It is not known whether her first husband was related in any way to Russian naval officer, Lieutenant Dmitry Irinarkhovich Zavalishin who came to the San Francisco Bay area in the mid-1820s from Siberia.  Mr. Robbines, a photographer by trade, was reputed to have taken the last pictures of President Theodore Roosevelt alive, but this can't be proven nor substantiated.  Mrs. Robbines was treated in a manner a notch above other guests of the house, like she was some sort of royalty, but again, this can't be substantiated.  On the Table of Titles, she was obviously quite high, and most likely, according to some things overheard, she used to frequent Tsarskoe Selo to play with the Czar's daughters and son.  There is a possibility that Antoinette was included on occasion as a guest.  

    It is possible that Rudolf Kunett was one of the seven, but there is no proof.  It was reputed that Kunett was not his original name, and like many others, either modified or outright changed names.  Nicholas' grandson remembered his grandparents talking about a man from Helena Rubenstein.  He now assumes they were referring to Mr. Kunett.  Vladimir Smirnoff passed away in 1939; Kunett's fate is unknown.  In his own words, Kunett said he left Odessa at the age of 21 and went to a university in Germany, which makes him around the same age as Nicholas Sinorov, who in 1914 would have been 22.  Smirnoff was probably in the same age bracket.  This brings the number of group members to three, with four unaccounted for.  Unless some additional material is uncovered, the identity of the remaining four will remain a mystery forever.    

    The common link will always be the personage of Professor Nicholas Sawinski.  When reviewing pictures from Russia with Madame Sawinski, a picture was produced of their home that resembled Versailles.  If they lived in a wing of the St. Petersburg Polytechnic Institute, the picture would be right.  It would also match the Polytechnic at Tomsk since both were built in the same era.  The picture and the language confusion created the problem, since Mm. Sawinski English was good but halting; she spoke seven languages including Chinese.  She was a refine woman bolt upright, kind features, gray hair and always dressed in full-length velvet.  She lived alone after the death of the Professor (they lived at 133 in the living room when they first arrived), then eventually moved into a small house on the property of Eugene Sinorov at Juniper Street in Quakerton, Pennsylvania.  In the 1960 to 1962, the small house was inhabited by a Quakerton High School French teacher, Miss Martin, and her friend, another teacher.  Natalia Sawinski is reputed to have been a most majestic and truly refined woman. How dignified she remained, even in a country that didn't really see that quality as an asset. It is very possible, if not probable that Countess Alexandra Tolstoy, then of New York, was involved in the bringing of the Professor and his wife to America.

    Nicholas Sinorov and his wife were "hosts" to so many Russians making the transition from immigrant to citizen and from Russian to American without ever wavering from a stolid commitment to Russia and the Cossack state of mind.  Even though he was an engineering student, he chose not to pursue a career as such and assumed the profession of technical illustrator.  Was Nicholas Sinorov a Cossack ataman?  Why was his home such a center for people coming and going?  On the third floor of 133, Nicholas maintained a room of boxes full of folders.  These, of course, were private and not for everyone to see.  Along the ceiling were rows of National Geographic magazines.  

    The operations in the room were run by Nicholas Ivanovich Damiskin, supposedly an accountant.  Both he and his wife Polina Polna Damiskin lived in the house.  Politchka was ostensibly a household person, but seemed to be much more.  She had a beautiful singing voice and sang with Lilly Pons.  She had a daughter, Valentina (Valya) by her first husband and eventually married a physician in Washington State in Longview. 

 

Working for a Living

      

    Nicholas Sinorov worked most of his years for Republic Aviation out in the Island at Farmingdale.  Republic was not always Republic Aviation, and the reasons will become very clear.  Republic began as Seversky Aero Corporation making airplane parts in 1923.  It was founded by Alexander Nikolaivich Prokofiev de Seversky, a Russian national and a veteran of World War 1.  He lost a leg when shot down in 1915, and continued to fly by using an artificial leg.  Five months after the Communists seized power, de Seversky became Vice Chairman of the Russian Aviation Mission to the United States.  He immediately made his way through Siberia, to the east, eventually arriving in March of 1918 at the age of 23.  Nicholas Sinorov was now 26.

    Because of his aeronautical knowledge, Seversky was appointed as consulting engineer and test pilot to the Buffalo Aircraft Procurement District of the U.S. government.  This immediately halted his efforts to volunteer for duty in France.  Insistent upon flying, he became a test pilot, and was then assigned to be an assistant to General Billy Mitchell after working with the United States Army Air Service.  When the war was over in 1918, he was free to pursue his established goals, and in 1919, became General Manager, Engineer and a test pilot for the Sikorsky-Hannevig Aircraft Corporation.  His association with Igor Sikorsky was quite rewarding, but in 1922, he, again went on his way.  In 1924, he took the rigorous test of the State of New York and became a Certified Engineer, no easy task.  As a licensed Engineer, he worked with Sperry until 1929 after becoming a citizen in 1927.  In 1928, he was commissioned a Major in the United States Air Corps Special Reserve.  Shortly thereafter, he founded his own company, but it crashed along with the economy in 1929.  Recovering and finding investors, he established the Seversky Aircraft Corporation in 1931 and immediately surrounded himself with Russian engineers.  

    Nicholas Sinorov, in order to support his family, became an employee at Sperry even as early as 1918 when Reginald Gillmore reorganized the New York company at the request of the United States Navy.  Precisely what Nicholas did from 1916 to 1921 is somewhat of a mystery, but there are rumors that he did work for Sperry Gyroscope Company.  Maybe he met Seversky there, because of the gyroscopic bombsite systems being developed at the time.  It is possible, that with other Russians, he and they became friends with Seversky in the early 20s and returned with him to his company, since it was common knowledge that Seversky was recruiting Russian technologists and technical support personnel.  

    In 1939, Seversky lost his company by vote, and it was renamed Republic Aviation Corporation.  Seversky was gone, but Sinorov remained.  He was up at 5am to go to the train station and off to work.  A valued family possession includes an illustration of a four-engine turboprop passenger plane, the Rainbow, that was never manufactured.  It is quite obvious that Eastern Europeans had a knack for aircraft when one applies the names like Sikorsky, Piasecki, Seversky and others.  

 

133rd Street Richmond Hill, Queens, Long Island, New York

 

    133, in Richmond Hill, Queens, was an interesting home and place for a period of Shopp history.  It was sold in the 1960s when the Sinorov seniors moved to Quakerton to live with their son and wife, also Jean (pronounced the same).  Eventually, the area in Richmond Hill became hostile and dangerous, then became a haven for Indian families.  Nicholas and Antoinette tended to their grandson who lived with them during his parents' divorce and attended P.S. 55 Queens (public school #55), now known as The Maure School, 131-10 97th Ave., Richmond Hill.  It is not clear whether Eugene ever attended the school or any other in Richmond Hill.  It is not clear what elementary, secondary and senior schools he attended before entering Columbia University, getting his Tau Beta Pi pin and graduating with a Masters Degree in Chemical Engineering.  It is known that one of his life's most disappointing moments was being turned down by West Point because of his poor eyesight.  He was the commander of his Army ROTC regiment at Columbia.  There is not information as to why he was not in the conventional military during the war, when so many others went.

    Nicholas' and Antionette's subsequent marriage seemed cordial enough, but affection was not widely exhibited in their home; they were known to have separate bedrooms, but this was not uncommon in European aristocracy. He played the guitar, built his own and even added a string to make it seven.  He enjoyed playing the six and seven-string guitars, and Andre Segovia, the noted Spanish guitarist, and he were music friends.  

    Many notables in the White Russian community came to 133.  In the music world, George Balanchine, noted dancer and choreographer, enjoyed their ample dinners and after-dinner dancing and enjoying "paydadnah" with vodka.  Victorine remembered Andre Segovia playing in the kitchen on one occasion.  Antoinette said that she was descended from the gypsies, therefore, she dressed in casual clothing, wore a bandana and gypsy-like slacks and blouses.  She was one of the first women to wear pants, and when she spun around, arms overhead, singing and playing the castanet's, Nicholas would vigorously play the guitar while others clapped and cheered.  With all this merriment, heel clicking, 3-kiss greetings and formal speech, whistling was not allowed in the house.  It was simply too casual, and was not done in proper homes.

    During 133's 50-year history, people like the Poleticas, the gentle and gentile Baron Stanley Koch, Antoinette's long-lost partner in her home beauty shop, Monsieur Paul (lost in World War II as a Russian volunteer in the Merchant Marine), passed time in the friendly rooms.  Other names mentioned with the Sinorovs included Volynsky, Victor Chernov and Galitzine.  Maria Ouspenskaya, veteran actress and writer of Wolfman, taught Gene Sinorov how to play chess.  Antoinette spent time with Countess Alexandra Tolstoy, who passed away in 1979 at 94, on more than one occasion.  It is possible that the Tolstoy foundation, involving Alexandra as well as Tatiana Schaufuss, had something to do with bringing Professor Sawinsky and his wife and poodles to the United States.  Russian Easter and the icons burning for the Czar and for Russian Orthodox saints, the plunking of Nicholas' guitars every evening, and the smells of delicious foods remind anyone with imagination that there was a period of American history that provided room for the culture of another country to survive.  Were they Czarists with the intent of returning as an army?  Were they just interested in returning home someday?  Did the passage of time simply removed these remarkable people from Life's equation?  Perhaps we should assign a yes to each of these, but now what?  

    x

And now?

x

    Russia is now open, we are free to go to Irkutsk, Novosibirsk; we are free to see the churches, the temples, the places of history, the palaces and gardens.  We can sail on Baikal, and we can take the train east or west without incident.  It is a different world now.  It is interesting that the Reds wanted to ship out the Czar to another country, but no one would take him, or his family.  Did any survive?  Conjecture thrives, and those who pursue the truth have more to seek.  The place where the Royal Family was killed now has a large church on it.  Is this a request for forgiveness for killing an impotent leader and follow this travesty with the disposal of his daughters and son?  To this, there is an unequivocal, no.

    The elder St. Jeans are buried on the top of hill in Naugatuck, Connecticut.  Nicholas Sinorov passed away in 1976 and is reputed to be buried in a White Russian compound of some sort in upstate New York.  It is believed his wife, who passed away in Richlanton, Pennsylvania in a nursing home, is with her husband in upstate New York.  Eugene passed away in the late 1990s in a Philadelphia suburb, survived by his second wife Jean whose fate is unknown.  Victorine passed away in 2004, and her son lives in suburban Philadelphia with his wife, two daughters, son-in-law and two grandchildren.  Richland Ellings brother, the last of the three, passed away in 2005 in a small town in Maine, but is remembered here in a way thought to be family.  How close he came.  What if there hadn't been a war to attend?  Perhaps, he would be here today or perhaps recently deceased after a long full life of Americanism.  The Russian Connection is now complete, and where it will go now?  Are the Cossacks reassembling their culture-within-a-culture?  This is unknown, as is most of the future.  Captain Everett Shopp is a distant memory, but it would be unfortunate if we didn't remember the man who started all of this.  Long live his memory.  One of the values of life we all hope for is to be remembered by someone at some time.  

 

Meanwhile

 

    Back in Siberia, some years later, Novonikolaevsk received a new name in 1926.  It would then be known as Novosibirsk and would also be established as an administrative center of Siberia.  As a result, it became progressively more metropolitan, as did those remote towns to the east.  The Trans-Siberian Railroad had opened the eastern Siberian towns and areas, and this increased the movement of western ways to the east.  The Railroad's construction began in 1891 and was completed in 1905. The first train to reach Irkutsk, arrived on August 16, 1898.  The original line began at Chelyabinsk and ran east to Vladivostok, a former military base established in 1860. The Moscow-Vladivostok run is over 5,000 miles, 2000 more miles than a trip from New York to California.  Vladivostok evolved into a naval base in 1905 and, eventually, into a major port.

    Since then, Communist Russia has vanished, and there is hope that it will remain free to all.  Perhaps, even those of this story, will, in some way, if not in reality, be able to travel the past in the present.

 

Gene and Victorine

 

    After their marriage in 1943, Gene continued to work at Naugatuck Chemical, but ended up leaving there.  Through a friend of the St. Jean family, an executive named John Windest secured a position for Gene at Wyandotte Chemical in Wyandotte, Michigan.  The younger Sinorovs lived in company housing, and their son, Gregor, was born in Detroit on September 13, 1944.  After Wyandotte, the family moved to Fairlawn, New Jersey, then to Huntington, New York, then to Aldan, Pennsylvania in 1952.  Shortly thereafter, Gene and Victorine were divorced after a bitter battle, and the Russian Connection was severed, except for one last shred, namely, their son.

    Gregor continued to go to school both in New York and Pennsylvania due to being captured by either parent and ended up in Quakerton, where Gregor left Penn State and went to Philadelphia to live with Victorine and her new husband, a helicopter executive with Vertol Helicopters and a friend of Frank Piasecke, named Norman Raylor.  Raylor adopted Gregor, and his name was changed to Raylor.  The Sinorov (Sinoroff) name had come to a halt.  Nicholas, angry and hurt over the name loss, refused to talk to Gregor at this, and never saw him again, but he did send a scathing letter to him that was personally delivered down a long hallway in the Courthouse by Antoinette.  Victorine let him read it, then ripped it up.  

    Antoinette was in contact with Gregor four more times, once in New York at 133; twice in Pennsylvania, and once while he was stationed overseas in Wiesbaden, German.  Gene called Gregor once in 1976, but only to inform him that Nicholas, at 84, had passed away.  There was never a call about Antoinette.  At this point, unfortunately for all involved, the Russian Connection was finally over.  It was broken, but again the story does not end.  Gregor, now equipped with the Internet, has been able to find immense amounts of information about the times of his grandparents, and the way it was in Russia.  He has been able to piece together much to leave a legacy of facts and fiction for his daughters and their descendents.  He never forgets his mother's statement to him one day many years ago.  "They know who you are."  He thinks about that every once in a while.  Now, they are all gone, and only some loosely assembled stories and a few pictures remain, a reminder that once there really was a Russian Connection.

 

 

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