Svetlana’s defection to the United States was world news. I flew from California to be with my parents and sister Joanie at John F. Kennedy Airport in New York for her arrival on April 21, which was kept secret until the last minute. Our parents were whisked off to be part of the official welcoming committee standing on the tarmac, while Joanie and I were seated on the high balcony of a building with a more distant view of the scene. I was astounded by the tight security and especially by the sharpshooters on top of neighboring buildings.
I tingled with excitement at the dramatic sight of this red-haired, young-looking woman coming down the airplane stairs, escorted by a man I later found out was her lawyer, Alan U. Schwartz. She went up to the waiting microphone. “Hello, I’m happy to be here,” she said with a big smile.
The press could not get enough of Svetlana. Her dramatic defection, newly found religion, abandonment of her two teenage children and her condemnation of the Soviet Union were all grist for the mill. After an initial news conference at the Plaza Hotel in Manhattan, she refused all interviews and was guarded on Long Island by a police car parked outside the Johnson home and by two private security men. Her inaccessibility made her even more like catnip to the media.
A few months later, Svetlana’s friendship with Priscilla Johnson came to an abrupt end, an event that foreshadowed the pattern of most of her relationships. My father renewed his invitation for Svetlana to stay at the farm for the summer.
However, since he and my mother would be making their annual summer trip to Norway, he asked Joanie, who was living in nearby Princeton, New Jersey, to be her hostess. Joanie, a natural caregiver, agreed with enthusiasm to this assignment. She and her husband, Larry Griggs, with their two boys, Brandon and Barklie, lived with Svetlana for six weeks. Joanie and Larry took her on expeditions, and Larry barbecued on the warm summer nights. Joanie cooked and cleaned; she bought Svetlana clothes.
Svetlana thrived on all this love and attention, and she and Joanie became good friends. During the daytime, Svetlana worked on her voluminous mail and her new book. But after a while, Joanie and Larry, who had received an assignment with the Peace Corps, had to go into training, so my father recruited me to take care of Svetlana for the remainder of her stay. Joanie called to request an additional favor. “Would you mind also taking care of Brandon and Barklie?” The boys were then ages 6 and 8. “They won’t be any trouble; they’re used to the farm and will play outside all day.”
At the time of these requests, I was knee-deep in children’s problems, volunteer work and the challenges of dating Jack, all of which required me to stay put in San Francisco. But as a former Russian history and literature major, the opportunity to get to know Stalin’s daughter and to have an inside glimpse into historic Kremlin politics was priceless.