Eyewitness: The Moth Radio Hour

This is the Moth Radio Hour.

“I'm Meg Bowles, and in this show we have stories of rulings, verdicts, and decisions.”

A school board versus a children's book, a battle to allow black students to enter an Arkansas High School and a man exiled to a Soviet labor camp.

Our first storyteller Toby Price is an educator in Mississippi.

He shared his story at a main stage event we produced at the Alamo Theatre in Jackson. Here's Toby Price. [APPLAUSE] I was spinning the rack looking through the comic books that I wanted to buy before my dad paid for the gas. And he walked up to him and he said, "What you got there?"

And I said, "Well, I got a few books I can't decide on which one's to get." And he said, "Get 'em all." See, when I was little, I used to think that reading was boring. But it turns out it wasn't boring. I just needed to practice.

And my dad figured out to give me to practice. He needed to give me the books that I wanted to read. Captain America. The Avengers Spider-Man. Y'all love Spider-Man.

Spider-Man was a nerd just like me. He was smart. I was smart. He married way out of his league. So did I.

He could climb walls.

“I tried too many times and it didn't work.”

But all of that reading helped me become a better reader. It helped me decide what I wanted to do when I got, you know, grow when I grow up. I wanted to be a superhero. But sadly, I don't think I would look as good in the tights as they do. So I did the next best thing.

If I wanted to be a hero, I decided to go to school and become a school teacher. [applause] And like most folks, as soon as I graduated school there, I was running a local restaurant here in town. [laughter] I enjoyed it.

I had regulars who would come to me every day and I had one regular in particular who showed up one day with a friend. And she and the friend started speaking to me and turns out the friend was a principal in nearby elementary school. She said, "I have a job for you.

It's with the first grade class."

I said, "Well, hmm." Okay. I did all my training with fourth grade. She said, "That's not going to be a problem.

“All you have to promise me is that you just won't quit."”

And I went and met the class. And after spending about 10 minutes with these friends, I learned what happened to the first two teachers. They were now I would call it challenging. But every day when I walked into that room, I wasn't going to quit.

And I thought about what my second grade teacher used to tell us that everybody has something to contribute. And I thought that about my class as well. They taught me so many things. They taught me to be patient.

And they taught me to most of all see the value in every child. And I didn't know it at the time. But they were shaping the type of teacher I would become. But most importantly, the type of parent I would become later on. Fast forward, about seven or eight years in time.

And I have one to three kids now. My two oldest are autistic. They were diagnosed at an early age. My oldest is nonverbal. My son, my middle child.

He's a little more verbal. We weren't planning on having the third. And I asked God, you're giving us the third child. Give me one to talk, God. And he said, all right, watch this.

First thing she was born.

We always tell folks she was four going on 40.

And I was going to do with them the same thing that I, my dad did with me. And I was going to share some of my favorite books with them. So with my son, we got out the Spider-Man comics. And he loved Wonder Woman.

Hmm. With my youngest, she was a reader. I got out Harry Potter. And she loved reading about the Titanic and World War II and nonfiction. But that was okay.

Because we did find some books that we really enjoyed together. I had heard about a book on Twitter where I talked a bunch of my teacher friends. And it was called "I Need a New But" by Don McMillan. It was a picture book for kids. And I found a copy of the local Walmart.

And I read it to my kids and they loved it. Every second of it. I need a new but followed by I broke my butt. My butt is noisy. Yes, my personal favorite.

And most recently we were at the Walmart and we found a copy of my butt is so silly. And we all kind of clamored over who was going to get the grab it off the shelf and read it first.

And we laughed and we giggled because kids need those silly books. Those funny books.

“That's what hooks them into being readers and becoming readers.”

Well, let's fast forward from that time to read across America week. Dr. Seuss' birthday.

I was an assistant principal in a school and my boss asked me to set up a zoom meeting with 12 second grade classes.

And a principal of a nearby building who would be there principal next year. I got you. No problem. So almost 12 classes logged into the zoom and I was the host. And I looked at my watch and our guest reader was not there.

I looked texture. No answer. I called. Nothing. I told my boss what had happened and she said you go ahead and read.

So I turned them around and looked at my shelf. And there was I needed to hook these kids. I needed them to laugh. I was going to grab. I need a new butt.

My dog McMillan. And I did.

“I went through and I showed them the pictures in the book.”

And I read the story to them. And they howled when they saw the little boy slide down the banister and think that he broke his butt because it was a crack in it. They giggled. They giggled when they saw him trying to sell his dogs who afford to buy a new butt at the local store. And y'all they were rolling when he thought about what if I had a rocket butt that could blast me into outer space.

After I finished the story, I saw some of my friends in the hall and they come up and they said, "Mr. Price, we love that story. Thank you so much." We feel good. Made my heart grow nine sizes that day. And then I was called to the principal's office. Even when you're a grown-up, that's no fun getting called to the principal's office. And my principal, she told me, "Mr. Price, we have talked about that book that you had today.

I don't know if it was the most appropriate book, some parents may complain." And I said, "Well, that's not a problem. I'm so sorry. If someone complains, I'm more than happy to talk to them and apologize." And she said, "Okay, okay. We'll have to talk about it some more later." So yes, ma'am.

I left her office and about 15 minutes later, I got called back to her office because the superintendent wanted to see me at the district office. And I drove to the district office on the other side of town and walked into the building in the conference room with the superintendent and assistant superintendent. And y'all they let me have it because I chose this book.

Is this the kind of thing you find funny? I said, "Yes, before I came here, yes." That day, they sent me home suspended with pay pending investigation because parents are going to call. Two days later, they called me back out to the district office.

Y'all not was a nervous wreck anyway. I've never been in trouble like that before with these folks ever.

They called me back to the district office. And they did came to a decision and said, "Mr. Price, we just can't get past this. I just can't get past why you chose to read this book. It was poor professional judgment and because of which we're terminating your contract effective immediately."

And I froze. I'm a dad of kids with autism. We don't sleep at night. We just worry with our eyes closed on a normal day. And you know how am I going to pay for therapy?

Medicine, bill luxuries like food, lights and water. They told me you could sign this resignation. And we can part ways.

“Or you go home and think about it and decide if you want to appeal this.”

You'll have to find an attorney and we can start an appeal process. And they left me in the room. And I called my wife. I told my wife what had happened. And she said, "We've been married 21 years.

If you were wrong, I would tell you you were wrong. But you weren't wrong. So you're not signing that resignation." Thank you. She said, "Pick your head up high.

Don't let them see you cry and walk right out of that building and come home. And I did just that. I picked my head up high. Didn't let them see me cry and drove right down the street to the dollar general for a box of little Debby zebra cakes." [laughter]

That's true. If you're going to eat your emotions, there's no better way than little Debby zebra cakes. Well, after that, my wife and I found an attorney and we began the appeal process.

Yeah, I've never been in trouble before.

So this is all new territory for me. But they wanted the appeal when a little bit like this. We had an expert witness come to say that reading kids' silly books

We have evidence of other books' objection.

“We have affidavids from other educators' objection.”

See a pattern? [laughter] I learned some interesting things that day that I did not know. Like the superintendent had no idea who Shell Silverstein was.

He had never heard of no David.

He had never heard of a cow to caught a ward. Or worse off, my wife grabbed my leg and she never heard of Captain Underpants. [laughter] And most importantly, that day I learned that not one parent complaint was submitted into evidence. Not one.

The second day of the appeal was a lot more arduous than I expected. They, it was my turn to testify and they got to ask me questions. And they all but accused me of being a liar, a thief, and a pedophile. It was a terrible, terrible day. The whole process is still ongoing.

And just stopping and thinking about it now makes me really sad.

“I had a friend who came to my house and told me, "Dude, after what happened?”

I took Walter the farting dog off my shelf and took it home."

He's the second great teacher.

I know. And it made me think that, wow, this is a big deal because teachers like him and teachers like me, they're not going to read those fun silly books to kids, like we want them to. And kids need those books, not just because they're hilarious. No.

If you can hook a child with the funny and the silly books and make them think, "Wow, I want to read that." They'll stick around and read more and find out all of the wonderful things the books can be. Besides just funny and silly. Some days as a teacher, you feel like Captain America. You're up there, smile in high five and change in lives.

And other days, you're like Peter Parker sitting in that tiny broken down apartment, managing your wounds, literally and metaphorically and emotionally. Wondering, is this all worth it? Am I even making a difference? Why do I do this? And you do it because it is the hardest job in the world.

And it's the best job in the world. And now, while we wait for a decision, I'm grateful that I get to sit at home with my three friends. We're reading some Wonder Woman, some Titanic. And my oldest is developed to love for Harry Potter, Lemony Snigit, and Spider-Man. And I get to share those books with those kids today.

Thank you. That was former teacher and elementary school principal Toby Price. On April 28th, 2022, the school board voted to uphold his termination. There were two votes for, one vote against, and two members who were up for reelection abstained. The ruling cited that Mr. Price was fired on the grounds of incompetence,

neglective duty, and for good cause. According to the appeal ruling, and I quote, "The book depicts images contrary to what the Harrison County School District teaches children." HCSD teaches children to keep their pants up and wear a belt. No sagging pants like the man on page 21. We work really hard to get children to understand that your bottom is your private part,

“and that it is not something you should be out in public sharing.”

Toby says he feels like he's mourning part of his life that will never be the same,

but he is committed to keep fighting. And he's just released his own children's book, the almost true adventures of Titus The Monkey, and is currently working on the sequel. I asked Toby what his children thought of the ruling, and he said his youngest daughter said, "Dad, at least you stood up for something.

I always knew you'd stand up for books in school. I didn't think it would be that book, but still." Coming up, a story from the front lines of de-segregation in 1959, when the Moth Radio Hour continues. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts.

This is the Moth Radio Hour, I'm Meg Bulls. In 1957, nine black students were enrolled in Central High School in Litterock, Arkansas.

The story made headlines across the country, and images of the National Guard blocking black students

“from entering the school were featured on every news outlet.”

President Eisenhower issued an executive order, commanding that the National Guard support the integration efforts. The nine students, who later became known as the Litterock Nine,

were finally allowed to enter the school.

But over the course of that academic year, they endured violence and threats. Governor Faubis continued his fight to stop integration, and in September of 1958, he signed an act that rather than allow black children to be educated with white children, closed all of the high schools. When the schools finally reopened in August of 1959,

“our next storyteller, Dr. Sybil Jordan Hampton, then 15 years old,”

followed in the footsteps of the Little Rock Nine and became the only black student in a class of 544 white students. A note to listeners, when Dr. Hampton shared the story of her experience, she quoted some offensive language that was used against her. From a main stage, we produced in partnership with Seattle Arts and Lectures,

here's Dr. Sybil Jordan Hampton. In 1982, I lived and worked in New Russia on New York. One day, I got a letter from the Little Rock Central High School, class of 1962, inviting me to participate in the 20th reunion. To put it mildly, I was shocked.

Because over those 20 years, I had never heard anything about a reunion,

had heard nothing for my classmates, and to be perfectly frank, I had no desire to go into that school again or to be with those people. But this letter presented me with a challenge and an opportunity, as I thought about going back to the scene of the crime. During 1958, the Little Rock Nine encountered many trials and tribulations.

I was aware of what they encountered because I saw things on ABC and BCCBS, read articles in National Magazine and in our local newspaper. I was aware of the harassment bullying, the physical violence, and at the end of all of this, Governor Orville Fabers declared that the 1958-59 school year would not be,

and he closed all three high schools in Little Rock. Many in WCP, Legal Defense Fund, was very active in pursuing this matter in federal courts.

And there was finally a decision that the schools would reopen in fall 1959.

And I, along with four other students, who were selected to begin the school de-segregation yet again. As a following junior high school student, I walked every day with my friends to our all black junior high school, laughing and talking, and we went right in front of central high school most days.

But on that first day that I began high school, my father stayed home from work and after breakfast he prayed, and he prayed for me to be calm, to be brave,

“and to remember that the Lord was my shepherd and would take care of me.”

And then I waited for Reverend Jay of Henderson and his son Frank and Sandra Johnson to come and pick me up, so that we could drive the six blocks from my house to Little Rock Central High School. As we drove, there was just no talking in the car, and I wondered what's going to happen. And I also wondered how it was going to be for me because I was going to be alone,

and that was not another black student in the 10th grade, and I was 15 years old. When we got to the school, we looked out and there were no crowds, and the press was not visible.

And as we went along this really lovely winding sidewalk to the steep stately stairs to the school, it became clear that from top to bottom there were Arkansas National Gorgeman standing.

“And I thought, are they here because they're going to have to come into the school to rescue us?”

And I was very, very frazzled as I walked up those steps past all those Arkansas National Gorgeman wondering, if they really would be willing to protect us. At the front door we were met by the principal, Mr. Matthews, and by the assistant principal, Mrs. Elizabeth Huckabee, she and only she greeted us very warmly. We went to her office, she explained our schedules, gave us instructions on how to move around the building,

and would be taking us to our home rooms. There was no one in the halls because we did not come to the school until after the school day had begun.

We went to my home room on the first floor in the northeast corner of the building,

“and as we got near the door, I noted there was a door to the outside,”

and I thought, okay, and it was really a second nature for me to look for an escape route. My home room teacher was at the door. She pointed me to my seat in the middle world. We were all seated alphabetically, and I knew that she wasn't going to be my ally. When the bell rang for the first class period to begin, I was more than apprehensive, because I was going to be in the hallway with all these students for the first time.

And I was alone, and I was 15 years old. My parents had reminded me that as I went out into the hallway, that I needed to hold my head up, that I needed to be very aware of everything that was going on around me,

“but that I always needed to look straight ahead, and I should never cry.”

As I went down the hall, I cleared this echo, and the echo was a negative coming. There's a negative coming, and then the students moved to the sides toward the wall, and they cleared a path so that no one was near me as I walked along. This only went on for a week or two, and then it stopped. But what happened is that no one looked at me, no one smiled at me,

and no one recorded me positively. In my home room, the same home room for three years, the only time in the student in that room ever heard my voice was when it was my turn to read the Bible after the pledge of allegiance to the flag.

I always read Psalm 21 as a witness.

I will lift my eyes to the heels where once comes my strength, my strength comes from the Lord who made heaven and earth. It was striking to discover that over three years nothing changed. That I was actually shunned, we were shunned. And I felt that I was treated like a ghost, but most of all, treated as if I didn't matter.

So when May 1962 came around, I was really ready to dance a jig. I was so happy because the goal we had was to be successful as students, and to be successful in staying the course, and also to demonstrate that as foot soldiers, that we were very proudly standing on the shoulders of the warrior Little Rock 9. There were 544 people in my graduating class, and I was the only black student.

Graduation took place in Quiddly Stadium, which is the football stadium.

I had never been in Quiddly Stadium because by law, we were not as black students,

permitted to attend any activities.

That evening, only our parents could come, no family or friends,

“because they felt there might be violence. It was just me.”

But there were police ringed around the outside and in time. I walked across the stage, and as usual, there was just silence around me, and then some wise acre guy yelled out, "There goes black beauty, and I thought, from first to last, only insults." As I sat down, the students around me were talking about graduating,

and they were talking about whom they were going to miss, and I thought, "Not a damn soul." I'm not going to miss anybody, and I certainly don't plan to be here in this space ever again in my life. And then I am in 1982 with the slatter inviting me to the 20th anniversary. And I talked to my parents about it.

“And I said, "I really think that I need to go back to see what has happened,”

what is it like."

And I told my parents, "I want you to come and go with me because they could never come into the school.

They were not permitted to come into the school." And so I said, "I want you to see this cast of characters who are around me." But also, I just want to have this moment that you can be in that building with me. And so I flew from New York, and I said, "We'll just go to the banquet. There were some other activities."

And the banquet was in the school and the cafeteria. We arrived, and we were met at the door by a guy from my home room who had never spoken to me before. And this was true, everybody else in the home room.

“And he said, "Hi, I'm so glad you're here, and I'm responsible for you being invited.”

I wanted you to come." He said, "But everybody else in the class is uncomfortable. And so they will not sit with you and your parents." And I was, I was, there was a part of me that was really quite... I was kind of what the hell am I paying?

And my parents gave me the I. And so we proceeded to go in and to sit with Ron. But during the course of the dinner, students came over.

And some students said that they really regret it, never reaching out to me.

And other students congratulated me on being very brave to come to a place where people had treated me as if I didn't matter. And they didn't want me. And I thought that's an understatement. Okay. I did get an award that evening for being the most educated.

[applause] But I had failed to note that there was going to be a sock-op. [laughter] And some of the people who had been friendly to me were very insistent that I needed to come to the sock-op.

Stay for the sock-op, because during the course of our time, it's central we had never had the opportunity to...

Together. And I'm thinking, "But my parents gave me another I." And so I stayed for some of the sock-op. And actually it was okay. But I was very fatigued.

And so we went home early. On the way home, I was talking to my parents. And I said, "When we first arrived, what I was reminded of is that you can pass laws, but you can't legislate things of the heart." And that which matters to me and that which makes me matter as a person has everything with things of the heart. And that, rather than getting stuck there, I also learned this wonderful lesson about the power of one.

And that was that Ron was with us, and he gave others an opportunity to be less cowardly. But I also thought, "Okay, as a result of all of this, I have learned that roses do grow in concrete, and that I have to have the strength to keep looking."

A master's degree in elementary education from the University of Chicago and a master's in doctorate from the Teachers College, Columbia University in New York City.

“She then went on to have a career as a higher education administrator, a leader in philanthropy and as a political advisor.”

In 1996, Dr. Hampton moved back to Little Rock to serve as president of the Winthrop Rockefeller Foundation, which focuses on racial and social justice. Since returning to Little Rock, Dr. Hampton has become more involved with Little Rock's central high class of 1962, she's attended other reunions and has recently been helping out with the planning for the 60th, which she will be attending. Dr. Hampton now refers to Ron Hughes, who she mentioned in the story and his wife Catherine as dear friends. You can find out more about Dr. Hampton and any of the storytellers you hear in this hour by visiting our website, TheMoth.org.

Coming up, Soviet prison camps, the KGB, and a mug shot when TheMoth radio hour continues. TheMoth radio hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Wood's Hall, Massachusetts. The Moth radio hour is produced by the KGB since 2013. We're starting the journey here. The biggest advantage of Shopify for me is that we don't need any technical information for ourselves. We all know about the background and the front end.

“If your Shopify is ready, then the platform will be the most important thing for you. This is the Moth radio hour.”

I'm Meg Bols and our final story comes from Victor Levinstein. He shared it at an evening we produced at the Walter Curth Theatre in New York City. Here's Victor, live at the Moth. In the spring of 1944, in the Soviet Union, when I was 21 years old, I was arrested by the KGB and brought to the main political prison in the Soviet Union. The infamous Lubyanka prison in Moscow. A bunch of people in the uniform of KGB made me face the wall, slip searched me, cut my hair, took my finger prints, and then, with hands behind my back, I was led to a joining groom.

“There was an old-fashioned wooden camera on a tripod. In front of this camera was a chair for the prisoner being photographed.”

The photographer took a picture, then chair was turned, the second picture in profile was taken and I was led out of the room.

Then, then they interrogation started. Together with 12 of my friends, I was charged with conspiracy to assassinate Stalin. It was absurd. Nobody even thought about plotting to kill Stalin. Our real guilt was that we were well educated and smart youngsters. We read about and we read good books, including American. Hemingway, folk, their Steinbeck, and we learned from this book that there was a free world behind the border of our country. There are free people out there and that we live in the closed, the Italian state.

Free thinking, free talking, were crimes in the Stalin Soviet Union, so I found myself in the Lubyanka prison. I was taking to a tiny cell for by five feet with no windows. The sleep was prohibited by the daytime and the questioning was going on the whole night. Under this sleep deprivation and under the halo of courses and threats and insults, seven of my friends confessed in plotting assassination of Stalin. It was not the best time of my life. It all.

After sleepless days and nights, I was in the same conscience state. My wheel was always broken and I confessed, but I confessed only in being an anti-Soviet person.

Being an engineer in student at the time, I lied that I am an engineer.

“And this lie saved my life because it based me valuable for them. So, I survived and five years later, in the spring of 1949, my prison term was coming to an end.”

A couple of days before my release, I made Alixair Krafsov. He was a senior worker designer and I had met him before in another prison. He was a nice guy. A couple of years, maybe older than me, smart, energetic business like the former military pilot, a captain.

I convicted for some misconduct. He was not political prisoner.

And because of this, he was given this job in fact a camp commander deputy.

“And he lives in separate tiny room and stuff, the barrack. He invited me to celebrate my release.”

We ate talk and at one point he said, if I would like to see my personal file, he had taken it out of the office in because my order for my release has been issued for the next day. And my file, there was my verdict and the mach shot made in Lubanka prison, face and profile. The picture gets loose from the from my file and needed to be glued back in. I look at the picture. It accompanied me on all my journey through three prisons, three transits prisons, three labor camps. I just feel that I wanted to have it badly. And I asked Alixair, if he would give me a photograph.

“I was thinking, asking the photographer in the camp. I knew him. Maybe he can make me a copy and I said that original I will return to him.”

And Alixair said, where are you crazy? Who can make your copy? It's a official photograph. For this copy, this guy can have a new prison turn together with me. But that's it. I said, let me try. Let me try and I promise you that I will bring you the picture back in the end you went.

First thing in the morning. So he gave me the picture, the photo. I ran to photographer, but no matter how the right to persuade him to make a copy he refused, it was too dangerous.

In the morning, after the signal to wake up, I ran to Alixair to return the picture. Gluster of people were standing at the entrance to his room. I made my way through the crowd. Alixair was lying in bed, faced down the pillows and sheets were red with blood and the axe was sticking out of Alixair. A lot of hardened criminals were staring at the time in the same camp. I was thinking about the poor Alixair. Just a few hours ago we talked about our future life on outside sitting on the very bed where he laid there right now.

And I realized that I still have the picture. And I decided that my file will manage without it just why. But the problem was how to smuggle it out of the prison. I knew that they will search me very carefully before my release. So I developed a plan. The water supply. The water supply to camp was brought in in water tank trucks. And I knew one of a truck driver. So I gave him the picture and arranged to take it from him. I got it from him on outside after my release. And the plan worked and I got my picture. After five years in prison camp, I was sent to exile for life.

There was no safety, no settlements, nothing. The only big construction site nearby. So I was allowed to leave there.

“I had good job at this construction project, but there was no hope to continue my education to get engineering degree to return to normal life.”

Four years, four years in my exile, framed the cosmic forces intervened in my fate. Stalin kicked the bucket.

He died. People was warning, but for me, spring was in there. And after soon after his death, the general evidence was announced in my exile was over.

I came back to Moscow, and at this time, Stalin was still laying in Mausoleo, and I wanted to see him in the coffin.

“For me, Stalin was a personification of all evil. I knew that millions of people of innocent people were shot. Millions died in labor camps, murdered by heart, backbreaking, work and hunger and cold.”

I was thinking about my father, who died in the labor camp behind the polar circle. Scored of my friends and relatives with the same destiny, nine years of my life. I just wanted to see him in the coffin. When I saw him, Stalin's appearance disappointed me. I was expecting, I was expecting to see the devil, Lucifer. But in front of me, in glass coffin, laid very ordinary, moustacheed man with low forehead and popped bark at face.

“But the point was not his appearance, but the fact that I saw him dead in the coffin.”

By life, in after Stalin death, it was still, Soviet power was there, and KGB was there. And living in Moscow, I had strange feeling from time to time that my free life was contemporary or something. Especially, I felt that when I walked close to the KGB headquarters in Moscow, and I had this feeling that I belonged there. And it's fact that I'm working as a free man because of somebody's oversight and sooner or later they will catch me.

We migrated to the United States in 1980, and this feeling disappeared only when I first time walk on Florida Beach.

And so they're athletic. I told myself, look, the ocean is between me and KGB. I am finally safe. When we immigrated, the country was still the Soviet Union, and I knew that all our belongings were checking very carefully. And I didn't have even hope to take my precious Lubyanka Magshad with me. It was illegal. It was property of KGB. So I left the picture with my cousin, a couple of years later. I received the elevator with Belgium address. My KGB photograph was in the letter. My cousin, an avid stamp collector, met Belgium stamp fan.

That Stalin has been dead for 69 years, and I am still alive.

This summer, this summer, in three months, God willing, I turned 100. What do you imagine, my shock and frustration, at this passage of my life, seeing as a former KGB officer, being president of Russia, and just deadly war on Ukraine? I was born in Ukraine. I was born in beautiful southern city of Nikolayev. The best time of my life, my childhood, I spent in Ukraine.

“And I see it. I see it was going on as a KGB man trying to bring free Ukraine back to the prison camp of the Soviet Union. My heart is with brave men and women of Ukraine, and that's why I decided to tell you this story.”

Thank you. Thank you. Victor Levinstein was born in Ukraine in 1922. He immigrated with his family to the US in 1980 at the age of 58 and started a successful career designing underground mining machinery and received three US patents.

“After retiring, Victor wrote two books in Russian and recently published a book in English entitled 13 nasty little snakes, the case of Stalin's assassins.”

Victor says, as a seven-year-old, he was lazy and his parents insisted he read. That's when he found the three musketeers and understood that reading was one of the greatest joys of his life.

As he got older, he would read and exchange books with his friends, which led him to discovering a world beyond the Soviet Union, which eventually made him a threat to and target of the KGB. Recent polls now show that the popularity for the Russian dictator Joseph Stalin, who was responsible for the deaths of millions of Soviets, is rising again.

“Thanks in part to his greatest admirer, the former KGB officer, Vladimir Putin.”

To find out more about Victor and how you can support the people of Ukraine, go to our website, TheMoth.org.

That's it for this episode of TheMoth Radio Hour. We hope you'll join us again next time. This episode of TheMoth Radio Hour was produced by me, Jay Allison, Catherine Burns, and Meg Bowls, who also hosted and directed the stories in the show. Co-producer is Vicky Merrick, associate producer Emily Couch. The rest of TheMoth's leadership team includes Sarah Haberman, Sarah Austin, Janes, Jennifer Hickson, Kate Tellers, Jennifer Birmingham, Marina Cluchay, Susanne Rust, Brandon Grant, Inga Glidowski, Sarah Jane Johnson, and Aldi Kaza. Most stories are true as remembered in a firm by the storytellers.

Our theme music is by the drift. Other music in this hour is from Epidemic Sound, podcast music production support from Davy Sumner. We received funding from the National Endowment for the Arts. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. Special thanks to our friends at Odyssey, including Executive Producer Leo Rees Dennis. For more about our podcast, or information on pitching us your own story and everything else go to our website TheMoth.org.