Peter Chikhachev Biography

In the beginning of the X studied at the Higher Literary and Art Institute, which at that time led V. Fate brought the poet with S. Yesenin, V. Mayakovsky, E. Bagritsky and many other poems of that time. In the end of the x, on false denunciation, he was arrested. From a long stay in places of imprisonment, the Great Patriotic War saves. Chikhachev is sent to the Leningrad Front.

Having received a serious injury, he is demobilized. Peter Vasilievich arrives in Novorossiysk in the year. He meets and for many years remains on friendly relations with Kuban writers and poets Ivan Varavva, Vladimir Monastyrev, Georgy Sokolov.

He works in the city newspaper Novorossiysk Worker. Chikhachev passed away on August 8. Karl Marx, where Chikhachev lived and worked in recent years, a memorial plaque was installed. By the summer of the poet’s birth, she was replaced by a new, from black marble. This work from black marble with the face of the poet was performed by sculptor Alexander Suvorov. The opening took place on September 10.

It is not easy to tell about this man how it was not easy for him to live his difficult life. Pyotr Vasilievich suffered the severity of unjust accusations, and “was killed near Leningrad,” as he himself wrote about the wound, after which he was alive only thanks to the miracle created by the military surgeon. He was a Chonov in his youth and built the first metro, froze in the north, was friends with the sailors and fishermen of the south ...

Peter Vasilievich was born in the suburbs, in the working family. His youth, which came in the years of the revolution and the Civil War, forever preserved romance and deep faith in justice in the soul of the future poet. He saw Lenin when the leader of the revolution came to the Lyubertsy factory of agricultural plant. Giants like Bryusov, Yesenin called him into poetry.

It was then that Peter Vasilievich will write small memories of Sergey Yesenin. And then there were meetings, there was ordinary human friendship, which continued for many years the same friendship with Yesenin's sisters. It’s a pity, they didn’t save a gift in endless crossings: when Peter Vasilievich left Moscow, Yesenin gave him an old sofa with carved legs, upholstered in beautiful fabric - so that the young poet was comfortable in the restless house.

Says N. Chikhacheva: -Imalo, Peter Vasilyevich and I laid out in Beli Light. Wherever we go, everywhere we need to fill out the questionnaire. And Peter Vasilyevich had a peculiarity: he did not hide anything. And therefore he pointed out to the personnel officers that he was judged as an “enemy of the people” ... Naturally, they completely refused a nearby. So Peter Vasilievich took for the black, hard work.

And he was a loader, and went with fishermen to Putin. Once, even a teacher worked in a dormitory of a fluke, where former prisoners lived. And then he helped many of them get to his feet. Once it was a year before Stalin’s death in the company, one woman told a joke about the leader. It was reported to it, and at the same time called to the investigator and Pyotr Vasilyevich. They shouted at him there, you, they say, at the same time, sat in and continued ...

Then you figured out that Peter Vasilyevich had nothing to do with it, but this case made this case heavy. Where to get the strength from? And he quit again, went into the road craftsmen. Even after rehabilitation, we felt distrust. The editorial office of the city newspaper was treated well to Peter Vasilyevich, but someone from above recommended that it would be better to do without a former “political” one.

As if the stigma of indelible was put on a person. He tried to hide his hardships from me. Sometimes I didn’t even say that I was left without work. And his friends supported him: “Novorossiysk worker” printed his poems. Of course, I felt how hard it was for him, but he managed not to become embittered. Perhaps that is why Peter Vasilievich retained such responsiveness to a person that grief himself washed.

Loss, loss ... But there is something else. There are books, photos. There are letters of Yesenin’s sisters, with whom Peter Vasilievich was associated with tender friendship, sincere, without stretching, related relationships. Many pages of the life of our fellow countryman, poet and journalist Peter Chikhachev, can open up an unexpected side. And they must find their researcher.

His literary work, the years of repression, the war in which Peter Vasilievich participated on the Leningrad Front, in the sapper battalion. He did not run away from anything, he expressed everything. What prevents us from giving us, finally, the due person who left a good mark on himself? Memories of the Novorossiysk poet Peter Chikhachev about Sergey Yesenin.

On September 1, on the day of the opening of classes, a literary evening was held at the institute, to which Sergey Yesenin and Nikolai Aseev were invited. Students, mostly children of railway swimmers and laundresses, textiles and metallists, gathered from all over the country to study in Moscow. The craving for knowledge among working youth was huge. Yesenin read at the evening “the blue fire was swept away”, “You are as simple as everyone”, “Darling, we’ll sit next to it”.

He read a few chants, but very strongly and expressively.His eyes flashed the flame of inspiration, his voice increased to a dramatic sound, then fell to quiet sadness. The poet made a very strong impression, and he was applauded for a long time and ardently. When the literary evening ended and the poets tried to go to the stairs, they were surrounded by an enthusiastic crowd of students.

Three months after that, the students of our institute, who lived in a hostel on the corner of Domnikovskaya Street and Kalanchevskaya Square, decided to invite Yesenin to visit. The meeting with the poet took place in Bryusovsky Lane on Tverskaya Street Gorky in the apartment of a wonderful woman, a participant in the civil war Gali Benislavskaya.

Yesenin did not boast of his glory. He willingly accepted our invitation, promising to call on the next Sunday. I recall another meeting with Sergey Yesenin. This was June 6, on the day of the flight from the birth of A., Moscow writers gathered in the house of Herzen on Tver Boulevard, and then headed to the monument of the great Russian poet. On the way to us, many youth and the old Moscow intelligentsia, who sacredly honored Pushkin, joined us.

The literary rally was discovered by Professor Sakulin, a representative old man with a sailor gray beard. After the performance of the famous Pushkinist Professor Cyavlovsky, the word was given to Sergey Yesenin. Having filled his hat, he began to read poetry dedicated to Pushkin. Then he laid a large bouquet of fresh flowers to the foot of the monument. In the summer of the year, Yesenin and I went on a train to Lyubertsy, where I lived with my mother, the former foundry of the Lyubertsy factory of agriculturalism.

From hard work and a joyless life, she had taken away her legs by the age of 40. A man of a large and generous heart loved our laborers very much. He perfectly expressed this son in the famous poem “Writing of Mother”. Seeing my mother for the first time, he kissed her, and then when we went for a walk in the city garden, he told me: “Why don't you send mom to a good hospital?” Can't you arrange?

Do you want me to help you? We walked along a shady linden alley and talked about something. Suddenly Yesenin stopped, grabbed my hand and said in a interrupting voice: -I am going to Moscow ... -Why so soon? Lead me to the train and apologize to my mother that I did not go to say goodbye. And a few days later, on a bench in the garden of Herzen's house, he read new poems to the Kachalov Dog.

Once, the secretary of the Moscow place of writers, I. Novkshenov handed me a short note. It wrote: “I agreed with Professor Kozhevnikov. Take Mom at the Semashko Shcholes hospital, 8. The last time I met Sergei Yesenin at a literary evening in the Press House, now the central house of journalists. It was at the end of September. I remember that Alexander Zharov, Ivan Molchanov, Jack Altuzen, and I and one of the young people made reading at the evening.

Sergei Yesenin should have acted, but he was late. He arrived by the end of the evening. He looked displeased, his face was pale, his eyes are red, swollen. He read very sad verses: “Flowers tell me, goodbye”, “Maple you are my fallen, maple icy,” “You don’t love me, you don’t regret it.”