Pavel Chalupa

* 1963

  • “The worst thing I experienced was on 28 October 1989, on the anniversary of the republic, when they pushed us up to Hotel Europe and launched a massacre there. They dragged us out of the crowd by our hair. ‘Who was that shouting!?! Who wants freedom?!’ And they chose people accordingly. They dragged me by my hair as well. My police agent had an American Parker, he was a secret cop, robust, ginger beard, I can still remember him. The buses were parked so that no one could see from the outside, they formed a kind of courtyard. He grabbed me by the hair and mashed me against the bus, I had blood on my face, and I fell to the ground. I was lifted to my feet by a uniformed cop with a helmet, who kicked me in the butt, shoved me against the bus, and gave me several welts on my back with his truncheon. Every cop had his own prisoner, whom he beat and held by the scruff. Suddenly, their boss came running up from above, helmet on as well, and yelled: ‘Franta, Jirka, Pepa, come with me!’ My one let go of me, and I slowly drifted away. I saw Kuba Špalek in a crack between the buses, with his fist clenched, showing he was with me. I managed to escape the trap. All I know is that they beat them up proper and then took them out into the forests somewhere and left them there without their documents. They had to go for questioning and then sign a statement.”

  • “The students’ activity was incredible. We immediately set up various departments, independent sections, it was very structured. The sit-in strike actually gave functions to people from individual classes. We had – I can see it here – a strike committee, a financial department, a dispatch bureau – that was for dispatching student delegations, which travelled outside of Prague, on so-called ‘beauty rides’, to tell people what had actually happened in Prague. Back then Czechoslovak Television, Radio, and the press were still all under the influence of the ideology of the Central Committee of the CPC, and the misreported the situation in National Avenue, they didn’t report the truth, it was greatly distorted. The regime tried to hush it up of course, but what with the theatres joining in – I can’t actually imagine now how we managed it, there were no mobile phones, nothing, all the communication was through state lines, the witnesses remember they awful double lines and triple lines; but the phones to the theatres worked, and people phoned from schools, from theatre offices – we managed to get the theatre network up and running, and that enabled the truth to get out to people, about what actually happened. The travel groups were organised in the dispatch bureau, where they’d always give the address, where to go to, whom to go with, who was in the team, they got things to take, pamphlets and so on. Then we had an economic department, a reception – the school had to be guarded, there was a constant threat of militia or police incursions in those first days, then guards, staff – mostly girls on hand who wrote down, implemented our decisions, then the kitchen, the production at DAMU [the Theatre Faculty - trans.], the coordination, press, and information department; someone was at The Disc for long-distance correspondence, Michal Čech and his so-called Čech Chamber were in charge of posters and banners, then promotion and education. We were able to set up a system immediately. It only took two days.”

  • “When I came out at the National Theatre as one of the audience – I wasn’t on the stage, that was really brave of the actors on the stage. And when I came up there and started to read, there was applause after every sentence. People had suddenly broken through the barriers of that we can finally start expressing what had been kept suppressed within and dampened by the regime the whole time, we had kept it inside like a pressure pot, so now we can let it out. I was almost too moved to speak. There was an enormous energy and power to it. I could see that they wouldn’t be afraid to show solidarity with us, that the public would join in. It was also connected with the anthem. Then I was invited to the National Theatre, where Boris Rösner organised it every evening. At first the way it was, was that the declaration was read out, there was applause, we sang, and then off home again, but gradually the evenings started turning into public debates, where the issues of society were discussed. People from the Civic Forum were invited as well, who were already given posts. I remember Miloš Zeman’s speech, in which he asked the people whether the answer should take ten, twenty minutes, or an hour, and he then responded accordingly; or I remember Valtr Komárek – those were powerful moments. The people chanted: ‘Zeman for president! Komárek for president!’ All of the speakers were always to be the president.”

  • “I didn’t know anything about the occupation. I remember that all we did in Varnsdorf was to exchange belts and cartridges with the soldiers for beer, which was good for us. When the boys came, the soldiers, sovetskaya armiya, they gave us badges, and that was enough for us and our games. That was our contact with the Russian, or rather the Soviet army. I remember how one time when I was walking with Mum and a colleague of hers down the main street – called Stalin Avenue, how else – I suddenly pointed: ‘Look, the Ruskies are there!’ The colleague gave me a slap, said those weren’t no Ruskies, but Soviets! That’s how muddled people were.”

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    Praha 2, 04.12.2017

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    duration: 04:12:24
    media recorded in project Stories of 20th Century
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We knew we didn’t want to live in it any more, we had had enough

Pavel Chalupa, 18.11.1989.JPG (historic)
Pavel Chalupa
photo: současné foto: Ivana Čepková, dobové foto: Originální videjournal

Pavel Chalupa was born on 31 August 1963 in Teplice as the second of three children. Both his parents and later his elder brother were Communists. After attending primary school in Varnsdorf, he trained as an electromechanical technician and then completed an evening course at the Secondary School of Electrical Engineering in Prague. Throughout the time of his training, studies, and apprenticeship, he longed to become an actor, and so he sought out artistic environments; he worked in dubbing and as a film extra. He also had the opportunity to act at the factory club of his employer, ČKD Semiconductors, where he led and directed an amateur theatre group. Later, he worked as a student actor at the regional theatre in Uherské Hradiště. After two failed attempts, an appeal finally gave him a successful application to study at the Theatre Faculty of the Academy of Performing Arts in Prague (DAMU) in 1986. During his studies, he was one of the politically active students - he took part in demonstrations against the regime, public debates, protest petitions, and in spring 1989 also the dissolution of the Theatre Faculty’s branch of the Socialist Youth Union. On 18 November 1989 he actively participated in the formation of the school’s strike committee and the declaration of a student sit-in strike to a gathering of theatre employees at the Zdeněk Nejedlý Realistic Theatre in Prague, where he read out - as the first student to do so in public - the Declaration of DAMU Students as a Call for a Protest Strike. From the outset of the revolution, he was a prominent member of the strike committee; he participated mainly by organising the so-called “beauty rides” (after the eponymous excursions of Hussite fighting bands outside the country in the 15th century - trans.) outside of Prague, in which students and celebrities brought news of events to factory workers etc.; he also participated in the discussions with audiences at the National Theatre that replaced regular performances. In 1990 he concluded his studies at the Theatre Faculty and started his first professional acting roles. Besides acting, he later also worked as a director, dramaturge, scriptwriter, manager, editor, and producer in television, film, radio, and dubbing. He founded the global Romani festival Khamoro and the Jewish culture festival Nine Gates; he is the author and implementer of the Lusting Train project, the founder of the Centre for Genocide Studies in Terezín, and the co-author of the Magnesia Litera literary award. Pavel Chalupa lives and works in Prague.