Václav Trojan

“So I graduated in philosophy. In 1969, I went to London; I came from there just yesterday. I was visiting Ivan Hartl, who had already decided to emigrate, so I went to visit him, as you could still do this in 1969. I went to the US Embassy and I applied for university in the United States. They took me in, I had to do the exams, there were some complicated questionnaires, IQ tests and math. I was admitted to MIT, the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, the best IT school in the world. They gave me a scholarship and they would admit me. It left me quite flabbergasted. Meanwhile, there was August 1969, and as you know, there were those protests during the anniversary, they shot a student. Well I don't know whether he was a student, they shot a man, that's a fact. I read about it in The Times and I already had a plane ticket to the United States and I had the scholarship. I went to Heathrow airport, with my passport and the plane ticket, and I knew that it would be a one way ticket, that I wouldn't be able to return. I approached this... I gave them my passport and US visa. It was all set and done. But as I gave them my papers at the airport, something happened to me. I told them: 'Would you be so kind and just give it back to me?' I told myself: 'I can't leave now, after they started shooting my friends and throwing them in jail.' And I was so stupid I just went back home. But there's this beautiful story I have to tell you. As I would go... back then, there were many people who left Israel. They were Polish. As in 1967, there was this wave of antisemitism sweeping through Poland and many young Poles left for Israel, but later decided to live in England. And I would associate with all those Poles. And when I came back, I still kept wondering whether I should go to America. As there was still a possibility. There was even this man who gave money so I could buy myself a new plane ticket. And on this one occasion, it was on Sabbath, I visited this Jewish community. As I can navigate in this Jewish world to some degree. So I spoke to this man in yarmulke and I told him about this situation I was in. And he said: 'Well, If I felt that I had home somewhere, I would go there. So if you do feel that that's your home, just go there. But! Never regret what you did.' And this thing he told me led me even to the Charter, as I would go home indeed. Then they would close the borders. I came back just before they would close the borders. And after that, they all went whimpering that they had no passport, that they weren't allowed to go anywhere. But I came back because I decided to. I had no right to whimper. So I went through this era, knowing: 'I don't regret what I did.' And I never did regret it indeed.”

“Maybe that's an important thing to say, that my father left the communist party after the war. He left the party in February 1948, even before this coup they made. As far as he is concerned, the story went like: 'I stopped paying fees before it all had happened.' And according to these rules, the Communist party could have expelled him if he didn't pay his fees. But at that time, he was already making those films with Jiří Trnka, so they found him useful, so they would pay the fees on his behalf, but it just didn't help. My father said: 'So I went to meet them at the Central Committee, and I went to this reception they had and I said: 'Hello.' - 'What do you want, comrade?' - “I would like to leave the Party.' - 'So that's the second floor for you.' He said: 'So I went there and there was this man, an honest fellow who had joined the Party before I had.' He said: 'What can I do four you, comrade?' And my father said: 'I would like to leave the Party.” Let's make the long story short. And the comrade said: 'What's your profession, comrade?' And my father knew that this might be a problem. So he said: 'I arrange stuff.' - 'And what do you arrange, comrade?' And my father answered: 'When there are potatoes, I'm arranging potatoes. If there's coal, I'm arranging coal.' Which was true, as we did burn coal, we had potatoes stored in the cellar and when coal men would come he would help them. And the comrade said: 'So you are a carrier.' And my father said: 'Well yes, I'm this carrier of sorts.' He tore the Party membership card and threw it into a bin. My father said: 'In the evening, I already had this call from [Vítězslav] Nezval and I don't know who, Dobiáš maybe, as Nezval was his friend and he was quite close with Dobiáš as well. So that's how he managed to leave the Party, and later, when sending postcards from holidays, he would sign them: Václav Trojan, a carrier of music."