Back then, when the Politburo’s most popular sport wasn’t jumping out a window, but racing on gun carriages, the biggest collector in Odessa was considered Boris Philippovich Pozdnjakov. Because he had accumulated the largest number of icons and paintings in the city’s private sector. And to make it seem like that wasn’t enough, I’ll add that he was also a hereditary collector. If there are hereditary idiots and steelworkers, why not have exactly the kind of meticulous people that he was?
The grand collection began with the collector’s father, Filipp Stepanovich Pozdnjakov—whom Boris Philippovich saw twice in his life: the first and the last time. And if you think this guy suddenly caught the love of the beautiful as if with gonorrhea—bought some icon with his last savings and, with trembling hands from excitement and joy, hung it…
When a native Odessan—or someone who has close friends in Odessa—reads Smirnov’s legends, they slide off the couch, whining with laughter and with delight of recognition. Valeriy Smirnov’s entertaining tales about the adventures and misfortunes of noble swindlers, lovely ladies, unlucky robbers, and tough mafiosi have only relatively recently become a reality.