Soviet Union Rock 'N' Roll, Mounting Toll

By John Greenwald

The sounds of rock 'n' roll blared through Moscow's Olympic Stadium last week as some of the Soviet Union's most popular bands belted out their hottest numbers. Tickets for the three-hour event, styled after Western charity extravaganzas, raised about $150,000 for victims of the devastating accident that destroyed a reactor at the Chernobyl nuclear plant on April 26. Money from the benefit, known as Account No. 904, after the special Soviet fund that received the donations, will help provide clothing, household goods and temporary shelter for the 92,000 people evacuated from Ukrainian towns near the dangerously radioactive plant. Last week's event featured laser beams, smoke machines, a henna-haired singer named Alla Pugachova and bands with names like Autograph, Kruiz and Bravo.

While the pop performers entertained the crowd of some 25,000, the condition of many radiation victims worsened. Dr. Robert Gale, the UCLA bone-marrow specialist who has been assisting Soviet doctors in Moscow, reported that the death toll from Chernobyl had reached 23. Twenty-one of the dead were among the 299 fire fighters and plant workers who had been hospitalized after the accident. At Moscow's Hospital No. 6, where most of the gravely ill are undergoing treatment, Chief Radiologist Angelina Guskova told the Soviet news agency Novosti that as many as 80 victims remained in "extreme danger." According to Gale, "thousands" of Ukrainians could suffer radiation-induced cancer in the future.

The plight of the stricken gave rise to tensions between U.S. and Soviet doctors. Guskova said last week that the Gale team, which included two UCLA colleagues and an Israeli specialist, was unaware of some recent diagnostic advances. Said she: "That's what comes of self-reliance. It's a pity. They are excellent specialists and could have been of much more help." Replied Gale, whose group assisted in 13 of the 19 bone-marrow transplants that were administered to the sickest victims: "We have worked together very successfully." However, eleven patients who underwent the risky marrow transplants have reportedly died.

The Soviets continued to try to link the Chernobyl disaster to the dangers of radiation in a nuclear war. In Cologne, Yevgeni Chazov, a Soviet surgeon and Deputy Health Minister, warned that "the accident proved that medicine will be helpless if even a few nuclear bombs are detonated." Along with U.S. Surgeon Bernard Lown, Chazov received the 1985 Nobel Peace Prize on behalf of the International Physicians for the Prevention of Nuclear War. Chazov's remarks, delivered before a meeting of the organization, drew a sharp rebuke from members of Chancellor Helmut Kohl's Christian Democratic Party, which supports nuclear power. A spokesman called the physicians' group a "Soviet- steered propaganda forum."

In Moscow, Soviet officials released new details of the accident. Yevgeni Velikhov, vice president of the Soviet Academy of Sciences, conceded that the 25,000 evacuees from Pripyat, the town nearest the plant, will probably never return to their homes. Velikhov said that while radiation levels have dropped sharply about 40 miles from Chernobyl, extensive decontamination measures will be needed to make the immediate vicinity livable. He said the shattered reactor core, which is being entombed in concrete, remains hot beneath the 5,000-ton pile of sand, lead pellets and boron that helicopters have dumped to seal in radiation. Said Velikhov: "I would not like to create the illusion that all our problems are over, but I think that now we do not need to expect any unpleasant surprises."

Soviet newspapers last week were full of fresh reports about the Chernobyl accident. A story in Pravda, the Communist Party daily, quoted the eyewitness account of a control-room worker who described hearing two loud explosions and then seeing a fireball rise above the reactor building. Many stories strained to find positive details to hearten readers. Pravda, for example, cited evidence that life continued in the wake of the accident: "The nightingale concert over Pripyat goes on both night and day." Yet, in a demonstration of disdain for Western-style rock, Soviet officials did not publicly announce last week's concert for the evacuated residents of the Chernobyl area. Muscovites learned of the benefit by word of mouth or from a smattering of street posters.

With reporting by James O. Jackson/Moscow