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An old expression says "there's no such thing as bad travel experiences,

there are only great travel stories."

In Romania, you have a lot of great stories, especially in the 1980s.

I had told the Office of National Tourism, which also meant the Securitate (secret police),

that I'd be writing positive things about Romania

and I wanted to show WWII memorials, things like that.

Clearly, the Securitate had given me permission to come to Romania

under the idea that they'd have glowing, fine, positive articles about Romania.

When I first came to Bucharest, in December 1985,

I wrote to the Hanul lui Manuc and I took a room there,

and when I arrived in the evening at the North Train Station,

I was shocked that the entire train station was completely dark,

and there were thousands, thousands of people running everywhere.

I went to the Hanul lui Manuc, I walked in

and noticed it was colder in the hotel than it was outside.

I was checking into the hotel and from across the room

I saw the cigarette glow of a man sitting there.

He came over and introduced himself: "Are you Mr. Serotta?

I'm Nick Păduraru of the Office of National Tourism."

I felt I was in an Eric Ambler spy story.

He told me he could get me a reduced rate at the Athenée Palace.

"You can stay at the Hanul lui Manuc, but there's some things it doesn't have."

"Like what?" "Like heat."

He was right.

The next day I moved to the Athenée Palace and got to visit the whole hotel,

where journalists had stayed in the 1940s,

when that hotel was center stage for the drama that was Romania.

Being in Romania in the 1980s, whether summer or winter,

you could see the people were suffering.

If you did go to someone's home,

you knew there'd be one 40-watt lightbulb per room,

you knew they were living in apartments that were cold in the winter.

People couldn't afford to eat out at restaurants,

the goods they sold in stores, consumer goods, were...

among the most awful you could even imagine.

Things like toothpaste, shampoo,

I'd go to stores just to look at them, they were awful.

You'd go to a book store and see an entire wall full of books only by Ceaușescu!

This is enough to make anybody depressed.

[Don't Annoy Me]

I was told before I left for Romania "Bring Kent cigarettes!"

I said "People only smoke Kent cigarettes?"

"They don't smoke them, they just trade the packages."

So it was... I wouldn't call it a bribe, it was basically a tip.

You could also bring - if you came from the West,

if you brought some oranges, that would be nice.

Kents in Romania, not individual cigarettes, but the packs,

seemed to be like a currency, so I brought them and I used them.

I was told I'd be surveilled and I pretty much figured it out.

in the summer of 1987 I drove all over the country,

I had someone I'd hired, his name was Eli Epstein,

he didn't mind being with me as a translator,

as he and his family were leaving for Israel after that summer.

Of course I knew someone was following me,

we were driving either in an Oltcit or a Dacia 1310,

and as we drove along these long highways from one city to another

there was always a car behind us!

This was 1987, in the summer,

Romanians simply couldn't afford petrol!

So there were almost no cars, the streets were empty,

but there was always somebody right behind me.

Then I'd check into hotels,

and there would always be someone checking in nearby.

I think what's missing from my photography,

if I were looking at it as an editor of documentary photography,

it would have been nicer if I had visited more people in their homes.

But that, of course, would have been impossible during the Ceaușescu time.

Nobody really wanted you in their home.

A few people did, like Harry and Eva Maiorovici in Cluj,

they invited me to their home, I don't know why, but they did.

He was a composer, she was a survivor of the camps - so was he.

But I wish I had met more people and written down more of their stories.

I went to where they were building the Avenue for the Victory of Socialism.

I was there exactly at the time

when it looked like the Moon, lunar landscape, there was nothing there.

Every old building had been completely torn down

and the new ones had not come up yet.

I'd walk along the city taking pictures,

I remember taking one in front of the Royal Palace in a snowstorm,

with a poor person just walking across the windy, snow-swept street.

I took my camera under my coat and went out

to where they were building the Avenue for the Victory of Socialism.

I could see the cranes and the construction going up.

At one time, when my camera was obvious,

someone walked up to me and asked for the film.

I gave it to him, but I kept another camera under my coat,

so I could continue to take pictures.

There's a wonderful expression by English economist John Maynard Keynes:

"When the facts change, so do my opinions."

When I came to Bucharest, I was convinced

I'd be taking photos and writing about WWII monuments,

of which there are actually very few.

But what I found so fascinating was the Jewish community.

I had no idea it would be that interesting and that I'd find it.

I didn't care what the Securitate thought.

I wanted to do what I wanted to do,

if they wanted to throw me out, they would!

But I'd work as much and as well as I could,

and I would see what happened as we went along.

If one looks back at this from many, many years later,

even if one looks, 100 years from now, back at the 1980s,

and they look at my photographs,

what they're really going to see is a pretty comprehensive view

of what Jewish life was like in Romania in the last years

of the Ceaușescu regime.

I consider it one of the highlights of my life to have spent time in Romania,

to have recorded Jewish life as it was,

to have met people, photographed them and spoken with them.

There's a photograph of a memorial in Podu Iloaiei,

I went there with a friend, Odette Blumenfeld,

because I read the book by Curzio Malaparte called Kaputt.

In that book he describes the pogrom in Iași, where he was at the time.

His landlord had been taken in the pogrom of June-July 1941

and put in a boxcar and taken East -

or was that West from Iași?

Malaparte describes how he and the Consul in Iași

went after the train that the people had been on,

they opened up the boxcars and dead bodies cascaded out of them.

Those dead bodies were buried in a mass grave in Podu Iloaiei,

so I wanted to go there to pay tribute and to take a photograph.

[In memory of our beloved G. Altain, Gherșin Ben Aron,

killed by the Fascist hordes on June 29, 1941

in the Iași death train]

[Edward Serotta's Securitate surveillance file]

Informer Leonte states that between the 23rd and 29th of December 1985

American journalist Edward Serotta will be in Romania.

In collaboration with Service 1 of the Securitate, we will interpose sources near him.

In order to prevent any hostile action, he will be surveilled.

Service 3 county departments will be notified

and instructed to conduct surveilance

to prevent him from contacting rebellious, parasite elements.

He placed his tripod at the intersection of Decebal, Calea Moșilor and Sf. Vineri

and photographed the bakery further up Calea Moșilor

with crates of milk and yogurt bottles stacked in front.

In the market, the target photographed

three stalls selling paprika powder and one selling flowers.

On Colței Street, the target photographed the left-side window

of the Glassworking Cooperative, with a sign reading "Glassworks",

which window contained:

one mirror, one painting of flowers, one wedding portrait.

Our surveillance shows that he has taken photographs

of rundown houses occupied by Gypsies in Dudești neighbourhood.

He photographed a group of Gypsies pulling a cart with a pig carcass,

as "Sergiu" directed and photographed them from various angles.

He continued down Olteni Street,

taking photos in the direction of Vintilă Street,

then photographed some Gypsy children playing,

then "Sergiu" got them to stand together for photos.

We made sure to inspect his room and expose the film to compromise it.

Target "Sergiu" left at 11:40 down Calea Văcărești.

He photographed the demolished area behind the museum

and two young Gypsies to whom he gave one or two 100-lei bills.

Note: between 11:40 and 12:20,

"Sergiu" photographed several features,

such as the building at 55, Mircea Vodă Street,

where he entered the courtyard to photograph laundry hung out to dry.

Upon coming out, he photographed three scantily-dressed Gypsy children.

No. 12, Calea Dudești, a building with shattered windows,

and No. 16, outside which a Gypsy man was looking out at the street.

After photographing the florist's,

he took photos of some street sweepers

and an unidentified woman holding an egg carton.

He did not check if he was being followed,

though while in static situations he did look around intently.

As for the car he rented, Mr. Serotta has commented

that the Oltcit he picked up in Bucharest was malfunctioning,

so he had to replace it with a Dacia

whose brakes broke down as he was going down a mountain pass.

The cars had had no technical inspection and were dirty inside and out.

He reportedly gave a ride to a police agent.

The car horn was broken.

In Botoșani he bumped another car, causing minor damage.

Our investigations show he only stopped once,

before entering Nadeș village,

to photograph the road,

with the risk of immortalising the vehicles coming toward Tîrgu Mureș.

Serotta Edward has said Americans rarely visit Romania

as prices are as high as in France, so they prefer going there.

In Romania, hotels try to imitate Western ones, but fail.

Service is terrible and black market dealers abound,

greatly bothering tourists.

He added that he wonders why meat and petrol are in short supply,

and that he has seen long queues.

He was told that some products have been rationed

to pay off the country's foreign debt, but the supply is sufficient.

The sources sent to accompany him

have made sure he has received information

which accurarately depicts the policy of our Party and State,

as regards national interests and other subjects.

Photos showing the activity of target "Spînu" ("Baldhead")

The target can be described as dynamic, communicative,

perseverent in pursuing his goals; he dresses plainly.

He indulges in alcohol intake.

He is the type of young journalist who chases his objective doggedly

while using every means at his disposal,

from personal charm to leveraging his contacts.

He never leaves his equipment unattended - a professional reflex.

In Suceava, a woman told him her husband admired his beauty

and said he looked just like they imagined an American visitor would.

Of the 8,000 Jews in his native Atlanta, 7,000 work as clerks for Coca-Cola.

Serotta Edward has behaved positively,

making it look like he has come to our country with good intentions.

He does not appear particularly cultured,

but rather superficial, mainly interested in the Jewish subject.

Serotta has called the chief Rabbi "remarkable"

as he leads "a State within the State".

Our source has expressed concern regarding the chief Rabbi,

namely his directing Mr Serotta's attention to the regrettable, but rare incidents

in the Romanian Jewish community.

It is well-known, the source has said,

that Romanians are tolerant of other religions and nationalities.

Serotta has also photographed the common grave in the Jewish Cemetery.

In his research into Romanian Jews,

Mr Serotta has suggested we should make a change

to the Holocaust Monument in Sighetu Marmației.

The plaque reads "Victims of fascism and imperialism".

He suggested removing the word "imperialism",

which bothers visitors from countries that are imperialist, but killed no Jews.

When the pogrom in Iași was mentioned,

Mr Serotta was advised to avoid the temptation

to overstress a singular event

which, though dramatic, is not representative of the good relations

between Romanians and Jews.

No speaking activities were recorded in his room during the day.