Table Of ContentPIGEON'S LUCK, which reads with the pace
and suspense of a thriller, is the extraordinary life
story of one of the most successful artists of our
time.
The adventures of Vladimir Tretchikoff, whose
lithographs are said to out-sell even those of the
Mona Lisa and hang in literally millions of homes
throughout the world, began at an early age. Born
in Russia, he grew up in Manchuria and, at the
outbreak of the 1939 war, was working for the
Ministry of Information in Singapore. When the
Japanese attacked, he was suddenly separated
from his wife and young daughter, and a few
weeks later found himself drifting in an open boat
through the Java Sea: his courage, ingenuity and
luck contributed decisively to the survival of his
companions. His subsequent capture by the
Japanese, solitary confinement, interrogation by
the Secret Police, release on patrol and the strange
seances in which his spectacular career was fore
told in detail, make enthralling reading.
After the war, reunited with his family in
Cape Town, he struggled against misfortune and
ill-will until his fame began to spread through
South Africa, Canada, the United States and
Britain (where nearly 205 000 people visited his
first exhibition at Harrods). In all, over two and a
half million people have flocked to forty-three
international exhibitions to see, discuss and buy
his pictures and to fulfill the predictions made so
many years before on the remote island of Java.
£3.50 net
The Russians are a superstitious people, and
one of their beliefs is that a bird can bring good
luck. On a number of occasions in Tretchikoff's
career, especially when things have been going
badly, a pigeon has arrived as if by magic.
Suddenly all his problems have seemed to solve
themselves.
This fascinating story is illustrated with some of
Tretchikoff's most famous and controversial
pictures and not least of the book's many attrac
tions are his accounts of the strange stories which
lie behind so many of them.
Anthony Hocking is an Englishman, born in
1944 and educated at. Monkton Combe and
Christ Church, Oxford, where he spent most of his
time rowing. After several years' globe-trotting in
the British Merchant Navy he settled in South
Africa in 1968, and for two years wrote features
for The Argus in Cape Town.
It was as a journalist that he first encountered
Tretchikoff. He was so entertained that later he
gladly seized the chance of collaborating with him
on this book. It has involved him in a fascinating
detective hunt for information, tracking down
sources on five continents and in twenty countries.
Anthony Hocking has now quit journalism to
devote his time to serious writing. He has a small
clutch of books behind him and plans for many
more. His work involves him in a good deal of
travel, but his home base is Johannesburg.
Pigeon's Luck
Pigeon's Luck
VLADIMIR TRETCHIKOFF
and
ANTHONY HOCKING
COLLINS
St James’s Place, London
1973
William Collins Sons & Co Ltd
London • Glasgow • Sydney • Auckland
Toronto ‘Johannesburg
To Natalie, my wife,
who says that life with me is one moment in heaven,
next in hell hut mostly in purgatory
JSEBINGTON PUBLIC LIBRARIES
No.
249629
' o|"73
C I C- I
First published 1973
© Vladimir TretchikofF 1973
isbn o 00 211335 x
Set in Monotype Bembo
Made and printed in Great Britain by
W & J Mackay Limited, Chatham
Illustrations printed by the Westerham Press
Contents
Part One: the Japanese attack
] Goodbye to Natalie ge 7
2 Escape 25
3 The Giang Bee 30
4 Open Boat 38
Part Two: java
5 Capture 69
6 Solitary Confinement 82
7 Life in Djakarta 114
8 Red Jacket 126
9 Secret Police 146
10 Journey to Nowhere 163
Part Three: the west
ii The Lucky Pigeon 174
12 Turning Point 185
13 America 209
14 Canada 221
15 A Home of Our Own 230
i6 London 254
17 Around the World 260
18 Envoi 274
Acknowledgements 281
CHAPTER I
Goodbye to Natalie
I woke up to the thunder of explosions and a humming drone that filled
the night air. Natalie was sitting up already, staring at me in fright.
‘What’s that?’ she asked.
‘It’s war,’ I said.
‘What war?’
‘Darling, the Japs have arrived.’
It was quarter past four in the morning, December 8, 1941. The arri
val of the Japanese heavy bombers over the city took Singapore com
pletely by surprise. We all thought the nearest Japanese flying bases were
six hundred miles away, in Indo-China. The idea that we were vulner
able to blitzkrieg had no more occurred to us than that Singapore island
would sink into the sea.
Singapore was caught with its pants down. All the lights were ablaze.
There was no blackout of any description. The authorities wanted to
disconnect the electricity but could not find the man w th the key. In
any case, the street lights in Singapore were all gas burning, and had to
be turned off by hand. And the warning that Japanese aircraft were
approaching Singapore had come only half an hour before they arrived.
The sound of the aircraft filled the skies: a heavy reverberating hum
that came as a shock to those of us who had basked in peace while the
rest of the world was at war. The din was punctuated with the blast of
the bombs: heavy, shattering explosions that rocked our house and the
crockery on the shelves.
Mimi was awake and crying. Natalie hurried through to comfort her.
Our old Chinese nanny was with her already. Amah was devoted to
Mimi, even sleeping in the passage outside her room to make sure she
came to no harm. I lifted aside the mosquito net and went to the win
dow. The trees round our house hid most of what was going on, but I
could see the thin beams of searchlights playing in the dark sky. Now
and then they picked out the shape of some fat-bellied bomber, one of
the scores dropping their deadly cargoes.
My friend Valentin came in, a Russian like ourselves. We had known
him in Shanghai and he had been staying with us for some months. To
gether he and I stood silent as we watched the battle outside. At last
7
