Fanny, We Hardly Knew Ye

[Robespierre's Jaw]

Fanny, We Hardly Knew Ye

What if Fanny Kaplan never made an attempt on Lenin's life in August 1918?

Fanya Kaplan. Pictured 1918.

It was just after 10 o'clock when Lenin left the factory. When he came out, workers surrounded him for a moment a few paces from his car. It was at this moment Kaplan fired at him, three times, wounding him seriously in the neck and shoulder. Lenin was driven back to the Kremlin by his chauffeur, and just had the strength to walk upstairs in silence to the second floor: then he fell in pain. There was great anxiety for him: the wound in the neck could have proved extremely serious; for a while it was thought that he was dying. The wounded man's own strength carried him through. Lenin was back on his feet in around ten days.

Kaplan was soon captured by Cheka and executed on September 3. Lenin, although surviving, was crippled by health problems - triggered by Kaplan's attempt on his life until his death in March 1924, aged 54. The course of the twentieth century was changed forever. But it could have been so different.

Kaplan, after spending eleven years in a Siberian prison, was plauged by health problems; partial blindess and constant migraines impacted her daily life. At times she could hardly see; she could hardly move. What if Kaplan had befallen to her own crippling illnesses before her attempt on Lenin's life on August 30, 1918? How would her inaction change the world: for better or for worse?

Only time will tell.

Table of Contents
Prologue: A Disagreement Between Friends

[CathKhan]

Yes! It started!

[Senator Ben]

Looking forward to it

[Andy Jackson]

Wonderful start!

[N.i.K.]

It's about time.

[Robespierre's Jaw]

Washington, D.C.
United States of America
January 20, 1937

I’d arrived at the Club ten minutes about ten minutes early. ‘The General isn’t here yet, sir’ the porter said. ‘But if you’d like to wait in the morning room, I’m sure he won’t be long. Up the stairs, and first right’.

The staircase was of twisting marble, almost too imposing for the size of the hall, like the new President in the White House. As I climbed, I passed portraits of Washington worthies of the past, men with white beards and wing collars, whose gold watch-chains and fobs nestled on swelling abdomens. I first thought on entering the morning room that somebody with a taste for practical jokes had cut the Washington worthies out of their frames and stuck them in chairs all over the rooms. Everywhere heads and necks peered out of wing armchairs, looking at me in the doorway with the automatic approval my suit evoked, and then, with a slight ambivalence, a growing doubt, as they worked out where’d they seen me before - at least in the press. The look of mingled admiration and apprehension followed me wherever I went.

The chairs, which looked uncomfortable, were very comfortable indeed. I sank back and closed my eyes. I was glad to be away from the enduring perspiration and leather smells of Municipal Stadium. Further along, at a table by the window, two old men were nattering about the inauguration. I listened to the rumble of their voices and felt a well-practised hatred begin to flow. It needed only a slighting remark about the courage of the President or Red Europe to rouse him to real fury, and very soon it came. I was aware of something sexual in his anger. The only thing that aroused desire anymore was long-winded critiques of Bolshevism, and self-gratifying admiration of Alexander Mitchell Palmer, I thought with uncharacteristic cruelty.

I got up and began looking at the pictures that lined the walls. The portraits were of President’s, civic dignitaries and professional men of the recent past. When I found a portrait of President Wilson, circa 1915, I was interrupted.

‘Sorry I’m late’, the General said, coming up behind me. ‘I meant to be here when you arrived.’

‘That’s all right. I’ve been kept amused’. I glanced around quickly. ‘I mean the ones on the wall - especially this one’.

The General peered closely. My remark seemed to have gone over his head. ‘Why waste your time with Wilson? It’s not as though he did anything of importance’.

‘He died, sir’.

‘Democrats have a tendency of doing that in the White House, don’t they?’ the General said, with what appeared to be a laugh.

I felt like querying the General, but I didn’t. He hated being critiqued. After all, it’d only happen once this decade. Anyway, more Republicans died in office than Democrats.

The General sat down. ‘Would you like a drink?’ He raised his arm and a white-jacketed, elderly waiter came tottering across. ‘Brandy for me, I think. What’ll you have, Coach?’

‘The same please.’ For a while, we sat in silence. The dining room was almost empty. We were shown to a table for two by the window that overlooked the Potomac. A scent of roses, drenched from the morning’s rain, drifted in through the open window.

The General took an excruciatingly long time to deliberate on the menu. The General looked up. ‘Am I taking too long?’

‘No, take as long as you like’, I said.

‘It’s a soon-to-be luxury, Ike’. He paused; I thought trying to conjure a witty remark. ‘By 1941, even the food will be redistributed. We’ll be crying for middle class welfare!’

‘So long as the President makes sure to redistribute success onto the football field, I can live with that madman in the White House’.

I noticed that the General was stunned. He violently threw his menu and sculled his brandy. With his breath reeking of alcohol, he began gesturing with his index finger. ‘Our President is the most dangerous man in America! He’ll snuggle up to the Communists. He’ll rid of every freedom our forefathers fought for in the War of Independence. He’ll screw us over worse than when he was Governor of a measly southern state. And only the people are to blame!’

The General paused. He called over the elderly waiter and ordered another drink. He began his tirade again. I couldn’t escape.

‘Did you hear what he said? While him, of all people, stood before the Chief Justice; on the east portico and vowed to “protect and defend the Constitution of the United States, so help him God?”
The General took a folded copy of The Washington Post out of his jacket pocket and placed it before me.

‘Read it’, he said; his words stinging of vehemence.

I unfolded the Post and began to read the transcript of the President’s inauguration address. “I promise life to the guaranties of our immortal document, the Declaration of Independence, which has decreed that all shall be born equal, and by this I mean that children shall not come into this life burdened with debt, but on the contrary, shall inherit the right to life, liberty and such education and training as qualifies them and equips them to take their proper rank in the pursuance of the occupation and vocation wherein they are worth most to themselves and to this country.” When I finished, the General looked up at me. It was evident he would only talk once I’d echo his sentiment.

‘Douglas, you’re over-reacting: about Long, about Smirnov, about Bolshevism, about America’s place in the world - every goddamn thing!’

The General’s expression hardened. An awkward silence prevailed. I rose from my chair and finished my brandy. I called over the waiter. ‘Have the porter bring me my jacket, if you can’.

While I waited, the General sat back. He pulled out a cigar and began to smoke; deliberately puffing the smoke in my face. ‘Well, if you’re not going to do anything, Ike; it’ll be the likes of me who will have to pick up the pieces. Even stop it from causing further damage’.
  
At that moment, the porter arrived with my jacket. I eased myself in with the porter’s aid and put on my top hat.

The General paused. ‘I know who I’ll be pledging my allegiances to, but do you Ike?’ I stormed out, down the winding staircase onto the jubilant streets of Washington, wondering why I even allowed Douglas MacArthur to enter my life.

*

Later that night, I found myself wondering the streets of Washington, D.C. It was an aimless wonder, but I had to escape the old drunkard. His words, however, continued to ring in my ears as I walked the darkened streets. Where will you stand, Ike? Where will you stand, Ike? It seemed natural to continue my journey toward the White House. It was the only beacon of light in an ever darking surrounds. It beamed brighter and brighter as I came closer, and once I was finally there I found it impossible not to gaze away.

I pulled out a flask from my jacket pocket, and proposed a lone toast. I bellowed, “To the President of the United States!” Walking away, I was never more confident in the power of the President and the country in my life.

[Andy Jackson]

Red Europe, a fight brewing between the military and the government, a President Huey Long, former President Palmer, Woodrow Wilson dead, all of these lovely little tidbits really paint a nice canvass of just how much the world really has changed the in past 19 years or so because of a relatively small occurrence in history. Keep up the good work, I love the writing style too!

[CathKhan]

President Huey Long? Wonder how the relationship between Ike and Mac will work out and what'll happen.

[Proud Lieberal from Northeast]

You're the Greatest.

Just don't DON'T dare to abandon this!

[CathKhan]

You're the Greatest.

Just don't DON'T dare to abandon this!

[Robespierre's Jaw]

Alright, comrades!

First of all, I'm overwhelmed by the comments. I really am. It's always a nice feeling to be reassured that your work isn't nearly as bad as first thought. I mean, I hardly ever write narratives - uni studies never allows me to. So thanks heaps for the nice words, and the fact you're reading it

Red Europe, a fight brewing between the military and the government, a President Huey Long, former President Palmer, Woodrow Wilson dead, all of these lovely little tidbits really paint a nice canvass of just how much the world really has changed the in past 19 years or so because of a relatively small occurrence in history. Keep up the good work, I love the writing style too!

Cheers, Andy. You can thank the marvel of the Chaos Theory: one event changes all. I recommend that method to everyone. It makes for a hopefully interesting read and heaps of fundamental changes. That said, I hope I haven't given away too much information about the future.

President Huey Long?

Don't be sad Cathcon. I'm sure you'll adore the upcoming updates where he doesn't feature at all, and Red Europe, not so much.

Wonder how the relationship between Ike and Mac will work out and what'll happen.

On both fronts, you'll have to wait and see. Did everyone get the reference that Eisenhower's a football coach?

You're the Greatest.

Just don't DON'T dare to abandon this!

Kal. Firstly, you're too kind. Second, I won't. Though I can't promise when the next updates will be. I have exams and whatnot.

[MAINEiac4434]

Excellent work. Would President Palmer be Alexander M. Palmer, the Attorney General?

[N.i.K.]

Splendid. I can't wait to hear more insight on Red Europe and the rest of the world. I wonder how the Empire of Japan fared.

[CathKhan]

MacArthur just sounds so damn epic in the second update.

[Proud Lieberal from Northeast]

I can't wait for another great update, Rocky

[ag]

Unfortunately this thread ignores the basic fact that nobody shot Lenin's father. Which did not prevent Il'ya Nikolaevich Ul'yanov dying at the same age from, essencially, the same condition. The idea that Fanny Kaplan hastened Lenin's death by any substantial amount of time is simply bogus.

[ag]

As for what would have happened if Lenin lived longer, it's a separate question. I don't think the world would have been any "Redder" long-term. In the end, Lenin was forced to sharply backtrack, reintroducing a degree of private ownership into the economy with the New Economic Policy. Of course, chances are he'd try to get rid of it in time - as, in fact, Stalin did at some point.

Admittedly, had he lived longer, it is a lot less likely that the regime would have been as cannibalistic: he suffered from arteriosclerosis, not paranoia.  Assuming he removed Stalin from the leadership (he wanted to by the end, but was too sick to force it), the regime would, even after his death be somewhat less bloody and more sincerely Red.

However, this would be the difference between tens of millions of innocent victims and millions of innocent victims - at best. Lenin's personal cruelty and lack of human empathy are legendary. The first concentration camps were opened when he was still very much in control. Also, being more ideological than his successor, he'd be at least as likely to single-mindedly pursue policies that would lead to human disasters - as long as these would not endanger his hold on power. Or, perhaps, even if they did: Lenin was more like Hitler, than like Stalin, in the sense that he did believe in his own professed ideology.

 I can hardly see how replacing in Russia of one mass murderer with a slighly better educated and a slighly more mentally stable predecessor would have any dramatic effect on American history.

[Proud Lieberal from Northeast]

ag! You're alive!

[Robespierre's Jaw]

The idea that Fanny Kaplan hastened Lenin's death by any substantial amount of time is simply bogus.

Ag, I'm not doubting your knowledge: you are clearly well versed in Russian history. There's no logic to further debating the matter. But this is, after all alternate history. I'll go even further a suggest the obvious that it's a leftist wank of an alternate history. I thought the idea of a Red Europe and a Trotsky-led USSR would have been enough of a give away.

I can hardly see how replacing in Russia of one mass murderer with a slighly better educated and a slighly more mentally stable predecessor would have any dramatic effect on American history.

It's a marvel known as the Butterfly Effect. Sure, Ashton Kutcher might have given it a bad name, but it's a term, held in high regard among the many patrons of Alternate History Discussion. There are 3 branches of the Butterfly Effect, and I have adopted the fundamentalist approach. One event, changes all. Hence, the election of Huey Long in November 1936, as a result of Kaplan's failure to fulfil her destiny.

[Proud Lieberal from Northeast]

I'm not really sure if we can call Trotsky "saner" than Stalin. While Trotsky was definitively better educated than his rival, he was more a flaming ideologue than practical man, like Uncle Joe.

[Andy Jackson]

Others may make good points about Lenin's rule or Trotsky's staunch ideologial fervency, still this is an interesting TL and hope for many more posts.

[ag]

I'm not really sure if we can call Trotsky "saner" than Stalin.

Stalin suffered from paranoia - Trotsky didn't. So, of course, Trotsky would have killed en masse - but he was a lot less likely to be killing "good communists" and his own relations.

[ag]

I don't really think Trotsky's Russia would have been that much different from Stalin's Russia - or that much more attractive to European leftists.

However, here is a great plot for you. Trotsky, somehow, comes back from Mexico and overpowers Stalin. Tequila replaces vodka as the national drink, surrealism (rather then socialist realism) becomes the official art style. Not sure how about alternative history, but it could be great literature )0

[ag]

As for Trotsky succeeding Lenin: I have doubts. Trotsky was an independent force (he only fully joined bolsheviks in 1917). The rest of the party leadership was, really, Leninist. The reason Stalin found it so easy to overpower Trotsky is that everybody else in the leadership wanted to get rid of him. An anti-Trotsky coalition in the Politburo would have formed in any case after Lenin's death (or even before), w/ Stalin or without. Of course, Stalin's evil bureaucratic genius was essential in Trotsky's defeat. But it is much harder for me to see Trotsky's victory - except, possibly, after another violent eruption or even another civil war. He was too much of an odd element in the very disciplined bolshevik organization to inherit it.

[Robespierre's Jaw]

I don't really think Trotsky's Russia would have been that much different from Stalin's Russia - or that much more attractive to European leftists.

Then clearly you've yet to acquaint yourself with the revolutionary left! They absolutely adore Leon and everything about him: from his incredibly dry texts to his tremendously large train. Unlike Stalin, he vowed to continue with the goals of the revolution; he was anti-bureaucracy and was, of course course, was exiled from the very land he sought to free. If Stalin wasn't a bureaucrat, the same could have been said of him - of any Bolshevik.

Trotsky, somehow, comes back from Mexico and overpowers Stalin. Tequila replaces vodka as the national drink, surrealism (rather then socialist realism) becomes the official art style. Not sure how about alternative history, but it could be great literature

That's an awesome idea!

As for Trotsky succeeding Lenin: I have doubts. Trotsky was an independent force (he only fully joined bolsheviks in 1917). The rest of the party leadership was, really, Leninist. The reason Stalin found it so easy to overpower Trotsky is that everybody else in the leadership wanted to get rid of him. An anti-Trotsky coalition in the Politburo would have formed in any case after Lenin's death (or even before), w/ Stalin or without. Of course, Stalin's evil bureaucratic genius was essential in Trotsky's defeat. But it is much harder for me to see Trotsky's victory - except, possibly, after another violent eruption or even another civil war. He was too much of an odd element in the very disciplined bolshevik organization to inherit it.

I agree with you there. The idea of Trotsky as an absolute ruler, even as a ruler seems highly unlikely. But I was inspired by this and a passage from My Life: An Attempt At An Autobiography. He discusses, in great length, proposed anti-bureaucratic measures, designed to rid of Stalinists. He says, as I quote

(Lenin) planned to create a commission attached to the Central Committee for fighting bureaucracy. We were both to be members. This commission was essentially to be the lever for breaking up the Stalin faction as the backbone of the bureaucracy, and for creating such conditions in the party as would allow me to become Lenin's deputy, and, as he intended, his successor to the post of Chairman of the Soviet of People's Comissaries.

Upon reflection, it's borderline ASB.