The Sandunovsky Bathhouse, or Sandnny, as it came to be known, owes its place in history lo a romantic story, which originated not in Moscow but in Petersburg  in the late 18th century.

Frequently appearing on the stage of the Imperial Theatre, Sila Sandunov, fell deeply in love. Yelizaveta Uranova loved him too, and soon a splendid wedding was celebrated. The bride’s maid of honour at the ceremony was her patroness, none other than the Empress of Russia, Catherine II. The gift the 'mother-empress' gave to the young couple on the occasion was a suitably grand one, a diamond pendant.

The empress was, however, not the only admirer of Yelizaveta's talent. Vice Chancellor Count Bezborodko showed her most insistent attentions. It is said that the old Romeo presented the young actress with a bundle of banknotes worth 100,000 roubles, but Yelizaveta threw the present away into the fireplace. The infuriated count started to persecute and victimize the Sandunovs, and even attempted to abduct Yelizaveta. As the affair took a bad turn, the young couple made up their mind to move to Moscow.

Finding it difficult to continue their theatrical careers in Moscow, the Sandunovs left the stage and decided to set up a business. Their plan was to build a bathhouse, not just any bathhouse, but the best in Moscow or, maybe, the whole of Russia. It was then dial the empress' gift turned out to be most useful. Sila Sandunov sold the diamonds to purchase a plot of land, to which a number of adjacent strips were added afterwards. In 1808 a magnificent bathhouse was built there that would later make the Sandunov family name famous.

In a good theatre everything should create an atmosphere favourable for the performance, even the cloakroom. The Imperial Theatre actor invested a lot of theatrical imagination into his creation. With the wide marble stairways, ceilings decorated with stucco mouldings, and walls hung with paintings the luxurious Sanduny baths became more than just a bathhouse, but also an exquisite resting place and a kind of fashionable club for Muscoviles. Its devotees insisted that the young poet Alexander Pushkin copied Sanduny in a scene of his poem Ruslan and Lyudmila in which "the young Khzar Prince Ratmir" is relaxing in a bathhouse.

The bathhouse in Neglinnaya Street attracted such Russian celebrities as Field Marshal Mikhail Kutuzov, poet Denis Davydov, and writer Leo Tolstoy. The world-famous bass Feodor Chaliapin would always visit on Tuesdays — going straight into the most expensive 50-kopeck section. His fanatical admirers would follow their idol everywhere — so Tuesdays at the Sanduny tended to be very busy.

The textile manufacturer and publisher Kozma Soldatenkov, known as Moscow's Cosimo de' Medicci for his patronage of literature and the arts, and the millionaire Grigory Solodovnikov, who owned Moscow's largest stylish-clothes shop, frequented the Sanduny. The all-powerful 'master of the capital', chief of Moscow police Vasily Dolgorukov was also a regular visitor to the Sanduny bathhouse. In a separate luxurious room he was provided with silver washbasins and tubs. As if imitating him, brides from wealthy merchants' families assumed the custom of washing in a silver tub in the Sanduny before their wedding ceremony.

It is worth noting that Sila Sandunov himself only kept the bathhouse for a few years, after which it changed owners many times. At the end of the 1 9th century, it was inherited by the millionaires Firsanova. The bathhouse had by that time become rundown, so she handed it over to her husband without much hope for any success. Her husband Gonetsky was a petty nobleman with the reputation of being a great cardsharper. The man, however, turned out to be an enterprising owner. He traveled around Europe to gather information on various national bath cultures, and then hired the architect Freiclenberg to radically renovate the Sanduny. In 1896, a practically new bathhouse appeared in place of the old one. The luxurious interior was in the style of an ancient Roman thermal bath, as well as Turkish baths and ancient Irish steam rooms. There were two changing rooms, one ebony-decorated 'Gothic' room with a mosaic of Vesuvius, and one 'Turkish' room with walls and ceiling inlaid with majolica in Oriental style. Over 400 attendants were employed at the bathhouse. A medical assistant in a doctor's smock would take the water in the swimming pool every two hours, the tests being carried out in an adjacent room.

The water at the Sanduny came from a special water-supply system. An electric power station was also built to cover the bathhouse's needs. Muscovites, at that time unfamiliar with electricity, would stare in amazement at the station.

In 1896 the Sanduny was also helpful in a matter of national importance. The authorities had decided to decorate the Kremlin towers with garlands of electric lamps for Emperor Nicholas II's coronation in Moscow. However Moscow's three existing power stations turned out to be insufficient for the increased demand, and the Sanduny's private power station by Siemens & Halske stepped in to save the day.

After owning the Sanduny for twenty years, Firsanova decided to sell the bathhouse, which had by then acquired a reputation in Russia as well as in Europe. A buyer was found, and the deeds were transferred on October 23, 1917, for 4,225,000 roubles. However three days later the Bolsheviks came to power, and the bathhouse was brought to ruin...The silver tubs were stolen, the expensive vases and handmade carpets disappeared and the marble columns were broken. When the bathhouse was nationalized it was given a new official name, Bathhouse Number 1. The name showed that, despite the revolutionary ruin, the Sanduny was still the capital's best bathhouse.

In Soviet times Muscovites and the guests of Moscow, privileged and unprivileged, could still enjoy themselves in Sanduny. Old men say that even in the difficult postwar years "the water in the swimming pool was as good as in the Black Sea". The superviser was reputed to have been very strict, but as soon as he left the room for a moment, customers would climb up the marble statue of a diving woman and jump off its shoulders — splashing water all over the place. In the bar surrounded by marble columns there stood round tables, and at the counter they would sell vobla (dried fish), sandwiches with caviar, and Zhigulyovskoye beer.

The bathhouse opened at eight in the morning, but you would have to queue for two hours to get tickets. The office would sell out of tickets about fifteen minutes before the opening of the bathhouse, even though the tickets were not very cheap.

It was the height of pleasure to get in for the first steam in the company of the country's best wrestlers and boxers. At that time Russian athletes did not have special bases and rehabilitation centres, though that didn't stop them from winning high-level championships, and the Sanduny was at their disposal in the mornings.

The party chiefs, the cinema or theatre celebrities and other VIPs would, of course, bathe in special rooms, away from 'ordinary folk'. Only the oldest Sanduny attendants can now tell you how many celebrities visited the place in the past. Talk, for example, to Pyotr Grigoriyevich Kulagin over a mug of good beer and he can tell you a story about each of them. There are no stories about the present-day customers, however. The time has not come to remember them.

The times may change, but the Sanduny does not. The traditions of 'the best bathhouse in Moscow' appear to be the same.

Incidentally you should remember one old tradition of the place. After a session in the steam room you should never rush straight into the swimming pool. You should first take off your slippers, pour cold water into the tub, and then, standing barefoot on the floor, pour ice-cold water over yourself without uttering a sound. If you don't believe me ask Varfolomeyich, known as the best masseur at the Sanduny. Most serious guests will never allow anyone else to give them a massage — only him, the light-flyweight boxer, who won bronze at the 1952 Olympics in Helsinki. Old Varfolomeyich knows all about these things.

Alexey Shlykov

(“Moscow today & tomorrow”. November / 2002)