And what is not written or talked about even today, not even on such a famous anniversary. Which really surprises me.
It is said that, on the recommendation of Soviet experts, the original concept of an underground tram was abandoned and a full-fledged subway was built. How would we also cross the Vltava under the surface, or rather underwater? Although this increased investment costs, the quality of transport and its further development also increased. Another positive was that the builders disappeared from the face of the city, almost. Of course, they could not disappear during the construction of stations and other surface facilities, but this prevented the demolition of many buildings.
When construction on the Pankrácká plain began to be planned almost a hundred years ago, the binding regulatory plan at the time included not only the construction of the Nuselské bridge, but also the future underground tramway. That is why Nuselák was already planned with a floor for double-track traffic. At the same time, a future highway was also planned, which was therefore not built. The underground tram was supposed to lead here. We have a subway, but the problem was that when the Nuselský (formerly Gottwald) bridge began to be built after long decades of planning in 1967 (according to a project from 1962), the tube was only dimensioned for that tram. Well, now I learn from current articles that due to the fact that the subway trains were supposed to travel here, the tube had to be reinforced with a steel grate, which distributed the weight of the passing trains into its walls. An ingenious solution, without which the bridge would have to be demolished and a new one built, or the metro would only be able to run here in limited traffic. But that wasn’t because metrocars were supposed to run here instead of trams, but because they were Soviet metrocars after all.
The fact that a full-fledged metro would be built instead of an underground tram was already decided at the beginning of 1968. The Prague metro is therefore a fruit of the Prague Spring and not of the occupation and subsequent normalization. I neither hear nor read this today. (Wiki only.)
Soviet experts were invited as experts. (At the same time, some people could already “recommend” the subway.) The fruit of the occupation is that Soviet heavy-tonnage wagons were imposed on us. Since 1968, the ČKD Tatra Smíchov company has been developing cars that Nuselák could carry especially for the already built bridge. In 1971, two prototypes of Tatra R1 units were available. But at the time, pro-Soviet collaborators were already at the head of socialist Czechoslovakia, and they put down their heels so that the Mytiščín Engineering Plant would get a great deal and the Soviet Union and world communism would get more credit. After all, the Russians similarly supplied their cars to all countries that were tied to the Soviet Union by the Council of Mutual Economic Assistance (that is, to those that had subways).
And what is not talked about is the condition in which the Soviet cars arrived. In a real Soviet state, conceived back in the thirties of the 20th century. According to Soviet electrical standards, which are perhaps even worse than American ones. When our technicians opened the electrical cabinets, they stared in amazement at the tow that formed the electrical insulation! Although the Russians modified their cars for the Prague metro, which they produced for the Moscow metro (that is why they were also called EMS), were only able to go on the track after the Czech fitters had changed the Russian (almost still Tsarist) electrical installation.
All this information is known, but it probably does not fit into the celebratory tone. I took the subway to work myself and it saved me time. First only with a three-car set (May 1974-August 1975), then a four-car set, only from February 1979 in the full glory of five cars. They finally closed the dangerous hole next to the platform as I ran up to the last door of the last car.
I would like to remind you that there were no cars in the set, each car had a driver’s cabin at both ends, which unnecessarily took up space for passengers. But glory, already fifty years ago, Áčko had three-minute intervals in peak hours.
I wrote “control cabin”, not “driver’s cabin”, as it is incorrectly written today, because the subway does not have “drivers”, but “drivers”! It’s not a tram that you don’t even need a license to drive; every metro train driver must meet all the relevant criteria for “rail transport”.
Our family from the metro had one more benefit. One of its important functions was the protection of the population from nuclear bombardment. As part of this, multi-storey underground food warehouses were built near Náměsti Hrdinů station. And they were administered from a nearby above-ground samoška. (Today only a part of it remains, where the confectionery is operated.) We lived nearby in Na Veselí street, which tram number 18 passed by, right behind the Pankrák prison. When I was returning from work by subway, I used to shop here. And there used to be real surprises here for those gray times. (Perhaps a lens:) And that’s because when the expiration date of the foods in the anti-nuclear shelter was approaching, they were thrown into the racks by those lone women.
Well, for this glorious anniversary, I originally wanted to post my celebratory subway poem that was published in an almanac that covered the phenomenon. The almanac contained other works from the pens and typewriters of the members of the volunteer association Maryša, which at the time operated under the protection of the Jonáš club (which itself operated under the protection of the international Phonoclub), but I have not dug into it in my archive (several cabinets) yet. If I meet him, for example, in the Memorial of National Literature, then I will introduce you to my masterful (or rather apprentice) creation. Now you have to settle for just this inglorious text.
Written in Prague, Lužiné, on the golden route B on Tuesday, May 7, 2024
