Michael
Jackson slept there. Vladimir Lenin harangued Bolsheviks there. Over
the past century, the Hotel Metropol
has seen the extremes of Russian life, from austere revolutionary
fervor to flashy pop indulgence.
Now,
at a starting price of 8.7 billion rubles ($272 million),
the hotel is up for sale Thursday, auctioned off by the
Moscow city government as part of its privatization program. That's
expected to go higher — in steps of 435 million rubles ($13.6
million) — and where it will stop is anybody's guess.
"It's
hard to tell what's justified" as a final price, said Tatiana
Tikova, the director of the valuation department at the Colliers real
estate brokerage in Moscow. Officials haven't released the names of
the prospective bidders, but news
reports say Azimut and Khorston, two major
Russian hotel chains, are expected to be among them.
Situated
catty-corner from the Bolshoi Theater and an easy stroll from Red
Square, the location is prime for any guest who wants to feel in the
very center of the city's heaving action.
It's
one of Moscow's most distinctive buildings as well, a cheery Art
Nouveau confection in a city where buildings
mostly seem to glower. Although at six stories it's one of the city
center's more low-rise structures, it stands out with sinuous curves,
friezes of women en deshabille and bands of brightly colored majolica
tiles. Several elaborate mosaics top the building, the most noted
being Mikhail Vrubel's "Princess of Dreams," showing a
dying knight sailing through acrashing sea
to a vision of his beloved.
Then,
there's the historical cachet. When it opened in 1901, it was a
paragon of Russians'
growing prosperity and confidence, but 17 years later took on a far
different role. When Bolsheviks decided to move their government from
St. Petersburg to Moscow, the hotel was appropriated to
become the Second House of the Soviets.
A
large plaque on the exterior notes
that in 1918-19, Lenin "many times gave reports and speeches at
sessions and party congresses" in the hotel and
chatted there with members of the "prodotryad," armed
squads of workers who forcefully appropriated food from the
bourgeoisie. Another plaque commemorates a 1921 meeting in
the hotel that resulted in a friendship agreement
with Mongolia.
In
the chaos of World War II, the Metropol became home and office for
almost all the foreign journalists allowed to
work in the USSR. "Gloomy and cavernous,
Mother Metropol was like a college fraternity house" during that
time, Whitman Bassow wrote in his book "The Moscow
Correspondents."
The
auction winner will get all that, but won't get
the hotel's elaborate array of antique furnishings and paintings. How
much of that might be available for separate purchase is unclear.
Natalya Bocharova, head of the city property department, said this
month that an array of objects from the hotel will be turned over to
museums.
The
furnishings are a major part of the hotel's appeal. Jackson, during a
1993 stay, reportedly was so enamored with a lamp featuring a bear
figure that he agitated unsuccessfully to buy it. Despite its storied
history and reputation, hotel review websites suggest the Metropol's
rooms often are in need of spiffing up. Tikova said privatization
should ensure the hotel gets an upgrade.
