Last month, as I was walking through the parking lot to my office, I wondered, “Whatever happened to Mathias Rust?”
There was no significant provocation for this. No one was running a “history of punk-rock Cold War pranks” or “I Love the ’80s” special. It was just the idle maunderings of this brain of mine.
For those of you who don’t remember herr Rust, here’s the skinny:
In 1987, a certain someone flew a little Cessna plane into Moscow and landed it in the middle of Red Square. The Russians immediately arrested the 19-year-old German pilot, and threw Mathias Rust into jail for an 8-year sentence. He served 18 months before getting out.
The damage to the Soviet rep was done, though. There are some who read this act to mean that the great Soviet military wasn’t All That, and that Gorbachev’s double-whammy of trying to keep up with Reagan’s SDI initiative and getting hit with Rust’s merry prank were the kickers that led to Glasnost.
The rest of Rust’s story is filled with some lowlights, but he’s supposedly living in Berlin with his 2nd wife, and maybe he’s got his house in order. There’s a website called “Whatever Happened To” that relates stories like Rust’s, a service for which I’m quite appreciative.
I wonder how tough it is to live a normal day-to-day after your crowning achievement comes at the age of 19. I mean, since I live in my hometown, I used to wonder this about some of my high-school classmates, who kinda epitomized Springsteen’s Glory Days.
But it’s one thing when that achievement was making a great touchdown catch, and another thing when you’re known for pantsing a world superpower that was devoting 25% of its GNP to its military.
I hope he’s living pretty peacefully, maybe having a kid or two, and getting them ready for flight lessons.