EDITOR'S LETTER

The story broke in February 1965, and just like that, this magazine became a geopolitical footnote in the history of the Cold War. But that wasn't the beginning. Twenty-three years earlier, in February 1942, we published a letter that foreshadowed our tick in the spotlight. It was sent by W.G. Drummond, a subscriber in Washington. With his letter, he included an editorial from the Seattle Times.

"There is a publication that comes to hand at regular intervals that one may well hope will never fall into the hands of the enemy," the opinion piece begins. "It comes from Arizona and it concerns Arizona. This is why no one would wish to have it fall into the hands of an aggressive enemy: The illustrations are so beautiful, and they disclose Arizona as being a land of such charm and enchantment, that any hostile power would be likely to make Arizona an immediate military objective."

That never happened, but Arizona Highways did end up in the iron fist of an aggressive enemy. More than once. The first time was in East Germany. We got word from a reader in Tucson.

"For several years I have been sending a subscription to a friend in the East Zone of Germany," Bella Hubbard wrote in our May 1955 issue. "He and his friends in this little town behind the Iron Curtain enjoyed the beautiful scenes and descriptions of our wonderful state and it made them forget their troubles. Even the village postmaster would sometimes hold back delivery of copies for a day so that he also could look at the pictures. Although it lacked any reference to politics or ideologies, Arizona Highways was doing too good a job of promoting international goodwill in areas where such instincts are not wanted by the Kremlin. So, about a year ago, Arizona Highways was placed on the 'verboten' list, and all of my friend's copies were confiscated and probably burned by the censors."

Ten years later, the East Germans remained dubious.

"Enclosed you will find a copy of an Einziehungsprotokoll Nr. 219158' of the East German postal authorities," Walter Schroeder of Rosamond, California, wrote in a letter to the editor. "In plain English, this means they confiscated twelve magazines that I mailed to my father-in-law, who lives in Dresden. One of those magazines was published by you."

On February 7, 1965, a few days after that letter landed in our mailroom, The New York Times broke the news and put us in the spotlight. According to the Times, Soviet officials had determined that Arizona Highways was "ideologically subversive" and that it "propagandized the American way of life." In addition, we were considered "provocative literature clearly intended to conduct hostile propaganda among the Soviet people."

"Tsk! Tsk! Ivan!," our editor, Raymond Carlson, wrote in response. "Things have changed since Ol' Joe Stalin sat in the driver's seat in the Kremlin. Ol' Joe was on our mailing list (courtesy of an American) for years (with no repercussions) and his daughter was a self-paid subscriber."

In addition to the hundreds of letters we received from supportive readers around the world, business leaders and politicians, including U.S. Senator Carl Hayden, came to our defense. And so did nationally syndicated columnist Inez Robb.

"Let's not be beastly to the Russians in the matter of Arizona Highways, that ravishing magazine just blacklisted by Soviet authorities," she wrote. "Let's face the fact that to the uninitiated this monthly publication exudes a faint tincture of snake oil. I have seen Ivy League types east of the Hudson examine the contents of Arizona Highways with curled and skeptic lip. If all Americans unfamiliar with the great Southwest find it difficult to accept the publication's magnificent color photographs of Arizona's glorious deserts, the grandeur of her many mountain ranges, the majesty of the Grand Canyon, the beauty of her desert flora, the impact of the Petrified Forest and the Painted Desert, the grace of her mountain meadows and scenic glory... well, if such Americans find Arizona Highways hard to accept, how can we expect the comrades and the commissars to be of firmer faith?""I smuggled 25 copies of Arizona Highways as gifts for people I'd met behind the Iron Curtain," said Don Dedera, who was editor of this magazine in the mid-1980s. "The immigration commissar at Leningrad found them and went ballistic, until I gave him a drip-dry shirt. After that, the magazines passed right through."

When asked about the magazine's moment in the international spotlight, Mr. Carlson was humble. "It just goes to show that our little magazine gets around," he said. "Frankly, I'm delighted that the Communists have placed us in the same league as Robin Hood and Disneyland."

In the end, Arizona Highways outlasted the Soviet Union. And we still have subscribers in that part of the world, including Vladimir Anisimov, who lives in Zlatoust. To Mr. Anisimov and the other subscribers, thank you for your interest in our "propaganda." Although the Soviets used that word derogatorily, to suggest deceit, it's rooted in the verb "propagate," which means to spread the word. And in that sense, I suppose, we are guilty. We've been propagandizing our state for 99 years. History, culture, landscape ... there's a lot to boast about in Arizona. But rest assured, there's no deception. The fireworks in our sunsets and the rhapsody of our red rocks are as real as a Russian grandmother's beloved syrniki. See for yourself.