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<text id=90TT0801>
<title>
Apr. 02, 1990: The Man Who Is Playing For Time
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1990
Apr. 02, 1990 Nixon Memoirs
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
WORLD, Page 28
The Man Who Is Playing for Time
</hdr>
<body>
<p> Few Lithuanians boast a finer nationalist pedigree than
Vytautas Landsbergis. Descended from a long line of
intellectuals, the new President is only the latest Landsbergis
to agitate for an independent homeland. His maternal
grandfather produced the first grammar of modern Lithuanian,
while his paternal grandfather was exiled to Russia for his
opposition to czarist rule. Landsbergis' father Vytautas, one
of Lithuania's leading architects, was a volunteer in the fight
for independence in 1918 and, with his elder son Gabrielius,
took part in an attempt to create an independent Lithuania
during World War II.
</p>
<p> Now the younger Vytautas, 57, is spearheading the effort to
disentangle Lithuania from a union that it never sought.
"National feeling is strong and deep in Lithuania," Landsbergis
wrote last month. "For centuries our land has been dominated
by grasping neighbors."
</p>
<p> Yet until the birth in 1988 of Sajudis, the nationalist
movement that now dominates the local parliament, Landsbergis
was not an activist. "He was no more of a dissident than the
rest of us," recalls Jonas Vruveris, a former colleague at the
Vilnius State Conservatory, where Landsbergis used to lecture
on the history of music. Landsbergis quickly gained a
reputation as a shrewd strategist and within months emerged as
Sajudis' chairman. "No one else has been so capable of forging
a united position out of the multitude of positions that exist
here," says member Eduardas Potasinskas.
</p>
<p> Still, Landsbergis seems an unlikely conductor of
Lithuania's symphony of defiance. With his brown beard,
wire-rim glasses and brown corduroy jacket, he looks every bit
the egghead that he is. A pianist at heart and a professor of
music by trade, Landsbergis is more comfortable before a
keyboard than a crowd; the music he sends up from the ivories
is far more lyrical and moving than the political articles he
pens. He is married to a fellow pianist, Grazina, and is proud
that his family is caught up in the struggle for independence.
"All of them are emotionally tied to this movement," he told
a reporter last year, then went on to boast that his eldest
grandson, at age seven, wags a national flag at Sajudis
meetings. In the grand tradition of the Landsbergis family, the
boy, he said, "feels himself a fighter for Lithuania." As
Landsbergis matches Mikhail Gorbachev wit for wit, Sajudis
colleagues watch the man they affectionately call "maestro"
with admiration and fascination. "He is a superb chess player,"
says Jurate Gustaite, a teacher at the Conservatory. "I have
been reminded of that a lot lately as I watch him maneuver so
deftly, always thinking several steps ahead."
</p>
<p> Landsbergis invites comparison with playwright Vaclav Havel,
President of Czechoslovakia. Like Havel, Landsbergis has
determined that the needs of a nation must supersede his love
of his art. Still, he misses his beloved music. His aides speak
of moving a piano into his office in the Supreme Council. Says
Tadjuga Mackeviciene, one of his assistants: "He is able to
raise people's spirits with his music." The question is whether
he will be able to persuade Gorbachev to hum along.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>