In 1993, Sesame Workshop, the nonprofit company behind
Sesame Street, hired Natasha Lance Rogoff, an American television producer and documentary filmmaker with deep personal ties to Russia, to lead the creation of
Ulitsa Sezam, a Russian-language adaptation of
Sesame Street. The project, spearheaded in Congress by then-Senator Joe Biden and funded largely by USAID (the United States Agency for International Development), envisioned the Muppets as ambassadors of Western democratic values across the recently dissolved Soviet Union. Rogoff's memoir recounts the four chaotic years she and hundreds of Russian and American collaborators spent battling political upheaval, financial collapse, cultural clashes, and assassination to bring the show to air.
Rogoff arrived in Moscow in spring 1993 to find a city transformed by post-Soviet chaos. Her closest friend and local guide was Leonid Zagalsky, an award-winning Russian journalist who became the production's Moscow-based consultant. Their first key contact, Vladislav Listyev, a popular host on Ostankino, Russia's largest TV network, warned that Russian media was controlled by oligarchs and offered to introduce them to Boris Berezovsky, who held partial ownership of the network. Meanwhile, Sesame Workshop executives Gary Knell and Baxter Urist visited Moscow, but no Western corporations or Russian partners were willing to invest in a children's show in such an unstable country.
While the project stalled, Rogoff spent months on
Plaza Sesamo, the Mexican adaptation, learning the craft under Jon Stone,
Sesame Street's original director. In 1994, renewed congressional interest sent Rogoff back to Moscow, where Leonid arranged a meeting with Berezovsky. The oligarch agreed to invest several million dollars and instructed his lawyers to draft paperwork. On June 10, 1994, however, Berezovsky's car was destroyed by a bomb that killed his chauffeur; Berezovsky, severely burned, fled to Europe, and the deal evaporated. A subsequent deal with wealthy Russian businessmen collapsed when Sesame Workshop's lawyers deemed it ethically compromised.
In early 1995, Leonid found a new investor: Irina Borisova, the charismatic owner of Video Art, one of Russia's top media firms. Her company agreed to match the American contribution, giving the production its first viable financial partner. Rogoff began assembling a creative team at Ostankino, where Midhat Shilov, the director of cultural programming, assigned state television employees to the project. These producers immediately clashed with Rogoff over the Muppets. Lida Shurova, the head writer, declared that Russia's centuries-old puppet tradition had no need for American "Moppets," and the team insisted that only familiar Russian folklore figures belonged in a children's show.
Creative battles extended to every element. Music director Katya Komalkova refused to include contemporary music until Rogoff enlisted Sasha Sklyar, a Moscow rock musician, to change Katya's mind. Lida also maintained a blacklist of younger scriptwriters, and scripts from her chosen members of the Union of Writers, a Soviet-era professional association, were often dark or violent. Rogoff hired Robin Hessman, a twenty-two-year-old American associate producer fluent in Russian, over her boss's objections. When Robin discovered the blacklist and confronted Lida, tensions escalated until Lida and her husband, the creative director, both quit. Their departure, though initially alarming, brought relief to the team.
Tragedy struck on March 2, 1995, when Listyev, recently appointed executive director of the newly renamed ORT network, was assassinated outside his apartment. His murder, widely suspected to be connected to his plan to ban all advertising on ORT, devastated the team and deepened public cynicism about Russia's future. Rogoff's former boss suggested scaling back, but Rogoff argued passionately against abandoning the Russian team. Shortly after, Ken Rogoff, a Princeton economics professor whom she had been dating, proposed marriage. She accepted and, on Ken's advice, lobbied to report directly to Baxter, gaining operational freedom.
A training trip to New York, where the Russians observed
Sesame Street's production methods, worked with Harlem preschoolers, and met teenagers who recognized Bert and Ernie, softened the team's resistance to the Muppets. Back in Moscow, a multiday curriculum workshop at the Danilov Monastery brought together educators from across Russia and former Soviet republics. Despite fierce debates over capitalism, race, disability, and national identity, the group reached consensus:
Ulitsa Sezam would promote self-actualization, individualism, tolerance, gender equity, and pride in Russian heritage. The most powerful moment came when a teacher spoke about her students who use wheelchairs and pleaded for their inclusion, silencing objections about showing children with disabilities.
During Rogoff's honeymoon, armed soldiers raided the production office at ORT, confiscating scripts and equipment. Robin faxed the budget to New York as soldiers ordered her out. The team lost its workspace, but Baxter secured another bailout, and production resumed from borrowed spaces.
Sesame Street writer Luis Santiero, an Emmy Award winner, then traveled to Moscow to lead a scriptwriting workshop. Nana Grinstein, a young writer who had fled ethnic violence in Baku, Azerbaijan, emerged as a key creative voice and was promoted to co-head writer.
The production gained momentum with the hiring of Vladimir Grammatikov, a celebrated children's film director, as chief director. His improvisational exercises broke the Muppet design impasse, and the team settled on three Slavic Muppets: Zeliboba, a giant blue tree spirit in Nike sneakers; Businka, a pink, sports-loving female Muppet who defied gender stereotypes; and Kubik, an orange, bumbling dreamer celebrating individuality. Art director Maria Rybasova designed a courtyard set blending urban and rural Russian architecture.
Filming ran for four months in ORT's studio. Russian ingenuity compensated for outdated equipment, and veteran American director Lisa Simon flew to Moscow to increase the filming pace. However, Oleg Slabynko, a young executive at RTR, a Russian television network that had agreed to broadcast the show, was assassinated at his apartment door, becoming the second broadcast partner murdered during the production and forcing Leonid to renegotiate the deal.
With the show nearly complete, Irina's company collapsed. Reclama Holding, the conglomerate controlling airtime sales, stopped paying independent companies, and Video Art went bankrupt. The entire production team went on strike. Rogoff presented the crisis to Sesame Workshop's executives, who approved a final bailout after learning that Nestlé was close to sponsoring the series. Baxter argued that "The workshop's so pregnant with Russia that there's no possibility of turning back" (257). Rogoff taped thousands of dollars into her undergarments to carry through customs while larger funds were transferred.
Rogoff gave birth to her son Gabriel ten days past her due date. Within days, Leonid called with the news she had waited four years to hear: Both ORT and NTV, Russia's two largest networks, would simulcast
Ulitsa Sezam in prime time, with Nestlé as sole sponsor. Russian President Boris Yeltsin's narrow reelection victory over Communist candidate Gennady Zyuganov in July 1996 had stabilized the television landscape enough for executives to commit.
Rogoff returned to Moscow for the premiere gala on October 22, 1996. After the screening, she and Leonid watched apartment windows flicker with colored light as families tuned in to the first broadcast.
Ulitsa Sezam became an unprecedented hit across the former Soviet Union's eleven time zones, airing until 2010, when the show was canceled under political pressure during the Putin era. In an epilogue, Rogoff notes that after Russia's 2022 invasion of Ukraine, many former colleagues spoke out against the war, some fleeing to avoid imprisonment. She calls them "the Ulitsa Sezam generation."