Glasnost has been good for foreign reporters, but it has also brought complications. Along with openness came a less admirable characteristic of the Gorbachev era: the open-handed demand for hard currency. Members of Moscow's foreign press corps have been grumbling lately that some government authorities -- both bureaucrats and elected officials -- are asking to be paid for interviews, information, and access.

If foreign television journalists want to film the Moscow police in action, for instance, they have to pay. According to Vladimir V. Martynov, the Moscow police department's liaison for television journalists and filmmakers, the cost ranges from $ 100 for a brief filming to as much as $ 1,000 a day. Prepared footage of sting arrests and other investigations goes for about $ 200 a minute. "It all depends on what you want to film, what kind of firm you represent, and how long you want to use our employees," says Martynov.

The push for payments seems to stem from the Soviet's lack of understanding of the role of public officials in an open society, as well as from the pervasive desire for hard currency. Sometimes, journalists say, the demands go away when they are refused, and sometimes they don't.

In the case of the Moscow police, the Foreign Correspondents' Association complained about the payment demands in late 1990, and afterwards the police said they would no longer charge accredited print journalists for the privilege of riding along in patrol cars or observing them at work. Only television and commercial film crews would continue to be charged. For their part, the police say they are swamped by the number of people wanting to film nighttime operations. And police officials say the money gleaned from foreign correspondents doesn't go into officers' pockets, but is used to purchase much needed technical equipment.

Meanwhile, police aren't the only ones asking for money. In early 1990, a CBS crew from 48 Hours, working on a story about crime in Moscow, first approached the Soviet Interior Ministry, which oversees the national police force. But ministry officials asked them for a television "edit set" -- valued at around $ 80,000. After three days of arguing, the crew pulled out. "You can get fired for [such payoffs] at CBS," says producer Andrew Tkach. They eventually filmed the Moscow police for a May 1990 segment called Moscow Vice. Tkach says the local police charged only a small amount for driver and escort services, not for access.

Foreign correspondents tend to blame each other for allowing the Soviets to get away with demanding higher and higher prices for things that ought to be free. Print journalists blame television journalists, whom they see as breezing into town with big budgets and loose ethics. Television reporters from small stations blame big American networks. Some Americans, in turn, blame the Japanese and the power of the mighty yen. And the Japanese blame the Americans for the money-talks mentality that the Soviets have so enthusiastically adopted.

Adding to the confusion could be the fact that some government officials apparently don't see the difference between paying an academic a fee to appear on television as an expert and paying a government official for information. Journalists say more and more analysts, meanwhile, are asking for more and more money. John Lombard, Moscow bureau chief for Australia's public radio and television network, tried arranging an interview with a Soviet newspaper commentator who, out of the blue, told him, "I'm too expensive for you -- I stick with the Japanese."

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