A Family Heirloom

As I mentioned in my last post, in 1979, my mother flew to France to join me at the end of my junior year abroad in Montpellier, France. She had not been to Europe since she and her brother had been forced to flee Vienna 40 years earlier.

While in Paris walking around Montmartre, my mother paid a sketch artist to make a charcoal portrait of me. I never felt that the portrait looked much like me, but my mother was happy with the likeness. Perhaps I just didn’t like the way I looked! She was inspired to have the drawing made thanks to a pastel portrait she had of her own mother which had been done in the 1930s in Vienna. My mother and her brother brought the portrait them when they came to the U.S. in 1939.  

Upon arriving back home in San Francisco, my mother framed the sketch and hung it on her bedroom wall, accompanying the one of her mother which already hung there. Although I didn’t like my own portrait, I thought the artist captured my grandmother’s likeness well.

I don’t recall seeing my grandmother’s portrait before 1979, but perhaps it was hanging in our home throughout my childhood.

When my mother moved to the condo I live in now, her mother’s portrait hung prominently in the dining room. I loved seeing her each time I visited, looking out on her family. After my mother’s death, I stored the portrait safely in a closet.

In 2017, when I began going through my family papers, I brought out the portrait again to add it to the digital archive I was making. I then hung it up in our hallway. Looking at a newly digitized photo of my mother’s 16th birthday party from May 1937, I could see clearly something I had not noticed on the small original 2-1/2x3inch photo – my grandmother’s portrait was hanging on the wall in their dining room! I loved that my grandmother was now looking at me every time I walked down the hallway, just as her image had looked on she and her family in their home in Vienna.

Recently, I wondered whether my grandmother’s nephew Robert Zerzawy had made the portrait – he had been an accomplished artist. I was going to ask Sherlock Cohn (a woman who helps identify people and places in old photos) to compare the drawing to others I know he had made. Before doing that, however, it occurred to me to take the portrait (gingerly) out of the frame and see whether it was signed. Indeed it was! As so often has happened on this journey, I discovered that the story I told myself about the object was not true. The portrait was signed and dated by Wilhelm Wachtel in 1937 – so the portrait was quite new when my mother celebrated her birthday. My grandmother’s 50th birthday was in November 1936. Perhaps the portrait was made in honor of that milestone.

There is not much information available on Wilhelm Wachtel. It appears that he was born in Poland in 1875 and died in the US in 1952. He seems to have been prolific and fairly well-known when he was alive. If you do an internet search, you can see many examples of his work.

What an amazing artifact that gets richer each time I look at it!

Top photo: at their home in Vienna on my mother’s 16th birthday in 1937 with the portrait on the wall behind them and a red line pointing to Eva; bottom left photo: at my mother’s home in San Francisco with her brother Harry and her caregiver with the portrait on the wall behind them; bottom right photo: the portrait itself.

Vienna

In a recent session of Barbara Krasner’s Writing Family History group, we wrote about a geographic place that is meaningful to our family. I chose Vienna, Austria:

I am in Vienna: the one I visited in 1978-1979 with a friend over Christmas break during my junior year abroad in France and again the following summer with my mother on her first visit back to Europe since fleeing in 1939; the Vienna of my mother’s youth in the 1920s, and of her own mother’s youth at the turn of the 20th Century.

The music of Strauss fills the air. I am swaying to the strains of the “Blue Danube.” I am in line for standing room only tickets to attend a performance of Die Fledermaus on January 1, 1979, the opera played every new year at the Vienna State Opera. I wasn’t able to attend the New Year’s Eve performance, but I came close! I had one of my first “Twilight Zone” experiences that night as we waited for the streetcar to return to our pension after the performance. Out of the darkness a woman completely enveloped in a huge coat against the bitter cold appeared and said “Hello, Helen Goldsmith.” She was a friend from UC Berkeley who was studying in Edinburgh while I was in Montpellier, France. What a strange and magical experience to have someone from home suddenly appear!

Now I am in Stadtpark near the statue of Strauss. I imagine my mother and uncle playing on the grass when they were children, with my grandmother delightedly watching them. Despite the fact that everywhere I look are signs prohibiting people from walking on the grass.

Strauss statue in 1979.

I walk to the Hotel Sacher for a cup of coffee mit schlag, and a slice of the famous Sacher Torte, a two-layer chocolate cake with apricot jam between the layers, topped with dark chocolate icing. When I was a child in San Francisco, my mother would sometimes make a Sacher Torte for special occasions. My mouth waters as I imagine licking the spoon after she finishes icing the cake.

Now, I am peering in the window of Café Centrale, around 1906, seeing my 20-year old grandmother, a young shop girl whose social life includes visiting the café most days. She lives in modest quarters and the café is her living room. She reads the latest newspapers from Vienna and around the world and meets her friends for conversation, intellectual arguments, and laughter.

Now it’s 1934, and I am on the Stubenring looking at Libansky & Co, my grandparents’ stationery shop. This is the heyday of my grandfather’s “magic shop.” He stands outside basking in the sun, leaning against the building. He chats up passers-by, once in awhile inviting one of them into the shop for him to read their palms or sell them a mandrake root for their protection.

A postcard of the Stubenring. The arrow points to my grandparents’s shop, Libansky & Co.

Vitali at the shop window with customers in 1934.

Again recalling my visit over Christmas break in 1978-79, I am back at the pension near St. Stephen’s Cathedral. An old widow runs it. She has a small, wheezy, unfriendly dog who roams the halls at night. At breakfast, one of the guests – an employee of the Mexican embassy – says in stilted yet lovely English, “Madam, your dog does not look at me with good eyes.” I couldn’t have said it better.

St. Stephen’s Cathedral and ticket to Die Fledermaus from 1979.

The pension is above a nightclub (perhaps a strip club) called “Casablanca.” When my mother and I stay there the following summer, I ask her to go into the club and get me a poster as a gift for the friend I had visited Vienna with several months earlier. She is too embarrassed to do so, but teaches me the German to go in and ask myself. I am successful and secure two posters, one for my friend and one for me. A few years ago, my husband and I had dinner with friends and reminisced about student travel. It turned out that they had stayed at the very same pension and were thrilled when I gave them the poster.

Final image: it is the summer of 1979. My mother has decided she needs a copy of her birth certificate in case all the other documentation she has about her existence will not be sufficient for her to apply for Social Security benefits in a few years. We go to the Jewish organization that has all of the old books of Jewish records. It is the 4th of July, which seems auspicious! Births were recorded by hand in huge tomes. The less-than-friendly employee unenthusiastically hands my mother the book for 1921, the year of her birth. She is nowhere to be found and my mother is crestfallen. My mother decides that since we are there, she might as well see whether her brother appears in the 1924 book so the visit might be worthwhile. We find him immediately. My mother listlessly continues to turn the pages without much hope and suddenly finds her own birth recorded a few years after she was born. For some reason, her father hadn’t wanted to deal with the bureaucracy to record the information (or considered it an invasion of privacy?) until after his second child, a son, was born. 

Copy of Harry’s birth certificate from 1979.

I smell the coffee and pastry, hear the strains of Strauss waltzes, see the Vienna of my mother’s childhood, and the Vienna my grandmother loved before it became an unfriendly hellscape. What is the real Vienna – the idyllic playground or the antisemitic nightmare? Probably both.  I look forward to visiting again to see whether there is a Vienna that is mine.

December 31, 2022

A few final words about Hilda

Some readers were confused because Hilda, although Jewish, took such delight in Christmas. In her eulogy, Joan Zentner said: “Her Grandfather and her nurse Alma were her favorites. Here was a dichotomy, as Alma was a devout Catholic and Grandfather was a devout Jew. He was not Orthodox and the Pierce Street home observed all the Ritual Holidays. Hilda attended [Jewish] Sunday School, as well as occasionally attending Sunday Mass with her devoted nurse. Her young mind compared and analyzed the two faiths and philosophies. While she thought little of angels and heaven, she adored Christmas…. She loved this holiday so much that she convinced her Grandfather, and Christmas was celebrated to the joy of all at the Pierce Street household.”

Joan typed up “Rainbows and Worms” and this year my posts have come from a copy of it that she had given my mother in 1991. According to Joan’s eulogy, while Hilda was unhappily married and living in Brazil, she passed the time by writing about “her childhood in a book which she called ‘Rainbows and Worms’; it is a detailed account of life in and around Pierce Street, and no doubt drawn from a meticulously kept diary.” At last we have the answer to a question I often asked myself and others have asked me – did an 8-year old really write this diary? If Joan is correct, Hilda edited and probably embellished the diary she’d written as a child. It would have been written in the mid-1950s when Hilda was in her early 50s. (At the very same time, my grandmother would have been typing up her memories of her childhood in Bohemia from 1889-1902!).

Although I have had Hilda’s original copy for a few months, I avoided looking for fear of getting caught up in comparing differences between it and Joan’s version. Here is the first entry from Hilda’s original typed copy:

Hilda’s first paragraph of “Rainbows and Worms”

Over the past few days I’ve posted photos of the gravesites of the people we have read about over the year. My cousin and I visited the Jewish cemeteries in Colma in September so we could see where Hilda is interred. Jacob Levy’s family plot is in Salem Memorial Park. Tillie is buried in her husband Julius Zentner’s plot at Home of Peace Cemetery.

In Hilda’s eulogy, Joan Zentner wrote of how close Hilda and her nursemaid Alma were: “Her alliance with Alma was bonded by a love and faithfulness throughout life. Alma is buried in our Family Plot in Colma very near Hilda’s mother and father.” We didn’t see Alma’s grave on our initial visit, so after finding Hilda, we went back to Jacob Levy’s family plot, but Alma was nowhere to be seen. As I was writing about Hilda over the past few days, I looked at all of the photos I took at the cemetery in September. On that first visit, I visited the graves of other family relatives who are more part of my mother’s and grandmother’s family story than of Hilda’s. One of those people was Erwin Fulda, who offered to provide financial assistance to help bring over my grandparents in 1939 (as did Aunt Tillie and Hilda and Nathan). He is also the boy who Hilda played with in 1912.

Erwin is buried in the Fulda family plot at the Home of Peace Cemetery. I took photos of his grave as well as others in the plot.

Could Alma R Orack be Hilda’s Alma?!

In preparing for our visit to the cemetery, I did an online search for where to find Hilda. I learned that she had been cremated and that her ashes are in the Hills of Eternity Mausoleum (not far from where Wyatt Earp is buried). My cousin and I found the rest of the family, but Hilda’s crypt eluded us. After wandering around the mausoleum for a long time without success, someone working at the cemetery directed us to the room she was supposed to be in, but we still were unable to find her. We jokingly agreed that Hilda chose to elude us because she wanted us to make a special visit to see her. We called the cemetery after our visit to confirm we had been looking in the right place, and we were assured we had been.

A few weeks ago, we returned to the cemetery, went to the same room, and within less than a minute we found Hilda! This time we realized she shared a space with her beloved Nathan. However, as you can see, Hilda’s name is difficult to read. Apparently etching skills did not improve over 40 years.

Hilda always had hoped to have her diary published. After Joan typed the manuscript (and edited it a bit), she sent it to a publisher. The last item I share with you is a response from Doubleday.

Several readers have asked me if I will look for a publisher. Perhaps the time has come and the world is ready to hear Hilda’s voice. There are differences between Hilda’s original and the one I used this year. If I ever try to get it published, I’ll have to spend some time comparing the two!

For subscribers to my blog, I have an idea about something I might do next year, but plan to write far less often. Please don’t be surprised if you do not hear from me for awhile. Thank you for going on this journey with Hilda and me this year!

December 28, 2022

1930s

According to the 1930 Census, Jacob Levy was 80 years old and living with his 48-year old daughter Matilda Levy (Aunt Tillie) and 26-year old granddaughter Hilda Goldberg. They still lived in the house at 1328 Pierce Street. Jacob died soon after the census was taken, on April 29, 1930. A newspaper article from 1928 reported that he had been injured in an automobile accident. Perhaps that precipitated his death.

Jacob was buried next to his wife in Salem Memorial Park in Colma. A large stone with his name on it marks the entire family plot.

The loss of her beloved Grandfather must have been traumatic for Hilda and left a huge hole in her life. For Aunt Tillie too. Although almost 50 years old, Tillie had never married. Had she had no suitors? Had she stayed home to take care of her father and help raise Hilda after Tillie’s mother died ten years earlier? Just a few months after her father’s death, Tillie married Julius Zentner (the same Uncle Julius who was married to Aunt Josie, who had died in 1929). They wed on June 9, 1930. Julius was almost 20 years her senior.

We saw in the last post that Hilda was a talented pianist. I don’t know whether music would have paid the bills after Grandfather died. It certainly allowed her to meet and and find community with the musicians in San Francisco. At some point, she met was Nathan Firestone, first violist of the San Francisco Symphony and a member of various chamber music groups. He was 41 and she was 26.

Hilda and Nathan’s engagement was announced in the July 25, 1930 issue of Emanu-El: “Friends are felicitating Miss Hilda Claire Goldberg upon her engagement to Nathan Firestone of this city. The couple will be married in September.” Their engagement was also announced in the San Francisco Chronicle:

San Francisco Chronicle August 3, 1930 p34

They were married in late August 1930.

San Francisco Chronicle, September 7, 1930 p34

From Merriam-Webster: “BENEDICT is a newly married man who has long been a bachelor.”

This story was particularly interesting for my husband whose piano teacher decades after this announcement was Lev Shorr!

It appears that Nathan and Hilda had a wonderful marriage. She continued at least until the mid-1930s to give performances while her husband played in the symphony, chamber groups, and gave music lessons. Nathan’s playing with the San Francisco Symphony was often reviewed in the local newspapers. In addition I found a number of articles mentioning other performances.

Their social life appears to be as full of music as their professional lives were.

San Francisco Chronicle, July 12, 1931 p43

San Francisco Chronicle, January 3, 1932 p33

At this point they were living through the Great Depression. Unlike so many, Nathan and Hilda apparently were comfortable enough and worked to help others in need:

San Francisco Chronicle, April 22 1933 p3

San Francisco Chronicle, July 9, 1933 p33

San Francisco Chronicle, September 14, 1933 p21

In the September 15, 1933 issue of Emanu-El, there was an announcement that Nathan had opened a studio for “the acquirement of knowledge in the art of ensemble playing.” I have a copy of his brochure in my archive:

In, Tillie and Julius Zentner took a 4-month trip to Europe.

Oakland Tribune, May 28, 1931, p42

I wonder whether this is when Tillie met my grandmother and her children in Vienna. The story I had always heard was that she had been charmed by young Harry and when world events made it clear that it was no longer safe to be in Vienna, she asked my grandmother to send him to safety in San Francisco.

In 1939, my family’s story joins Hilda’s. When my mother Eva and her brother Harry came to the U.S. in October 1939, they were split up and sent to live with different relatives. 15-year old Harry lived with Hilda and Nathan as he finished his last two years of high school.

Hilda and Nathan, date unknown

December 27, 2022

The 1920s - Early Adulthood

According to the 1920 Census, 70-year old Jacob Levy was living with his 67-year old wife Sarah, daughter 37-year old daughter Matilda, and 16-year old granddaughter Hilda. The census must have been taken very early, as Sarah died on January 22, 1930:

Salem Memorial Park in Colma, California

Grandmother’s death must have been a huge shock and life in the Levy household must have been very different. Hilda was still in high school. She graduated in 1921.

From Ancestry.com. It lists birth year wrong and she would have been 17 when she graduated.

Hilda continued to enjoy parties with friends:

San Francisco Chronicle, January 16, 1921, page 45. It must have been a party in honor of Hilda’s 17th birthday.

A life filled with music

From Hilda’s diary, we learned of her love of music (although she hated her piano lessons – July 28). Her father was an excellent musician and she wrote of hearing him play flute.

1894 photo. Hilda’s father is on our right.

As a young adult, Hilda became a professional musician, accompanying singers, playing at events, and performing concerts.

The following articles appeared in the San Francisco Chronicle mention concerts Hilda played in San Francisco over a ten year period:

At a California Teachers’ Association Institute in 1921:

In the July 28 post, we saw an article about a concert Hilda would be giving on February 25, 1925. Here is a review of her performance from February 27, 1925, page 7.

At a meeting of the National Council of Jewish Women in 1925:

March 8, 1925 page 45 San Francisco Chronicle

A performance at the Pacific Musical Society at the Fairmont Hotel:

January 9, 1927 page 6D San Francisco Chronicle

Performing with the Young Men’s and Young Women’s Hebrew Association Symphony Orchestra at the Western Women’s Club:

At a concert of the Pacific Musical Society with 2 other artists at the Fairmont Hotel.

December 26, 2022

When I began posting Hilda’s diary in January, I knew only what I had gleaned from a few sources: the names of her parents and grandparents on a family tree, a sense of her personality from a few letters written to her from my grandmother and uncle in the 1940s, her own words in a letter she wrote to my grandmother in 1946, and a handful of photos from the early 1940s that my mother and uncle had saved.

I read about the existence of the diary in a note on the family tree that the husband of a distant relative made in 1997. I was unable to find anyone who could show it to me, but one day I found a copy on my bookshelf! It had been given to my mother in 1991 by Hilda’s first cousin Joan Zentner who was the daughter of Hilda’s Uncle Milton. Although they were first cousins, Hilda was over 20 years older than Joan, more of an aunt than a cousin.

As far as I know, I never met Hilda. Through circumstances that merit a blog of their own, in 2019 I met Joan’s daughter, my third cousin. Although we are the same age, we probably never met until then.

In late spring Joan died and my third cousin came into possession of a trove of Hilda treasures which help us know Hilda more fully. In addition, I searched through the digital archives of the local newspapers and found a lot of articles about Hilda and her family.

From all of the above, I have a much better portrait of Hilda’s life.

Hilda’s childhood

Today’s post will focus on Hilda’s childhood, both before and after 1912.

As we know from her diary, Hilda’s mother died just a few days after she was born. Here is a photo postcard of her parents, Hilda and Sol Goldberg. It includes a note that appears to have been written on their honeymoon.

Hilda was born in Manhattan on January 13, 1904. Because she was born on a Friday, the family celebrated her birthday on January 12th. It wasn’t until she was an adult that she learned her actual birth date. Hilda’s father worked as a buyer for Macy’s notion department in New York City. After his wife’s death, he took a leave of absence and brought Hilda to California to be raised by her maternal grandparents. Hilda’s mother was buried in the family plot at Salem Memorial Park in Colma, California:

Hilda’s father visited as often as he could and took her on trips during the summer (see July 2-16 posts).

I found a number of items about Hilda’s life published in Emanu-El, the weekly publication of Congregation Emanu-El in San Francisco. In the 1940s, it became the local newspaper for the Jewish Community in San Francisco and is currently called J. The Jewish News of Northern California.

According to the September 1, 1911 issue of Emanu-El, “Among the early fall arrivals at Ancha Vista Hotel, San Anselmo, are:…Mrs. J. Levy [Grandmother] and Miss Hilda Goldberg.” She was in the the congregation’s May 1918 confirmation class (May 10, 1918 issue).

Hilda was very social and attended a lot of parties and events.

From the April 25, 1919 issue: “Probably one of the prettiest affairs of the season, given for the younger set, was the afternoon at which Miss Marion Glaser and her sister, Miss Helen Glaser, presided. In the center of the table was a softly shaded lamp of yellow silk, around which numerous baby roses and ferns were strewn; Dainty place cards and favors marked the places of the guests. Those invited to share the hospitality of the charming hostess were….Hilda Goldberg…”

From the June 13, 1919 issue of Emanu-El:

“Young Folk Enjoy Dancing Party
The members of the school set were delightfully entertained last Saturday night at the home of Miss Helen Harris,…when 20 boys and girls enjoyed an evening devoted to singing and dancing. The guests were:…Hilda Goldberg….”

More photos:

Various photos, unknown dates; Hilda with Brownie in bottom right photo

Class photo, unknown date

Hilda and her father, unknown date

And finally, some of Hilda’s artwork, dates unknown:

One of cross-stitch creations

Self-portrait of a lonely young girl?

December 31

Looking back and going forward

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Today we reach the end of 2021 and of my daily blog presenting Helene’s and her family’s letters and papers. My goal this year was to give my grandmother her voice, because throughout her life, she wanted to be heard and read, had a great deal to say, and was incredibly eloquent in saying it. Helene was many things to many people – Eva’s and Harry’s beloved mother; Vitali’s darling wife; the Zerzawy boys’ treasured aunt and their last connection to their mother who died when they were very young; a dear friend to many; and my cousins’ and my own sweet grandmother.

Over the course of this year, I found that other family members also wanted to be heard. We saw papers covering more than a century and spanning much of the globe. Just this last week, for example, we were taken on a rich journey – from a desolate World War I prisoner of war camp in Eastern Siberia, to Christmas in Bohemia, to Vienna during a freezing winter in World War II, to London, Istanbul, San Francisco, and a World War II army training camp.

I now know my family in a much deeper and richer way, and have an appreciation for relatives who always seemed distant and not really part of my immediate family’s story. I am filled with love for people who once were strangers, some of whom died decades before I was born.

If you are interested in (re)visiting the blog from the beginning, click here.

I am grateful to my subscribers who joined me on my journey and provided wonderful feedback.

I am going to miss “seeing” my family every day, but intend to find a way to tell their story in a different way, perhaps in book form.

I will end the year with some family photos:

 Vitali and Helene at a dinner party in Vienna, probably in the 1920s:

Vitali is second from the left in the top row, Helene second from the left in the bottom.

Looking at the above photo, I am reminded of a trip my husband and I took to London and where I met his cousins for the first time. We have a very similar photo taken of all of us in a restaurant with 3 other couples. I wonder if some of the people pictured above were relatives from San Francisco — perhaps including Tillie and Julius Zentner?

One of the few photos we have of the entire family in Vienna - Vitali in shadow, probably taken in around 1930:

Helene and her two children:

Helene in San Francisco, with her son Harry, Eva, and Eva’s husband, probably taken around 1946 or 1947:

My mother, my grandmother, and me:

What’s Next?

Looking to the future, I plan to do something different in 2022.

In the February 13th and November 22nd posts, I wrote about a family tree created in 1996-1997 by the husband of a distant cousin. He included anecdotes and footnotes, including one which mentioned that Hilda Firestone, the daughter of Helene’s cousin, had written a “diary/book about the family”. When I saw the note, I was eager to see the diary, but could not figure out how to find it. Then one day as I was looking for something on a bookcase, I discovered I had a copy that had been given to mother!

Hilda was born in January 1904 and her mother died just a few days later. She was raised in San Francisco by her grandparents and her aunt Tillie. Included in this blog over the past year, we saw one letter written by Hilda and several written to her from Helene and from Harry. From them, we can imagine an intelligent, empathetic, funny, caring, and loving person – another woman with a message

In 1912, Hilda was given a diary in which she wrote nearly every day. In 2022, I will share 8-year-old Hilda’s observations of her life and of San Francisco. She did not write every day, many entries are brief, and I have few related materials, so it will be different from my posts in 2021. If you are a subscriber, please feel free to continue or to unsubscribe, depending on your interest.

Happy New Year!!!

December 25

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

On Christmas Day, we have a photo and a holiday note from Helene’s son Private Harry Lowell from 1943 and 1944, and a photo of her nephew, 24-year old Robert Zerzawy, taken on Christmas in 1923. As we’ve seen throughout December, Helene and her family treasured being together, particularly for holidays and birthdays – even when two world wars kept them apart, they never stopped thinking about each other. 

Here is Harry during training in southern California in 1943:

Below is a V-mail letter from Private Harry Lowell to Helene’s cousin Bertha and her husband George Schiller in San Francisco. Harry’s note: “I hope you both will enjoy the holidays. I’ll be sitting ‘neath a palm tree thinking of home. Fondly, Harry”

There is no year, but from the context, it was probably sent in 1944 from New Guinea. In the August 7th post, we saw Harry’s “self-portrait” sitting under a palm tree. 

Here is a photo of Helene’s nephew Robert, taken in Hamburg in 1923:

I don’t know how long Robert lived in Hamburg. His brother Paul kept a packet of photos from there– perhaps a gift from Robert at the same time this photo was taken? Or purchased by Paul when he visited his brother for the holidays? Although there is no date on the album, I found a similar album from 1920 for sale online.

December 18

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Today we see two documents from Helene’s nephew Paul Zerzawy’s time after World War I. His university studies had been interrupted by World War I. In the October 16th post, we saw documents from his undergraduate degree. Today, we see the diploma for his law degree from Vienna State University in December of 1920:

Latin translation from Google Translate:

We are the director of the Vienna State University

Alphonsus Dopsch, a professor of philosophy and a professor of public history. John Kelsen, professor of law, professor of law and political affairs, regular politician, ht. dean of the order of lawyers; Charles Gruunberg, a professor of law, professor of law and political affairs, a regular politician, a duly appointed promoter, and a distinguished man

Paulum Zerzawy
(from Bilin in Bohemia)

After legitimate examinations proved that the doctrine of law is commendable in the whole of law, we have conferred the rights and privileges of law and the honors and privileges on the faith of the university, and we have taken care that these letters be signed by the seal of the university.

Vienna, December 24, 1920

While Helene’s son Harry had most of Paul Zerzawy’s photos and letters, her daughter Eva had all his official papers. The following document was amongst his transcripts and diplomas, so I was certain that this was another degree or certificate. However, as I was preparing today’s post, I discovered that it isn’t education-related at all — my friend and translator quickly reviewed and we discovered that Paul had won a chess tournament! Yet again, my lack of German led me down the wrong path. Alland is about 12 miles southwest of Vienna.

Herewith is announced that Dr. Paul Zerzawy won the First Prize and achieved the Championship Title in the Second Alland Chess Competition (September 4-18, 1922).

Alland, December 19, 1922.

The committee (signatures and stamp)

November 7

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Today we have a letter from G.I. Harry Lowell to his sister Eva in San Francisco. He is in desert training in southern California (see August 16 post).

November 7, 1943

Dear Sister,

Well, I’ve finally decided to write you a letter – after a lot of struggling with myself. This is the first letter I have written since I came back from my furlough.

You’ve probably received that recording from L.A. by now; I don’t think that voice sounds like mine at all, do you? The lady that made the record at the U.S.O. dragged me into her studio, and I couldn’t say no.

How is everything going with you? Did you find a job that suits you yet?

We are having quite a few sandstorms these days; have you ever been in a sandstorm? Most of our tents were blown away or torn; we have to wear goggles to protect our eyes; the food consists of 50% sand; our rifles and trucks are clogged up most of the time, etc. All in all, it’s a mess. We are told that it wouldn’t last much longer. (I hope)

On my trip to the desert I looked all over for snakes, but I didn’t even see a lizard. As for cacti (cactuses? cactusi?), I saw very beautiful ones but wasn’t able to get any because they belonged to a hotel at Palm Springs. Tell Mrs. Koenig (I think that’s her name) I’ll keep looking.

I have been quite disgusted lately; blue is the word. The other day I drove for the salvage depot and saw one of a few examples of inexcusable waste. Brand new test tubes, pill boxes, first aid kits (containing hard-to-get drugs), loads of filter paper, and cases of sodium amytal for injections. All these things had been thrown together with old clothes, storm tents, shoes, and other salvage. I could have killed the officer who was responsible for such an outrageous waste of and unconcern for valuable government property. Grr!

Quite a few of the men in the company are getting soft gums and bad teeth because a stupid bastard of a colonel or general has made up his mind to feed us canned food only. Oh, I am so mad*!@% (Could you send me a set of teeth?)

Well, that’s all for now. Say hello to your household, keep your nose clean, and don’t get into any fights with the family.

As always,
Your favorite brother,
Harry

P.S. How about that picture? What’s your phone number?

I included a photo of a USO recording Harry made in the May 3rd post – I assumed he had made it for her birthday. I have a vague memory of listening to it when I was a child, but can no longer make it work.

In this and other letters, Harry refers to Mrs. Koenig – she was the mother of Eva’s fellow nursing student Ursula Lucks and Eva’s landlady for many years. I remember her as a sweet old lady who took me to the zoo. Earlier this year I searched on Ancestry for more information, and discovered that Margaret Koenig was born in Germany in 1898. Her daughter Ursula Lucks also was born in Germany. Margaret was widowed before coming to the U.S. with Ursula in 1927. According to the 1930 census, she worked as a wrapper in a candy factory (shades of I Love Lucy!). In 1934, she married Ewald Koenig, also an emigré from Germany.

Here is a photo from the late 1940s of Helene, Mrs. Koenig, her husband, daughter, and my parents:

Back row: Helene, Mrs. Koenig’s second husband Ewald Koenig, Ursula Lucks, Eva
Front row: Margarate Koenig, Eva’s husband LP Goldsmith

October 26

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Sister and Brother 

This photo from October (or November?) 28, 1926 shows Eva at 5-1/2 and Harry at 2-3/4 years old. The photo was taken at the Hella Katz photo studio, which was located at Stubenring 18, a short walk from their stationery store at Stubenring 2 – a photo of the store’s location can be seen in the June 11 post.

Helene’s children had a special shared history. As children in Vienna, they saw the city through their mother’s eyes – a magical place filled with music and conversation. At the same time, they experienced anti-Semitism in school and never felt that they fit in – in addition to being Jewish, their father was foreign, which made them foreign too. They were Turkish citizens, yet never visited Istanbul until going there in 1939 to get passports. They left their parents and Europe behind in 1939 to come to the U.S., where they lived apart with American relatives who seemed to have no understanding of their experience. They became Americans as quickly as possible, in order to fit in and to hopefully find a home where they felt welcome and safe. This was far easier for Harry, who immediately lost his accent. Eva had a German accent all her life, so the moment she opened her mouth, people knew she was not from here.

Eva adored her brother, who brought her joy throughout her life. Although they lived relatively near each other, for the most part, they lived very separate lives. However, I think that the place that most felt like home for them was with each other.

I believe this photo must have been taken on Treasure Island at the Golden Gate International Exposition — see October 23 post:

Photos of Eva and Harry from the 1920s to 2011:

October 6

Other voices from the past

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

As I was getting ready to prepare today’s post, I realized that the letter I had planned to write about wasn’t completely translated. It was one of several that my original translator had trouble reading. I had ascribed the problem to difficult handwriting, but now understand that it was written in the old German script. We will see the letter at a later date.

When I began trying to make sense of my many documents, I contacted the US Holocaust Memorial Museum when I was trying to find contact information for historian Corry Guttstadt because she had done a fellowship there. From that contact, I learned a great deal about my grandmother and my family and I made a new friend. I requested information about my father’s parents and they sent me documents from the International Tracing Service. They had been deported from Frankfurt on September 1, 1942 to Theresienstadt. According to one of the documents, my grandmother Rosa Adler Goldschmidt says she was transported to Maly Trostinec. Although there was no proof of death, the letter said that fewer than 10% of prisoners returned after the war.

My father was born in 1907 in Gelnhausen, a town in Germany not far from Frankfurt am Main. He came to the U.S. in 1934. At that time, his parents were living in Frankfurt. He had a brother who also came to the U.S. and lived in San Francisco for a few years, but I never met him and do not know where or when he died. He never spoke about his family.

In 2007, I began going through the papers my mother had saved. These included: her mother’s letters sent from Istanbul in 1945-1946; the letters Harry sent her when he was a G.I. in 1943-1945; Paul Zerzawy’s photo albums, school records, bank records from 1939, and his death certificate. She also had about 2 dozen letters from my father’s family.

When I first began looking through those papers, I asked for help from a few German speakers. Although they were able to read Helene’s letters, none of them could decipher the letters written by my father’s parents. When Amei Papitto started translating Paul Zerzawy’s letters written in the old German handwriting, I asked her to look at them and she couldn’t read them either. I had resigned myself to never knowing what the letters said.

When I contacted Michael Simonson at the Leo Baeck Institute a few months ago to ask for some advice, I mentioned my father’s letters. He asked me to send a few examples and he would see whether one of the LBI volunteers might be able to read them. Incredibly, he could!

In early August, Michael sent me the translation of the undated letter below. Imagine my delight at hearing my paternal grandmother’s “voice” for the first time. Given my grandparents’ tragic end, I’m glad that they were not silenced forever.

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My dear children!

We were very happy with your dear letter, particularly since you sound so satisfied. Have you gotten properly settled in your apartment? Now let me give you the recipe for a potato soup. You start some water boiling, cut small cubes of potatoes, some celery, leeks, carrots, everything cut small, and also some cauliflower, place it in the water and let it cook until it is soft, then put some fat in a little pan, some onions, cut small, brown two spoons of flour in it, stir in a little water until it’s smooth, then pour into the potato soup, bring to a boil and add 1 small sausage per person. Now the recipe for wafer cuts. Mix ¼ pound butter, 30g grated chocolate, 2 whole eggs, 2 heaping spoons of crushed sugar cubes, allow this to dry on a sheet smeared with wafers, allow the mass and the wafers to dry alternately when everything is ready. Finally, cut.

If you would like another recipe, write to me I will gladly send it to you. If you make the potato soup, dear Tane <?> should also eat with you. You must also put 1 or 2 small sausages in it. Aside from that I know of nothing to write for today. Sending warmest greetings and kisses. Your faithful

                                                                     Mother

I was charmed that the first thing I “received” from my grandmother was recipes for my father’s favorite foods! It took me a while to figure out what a “wafer cut” cookie is. I tried reverse translation and came up with “Waffelschnitte”. They are the layered wafer cookies known to us as Neapolitin wafers.

Below is the only family photo I have that I believe shows my father’s family - I assume the baby is my father and the people in the photo are his parents and three of his grandparents.

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September 30

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Today we see Paul Zerzawy’s student body card from the College of Global Trade in Vienna. It was valid until September 30, 1921.

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Before enrolling here, Paul attended college in Prague before and after the war, and received his law degree in Vienna in 1920.

Given his level of education and skills, we can appreciate how difficult and frustrating it must have been to come to the U.S. and be unemployable, able only to fall back on his skills as a pianist.

This is one of the few photos I have of Paul at this age – we saw another from 1919 in the January 5 post. He has grown a mustache since leaving the army, which he will keep for the rest of his life.   

September 28

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

This photo was pasted in one of Paul Zerzawy’s photo albums:

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Earlier this year, I realized that on the back of some of his photos, Paul had listed the names of people in the photo. When I removed this photo, I received a wonderful surprise. It turned out to be a photo postcard addressed to his young cousins, Eva and Harry Cohen in Vienna, probably in 1934. It is the only piece of mail I have that is addressed to my mother when she was a child in Vienna.

The postcard shows Paul and his brother Robert walking on a street in Marienbad in Czechoslovakia with their father and his third wife Elise (see February 10 post). The postmark shows that it was sent on the 28th of an unknown month in 1934. Both Paul and Robert signed it and Robert included a “self-portrait” to let his cousins know that he had a lot less hair than it may have appeared in the photo (reminiscent of some of Harry’s drawings in his letters!).

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In pen: Father, Mother, and two children. Greetings.
Paul

In pencil: On the picture I am flattered, in reality I look different, kind of like this: drawing.
Robert

In pen: Everything is okay.

August 28

The lighter side

After a few very sad posts, I felt it was time to go on “vacation” before the summer ends. We saw a few of Paul and Robert Zerzawy’s travel photos in the May 15 post. Today we see photos from a trip they took in August 1931 to Lapad, near Dubrovnik and other photos that may be from Italy. It’s wonderful to see the brothers so relaxed, happy, and together! They were separated throughout so much of their lives — by two world wars and beyond.

Some of the photos are timeless and could as easily have been taken today as 150 years ago:

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One thing that has changed is how much more formal they dressed when they traveled than we do today – other than photos taken at the seaside and at a hotel or spa, Paul and Robert are always dressed meticulously in suits and dress shoes.

Robert with unknown woman.

Robert with unknown woman.

Paul looking out on the water.

Paul looking out on the water.

Robert sunbathing

Robert sunbathing

Robert and Paul with unknown woman.

Robert and Paul with unknown woman.

Robert, Paul, and an unknown woman. At a spa?

Robert, Paul, and an unknown woman. At a spa?

We see a lighter side of Robert and Paul in a few photos. My guess is that in the photo below they are drying their “tears” because their trip is ending:

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August 23

Finding my way to Vitali

The past few years of delving into my family history have been a fascinating journey. I’ve learned a huge amount, done a lot of research, discovered a new and unusual avocation, and met and reconnected with a lot of wonderful people along the way. This summer has been no exception. I continue to find new documents and articles that paint a fuller picture of my family. For most of the year, I have concentrated on my grandmother. Over the past month, I’ve found myself focusing more on my grandfather.

One of the most unexpected discoveries has been that my quest to learn more about my family is somehow inextricably linked to my learning about and doing hand analysis. I make the most progress when I am involved in both. Often my grandmother’s papers lead me to my grandfather, while my grandfather’s metaphysical pursuits lead me back to my grandmother. Apparently, neither of my grandparents wants to be ignored.

In seeking to learn more about my grandfather, a few years ago I decided to look into hand reading, one of the only things I knew about him. I found my way to Richard Unger and hand analysis through a newspaper article about Josef Ranald which my grandmother had saved – see the January 19 post. During my training with Richard, I had to read at least 100 hands. A few years ago, a friend brought together a few of her friends to get me more hands to read. It turned out that one of the people there was a relative on my grandmother’s side whom I had never met!

During the pandemic, I’ve read a few hands and continued learning about hand analysis by attending Zoom classes with Richard and other much more experienced hand analysts who had been trained by Richard or his graduates over the past 30 years. Earlier this summer, I had a conversation with one of Richard’s former (and current) students, Jena Griffiths, a master hand analyst in Zurich. When I mentioned my theory that Vitali may have known Josef Ranald, she suggested I research Ranald to see if I could find anything. There wasn’t much to find. But my search led me to a fascinating article by Ranald’s granddaughter, Caroline Ranald Curvan. I emailed Caroline and we had a marvelous conversation, granddaughter to granddaughter.

Caroline mentioned that several years earlier she had been approached by Alexandra Nagel, a doctoral student in the Netherlands who was writing her doctoral dissertation on German psychochirologist Julius Spier. Per Alexandra, a psychochirologist was “a Jungian type of hand-analyst. He lived in Amsterdam from the beginning of 1939 until his death in September 1942, having legally fled his home country.” Alexandra and I had a great conversation and have emailed back and forth quite a bit. Early on, she sent me a Viennese newspaper article that mentioned Vitali, in a non-metaphysical context – in 1934 he gave a lecture (in Italian!) at a social club on the subject of “old and new Turkey”:

From Neues Wiener Journal 25 April 1934, p10

From Neues Wiener Journal 25 April 1934, p10

Earlier this month, I attended the 2021 IAJGS International Conference on Jewish Genealogy. This is the second conference I’ve attended, both of them virtual. The amount of information and number of people involved in genealogy is amazing. I learned a great deal and found new resources. At one session we were encouraged to do newspaper research through the Austrian national library. I have translations of newspaper articles and have wondered how to find them. I have no citation for some translated articles and sometimes the articles do not refer to my grandfather by name – calling him Mr. C or something else impossible to search for. Inspired by Alexandra’s success, I decided to brave the archive myself, despite my lack of German. Incredibly I actually found a few things! I realized that it would be helpful to search using a relatively unusual word so I looked for the German word for mandrake root – “Alraunen”. In addition to a number of unrelated articles, I found one that is similar to a photo I have in the archive — I didn’t realize it had been taken for use in a publication. As often happen when I do not have a translation or have inadequate information, I create a story for myself about the item. In this case I decided Vitali had the photo taken in 1938 or 1939 to be included in his “portfolio” for coming to the U.S., showing that he had a successful business which could be transferred to San Francisco. Instead, this photo was taken in 1934 for an article about mandrake root!

Photo on left from my archive; photo on right from Wiener Magazin 8 November 1934 p42

Photo on left from my archive; photo on right from Wiener Magazin 8 November 1934 p42

I also found an advertisement for mandrake root sales at my grandparents’ shop:

From Mocca 7 January 1934 p 86

From Mocca 7 January 1934 p 86

Translation from Google Translate: “Mandrakes: A meaningful Christmas and New Years present. Real mandrakes are sold from a well-known collection. Get yourself a lucky mandrake now. Himmelpfortgasse 6 and Stubenring 2” — the latter is the address of my grandparents’ stationery store.

At the IAJGS conference, I attended a workshop given by Yad Vashem, the keepers of the Arolsen Archives in Germany. We saw Helene’s requests for information about Vitali’s whereabouts, including one made to the International Tracing Service ITS and to Arolsen, Germany in 1955 in the June 21 and August 21 posts. In the week before the workshop, I looked at the Arolsen archives and found some documents related to Vitali. After the workshop, I searched again and found even more. These will be the subject of tomorrow’s post.

Warning: tomorrow’s post may be difficult to read.