More sifting through history

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Earlier this year, my husband and I took a trip to England. A few weeks before we left, I received an email from the World Jewish Relief Archives in response to a question I had asked about my mother’s first cousins Paul and Robert Zerzawy’s attempts to leave Europe in 1939. Robert was the first in the family to get out, arriving in England in March 1939. Paul soon followed in April, stopping briefly in England before sailing to New York.

I must have made my query through their website and have no record of when or what I asked. The writer, an archives volunteer, apologized for how long the response had taken. She explained that “World Jewish Relief (formerly known as The Central British Fund) opened case files for each person who came to the United Kingdom fleeing Nazi occupied Germany and Austria before the Second World War.” She told me that she found a registration card for my mother’s first cousin Robert Zerzawy and also “registration cards for an uncle by the name of Vitali (Chaim) Cohen and his wife Helene (nee Cohen).” That of course was important information for me since those were my maternal grandparents! If I understand the cards, it looks like the ones for Vitali and Helene were created by Robert after he learned of Helene’s release from Ravensbrück and the prisoner trade that sent her to Istanbul. The Istanbul address is the business address of one of Vitali’s relatives who helped my grandmother ultimately make her way to the U.S. The only thing Robert knew about Vitali in late 1945 or early 1946 was that he had last been heard from when he was imprisoned in Buchenwald.

Robert’s card indicates that the authorities believed he may have gone to the U.S. This corroborates family letters which talk of Robert planning to join his family in San Francisco. Unfortunately, that never came to pass.

Information provided by the World Jewish Relief Archives

I wrote back and asked whether the archives had any information about the Stopford Fund which was created to help Czech refugees get out. I believe that this fund helped Robert and Paul emigrate. The volunteer had not heard of it but kindly did a bit of sleuthing and found that the National Archives at Kew in the outskirts of London had information about the fund. I went on their site and asked some questions through their “chat” feature. Although I ultimately found no information in the Stopford Fund files related to the Zerzawy brothers, the librarian on the chat found Robert’s British naturalization certificate. It hadn’t been digitized, but since I was going to be in London, I could make an appointment to view the document.

The National Archives at Kew

It was fun to do something non-touristy while in another country. I took the train to Kew. Unlike other tourists, I headed for the archives instead of the famous gardens. I was given an official library card and requested the file. When the file was ready, I was assigned a specific spot in the reading room where I could look at it. The naturalization certificate told me a bit more about Robert, including his occupation – an expert in hemp and cotton spinning.

While I waited for the file, a librarian helped me search further in the online catalog and we discovered that there were additional documents available related to Robert’s naturalization. I tried to request them, but for some reason these documents had been closed for 100 years until 2069! I knew I couldn’t wait that long and made a Freedom of Information (FOI) request to be allowed to see the files. The request was granted, but not in time for me to go back to see the files in person.

When I received the digitized documents I’d requested, I learned more about Robert’s first years in England – about the company he worked for and some of his early experiences. For example, in 1940, his landlady had said negative things to police authorities about his “moral conduct” with no details or corroboration from others. Later character witnesses for his naturalization said nothing but positive things. It made me wonder whether this was an example of antisemitism or xenophobia. Not long ago, we watched the first episode of “Foyle’s War”. It takes place in 1940 and showed clearly how unwelcome Jewish refugees were to much of the general population in England during the war.  

Also on this trip, I visited a few of the addresses Robert lived in in the 1960s. An apartment building in the Kensington area of London and a small house in Chiswick, a lovely town near London. I didn’t have a house address for the Chiswick, just a name – Pontana. I was sure I wouldn’t be able to find it. However, it exists, and it still has the name rather than a number!

Apartment in Kensington

“Pontana” in Chiswick

It was wonderful to learn more about Robert. I still have questions about why he never joined the family in San Francisco. Hopefully one day I will find the answer. 

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:

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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.

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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.

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Vitali at the shop window with customers in 1934.

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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.

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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.

A day to remember fondly

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Today would be my Uncle Harry’s 99th birthday and Hilda Goldberg Firestone’s 119th. My grandmother and mother never missed a birthday and I learned to do the same. I will raise a toast to both of them.

Hilda and Nathan Firestone, around 1940

Harry taking delight, perhaps around 2010

Recently I’ve been rereading stories my grandmother Helene wrote about her childhood in Bohemia in the late 19th Century. When she was two or three years old, she came down with scarlet fever which resulted in her being almost deaf in one ear. That caused her to pay close attention to whatever anyone said to her. She trained herself to memorize what she heard so she wouldn’t have to take notes in class – notetaking would have caused her to look down at the paper and not be able to read the teacher’s lips. She prided herself on her wonderful memory. During the stress of war and separation from her children, she realized that she had lost some of that skill and regretted being confused about people’s birthdays.

One source of confusion was the date of her young cousin Hilda’s birthday. She knew it as January 12th or 13th (her son Harry’s birthday). As we learned last year, Hilda was born on Friday January 13th, 1904. Her family felt that was a bad omen, particularly in light of her mother’s death due to complications of childbirth, so celebrated her birthday on the 12th.

What follows are excerpts from and links to letters we saw in earlier blog posts where my grandmother and uncle make sure that Hilda knew they remembered her birthday, even from afar.

Vienna, 20. Dec. 1940

…I remember once you wrote to Harry that your birthday is either 12 or 13 January too. Therefore, accept my best wishes for that. Spend this day especially gay and happy and not a sad thought may disturb your pleasure. Enjoy your life as profoundly as you can. It is a pity for every day you don’t do it. I hope you have a good temperament and laughing is easier for you than weeping. Unable to give you a little birthday gift, I give you the second musical lesson (Melody Harry will instruct you) in German.

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From Helene to Eva in San Francisco:

Vienna, 27 December 1940

When I sent the official birthday letter to Hilda, which only included a heartfelt greeting to you, you must have been thinking to yourself: “what marvelous stuff is mom up to now?”

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From soldier Harry serving in the South Pacific to his sister Eva in San Francisco:

December 16, 1944

Please have some nice flowers sent to Tillie and Hilda on their birthdays, January 11th and 12th, and be sure to have the cards sent with them.

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From Helene to Eva and Harry in San Francisco:

Istanbul, 11 January 1946

…I am sending Hilda, Tillie, and Harry my most sincere wishes for happy birthdays. Everl and her husband I wish to all the best to their second anniversary [actually it was their first] and that our European sadness will turn into American happiness and joy. I have certainly counted on the fact that this week of family celebration is something I will be able to spend with you, and it would have also been possible if I hadn’t been thrown to the wolves again. But in Vienna, one said: “if God wishes, then the broom will stand up.” And certainly God wants me to have you again.

August 8, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

This afternoon I am going to Aunt Berta Fulda’s house and stay three or four days. She and Uncle Max live way out where there are no sidewalks, only sand all around them. They have a boy named Irving, with red hair. I love to visit there because we can play in the sand all day long, and Aunt Berta never cares how we look or what we eat.

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In addition to giving us a picture of childhood in San Francisco in the early 20th Century, every once in awhile Hilda helps to flesh out my family’s story. Irving (or Erwin) was born in 1892 and would visit my grandmother and her children in Vienna in the late 1920s or early 1930s. His name was mentioned in a number of letters as a somewhat daunting figure called “Uncle Fulda.” On the photo below, my mother wrote “1929?” because she was a child when he visited and could not recall the date. My grandmother’s nephew Paul Zerzawy wrote a letter to him affirming that if my grandparents were allowed to come to the U.S. in 1941, they would not be a burden on the state, listing all of the relatives (including Uncle Fulda) who would contribute to their support. This letter must have helped my grandparents procure the resources and documents that allowed them to get tickets on a ship leaving for the U.S. in July 1941. Unfortunately, the paperwork did not align to satisfy German bureaucracy so they never made it to the ship.

January 12, 1912

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

From Hilda’s diary on her 8th birthday:

I hate my birthday. I wish I were never born. Grandmother wishes it too. She says that I killed my mother. How could I kill my mother? I didn’t even know my mother. Grandmother is always telling me I should be grateful to her for bringing me to her house and forgiving me for killing my mother, and for not putting me into an orphan asylum. I know the Orphan Asylum; we go past it sometimes on the streetcar. It is a big gray house. Sometimes the children are playing in the yard, and they are gray too. Their dresses are grey and they are all the same, and the little girls have no hair ribbons. I love hair ribbons. Grandmother says that if it wasn’t for her, that is where I would be. Or else, my father would get married again and I would have a very cruel stepmother who would beat me, and starve me, and make me do all the hard work, and only buy pretty clothes for just her own children, like the one in Cinderella. She says that as long as she lives, that I must remember how good she was to me, and be grateful to her.

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Growing up, the names Tillie and Hilda meant little to me. I knew they were important to my mother’s and uncle’s escape from Austria. Tillie’s name was always mentioned with an aura of awe and fear – she was a force to be reckoned with. Hilda’s diary sheds a light on some of these family dynamics – or helps me imagine them.

Poor little Hilda was raised by her strict grandparents and aunt, never knew her mother and was made to feel responsible for her death. No wonder she felt such kindness and kinship for her second cousins Robert and Paul Zerzawy, who lost both their mother and step-mother while young boys.

When Eva and Harry left their parents behind in Vienna and came to the U.S., Harry lived with Hilda and Nathan Firestone. Later in life, Harry expressed regret that he hadn’t properly appreciated their hospitality – he felt that he was being “given” to the Firestones to be the child they never had. He resented the idea of these surrogate parents, knowing that his own parents were alive in Vienna and hopefully coming soon to San Francisco. As I imagine the hospitality through Hilda’s eyes, she was trying to provide a warm and welcoming home for a boy who was missing his mother, because she knew how hard it was to be in that situation.

December 31

Looking back and going forward

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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:

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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 30

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Today we have a letter from G.I. Harry Lowell written at a USO center in Southern California while stationed at the Desert Training Center.

December 30, 1943

Dear Eva,

Three cheers! You saved me from a case of acute flatness of my pocketbook; many thanks for your thoughtful Christmas present. I also want to acknowledge your long letter from the 10th.
My intentions of answering it promptly were good, but as usual something always turned up to interfere with my correspondence. You know, whenever I decide to write to you I bear in mind to word my letter in a “fireside-chat” manner instead of just scribbling the conventional news and unimportant things – as I do in letters to the family. To cut it short, I want to carry on a correspondence with you, that would be equal to informal chats between brother and sister. Ugh, I have spoken.

I had a good laugh out of that matter of Turkish translation; don’t you think that the best thing to do was to send the paper registered to Washington with an explaining letter? Well, they’ll probably draft you anyhow; so don’t worry.

I have been kept quite busy with our intensive training for the last few weeks. I had a lot of fun at the anti-aircraft gunnery school in the desert, where I stayed one week and learned the art of shooting down planes, retail and wholesale. During that week I wasn’t able to shave nor to take a shower; oink, oink, what a feeling of dirty comfort that was! (Confidentially, I would have liked a bath.)

As you know, I am “practically on the boat” as we were told by our officers. Tonight, was the last night that we could go to town. We have been issued new clothing and equipment. Well, it won’t be long now.

I am a real, live nephew of Uncle Sam now. Vive L’Amerique! I sent the paper to Tillie for safe-keeping.

I was invited Christmas Day to the house of the former farm advisor of this county; he is a most interesting and intelligent man who’s been all over the world. We had a nice talk and he gave me good advice and offered a few expert suggestions as to farms in California. Your brother gets around, doesn’t he? The day after Christmas I was introduced to some more nice people who have a nice Victrola, a beautiful home – and the lady is a good cook. I met all these people through a schoolteacher who took a liking to me at the U.S.O. and who has made me her “nephew”; she has some more adopted “nephews” in the army.

How is everything in the beautiful city of San Francisco? Did you have a nice Christmas?

As soon as I reach my destination you will be getting a change of address card denoting my mailing address.

When I got my citizenship papers, the judge had to hold a special session just for me. Usually they give talks to a whole bunch of men, but due to hurried circumstances, the court had to open for me; I felt honored, indeed.

Well, I’ll write you soon if they let me write from the port; otherwise you’ll hear from me when I get “there.”

Love,
Harry
Homo Americanus

P.S. Give my regards to the family at “2266.”

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In the February 3rd post, we saw a 1944 V-mail letter Harry wrote to Eva, addressed to 2266-22nd Avenue in San Francisco, where she was renting from the mother of a friend from nursing school – see November 7th post. In the latter post, Harry counsels his sister to find a way to get along with the family. She escapes the family dynamics by moving out.

Thanks to enlisting in the army, Harry was able to expedite his citizenship. Despite Harry’s thought, Eva was not drafted and she appears to have given up the thought of joining the Nurses Corps on her own(which would have allowed her to get as far away from the family as possible and likely necessitated translating her Turkish passport). Eva signed the Oath of Allegiance and became a citizen on January 8, 1945, just a few days before her marriage. On the same form, she officially changed her last name from Cohen to Lowell (and just days later would change it to Goldsmith!).

December 22

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Today we have a holiday postcard sent to Helene’s cousin Paul Zerzawy on December 23, 1938.

Although there is no written message on this card, we learn some things about Paul’s life: by late 1938, Paul has moved from Vienna to Prague. He is studying English at the English Institute there, presumably because he plans to emigrate as soon as possible. In the April 3rd post, we saw  more information about Paul’s residence in Prague and his efforts to find the resources to leave Europe.

December 5

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Today we have another early letter from Helene in Vienna, at a time when she and Vitali were confident that they would soon be following their children to San Francisco.

Vienna 5 December 1939

My dear children! An eventful week has just passed for me. We got mail 2 days in a row, but unfortunately not from you. Olga N acknowledged my card which I wrote on November 23, yesterday. It of course reached her late as seems obligatory. She told me that she sent a message to you immediately upon receiving it on the 30th of November. The second letter was from Mila and Nervi [?] and we found out that Robert is Ayrshire. He is feeling well and glad to hear the same about you and Paul. I am happy at least to receive good news from all of you in indirectly. And as an unkillable optimist, I believe that one or the other of the letters written will reach you.

Otherwise, it is fairly quiet in Seidlgasse. Yesterday it was a very lovely springlike day. Papa called to invite me to take an evening walk. We walked first through the dark streets and then we came to the Red Tower movie house. There was a shoot ‘em up film being shown and since it was about the construction of the Pacific-Railway, we went in. Harry would be very surprised because we don’t like things about shooting anymore. But at the end, when the train in its current form rushed across the movie screen, my heart stopped for just a few seconds at the thought that my children were just recently sitting in such a monster of steel and iron. Really, a lot of what has happened to you is so problematic for me and my imagination is certainly quite different from what it was.

The truth is that I feel old as the hills and I feel like a hen would feel if she were hatching duck eggs and I am clucking. When the young ones go to the water and happily swim away from her for the first time, she probably can’t believe her eyes in that situation. But I’m an intelligent hen, and even if I do cluck sometimes, I am happy to know that you are with people who are good and noble.

Please kids, be detailed in your reports, write me about each and every thing, and you may imagine that your letters will reach me someday and that I will be informed by letter about everything. I know it’s a lot to ask in such a completely different environment from where you’ve been before, but I think it’s justified.

After 9 in the morning, the whole day is pretty uninteresting to me. There are just so many minutes until the next time I get mail and a lot of what has happened is really not that essential to me.

What I also want to tell you is please don’t get mad if I mention something that is kind of obvious -- don’t forget to write to Olga. First, it is possible for me to get news and besides it is as somebody once said that you only recognize the value of a person except on the worst days. Olga invited me to spend some time with her before we say good-bye to Seidlgasse forever.  I wasn’t wrong about Hedy either. She arrived at my birthday with a piece of butter which her parents had given her so she’d have something to eat on her trip. Touching, isn’t it? In these days, we are doubly thankful for proof that humanity still exists.

For statistical reasons, I am mentioning that this is the 3rd Clipper letter which I have sent. The others don’t count.

To all the dear ones, many, many greetings and to each one of you, thank you very much.

Many, many kisses
Mutti

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After just a few weeks’ separation, Helene realizes that mail is unreliable and asks Eva and Harry to write to friends and relatives in the hope that news about her children will reach her through their letters. Helene mentioned her friend Olga in several Vienna letters, including one in which we learned that her last name was Nussbaum. I did a quick search on Ancestry and found a physician named Olga Nussbaum who was born in Vienna and was a year younger than Helene. She was living in England by 1941, moved to Los Angeles in 1948, and returned to Vienna a few years later. She may be the correct Olga, but who knows?  

Cecil B. DeMille directed a movie that came out in 1939 entitled Union Pacific — perhaps that is the film that Helene and Vitali saw. The trailer would strike terror in anyone considering a cross-country train trip, such as the one Helene’s children had taken just six weeks earlier.

Piecing together my family’s story has not been altogether straightforward. My mother had some letters and papers, her brother had others, and some were originally in their cousin Paul Zerzawy’s possession and ultimately were kept and organized separately. In 2006, I discovered the 1945-1946 letters written by Helene from Istanbul. I could read the few that were in English, and from those I learned more detail about my grandmother’s wartime experience. I made copies for Harry, thinking he’d like to see old letters from his mother, having no idea about the hundreds of letters he had stashed away. After Harry’s death in 2017, I didn’t know which of the letters were worth translating, so my translator friend Roslyn and I began with the typed letters, which were easier to decipher. Thus, Roslyn didn’t translate the first letters Helene wrote by hand to her children until after she had translated most of the later Vienna letters.  

December 1

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Today we see one of the first letters Helene wrote from Vienna after her children had left for America. At this point, Eva and Harry had been in San Francisco for about six weeks. 18-year old Eva was living with Helene’s cousin Bertha and her husband George Schiller; 15-year old Harry was with Helene’s cousin’s daughter Hilda and her husband Nathan Firestone. On the front page, she writes in German to her children, and on the back in English to the Firestones. Because the Schillers and Firestones did not live in the same neighborhood, Eva and Harry attended different high schools.

Vienna, Dec 1, 1939

My dear children, I am going to ignore the fact that I haven’t gotten any letters and I am going to write anyway, hoping that one letter or the other will reach its intended goal. The most important thing this week: Beppo wrote that we should not think that he is just sitting there with his hands in his lap. He’s doing everything he can and is asking just that we have a little bit of patience. Fortune’s brother is not allowed to work at all. As soon as I know more details, I will let you know. You know Vitali only by name, right? There’s nothing new here. Except for Jo and Paula, I don’t really see anybody because of the ... blackouts. We spend the evening writing or playing Tric-Trac. In our thoughts we are always with you, every minute. What time is it in America, and we are imagining: “I wonder what the kids are doing now.” We would love to know how you’re doing and if you have gotten used to it and how you spend your time. Eventually the post will come and we will no longer have this insecurity. Unfortunately, I cannot write anything more right now. Otherwise, the letter will be too heavy.

Greetings and kisses to all the dear ones from us.

Many many kisses
Mutti

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Vienna, Dec 1, 1939

Dear Hilda and dear Nathan,

Nearly 5 weeks Harry is in your home and I hope you will not have much trouble with him. In my thoughts I am in your circle, I listen to your talks, doing my works mechanical and counting the days which we are obliged to be here. With all my heart I wish to know how you are and I hope the children will bring life in your house, but perhaps it is that which you don’t want, perhaps you are wanting silence. Please in this case excuse them. Youth is aloud and vivid, but they are intelligent enough to respect your customs and will surely being endeavored not to disturb you so much. Excuse my bad English. It is very difficult for me to concentrate and to express my thoughts in a language which I can use no practice.

Please give my best greetings and wishes to all our relatives.

In love and gratitude I am

yours truly
Helen

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This is one of the few letters from 1939-1941 that Helene wrote by hand. Soon she would begin typing her letters, in the hope that they would be more legible for the censors and therefore might make it to their destination. She signs her letter “Mutti” (“Mom”). In most future letters to her children, she signs her name. I think Helene’s question about knowing Vitali by name is to let Eva and Harry know how hard he is working to get them to America – how “vitally” he is working on their behalf.

In the letter to Hilda on the back, Helene acknowledges that her English isn’t great, attributing it to the stressful situation and lack of practice. By the time she wrote from Istanbul in 1946, she was far more fluent. As I wrote in an early post, I believe that she worked on improving her English while at Ravensbrück.

November 23

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On Helene’s 135th Birthday

Family birthdays were the glue that held the family together. During World War I, Helene’s nephews Paul and Erich Zerzawy sent greetings to Helene and their siblings from the front and from a POW camp in Siberia; While waiting to follow their children to the U.S., Helene made sure to write special letters to each of her children on their birthdays and bought Vitali birthday gifts on their behalf. In 1942 and 1943, Helene and Vitali sent notes on Red Cross cards from Vienna when they were limited to 25 words and not allowed to write often; Helene sent greetings from Istanbul while waiting for resources to escape yet another prison; in the 1960s, Robert Zerzawy regretted that he could barely manage to send birthday acknowledgments, apologizing for writing so seldom.

Helene’s 80th birthday in 1966 was a very big deal. In the November 15th post, Robert asked Eva to buy a beautiful bouquet, because he realized he couldn’t order one for it to arrive in time. He also asked her for a family photo which we saw in the September 7th post, although one grandchild was missing from the portrait.

Below are photos of Helene with her 3 grandchildren in 1966. Her “portrait” on the wall behind her was drawn by her son Harry. It is wonderful to see her joy after all her years of sadness and loss.

Here is a card from 4 years later, drawn by Harry’s 9-year old son Tim.

November 13

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Today’s document is a bank transfer from Helene to Victor Levy in Cairo, Egypt dated November 13, 1946.

In the April 17th post, Vitali’s relative Yomtov Cohen writes from Istanbul to Helene in San Francisco to ask her to reimburse Levy Brothers Co. in Cairo for the cost of her ship voyage to the United States.

At the time of Yomtov’s letter, she had not yet arrived in the United States – she boarded the Vulcania in Alexandria Egypt on April 14th, 1946 and arrived in New York two weeks later. According to an online currency calculator, $300 would be worth $4,294 in 2021. No wonder it took her and her children six months to repay the fare.

November 12

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The Value of a Translator

I found the letters we see today in the same box where Harry kept his memorabilia from his and Eva’s trip to America on the Rex (see October 9 post) in October 1939. Not knowing German, I tried to understand why a woman (a baroness, no less!) had sent an outline of her hand to Harry or Eva. I assumed she was someone they had met on the ship. We learned earlier that their relatives in Istanbul had decided that Eva needed to learn a trade that would be useful for someone emigrating to the U.S. – she learned to make silk flowers (see May 30th post). In the 1990s, my mother made outlines of everyone in the family’s hand shape with the intention of making each of us a pair of leather gloves (unfortunately, she never got around to making them). When I saw the drawing on today’s letter, I assumed the baroness was commissioning my mother to make her a pair of gloves because they had discussed it on the ship. How wrong I was!!

After Harry died in January 2017, I began going through many boxes of papers, photos, and letters. There was no organization, so each box or envelope contained a surprise. By April 2017, I was overwhelmed by the number of letters and documents I had in German. I had no idea what most of them said or whether they were important. I needed a translator and was at a loss to find one. The final straw was finding a box of letters that I thought was filled with Helene’s correspondence – I was so happy to think I had been given a window into my grandmother’s world. Imagine my disappointment when half the box was filled with a smaller box containing the Zerzawy brothers’ World War I correspondence! At that point, I still thought of them as distant and unimportant relatives.

As I went to sleep that night, my brain was churning with how to move forward. In the middle of the night, I woke up recalling that I had gone to college with a woman who completed a PhD in German. Roslyn and I had connected a few times over the decades, but not recently. The last time we had been in touch, she was a faculty member at a local university. I hit a dead end searching the college directory because she had retired. Not being on Facebook, I asked my husband to search for her through his account. Happily, he found her and we reconnected. That middle-of-the-night aha moment led to almost four years of our working together and to my getting to know my family in a way I could never have imagined.

When we met for the first time in a café in June 2017, I showed Roslyn a few documents to give her a sense of the kinds of things that needed translating. This was months before I found the envelope that was stuffed with almost 100 of the letters Helene wrote from Vienna in 1939-1941. I brought the letter with the drawing on it since it was short and looked easy to read. What a surprise when I discovered its actual contents! 

Mandrake Collector

As you may remember, you have my hand in one of your books.  I now live in America and am slowly making a name for myself as a graphologist, and I am now getting to a place socially where it would be advantageous to use my connections to achieve something positive. I think that in my position as Baroness Hasenauer and graphologist, I could work well with mandrake root if I get enough articles into the newspapers.  Couldn’t we work together? And should we sell them for an expensive price, or “lend” them?  Where could I get mandrake roots to satisfy requests I may get? Maybe you could provide part of your collection. If you need references, maybe the German Consulate here?  May I hope to hear from you soon?

Best Wishes,
Elvira Hasenauer

---

12 November

Madame.

I have received your letter with the original topography [of the hand]. Unfortunately, I was not able to find your handprints in my collection, which consists of 2997 pairs of hands.  Unless you could tell me in your next letter when you had come to see me.

Regarding your request about mandrake root and our possible collaboration, I would be glad to pursue this suggestion as soon as I arrive in the USA, which has been my plan for some time. I have already submitted [application] to the American Consulate; I would be very grateful if you could use your connections to ensure quick immigration for me and my wife. I would then bring over my mandrake collection, my handprint collection and all related works.  It is an interesting field that would be suitable for both parties.

Included is a brochure containing some of the expert appraisals I have received.  If you wish, I can send you an English translation of this which I am working on.

Sincerely,

---

There is little easy-to-find information on the Baroness. In a newspaper search, I found an article taken from marriage records about her marriage in the December 8, 1938 edition of Baltimore Evening Sun, and announcements in the Reno Gazette of her subsequent divorce proceedings the following summer. The former stated that she married a 28-year old New York composer named Carlos Muller. She was 33-years old and “identified herself as a countess of Holland, divorced in Austria in 1937. She stated she was a graphologist.”

The Baroness’s letter is undated and the copy of Vitali’s reply does not have a year. I assume the letters were written in 1939, when Vitali got his testimonials translated (see May 22nd post) and was working to get papers so he and Helene could join their children in San Francisco.

Vitali’s handprint and mandrake collections are described in the 1934 newspaper article that we saw in the June 29th post. The Baroness had great confidence in Vitali’s abilities, thinking that the outline of her hand would be sufficient for Vitali to recall their meeting! Below is a photo of Vitali making a handprint in one of his books:

Archived with these letters was a newspaper clipping about an odd-shaped branch (not mandrake). Given that the Baroness mentions newspaper articles, it’s quite possible that she included this with her letter. In preparing today’s post, I did a quick search for “mandrake” in the New York Times, and found very few mentions, most of them before 1930.

November 11

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Although today’s card is addressed to Nathan Firestone, it is written from Helene in Vienna to her son Harry in San Francisco. 

Vienna 11 November 1939

My dear Harry boy! “Waiting” has become our profession since your departure. We fall asleep in the hope of getting mail the next morning, but until today we have only gotten the two telegrams from the USA. But we are not worried. We know that you are so well housed, but we would also like to know if you have gotten used to being there yet. You have seen and experienced so many new and wonderful things, and that makes me happy. We are healthy.

Please make excuses for me with the relatives, because I haven’t written to them yet because it wasn’t possible. I hope you get this card and believe me that no hour goes by in which I do not think of you. 

Kiss, my little Harry, many kisses.

---

Today’s card was the first that Harry received from his mother after he and Eva arrived in San Francisco a few weeks earlier. We learned about Eva’s and Harry’s trip to the U.S. in the October 9 post. Upon arrival in San Francisco, Harry went to live with Helene’s cousin Hilda Firestone (technically, her first cousin once removed) and her husband Nathan. Eva lived with another cousin, Bertha Schiller and her husband George.

I wrote about finding my grandmother’s letters from Vienna elsewhere on this site. From November 1939 to October 1941, Helene wrote more than 130 letters to her family in San Francisco. I have about 100 of them. Some of the others may never have made it to their destination; some may have gotten lost along the way. As she wrote this first letter to her children, she had no idea they would be separated for years or that the family would never be totally reunited again.

November 6

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Today we see a copy of the first page of a letter Helene’s nephew Paul Zerzawy wrote to his step-brother Franz Orlik and his wife Hanne in Haifa. Paul’s father Julius married Franz’s mother in 1921, long after Paul and his brother Robert had left home and were living independent lives. Paul arrived in the U.S. in April 1939 and had been trying to make his way in New York City before giving up and joining his young cousins Eva and Harry and other family members in San Francisco. Perhaps he only stayed in New York long enough to make sure Eva and Harry arrived safely by ship and put them on a train to San Francisco (see October 23rd post). In New York, Paul’s mother’s cousin Bertha Schiller’s son Arthur provided advice and assistance. In San Francisco, Bertha and her husband George opened their home to my mother Eva while she finished high school. Upon Paul’s arrival in San Francisco, Bertha and George welcomed Paul too. In the letter he refers to his step-mother as “Mother” and mentions Leo, her brother.

6 November 1939

Dear Fritz, dear Hanne:

Your card was sent to me from Mr. Schiller from New York, I have been in San Francisco just a short time now, staying with Mr. Schiller’s parents. I was happy to see that you are at least in good health. Since I haven’t had any news about you for a very long time, and then contradictory news, I had already begun to worry quite a bit about your fate. Unfortunately, since the war, all connections with Bohemia and Germany have been cut off so that I have had no news at all from Mother nor from Leo nor from any other relatives in Prague or Vienna. I have received some letters from Robert during the war, but I haven’t heard from him in about 4 weeks.

I was very concerned about your wishes about your alleged share of the amount of money I got from Prague. I am not surprised however, because Mother in her last letter made some comments from which I understood that she had some quite false ideas about the nature of this money transfer. I tried to make this clear to her in my reply letter, but I’m not sure whether she got this letter, nor how she may have received the news since as I said, I have had no answer from this letter (to which I sent a number of further letters and cards, as I still regularly write either to Mother or Leo every two weeks). I’m afraid that it wasn’t possible for me to convince her, because I had to write sort of in insinuations because of censorship, and I want to hope that the only reason that there hasn’t been any news from her and from Leo did not have to do with this ill humor and could be blamed on postal issues.

I can write to you without circumlocutions and insinuations. You will then understand me better. I think you must know me well enough to know that if you were due anything, I would send you your part of it without being asked, or I would at least let you know about it, especially the latter because up until now I didn’t have your correct address, only your auxiliary address. Unfortunately, the allegations that you make which probably come from Mother are not correct, but I am convinced that Mother did this in good faith. It’s not true first of all that the money left over that has been sent here is everyone’s common property from the inheritance. And secondly, it is not true that I already am provided for. The first claim is probably a result of an incorrect interpretation of the circumstances. But it is puzzling to me where the second claim comes from, because unfortunately I have not and could not report anything so positive about myself. The best proof of this is that I left New York and moved to San Francisco, which I probably would not have done if I had been able to get any kind of work in New York. I am staying with the family of my sponsor who are taking care of my needs without asking for money, but I cannot take advantage of this hospitality for more than a limited amount of time, and after that I will be at the mercy of the refugee committee if I am not able to find a job, which of course I hope I will.

---

We have seen parts of this “conversation” earlier in the year – we saw a card from Paul’s step-mother in the February 10th post.  In the letter above, he refers to earlier correspondence like the card saw in the September 19th post.

By the time Paul and Robert’s father Julius married Franz’s mother in 1921, he had been widowed twice – once in 1902 and again in 1910. He was a soldier in World War I. By the end of 1918, only his children Paul and Robert were still living – his son Erich died while a POW in Eastern Siberia, and his two daughters died while in their teens. In his October 3rd letter, Paul muses about the state of their finances and their grandmother’s fate if they cannot afford to keep the family home in Brüx. It must have been very disorienting after the war for Julius to find himself with an empty nest – perhaps no nest at all. It makes sense he would want to marry again. Julius died in January 1939 and it appears from this letter that his step-mother and step-sibling expected a larger share of his estate.

October 29

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Today we have the companion letter to the letter to Harry we saw yesterday; this one is from Helene in Vienna to her 19-year-old daughter Eva in San Francisco.

Clipper 57a                             Vienna, 29 October 1940

My dear Eva-child, I have been spoiled by how quickly the last letters have reached us and so the interval between the last one and today is starting to feel a bit long. Certainly a letter will arrive tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, or the day after that and I will once again find out a little bit about your life. You have a lot to do nowadays my little bunny? A few weeks ago, Papa ran into your teacher Gina who asked all about you. I visited her after that and she was very interested when I described your institute of higher learning. I am supposed to say hello to you from her and her sister. She told me that your card from Istanbul was the last time she heard from you directly. I think a letter from you would make her very happy, especially if you were to tell her about your school. She inquired about how Harry’s progress in just as much detail. She is a fine and good person and there aren’t many like her. Yesterday I visited the old seamstress across from us, the grandmother of your former schoolmate Trude Koch. She told me that her granddaughter has also been away from Vienna for a year now. I sought her out because I wanted to ask if she could rent a room or even just a closet to an old lady who has been living in the home of Frau Clara Friedman up until now. Unfortunately, her apartment is quite full and I could not help the good woman. I also knocked on the door but there was no answer.

On Sunday the old Zentner couple was here to visit us. Unbelievable how agile the old gentleman is and he decided to go straight up to the 4th floor to visit us and even the darkness didn’t seem to bother him much. They have good news about their children and they are looking forward to the time when their number is up to emigrate. Frau Jeck had everything ready for her departure, but apparently she missed the proper date and is still here.

We have snow for the first time today. That’s always a reason for serious observations. How strange that the winter months particularly increase my anxiety for you and my wish to be reunited with you even greater. It’s probably because we didn’t used to be apart from each other so much in the winter. The last ski trip to Radstätter-Tauern and the few days we spent in Kaumberg were just about the only time we hadn’t spent together during the winter months. In the summer it just seemed easier. But don’t think I’m not happy that you’re over there.

I wrote to Lisette last week and asked that she take care of our issues. If it’s still possible, I ask? Olga’s brother was here yesterday. He gave me some letters to read and they weren’t as rosy as before either. It’s pretty lousy in all of Europe. “America, you’ve got it better!”

I read with regret and sympathy that you wanted to go out and spend some time with Tillie but you were unable to do so because of your work. Don’t you have a fixed day of the week that’s free? And Sunday, don’t you even have Sunday free? You were in Mill Valley with Paul last time. Do you spend a lot of time together? In any case, the many invitations that you get together do manage to keep family contact alive.

Papa just told me that he’s ready to leave and for him it is an unwritten law that he only mails things on Friday. Well, apparently I drove my little typewriter workhorse for no reason because the letter is not going to be sent until the 1st anyway.

Kisses, kisses, and more kisses,
Helen

---

Note: October 29, 1940 fell on a Tuesday

It’s lovely to see how fondly my mother’s teacher remembered her. Perhaps Gina is Gina Mayer, whose inscription we saw in Eva’s Poesiealbum in the May 18 post.

We may have seen photos of Eva and Paul in Mill Valley in the February 7 post. Despite her sorrow at their separation, it must have lightened Helene’s heart to know that her children regularly saw their older cousin Paul and that other family members welcomed them into their homes..

We hear that people continue to leave Vienna, to plan to leave, or are prevented from leaving. Money is so scarce that finding a spare closet to call home was a luxury.

I have always imagined that this photo of Eva was taken on a ski trip – she’s dressed warmly, drinking a hot beverage, and is wearing sturdy walking shoes. Perhaps this is one of the rare separations Helene mentions.

October 23

 First Impressions 

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I am always thrilled to see letters written by my mother and to “hear” her young voice. In this letter from October 23, 1939, 18-year old Eva is writing to her cousin Paul Zerzawy. We see her first impressions San Francisco. If I didn’t live here already, I would want to visit! 

San Francisco, October 23

Dear Paul!

Aunt Bertha was disappointed that we arrived without you. I told the story to the committee, although it wasn’t necessary. From the beginning, it was neither listened to nor was even mentioned as a formality. I think you will like it here. The whole house reminds me of a dollhouse, both the size and the furnishings.

Hilda’s house is also sort of a miniature like this one, but it is somewhat more modern. Both homes are in rather exclusive residential areas, but they are on different sides of the city.

Since the exposition is going to close at the end of this week, we went on the first day. I like it better than the one in New York. It is quite similar in character but it is not so big. The external impression is much sweeter and more romantic. The emphasis is on fountains, lakes, and flowers. It is similar to the impression the city makes.

What I have seen so far reminds me quite a bit of Istanbul. The city is rather scary and has many streets which are so steep that you can’t really walk without slipping. Yesterday and the day before yesterday, it was hot weather like in the middle of summer, but now suddenly it has made way for fall weather. Bertha says that the climate here is usually like that.

Now I am at the beginning of the story when I am actually ending. So, the story of the journey – it actually was somewhat boring. It was however wonderfully relaxing to just sit in this nice train. In Chicago we thought we could see the city, but we apparently just ended up in a very poor neighborhood. There was almost no light to be found. Only when we got closer to the train station did we see the beautiful lights of the city.

So that you don’t get lost when you leave the train station, go out on the left side.

For today I will end with best greetings from Aunt Bertha and me.

Most sincerely
Eva

---

After sailing to America on board the Rex, Eva and Harry were met in New York by their cousin Paul Zerzawy and then boarded the train to go to San Francisco. Upon arrival in San Francisco, Eva and Harry were split up to stay with different relatives – Eva with Bertha and George Schiller, and Harry with Hilda and Nathan Firestone. Since they lived in different parts of the city, they attended different high schools.

In their few days in New York, they attended the world’s fair. Since the Golden Gate International Exposition on Treasure Island was about to close when they arrived in San Francisco, they immediately visited and Eva shares her impressions here. Within just a few weeks, Harry and Eva got to attend two world’s fairs. What an introduction to life in the United States! 

Below are two photos from the San Francisco exposition:

October 11

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Today we have two letters from 1940 from Helene in Vienna: the first to her children and the second to her nephew Paul. Eva is in her first year of nursing school and Harry is a senior at Washington High School. Paul is trying to eke out a living as a piano teacher and accompanist.

Clipper # 54                Vienna, 11, October 1940

Children, my beloved children! If the sun were not shining in a summery way and the trees did not have such fresh green foliage, I would believe that it was Christmas because the day before yesterday was so full of pleasant surprises. Within 24 hours we got 3 letters from you, each one delighting us more than the last. The first thing I got was a letter from Hilda written on September 19. In quite a funny way she told about you and Paul and her letter really improved my mood. While I was still studying her letter (deciphering it is really quite a difficult course of study), the next mail arrived and your letter #4 from September 26th and I was absolutely swimming in bliss. I left everything else sitting where it was and I ran as fast as I could through torn up Marx Street to Papa at the shop. The next morning, letter #3 from September 19th appeared. I cannot imagine a happier person than I am right now. We laughed until we cried about Eva’s anecdote #1 and I had to think of the cannibalistic text of the cross-polka. It’s a dance which my older sisters learned which was en vogue then, among the dances that were typical in those days, might be described as the jitterbug that Harry loved so much. The text which the residents of Bilin put to this melody, and I believe there was only one, went something like this [in Bilin dialect]: 

“Oh look there he comes,
He’s taking very big steps.
Here he comes again,
The drunken son-in-law
He finds a woman,
He cuts open her body
He takes her lung and liver out
And makes a great big beefsteak out of it.”

It’s a good thing that your lecturer on operations is not from Bilin, because he might possibly follow the instructions in that song. Maybe Paul still remembers the polka. By the way, talking about polka! Is Eva taking up her piano lessons again? Is she going to do the funeral marches for the hospital? Your hospital surely has its own cemetery, doesn’t it? The geographic anatomy knowledge of your fellow student we found very amusing, as did the washwomen anecdote. We found the geometric knowledge of Harry’s classmate equally amusing. Of course, I give my vote to Harry L. Lowell for board of education! With his usefulness in so many ways, he could be a porter, office-boy, newspaper boy, all that might be possible in the land of unlimited possibilities. A career worth of a Hearst, if not a president. 

We have nothing interesting to tell you. We used to go to the anniversary observation point, the Hapsburg observation site, and all the observation points as they used to be. Today the points are coming to us [makes a pun in German - observation points/guards]. Now the guards come to us - the house guard, the block guard, and all the other kinds of guards and so we have all sorts of visits.

Our renters are quiet, well-brought up and educated people, with whom it’s pretty easy to live under one roof. We finally sort of agreed that I will do the cooking, my renter will wash the dishes, but drying them and keeping the kitchen in order will be my job.

Everything is okay here at the apartment, but everybody who comes here seems to bring all sorts of dirt into my apartment and there’s plenty of opportunity for that because the stairway has been painted recently. On one of the freshly painted walls, there was a giant modern eagle painted. It’s a good thing Harry wasn’t home anymore because they probably would have thought he did it. At his request, I looked up the old cashier from the movie house nearby. She has now become a nice young man [presumably a new cashier, now male]. But I now must tell you a funny story because we’re talking about the movie theater. Last time we were there, the following happened: the newsreel had just ended and instead of the movie we heard “come out, come out”. They turned the light on and the usher repeated “come on out, come on out, come on out, get out of here.” The one who was meant by this seemed not to move. First, we thought a Jewish boy had smuggled himself in there where he wasn’t allowed, but this didn’t seem to have been the case. The usher bellowed “come out, I said!” The culprit seemed not to pay any attention to this order. The usher lost patience with him and he decided to use brute force against him and yanked a young man out of one of the front rows by his arm. Now a few excitable 14-year old boys took up his cause and using their Vienna soccer jargon said “let him out, let him out I say!” And right in the middle of all of this kerfuffle a guard showed up. When the unruly boy saw the eye of the law, he quietly followed the keeper of order out. A few seconds later with a triumphant expression, he went into the audience. Admittance to this film was strictly forbidden to young people under the age of 16. The young hero of my story was however exactly 16 years and 2 days old. So, there was a lot of satisfaction among the 14-15 year old boys who had made some ruckus before. After this exciting scene (which was, by the way, the most amusing thing that happened that evening) the film did run but it got a late start.

Eva wanted to know why I sent a return envelope. Well Paul surely has to write to a lot of people and he probably doesn’t have much money. He shouldn’t be mad at me that I write a few lines to him to put in your letter. I’ve told him so often that I am happy when he adds a few lines to your letters when he doesn’t have time for more than that. I am leaving you now to deal with Paul and I leave you with many kisses. By the way, the number of kisses that you send seems to be affected by inflation. I don’t want to fall behind so I’m sending you 1,000,000,000,000,000 kisses.

Helen

Dear Paul! I was brought up too well to remind anyone of the old promise, but if anybody should should happen to know how much someone would like to be heard from maybe such a person might send a little bit more.

Hilda sent a vivid description of your family life and I was really happy to get that, especially the kindness that you experience in the Firestone house. Unfortunately I can’t answer this delightful letter today because I need quite a bit more time than I have to write back in English. Today I just don’t have time. I want to do that on Sunday and that’s my plan. Hilda must be a real treasure. Tillie and Bertha told me that they were sure I would like her if I knew her. I do, even though I don’t know her personally, and from what I can tell from letters, she seems to be a person with a lot of charm and it would be wonderful for me if you would tell me more about her and her husband. But please don’t forget to report back on everything you like to do. Also, if you’ve heard anything from Robert.

From Harry’s last letter, I understand that you had something to do with sending me money. Paul, I thank you but that’s really not okay with me because I know you work so hard to earn it and you don’t have much yourself. I hereby promise you, on my honor, that I will ask you for help if I need it, but at the moment I don’t.

I am so happy that the children are so well cared for and of course it is my wish and intention to be able to do this myself and I would like to show gratitude [in person] to the relatives. I hope that it’s still possible in this lifetime.

A snippet of your life and work would make me so happy and would be very interesting to me. Also, if you perhaps have heard something from old friends and also about your new friends. I want to know everything, I want to know details. That’s only a modest proposal, right? Otherwise, I don’t need anything except that I would hope that you would greet the Zentners, Schillers, Firestones, and Sol from me.

With warm greetings and kisses
Your
Helene

---

After getting a windfall of mail from her beloved family, Helene is positively ebullient in this letter. Yet, there are indications that life in Vienna is stressful and dangerous, particularly for Jews. I could not find a reference for the song Helene recalled from her childhood, but did find a reenactment of the cross-polka. Helene writes of America being the “land of unlimited possibilities” — it certainly was for her children, but she was less enthusiastic about it once she arrived six years later.

October 9

Voyage to America – young and carefree

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I spent most of my life thinking that my 18-year old mother and her 15-year old brother were wrenched by the separation from their parents as took the train in Vienna to Genoa to board the ship headed for New York. After reading Helene’s letters, I realize that although being apart must have been a challenge, the entire family was confident in October 1939 that they would be reunited within a few months. They had no idea they would never see their father again and would not see their mother until 1946 after she had been through hell.

Thus, Eva and Harry could look forward to their voyage and future with enthusiasm and optimism. My mother always spoke fondly of the ocean voyage. For a brief period in her life, she was carefree – no responsibilities, no expectations, and the promise of America before her. Rather than being a foreigner in a new land and school, she was surrounded by others making the same voyage with the same hopes, who were not judging her accent, clothes, or manner. She loved every moment and as soon as she could afford it, she took cruises all over the world. I imagine none of them lived up to her first experience of traveling 3rd class on the “Rex”.

Growing up, my mother had a small album of photos from Europe, which included these 2 photos of her on board the ship:

 On back of the photo with Eva in a bathing suit, with the date 10/10/1939:

When I was going through Harry’s boxes of documents and letters after he died in 2017, I found a roll of negatives labeled 1939. I held them up to the light and only one photo seemed familiar – the one with Eva on deck with a scarf. Since the photo of her in the bathing suit is not on the roll, I assume that Luis Antonio Martinez sent her that photo.

I realized that the roll of film included images from their voyage and first moments in San Francisco and got the negatives digitized. Imagine my delight at seeing their voyage and new world through Eva and Harry’s eyes.

Harry documented much of the trip, presumably in order to send photos back to their parents in Vienna, which I imagine is why we had no hard copies of the photos. Below, we see a grainy photo of an Italian town, presumably Genoa. From the ship, we see a vendor selling rugs to a crowd of people below, other ships in the harbor, the deck of the Rex, and even the “view” from their porthole.

Here is a photo of Harry on board the ship:

Harry saved a menu from the ship – I don’t know whether they had menus for each meal, or just for October 12 in honor of Columbus Day – which must have been quite the celebration since the ship departed from Genoa, the birthplace of Christopher Columbus. Apparently even the 3rd class passengers were invited to participate in the dancing or watching the featured film La Mia Canzone al Vento of the evening which featured Giuseppe Lugo, a famous Italian tenor. Harry used the menu as a sort of autograph book – someone wrote a nice note and a few people included their addresses.

Harry kept in touch with at least one of the people, Elsy Howard, who sent him a card the following year from the New York World’s Fair, on which she wrote around the edges: "Many thanks for letter, which I will answer later. Hope you like Amerika now. Best regards, also to Maria, Elsy Howald."

After nine fun-filled days at sea, Eva and Harry arrived in New York. In one of my first forays into searching through Ancestry at the public library in 2017, I found the ship’s manifest page of arriving passengers on the Rex that showed Eva Marie Kohen and Harry Kohen’s departure from Genoa on October 6 and arrival in New York on October 15, 1939. They are listed as students, Turkish citizens who could speak English , born in Vienna, Germany (Austria had been annexed), planning to live permanently in the US. They had visas issues July 31, 1939 from their last permanent residence of Istambul, Turkey. Amazing what you can learn from a line from a ship’s manifest!

In August, I attended a Jewish genealogy conference, and at one session the speaker mentioned that manifests covered two-pages. I went back to Ancestry and found page 2:

We learn that their father was named Simeon (presumably a mishearing of Haim Seneor) who lived in Vienna, Germany; that their final destination was San Francisco; that they paid their own way; that they had $8 in their possession provided by HIAS; that they were planning to reside at 200 Washington St. in San Francisco (I’m not sure whose address that was); that they did not plan to return to their home country and intended to become U.S. citizens; that they were never in prison, were not polygamists, anarchists, did not believe in overthrowing the government; they did not have a promise of employment; had never been arrested and deported; that they were in good mental and physical health and had no deformities; their height, complexion, hair and eye color, and had no other identification marks.

A new piece of information was that they had received $8 from HIAS – worth over $150 in today’s dollars, – although probably not enough money for the journey from New York to San Francisco.

I spent most of my life having a vague idea of Eva’s and Harry’s voyage. I had only seen the first two photos above. After discovering Harry’s trove of saved objects and photos and doing some research, I now feel like I have a sense of what it was like. A wonderful window onto the beginning of their new life.

October 7

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Today we see another letter from Helene to her children in San Francisco.

Vienna, 7 October 1941

My dear children!

Well today although I know that you are working on our issues, despite that I am going to start talking about it again. So please don’t believe we are impatient. You can just assume that this matter is really urgent and that it’s getting more so from day to day and even hour to hour. Papa has given me the assignment to write to you that if there is no other way besides the path via Cuba, then you should go down this path as well. Papa has absolutely no doubts that he will be able to use his knowledge as a tobacco expert and then be able to reimburse any expenditures. Do you remember? Robert, who was really just a cigarette smoker, was enthusiastic about the sample cigars which Papa’s correspondent sent to him. We have come to terms with the fact that we may need to stay wherever we end up for a while at least where he has the possibility of making his livelihood. To live with you in the same city certainly would be wonderful, but it’s something we can only do when we have paid off the expenses that people have paid on our behalf. Papa is a specialist and this will happen. Unfortunately, he has been out of touch with his friends in his profession since the war broke out, but we know that they will give him a hand as soon as we’re over there. I must emphasize the request that I have also made in letters in the past to send us a telegraph if you have any positive news to tell us. It’s possible that the cable might be of use to us or we might need it as a document. Besides that, all of our exit documents for travel have expired. It doesn’t make much sense to renew them unless we know that it’s a done deal. The renewal of the papers will take quite a while, so it’s very important that we start working on it even before we have everything in black and white in our hands. Many of our friends and acquaintances are going to the district where Paul’s friend Edi has his business, but they are not happy because they are afraid that the climate will not agree with them.

We are - well, that’s nothing new - here without any mail from you for a long time. Our acquaintances do get mail regularly and so we’re thinking maybe the fact that we don’t get any is because we have foreign citizenship. But we haven’t heard anything from the relatives in Istanbul for at least a year either.

Papa just brought me a piece of paper which he got in the religious community: “get Cuba papers for entry as soon as possible.” This is from the Cuban Embassy in Berlin – send a telegram for immediate processing.

Robert is supposed to send the address of Papa’s friend Drummond, which he will be able to make use of as soon as we land over there.

In my letter of March 21st, I asked you to get 2 brochures for Papa. Since you didn’t react, Papa really needs these - I am repeating: “The Mystic Mandrake” by C.J.S. Thompson and “Deadly Magic” by Colonel Hayter - both appeared in Rider Publications and the address of that is: International News Company, 131 Varick St., New York.

OK, that’s enough duties for you to fulfill today and I will send more information later on. I close by assuring you that we are in good health and we hope that it will stay that way. I long for news from you.

Please give everybody my best greetings, and I will write to Hilda and Bertha soon. How is Tillie’s brother? Is Everl’s friend already spoken for or perhaps married already? Please answer these questions too. I’d like to get the address of Al and Maxine.

I kiss and greet you most sincerely and I ask you not to be mad that we ask so much of you and we’re causing you so much of an inconvenience. At the same time, I can’t even say that I’d rather be doing all this for you, and dealing with the trouble. I don’t know if I’d want to take that on. I am happy that it’s the other way around. A few more kisses! 

Helen

P.S. Harry’s address!

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Helene and Vitali’s plans for traveling on July 15 to the U.S. did not materialize and theyare trying their best to find a way out of Europe. As has been true since German occupation, nothing is easy or straightforward. The rules and goalposts keep changing just as Helene says – day by day and hour by hour. They had pinned all their hopes on being reunited with their children in San Francisco. By this point, they are ready to go anywhere and have set their sight on Cuba. I found a movie trailer about what happened to some of the Jews who successfully made it to Cuba.

Vitali continues to emerge as an unusual man – in addition to his interest in metaphysical matters, according to Helene he was also an expert on tobacco products, or at least cigars. We learn that Robert’s smoking habit from 1918 (see October 3 post) continued at least another 20+ years.

Apparently Harry and Eva never received the March 21 letter requesting books on mandrake root – it is not in my archive. Both books from the 1930s are extremely rare. There is little information readily available about F.J. Hayter, who was an anthropologist and wrote primarily about Australia.