A day to remember fondly

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

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.

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?”

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.

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.

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 29, 2022

1940-1951

Although we learn and change and grow over time, it is amazing to me how much we are already fully formed as children. Hilda’s love of animals is evident on every page of her diary. She showed a sensitivity – to music, to her own emotions. She was absolutely honest and could not dissemble.

As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, Hilda and Nathan made a home for her young cousin Harry when he and his sister Eva arrived from Vienna in October 1939. Their first cousin Paul Zerzawy had arrived in the U.S. a few months earlier, unsuccessfully tried to find work in New York, and headed to San Francisco to be with his young cousins and have the support of the Firestones and other cousins. Hilda and Nathan would have enjoyed Paul’s company as he was a talented musician. Although trained as a lawyer, because of his English skills and lack of license, the only work he was able to find in the U.S. was as a musician and piano teacher.

Paul Zerzawy at left with Hilda and Nathan Firestone next to him. Date unknown. It is possible that one of the man next to Nathan is Yehudi Menuhin.

In 1940, San Francisco must have felt a million miles away from the war in Europe, although the Viennese cousins were a reminder. The Golden Gate International Exposition was an exciting event that took place in 1939 and 1940. My mother Eva had fond memories of attending as often as she was able. Hilda and Nathan enjoyed visiting the fair, as evidenced by these handwriting analyses they had done:

Handwriting analysis for Hilda Firestone (see initials on bottom right)

Handwriting analysis for Nathan Firestone (see initials on bottom right)

It is interesting to see what their handwriting said about them! The check marks indicate that traits were particularly strong. Hilda’s handwriting showed that she expressed emotions and feelings, could be moody, was determined, had high ideals, could be sarcastic, impatient, and stubborn, could hold a grudge, was inclined to worry too much, and had a good memory. It seems pretty on target from Hilda’s diary as well as from the letters we have from her later life!

Nathan’s handwriting showed many of the same traits. If the system has any merit, I wonder whether that shows how well-suited they were or whether they became more alike over time.

San Francisco Examiner September 21, 1941, p41

Music continued to be the center of their universe. Here is a a profile of Nathan as a musician.

San Francisco Chronicle, December 29, 1941, p. 11

 And here is a portrait of Hilda and Nathan with their dog Mouffle, showing how true it was that “Dogs — particularly cocker spaniels — are an affectionate avocational interest of Firestone and his pianist wife.”

Hilda’s happiness ended abruptly with Nathan’s death in September 1943. Unsurprisingly, her life was never the same and it took her many years to be able to find joy again.

Here is a copy of Nathan’s eulogy given by conductor and music professor Albert Elkus:

Nathan’s obituary appeared in the San Francisco Chronicle on September 23, 1943. He sounds like a wonderful man. I wish I had known him.

San Francisco Chronicle, September 23, 1943, p10

Hilda was devastated by her loss. She wrote a heartbreaking letter to my grandmother who was in 1946 waiting to come to the U.S. after having been interned at Ravensbrück. As we could see in the letter Hilda wrote, one source of support in her life was her cousin (and my grandmother’s newphew) Paul Zerzawy. They remained close and their shared love of music undoubtedly gave her comfort. She mentions that he had been ill. He died in July 1948, appointing her executor and leaving most of the few worldly goods he had to her. His death notice lists Hilda as his survivor.

San Francisco Examiner, July 26, 1948p11

Apparently Hilda remained active in the music community. In February 1951, she was one of the sponsors for sonata recitals given at the San Francisco Museum of Art by pianist Lev Shorr and his wife.

After her father Sol Goldberg retired from his job in New York City, he moved to San Francisco. After Nathan’s death, Hilda lived with him and they appear together on the 1950 census when he was 78 and she was 46. They also had a live-in maid. He died on September 28, 1951.

San Francisco Chronicle, September 30, 1951, p20

His gravestone is next to his wife in the Levy family plot.

 By 1951, all of the important men in her life had died. What to do next?

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 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.”

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 29

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Today we see an early letter from Helene in Vienna to her son Harry in San Francisco. Harry will be 16 on his next birthday in January.

Vienna, 29 December 1939

My dearest Harry Boy!

Jo must be even more of an optimist than I am because she added birthday wishes for you to the community letter, assuming that the letter will actually reach you in time. I am a little skeptical on this point, because I haven’t heard from any source that you had received even one of those sent to you. Even if that were the case, I hope you have a cheerful and happy birthday – the first one you spend as a foreigner. Foreigner? No, you’re not a foreigner! Incredibly kind people look after you and since Eva and Paul, who are always there for birthday parties, will certainly spend part of the day with you, you won’t have time to be sentimental. And you shouldn't be. Believe me, we are there in spirit. I am very worried about you, which you will understand and therefore I am glad there is someone there with you. Harry, my sweet boy, be happy and don’t worry about us – it really isn’t necessary. It would be a shame to waste your time that way. Little Eva spent her birthday away from home last year, but at that time there was the likelihood we would meet soon afterwards, which is not so much the case this time. When we do see each other, the joy will be just that much greater. When I’ve gotten the first of your letters and have a picture of what you’re doing and how you’re living, it’ll be so much easier.

The winter is starting to be like the winter of 1928-29, but it cannot harm us, because: “And no matter how much the wind growls, the grim gestures, etc.” Yes, it must be spring soon! The days already are beginning to get longer even though we don't even notice it. But it doesn't change the world order which it has been for thousands of years. The fact that I look forward to spring is like my childhood and I am starting to act childish. No, it is not childish to be happy that you won’t have to walk around with red ears and blue noses. Other memories of winter joys are currently only in memory and in the future, and I prefer the eternal spring.

My Christmas wishes were not fulfilled. I didn't get any letters from you and I must content myself that they are on their way. I am getting philosophical here. 

What do you think about the terrible earthquake in Anatolia? I am quite worried about the consequences of this catastrophe, because Casablanca and Los Angeles are on the same meridian. I would be happy if this catastrophic year were over – thank God it is coming to an end.

My dear boy, please tell all our dear relatives that I think about them with gratitude. Gratitude! A poor word to describe what I’m feeling today, but that's what I’ve got. 

I wrote to Tillie, Bertha, Hilda and Nathan as well as I could in English. Whether they received my letters is another matter. They wouldn’t have lost much if they didn’t get them.

So don’t worry, I’m not going to make any helpful suggestions. My far-flung children can certainly figure out that I wish them to have happiness not only on their birthday but in their whole life because happiness is an elixir for life. Let’s get rid of all sad thoughts.

I kiss you so much that I can barely breathe and I am happy.

Your Mutti
Helene & Vitali-baba

Helene is sad to be separated for the first time from her son on his birthday. Eva and Harry were in Istanbul for for her 18th birthday in May 1939, so that they could get passports to come to San Francisco. In that case, Helene knew they would see each other soon. By December 1939, Helene had no idea what the future held.

We learn about the physical world of late 1939. According to a website discussing the weather in 2021, the winter of 1928-1929 was one of the coldest winters in Europe in the last century. As Helene reported, the winter of 1939-1940 was also bitterly cold. According to Wikipedia, the earthquake Helene mentions was the worst to hit Turkey since 1688.  

Despite her sadness at being separated from her children, Helene tries to include a note of hope, misquoting lines from a poem of that name. Here is the Google Translate version of the original poem by Emmanuel Geibel:

Hope

“And no matter how much winter is looming
With defiant gestures
And if he scatters ice and snow about
It must be spring then.

And no matter how dense the mists are
Before the gaze of the sun
It wakes you with its light
Once the world to bliss.

Just blow you storms, blow with power
I shouldn't worry about it
On quiet feet overnight
The spring is coming.

Then the earth wakes up green
Don't know how you happened
And laughs up at the sunny sky
And would like to pass with pleasure.

She weaves blooming wreaths in her hair
And adorns himself with roses and ears of wheat,
And lets the little fountains trickle clear
As if they were feeding joy.

So be quiet! And how it may freeze
O heart, be satisfied;
It is a great May day
Given to the whole world.

And if you often fear and dread,
As if hell were on earth,
Trust in God without hesitation!
It must be spring then.”

For perhaps the only time, Vitali signs his name to a letter, as well as the word “baba” - “Father” in Turkish.

December 27

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Today we have a letter from Helene in Vienna to her daughter Eva in San Francisco. Helene has been apart from her children for more than a year.

Clipper #65

Vienna, 27 December 1940

My golden Eva child!

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?” I often ask myself that when I come home in the evening exhausted, partly because I’m so tired and partly because my brain is not getting enough healthy food, and I cannot fall asleep. So I lay awake in bed and I think about you and I am very happy that my thoughts are not rousing you out of your sleep. If our bedtime were the same, I would have to, as a loving mother, just imagine it. Sometimes (?) I’m just so afraid and I am shocked at the innate powers in us which allow us to survive this separation. We received letter #11 from November 13 on December 8 and that was the last letter from you, #9 still has not arrived.

Now I want to tell you why my days are so full. When you have two unfamiliar households in one apartment with different habits, well there’s quite an incredible need to get along and compromise and it requires a lot of tact just so everything will seem to run smoothly. I am usually the responsible party, although I really can’t complain about my tenants – they do what they can, but really, that’s all they do. When we are making breakfast, I do everything so we don’t collide. It’s not really necessary to put two tea mugs out when one person needs warm water to do the washing, they say: sorry, you can’t do it now - we don’t have an extra burner. So we have to divide up our work and our habits in the same way because we can’t do everything at the same time and so it takes longer than it normally would for that amount of work. Another thing is that the taxes are now harder to figure out than they were before because now there’s a whole different way that that is done. Just like a sick person causes more work than a healthy one, a dying business provides you with more to do than a perfectly healthy one. Besides that, I have quite an extensive correspondence, which in many cases gets no answer. If those who receive my answers would go to the trouble of considering that I am giving them everything I possibly can, in other words the little bit of free time and the last bit of energy I have, I’m sure my letters would be answered more conscientiously.

However, I haven’t changed much and I still think 2 times 2 is 5, and my sense of humor is irrepressible, only that I use it as they say in the “Mikado”:

 “I call my humor forth
in every case because the material that the court
gives me
is so cheerful and popular.
Even if such an idiot
would lose his head.” etc. etc [it rhymes in German]

Because of all the work that the post office has with the Christmas holidays and the coming new year, I can hardly expect to get mail in the next 14 days and I will have to strive to get through this time as best I can. I am imagining what a wonderful feeling it will be when I open the door to the mail carrier and he actually hands me a letter from you.

Harry-boy is not going to get his due because I don’t have time to write to him today. Please give him greetings and birthday wishes and kisses from me, because maybe the birthday letter won’t get there.

At the moment it is necessary again to pay close attention to the numbering of the letters and to tell me which letters of mine did not arrive (at least since last time). 

That’s all for today because I need to go to the dentist, because my most important Christmas surprise was a filling that fell out.

Live well my good, brave Eva-girl and do write in detail so that I can be recompensed for the letters that got lost. Please give all the dear ones my greetings and a big hug from

Helen

P.S. Don’t forget to say hello to Miss Maxine from me.

Although Helene mentions that she greeted Eva in her birthday letter to Hilda, in fact it was a postscript to the letter she wrote on the same day to Harry, which we saw in the December 20th post. I think she saved copies of all her letters, but since the P.S. was a handwritten afterthought, she probably forgot which of the letters she added it to.

Helene’s unquenchable thirst for news from her children rings out loud and clear, as it does in so many of her letters. I don’t know when Eva and Harry began numbering their letters – if they did so religiously, it means their mother has written six letters for each one they sent.

We hear a little about the hardships in Vienna, about which we learned in more detail in other letters: their failing business, living with housemates, unreliable mail – and to top it off – dental  problems whose cost they could hardly bear.

My husband grew up on Gilbert and Sullivan, and I showed him Helene’s lines in German from The Mikado. He’s pretty sure that she made up her own lyrics to the song “A More Humane Mikado (My Object All Sublime).” The cadence of her lyrics work with the chorus:

My object all sublime
I shall achieve in time —
To let the punishment fit the crime —
The punishment fit the crime;
And make each prisoner pent
Unwillingly represent
A source of innocent merriment!
Of innocent merriment!

One thing that struck me in this letter was Helene’s comment that for her 2x2=5. When I was in high school, the philosophy behind and rules for teaching math changed, with the advent of “New Math.” As we have seen this year, my grandmother loved language. She passed on her love of wordplay to her children, who in turn passed it on to their children. My mother loved writing poems in honor of special occasions and her poems for retiring colleagues were the hit of the San Francisco Public Health Department. I am in awe of my mother’s fluency – I cannot imagine writing poetry and satire in a second language, certainly not with much success. When I was introduced to and frustrated by New Math, I was inspired to write a poem myself. It began:

“New Math is fun,
New Math is great,
When 1 and 1
And 4 make 8….”

I don’t recall anything about New Math, but I remember the first lines of my poem!

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 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 21

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Today we have an early letter from Helene in Vienna to her children in San Francisco – 18-year old Eva and 15-year old Harry.

Clipper letter No. 8, 21st December 1939

I-A-Eva!
Hi-Ha-Harry!

Two months ago today — it’s been exactly 9 weeks since you arrived in Frisco and I can only imagine your impressions of the new world, because no news from you has reached us. For heaven’s sake, not all the ships that might have brought your letters can have sunk. Have you written us by air letter? I don’t understand why other people are getting post. I hope you will get the letter from Olga pretty soon and that you will answer please.

Nothing has happened to us, and my head is doing its best to entertain you, but it’s not working today. You probably don't care very much about letters – you have new experiences every day simply because the way of life there is quite different from ours – quite apart from the current situation. I hope one day to find all about all these differences and how you feel about them when the post is working better. For now, this waste of time waiting around is bothering me, and as much as I’d like to do it, I can’t write to all my loved ones because I would have to use a dictionary for every word, so unfamiliar to me is any kind of intellectual activity right now. Please, excuses to all. A letter from you would really awaken my lust for living and give me the ability to express my feelings and thoughts again

Today I’ll leave you with this letter, which was only intended as a sign of life, and my current reluctance to write will soon turn into the opposite again.

With countless greetings and kisses to you and all the loved ones, I am your mother.

Helene

Helene begins this letter to her children by playing with the vowel sounds of the first syllables of their names. In yesterday’s post, we saw a letter she wrote to Hilda — written a year later than this one — where she parodied a popular children’s Christmas song. I wonder whether she was humming it as she wrote today’s letter? And perhaps subtly invoking the tune in her children’s minds as she began the letter.

Although we can’t read the first impressions they sent their parents, we have the letter Eva wrote to their cousin Paul Zerzawy who met their ship in New York in October and put them safely on the train to San Francisco.

December 20

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In yesterday’s post, we saw a gift that Helene’s cousin Hilda gave to Harry in 1944. Today, in addition to a birthday letter from Helene to her son Harry, we have her birthday “gift” to Hilda sent 24 years earlier. 

Clipper #64

Vienna, 20, December 1940

My most beloved little Harry boy!

Your birthday coming up is the second which you have no longer been able to celebrate with us and because of that, you haven’t had to put up with me breaking into hugs and kisses and such. But you’re not protected from the fact that you’re going to get a tirade of words sent to you. I have developed a special practice for the 13th of January. On this day and considering also the 10 hour time difference, I am not going to speak to anybody outside the family except the mailman. My thoughts will be like projectiles being sent to you, and even if you don’t get all of them I bet some of them will reach you. What do time and place mean to people who are used to living in the 4th dimension? The first birthday wish will be from me and will go to school with you, unless this day is perhaps an American national holiday and therefore you don’t have school. I will be there at the table at your birthday party and I will be happy with you that you exist in this world. You have every reason to be happy. The whole world is open to you. For the time being it’s actually quite nice to live in this world, especially when you are 17 years old. The downward spiral doesn’t start until a whole lot later. It would be precocious of me to speak about that because I personally still feel quite far away from it and Papa thinks much the same way as I do, or I think like he does, which is the same thing. Days like the 13th of January or the 5th of May [Eva’s birthday] are milestones which are worth hanging around and enjoying for a while. If you look back in the past on these days, the future looks quite rosy and you think maybe that you will get over the lost present time.

This winter is quite strict and is teaching us that black diamonds are as useful to the human being as white diamonds. A month ago, we thought there would be an end to the winter, just like the summer. Unfortunately, winter has a better memory or it’s more attuned to its duties. Be that as it may, it’s there and I find it pretty unpleasant myself. I find runny noses, even when they’re frozen, quite unaesthetic and men whose beards have turned into stalactites are very unpleasant to me, even more so than the mountain sprites of my childhood. In the winter months in your absence, I turn into a harem housewife. Papa brings me everything as much as he can get and brings it home to me. The wish to go for a walk at this time of year has never been that strong to me and I really don’t have other interests which might justify going outside. The best place for me to think about you without being disturbed is home and I can spend hours and hours at that, many more than you would ever think. When Papa goes out about 3pm and gets home about 6 I greet him with “oh, there you are again” because usually either I am sitting at the typewriter and writing to you or I’m reading your letters again in order to know what you did last year at about this time. Time goes by so fast when I do this that the day is over in the twinkling of an eye but then it’s always a long time for me to be waiting for the mail to show up.

The type of attention I like to pay to various people I try to take care of before the holidays are over so that I have the sense of holidays but not so much of Christmas. I will let the Lord God give me credit for those I did not get to celebrate and I will celebrate someday all the birthdays and holidays that I did not get to celebrate with you as long as heaven allows this to happen for me. Those will be months and months of delight, the likes of which you’ve never seen.

For today my dear Ha-He-Hi-Ho Hu-Harry kisses and I wish you so much joy, as much as your sweet little feet can even carry. Think on your birthday about us and keep us in your thoughts and love.

I am hugging you.
Helen

I’m going to write to Everl separately on Tuesday and I send her a thousand kisses.

Vienna, 20. Dec. 1940

[In English:]

Dear Hilda!

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.

[In German - sayings to help the German learner learn certain sounds:]

A a a
Winter is here.
I can’t hear or see.
Winter has begun.
A a a

Winter is here.

E e e
I drink hot tea.
I drink it morning, noon, and night.
But I don’t have any sugar.
E e e
I drink hot tea.

I i i
What kind of a beast am I!
Coughing, flu, and influenza,
I cannot throw them out the window. [rhyming Influenza/Fensta]
I i i
What kind of a beast am I!

O o o
How raw is Vitali [‘s throat]!
He’s taking quinine and aspirin,
but otherwise you will go.
O o o
How raw is Vitali!

U u u
I am wearing lined shoes.
Having a slim ankle, what does that matter today?
It’s only an obsession for plutocratic people.
U u u
I wear such big shoes.

Au au au [Ow, ow, ow]
I can hardly see out of my eyes.
Vitali is coughing and is hoarse,
but I just can’t continue
Au au au
I can hardly see out of my eyes.

Ei ei ei
That too will be over soon.
Who will save this brain from bacteria?
You think to yourself, for God’s sake.
Ei ei ei
That too will be over soon.  

Eu eu eu
Oh, how happy I am about winter!
Beards become stalactites.
With Aryans, as well as with Semites.
Eu eu eu.
I am so happy about the winter! 

This is for you for your birthday and I know it’s rather cynical. But still, my wishes are sincere and I mean them well.

[In English:]

Excuse me.

I suppose that my letter comes with lateness and your birthday party will not be disturbed by the crazy letter of a crazy cousin. Don’t be angry and it’s better you are learning German by Paul.

Wishing you all, what Heaven has to give on joy and happiness, I remain heartiest as ever

Your affectionate
Helen

Helene’s letters include variations on the same theme. In both, Helene makes us appreciate what a cold and miserable winter it is – to Harry she is direct and to Hilda she puts it into her own lyrics to a traditional children’s song. She plays with vowel sounds with the children’s song to Hilda, and by playing with Harry’s name at the end of the letter.

She added a few verses including less pleasant sounds of her own.

I found a website with the original lyrics of this Christmas song. It begins:

A, a, a, der Winter der ist da.
Herbst und Sommer sind vergangen,
Winter, der hat angefangen,
A, a, a, der Winter der ist da….

The translation of the entire song using Google translate:

A, a, a, the winter is here.
Autumn and summer have passed
Winter has started
A, a, a, the winter is here.

E, e, e, now there is ice and snow.
Flowers bloom on window panes
Are nowhere else to be found
E, e, e, now there is ice and snow.

I, i, i, never forget the poor man.
Often has nothing to cover up
If now frost and cold frighten him.
 I, i, i, never forget the poor man.

O, o, o, how happy we children are.
When we are joking and laughing
Make a great snowman
O, o, o, how happy we children are.  

U, u, u, I already know what I'm doing.
My dear parents love
Do not offend you, do not grieve you,
U, u, u, I already know what I'm doing.

O, o, o, how happy we children are.
When the Christ Child does something,
And 'from heaven high' they sing.
O, o, o, how happy we children are.

U, u, u, I already know what I'm doing.
Love Christ Child, praise Christ Child,
With the many angels above.
U, u, u, I already know what I'm doing.

A, a, a, autumn is here again.
The sweet grapes are now yellow,
The green arbors are now brown,
A, a, a, autumn is here again.

The song was written by Hoffmann von Fallersleben (1798-1874) and would have been a fun way for young children to practice vowel sounds. It was written before Helene was born in 1886 -- both she and her own children would have learned it.

December 19

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Today’s post is something different — a gift from Helene’s cousin Hilda to Harry.

For much of December, we’ve seen letters and cards acknowledging the holiday season. Like many Jews in Europe, Helene and her family were secular Jews, celebrating a nonreligious version of Christmas that included gift giving, family gatherings, food, and festivity. As I mentioned in the post on Harry’s birthday, our family has our own version of such celebrations today with our “Family Unification Rituals” - “Furry” Events, a term coined by Harry’s wife.

The gift of this biography of Mahler is a perfect snapshot of a family that loved classical music and being together. Hilda’s inscription says:

San Francisco, Calif
Dec. 19, 1944

No merry Christmas!
No happy New Year!
No happy Birthday!
No anything!

Hilda

Hilda and Harry’s birthdays were a day apart (some of Hilda’s vital records show them having the same birthdate). In her inscription, Hilda acknowledges that they don’t officially celebrate anything – holidays, birthdays, etc. And yet they did! In the December 16th post, at the time Hilda was sending this book, Harry was asking Eva to send her a birthday bouquet on his behalf. 

As with many things that my family kept, this book has more meaning than it might seem at first glance. The San Francisco Chronicle has many articles and advertisements about Bruno Walter being a guest conductor with the San Francisco Symphony. Hilda was married to Nathan Firestone, who was a violist in the San Francisco Symphony. I would guess that Hilda, and perhaps Harry, had met Walter. They certainly would have seen him conduct. Although I could not find a video of him in action, I found a video of Mahler’s 5th Symphony conducted by Walter which shows photos of him and of Mahler. According to Wikipedia, like Eva and Harry, he came to the United States in late 1939 to escape Nazi persecution. In the 1930s, he regularly conducted the Vienna Philharmonic and Vienna State Opera, so they would have seen him before coming to the U.S.  

December 16

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Today we see two letters written on the same day from G.I. Harry Lowell in New Guinea to his sister Eva in San Francisco – one “business,” and the other personal.

New Guinea
December 16, 1944

Dear Eva,

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.

Enclosed you’ll find a money order and the cards.

If ten dollars aren’t sufficient for two pretty bouquets, please lay out whatever the difference is and I’ll reimburse you by next mail.

Thank you!

Love,
Harry.

P.S. Please advise me of Bertha’s birthday in your next letter. I think it is in September.

New Guinea
December 16, 1944

Dear Eva,

Today is one of those days on which I get the urge to write a lot of letters. If anything exciting were happening here I would be able to write more letters. As I live a rather colorless life, however, I can put in my letters nothing more interesting than gripes, pipe dreams, weather conditions, etc. I do hope this latest apology for my rare letters sounds plausible to you.

I received your air mail letter of November 18, and after reading it, came to the conclusion that your handwriting is getting to the point of illegibility – (not that I have any room to talk). I suggest that we found a society or club that’ll carry on the custom of cryptic correspondence. You, Hilda, and myself will be the originators of said club; shall we call the club “Knights of the Dainty Pen”? (Any suggestions for an appropriate name are welcome.)

Now that I am through insulting, I’ll turn to the news; I’ll leave a little space below in the event something interesting happens while I write this letter:

You see, my letters are bound to be uninteresting. I finally decided to enroll in the Armed Forces Institute and am taking a correspondence course at present. There are about sixty or so courses available and I plan to fill the time between now and the end of the war with going through all those courses (It’s a long war!)

The course I am working on now appealed to me at the time of course selection; I thought the subject would be very interesting and educational and furthermore the title of the course suggested the course to be more or less a snap. It’s “Waterworks and Sewage Plant Operation.” (Sounds simple, doesn’t it?) Well, the course includes: Principles of Mechanics, Hydromechanics, Pneumatics, Chemistry, Sanitary Chemistry, Sanitary Bacteriology, etc. After completion of that course I should make an expert “Latrine Orderly,” don’t you think?

I can see it now – right next to such trademark slogans as: Body by Fisher, Fixtures by Westinghouse, Design by Schiaparelli, etc., will be my trademark, outstanding in reputation: “Superior Latrines by Lowell!” (Thank you.)

One of the other reasons for my becoming so studious all of a sudden is that I want to get used to a good system of studying which will be most important to me after the war. In view of the strenuous program in my postwar plans, my system of studying must be a fast and efficient one, so that I can get enough sleep during this “Spartan existence.” In case I did not tell you, I plan to attend the Davis Agricultural University. I hope Hap Williams [?] of the Triangle Produce Co. can use a good man for night work; it would be a nice setting, indeed, because the University is about half an hour’s drive from Sacramento. I would appreciate any suggestions and comments that you have in reference to my plans. As far as dissuading me from my intentions, there is no use doing so.

As Lt. Col. Good, my commanding officer, would say: “This is the way it’s got to be, there ain’t no other way!” (unquote) (Ain’t I the one, though?)

“Knowest Thou the Land where the Coconuts grow…..? I have been here for almost a year and it’s been nine months since I ate a coconut. I bet there are a lot of people in this world who would like to have some coconuts and cannot get them. On the other hand there are very many people over here that would like to get some fresh milk and can’t get it. Probably some dairy strikers in L.A. are pouring hundreds of gallons of milk out on the streets; but most probably all surplus milk is being dehydrated – and that doesn’t do us any good, does it?

(How did this last paragraph get into this letter, anyhow?)

I am enclosing negatives of three snapshots; get enough prints made to distribute. I would appreciate your sending me two prints of each. I hope you haven’t forgotten to heed my request for 6-20 films. (Modest, that’s me!)

That’s quite a solution you have arrived at in regards to staying away from the Army Nurse Corps; rather dramatic, isn’t it? However, I am glad you are heeding my advice. (But don’t resort to that drastic measure you mentioned if you can help it, ha, ha!)

I saw the picture “Dragonseed” the other day and I thought it was very good, indeed. I also saw another pretty good picture, “Saratoga Trunk.” How was the performance of “The Merry Widow” this last time? What have you been doing in regards to diversion lately? How was the opera season?

How is Paul? Let me know what he has to say about my postwar plans.

Well, that’s all for today, sister. Give my kindest regards to all.

I remain your loving brother,
Harry

P.S. I hope you have a nice Christmas.

In this letter we see that Harry missed his calling — he should have gone into advertising! In addition to information about Fisher in the link above, there is a PBS documentary called Body by Fisher.

Soldiers seem to have had access to the latest movies. Dragon Seed came out in 1944, and according to IMDB, Saratoga Trunk came out in 1945, the year after this letter was written.

In addition to the references to popular culture, Harry throws in a take-off on a quote by Goethe from Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship: “Knowest Thou the Land where the lemon trees bloom…” which he will quote again in a letter almost a year later (see October 13th post).

Perhaps the “drastic measure” Harry refers to is that his sister will be getting married in January 1945.

In the letter we saw in the October 27th post, Harry wrote about his post-war plan to lead a “Spartan existence” as he earned a college degree. He did not mention the idea of studying agriculture at Davis or to go back to the Triangle Produce Co., where he had worked in summers and after high school graduation before joining the army. I always had the sense from Harry that he had no desire to have anything to do with his California relatives’ business. However, at this time, he and his sister were considering all possibilities of making a good living so they would be able to bring their parents to the United States after the war, and to support them once they arrived.

December 14

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Helene in Vienna writing to her children, recent arrivals in San Francisco:

Vienna, 14 December 1939

My little sweeties who aren’t assigned to a particular district!

A nag that clops along in a Clipper letter, folds the ribbon and deserves a rap on the fingers - that’s your mother. I have decided to fight on and bombard you with letters until I get an answer. I don't expect any answers at all, because I haven't asked you any questions, expecting that when I receive something, the questions will no longer apply. You know, I am interested in everything that concerns you and every one of our loved ones. I got a saltwater fish yesterday and took a good look at it to see if, like Polycrates, I could find instead of a ring, a letter from you there. But there was nothing like that. Besides the normal innards, he was mostly fish bones. We ate it anyway, but at least we had something to eat. I would be glad to tell you interesting things, but unfortunately nothing happens in my seclusion that is worth writing about. I see a lot of people who are not there, and even if one or the other might have written to us, I have not yet received any mail. Papa had to pay a fine of 220 [little marks] which we’ve taken out of our travel account. Our friends in Ankara haven’t been in a big hurry to deal with our case, but that doesn’t matter. We have found people interested in buying our piano, but it’s too big for some. The price was not the problem because we are willing to sell it for 1mark/cm – 235marks. Even our bedroom might have some takers but we want to wait till we no longer need it. If it were the summer, I’d have given it up, but winter has no mercy.

Our little neighbor Ludwig visited me yesterday with his mother. Since his mother wanted to chat with me, I gave him a couple of chess pieces to play from the set you left here. After a while he thoughtfully shook his said and said “this is a funny chess game – there’s no white horses and no board to jump around on.”

There’s plenty of room to jump around, but for some reason I don’t feel like it. Maybe I’ll do it when there’s a letter from you. Our kitchen has once again costumed itself as a fairy palace and the walls are sparkling for Christmas. I ignore the splendor because I’d rather go in to our less romantic, but warmer, living room. This is all the easier as I have thoroughly weaned our stomachs from their frivolous exotic cravings. Our stomachs are used to not getting such goodies anymore. Papa has a sour grapes philosophy – “We eat too much anyway!” Maybe he’s right, but it sure would be nice to have something.

Now its noon and I have to get dressed quickly and go into the kitchen. In the case of “Tschindern” – Paul will explain this word to you -- I might even win first place in the Olympics. Also, tell him that I’m upset that I can’t even come up with or make any “cheap” presents for anyone this year.

That's enough nonsense for today. Say hello to everybody. I’m mentally bankrupt which prevents me from writing directly to them very often.

I’m kind of crazy about writing, but I send you an untold number of kisses,

Mutti
Helene

Like so often, Helene throws in references that would have meant something to her children, little jokes and wordplay. In the second sentence of the letter, she uses 4 words that sound like “Clipper” when writing about her frustration at not receiving mail - it definitely gets lost in translation! (“Ein Klepper, der in einemfort Clipper-Briefe klappert, das Farbband einkluppt und auf die Finger geklopped verdient, das ist euere Mutter.”) A description of Clipper letters can be found at an earlier post. She likens her desire for letters to the legend of Polycrates.

She uses the word Tschindern, from the Austrian dialect, knowing that her nephew Paul was nearby to translate, bringing him in on the joke. Unfortunately, we don’t have him handy now and I was unable to find a translation.

We see the evolution of Helene’s signature when she writes to her children. In the first few letters from 1939, she signs herself Mutti, which translates to Mom or Mommy. In this letter, she adds her name, Helene. In later letters, she simply signs her name Helen – perhaps acknowledging how mature and distant her children have become, as well as her intention to become an American herself and therefore calling herself by a less European version of her first name.

December 13

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Today we have a letter from Helene in Vienna to Hilda Firestone in San Francisco. Harry has lived with Hilda and her husband Nathan since arriving in San Francisco in October 1939. Since they do not share a common language, Helene writes in her halting English, interspersing some German (indicated in italics). Helene’s nephew Paul Zerzawy was also in San Francisco and would have been able to translate the German. I admire Helene’s courage to write in a foreign language – even after years of studying French, I was always reluctant to expose my lack of fluency.

Vienna, December 13, 1940

Dear Hilda!

Generally I don’t like winter in spite of snow-romantic, winter-sport and carnival-revel, for all that, years ago, I waited for Xmas with palpitation of the heart. There were the little things with which we could give so much pleasure. Today it is quite another thing. There are no children (own) and no relatives, but only a few friends to find a little surprise for them and therefore I hate this time. Nevertheless, I hope that you will spend Christmas in funny society, gay and cheerful and wish you and Nathan a happy New Year.

Harry wrote me that you make great progress in the study of German. I am quite enthusiastic. I will not trespass on Paul, but I find it is easier to learn a foreign language with background music, for instance: 

Viennese expression: don’t push me. German: don’t spill tea on me. Fluency, I beg your pardon, volubility you can reach by reading of the following sentences: [tongue twisters] “We Viennese washerwomen would wash the soft white wash if we knew where warm soft water was.” Or: “Fritz Fischer fishes for fresh fish early in the morning when it’s fresh” [a famous tongue twister, embellishing the original]: “ The cow ran until she fell.” is an easy one, much shorter. Also, [a pun on eel & lox]. And “Potsdam & Cottbus postal carriage is polished with postal carriage wax.” [riffing on another famous tongue twister] Your teacher will have already taught you this.

Now I’m done, but I’m afraid of Paul because he may forbid you to correspond with me in the interest of your making progress in learning German. Excuse me when I wrote such gibberish. It smells bad and I am afraid it is our dinner. 

Yes, it was. Poor Vitali!

With my best regards to Nathan and you I remain fondly

Helen

P.S. Just now Vitali came home. He caught a cold. Therefore he has no idea that our dinner is black-colored. He sends his best greetings.

After delving into my family letters this year, I have gained a deep appreciation and affection for these relatives who were shadowy names to me all my life. I so wish I had known the Zerzawy brothers. Hilda too. Although they would not meet until 1946, Helene was grateful to that her beloved son Harry was safe in the care of her cousin Hilda (technically her first cousin once removed – the daughter of her first cousin). Even living oceans apart, Helene always tried to stay connected to her family, most of whom she never would meet. We saw a letter in the February 23rd post where Hilda recalls a fond childhood memory of receiving a book of German folk songs from Helene, which would probably have been sent around 1910.  

Even in her broken English, Helene gives us a vivid picture of her anticipation of the holiday season when the family was all together. Despite the separation and her lack of resources, she tries to mark the season with her friends.

The original tongue twisters Helene uses can be found at this link and can be heard spoken by a native German speaker here.

December 9

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Today’s letter to Helene’s son Harry is the companion to Clipper letter #62 that Helene wrote to his sister the day before.

Vienna, 9 December 1940

My dear Harry-boy!

So, you’re playing a “prankster in America”. I wouldn’t even think of saying anything reproachful to you about that, because I behaved like a rascal on the street myself this week. In order not to forget how to walk, I decided to go shopping last Friday.

When I left the apartment, the weather looked really great, although doors and windows were rattling quite a bit. Papa gave me the food ration card and some good advice - not to wear a hat. My first path led to Knoll. A woman was pushing the other ladies who were shopping there around from one spot to another because she had lost her meat card and she kept assuring everyone that it just had to be here because she had it in her hand the whole way there. The butcher said “well, maybe the wind took the card out of your hand” and she said “what would the wind want with my meat card?” Although the other various housewives certainly showed a lot of understanding for this problem of having lost her card, nobody could really keep from laughing after she said that. After I finished shopping, I went in the direction of “Nordsee” to the Löwengasse. And around the corner was the Kegelgasse and there was quite a wind and next thing I knew I was in the Bechardgasse. Branches and dried out leaves and scraps of paper and hats and caps were filling the air. And as if it were pecking at me, a not very appetizing piece of paper covered my face and I had trouble getting it off of my face with my hand, because the other hand had to hang on for dear life to my shopping bag which was trying to act like a hot air balloon, taking me with it. I worked my way up to Kolonitzplatz and it was if the advertising posters and the store signs were giving an atonal concert. A musician would have been able to hear it and imagine a modern rhapsody, but I think if he had passed this off as his own composition, he would have been booed. Because my God, the “Pastorale” certainly sounded a lot sweeter. On Kolonitzplatz when I finally got there, I thought I was at a Mardi Gras ballroom - a nice Vienna wind enjoys playing a joke on you. Rather stout and serious looking gentlemen grabbed as if on command with both hands to keep their hats on and turned around in 3/4 time and took quite a few steps without making any progress. An invisible hairdresser made a Medusa head out of my hair and the storm was quite gallant to us ladies. It would pick us up from the ground and carry us along a few meters and then put us down on the other side of the street. After I had bought some pickles, I let myself be moved. Who was that drumming along there? A head of cabbage was rumbling towards me. Maybe that’s why I was on the Kolingasse [pun on street name and rumbling cabbage]. And then it sort of brought me a black wax shopping bag which was following as if it were its duty the head of cabbage that I had found. I had far too much to do to deal with keeping my pickles under control, but then a colossal stomach almost ran me over. The stomach belonged to a bag and the cabbage and what the dear maid yelled at me could have been a set of legs. The pickles may go up in the hot air balloon again as I am thrown up in the air. But anyway, what the dear maiden said to me is the kind of thing that no decent person would write down in their family album (hence the name Stammgasse) [Stammbuch = family album/tree]. In the Kegelgasse where I ended up again, the cabbage had seemed to have hit and knocked over all nine trees (hence the name Kegelgasse) [Kegel = bowling ball]. I took advantage of a moment when the wind died down and I set off at a trot. I almost knocked over a guy who was there with a beer mug (hence the name Seidlgasse) [Seidl = beer mug].

I got home shortly before Papa did, who told me about his experiences on the Stubenring. The wind had taken delight in pushing over several benches which were reserved for Aryans to sit on. On the corner of Viaduktgasse, there was a wind bride who wished to dance with Papa, but he managed to get away from her impertinence. On the corner of Gärtnergasse, he would have been able to get some wind pants [Pun with whirlwind] without even having to pay points for them. Just like me, he was very glad to be home and we took pleasure in drinking tea about a quarter hour later. The wind, wind, wind of Vienna did all of that today.

That’s enough for today. Maybe I’ll write more tomorrow.

Helen

One of the wonderful things about Helene’s letters is how chatty she can be – she invites her children along with her on errands through the streets they’d walked on together many times before. They (and we) can feel the wind whipping as Helene treks through the neighborhood. Despite the daily privations and frustrations, she keeps the tone light. She throws in wordplay and puns, and likens her (and Harry’s) misadventures to a character in a book they would both have known. At first I didn’t understand her reference to Beethoven’s Symphony No. 6 — the Pastoral — because I thought of the calm, lyrical movements. But she is referring to the 4th movement, which evokes a violent storm, including high winds.

Below is a map showing the route Helene took. Since I did not have street addresses for the shops she went to, the arrows probably show her going further afield than she actually went. The starting and ending point of their home on Seidlgasse is circled in purple.

December 8

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Today’s letter from Helene was written a year later than the ones we’ve seen in the most recent posts – as Helene and Vitali experience their second year apart from their children. Today she writes to Eva, tomorrow she will write to Harry.

Vienna, 8 December 1940

My golden Eva-child!

At this time of the year, it’s a hard decision for Papa to crawl out from under the feathers, especially on a Sunday. My attempt to make this happen: “breakfast is on the table!” But that doesn’t always work either. Only the call of the Valkyries “Hojotoho, the mail is here” - has the desired effect with him. Since I recently in a most vile manner, took advantage of his gullibility as far as it goes, yesterday even though he heard the mail delivery woman’s doorbell ring, he wouldn’t get up out of bed. But he believed that a less interesting piece of mail had arrived, because I replied to his: “bring the mail in” with “no” but only because of the rhyme [herein/in; nein/no], in order to compete with Harry. When I started laughing at letter #10, he realized there must be mail from you and he jumped right out of bed. A second jump was to breakfast, which we then had together with Homeric laughter. I don’t know, Everl, if you have done the right thing in having Harry not read your letters anymore. If I still remember my little son well, he will only with great difficulty be able to give up on the little tidbits that are in there. I thank you especially for the wishes for my birthday and one has to be glad that not all wishes are fulfilled: “you shall get fat, you shall get fat, three times as fat” [a takeoff on the traditional birthday song]. It’s horrible what you wished me there. I certainly agree with the third line of the song: “you should come here, you should come here, very very soon” [another takeoff]. This I wished myself for my birthday this year, and since this wish appears to be more necessary than to increase my girth three times – which the Lord himself would certainly see – I hope that this wish would especially be fulfilled by Him. It is noble the way I am now. I wanted to give some of the birthday kisses to Papa, but he didn’t take them. He wants to pick them up himself, and he says he wants to do that as soon as possible. I have nothing against that.

In order to shorten my wait for the mail, I had decided this week to scrub the floor and wash it. Papa saw a storm cloud on my forehead and he left the house early. I prepared the floor as if it were the only reason for the mail being late, and moaning and groaning it put up with my abuse. In this way, I let it out my displeasure and it was easier to do the work rhythmically. I remembered a refrain from the Lipinskaya repertoire: “I didn’t know I was so strong” When I was about at the last third of the work, my anger and my strength were about done, I made do with the battle cry: “strong muscles, fabulous”. Upon finishing at about 5 in the afternoon (I started at 8 in the morning), in my childish disposition, I hoped to be rewarded for it with the afternoon mail which of course didn’t show up. What should I do? Should I scrub the floor again? That would be stupid. Papa said he wouldn’t be surprised if I acted like a witch: if in the morning, noon and night, he arrived and found me riding my broomstick, which I could not really deny; my uniform was quite sporty, like something you’d wear in Blocksberg. [currently known as Brocken]

Yesterday we visited the girls, although we had actually intended to stay home. But they were so insistent about it that we didn’t stick with our original plan. They met two married couples this week. One couple, whom they know by sight, live in Laimgrubengasse. They could have probably handled that. But with the other one, maybe not. The dear Hansi Niese, who must be clairvoyant, sang:

Yes on the Lahmgruab'n and on the Wieden,
Dulidulijöhö, dulidulijöhö
yes, the taste is very different,
Dulidulijöhö, dulidulijöhö

I did my best to give them a lesson in a sense of community, but some people just don’t get the point of that.

Now I come back to your letter. You wrote that Harry had made the point several times that you were looking very nice these days. Why don’t you see at the post office if you might be able to send a picture? Paul could probably take one of you.

Many kisses,
Helen 

Having finally received mail from her beloved children, Helene is in a lighthearted mood. She makes puns and (mis)quotes songs. When relating a story about visiting friends, she includes a verse from a bawdy song.

I don’t think I have a photo of Eva taken at this time. Below is Eva’s yearbook photo which probably would have been taken in the spring of 1940. She looks far more serious and her hair and dress are far more conservative than most of her classmates — perhaps she has begun looking more “American” by the time of this letter.

December 7

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Today’s letter is from G.I. Harry Lowell at the California Desert Training Center to his sister Eva in San Francisco.

December 7, 1943

Beloved Sister,

It is with great pleasure that I received both your letters.

Well, first of all I want you to know how glad I am that you have found a good and well-paid job. Now that you are the capitalist of the Lowell family, you’ll be able to do a little saving on the side – I guess I don’t have to tell you that. As to my promotion in the army right now, chances are very slim, indeed. The only way that I can get a rank or rating is by somebody’s elimination [?] or transfer. I am doing some brushing up in Spanish, math, physics, and I may start some other language. Then I’ll take over my I.Q. test and try to get 140; if I can make that high an I.Q., I’ll be general before my next birthday.

So you finally moved, eh? Is the new place nicer than the old one? As to your bedroom suite I could get you some mahogany-ultra-modern-hazelnut-finished army cots if you need them very bad.

We had some rain lately, and the mountains that surround the camp have a thin – very thin – cover of snow; they look pretty.

How is Hilda getting along? Let me know how her state of mind is, so that I can write my letters to her accordingly. The last two letters to her have been on the cheerful side.

What are you and Ursula doing in your spare time? Have you been boating or horseback riding yet?

How is your beau Walter? Hahaha!

Have you seen any good pictures lately? I haven’t.

I suppose S.F. looks like a big ant hill, with all the people hustling to get their Christmas shopping done. San Bernardino is a sucker’s paradise, therefore I won’t buy you anything this year – unless I can get to L.A. As for a present to me, use your head and judgement, I don’t need any clothes or books. (Use algebra to find x=present; you know, the system of cancellation of factors.)

Well, that’s all for today. My best regards to everyone.

Your baby-brother,
Harry

P.S. That Turkish actor’s name is Turhan Bey.
P.P.S. Note my new address:
3352nd QM Truck Company
APO 181, Postmaster,
Los Angeles
P.P.S.S. The joke was pretty good.
P.P.P.S.S. What’s the name of that fancy restaurant you talked about in your letter?
P.P.P.S.S.S. Even if I didn’t remember the poems, at least my grammar was correct. (Did I have a hard time, too!)

Despite his light tone, Harry touches on a more serious issue when he suggests that his sister save part of her paycheck – an unspoken reminder of their parents’ plight and their hope to bring them to the U.S. after the war.

According to Wikipedia, Turhan Bey “was an Austrian-born actor of Turkish and Czech-Jewish origins.” Just like Harry and Eva! He “was dubbed ‘The Turkish Delight’ by his fans and acted in dozens of Hollywood movies.

The last P.S. refers to the letter he wrote in German a few weeks earlier, which we saw in the November 8th post.

I don’t know whether Eva and Ursula — a friend from nursing school — ever went horseback riding together. The photo below was taken a few years later (cigarette in hand) – my mother’s recollection was that it was taken in 1947.