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Although I have been working with these papers for over three years, I am only now understanding what a rich and full story they tell. My mother Eva had a handful of letters which I had seen over the years – mostly the ones Helene had sent from Istanbul in 1946. Harry had kept the majority of the papers in a variety of places and boxes in his house (and in every house he’d lived in since at least 1948!). Little of it was organized. Harry had a separate box of Paul Zerzawy’s papers, which included his letters from and to Helene and other relatives. Harry also had the envelope of Helene’s letters from Vienna from the time Harry and Eva left Vienna until late 1941 when the U.S. entered WWII and all letters stopped. The story of discovering these letters is told in more detail earlier in the blog.

I was still discovering new items amongst Harry’s things when Kelsey began archiving everything. We realized that putting documents in order by date would delay the process. Since she was creating a digital archive, it would be easy to search by date later on.

When I began working with Roslyn to translate the letters, we didn’t begin in date order either. We began with the letters that were most legible, which was the letters that were typed. As we got into a groove, Roslyn translated the Vienna letters stuffed in the envelope first. I still hadn’t understood how key to the story Paul Zerzawy was, so I wasn’t in a hurry to translate his letters. What I discovered when Roslyn began translating Helene’s letters to Paul was that often those letters referred to things she’d mentioned in her letters to Harry and Eva, but sometimes more directly and with more information about how desperate things were in Vienna. It was also obvious by the censorship numbers or the contents of the letters themselves that some of the letters to Paul were sent in the same envelope as ones to Harry and Eva.

One document in the box of Paul’s things was this small page with the language he used to send the long-awaited, much requested telegrams to Helene and Vitali which Helene refers to in the two letters written on March 3, 1941. The first telegram — which appears to have been sent on February 28 and received on March 1 — contains good news. Unfortunately, in the telegram he sent two weeks later on March 14, Paul does not offer Vitali hope that he will be able to continue his work in metaphysics in the U.S.

Telegram II   2/28/41
Negotiations about the affidavit and the ship tickets have been set in motion.  We hope for success.  These things take time.
Eva, Harry, Hilda, Paul

—————

Telegram III 3/14
NLT Haim Seneor Cohen Seidlgasse 14, Vienna to Germany
Prospects for the affidavit have improved.  We are expecting a further report in about a week.  Vitali cannot work in his profession here.
Paul

The following letter was written to Hilda Firestone in English. I have edited it a bit for clarity. Harry lived with Hilda and Nathan Firestone until he finished high school in spring 1941. Here we discover the answer to the mystery of on February 21: Who is Mouffle?

Vienna, March 3. 1941

Dear Hilda! Just now I received your letter from the 20th of January. It was your description of the Christmas and New Years party on the Firestone-Hill. The number of your guests was wrong. Two you have forgotten to count: Vitali and Helene, who were in your company, not invited indeed and only in our imagination.  

The German language is not so difficult – as you will find after reading my silly letters – only written with the intention of giving you advice to spend your time on the study of another thing. Foolish sentences there are in every language. In the first lesson - given by a young teacher - we learn to say: “I love you” in any language. The intellect never denies anybody. After this knowledge - comprehended easily by everybody - the teacher is trying to show himself in his splendor and gives you an example of his volubility. The pupil is enthusiastic and thinking in this very moment: “Never shall I comprehend this difficult study.” I am anxious – Paul is right to forbid you the correspondence with a fool like me – but sometimes, if it is absolutely necessary, I can write seriously too. The next time I will begin with: Today let us be silly, it is easier.  

Last week I read a book which caused some furor fifteen years ago, by Anita Loos. “Gentlemen Prefer Blonds.” I know it is not a book for people who want to learn the elegance of a foreign language, but I found it very amusing and I have learned a lot of slang which seems to be very necessary to understand Harry. I am sure the Oxford-pronunciation is gone and my son speaks the “erdbergerisch” of San Francisco for what knowledge he will be envied by the inhabitants of all suburbs. He likes speaking on the periphery. Maybe in your society he has no occasion, but his excursions with Mouffle are for study I am sure. Mouffle is discreet and tells nothing about this object. Surely Harry allowed him to do things that are not allowed him if he walks with a lady.

Eva must be very engrossed in her work. I am glad that she has chosen this profession herself. She doesn’t find it so hard. When she was a child of 6 years, she wanted to be a physician. I hope she will reach her purpose.

Hilda, my Dear, I thank you for signing the cable too. I was so happy when I read all your names. I hope to see you very soon as equivalent for all the gloomy hours we had.

Vitali sends his best greetings to you and Nathan, and so do I. Giving you a long kiss, I remain your fondly

Helene

From the same day, a letter to Helene’s children Eva and Harry and her nephew Paul Zerzawy: 

Vienna, 3 March 1941

My dear children and Paul!

Saturday on the 1st at about 1 in the afternoon I got your telegram. Papa wanted to send you back a telegram to confirm receipt, but that apparently is not possible right now. You can imagine how happy we were that we sent things off in good time. Our battery is recharged and with at least ten HP it will go on for awhile.

Papa says that since receiving your dispatch I am behaving in a more civilized way, at least at night and I am using it to sleep as it should be. I actually had a strange feeling when I laid down. It was the condition of not being awake but not having fallen asleep either. I lay quietly and pleasantly in bed, like an object cautiously packaged in cotton. Now, your spirit is leaving its shabby dwelling. I would like to know where it’s going, I thought. Oh, that’s nonsense. If he had left your body, you would not be able to think. I began to count and I was taking care to concentrate on my thoughts as I do before I fall asleep but it just wasn't working. That made me so mad that although I was tired and sleepy when I laid down, I did not fall asleep for a long time. I wanted to think about you but my thoughts took a different direction all the time. It was clear to me that I had left. I identified myself with the spirit which had left my body, but where are all these thoughts coming from which seem so strange to me? Is my body an asylum for homeless ghosts? It sort of disgusts me that my body seemed to me like a wormy apple. No matter what I did to send my thoughts into a specific direction, it was no use, and I began to count again in order to fall asleep. I couldn’t count anymore and I kept having to start over again. I longingly waited for my mind to return. I want to call it my sense of reason and ask it to please not leave me behind, because with the other spirits torturing me, I do not want to have to waste my time on them. Towards the morning I did in fact fall asleep, and when I woke up I had a pleasant feeling like after you take a bath. I must have groomed myself inside, or when my sense of reason came back, did it perhaps notice what a mess I was and clean up? I apparently am just a kind of packing material or box for my own ego [Ich]. My lower case self [ich] has become rather frumpy and I must prepare you for that so that you won’t be horrified when you receive us. The packing material that your father has around him seems to be in better shape or perhaps seems to have been preserved better or it was of better quality. You will recognize him easily.

Today I received a letter from Hilda from the 20th of January. If I can I will answer it so that it will go out with tomorrow’s mail. Yesterday I was reading through letters from you and I must say that the patient who asked her if she had any Spanish blood in her veins was not really so far off. Do not forget that a part of your ancestors until the time of the congenial Isabella lived in Spain. What an enchantress she must have been as Hans Heinz Ewers described in one of his cultural descriptions and explained why such an indefinable color, when you don’t know whether it’s pink or maybe sort of dirty gray is called “Isabella color”. It is worth your while to read this check. Everl’s hospital stories are in comparison to it, the tales of a young girl. Do you remember Everl how one of Papa’s clients, the one I recall either he is a rabbi and his name was Malheurowitsch, or was a Maler [painter] and named Rabinowitsch, said the same thing and wanted to paint you in a Spanish outfit? 

Harry’s last verses were sort of limping along. I know it was the corns on your feet [or referring to chicken eyes of last letter?]. He said he should not be mad about my disparaging criticism of him because a fair critic is what genius really needs. Think about how often Beethoven edited one of his works or Goethe among his understanding and well-meaning friends would read parts of his works aloud and afterwards he would work on them as if he were filing off mistakes.

Gablonz produced heads of great German men for a charity fundraiser. Papa, following my wishes, bought almost all of them. Some of them are not available anymore and he wants to see when he goes out and mails letters how and in what way I can send these to you.

Kisses for you and all of yours from your Helen full of hope.

            Helen

[Handwritten] It’s too bad that I don’t have any well-meaning friends around. They would certainly suggest that I write this letter in a different way because I am out of control. No matter for that for I am happy.

I searched for the name “Gablonz”, thinking I’d find an artist. Instead, I found a company that made bohemian beaded Christmas decorations. Gablonz (Jablonec in Czech) was known for its glass and jewelry production. In a letter written the following day, Vitali has discovered that you need permission of an army officer and that postage would be prohibitive, so the items were never sent.