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Today’s letter from Helene in Vienna and to her children in San Francisco follows the ones we saw on September 5 and 6.

Clipper #50 (fifty)

Vienna, 9 September 1940

My dear Children!

I am acting as if I believe Papa when he says that your letters were among those that were seized in the Bermuda islands. He says this as if he is so sure of it that he would swear to it, but I am a doubting Thomasine.

The whole time the weather has been just as dark as my mood. The rooms have been as cold and unpleasant as it would normally be in November. I therefore took our winter clothing out of storage and when this happened, of course the sun peeked out as if gloating at me, to make fun of me in my annoyance. But as old as the sun is, she fooled me, but I just can’t let myself be bothered by something like that right now. The day we had yesterday was beautiful like in May. It was made for going outside in the fresh air and filling up your lungs with oxygen. Despite that, we decided to stay home. The green blanket played the role of the meadow and no government official and no hall supervisor could get me away from here. I lay still, but instead of dozing off like you tend to do, practically a requirement when you’re out there laying on the meadow, in my head, thoughts of you marched around. I am sure the next letter will get me a few lines from Harry.

I am looking at Everl’s last letter and I am still just amazed by the metamorphosis in her handwriting. Is this something she did on purpose or did this just happen? However that may be, it’s really wonderful and I’m really happy about it. I did work as a typographer and I am used to trying to figure out illegible handwriting, but Everl’s scribble was the hardest thing I ever had to deal with. It really tortured me, and not just me. The most unclear manuscript I ever dealt with at work was the weekly repertoire of the Teplitz City Theater and so I asked our Father to typeset that for me. That was the first thing I ever had to do with the theater; the ones that came to Bilin on occasion didn’t count. “On Sunday, whatever the date was, with a special higher priced Lohengrin in the title role Mr. Erik Schmedes as a guest performer” - that I could figure out only with great difficulty. I begged Father to get tickets for us early enough which he was glad to do, so from Thursday to Sunday I could hardly sleep in joyous anticipation. The production started two hours earlier than they usually did and the train would only be getting there shortly before. We didn’t really look at the theater handbills very carefully, otherwise we would have noticed that they had changed the program. If Mr. Schmedes or perhaps the swan had a sore throat, or whether the performance had to be postponed to the following Sunday, because they didn’t have a dove falling from the heavens, I can’t remember anymore. I just remember that my sister Mattl got upset because she found that instead of the overture from Lohengrin, she heard the music from “The Sweet Girl.” [Das süsse Mädel] Mattl became pale and paler, pale and paler. What are the Bilin people going to say when they see such a rude and vulgar play with such a young girl in attendance? When I looked at her, she seemed to be fighting with the idea - should she and I leave before this shocking operetta even started? Or should we say, well, that’s fate? On the train we agreed we didn’t want to call attention to ourselves by leaving the theater early. This excuse applied not just to the parents and to the others in Bilin who sat in the next train compartment and were passing judgment on us. Apparently, those were rather progressive people, because Mattl’s reputation did not suffer. It’s funny that I think of this right now, but thought associations are easy to explain because the same impatience and the same pounding heart which I experienced on that theater Sunday back then, that’s how I fell today when I wait for your letters. I hope the Bermuda intermezzo doesn’t cause them to change the program.

Our housemates are very pleasant people. Yesterday and today, it’s been quite lively around here. The chimney sweep came and did his best to cover my recently washed kitchen with a black patina which he did even better at in the bathroom and the entrance hall. The workers above our balcony sounded like they were trying to escape or something. They were cutting things down and with quite a bit of rumbling and a whole lot of dirt, they managed to get it into our room. But that’s not enough. The floor, which always did have the tendency to move down to the floor below, started to sink so much that I decided I should put up a sign saying: “watch the step.” There were carpenters and supervisors here today and they will fix that part of the floor in a few days. I’m looking forward to that. I think our back-to-nature idyll is over since the scaffolding has been removed from the inner courtyard side of the building. But then I thought about it, they’re probably going to put it up on the facade. So now you see what your old former house looks like.

Have you gotten used to your school environment? How was your vacation? All of these things are very, very interesting to me and I hope that you will tell me all about it in detail.

Well, I’m going to close for today with well-directed kisses and please tell everyone hello.

I wish you all the best and all that is good and beautiful,

I remain your
Helene

As Helene continues to wait for mail from her children, her mind wanders to an early memory of her childhood in Bilin, Bohemia. She did typesetting for her father’s newspaper. Her love of music was already great and she begged her father to get tickets for a production of Wagner’s Lohengrin in the largest nearby town, Teplitz.  

She was looking forward to hearing a famous tenor of the day in the starring role, but unfortunately there was a change in schedule and instead, the theater was putting on an operetta by Heinrich Reinhardt.  

The operetta was first performed in 1901, so the event Helene describes would have taken place in 1901 or 1902 when she was 15 and her sister Mattl was 23. I hope one day to be able to see issues of the Biela-Zeitung from that time and perhaps see the advertisement she describes.

Helene’s sister’s reaction was “What will people think?” As one of the few Jewish families in an antisemitic town and with a father who did not always make himself popular with those in charge, it’s not surprising that Mattl didn’t want to call attention to themselves.

It’s nice to learn that Helene’s dread of a few days earlier about the new tenants has not turn out to be true.