December 30, 2022

1950s-1980s

As I mentioned in the December 26th post,  a few months ago my relatively new-found cousin showed me many documents and photos about Hilda. Included in these materials was a eulogy her mother Joan Zentner had written for Hilda’s memorial. From that, we have a picture of how Hilda spent the rest of her life.

Joan wrote that after Nathan’s and her father’s death, “there was a desperate loneliness, and a wanderlust took hold. Her first stop, Norway, was to visit her dear friend Asbjörn Finess. This friendship grew and became everlasting….. After Norway she wandered around Europe from Italy she decided to visit a friend in Israel where she met her second husband, George Haimovici. It was a very quick courtship with a dip in the mikvah and they were married and took off for Rio de Janeiro where George felt he could make a new life and fortune. All of her friends and family shared her letters and worried.”

Hilda certainly doesn’t look happy in this immigration card photo that I found on Ancestry.com:

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Apparently one impetus for leaving San Francisco was to get away from Aunt Tillie’s influence. This confirms my mother’s and uncle’s desire to leave the family influence as quickly as possible: Eva going to nursing school and Harry joining the army.

From the eulogy: “For a while Hilda fantasized that George was more than he really was, and busied herself with writing, …practiced the piano and made new friends. Her marriage ended in divorce about five years later.”

By 1958, she returned to San Francisco. Her friend Asbjörn Finess had moved from Norway with his wife, and for a time she lived with them. Like Nathan, Asbjörn played viola in the San Francisco Symphony. In that setting, she rejoined the musical world, became more social, and took delight in life again.

San Francisco Examiner, December 25, 1958, p28

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Hilda and Asbjörn in undated photo

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After her divorce and after Tillie died in 1962, Hilda permanently returned to San Francisco. Having inherited money from her aunt, she was able to live comfortably with whichever dog was in her life at the time. In the 1970s, while between dogs, she took a few long trips to Europe, visiting friends and having a marvelous time.

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By the late 1970s, her physical health had deteriorated badly and she was quite infirm. She spent her last years at the Jewish Home for the Aged (her time there may have coincided with that of my grandmother’s). Hilda wrote in a letter to a friend: “I wish I was as matter of fact about my physical condition as you seem to think I am. I’m not really. I’m in a fury about it, but I don’t talk about it because it would be bad manners. I’m especially upset when I cause my friends so much trouble. They do everything but draw up architectural plans before seating me in a room with a lot of other people. I’m invited to a wedding next month, and I’m told they already found the right place and the right chair for me to sit on during the reception.”

She died peacefully and painlessly in 1984 at the age of 80. Postscript tomorrow.

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.

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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.

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San Francisco Examiner September 21, 1941, p41

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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.”

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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:

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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

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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

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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.

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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.

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

December 27, 2022

The 1920s - Early Adulthood

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

Salem Memorial Park in Colma, California

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

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

Hilda continued to enjoy parties with friends:

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

A life filled with music

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

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

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

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

At a California Teachers’ Association Institute in 1921:

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

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

March 8, 1925 page 45 San Francisco Chronicle

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

January 9, 1927 page 6D San Francisco Chronicle

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

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

November 1, 1912

On Friday afternoons we have no real work. Miss Cashen reads to us out of books that are not school books or we talk about anything we want to without raising our hands for permission. This afternoon Miss Cashen said, “I think it would be nice if we would all take a trip to Europe. Who knows anything about any European country?” Antoinette said she knew all about Italy because her father was born in Genoa and so was Columbus. Miss Cashen said that was most interesting and would Antoinette tell us what her father remembers best about living there. Antoinette said that what her father likes best about Italy is spaghetti, and he is always telling her mother that hers wasn’t nearly as good as what his mother made. Miss Cashen said of course, Italian spaghetti was very fine but Italy had other fine things: Art Galleries and wonderful old palaces and beautiful churches. I said that I knew about the churches. I described the marble cake that daddy’s friend serves when we have tea at her house. Miss Cashen said that we should go on to another country and we would come back to Italy another time. So she said France and asked us what France was famous for? Wesley said the French language and Margaret said perfume. She said that once her mother had a bottle of French perfume. A nice man brought it to her one afternoon and when her father came home, he was awfully mad and threw it out of the window and her mother was even madder. Then Miss Cashen said we mustn’t forget Germany. And then she said to me, “Hilda! Your family came from Germany and you speak a little German. Were you born there?” I said, “No, I was born in New York but nearly everyone else in my family were born in either Germany or Austria.” I told them that I know that Germany was a very beautiful country, full of forest and castles and cuckoo clocks and there was a man named Beethoven who wrote beautiful music and I had learned to play “Für Elise” which he wrote for a little girl named Elise. And I told them about the Rhine river and about the “Lorelei” who combed their golden hair on a special rock and the sailors who would crash their ships forgetting about the rocks because they had to see her. Miss Cashen thanked me and then we went to Spain. I raised my hand again and I said that I knew that there were bull fights in Spain and beautiful music called “Carmen.” I explained that “Carmen” is an Opera and that there is a song in it that my father sings when he is taking a bath, “The Toreador Song.” (I guess daddy sings in the bath tub because he can’t play his flute there, as it might get wet.) From Spain we jumped way up North to three lovely countries called Norway, Sweden and Denmark. Norway has wonderful forests and beautiful goats and cheese. The cheese is made from goats milk and it looks like the brown soap that Ito uses to scrub the kitchen and it tastes like the soap too. Norway is also famous for fish and for waterfalls and for beautiful lilacs in the springtime and for the Vikings. The Vikings were ugly men with beards and swords and spears who sailed all around the world grabbing other mens’ countries and wives.

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Hilda wrote of the Lorelei song in her April 8th entry. My grandmother too referred to it in her writing, although I’m only realizing it now. In a story about her youth, she wrote of telling a man who was flirting with her that even if he had “Lorelei hair” she would refuse to listen. “Die Lorelei” is a famous German folk song from a poem by Heinrich Heine.

October 22, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

Sometimes our school teachers are so silly. Today Miss Cashen taught us a new song and it is called “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.” While we sang it, she made us point to the sky. I could understand doing it at night but it was a bright, sunny morning. How could there be a star?

September 4, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

Today I had a really nice time. Mr. Bauer, he that is the man who brings the milk every day, took me to his house to play with his little girl. Her name is Ernestine, she is named after a beautiful singer, who is Ernestine Schumann-Heink. The Bauers are German and know many lovely German songs and they sing them at their table. The one I love most is called “Der Lindenbaum” and it is about a tree. I wish we could sing at our dinner table. Aunt Tillie says that it is impolite to sing at the table but I don’t think it is as impolite as yelling about presidents and other things the way Grandfather and his friends do. Mr. Bauer has lots of cows besides having his wife and Ernestine. Mrs. Bauer is big and soft and fat, and she always smells so clean and fresh, like bread that has just come out of the oven. I think it is just as nice as perfume but I suppose that when a lady goes to a ball, it is better for her to smell of perfume than bread. I love being with the Bauers.

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I love it when Hilda’s entries hark back to the experiences of my close relatives. I found a link to Ernestine Schumann-Heink singing “Der Erlkönig”, a song that my grandmother and uncle each wrote about in their World War II letters, reminding each of them of happy times when the family was together. In a story about her life in Bohemia in 1902, my grandmother wrote about the school choir singing several songs including Schubert’s Der Lindenbaum. 

August 25, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

Tante Esther came to see me and brought me a little squab, but when I found out what a squab was I couldn’t eat it. It’s a little pigeon just like the ones we feed in front of City Hall.

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Pulitzer Prize Award winning San Francisco Chronicle columnist Herb Caen would have been appalled by people feeding pigeons at City Hall. Hilda would not have agreed with his repeated complaints about the pigeon population here. She would have liked Julie Andrews’ rendition of “Feed the Birds” in the film “Mary Poppins” much more.

August 12, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

Last night we had company for dinner and as it is vacation, I was allowed to come to the table. These people were not relations, but I don’t like them anyhow. Why do people always ask you if you are a good little girl? Mr. Baker asked me that and then he asked me if I went to Sunday school, and I said, “Oh yes, I do because my Grandfather makes me go” and then he asked me what I learned there and I said, “Not much.” He laughed again, and said that I was a wise little girl to know that I didn’t know much but he didn’t tell me why. Then Mrs. Baker asked me to tell them something I had learned in Sunday school, so I told them the story of “Adam and Eve.” I said that…

Adam and Eve had been very stupid, and had eaten an apple that had been given to them by a very dirty old snake and anyone should know better than to eat a dirty old apple, especially from a dirty old snake and so God of course didn’t want such stupid people in the Garden of Eden, so he had them thrown out.

Mr. Baker asked me if our Sunday school teacher taught us that and I said no, but that it must have been like that.

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Last weekend I attended an outdoor concert by a favorite singer, Paula West. She sang one of her signature songs — “Snake” — Hilda knew the moral of the story without having heard the song.

Paula West and her trio at the Yerba Buena Gardens Festival in San Francisco on August 6, 2022.

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July 28, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

Grandmother told me this morning that I would have to start piano lessons again and I hate them. I hate my teacher but I have to have her, because her mother is in an insane asylum.

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Although she says she hated piano lessons, in earlier diary entries, it is clear that Hilda loved music. In fact, she became quite an accomplished musician, as can be seen in this newspaper article from the San Francisco Chronicle from February 25, 1925 when Hilda was was 21 years old.

July 25, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

Today, Grandmother took me to call on some people who have a phonograph. They have a nice cat and I got to play with her, I think it’s a her. The record they played is called “The Battle of Santiago.” It was a real battle and we could hear the drums and bugles and the wounded horses and the wounded soldiers and I began to scream the way I always do when I am scared, so they stopped the record and played another, and I stopped screaming. The other record was “Ave Maria” on the violin. What a difference a record can make. I can’t understand anyone wanting to listen to a battle like that, or any other battle.

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Perhaps the links above to recordings from the Library of Congress are the very records Hilda listened to.

July 6, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

Aunt Tillie had some of her friends to the house today. One of them played the piano and another lady sang and everyone said that she sang so beautifully but I know that she didn’t. She sounded just like an ambulance when it rushes down the street but I didn’t tell her so.

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The description of Aunt Tillie’s friend’s singing is reminiscent of Florence Foster Jenkins. Hilda is learning self-restraint rather than blurting out every reaction or opinion. At least once in awhile.

June 28, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

The piece I am going to play for my father is a very pretty one. It is called “Auf der Wiese.” That means the meadow and Grandfather said to remember to pronounce the “W” like a “V” in German. How could I forget? Sometimes I think that grown-ups, even Grandfather, just keep reminding children that they are the smartest. The poem I haven’t chosen yet and Alma tells me that I have to hurry up, I only have two days left.

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Hilda probably played a Mozart song based on a poem by Goethe: Das Veilchen ("The Violet"). The first line is Ein Veilchen auf der Wiese stand (“A violet in the meadow stood”).

June 27, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

I wonder if my father still has that same funny mustache with a curl at each end of it. Every morning when he gets up, he wraps the curls in a paper and he sits and practices the flute. The last time he was here he took me to the house of a very nice lady and she played the piano and together they played duets. Afterwards they had a tea party and she gave me a big piece of cake made of different colors. She called it a marble cake because the colors swirl and look like marble and then my father said that in Italy many beautiful churches are made out of colorful marble like the cake.

June 26, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

I wonder if my father will take me to the Orpheum again and to the same beautiful restaurant he took me to the last time he was here. My father is very nice. Last time he let me order just what I wanted for lunch. It was French fried potatoes and ice cream together. I can never have that at home. My father plays the flute. Once he let me blow into it but I couldn’t, I could only spit in it.

June 25, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

A telegram came from my father this morning. He is coming to see me next week, Sunday, June thirtieth. Aunt Tillie says that now I must stop biting my nails so they will be pretty by the time he arrives here. Grandmother says that I must learn a new piece on the piano so that I can play for him, and Alma wants me to learn a poem to recite. Grandfather says, “Let the child alone.”

Hilda was born in New York to Solomon and Hilda Goldberg. She originally was to be named Claire (her mother’s middle name), but after her mother died a few days after she was born, she was named Hilda Claire Goldberg. It was decided that Hilda would be raised by her maternal grandparents Jacob and Sarah Levy in San Francisco. I don’t know how often she saw her father. He appears as a member of the Levy household in the 1910 census — he and 6-year old Hilda are listed as “lodgers.”

Hilda became quite an accomplished pianist.

April 16, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

No one talks about anything except the “Titanic.” Grandfather came home late for lunch because he stands all morning in front of the Examiner building looking for news on the Blackboard. Nearly everyone on the ship was drowned. One lady refused to go into the life boat without her beautiful Great Dane and one lady refused to go without her husband and they all drowned with musicians who kept playing all the time the ship was sinking. They played “Nearer My God to Thee,” which isn’t a very pretty melody but the words have something to do with being close to God and if you are drowning you might as well think of heaven, I guess?

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I was unable to find information about the San Francisco Examiner’s “blackboard” — in the days before CNN and Twitter, the board would have been a convenient way to learn about breaking news between newspaper editions. Although the wikipedia entry for “Nearer My God to Thee” says that it was probably not played on the Titanic, the Examiner’s headlines a few days after today’s entry mention the song:

April 13, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

This morning was lovely. All of a sudden there was music and right outside the parlor window was a man with a hand organ and with the darlingest monkey. The monkey was dressed in a little green suit trimmed in red and gold. All the children on the block came running and we gave the monkey nickels and pennies. He then took them in his little hands and put them in his pocket and every so often he would tip his hat, which looked like a tiny round box upside-down and it was green and gold too with a little red feather stuck in it. The man then sang a very beautiful song called “Santa Lucia” and it is an Italian song. People sing in gondolas. Gondolas are very special boats that are used in Venice and while the boatman sings the people hold hands and kiss. Venice is a city in Italy that has no streets and no streetcars and you have to ride in boats through water canals to get from place to place.

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1892 photo, Overpeck (photographer, Hamilton, Ohio, USA), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

April 8, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

On Monday mornings the whole school must go to the auditorium and sing ugly songs. The ugliest of all is “The Star Spangled Banner.” It has notes that no one can reach, not even the principal who has a very nice voice and you can hear him over all ours and the other teachers’ voices too whenever we sing. I don’t like national songs so much and I don’t like flags either. Every morning we must salute the flag and then put our hand over on our forehead like soldiers do and say a piece about being true to our country. I do it but I do not like it. I don’t really understand it all or why? Anyway, my favorite songs are in German and Grandfather sings them. One is called “Die Lorelei.” She is a mermaid who stands on a rock in the middle of a river and combs her hair. Only I don’t see how she can stand up on a tail. Also, it isn’t very polite of her to comb her hair in public, I am never allowed to come out of my room until my hair is combed.

April 7, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

Today is Sunday and we had company, but I didn’t have to play the piano or recite because grandmother wanted to show off the new doll and have her sing. Grandmother named the doll “Tetrazzini.” Madame Tetrazzini is in the opera and she sings with a flute to accompany her. I heard about it because Grandmother once made Grandfather take her to the Tivoli Opera House to hear Madame Tetrazzini sing in an opera called “Lucia.” There is a special scene in it called the mad scene and Grandmother was talking about it to the company and Grandfather said in a loud voice, “Lucia isn’t the only one who is mad. There are a few others living in this house.” Everyone laughed but Grandmother didn’t and I know she was angry.

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Luisa Tetrazzini was a famous opera singer who made her U.S. debut in San Francisco in January 1905. The town went wild for her, particularly her singing of the mad scene from Lucia di Lammermoor. She was so popular that she returned in the fall of 1905.

San Francisco Chronicle January 18, 1905

San Francisco Chronicle November 6, 1905

Tetrazzini returned to San Francisco several times, including in 1910, but not at the Tivoli Opera House which had been destroyed in the 1906 earthquake and not rebuilt until 1913. She loved San Francisco as much as San Francisco loved her, and she gave a free Christmas Eve concert in 1910 to thank residents for their support and to provide a morale boost to a town still recovering from the devastation of the earthquake and fire. Tetrazzini must have been fresh on their minds because a memorial plaque was unveiled on March 24, 1912, just two weeks before Hilda wrote this entry.

Plaque at Lotta’s fountain courtesy of SAN FRANCISCO HISTORY CENTER, SAN FRANCISCO PUBLIC LIBRARY (according to SFPL digital photos: "Bas. relief portrait of Luisa Tetrazzini by Haig Patigian added to Lotta's Fountain in memory of event in which Tetrazzini sang 'The Last Rose of Summer' beside the fountain Christmas Eve 1910.")

Photo courtesy of SAN FRANCISCO HISTORY CENTER, SAN FRANCISCO PUBLIC LIBRARY

Lotta’s fountain, present day. Plaque at top.

March 12, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

I can’t do arithmetic. Sancha tries to help me when I am at home but she can’t do it either. Grandfather always starts to help me but then I beg him to sing German songs to me instead and at first he says he won’t. He tells me that certain hours are for work, and certain ones for singing and this was still a working hour but he always ends up doing it and I know the words to some of the songs and we end up singing together. Arithmetic is so difficult and I have silly problems like Farmer Brown’s cow gives one gallon of milk and Farmer White’s cat had eight kittens so how long does it take Farmer Green’s chickens to lay a hundred eggs a day and how long is Farmer Black’s fence? Why all these farmers?

As I read today’s entry, I like to think that Hilda and her grandfather are singing songs from the book my grandmother sent her from Vienna when Hilda was a child. Hilda mentions this book in a 1946 letter to Helene.