A Family Heirloom

As I mentioned in my last post, in 1979, my mother flew to France to join me at the end of my junior year abroad in Montpellier, France. She had not been to Europe since she and her brother had been forced to flee Vienna 40 years earlier.

While in Paris walking around Montmartre, my mother paid a sketch artist to make a charcoal portrait of me. I never felt that the portrait looked much like me, but my mother was happy with the likeness. Perhaps I just didn’t like the way I looked! She was inspired to have the drawing made thanks to a pastel portrait she had of her own mother which had been done in the 1930s in Vienna. My mother and her brother brought the portrait them when they came to the U.S. in 1939.  

Upon arriving back home in San Francisco, my mother framed the sketch and hung it on her bedroom wall, accompanying the one of her mother which already hung there. Although I didn’t like my own portrait, I thought the artist captured my grandmother’s likeness well.

I don’t recall seeing my grandmother’s portrait before 1979, but perhaps it was hanging in our home throughout my childhood.

When my mother moved to the condo I live in now, her mother’s portrait hung prominently in the dining room. I loved seeing her each time I visited, looking out on her family. After my mother’s death, I stored the portrait safely in a closet.

In 2017, when I began going through my family papers, I brought out the portrait again to add it to the digital archive I was making. I then hung it up in our hallway. Looking at a newly digitized photo of my mother’s 16th birthday party from May 1937, I could see clearly something I had not noticed on the small original 2-1/2x3inch photo – my grandmother’s portrait was hanging on the wall in their dining room! I loved that my grandmother was now looking at me every time I walked down the hallway, just as her image had looked on she and her family in their home in Vienna.

Recently, I wondered whether my grandmother’s nephew Robert Zerzawy had made the portrait – he had been an accomplished artist. I was going to ask Sherlock Cohn (a woman who helps identify people and places in old photos) to compare the drawing to others I know he had made. Before doing that, however, it occurred to me to take the portrait (gingerly) out of the frame and see whether it was signed. Indeed it was! As so often has happened on this journey, I discovered that the story I told myself about the object was not true. The portrait was signed and dated by Wilhelm Wachtel in 1937 – so the portrait was quite new when my mother celebrated her birthday. My grandmother’s 50th birthday was in November 1936. Perhaps the portrait was made in honor of that milestone.

There is not much information available on Wilhelm Wachtel. It appears that he was born in Poland in 1875 and died in the US in 1952. He seems to have been prolific and fairly well-known when he was alive. If you do an internet search, you can see many examples of his work.

What an amazing artifact that gets richer each time I look at it!

Top photo: at their home in Vienna on my mother’s 16th birthday in 1937 with the portrait on the wall behind them and a red line pointing to Eva; bottom left photo: at my mother’s home in San Francisco with her brother Harry and her caregiver with the portrait on the wall behind them; bottom right photo: the portrait itself.

Vienna

In a recent session of Barbara Krasner’s Writing Family History group, we wrote about a geographic place that is meaningful to our family. I chose Vienna, Austria:

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I am in Vienna: the one I visited in 1978-1979 with a friend over Christmas break during my junior year abroad in France and again the following summer with my mother on her first visit back to Europe since fleeing in 1939; the Vienna of my mother’s youth in the 1920s, and of her own mother’s youth at the turn of the 20th Century.

The music of Strauss fills the air. I am swaying to the strains of the “Blue Danube.” I am in line for standing room only tickets to attend a performance of Die Fledermaus on January 1, 1979, the opera played every new year at the Vienna State Opera. I wasn’t able to attend the New Year’s Eve performance, but I came close! I had one of my first “Twilight Zone” experiences that night as we waited for the streetcar to return to our pension after the performance. Out of the darkness a woman completely enveloped in a huge coat against the bitter cold appeared and said “Hello, Helen Goldsmith.” She was a friend from UC Berkeley who was studying in Edinburgh while I was in Montpellier, France. What a strange and magical experience to have someone from home suddenly appear!

Now I am in Stadtpark near the statue of Strauss. I imagine my mother and uncle playing on the grass when they were children, with my grandmother delightedly watching them. Despite the fact that everywhere I look are signs prohibiting people from walking on the grass.

Strauss statue in 1979.

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I walk to the Hotel Sacher for a cup of coffee mit schlag, and a slice of the famous Sacher Torte, a two-layer chocolate cake with apricot jam between the layers, topped with dark chocolate icing. When I was a child in San Francisco, my mother would sometimes make a Sacher Torte for special occasions. My mouth waters as I imagine licking the spoon after she finishes icing the cake.

Now, I am peering in the window of Café Centrale, around 1906, seeing my 20-year old grandmother, a young shop girl whose social life includes visiting the café most days. She lives in modest quarters and the café is her living room. She reads the latest newspapers from Vienna and around the world and meets her friends for conversation, intellectual arguments, and laughter.

Now it’s 1934, and I am on the Stubenring looking at Libansky & Co, my grandparents’ stationery shop. This is the heyday of my grandfather’s “magic shop.” He stands outside basking in the sun, leaning against the building. He chats up passers-by, once in awhile inviting one of them into the shop for him to read their palms or sell them a mandrake root for their protection.

A postcard of the Stubenring. The arrow points to my grandparents’s shop, Libansky & Co.

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Vitali at the shop window with customers in 1934.

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Again recalling my visit over Christmas break in 1978-79, I am back at the pension near St. Stephen’s Cathedral. An old widow runs it. She has a small, wheezy, unfriendly dog who roams the halls at night. At breakfast, one of the guests – an employee of the Mexican embassy – says in stilted yet lovely English, “Madam, your dog does not look at me with good eyes.” I couldn’t have said it better.

St. Stephen’s Cathedral and ticket to Die Fledermaus from 1979.

The pension is above a nightclub (perhaps a strip club) called “Casablanca.” When my mother and I stay there the following summer, I ask her to go into the club and get me a poster as a gift for the friend I had visited Vienna with several months earlier. She is too embarrassed to do so, but teaches me the German to go in and ask myself. I am successful and secure two posters, one for my friend and one for me. A few years ago, my husband and I had dinner with friends and reminisced about student travel. It turned out that they had stayed at the very same pension and were thrilled when I gave them the poster.

Final image: it is the summer of 1979. My mother has decided she needs a copy of her birth certificate in case all the other documentation she has about her existence will not be sufficient for her to apply for Social Security benefits in a few years. We go to the Jewish organization that has all of the old books of Jewish records. It is the 4th of July, which seems auspicious! Births were recorded by hand in huge tomes. The less-than-friendly employee unenthusiastically hands my mother the book for 1921, the year of her birth. She is nowhere to be found and my mother is crestfallen. My mother decides that since we are there, she might as well see whether her brother appears in the 1924 book so the visit might be worthwhile. We find him immediately. My mother listlessly continues to turn the pages without much hope and suddenly finds her own birth recorded a few years after she was born. For some reason, her father hadn’t wanted to deal with the bureaucracy to record the information (or considered it an invasion of privacy?) until after his second child, a son, was born. 

Copy of Harry’s birth certificate from 1979.

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I smell the coffee and pastry, hear the strains of Strauss waltzes, see the Vienna of my mother’s childhood, and the Vienna my grandmother loved before it became an unfriendly hellscape. What is the real Vienna – the idyllic playground or the antisemitic nightmare? Probably both.  I look forward to visiting again to see whether there is a Vienna that is mine.

A day to remember fondly

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.

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From Helene to Eva in San Francisco:

Vienna, 27 December 1940

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

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

December 16, 1944

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

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From Helene to Eva and Harry in San Francisco:

Istanbul, 11 January 1946

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

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.

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 8, 1912

From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

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

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

April 12, 1912

Grandfather took me and Brownie to a studio to have our pictures taken today. We are sitting in an airplane with our faces stuck out of the windows. Each of us has a window all to himself. Brownie too. The place where we had our pictures taken was fun. You could pick out anything you wanted to have your picture taken with, like you could be on a donkey or even the man in the moon or on a boat or if you wanted to you could hold a basket of flowers or a doll but of course I wouldn’t like that. You could even be sitting next to a phonograph, and listen to music.

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Although Hilda doesn’t describe the photo we see at the start of each entry, it’s possible that it was taken on this very day. I’d love to see the photo of them in the “airplane.” I have similar studio portraits taken of my mother and uncle in Vienna in 1926. My mother holds her toy rather gingerly — most likely provided by the studio rather than being a treasured possession.

January 11, 1912

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

From 8-year old Hilda Firestone’s diary:

Today is Aunt Tillie’s birthday, and tomorrow is mine. I don’t know exactly how old Aunt Tillie is. When I ask her, she says that it isn’t polite to ask people how old they are, so then I said that all her friends must be very impolite because everyone who comes to see us always asks me how old I am. She said it is quite polite to ask children, and I asked what is the difference. She just said, “Because it is.” That’s just the same answer that Grandmother gives to me.

I made Aunt Tillie a beautiful pen wiper for her birthday, and it is shaped like a pig. Alma taught me how to embroider beautiful blue eyes on him. This afternoon, Aunt Tillie is going to have her birthday party. Lots of ladies are coming to play bridge. I love Aunt Tillie’s parties because I don’t have to go to them. I can stay upstairs, and try on all the ladies’ clothes that are piled up on my bed, and when they have finished their tea, I can go downstairs and finish all the little sandwiches and cakes that are left over.

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Hilda’s aunt Tillie was born in 1882 and would have been 30 years old in 1912. As I read about Hilda’s family in San Francisco, I find myself thinking about my grandmother Helene and her family in Europe at the same period. Helene was 25 years old, single, and living in Vienna. She often visited her orphaned Zerzawy nephews and nieces in Bohemia who were schoolchildren with no thought of the war to come. Helene wrote regularly to her cousins in San Francisco, sometimes sending gifts to their children.

At a time when people wrote with fountain pens, pen wipers were useful tools, and came in a variety of materials. Helene may already have been working at the stationery shop in Vienna in 1912 — the shop window advertised that they repaired fountain pens, so undoubtedly she sold pen wipers too.

Photo of Helene (and perhaps Harry) in front of her stationery shop in Vienna from the early 1930s. Awning sign shows picture of a fountain pen and the words “Repairs Immediately”

In my family papers, several letters mentioned Tillie’s and Hilda’s birthdays, including a letter from Harry asking his sister to purchase flowers in 1944.

December 31

Looking back and going forward

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Today we reach the end of 2021 and of my daily blog presenting Helene’s and her family’s letters and papers. My goal this year was to give my grandmother her voice, because throughout her life, she wanted to be heard and read, had a great deal to say, and was incredibly eloquent in saying it. Helene was many things to many people – Eva’s and Harry’s beloved mother; Vitali’s darling wife; the Zerzawy boys’ treasured aunt and their last connection to their mother who died when they were very young; a dear friend to many; and my cousins’ and my own sweet grandmother.

Over the course of this year, I found that other family members also wanted to be heard. We saw papers covering more than a century and spanning much of the globe. Just this last week, for example, we were taken on a rich journey – from a desolate World War I prisoner of war camp in Eastern Siberia, to Christmas in Bohemia, to Vienna during a freezing winter in World War II, to London, Istanbul, San Francisco, and a World War II army training camp.

I now know my family in a much deeper and richer way, and have an appreciation for relatives who always seemed distant and not really part of my immediate family’s story. I am filled with love for people who once were strangers, some of whom died decades before I was born.

If you are interested in (re)visiting the blog from the beginning, click here.

I am grateful to my subscribers who joined me on my journey and provided wonderful feedback.

I am going to miss “seeing” my family every day, but intend to find a way to tell their story in a different way, perhaps in book form.

I will end the year with some family photos:

 Vitali and Helene at a dinner party in Vienna, probably in the 1920s:

Vitali is second from the left in the top row, Helene second from the left in the bottom.

Looking at the above photo, I am reminded of a trip my husband and I took to London and where I met his cousins for the first time. We have a very similar photo taken of all of us in a restaurant with 3 other couples. I wonder if some of the people pictured above were relatives from San Francisco — perhaps including Tillie and Julius Zentner?

One of the few photos we have of the entire family in Vienna - Vitali in shadow, probably taken in around 1930:

Helene and her two children:

Helene in San Francisco, with her son Harry, Eva, and Eva’s husband, probably taken around 1946 or 1947:

My mother, my grandmother, and me:

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What’s Next?

Looking to the future, I plan to do something different in 2022.

In the February 13th and November 22nd posts, I wrote about a family tree created in 1996-1997 by the husband of a distant cousin. He included anecdotes and footnotes, including one which mentioned that Hilda Firestone, the daughter of Helene’s cousin, had written a “diary/book about the family”. When I saw the note, I was eager to see the diary, but could not figure out how to find it. Then one day as I was looking for something on a bookcase, I discovered I had a copy that had been given to mother!

Hilda was born in January 1904 and her mother died just a few days later. She was raised in San Francisco by her grandparents and her aunt Tillie. Included in this blog over the past year, we saw one letter written by Hilda and several written to her from Helene and from Harry. From them, we can imagine an intelligent, empathetic, funny, caring, and loving person – another woman with a message

In 1912, Hilda was given a diary in which she wrote nearly every day. In 2022, I will share 8-year-old Hilda’s observations of her life and of San Francisco. She did not write every day, many entries are brief, and I have few related materials, so it will be different from my posts in 2021. If you are a subscriber, please feel free to continue or to unsubscribe, depending on your interest.

Happy New Year!!!

December 29

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

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

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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.”

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

December 27

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

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 23

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Today we have a letter from Helene’s nephew Robert Zerzawy in England to his cousins Eva and Harry in San Francisco. At this point, Helene has been in Istanbul for over six months after having been released from Ravensbrück.

23 December 1945                  Green Pastures, Bridport

Dear Eva and Harry,

I have to thank you for sending me copies of your mother’s letters from March. I hoped to have a reply from Mr. Joseph de Sevilya but so far there is no response. So I can only hope that you will have heard from Istanbul in the meantime, and that the cryptic behavior of your Turkish relations will have found a quite trivial explanation.

Hilda has somehow acquired the role of an information center on our family affairs. Through. Her I know in outlines about you, for instance that you, Eva, are married and you, Harry, had a victorious return home from the South Pacific with no bad effects other than a tendency to scratching your skin or something like that which by now, I hope, has ceased to trouble you. Speaking of scratching: I guess, our mutual relationship will have to be built up again from scratch too. All you remember of me is, I assume, my little car which doesn’t exist any longer. (Or one should reasonably think it died ignominiously somewhere in the Ukraine or in the Balkans. I was informed from Prague that by force of Government decree I am again the lawful owner of the vehicle provided I can trace and provided it is in a usable state.)

And what I recollect of you apart from table hockey with spoons and stencil paper balls after lunch or cacophonistic duets are Harry’s illustrated weeklies which I hope he kept up in the jungles so giving documentary evidence of their superior lawfulness as compared with the nice mess in Europe or elsewhere in so-called civilized regions.

So it may be quite entertaining to renew our acquaintance and perhaps we like each other. I for my part am looking forward to it and with this pleasant prospect I am sending you my warmest wishes for the New Year and that with Helen with us we shall be a happy family.

Robert 

---

After discovering all of my family letters and papers that Harry stashed away, I spent several years organizing, archiving and translating everything. Since this was a perfectly legible letter in English, somehow I never read it until I was preparing today’s post! What a treasure it is.

Robert was born in 1899. His mother – Helene’s sister Ida – died when he was just 2-1/2 years old. His step-mother/aunt died when he was 11. His aunt Helene was the nearest thing he had to a maternal figure throughout his life.

I believe Joseph de Sevilya was married to one of Vitali’s sisters. As we learned from Helene’s letters from Istanbul, during the first part of her time there Vitali’s family often visited. However, most of them had little ability to help financially and the agency supporting the prisoners kept moving them to save money on housing, making it difficult for the family to even know how to find her.

At this point, Helene and Hilda have never met – nor have Robert and Hilda. Yet, they maintained a warm correspondence. The three of them were the most emotional and sensitive members of the family, and found kindred spirits in one another.

Unlike his brother Paul, Robert hadn’t spent much time with his young cousins. He never lived in Vienna, so they only knew each other from brief visits and letters. Paul and Robert often traveled together and would reconnect on these trips. In a few lines, Robert paints a vivid picture of the noise, fun, and laughter of the Cohen household in Vienna – they knew how to make their own fun even though they had little money – making music, improvising games and entertaining each other. Sadly, only one of Harry’s illustrated weeklies survived.

In Paul’s vacation photos, he included two photos from a May 1931 trip with captions that read “Breakdown #1” and “Breakdown #2”.

I wonder if this was Robert’s car? They went to Herceg Novi and Lovcen National Park in Montenegro. I found a Youtube video of someone driving what was probably a similar route through the park.

As we saw in later letters, Robert remained in England and only saw his family in person again once or twice again in his life.. I share with him the wish that they had been able to be a happy family again.

December 21

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

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

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

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 18

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Today we see two documents from Helene’s nephew Paul Zerzawy’s time after World War I. His university studies had been interrupted by World War I. In the October 16th post, we saw documents from his undergraduate degree. Today, we see the diploma for his law degree from Vienna State University in December of 1920:

Latin translation from Google Translate:

We are the director of the Vienna State University

Alphonsus Dopsch, a professor of philosophy and a professor of public history. John Kelsen, professor of law, professor of law and political affairs, regular politician, ht. dean of the order of lawyers; Charles Gruunberg, a professor of law, professor of law and political affairs, a regular politician, a duly appointed promoter, and a distinguished man

Paulum Zerzawy
(from Bilin in Bohemia)

After legitimate examinations proved that the doctrine of law is commendable in the whole of law, we have conferred the rights and privileges of law and the honors and privileges on the faith of the university, and we have taken care that these letters be signed by the seal of the university.

Vienna, December 24, 1920

---

While Helene’s son Harry had most of Paul Zerzawy’s photos and letters, her daughter Eva had all his official papers. The following document was amongst his transcripts and diplomas, so I was certain that this was another degree or certificate. However, as I was preparing today’s post, I discovered that it isn’t education-related at all — my friend and translator quickly reviewed and we discovered that Paul had won a chess tournament! Yet again, my lack of German led me down the wrong path. Alland is about 12 miles southwest of Vienna.

Herewith is announced that Dr. Paul Zerzawy won the First Prize and achieved the Championship Title in the Second Alland Chess Competition (September 4-18, 1922).

Alland, December 19, 1922.

The committee (signatures and stamp)

December 14

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

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

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

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 10

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Today we see two letters written six years apart from Helene’s friend Paula. During the war, Paula was one of the few friends who visited Helene while she and Vitali were separated from their children. Paula continued to write until at least 1955. As we saw in the July 11th post, mail from Vienna was still being censored, this time by the Allies. As in earlier posts, we see Paula’s letters become less coherent as the years go by. Her sentences often go on for over 150 words, long even by German standards. My translator tried to find natural breaks to make the letters more comprehensible. 

Vienna, 10 December 1946

My dear dear Helene!

Finally I got the dear letter from you and am very sad that you hurt yourself. I hope everything is okay now. My dear Helene, you write if I have already received the package. I have actually gotten two — one small one from France and nothing else yet except those. It will come in time. It always takes awhile. There was a ship strike and that had an effect. In any case, I thank you so much, but I worry that you scrimp and save and maybe that your children have a hard time. Maybe don’t send any more because I couldn’t stand if you were to suffer because of me, because I know how much you love us and you want to give us everything and I thank your dear children for all the things. Dear Helene, I was at the Kultusgemeinde [Jewish religious community in Vienna] again, and through the newspaper I reported to Herr Krell that maybe we could still find out something. I see Vitali so often in my dreams and I see that I believe that he must come soon. I can’t believe that this splendid person wouldn’t exist anymore. Annemie also talks about him so much and it’s so strange that the child was born in the same month as your husband, and he was always so proud of that — do you remember? Everything that she did was good. Dear Helene, I must tell you one sad thing. I was at the doctor and he told me that if my child doesn’t get better food with more fat in it, she will probably only survive for two years. She is growing so quickly that her heart and her lungs cannot keep up. Can you imagine how I feel at the thought of losing my child? I was in Salzburg again and got various things for the child. God should make it so that she does not get sick on me because it is so cold and we have no coal for the winter. Only 200 kilos for the entire winter and my mother has promised that she would give me some of hers.

Yesterday Frau Else was here to visit us and of course we speak about you and she loves the child, gives the little one a pretty red cap - you know how the little one is always dressed beautifully, so if we can keep it together we’ll make it through this ugly time. Dear Helene, you ask what I am doing and what I am living on. I have two rooms and a closet - the closet I have rented to a Jewish boy. He is 27 years old and was in a concentration camp. He is going to America as soon as it is his turn. So sometimes I cook when he brings things. And then I earn something too. He has plenty of money and he pays well. I have fixed up my room so that’s it’s cozy here. I certainly have lost a lot, but in the living room I have managed to keep it together although some things are still broken. However, you know a woman’s hand can sometimes make things look better, but actually everything that was in the basement was stolen, especially my underwear and my clothes. I am so poor with my things and I don’t really have much to wear anymore, but another time will come. The main thing is that when the little one has it, you know I just live for the child. Dear Helene, Else will also write to you and she will go to her sister’s in America and then I will be alone. Yes, I would love to see you again. It was so nice when we were together, such splendid people as you and Vitali, sometimes I think maybe we all will get together in life again. I cannot believe that I will never see you again and your wonderful children. My dear Helene, you write it is a matter of course that you send me packages. No, my dear, first your children have to work to do that and then I have done everything out of love for you and I am just so sorry that you have gotten so few of the packages of all the good things. Helene, dear Helene, I would love to have a picture of you and from your children. The one I have with her tennis racket, you can’t really see very well and if you had one, we could look at you and your children every day. Annemie is sending you a picture of herself of her soon and a letter. I am curious to see when she finishes it. She has clairvoyance like Vitali did. She often says something that is really exactly right. Now, when your letter has arrived, then she says “Oh I see that is from Tante Helen and Irna” and together and the next day it was really so - both letters were there. So she loves her grandmother very much and everything is about the child for her. She wants to spend a few days in Salzburg at Christmas, she gets to go there because she doesn’t have school because they don’t have coal and the school rooms are too cold for the children to be in so she gets to go visit her much beloved grandmother and then she has better food there, because then she can get milk which is not possible in Vienna. Oh, how good it is that you are not in Vienna anymore dear Helene and that you don’t have to go through this bad time here. As much as I would love to have you here, I wouldn’t want you to starve, that would be terrible, and the extreme cold. Yes, Helene, this year you will spend the first Christmas night with your beloved children. I wish with all my heart that it goes very well, that you have a good day, and won’t be so sad. I know and I understand that you really miss Vitali, but look, maybe there will be a miracle that happens and I cannot believe that this dear and good man will not come soon. Herr Krell is doing everything he can to find out something. Dear Helene, I am going to write you an address now which you can probably do more easily in America than I can from here. Write to the organization Hic [probably HIAS] and then you must give them all the exact information you have - that your husband was alive in March 1945 and he got away from Buchenwald in the long marches. At this time he was entirely healthy and that I got another letter for the child’s birthday and he asked for a certain kind of package which I also sent. Dear Helene, your nephew is not doing so badly with money and maybe he as I have done can write everywhere. And I will try to see if my lawyer can help in some way perhaps. He had someone from Buchenwald staying with him back in the day, a fellow understood that he knew someone named Cohen and that he was there when they marched. Helene, I still have hope and I don’t give up, my dearest.

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Paula’s post-war address in Vienna was on Invalidenstrasse, less than a half-mile from Helene and Vitali’s old home on Seidlgasse. The package Paula received from France may have been sent by Lucienne Simier, with whom Helene became close at Ravensbrück — see May 8th post. Paula makes it clear that post-war Vienna is not a desirable place to be.

[Received December 8, 1952]

My dearest Helen!

I thank you for your dear letter. You must have already gotten mine. I see that you are also having problems with your apartment and yes my dearest, it’s about time that you get some peace but all difficulties go away and we just have to go through everything, my dear Helene. Just keep the faith and all the difficult stuff will pass by, as soon as Vitali is with you things will be very different. You will have read what has happened in Prague [Probably referring to November 24, 1952 trial] and of course that will have consequences for us too and it is better that Vitali hasn’t come yet because otherwise he might have to go through difficulties here again like in the year 1940, and he realizes that.

Dear good Helen, you must not give up hope because otherwise you just won’t be able to stick it out and believe and it will all turn out okay. Look how bad we are doing and still we say there has to come an end to this time too.

My dear good one, we all wish you a good Christmas celebration and especially a happy new year and stay healthy and believe it that it cannot last all that much longer and then Vitali will come because he also has a hard time in Turkey and he shouldn’t really be there and he is living under an assumed name and he must always have some fear hoping that nobody finds it out. Thank God now he is doing better and as soon as he can he will go away. Believe it. More I cannot write about this because he does not want anyone to really notice him.

Dear Helene this will pass and then dear God does not let his children fall. For today I will end my writing and I will write to you soon again and I would hope that you will get the letter before Christmas. We all send you greetings and kisses and we wish you good health and that you will get some peace.

Your dear friends kiss and greet you. We think of you often.

Have hope that everything will be okay 

Kisses, Paula

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As we have seen in previous letters, Paula kept Helene’s hopes alive about seeing Vitali again, often asserting that she had been in contact with him. Unfortunately, her optimism was unfounded. In fact, she had seen Vitali in her dreams, but nowhere else.

December 9

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

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

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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.