August 5

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

A letter from Helene to her children, musing on events from long ago.

 Vienna, 5 August 1941 

My dear children! Since I lack your letters, I am not sure if you have gotten all of ours, but I hope that even if you haven’t, you know something about the state of things. One of our acquaintances, hoping they wouldn’t worry about anything, wrote to his parents that everything will be taken care of in Washington. We shall see! [in Italian] The girls [in English] just called me. They have to move on the 11th of this month but they haven’t found another apartment (or rather, closet) yet. Olga wrote to her brother that she cannot send any more packages because she’s hurting for money too and is also not allowed to send things any longer.

We are doing pretty well, just that we really miss your letters. Yesterday we went for a walk to Krieau and from there we went to the Winterhafen [wharf] and then we went to Lusthaus [in Prater park]. I had some strange memories when we approached the Stadlau train station. It was 1914. Paul wrote to me back then that he would be there about 8 o’clock with his company, but he would not be allowed to leave the train station. I got the letter in the afternoon and I was of course there early. I waited a second hour and believed I would have to take my little bagged dinner back home with me when from a military train which had just arrived, a tall bearded soldier who smelled of sweat appeared and he came over to the water pipe where I had wisely posted myself. I was about to ask him if this was the train from Leitmeritz when I realized it was Paul. I remained on the train platform until the train left. When I didn’t see anything more of him or the train, I started to make my way home. It was pitch black and I had no idea which direction I should go. I do have a good sense of direction and I took my chances until I found a street with streetcar tracks, and that let me know that I was on the right path. I heard steps behind me and when I carefully turned around, I saw the contours of a man. I thought it would be better to have him in front of me or next to me rather than behind me, so when he got a little closer, I spoke to him and I asked him the best way to get to Praterstern. I lived in Salzgries at that time. He seemed trustworthy and he was surprised that I was alone and in this area. I explained the reason and he said I could walk along with him for a while. He was going to “Magenschein”, an obscure inn, which I only knew from a couplet. It would be child’s play to get farther after that, but my heart was still pounding. At 1:30am I arrived home. After that, I was not in the area of Stadlau anymore. I did pass by “Magenschein” a few times and when I was at the Gänserhäufel [means goosebumps], or by the old Danube, I could never go there without remembering my adventurous night and taking my hat off to myself for my bravery. I don’t think I could have done it a second time.

The second memory I have is of an excursion made by bicycle by Harry and Paul. I remembered that when I saw the ferry that the two of them had taken when they were coming from Lobau [Vienna flood plain area]. I tried to find the tree where Harry had put to the test who would win: his skull or the tree. I didn’t find it, the tree I mean. Probably the tree didn’t survive the concussion it got from that. It’s a good thing I wasn’t with them that time, but I remembered that story. Do you remember it? When a person’s main activity is directing their thoughts to wandering into the past and the future in order to escape the present, episodes that one would think were long forgotten come into memory.

I hope that we will be able to get good news from you soon and that our papers are already on a desk in Washington waiting to be sent off.

Everl should write to me about what she knows about Harry since I don’t hear anything from him, just like last year. Also, I’d like to hear about Paul and all the others. Do you ever hear anything from Robert?

I kiss you and I ask you to keep my love,
Helen

---

In today’s letter, Helene describes a similar walk down memory lane to the one she talked about in the June 4 post.

Since I did not have Paul’s World War I letters translated from the old German script until recently, this letter was the first inkling I had of how close Helene was to her nephew throughout their lives. In 1914, Helene would have been 27 years old and Paul would have been 19. This letter also confirmed for me that Helene was in Vienna as early as 1914. How wonderful that she would drop everything and make her way through the dark streets of Vienna just to be able to see her nephew for a few minutes at the train station as his unit made a brief stop.

Her second memory also lets us know that Paul spent a lot of time with the family. Although he was almost 20 years older than his young cousin Harry, he happily joined him on a bicycle ride – probably in the early 1930s.

In many letters we’ve seen, Helene recalls happy memories from the past, rather than dwelling on the unpleasant present. In today’s letter she addresses that tendency explicitly. 

July 29

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

A letter from Helene in Vienna to her children in San Francisco.

 Vienna, 29 July 1940

My dear children! When I write to you, it reminds me of my childhood, a game that I found very special:, if you have Thaler, buy something; don’t say yes, don’t say no, don’t jiggle, don’t shake, don’t shake, don’t say it’s not black or white. Just say yes to everything. Saying “yes” to everyone was never my weakness. There is no point in jiggling around, and in black and white, I just want to know that you’re okay and that you’re healthy and content. All of this you may assume for us, just that the lack of mail is a concern and that the possibilities of the reason for this are so many that it’s hard to know which version of the explanation one should decide on. You can’t shake the dice with this game. You just have to be calm; otherwise, you’ll lose.

Yesterday Papa and I went for a walk and we went to the Weißgerberlände [a street along the Danube near their apartment]. Since you’ve been gone, I have not visited this part of town. We noticed a house there that neither of us had ever noticed before, even though we’ve gone by there so many times. If it didn’t have the year of the building on it, we would have thought it was much newer construction. What we really noticed about the house is that the front was filled with bas reliefs, they were almost life sized. We used to go by such things and not even give it any thought. Whatever path we take, I just see you - every square, every street, every house reminds me of our walks together. In Stadtpark, I see you as small children; near the Prater Park, I see you as a little older youth, and in the city I have this picture of you in more recent times. This is a driving force that takes me there nearly every day. I stand there by every shoe store, not because I really want to buy a pair, but in memory of Eva, and in memory of Harry in photo shop windows. This kind of activity has become a very typical one for me. Sometimes I catch myself looking around for you if you’re maybe just catching up to me and at which picture window did you stop to look? With these crazy ideas, I spend my days. Recently I saw an illustrated newspaper that is probably more interesting to Eva. There I saw pictures of nurses who were taking care of soldiers. They were medical students who before they are allowed to begin their studies have to spend several months doing nursing duty and they must prove that they’ve done that. By the way, have you heard anything from Dr. Grete W? Eva, are you perhaps in touch with her and have you heard anything from Erni and Maxi? Their mother is someone I used to see every now and then, but I don’t know if they’re still here or maybe they moved somewhere else. We have only heard news from our Turkish relatives a couple of times since you’ve been over there. Our situation does not seem to interest them much if at all. Are you in correspondence with them? I would like to send you picture postcards of your favorite mosque and the bazaar. Since there is this interruption in postal service, I apparently am out of the picture as to what your interests are. I find it “funny” when Eva ends a letter with the excuse that she must wake the baby to go take a walk. Is that your idea or is that the mother’s idea? I really don’t think it’s a good idea to wake such a small child. Isn’t it more important for them to sleep than to take a walk? Maybe a little later and then you can maybe walk later and a little longer. What is Paul doing besides not writing to me and Robert? Have you heard anything from him? This letter will not go off until tomorrow morning. Maybe by then I will have received a letter from you. In this hope and expectation, I send my dearest kisses

Helen

---

I could not find the game Helene describes in a brief search, but we get the idea. It perfectly describes her helplessness and uncertainty. There is nothing she can do or say to change an impossible situation.

Helene walks through the streets of Vienna and sees nothing but ghosts of the past – her children at all ages – as children playing in the park and as teenagers interested in more worldly activities like fashion and photography. Friends are disappearing from Vienna, often without a word. It must have been very disconcerting and disorienting. Vitali’s Turkish relatives had their own challenges so could not be blamed for their perceived lack of interest, although Helene doesn’t understand that.

As I mentioned in an early post, at the end of my grandmother’s life she lost much of her memory — whether from Alzheimer’s, which did not have a name at the time, or from self-preservation to protect her from thinking about the horrors she had experienced. Her brain took her to pre-World War II Vienna, the happiest time in her life. When I visited her in the assisted living facility a few months before she died, she greeted me as a friend or stranger — she had no idea who I was. She asked if I knew her children, and pointed to a place seen only by her, where they were playing in the park. When I read this letter for the first time, I realized that this memory was her “happy place” and that it had kept her going during the many stressful times in her life.

The photo below shows the children at a bit younger than Helene describes as they walk past the shops of Vienna. Helene is on the left between Harry and Eva. I do not know the woman on the right.

June 30

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Today we have a picture postcard in German and English from (and of) Helene’s nephew Robert Zerzawy with a note in pencil that it was received on June 30, 1963.

This is not Mr. Dean Rusk; rather, it is your nephew on one of his missions to Germany. Touchwood, I have a little slimmed since then. 

Love, Robert

---

A few comments:

The photo credit is by the airline – perhaps they took photos like they do these days on cruises and Disneyland rides?

The photo at Wikipedia entry for Dean Rusk does indeed show a resemblance.

In the 1960s, Robert worked for Bayer. Presumably this photo was taken on a business trip to Germany as he was preparing for the opening of the London sales office:

When I began this project, I thought of brothers Paul and Robert Zerzawy as distant cousins who were tangentially related to my family’s story. As we have seen, Paul was a major presence in my grandmother’s and her children’s lives. Robert is also important, but I have far less evidence. In March, we saw a few letters from him from the 1960s as well as a few letters to him from Helene from 1945-1046 in Istanbul – he appears to be the first relative she was able to reach. Helene mentions his sensitive nature and how life might be particularly difficult for him. In Robert’s letters he mentions emotions, while letters from his brother Paul, who was trained as an attorney, are usually all business – as a soldier in World War I, trying to make sure that family members at home have all they need and that Robert is taking care of business in his absence; and during World War II, emigrating and trying to help Helene, Vitali and their children emigrate as well. Although Robert also intended to emigrate from England to San Francisco during or after the war, for some reason that never happened, and he was separated from his family for the rest of his life.

Robert seems to have had a sensitive artist’s temperament. Although he tried to follow in Paul’s footsteps and study law, from the WWI letters it appears his heart wasn’t in it. Below is a photo of Robert that was probably taken during WWI that shows him sketching his grandmother while his sisters watch in the background. At this point his father and older brothers Robert and Erich are away at war (Erich probably in a POW camp in Siberia at this point), so young Robert was the man of the house. He had lost both his mother and step-mother by the time he was 11.

Below is a self-portrait Robert drew dated September 16, 1921, when he would have been 22 years old — a portrait of the artist as a young man.

June 29

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Today we have a translation of a newspaper article about my grandfather, Haim (Vitali) Cohen, that appeared on pages 5-6 of the June 28, 1934 issue of the Vienna Neue Freie Presse.

The Magic Shop.

There are no magic links and no miraculous tickets for sale in this shop - none of those little things which keep “a whole party” amused. There is nothing but – paper. A simple stationer’s shop in the center of the city is the place, where ‘miraculous things” do occur. It has happened, several times already, that a buyer would hand the stationer his fountain pen in order to get it repaired – and that, while he was waiting for it, he would, quite casually, be told some details about his life, past, present and future. For some quite unaccountable ideas and images had come into the mind of the cheerful little man dealing with the fountain pens – images and ideas which he himself paid no attention to at first; until they became so powerful that they forced their way and forced him to splutter them out. And it turned out that those were the private lives of his customers which he now was, quite truthfully, describing!

This paper-dealer, being an oriental and a Turk, is not quite inaccessible to mystic tendencies; yet on the other hand, having formerly been an architect and engineer, he cannot help considering himself a cool rationalist. His first reaction to these events were a kind of shame and embarrassment; and he tried not to listen to the voice within himself. Yet when, the next time, people again came to have their fountain pens mended, the vague characters which they scribbled in order to try them out again gave reason for the Turk seeing and telling about images and impressions.

CUSTOMERS HANDS ARE PAINTED RED

Mr. C., the clairvoyant in spite of himself, now happened to visit the lecture of a chirologist - an event which occurred about a year ago - who, with the help of various photographs and plates, revealed the secrets of palm reading. “Why, that’s as easy as playing a child’s game,” thought Mr. C.; and when, on the following morning, a customer entered the shop he simply smeared his palms with red ink - much to the horror of the good man - and pressed the red palm down on a sheet of white paper; he then examined the portrait of the hand. Fates appeared before is mind’s eye, images whirled through his brain, and, full of eagerness, he told the customer what he saw. This was repeated several times; and the customers, amazed, could but corroborate the accuracy of his “visions.”

Within his inmost heart, C. admitted that he actually had no idea of palm reading; and that he only spoke out of intuition. Yet he got all the more interested in the network of lines which appeared different in every hand; and he took imprints of the hands of his relatives, friends, and customers with great eagerness. His predictions and prognoses became more and more daring, and more and more sure; until, one day, he told a rather taciturn fellow, who was out for acquiring some wrapping-paper, some of the most intimate things about his whole life. The buyer turned out to be one of the best-known chirologists in England, who on his turn, amused himself by proving that the prophet had not the slightest ideas of any questions of palm reading. Yet he could not deny that the things he had said were true. Quite the contrary: he wrote, underneath the imprint of his own hand: “Well roared, lion!” and encouraged Mr. C in developing his faculties.

2200 PAIRS OF HANDS WITHIN A YEAR.

C. has taken the advice. It is not much longer than a year since his customer’s private affairs first forced their way into his mind - and he already owns 2200 well-ordered imprints of pairs of hands. He no longer has to beg people to let them take the imprints of their palms: quite the contrary, there are many who beg him to look at them. But his sixth sense is not well disposed toward all callers; and he is quite capable of being disagreeable in some cases. Yet he always has time for those who really are in need of help. And he knows to tell, dramatically, of the way in which people can be spurred to higher efforts by the very intensity of their despair. It yet does occur, however, that, leaning in front of his shop in the sunshine, he suddenly will rush up to some guileless passer-by, draw him into his shop, and then, in a small back-room, will tell him the most important and urgent matters about himself; until the surprised visitor will feel almost faint with surprise and emotion.

This small back room looks queer enough. The skeptical, paper-selling and prophetic Turk has had the blue walls painted with symbols of the zodiac; which still make a mystic impression on innocent minds. There is a wash-basin which serves the practical purpose of having the clients wash the color off their hands; for C. no longer uses stamp colors, which can only be removed with the help of some chemical ingredients; but some color that comes off quite easily. He shows the unique case of a college teacher, whose right palm is imprinted in the brown color which actually was used on it, while the left- being painted with exactly the same material - has come off green. C. Is not quite certain of an explanation for this phenomenon; he supposes some abnormal polarization of the emanation of the hands; or the consequences of a cure of injections which the college professor took, and whose poisons, being now part of the skin, transformed the color as it touched it for chemical reasons.

THE SECRET OF THE WOODEN BOX.

And then there is a mysterious small wooden box, which C. hands to every visitor, requesting him to place each hand on it, alternately. I do it just to please him, I spread my hand over the little box, and, after a few minutes, I feel a breath of cool air on my palm. I now change the position of the hands and I feel —- nothing at all. Mr. C. begs me to put my observations down in a book, which is already filled with notes written by my predecessors. One has felt warmth in the right hand, and, on the left, a feeling of having touched upon an electric current. The other one felt nothing at all in his right hand, but a violent twitching in — the next when he held the left hand above the box. And what is there in the box? I open it, and find nothing but a small, withered root, which is oddly ill-shaped but, on looking at it more closely, one discovers that it is the likeness of a bearded man in a dancing position. “Why yes, it’s a mandrake,” the ever- cheerful miracle man will answer to my questioning look.

The mandragora, the famous magic plant of olden days! Oval leaves have grown from it, and berries which all served magic purposes. Arabs, to this day, eat these berries in order to go to sleep; but as aphrodisiac effect also is ascribed to them. Love-potions were distilled from them in antiquity. The leaves were placed on open wounds in order to soothe the pain; and the root was uses as anesthetic for operations. If the fleshy, beet-like root is dried, it assumes, in many cases, the oddest and most uncanny shapes; and, with a little good will, one may see the likelihood to a human form. It is a small wonder that miraculous powers were ascribed to them. They were supposed to bring luck and money, and they were being secretly tended and kept like human beings.

MANDRAKES FOR SALE.

These products of the Mediterranean regions had, in our time, been forgotten. An Austrian ex- serviceman, Colonel Franz Koeppl, was the first again to take interest and to study these rare objects; and, in the course of many years, he acquired 900 of them - all shapes and sizes. A laic might take it for granted that, owning so many talismans, this man must be loaded down with luck and riches. But this point does not seem to be quite clear; the Colonel certainly has handed his collection to Mr. C. for the purpose of selling it; for he says that it is to every mandrake that will bring luck to every man; it takes a clairvoyant to discover the root which fits one. “I originally thought that all this talk about the mandrakes was nothing but a bit of humbug,” says Mr. C. “But there remains the strange fact that the owners so often come to see me, and will assure that they are gaining new strength by the possession of this queer plant - and, consequently, new successes. I daresay it is all imagination - but the favorable effect does remain the main thing.”

---

This newspaper article was among the documents Vitali had translated into English in the hopes of continuing his occupation when he and Helene finally made it to America. We saw translations of testimonials in the May 22 post. We saw a far less complimentary article from 1939 in the April 7 post. What a difference a few years made.

When I read this article, for the first time I had a sense of who my grandfather was. He seems to have been a brilliant, charismatic, confident, insatiably curious, and intuitive man who was open to unusual and unpopular ways of thinking. Palm reading piqued his curiosity after attending a lecture in 1933, and by 1934 he was sharing his insights with anyone who would listen. In other posts, I describe my own journey to get to know my grandfather – first, having my palm read and then getting trained in hand analysis. In my year-long training with Richard Unger, I was required to read 100 hands, which was a daunting task for me. In the same amount of time, my grandfather had looked at more than 2200 pairs of hands!

Although Eva and Harry never told us about their father’s occupation, we have a wonderful photo of him taking handprints of the entire family. My archivist colorized this photo beautifully. You can see Eva and Harry looking on with great interest while Vitali rolls ink on Helene’s hand to take a print. Pages with handprints are strewn on the table.

---

In the photo below, you can see Vitali at work with all the tools of his trade: an inked handprint, a pendulum, mandrake root and a few other things I can’t identify.

June 17

I am often reminded as I look at the materials in my archive that there is nothing new under the sun. In previous posts we have seen that family members shared letters and photos in much the same way as we do today, only the process took a lot longer. Without the internet, email, Instagram, etc., people were left to read and pass on letters by mail. They created photo postcards (see June 11 post) to show people living far away what they looked like.

Today, we see 7-1/2 year old Harry’s smallpox immunization record from 1931 in Vienna. Interesting to see this as countries today grapple with how their citizens can prove that they have been vaccinated against COVID-19.

---

Re-vaccination Certificate

Name: Harry Cohen   Age: 7-1/2 years
Address: 3 Seidlgasse 14           Date: 8 June 1931

Vaccinated again.

The revaccination showed at the vaccination sites:

1.     No inflamation
2.     Inflammatory nodules
3.     Changed, but noticeable vaccination bubbles
4.     formed protective smallpox as with the primary vaccination
5.     Strong irritation

(The applicable is to be underlined.)

Vienna, 17 June 1931

Dr. Fritz Schenk 

June 15

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Domestic scenes – the life they left behind

These two photographs of Helene’s nephew Paul Zerzawy’s apartment are dated June 15, 1938. They are a nice window into his homelife in Vienna. I wonder whether he took these photos because he knew he’d be leaving Europe and wanted to have a keepsake of his old life.

Perhaps the following photo was taken at the same time for the same reason.

The entire Zerzawy family enjoyed music. Below is a photo of Paul’s brother Robert with their father and step-mother in the 1930s.

Photos from the 1930s of Eva and Harry show them in their apartment on Seidlgasse in Vienna. Snapshots of happier, more carefree times.

Harry on a swing:

Harry and Eva in fancy dress:

Eva busy at the sewing machine

A portrait of young Harry which he doodled on, adding a mustache and monocle as well as other details.

Eva walking through the park

Harry and Eva on the piano. The photo of Eva is very dim but shows clearly the drawing of Helene which appears in other photos we saw in an earlier post.

Eva and Harry brought the portrait with them when they came to San Francisco in 1939.

Music played a central part in everyone’s lives – something we know from Helene’s many musical references in her letters and because she named her daughter after a Wagnerian heroine. Happily, music knows no boundaries and the family could enjoy music in their new home as well as their old. Nearly everyone in the family played piano, some better than others. This was a lifesaver for Paul Zerzawy — he was unable to practice law when he came to America, but was able to make at least some money in San Francisco by teaching piano and accompanying singers.

Eva loved music but was never a musician, for many years having season tickets to the opera and symphony in San Francisco. Harry had perfect pitch. He never learned to read music but could imitate anything he heard. He entertained himself and others, often spending hours each day playing piano.

Below is a photo of Eva in front of her piano in San Francisco - if I recall, she inherited it from Helene’s cousin Bertha with whom Eva lived while she finished high school. When my husband and I moved back to San Francisco several years ago, we had no room for the piano and had to give it away. That was the one possession that was difficult to part with and brought me to tears.

Eva’s piano leaving our lives forever.

Below is a photo of Harry playing piano at home and at my wedding.

June 14

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Tennis

My mother loved playing tennis. When I was young, she tried in vain to get me excited about the game, having me take tennis lessons at the courts in Golden Gate Park. She became a regular there, playing every week and making many friends.

About 20 years ago I was in England and went to Hampton Court. There, I was surprised to learn that Henry the VIII loved tennis and saw the court he played on.

According to Wikipedia the rules of modern tennis were created in England in the late 19th Century. In looking through family photos, I see that family members enjoyed the game dating at least to the early 20th century, so they were playing a relatively “new” game.

The above photo was probably taken in 1908 or earlier. There is a note on the back mentioning Robert Zerzawy. I think he is the young boy in the cap holding the ball and facing the camera. The photo of the four children below would be siblings Paul, Erich, Klara, and Robert. Likely taken in or near Brüx in Bohemia (German name for Most in the Czech Republic).

---

 Probably 1937 or 1938 – Eva and Harry playing doubles in Vienna:

---

1938 – Paul Zerzawy notes the date of June 16, 1938 on the back and that it was taken at the Gartenbauplätz in Vienna. A friend named Walter Reif is hitting the ball in the foreground. The only reference I could find to Gartenbauplätz was about it being the site for ice hockey tournaments in the early 1930s.

---

1941 – Mission High School in San Francisco – we saw this photo of Eva and Harry from February of 1941 in a previous post.

---

Probably the late 1970s – Golden Gate Park Tennis Club at a Halloween event. Eva taking a cigarette break, dressed as a gypsy. My mother “made” similar costumes for me once or twice for Halloween. I always thought she did that because it was a cheap and easy way to dress up, but more recently I’ve wondered whether it was a silent nod to her father the palm reader.

June 11

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships. 

Postcards

Today’s postcard from June 11, 1972 got me thinking about vacation postcards in general, and then about the importance of postcards in the first half of the 20th Century. Below are several postcards written by my mother, my cousins, and me from summer vacations in 1966, 1969 and 1972. It’s lovely that Helene saved and valued these notes.

---

---

I have quite a few postcards in my family papers, many dating from the early 20th Century. Some are generic postcards of a town or landmark. But there are also many that are postcards with photos of family members – either professional studio portraits or amateur shots. The latter were known as “Real photo postcards” (RPPC) if they were made using a special camera and paper beginning in the early 1900s. I’m not sure whether that’s the case for the photos in my possession.

Below is a postcard of the Stubenring in Vienna on which my grandmother drew an arrow and pointed to her shop – the stationery shop where she sold paper goods and repaired fountain pens, and in the 1930s where Vitali had his metaphysical practice.

Below is a photo postcard from a class trip to Italy. Harry is in the front row, third from the right.

May 22

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

First page of HSM (Vitali) Cohen’s “business card” - title is “Abandon Not Hope - Turn to Me!”

In a few previous posts, I’ve written about Helene’s husband Vitali’s occupation in Vienna. Although my mother Eva never talked about her father’s metaphysical endeavors, she spoke of how many people sought his advice. I never had a clue what form that advice took until my cousin discovered the photo of Vitali at work when we were young adults. My mother merely told me that many people, including some famous and/or important, came to Vitali for assistance. A few prominent people gave testimonials, and in those cases the people were identified. All others were identified by their initials and sometimes their profession.

Both Harry and Eva had copies of the translation of testimonials in their possession. Many of them were included in the green printed “business card” seen above.

The translation of the testimonials, has the same title as the original brochure: “Abandon Not Hope - Turn to Me!” It must have been translated before Eva and Harry left for America in October 1939. Vitali planned to be able to pursue the same work after arriving in San Francisco and hoped these testimonials would help his cause, both in getting a visa to come to America and in convincing people of his talents.

Cover page of translation of testimonials by people who sought Vitali’s advice.

The following are some of the testimonials from this document. As I was writing today’s post, I finally understood the numbers on the first page – between March 2, 1933 and August 24, 1939, Vitali had consulted with 3,132 different clients and given 5,584 individual consultations. The majority of testimonials simply state that what Vitali predicted came true or that he read their characters uncannily accurately. Others go into great detail. Having had a similar experience when I decided to get a hand analysis to better understand my grandfather’s vocation, I understand the surprise and fascination of having a complete stranger seemingly see into your soul in a way no one had ever done before. Vitali seems to have gone further in his readings and consultations, including diagnosing medical issues. There is a whole field of medical literature on the use of hand analysis in medicine.      

·       I admire your gift of prediction, and am hoping for a happy future for you, as well as for myself. I should like to thank you for the accurate data that you have given me.  Dr. K.R.

·       You have, on the strength of the lines in my hand, read my character and certain important moments of my life with an accuracy of 100%.  

·       You have described some details of my life - which could not possibly have been known to you beforehand - with great accuracy.   R.G., President of the Metaphysical Society of Vienna

·       This is a case where one must stop and call out in astonishment: “There are more things in heaven and earth, than are dreamt of in our philosophy.” You have, from my hands, read events of incisive importance, which could not possibly have been known to you in advance; and you have, by this, given me the impression that you dispose over the mysteries of intuition.  

·       “Well roared lion.!” You have an accurate grasp of that mainspring of our intellectual activity, direct to some purpose, which lies within our subconscious mind.

·       I am genuinely surprised. 

·       I have, today, seen you for the very first time in my life; and it was a mere accident, your offering to take an imprint of my palm. You have, on this occasion, said things to me about both the past and the present which are so strikingly true, that I greatly hope that the things which you told me about my future will also come true.

·       I was simply speechless by the truth of everything you told me.  

·       I understand nothing of those matters, and my attitude towards your gifts hence is a skeptical one; I was, nonetheless, amazed about your diagnosis.  

·       It is interesting to see, with which lucidity you read a person’s character, as well as that which he has lived through, from the lines in his hands.  O.H. Inspector

·       You cannot even know how true are the things which you have told me!   Professor M.H.

·       You have looked into my soul’s most secret corners in a manner which is perfectly amazing! I hope that your advice will be valuable to me for my future life, and I shall keep you informed for purposes of checking up on your predictions.  

·       You are an uncanny person, Mr. Cohen - with those unerring x-ray eyes of yours - I feel myself sitting naked before you. 

·       You are a man who should be taken perfectly seriously.  

·       You are a fabulous psychologist and clairvoyant. I enjoy my visits to you, for you can give me consolation and courage.  July 23, 1934. 

·       You have a grandiose intuition which is perfectly amazing; it is not the ordinary type of clairvoyance; it is more; it is seeing.  

·      Sub specie aeternitatis
The deeper I am looking into thee, blue sky,
The nearer dost thou still appear to me;
The stronger, God, I think Thee to the end,
The pitifuller do I fall before Thee….
From my volume of poems To Mr. Cohen, with grateful admiration.  Alfred Werner.

·       “Bend down to greatness! For the very greatest
who look down placidly on our storms
they do not soar, as angels and as blessed;
they bend themselves to far-off courses
of even deeper life,
to higher greatness, which they do but dream,
in that which is unmeasured, unexplored and high.”
From my poem: Gratitude to Greatness
To you, Mr. Cohen, in remembrance of a highly interesting hour of spirits
Fred Hernfeld [later known as Alfred Farau]

·       You have predicted a dental abscess for a patient of mine, who never had had anything serious the matter with his teeth, a few weeks beforehand. This abscess has now been discovered by way of an x-ray being taken; it is a highly important center of infection.  Dr. R.W.

·       You have, by intuition, told me characteristic traits as well as facts of my own and my parents’ past; this shows your extraordinary gifts of clairvoyance; and I find you, also in other respects, a very interesting man.  Dr. L.D.

·       You draw away a dark curtain, and one gets a glimpse of a strange world - one’s own.  Dr. M.B.

·       I have, repeatedly, taken the opportunity of convincing myself of your gift as a clairvoyant; but you really are filled with human kindness and philosophical peace too; and this makes your phenomenal capacity of giving advice to the questioning human fellow-being such a boon. July 20, 1934

·       I came to you, on August 5, 1933, to ask you for your advice about a certain matter; I asked you, besides, whether you could not help my boy, eleven years old, who had been coughing terribly all the time since 1931; a thing which keeps him back in his schoolwork and is a disturbance to his surroundings. You refused my request at first, saying that you were not a physician. You advised me, at the same time, to consult a specialist. It was but after I told you that I had done everything possible, but without success, that I came to you, with my son, on August 7, 1933.  After having taken an imprint of his hand you said, in your smiling way: “Now look here: you are not allowed to cough anymore; do you hear?” to the boy. It is a fact that ever since that day, and up to now - June 10, 1936 - that is to say through three years, the boy has no longer been coughing, much to the surprise of the physicians in charge of his case. I am very happy, and very grateful for the help you have given me. August 5, 1933/June 10, 1936

·       He who knows you need never despair.                   June 7, 1936  

·       My dear Mr. Cohen, I want to write and thank you for your well-meant advice, and I am, at the same time, taking the liberty of replying to it. I write to you with all my heart. Just imagine that I am much better, physically. I often feel that you must have prayed God for me, or have done something else for my sake - and that this is the reason for which my condition has changed so much during the last time. Do you know, my dear Mr. Cohen, that I think of you almost every hour of my life. Whatever I start doing, I think within myself, is that a thing that I am permitted to do? What would Mr. Cohen, the physician of my soul, have to say about it? I always see you before me in my mind’s eye; you are with me wherever I go. I shall be grateful through all my life to Mrs. V. for having taken me to you. I pray to God that He may protect you from all blows of destiny, and that there shall be nothing but sunshine in your life. That is the wish that your grateful Mary feels for you. When I shall come to Vienna again, my first errand will be to come to you. You have great power over me; I constantly have the feeling that you are near me. If you will permit, I shall have much to tell you about. I have, of late, had a good appetite and been capable of enjoying everything again. All that which is within wants to get reconciled to God and men again. I believe that I owe my wonderful recovery to you.    November 12, 1933

·       I have, ever since the mandrake is in my possession, slept deeply through the entire night; a thing which had not occurred for almost a year; for the reason of the worries waking me up again and again.             April 11, 1936/April 16, 1936

·       Two specialists wanted my wife to undergo an operation in her belly; I was terribly frightened of it, as doctors said the case was a very grave one. I went to see you, and, without having seen my wife, you told me that the operation would be unnecessary, after having asked me for a few dates. I have since sent my wife to yet another specialist, who has cured her without the operation. If it had not been for you, my wife would have been operated on the next day (i.e. July 10, 1935). After a fortnight’s treatment she has since recuperated without the operation; and she is feeling very well to this day.                    November 11, 1935/November 14   

·       On the point of leaving Europe, I should like to send you a word of grateful memory and thanks for the wise advice you have given me to take with me on my new path - to start out on a new life. Greetings! June 21, 1935, Trieste.       

·       Having no job and being, consequently, very depressed, I went to see you at 5 o’clock this afternoon. I had lost all hope of finding a chance to earn in the course of the summer. You consoled me and said, literally: “It’ll be all right as time goes on; why don’t you spit out all your ill luck?!” Involuntarily, I acted accordingly, and lo! half an hour later, walking on the street, I ran into a manager whom I had not met until then, and who happened to be walking with a friend of mine; he gave me a contract with an unexpectedly high salary!         July 18, 1935.

·       I felt so unhappy during the night from January 29 to January 30 that I wanted to blow out the gas; just so I had to live no longer. Then I remembered that I won a mandrake - I took it into my hands - my weariness of living was over at this very moment. Then again in the night from February 18 to February 19, I could not go to sleep with exhaustion; I again took hold of the mandrake - I hardly had felt it in my hand when I went off to sleep. Again my little mandrake has helped me! February 19, 1937.            

May 19

Today we continue our look through Eva’s Poesiealbum which we began in yesterday’s post. I assume that every inscription was a familiar quotation and have included the author when I was able to find it. These works of art put to shame the scrawls I made in friends’ autograph books and yearbooks when I was in school.

[by Otto von Leixner]

Do not judge man’s worth
Quickly after a brief time.
Above there are moving waves,
But the pearl lies at the bottom.

In friendly memory of
Friedl Schätter

Vienna May ‘34

---

Should someone do something nice for you,
Look upon him kindly!
And give him a kind good word –
Because that is easily done

In friendly memory of your classmate
Edith Wurth

Vienna, 16 May 1934

---

In friendly memory
of
Lina Deutsch
20 June 1934

---

6 May 1934

To have understanding of somebody’s sorrow,
To take pity, to be mild with every mistake,
This is how in these times
You recognize the chosen soul
      (M.E.E.)

In memory of
Susi Teraunten

---

Clever was the man who
Created the first record book
And remembered his friends.
Because if they are in need,
as so often happens, if they disappear,
so at least you can find them again in your family book.

In friendly memory of your classmate
Stephanie Marchart

 Vienna, 30 April 1934

This post makes reference to the German friendship book, the precursor to the Poesiealbum.

---

With many share your joys,
With all share your happiness and jokes.
With only a few noble people, share your sorrows,
Only with chosen people share your heart.
(Salis)

In friendly memory
Your classmate
Eva Ried

I found a slightly different version of this saying, which translates as:

Share your joys with many,
With all cheerfulness and joke,
With a few noble ones your sorrows
And elect only your heart.
by Johann Gaudenz von Salis-Seewis

---

To be content is a great art
To appear content is just empty smoke
To become content is a great joy
To remain content is a masterwork

In friendly memory,
Christl Eichinger

14 June 1934

[German proverb]

---

Dreams are not deeds
And without work
You cannot achieve anything!

Your classmate,
Gerthe Riegler

Vienna, 30 June 1934

---

Be always happy and in a good mood,
No sorrow should cloud your heart
Joy should always accompany you
Never should worries and pain meet you.

In friendly memory,
Imgard Mohr

27 June 1934

May 18

Eva’s Poesiealbum

cover of Eva’s Poesiealbum

Today’s and tomorrow’s posts are devoted to an object from my mother’s childhood – her Poesiealbum – an autograph/friendship book. I didn’t know what it was called until Amei Papitto recently translated its contents. The book has a simple red suede cover and measures 6-1/2x9-1/2 inches.

The first time I saw an example of someone else’s album was a few years ago when I read Leslie Maitland’s Crossing the Borders of Time: A True Story of War, Exile, and Love Reclaimed.

The autograph books and yearbooks of my childhood pale in comparison to this album – it appears that each person borrowed it for a few days, chose a page at random, carefully wrote in beautiful calligraphy, and often drew or painted lovely pictures. I am in awe of their talent. The words usually are not original or personal, quoting a poem or literature. The entries were done between 1931 and 1934, when Eva and her friends would have been 10-13 years old. There are 18 entries, one from Harry, two from teachers, and the rest from classmates.

Several of the children chose bittersweet, nostalgic poems. All the more touching given what was about to happen in Europe just a few years later. Who knows what happened to these girls? 

Once I had a name for this object, I was able to find websites that discuss history of the Poesiealbum and include verses that were often used.

The following are a few album entries.

---

This book is dedicated to friendly remembrances, and shows you the names of those who wish you luck and this includes your teacher

Gina Mayer
1931

---

[from a poem by Marie Calm, pseudonym for Marie Ruhland ]

If you want to be happy
in life, make other people happy
Because the joy that we give comes back into our own heart!

With friendly memories!
Nelly Kangik

Vienna, on 9.11.32

This 19th century poem continued to be used (continues still?) long after it appeared in my mother’s book.

---

[From a poem by German poet Cäsar Flaischlen from Heimat und Welt]

So: to live in beauty…
To be clear and quiet in oneself and all things around
To be clearly visible and open..
One with itself and with the world..
To be allowed to work and not to have to work..
I always think: 
This is how life should be that we humans create on this earth..

In remembrance of your first school years!

Auguste Müller

May 1931

These are not carefree verses – it’s hard to imagine my 10-year old self appreciating the sentiments of this poem.

---

This entry appears to be from Eva’s Latin teacher.

Carry on and be strong! God will provide an end to these things as well.

Dr. Helene Miltner

A retired classics professor friend explained to me that the first part ("Perfer et obdura") is from Ovid, Amores III.xi and the second ("dabit deus his quoque finem") is from Vergil, the Aeneid, I.  She said: “I can understand blending the two; Ovid's follow-up line is about suffering making it all worth it in the end…  not exactly uplifting!” So Eva’s teacher chose to inject hope for the future.

---

Blessed is the heavenly tie of friendship,
Sympathy, souls are sad with other souls;
The tear lets the friend know how the friend feels
And an eye that looks into the other’s eye,
Most precious it is to be jubilant when the friend is jubilant
To cry with him when he cries.
(Schiller)

In friendly remembrance of your classmate
Traute Yarwitsh

 Vienna, 10 March 1932

---

 I could not find the original source for this, but assume it is a quote Eva and her friends knew.

Love truth, hate lies
Love the good
Hate anything bad
Truth and willpower
Will help you be victorious!

In remembrance of your classmate
Bella Nizkoletti

---

In remembrance of your brother Harry

Even her brother was included in the book – I don’t know if he was responsible for the beautiful marbling of the paper - there are no other pages like this.

---

More tomorrow….

May 16

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Today we have a letter from soldier Harry Lowell at Fort Francis E. Warren in Wyoming to his cousin Paul Zerzawy in San Francisco.

May 16, 1943

Dear Paul,

Well, I know you couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw my handwriting on the envelope – but here I am writing you a letter so soon. You have probably read the letters I wrote to Hilda & Tillie and you have therefore an idea of what I am doing, etc. But this letter will contain facts you might be interested in – opinions which would be misinterpreted by the folks. I know you’ll understand.

As I said before I like it here very much, indeed. I know that if you were in my place, you too, would enjoy the happy fellowship and good spirit that prevails amongst us. Unfortunately very many of the soldiers cannot get used to the fact that there is a war going on and that they are in the army to be fighters, not playboys. We really are fed the best food, and plenty of it, but still the majority groans and squawks because they had beans twice in a row and couldn’t get more than two pork chops. They scoff at scrambled eggs for breakfast, and so on. I get pretty disgusted at times to listen to their unreasonable complaints. If they’d only use their thinking apparatus and be thankful for what they had! (And to think that we all say grace before meals!)

I lost quite a bit of respect for my second lieutenants the other day on parade grounds. Our company was to review before the commanders of the day; the privates were standing in formation and all officers and noncommissioned officers were commanded to come before the inspecting commanders. It’s unbelievable, but – none of the ten second l’s knew what they were supposed to do. I was standing in the first line of the company and had, so to speak, a ringside seat to what was going on. The lieutenants took one step forward, looked to the left and right to see what the others were about to do, finally formed a line, and marched (entirely out of step) toward the big shots. We, in the front line, had a hard time keeping from laughing out loud. These lieutenants were the ones that get excited when someone gets out of step – our teachers! (I know that any high school R.O.T.C. boy could have put them to shame. I remember how we reviewed at Mission.) There is a shortage of officers and the army is glad to get hold of these men who are well-schooled and of good reasoning. The officers’ candidates school fails to teach efficiently in the short time they are given. Just wait until I get to become an officer!

To round out my criticism I must add to the aforementioned facts that there is too much wasting of valuable time and money going on. That’s all right now.

I haven’t mentioned yet that every soldier is furnished with a complete wardrobe – from sox to overshoes; there’s nothing we lack. For further details write for a catalog.

How are you getting along with your pupils? The Lowell Loan Co. [cute graphic] is still in existence.

If you have any questions, ask them and I’ll try to answer them.

I am enclosing a picture of myself. (Purty, ain’t it?)

Well, so long!
Harry

P.S. This letter is restricted. Order 7-12-T650 PvtHL
P.P.S. Will you kindly take my foil and mask to the … next time you come from Hilda’s. Thank you.
P.P.S.S. (Sorry, my pen isn’t housebroken yet.)

Harry’s graphic of the “Lowell Loan Co.”

In this letter to his cousin Paul, Harry seems to want to speak soldier to soldier. He knew Paul had been in the army during WWI and would understand what he was experiencing.

Here is a photo of Harry with his parents and Paul in Vienna from around 1930 – despite the close family connection, they were of different generations.

From left: Harry, Helene (crouching), Paul, Vitali

Harry talks of the fellowship he enjoys in the army. Paul kept many photos of his time as a soldier. Here is one that shows them all with a list of names on the back. It does not appear that Paul was in the photo. Perhaps he had left that company by then. One other thing to point out is something that was common in the early 20th century – making photos into postcards so you could send to friends and family. Sort of the Snapchat or Instagram of the time.

As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, Paul Zerzawy never quite found his footing in San Francisco. It must have been both comforting and embarrassing to be offered loans from his young nephew.

May 15

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Growing up, I knew that Paul Zerzawy was some sort of relative of my mother’s. He was 25 years older than my mother, so I was surprised to discover that he was her first cousin and Helene’s nephew. I’d seen his photo album which had wonderful photos from the early 20th century, but I didn’t know any of the people and felt no real connection. 

As I organized all the family papers, I came to realize how important Paul was to my family’s story. Although only 9 years difference in age, Helene babysat Paul and his siblings when they were young (see post where she describes babysitting Paul). Paul’s mother/Helene’s sister Ida died when he was only 7 years old, so Helene must have felt even more protective and parental. Helene was a diligent correspondent when Paul was a soldier in WWI and hosted Paul when he was on leave (see March 19 post). Paul lived and worked in Vienna in the 1920s and 1930s and spent a lot of time with his aunt and her family. He was the first in the family to make it to the U.S. in 1939, helping to pave the way for his young cousins.

As I have mentioned in earlier posts, I have been touched by how much loss Paul experienced throughout his life. He helped the family throughout WWI, providing them with money and provisions to help them through the lean times. He worked hard to bring his cousins and aunt to the U.S., but was unsuccessful in helping to bring Helene and Vitali in time. He had a successful career in Europe, but was never able to find footing in America. He’d been trained as a lawyer, but was not able to practice here. His English skills may not have been good enough to allow him to qualify. In San Francisco, he eked out a living teaching piano and accompanying singers, trying not to rely too much on the generosity of his mother’s cousins in San Francisco. His health wasn’t robust and he died in 1948 in his early 50s. As far as I know, he never had a romantic partner.

In addition to understanding how integral Paul was to my grandmother’s and mother’s story, I feel like I’ve come to know him and wish that I had met him and could have thanked him for all he did. I wish he had had more joy and been able to be carefree in his life.

My mother had in her possession Paul’s family photo albums and some official paperwork – death certificate, school records, etc. Harry had a box with Paul’s name on it which was filled with letters and photos from his life. I assume Harry took it after Paul’s death in 1948. I don’t know whether he or anyone looked at it before I found it in 2017. The box included a few hundred photographs of unknown people and places, which meant nothing to me at first. Now that I know more about Paul, these photos paint a fuller picture of his life – not just one of loss and difficulty, but one that included friends, fun, and travel.

This photo below was taken on a trip on May 15, 1931 – I cannot make out the location. His brother Robert has his glass raised.

 The following photos were taken on a different trip in May-June 1929.

May 5

100 years ago today…

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

My mother Eva was born 100 years ago today. I have found as I tell my family’s story that she often gets the least amount of attention. Some of it is due to documentation – I have so many of her mother’s and brother’s words, but few of her own. In life, too, she often was relegated to the sidelines. She did not like to call attention to herself and usually listened more than she spoke. Her brother Harry had a huge personality and charmed and filled the room. 

Eva was smart and independent, much like her mother. She had hoped to be a physician, something unusual for a woman in the early 20th century. She was so self-conscious about her accent and other-ness as a new arrival in the U.S. that she never pursued that dream, deciding instead to become a nurse. She longed for a life of adventure and travel. She loved opera and music, even trying to enjoy the music I listened to. She was an avid tennis and bridge player. She loved to drive, and whenever we went on vacation when I was young, we would get in the car and drive as far as we could during her time off, usually two weeks a year. In retirement, she traveled all over the world and loved every minute. She had a wonderful sense of humor and loved playing with language, writing clever poems (in English!) for people on special occasions. She always wanted to help, had high expectations of everyone but especially of herself, knitted beautiful hats and sweaters, and showed her love by showing up whenever and wherever she was needed. She did not believe she deserved nice things and was reluctant to spend money on herself. Although she was generous with others, she would not rely on others for anything. Above everything, she loved her family.

Eva lived a long life: she escaped the horrors of the Nazis and was able to survive and thrive in San Francisco. After some early support from relatives here as she completed high school, she made her way in the world – she completed nursing school, married, became the primary breadwinner, bought a house, earned a masters degree, became a public health nurse, raised a child, cared for her mother, retired, and explored as much of the world as she could. She had a debilitating stroke when she was 85. There were two silver linings: first, the stroke destroyed the part of her brain that was constantly judging herself so she was much mellower; and second, her brother Harry visited weekly and brought her great joy – after not seeing each other that often during their adult lives, their final days together were sweet and meaningful to them both. They would play backgammon (like the tric-trac of their childhood) and listen to music they both loved (thanks to their mother). She died 10 years ago, just a few months before her 90th birthday.

---

Eva in Vienna - 1921-1939:

---

 Eva in the U.S. - 1939-2011:  

---

From Helene to her daughter Eva on her 50th birthday:

S.F. May 5, 1971

Everly,

May the coming birthdays be happy & gay as I wish you, to see when I will blink from above. From there it will not happen that I forget this day, happy that the Herrgott gave me my sweet Everl.

Your forgetful
mother
Helen

---

Eva on some of her many travels:

April 23

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

The following letter refers to the Zerzawy family tree which we saw on February 13.

Although sharing a last name, the author of the letter, Dr. Herrmann Zerzawy, appears not to have been Jewish and not to have been related to the Zerzawys in my family. He mentions that Paul’s and Robert’s family tree was created by their father (Helene’s brother-in-law) Julius Zerzawy and his cousin Berthold. After spending the last few years in the land of genealogy, I am in awe of all that these people accomplished without access to the internet or computers.

When Roslyn translated this document, I thought it would be of interest to people interested in the history of genealogy. I have yet to find the correct person or organization. I put the question to a listserve on JewishGen and received replies about the origin of the last name. Here is one response: “Zerzawy is clearly a Germanized version of the Czech adjective ‘zrzavy’, which means ‘red-haired’ or ‘red-headed’ (‘zrzava’ for women -- normally with diacritics in both cases). A Czech acquaintance told me that the root of the word is ‘rez,’ which means ‘rust’ in English.” When I attended a Jewish genealogy conference last summer, I learned that Jewish surnames (last names) were not officially used in some communities in Europe until the 18th and 19th century. When surnames became required, in some places wealthy Jews could pay for a “good” name and poorer Jews were “given” a name, often one which was less than flattering. I don’t know into which category “red-headed” would have fallen.

In this letter, Hermann Zerzawy consults with Dr. Samuel Steinherz, a prominent history professor in Prague who, after being driven from his post by anti-semitic students, focused his research on the history of the Jews in Bohemia.

Vienna, April 23, 1937

Dr. Herrmann Zerzawy, Governmental Advisor, Vienna

Honorable University Professor Dr. Samuel Steinherz, Prague

Dear Professor,

During my recent visit to family members in Brünn, my friend and longtime colleague Bruno Trapp gave me a gift, the Book about the Jews and the Jewish Community of Moravia by Hugo Gold, which greatly interested me. My next question was: Is there something similar for Bohemia? My friend Trapp then gave me your address, Professor, since you are the President of the Society for the History of the Jews in the Czechoslovak Republic and an author of forthcoming publications. Thus, encouraged by my friend Trapp, I am politely requesting your help re my personal situation.

To introduce myself perhaps it is all right if I mention that I have been involved with genealogy and local history, have often spent vacations on personal research in archives in Moravia and Bohemia, have been a member of the war archive for 18 years, and I have put together, through tenacious work, a family archive of all instances I have found of the names Zerzawy, Zrzavy´, Sersawy, ze Rzawy, Vitus, Veit, Witha ze Rzawy, Lapaczek ze Rzawy (von Zerzawy, etc., etc.) with numerous documents, impressions of (family) seals, family trees, all with strict historical evidence, not considering filial proofs not currently possible (to determine) for some of the older, as well as younger, bearers of the name.

1)    Original noble bearers of the name. There is extensive literature about this: [many citations]

2) Middle class (civil) Zerzawy (Zerzawey, Zrzavy´, Sersawy); in Bohemia, Moravia, Vienna, etc.)
-    Attested 1671 in Teplejšowice and Wranow, east of Beneschau (Šimak confession list/index)
-    1674 in Slawikow near Časlau (entry list/registry of the vicar or priest)
-    From 1665 on in Kreuzberg (Krucembnik) near Deutschbrod. This is the ancestral home of about 1000 Zerzawy with their descendants, and mine. My birthplace is Auspitz in Southern Moravia. Proof in the Kreuzberg registry, Prague property and tax rolls, Polna ruling class documents, etc.
-    1680 in Ronow. Časlau district
-    1616 a Hans Zerzawy, actual name Richter, locksmith in Třeboň (Wittingau) (this is still to be verified in the Prague property rolls!)
-    1717-1745, head guard Wendel Anton Zerzawy in Erlau

3) Zerzawys of Jewish origins, in Bohemia, Moravia, Vienna
Their ancestor, as far as I can document this, is Veit Zerzawy, a Jewish businessman from Upper Cerekwe. [citing information on Paul Zerzawy’s family tree below]

Great-grandchildren are:
Merits Zerzawy, Rabbi in Sobieslou (born December 15 1864 in Upper Cerekwe) and
Julius Zerzawy, mountain (mining) engineer in Brüx. His sons:
Dr. Jur. Paul Zerzawy, Vienna, Creditors Association and
Robert Zerzawy, an official (civil servant) in the textile industry in Prague.

Thanks to the collaboration of Julius Zerzawy and a Berthold Zerzawy (deceased, Vienna) I have an exact family tree, at least as much as was possible up to now.

The following questions remain:
1)    Where are the Jewish Zerzawys from?
2)    What was their name prior to the Josephine (re)naming?
3)    How did they get the name Zerzawy?
4)    Where are the Jewish, or other relevant, registry items from Cerekwe and the earlier places of origin? a) Samuel Houbitschek apparently is responsible for the registry in Upper Cerekwe. b) Earlier Jewish registry entries may be in the Catholic priest’s office in Upper Cerekwe. c) Earlier documents supposedly in the Bishop’s office in Budweis [modern name: Česke Budejovice]. These are extremely important questions!!
5)    The district rabbinate in Tabor is apparently not an archive. (?)
6)    What is in the books Prague Property and Property Taxes, as well as the ruler’s books about these questions with the ascendancy sought? (Need to research this in the books in the relevant locations - towns, cities, districts, etc.) National Archives (former cemetery archive, Prague)

Dear Professor, by chance, while this letter was half completed, Mr. Robert Zerzawy from Prague visited me, along with his brother Paul. The former will take the letter with him to Prague and take the liberty of contacting you. - Please be so kind as to advise him, so that he may, following your kind advice/direction, complete the relevant research, either alone or with the assistance of a friend. He is very interested in the family’s history. He will then be so kind as to report to me what you, Honored Professor, have said about the individual questions listed above, what reference material you may be able to name, and where your extensive knowledge might best be put to use in order to gain academic clarification. This is certainly in the best interests of the (works about) the Jews in Bohemia. In this way, you will, through my initiative, and collaboration a perhaps not uninteresting family tree of the ancestor, hopefully with a successful answer to the question of the name’s origin.

With friendly thanks and the expression of my most excellent esteem

March 26

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Today we have three letters written on the same day. One to each of her children and one to her nephew.

Vienna, March 26, 1940

He, Hi, Hu, Honey, Harry!

Do you know if Jo and Paula are our only acquaintances? I have had some contact with the following: Frau Imi, Frau Ata, Herr Vim and Mr Fex. I have more to do with them than I would really like. Other acquaintances you might like such as Jarzebinka, Griot, Cherry, Brandy Marilowka and some other Polish citizens [includes little drawings - probably brands or flavors of alcohol]. “If you have problems, you also have liquor” and we have enough liquor [from H.C. Wilhelm Busch from Die fromme Helene – “Pious Helene” or “Helene who Couldn’t Help It”]. Now you will see why my letters are kind of weird sometimes. Papa says I’m going to get a red drinker’s nose, but Jo and I drink competitively and Papa just watches us and says “Oh, jeez, too bad about every single word.” In the land of Prohibition I will probably become a solid coffee drinker again.

How is my ROTC boy doing? I am looking forward to the next illustrated newsletter. I got a letter from Eva today which only took 47 days to get to us. That seems almost normal. Paul wrote on it too so I am a little more oriented as to what’s going on now.  

There was a man from the air command here looking at our apartment because we have received notice that we will have to leave the apartment soon. Papa acknowledged that we received that notice but that we are not at the present time thinking of giving up our apartment. How much I would like to since so many people have shown interest in seeing us elsewhere and maybe will help us to figure that out.

Papa tells me I need to finish this up because it’s time for him to leave and I want to add a few lines to Paul as well. See you later and don’t forget me!

Kisssssssssssssssssssssssssss…..s
Helen

Handwritten note at bottom: Greet Hilda & Nathan, Tillie and Julius

Handwritten note on top: Hi Harry, Jo, Cheers!

---

As usual, Helene keeps her sense of humor in her letter to her son, drawing pictures of alcohol bottles, quoting a German humorist from a book with her name in the title. At the same time, she alludes to the difficulty of their situation: having few friends left, drinking alcohol to ease the pain, and wishing there were a way out of Vienna when it’s been made clear that they are no longer welcome there.

---

 Vienna, March 26, 1940

My much beloved Eva-child!

I was just writing to you when the post brought me your letter from February 7. My suspicion that you are not getting all the letters I send comes from Harry’s letter - he got 7 but you only got 5 letters from me. I have been keeping to the order pretty carefully although I may have inserted a birthday letter to him which would not have been in order. My letter of today is the 23rd Clipper letter.

I am thrilled that school and school materials are free. I believe that if I ever do make it across the big pond, I will go to school again myself. Marie Theresia studied languages when she was 72 years old. Since the study of nursing takes 3 years and you may have the chance for further study, I am on board with your idea. I might have wished for you an easier profession, as you can probably tell.

In a recent letter I gave you a list of every letter I received and it would help if you kept track of them in a similar manner. I’ve made copies of most of them and then I can tell if certain important communications have gotten lost and repeat that information if it is of importance.

Lizette let us know about the kind letters you wrote. She let us know right away. It seems to be a lovely fellow who has now been born into this family. I don’t mean Fortuné and Beppo but the well-born Macka-Linie. Since we are thinking of Istanbul, I mention that nothing has changed in our matter. I’ll ask Paul if has time to go to the Turkish Consulate in Frisco and ask if they can maybe give us a tip. Because of the name, I don’t want it from you. I don’t promise myself much from this intervention, but in these times you shouldn’t leave any stone unturned. Papa could earn money in Europe. For example, Switzerland would be wide open for him in Koppl’s opinion, but without our passports we really can’t do anything - we have to let dear God be a good man. Even though this passive way of acting fits our lifestyle, my impatience would lead me to go to a place where at least I could get normal postal communication with you. I suppose that’s a lot to ask.

How are your teeth Eva - girl? Why didn’t you write to me about that? Please make up for this. Sometimes I get after myself that I didn’t ask Dr. Ornstein right away when you had the flu. But Dr. Schneider was so sure that I was convinced that he was a good diagnostician. Don’t worry about it my child - you will get used to the dentures and they have very good dentists over there.

Papa and I took an Easter walk yesterday. We walked through the city park. Not only was there a lack of flowers, well-dressed people weren’t there either. Even those people couldn’t make up for the spring flowers we didn’t see. We looked for the little ones at the smaller and the larger playground and I felt like we were looking 10 years into the past. I saw you in my mind playing ball or playing in the sand or just looking out to see if the man with the “sticks” [?] was around. After we put ourselves in such a sentimental mood, we left that place which connects me with some of the most beautiful memories of my life. Papa said “At least you can visit your grandchildren here sometime.” We went home via the Ring, Kärntnerstrasse, Wollzeile. The streets were very lively, because the first spring air lured everyone out of the house. We were gone for more than an hour and we didn’t see a single face we knew.

Now I’ll end and I’ll write you a few more letters by hand. Farewell my child and let yourself be kissed in spirit.

[Many handwritten notes all over both pages:

At the top of first page: Prosit. Why haven’t you written to us about the letter we sent on the 21st of this month?

Upside down at top of first page: Best greetings to the Schillers

Upside down at the top of the second page: Today I have no more paper. Next I will write a long handwritten report. Kisses from Helene 

At the bottom of the second page: My dear child, I am so ashamed that you want a handwritten letter. I once gave up something because I couldn’t type … because you can’t read my handwriting. Maybe my Istanbul letters have been misunderstood. ]

In this letter to Eva, Helene revisits her guilt about her daughter’s teeth. We learned about this in the letter posted on January 28.

At the end of her life, Helene lived at the Jewish Home for the Aged in San Francisco. She no longer spoke English and she had no memories of the present – she may have had Alzheimer’s, but it didn’t have a name at the time. She was happy, sang opera, and in her mind she was living in pre-war Vienna. When I went to visit her once in 1979, I was taking a course in German and understood a bit of what she said. She did not know who I was and talked to me as if we were in a park in Vienna. She asked if I knew her children. I think she must have been living the very same memory she described in this letter. So although Helene didn’t get to visit her grandchildren in Stadtpark, her granddaughter visited with her there in spirit.

---

Vienna, March 26, 1940

Dear Paul,

Congratulations on the apartment!  It’s a step forward, slowly but surely.  We don’t live in the land of milk and honey nowadays, but if we are patient and can wait, we can accomplish something.  Soon you will have regained your independence and achieved a sphere of influence appropriate to your enthusiasm and knowledge. In a country where you are still in the process of learning the language for practical use, it may take a bit longer.  I am reminded of what an acquaintance, who now lives in London, once told me: “What good is it that I can read Wilde or Galsworthy in the original, but I don’t know how to say ‘rain gutter’?”  We looked it up right after that, but I don’t think this knowledge would really help me make progress in the USA.  I only wish I knew if it would serve any purpose for me to learn Turkish, Chinese, Spanish or English.  But what does a goose dream about?  Just about corn. (something is wrong about that word, but I don’t know what). So I dream about reuniting with my children.  While I work with a broom and duster, I wander through California’s blessed fields with you.  Let me hear from you soon, and don’t worry about whether the letter will arrive or not.  That’s all for today, and break a leg!

Helen

---

I am in awe of Helene’s seeming fearlessness at facing uprooting herself, finding a way to earn a living and learning a new language. As we see in her letter to Paul, since they don’t know where they will end up, she doesn’t quite know which language to learn. In thinking about learning new things, in her letter to Eva, Helene refers to the Habsburg ruler, but for once she had her dates wrong. Maria-Theresa lived to age 63.

March 13

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Like her letters, Helene’s stories often take us on a roundabout yet satisfying journey. The story posted today begins by referring to a newspaper article about the opening of Vienna’s rebuilt opera house in 1955. She then muses on the Vienna of her memory, and regrets that her daughter Eva’s experience of that Vienna ended up being far less magical than her mother’s, especially after March 13, 1938. She tells us a bit about her impressions of living in San Francisco. After explaining the ins and outs of Vienna’s coffeehouse culture, Helene recalls a happy time from Eva’s childhood, which brings us to the title of the story – a song that was popular at the time [Per Wikipedia (using Google translate): “Oh Katharina! is the title of a one-step hit that Richard Fall composed in E flat major in 1924. The text for this was composed by the librettist Fritz Löhner under his stage name Beda. The song was published with the subtitle "Grüss dich Gott" by the Viennese Bohème-Verlag Berlin-Vienna.”].

Newspaper clipping saved by Helene

Translation: Left side - State Opera House 1945: A fiery ruin in a burning, starving, trembling city; Right side - State Opera House 1955: A shining palace of fine arts, jewel of the new Vienna

Excerpt of the first half of a story written by Helene in the late 1950s:

First page of story

O, Katherina, O, Katherina

That Vienna which had reopened its new Opera building in November 1955 is as strange to me as is the North or South Pole.

I made Austria’s capital my elective home 55 years ago with an abundance of sentiment and the consuming flame of immeasurable vehemence of feelings which only a girl at the tender age of sixteen can produce who had not yet sought or found another outlet for her emotions.

As a high school girl stuffed with Greek mythology, I had the idea of Vienna as the Muse of songs and tunes, disguised as a big city. Such a metamorphosis seemed to me just as imaginable as Jupiter’s matricides.

… I have to begin with: “Once upon a time,” since I told that story to my daughter when she was just three years old.

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful habitation situated on the banks of the Danube, surrounded by an enchanting landscape, near the spurs of the Alps. The Romans on their conquests stopped and settled at that place and called it Vindobona – good wind – and later it became Vienna, a beautiful city inhabited by people who really were brought there by a good wind….

Many good fairies stood godmother, endowed it with beauty, hilarity and music. Music was in the air, in the trees, in the woods, in the flowers, and in geniuses such as Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, and Brahms, who knew to listen and only had to write it down. The swallows when they left that place to visit the pyramids in Egypt told them how wonderful that place was where they came from and that they wanted to return as quickly as possible.

That and other fairy tales I told my daughter when she was somewhat older than she was as the heroine of my following tale. I guess she will never forgive me for that false notion that I gave her of her birthplace, a description existing only in my flourishing imagination, from that Vienna I loved so much and still love.

She was almost 18 years old when Hitler on the 13 March 38 conquered Vienna and was hailed as savior by well-instructed legions of imported Viennese from the Reich (Germany) and Graz, the provincial capital of Styria, that town which got for that Judas kiss the title of Die Stadt der Volkserhebung – Town of the Revolution. On that day had my daughter drunk Lethean water. All the nice recollections which she must have had sank into the trap-door of her theater. Forgotten were the evenings I spent with her at the opera, at the concerts, museums, our Sunday walks in the Vienna woods, trips to the Wachau and even the immortal works of the German poets were overturned by the creations of the united native Austrian and the Horst Wessel Lied or imported mob: Huetet euch ihr Mazzoth-Fresser, bald kommt die Nacht der langen Messer.” Watch out you matzo eater, near is the night where our long knives will be in action. …

It is not my intention to spoil my own delight and happiness at being so lucky to bask as a resident and citizen of California in the beautiful sunshine the Lord who had created radiant days with such perfection; the Lord who besides making weather had the ability to plunge all the world into an inferno.

May 5, 1924 was the third birthday of my little girl. I decided to celebrate that grand day by taking my child to the Rudolfshof which was very easy to approach or to leave if the weather should have the caprice to change.

The vast garden provided a big playground for children, with clean sand and buckets so that the kids could carry as much water as they needed from the nearby faucet. The place was at a higher level than the coffee house garden, and the parents were sitting under blooming chestnut trees on that beautiful spring day. All mothers had one thing in common: the wish to relax. They managed it in a variety of ways: by reading, embroidering, or like me, doing nothing. I took a chair to put my feet on, leaned my head on the back of a wicker chair, and closed my eyes.

---

Before I give a description of that glorious day, I have to convey how an old time Viennese ordered a cup of coffee, an unpretentious cup of coffee, in one of the circa 2,000 coffeehouses of the city of Vienna.

An American who had the desire for a cup of coffee would have gone to a cafeteria, would have sat down at a counter or a booth if there had been one, would have accepted without turning a hair a cup with its dark contents and without much ado. Cream, sugar, ketchup, mustard, Worcestershire sauce, tabasco and toothpicks were always on any table or counter and he could put in his cup whatever and however much as he wanted. The waitress wouldn’t give him a look or a thought, would write the bill and put it upside down before the guest. He would drink, pay and the whole affair would have been over in a few minutes. What an easy job to work in an American coffee shop. For an American, a cup of coffee is a cup of coffee, nothing else except that in the ten years since I lived in one of the most beautiful cities in the United States, in San Francisco the price for a cup of coffee jumped from a nickel (5 cents) to a dime (10 cents). 

A traveler who had not enjoyed the Vienna I have known would have to learn by heart some rules or expressions before he had the right to say he knew the famous Viennese coffee houses.

There were from the standpoint of the vessels as well as from the curtains so many variations:

·      One tasse equals about a cup
·      One glass contains the same amount, but some people prefer to drink their coffee out of a stem-glass.
·      One schale is a cup of medium size
·      One Nuss had a double meaning. As measurement it meant a small cup like a nutshell, as stimulant it meant a dollhouse sized cup of coffee with enough milk to turn the beverage the color of a nutshell. (The American meaning “nuts” would have been more adequate.)
·      One Turkish (my favorite) was a concoction of powdered, finest coffee, boiled in a special way with sugar in a conic-shaped vessel with a long stem of copper or brass, served in the little pot in which it was boiled, put on a tray with a glass of ice water and an empty dollhouse-sized cup.

To order the coffee the way you wanted it was a little bit more difficult. The Viennese didn’t just order the empty container:

·      Tasse mit Schlag was a big eggshell-china cup with whipped cream
·      Tasse mit Doppelschlag was the same with a double amount of whipped cream.
·      Tasse: more brown meant the same container, but not too much milk, without Schlag (whipped cream)
·      Schale “more brown” was a medium-sized cup. (I suppose that after World War II no Viennese had the desire of “more brown.” [Helene drew a swastika]

The price for all mentioned kinds was the same.

·      A Kapuziner was always understood to be a small cup of coffee with milk in the color of the garb of a Capuchin monk (not lighter, not darker).
·      A Mocca was a small dollhouse-sized cup of always ready black coffee, contrary to the always freshly prepared Turkish.

Now, with the apprentice David in “Meistersinger” who introduced the knight Walther von Stolzing into the mysteries of a mastersong, I would say: These are only the names, now learn to order your cup of coffee. The memory of a Viennese waiter was amazing. When he approached a table of a dozen people who ordered at least half a dozen, he only seldom made a mistake and if he did, he would have apologized. With an air worthy of a more important affair, he wrote down the orders, repeated them by throwing a glance at each guest, and when everybody nodded appreciatively, the waiter went to the counter where the orders were effectuated, and with the greatest calmness he asked for: six with and six without. With an inimitable nonchalance, he distributed the cups in the opposite order that had been made. No German guest would have accepted something he had not ordered. But the Viennese tourist who got a table in such an establishment considered himself lucky to be asked by a waiter for his wishes at all and he by no means complained. He was so happy, tired and glad to have an opportunity to relax that he willingly accepted that 2+2=5 and consumed what the waiter had put before him. If one of the guests made a fuss, the coffee was taken from him, given to somebody at the next table who couldn’t wonder enough about the attention the waiter paid to him, but the complaining guest could wait until doomsday for another cup and would have accepted with pleasure that cup he had refused before, but he had lost his chance. 

Maybe in the resurrected Vienna, the coffee house habits have not changed totally, since not all Viennese are gone. Therefore, European travelers who pass Vienna, I freely give you the first lesson in coffeeology which you must learn by heart if you don’t want to be recognized as a greenhorn. (That is a terrible thing. Believe me, I speak with some authority about that subject).

---

Photo of Helene with young Eva

That tedious lesson was necessary to understand the trouble of a mother of a three-year-old, taking her out for a trip.

I told my girl: “Eva, it is your birthday and I will take you out without your little brother.”
-“That is fine.”
-“Will you not take along your new doll?”
-“I don’t want to carry it along all day.”
-“No maternal instinct at all,” I thought.
-“Where shall we go, Eva? Prater or Rudolfshof?”
-“Rudolshof, and I want to have an ice-bombe.” (different flavors of ice cream in various colors, imbedded in two shells of meringue, big enough to serve four people)
-“All right,” I said and thought she will not be always three years old. Today I will let her have her will and I will say to the waitress to fill it with only half the amount.

We took the streetcar #38 and my daughter behaved herself and accepted the seat I had chosen, unlike her general habit. She looked very pretty in her new dress of white muslin with blue dots.

At the Waisenhausgasse Orphanage stop, two capuchin monks entered the car and seated themselves opposite of us.

-“Mutti, why have the two men no hats and go on the street in their housecoats?
-“They don’t wear housecoats” I whispered, “and don’t talk so loud.”
-“Why?”
-“It is not customary. Imagine if everybody would talk as loud as you do at the same time, what a noise there would be in the streetcar.”
-“But nobody besides me talks.” 
-“Because all people here in the tram have better manners,” I lisped into her ear. “Nobody is interested in your conversation. Therefore, if you have to tell me something or want to ask me a question, do it in a way that not all the people have to listen to it.”
-“The two men wear clotheslines instead of belts. Why are they dressed so funny?”
-“They are monks and the garb they wear is required by the order they belong to,” I whispered and repeated: “Please lower your voice.”

I tried to divert her attention to something on the street but my daughter didn’t care about what was going on outside.

-“What are monks?”
-“Priests. And now be silent for a little while, please. Take into consideration that not all people like to have their thoughts disturbed.”
-“What kind of priests?”
-“Kapuziner (Capuchins).”

Immediately my daughter started to sing a hit, just in vogue at that time: “O, Katherina, o, Katherina schenk mir ein ‘nen Kapuziner.” (O, Catherine, o, Catherine, Serve me a little cup of dark, brown coffee), but the way my child pronounced it when she picked up that song on the street ran: “O, Catherine, o, Catherine, present me with a little monk.”

I dropped my handbag, lost my color and my wits, and my only wish was to leave the car.

-“Come along Eva, we have to get out.”
-“No, it is not yet the terminal and Rudolfshof is the next to last station.”
-“You are right, but I remembered that I have an errand here in the neighborhood and then we will take the next car.”
-“Today is my birthday and I want you not to run errands.”

Disregarding her objection, I pulled the cord and approached the exit, but my daughter showed not the slightest inclination to leave the tram. The car stopped at the next corner but my child didn’t want to leave the car and I had to postpone my “errand.” Eva ran back to where the monks were sitting, placing her little person before them. The older one was a very stout man; the younger one was tall and slim. I was afraid that my daughter would make some remarks to continue the conversation. I took her hand and wanted to tie her to a bench in the most remote corner, but Eva grasped with her other little paw the garment of one of the monks, without finding it worthwhile to contradict my: “Come and sit down, please.” 

-“What is your name, please?” she asked the older priest, bending her head a little to one side and casting him a coquettish glance, which had she been fifteen years older would have been called “irresistible.”
-The friendly priest said, smiling: “Father Anselmo.”
-“And yours?” she asked with a similar look to the younger priest.
-“Frater Clemens.”
-“My name is Eva Maria Nehoc and my mother’s name is Helene and my father’s is Vitali.”

 All passengers, except me, seemed very amused and I thought: “five minutes more and all the people in the car would be informed in which income tax bracket we belong.” 

-“Why did my mutti tell me your names were Kapuziner?”
-“That is the name of our brotherhood.”
-“The name of our brotherhood is Harry.”
-“I think you love your brother very much,” said the young priest.
-“Not too much. He is screaming a lot and so loud.”
-“How old is he?”
-“Three months.”
-“You did the same when you were a baby, only you can’t remember.”
-“Maybe, but I had no brother nor sister who would be annoyed by my hollering.”
-“But you have parents, who perhaps didn’t like it either.”
-“Oh, they didn’t mind,” she said deprecatingly.

For a few minutes I didn’t listen to what my daughter told them, but it must have been something very funny because all our fellow-passengers roared with laughter. Even the two monks were smiling.

My daughter still stood before them supporting herself on their knees as the car took a sharp curve. I rose from my seat and asked my little girl to be good and sit down.

-“Mutti, you have to give Father Anselmo and Frater Clemens some money to buy themselves socks, they don’t have any.”
-I tore her away vigorously and said: “I will, but not on the streetcar.”
-“Why?”
-“In churches are boxes to put money in.”
-“But you never go to churches. Will you go to their homes?”
-“I will go to a church today and you can accompany me.”
-“Poor men. They have to wash their feet very often, don’t they?”
-I bent to her ear and whispered: “They do, but please be quiet, really my head aches from your talking continually.”
-“If you have a headache, I am sure you will not go to church today. Shall I ask for their address so you can pay them a visit to their home?”

I was at the end of my wits and did not answer her anymore, but Heaven heard my prayer. The two monks had to leave at the next stop. An elderly lady saw that the two priests had risen to leave the car, stood up too to kiss their hands. My daughter watched it, ran to the exit and called: “Father Anselmo, Frater Clemens, please wait a moment, my mutti wants to kiss your hands too.”

That time they didn’t pay attention to the wish of my daughter.

The car moved in the same direction the two Kapuziner monks walked, and when we passed them Eva waved with her little hand and they answered her salutation with a smile.

March 11

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Vienna, 11 March 1941

#80      My dear children!

In front of me I have your letter of February 5 (#5) which I have already let you know that I received but hadn’t gone into any more details. Everl’s description of the concert academy I found delightful. It is interesting that recently when I was looking for a piece of material thought about the same event happening at a student concert. Isn’t that funny? We have experienced all sorts of episodes in our 18 years of living together. When I was looking among my scraps of material for a little piece [a Flickfleck - also a board game], I picked up a piece of the “veins dress”. Suddenly it was like a film was playing before my eyes. A little dirndl which was round as a barrel with a little pageboy head made a lovely curtsy and even did some arabesques in rhythm. The next number I only have a memory of “The Cuckoo” and the serious little face of a modern composer. One almost would have thought he was trying to play a paraphrase on the topic of “cuckoo”. No wonder that the little one made quite an impression on us. It’s very strange that my thoughts always flee into the past. But when you think about it, it’s not so surprising really, because the present is so unpleasant. It’s only strange that I do this more and more in recent times. Why go far back into the past? If I were a pessimist, I would explain it that I feel closer to those who were then but are not alive anymore. I don’t mean that in an emotional way, but I would think that I feel closer to them back from that time than I do to you. But I am an optimistic kind of person and I find the explanation of this that my beloved departed relatives communicate with us in this way. They give me advice or they even want to help. If I should ever be on the other side, I would try to express myself more clearly. I am sure that many before me have tried to do that. It’s probably not a matter of them but of us, we who have not learned to listen to our inner voice. We write 375, a great migration of people begins. But haven’t we gone even farther back? Don’t we live in Noah’s times? Will there be room in his ark for us? I believe the Pompadour once said “Après nous, le déluge”. How smart she was.

According to my astronomical calculations, there ought to be a letter from you tomorrow. If I am wrong again this time, then I will throw all those calculations overboard and I will find a better way. 

I have read through Harry’s letter and I let Dischendorfer know about it right away which was not necessary because it seemed like he had been waiting for me anyway. Harry-bubi seemed to have grown ceremoniously, his nature really came through if you read between the lines. I don’t know if or when the affidavit is coming, but I have decided to cut material for your corns so I’ll have that for you. Papa just went right by me and I didn’t move over enough to give him room, didn’t show respect in that way. Don’t you feel better that I can write less now? You were certainly without news from us for 14 whole days because I had the brilliant idea to send #66 via South America. Certainly #67 is already in your possession, but it won’t tell you very much because it was from that time when I hadn’t had any mail for so long and as we see I incorrectly assumed that delivery of letters from us was at a standstill as well.

Harry should write something about his work selling bananas. Maybe if he writes such detailed descriptions my mouth will be watering, my nose will feel the scent of this delicious fruit, that has not been tasted for a long time. I will report back to him in a twitchy way. What’s the text of the Prince Eugen song? Didn’t he build a bridge that one could cross over? [pun about twitching]

I’ve got to go now.

     Kiss, kiss
Helen
to everyone

---

Eva sewed many of her own clothes. I wonder she is referring to the dress in the photo below when she talks about the “veins dress”.:

Eva at the sewing machine in Vienna in 193?

Might this be the “veins dress”?

March 7

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Today letter is from Helene to her nephew Robert in England. It was mostly written in English. The translated German passages are in Italic.

Istanbul, 7 March 46

Dear Robert, My Heaven sent boy! Without you I should be always waiting for letters still, and for some dear loving words. In the meantime, I received plenty of letters from Eva and her husband (he seems to be a nice fellow) and Harry enclosed four always-short letters which proved me that they innermost have not changed. Outside, of course, Harry appears nearly unrecognizable, but not to me. From the flapper Eva became a young woman, her face has not altered.

You wrote me in your last letter: “There is no going back to the past for all of us.” Yes, Robert, I am sorry because there is no road back. Then you continued: “But your children are real. They may have changed - it would be unthinkable that they hadn’t. But that doesn’t offset your relationship. They would have changed in normal times too because they are grown up, and now live their independent life. Is that not right and good so?” Yes, Robert! It is right and good so. Thousand times yes!  

Robert, I can’t remember what I have written to you, but from your letters I can see that I must have been crazy. There is a Russian proverb: Look before you leap, and then don’t leap! I will make a variation of it. Think before you write, and then, don’t write! Had I had an idea of it, that you will send my letters which seem to me now to have shown the symptoms of madness I had not sent them away. Dear Robert, don’t mistake me. It is not in the least a reproach, and I didn’t consider it as an indiscretion. I only wouldn’t worry them. Mothers in their love are sometimes egotistical. I rewarded your gentleness, your sympathy, and your affection badly by pouring out all my trouble and cares on you. This letter you can show them; they ought to have knowledge what a beastly mother they have.  

There is one excuse for my hoggish behavior. In Vienna Paul was my - I use an expression by Galsworthy - business-nurse. To play the role of a father confessor, he had seldom time for me. There were too many “brothers and sisters.” Since your last stay in Vienna I found out that we have similar related souls and I mean related not in the sense of family or relationship but more of the “elective affinities” [Die Wahlverwandtschaften – a novel by Goethe].

A little scene. You took me out with your car. You, Paul and I had coffee and cakes in a little inn. Before we reached this “Jause Station” [a cafe], you stopped your car when you have seen in a meadow primroses, the first of the year; you gathered them while Paul and I remained in the auto. I watched you and said to Paul: “Look now, Robert has just the same expression on his face as he had as a little boy with (always, please tell it to Hilda) short hair and a straw hat which was like a halo on his head! You gave me this nice looking nosegay and I was very pleased with it, more as by the thought than one from a flower shop. The innkeeper, an old, fine lady, told us how she came to this little coffeehouse, etc, etc, and when we said adieu, she said: “the lean gentleman is your husband, is he not? One can see it immediately because he is so careful.” There were no time and no reason to correct her mistake. I left this little coffeehouse (in English, I know it; but for that term there is no synonym) amused, and flattered of course.

The next day you made another trip in the Vienna Woods in another company. When you came to have dinner with us, you brought me, wrapped in a doe skin, the first violets. That was so nice Robert, so very, very nice of you. The doe skin I stored away, hoping to give it back to you. It is gone with all our things, but not the recollection of how I happened to keep your doe skin. It is unbelievable what little events are stored away in our brains and how dear those little intermezzi can be.

Before I fell in the melancholy way, I lived more in the present and in the future, and here I seek refuge in the past. On the delay of my departure I am not quite without guilt. Had I written to you about the money affair, things would have been altered. But I didn’t know in which pecuniary condition Eva and her husband are living, I know Harry a soldier. Before the Joint Association asked for the money, every delay seemed to me a new punishment, but I comforted myself saying: The only good thing in this bad job is that the children have not to pay for my passage. My wits began to turn once I knew they have to pay for it, and I stayed here so long I can say Lugsi [?] voluntarily.

Robert, you mentioned in your last letter that I told you that I am reading Shakespeare, but I hope you will not have expected letters in Shakespearean style. I am glad to receive letters in the English language. It enlarges my knowledge of it and compels me to think in this language. Reading letters is so much easier and more agreeable. I am astonished that you write German correctly still, while my children obviously have forgotten a great deal.

Enclosed is a letter to Paul. You will be astonished about that. But I will explain it to you. Today is Thursday, and generally two ladies from the Jewish society come to pay us a visit, distributing cakes and asking for letters which they mail for us. Therefore perhaps you have received some letters with an unknown sender. Apart from this I don’t know Paul’s address. By all means it would be more plain to attach this letter to one to Eva or Harry, but I sent both of the two a letter this week and I must not spoil them.

Robert, you made excuses in your last letter for your acting like a school master. No reason! After reading Harry’s letters I know I deserve much more to be told off than you. You are right if you blame me. Robert, if I am in San Francisco and I am so happy that you will come there too, I will make a thick line under the chapter Kassel - Istanbul insomuch it is concerning my person, of course not for Vitali, the only grief since I know Harry is out of danger. I am so happy about that and that Eva has found a nice husband is a great satisfaction to me.

In your last letter, you told me I will make friends in USA. I don’t believe so. I will find kindliness, compassion, that is what I fear. Did I mention it because you wrote: “I want you to understand it would be wrong to refuse kindness wherever it is given.” Robert, will you be my tutor and advise me to deal with people? I am not afraid with the children. We taught them to enjoy merriments. I am so sorry about Nathan with respect to Hilda. She is such a darling. There is a great comfort she knows how and when he died. Most of the European widows don’t know it. Perhaps you will have trouble to understand my English, the next letter I will write in German again. Please Robert now, where air mail is possible, write me very often and soon. It is so fine to receive letters in a really and mentally seclusion. One fact I must state, I endeavored to try to be balanced. I don’t know if I have been successful. However sometimes, long, long ago, I succeeded in by using a kind of gallows humor by getting myself in a better mood, but long distance, it is somewhat difficult.

I make myself reproaches, that my letters to you had a bad influence on your humor and I committed a crime to impose upon you. Please Robert, take care of you, we will cause each other as few griefs as possible.

Your Helen
Farewell and don’t be angry with me.

...loving
Yours Helen 

The sentence was not crossed out by any censorship agency, but rather I did that myself because I myself absolutely couldn’t understand what I wanted to say when I read over the letter to try to correct a few mistakes.

There is so many room to fill up with nice things to tell you and I have so much in store for you. Especially for you because you were also so many years so very alone [the mother of all German words for ‘loneliness’] Now I am thinking not on England, I thought on Brüx after the death of Kätelein. I am and I was always more thinking about you than you perhaps imagine. To be true to my principles is not to bestow anything/something to the post office, especially the Turkish. I send you so many kisses as there is room and more still

Your Helen

Airmail postage is very expensive and it is very uneconomical to leave white space. Instead of tell you off when I see you I will give you a long, big kiss on your snout. Hilda would be upset about such an unladylike expression. To her must I say: Have you expected to receive a lady? The Kazet [concentration camp] is not a girls high school. The way the female guards have spoken to us would have caused soldiers to blush.

---

One thing that has become clear is how proud and independent she was. In many respects, that is a great thing. However, her letters show us she was uncomfortable asking for financial assistance from family members, which may have prevented her and Vitali’s safe passage from Vienna before it was too late. In this letter too, she is sorry she hadn’t asked for monetary assistance earlier, assuming that the bureaucracy of the Joint would provide the assistance she needed.

You can see that Helene made a point of filling every inch of space on the paper, commenting on the cost of postage and the desire not to waste a penny. She made sure to include many loving signatures and endearments, not wanting to let go of this connection to her past, present, and hopefully future.

I continue to be amazed at how much was shared across the oceans. Letters traveled from Istanbul to London to San Francisco so that everyone knew what was happening with their loved ones abroad. This turned out to be a happy practice for me, since I would not have this letter otherwise.

Despite all that Helene has been through, she still has great empathy for others. She feels that she and Robert are kindred spirits. She lovingly recalls things that Robert did as a child and young adult. She grieves with his many losses and current solitude: his half-sister Käthe died in 1918 at the age of 14 and Robert lost his own mother before he was three and his step-mother/aunt when he was 10.

March 5

In addition to the letter we see today, I posted earlier about a letter Helene wrote on March 5, 1941 relating a lovely memory about playing a “Name That Tune” type game with her children. In that same letter she explains that they cannot send the Gablonz pieces they described in the letter posted on March 3. In today’s letter from March 4 and 5, 1940 we learn of another game they played.

Vienna, 4 March 1940

My beloved children!

The next premiere in the Burgtheater is something entitled “136 Days” because that’s how long Harry’s letter of 21 October took to get here. Even though it was really late we were really happy to get it because we found out more details about your trip and the impressions you’ve had and how you were received. We are doing much the same as you are: we live with you and among you in our thoughts so we often find in your letters the proof of the way we’ve been feeling. It’s been 5 months since we took you to the train station and it’s unbelievable how fast time has passed although there’s days that never seem to end. Especially those when my imagination leads me somewhere. Yesterday was pretty much a day like that. I could have sworn we would be getting letters. I might have gotten it yesterday if it hadn’t been Sunday. We spent the day with a game that was the latest things a couple of years ago. This very successful game was invented by Harry L Lowell and it goes like this: You hide something behind your back and say “What do I have in my hand?” And you say “Retina 2” and you do this until it drives the other person crazy. Papa played this yesterday and as often as I thought I’d guessed it, he said “no”. This is the way we spend an English Sunday as at a church festival. I am curious which crazy ideas we’re going to end up with next Sunday.

5 March 1940

Harry just got an order to appear today at 11 at Seitenstettengasse 2-4, Room 27. It will be noticeable if he does not show up. After I told you of the experience of the day, waiting for the mail wasn’t really worth it. So I will not take my anger out on you. The sun is shining and I will take care of some various details because I can imagine we shouldn’t let sunny days go unused. So that’s the end of my 19th Clipper letter. Will have more next time.

10000000000000000000000000 Kisses,
Helene

---

Helene refers to a letter they just received that Harry had written on October 21, just 6 days after Eva and Harry’s arrival in the U.S. They probably wrote about visiting both the 1939 NY world’s fair and the Golden Gate International Exposition on Treasure Island. Imagine being introduced to life in America that way!

Here are photos of souvenir coins Harry saved from those visits:

 Here are photos Harry took from the ferry to Treasure Island and of acrobats at the fair:

Although I don’t have a copy of the letters Eva and Harry wrote to Helene and Vitali, I have one that Eva wrote to Paul Zerzawy while he was in New York telling him about their safe arrival in San Francisco. He met them upon arrival in New York and made sure they got on a train. An earlier post includes excerpts of this letter with Eva’s first impressions of San Francisco.