March 17

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Today’s letter to Helene’s nephew Paul Zerzawy was written on the same date and has the same Clipper and censorship numbers as the letter posted yesterday, which makes me believe both letters were sent together. I organized and archived the papers based on recipient as well as where and when they were found. At that time, I didn’t understand that all of these letters belonged together and told parts of the same story. Therefore, I prioritized translation of Helene’s letters to her children over the documents I found in Paul’s box, never imagining how integral they would be. So these two letters were translated months apart and the “conversation” wasn’t obvious until I began looking at the letters by date.

 #82                             Vienna, 17 March 1941

My dear Paul! Your telegram on the affidavit, etc was certainly the answer to my letter of February 12th. I am blaming myself again, not that I overestimated the necessity and direness of our situation, but because I am causing you so much expense. I know from Hilda that you are working like crazy and when I imagine your weary, exhausted face and think about how many hours you must still torture yourself to earn money even to send a telegram, then I could just cry. I would have answered you with a prepaid answer telegram if it were possible in order to tell you about my health. So please don’t send a cable unless it’s really necessary. I do not want to make so much trouble for you. I have certainly not exaggerated, nor did I want to cause you unnecessary fear; but I believed that Robert or someone else had written about us, but since I had heard nothing from you I knew that you were either not informed about us or incorrectly informed. There is no place for reproach here. I certainly hesitated when it came to telling you about unpleasant things, but until November the postal service was fairly secure and it took 12-14 days for a letter to arrive. But after this time the Clipper letters were taking so long and sending a telegraph would have also been possible. I know that I wrote to you last year that I didn’t need any material assistance and that I would like to save the willingness of the relatives to help until the time for our departure. Now it has come and I must add to my request for ship tickets, namely tickets from Vienna so that we can get to the ship. We are not allowed to pay this with our own funds. I promised you on my honor at the time that I would tell you the naked truth. The point has come when I must swallow my pride and ask our relatives to stand by me. What it costs me, the effort to do this, you can well imagine. Not that I have any doubt about the generosity, but precisely because of it I find it so agonizing. As far as the second part of your telegram goes, you didn’t tell me anything new. We knew all this already, but it’s not true of all districts in the USA. But it’s tout égal to us, in other words we don’t care how we earn our living. It’s premature to rack our brains about that now and it’s kind of like the story of the two people from here who had a fight with each other. They had grown up together as friends and decided to buy a car together. They fought about it and they treated each other rudely because each of them thought he should be in the driver’s seat and neither wanted to sit inside the car. They fought until the stronger one said “you’re going to get off that coach box!” and then he k.o.’ed the other. But we don’t want to land over there with such an intent. I have figured out (!!) that you have received all of my letters and you will know what’s going on. If the post were running normally, you would not get such hurried news from us all at once. In closing Paul, I thank you for your willingness to help, your trouble, and last but not least I am sorry that I caused you such dark hours. And now it seems between our departure there are not hundreds of days but maybe thousands, measured by what’s going on. So please I ask you to forgive me for my inappropriate expressions of reproach and my unjust accusations. My disenchantment with Europe is the reason for everything and the excuse for it. Please greet all the loved ones from us and be kissed by

Helen

---

Helene says that the telegram she received must be in response to a letter from February 12. Despite the dozens of letters I have from Helene at that time, I don’t have a letter from that date. But we have seen letters addressing their situation and requesting that Paul reply by telegram, as well as the text of the telegrams that Paul sent.

Helene is much clearer with Paul about the direness of their situation in Vienna than she was in the letter to her children which I posted yesterday. She remains ever resilient and optimistic, certain she and Vitali will find a way to support themselves in America. As I read through the letters from this time, I am filled with “if onlys” – if only Helene had asked for help sooner, if only Paul had more resources at his disposal, if only…

March 16

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

# 82                                         Vienna, 17 March 1941

My dear children!

We had a happy Sunday yesterday. In the morning your letter #6 from February 12 came and Paul’s dispatch came in the afternoon. After that, Papa invited me out for a snack. Without being asked, he got the “Popolo di Roma” [perhaps the Il Popolo d’Italia] and the “Illustrazzioni” [presumably L'Illustrazione Italiana] and I got the past Reading Circle* handed to me. Was the waiter able to read my mind so well that he knew that I live in the past or was it just my whole demeanor that suggested to him that he should bring this particular reading material to me? Be that as it may, he did a good job. At first, I was a little annoyed at myself because I had forgotten my lorgnette that I use to read, but Papa knew what to do. He lent me his monocle which he uses for reading and work and like the Phorcides [sisters in Greek mythology] who together had only one eye and one tooth they had to trade them among themselves if they either wanted to eat or see, we when one of us wanted to read the other one had to look at pictures. I really had a delightful time. First, I read the main article of the Vienna newspaper from 18 August 1849, and then I handed Papa the monocle and the newspaper and I had fun looking at the pictures in the fashion magazine “Bazaar” from 1878. After Papa gave me the monocle back, I amused myself reading a number of the “Simplicissimus” from 1906. I had to laugh so hard that your dad threatened that I’d have to be thrown out of the restaurant. Since I didn’t want that to happen, I gave him the “Eye” back and the newspaper and I used my teeth which fortunately still only belong to me. Then something awful happened. Papa laughed so hard that I was embarrassed and I was afraid that I would be thrown out of the restaurant and never allowed to return again.

Everl wrote to me that she had a really good time at a dance and that I would not recognize the wallflower of Ellomere again. Do you remember that your former dance school was located in the former court stables and teachers and students would actually compete (successfully) to adapt to the surroundings? The noble dance knight taught his youngest stallions to stamp their hoofs, made sure that they were groomed properly - that was the most important thing for him.  

Harry’s humor is apparently suffering from his corns. Nimm Kukirol, Du fühlst Dich wohl. [advertising slogan: If you use Kukirol/moleskin bandages for your corns, you’ll feel good]. Papa recommends to Hilda “The Ten-point way to health” Surya Namaskar by Rajah of Aundh. Do you remember when you came back from Istanbul and you did that traction everyday? I laughed about it at the time because the illustrations on the title page looked like the people were looking through their knees to see what was making their ass itch.

May God make sure your humor stays with you because you need it. Even though some of the letters which you will be getting from me don’t sound as cheerful as usual, being in the doldrums is not a universal cure. Forget about it, there’s no point in it. At the same time, I ask you to forgive me that I have complained about you only reading my letters in a superficial way. But you must have gotten a lot of my letters which should have given you some insight into the situation. Maybe you are only receiving them now. In any case, quite a while ago I did give you some hints - if you had understood them, you might have been more prepared for things. You might have been surprised about my bombastic style. Maybe that’s also because you’re actually so used to speaking English now. An unclear form of expression is usually not my habit. It is most important to me that my letters arrive.

Live well and don’t be afraid to tell me everything. I am happy when I know that you are doing  good, better, or best.

With many kisses
Helen

---

There is so much to digest in this letter. Helene is very anxious about their situation in Vienna, but even when saying so, she does it in a cryptic way. Perhaps to avoid the censors? As we saw in the story about riding the streetcar with 3-year old Eva, Helene worries about what others might think. I do not know what Helene refers to when she talks about Eva no longer being a wallflower. I found the Earl of Ellesmere who was an early translator of Goethe’s Faust. Addendum: after reading this post, my friend Rose V found the Elmayer Dance School in Vienna, which has been in existence since 1919.

Helene’s and Vitali don’t have access to current news and find ways to amuse themselves reading old newspapers and magazines. Harry loved to do the same, often buying 100-year old illustrated magazines from used bookstores. A Lesezirkel or Reading Circle was a sort of magazine subscription “lending library” where one paid more to get the most recent edition before passing it on. Clearly, they had no money and amused themselves with 40-60 year old editions.

It is wonderful to have a window into their reading material. They were omnivorous and multi-lingual readers. I am not sure which Bazaar Helene refers to. Like Helene, you can virtually leaf through old issues of Harper’s Bazaar through the Cornell University Library. We see that Vitali knew about yoga (the book he recommends is available on Google Docs) and that Harry tried it as a teenager. There really isn’t anything new under the sun.

March 15

According to historian Corry Guttstadt (author of Turkey, the Jews, and the Holocaust), Helene was one of about 20 Turkish women imprisoned in Ravensbrück who were part of a prisoner trade arranged by Switzerland between Germany and Turkey. They were freed and brought to Lübeck on February 28, 1945. On March 15, they boarded the Swedish ship Drottningholm in Göteborg (Gothenburg). According to my grandmother’s letters, the ship made stops to drop off or pick up former prisoners in Liverpool, Norway, the Faroe Islands, Lisbon, Gibraltar, and Port Said before ultimately reaching Istanbul on April 10.

Below is a copy of an article that appeared in the March 15, 1945 edition of the Swedish Newspaper Dagens Nyheter which Corry Guttstadt shared with me. My husband’s cousin Louise Heller provided the translation.

 ‘Drottningholm’ has departed
Massload of 125 Swedish passengers  go to Turkey

Göteborg, Wednesday.

On Wednesday, the day before ‘Drottningholms’  exchange departure, it was a very lively scene in the waiting room of the American Line’s waiting room and concrete shed, where among extensive baggage, customs officers and police authorities had a lot to do, especially concerning the Argentinian diplomats and also the  Swedish missionaries who were leaving. Over a period of time, the remaining group of passengers were placed in huts. At 12.58,  the  group of 37 Portuguese who had arrived on the night train from Hälsingborg were taken from Gothenburg’s Central Station to the boat by bus.

Later on, the Argentinian diplomats arrived, 114 in total, and a group of 17 English people. They had to stay among 65 other people including prisoners, missionaries with their families, 25 Swedish businessmen representing S.K.F.L.M. Ericson and other industries, 19 Swedish diplomats, and 6 Red Cross personnel.    

With the above-named groups of English people and the civilian interns from Turkey, together with the Turkish diplomats who had boarded earlier in the week, the ‘Drottningholn’, had a total of 892 passengers. This number is lower than had been expected, but more than average in normal circumstances. The Swedish authorities are still unclear about the fate of the Irish passengers.

308 people will travel to Liverpool, 222 to Lisbon, 336 to Istanbul, and 26 to Port Said. 

Three Greeks are also present.

Even the Peruvian minister from Stockholm was onboard. He is going to Lisbon to be with his family and then will return to the ‘Drottningholm’. Axel Paulin, from the Swedish foreign department, and the Swiss delegate M. Auber de la Rue will be present for the whole journey. There were 3 Greeks among the group from Argentina. 

In a statement to T.T., the shipping company manager Axel Jonsson spoke about his great satisfaction in how the German authorities have managed this exchange which was carried out as planned. ‘I must thank the custom officers, the police, post officers, and Red Cross personnel for all their help in making the boat line staff making the boarding as easy as possible. I would also like to thank the German sailing expert legation in Stockholm, Dr. Riensberg, for his excellent cooperation.

It is clear that on such a boat as ‘Drottningholm’, which is built for two or three classes, there are problems when we make it for one class only’ Jonsson pointed out. ‘It is difficult to satisfy everyone’s needs, but thanks to the leaders of the various groups, I think that the shipping line has placed the passengers in such a way that they will enjoy their trip home’.

Journey to Istanbul 21 days

‘Fortunately, we also have cargo’ continued Jonsson. ‘This includes 2.000 tons of paper, pulp and various goods which are sought after in Turkey. We will even receive goods from Turkey on our way back, so the ‘Drottninghom’ will be something of a hired boat.

Engineer Nielson, who together with Major Brunes oversaw the work of the Red Cross troops during the exchange, had to his disposal the help of 30 men and 10 women. The work here was not as extensive as previous work with the exchange of the war prisoners when many were sick. ‘Then we had around 20 people who had to be carried and 5 or 6 who had to be transported with ‘gullstol’. [“golden chair” - Two people carrying a person up with flat hands]

Captain Nordlander says that the boat will depart at 6 o’clock on Thursday morning and intends to continue from Vinga a few hours later. The crossing to Liverpool will take roughly 6 days, and then continue on to Istanbul for 15 days. At the end of May, the boat will be back at Gothenburg with about 1,000 German exchange passengers. 

March 14

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

First page of letter

 New Guinea
March 14, 1944

Dear Eva,

Thanks for your letter of February 26, which makes it the fourth one I have received from you. It was a good idea to type the V-letters because the typing is more legible than handwriting, moreover you can get more gossip in this limited writing space of the V-mail stationery than otherwise.

Your description of your new job is very vague, so I still don’t quite know what it is. As far as I could make out, you are engaged in semi-clerical and medical work; it seems like a stuffy job to me.

There isn’t anything new I could tell you. I haven’t seen any action as yet, but I hope I will in the near future; it’s still the old routine. The opinion of the fellows is that we’ll never see action. I remember, back in California, almost everyone of this outfit was dead sure that we’d never go overseas. They were wrong then and I hope they are wrong again.

Have you heard any news from Washington in regards to admitting you into the Army Nurse Corps?

Please tell Paul that the reason for my not writing him is that there is nothing new to tell except what he reads in the family’s letters and that I have to keep personal opinions about things to myself, lest I be known as antagonist. (Don’t I sound tough today, by cracky? It’s just a touch of New Guinea Blues.) You can let him read my letters though. Tell him that I’m deteriorating mentally and ask him what can be done about it. I have a math book and that keeps my brain from failing. Routine work and day-dreaming (anticipating thoughts of going back, planning a future, etc.) has a dulling effect on me. I wish you would send me a book or something like it which has math problems, quizzes, etc. in it. I guess Paul can advise you on that if he is well enough. I was thinking of playing chess, but there is no one here to play with; to play chess with myself doesn’t seem very interesting. I guess you know now what my state of mind is and I hope you can give me some advice. Thank you.

Well that’s about all I got to tell you at present.

Let me know how Paul is getting along. Give my best regards to him and your friends.

Love,
Harry

P.S. Please send me also a good map of the world; I think bookstores have some kind of an atlas for sale which is quite inexpensive. I think I have one among my things at Hilda’s but it’ll be too much work digging it out.

P.P.S. In case you have to show this letter to the post office in order to mail me what I want, here is my order:

1. one or two books
2. a map or an atlas

Wrap the package well because it has a long way to go. Thank you!

---

 We saw an example of a V-mail from Harry in the February 3 post. The National WWII Museum in New Orleans has an interesting article on V-mail.

Apparently V-mail did not speed up receipt of letters – on the last page you can see that it was processed in San Francisco more than a month after it was written.

last page of letter

We learn from this letter that Eva applied to join the Army Nurse Corps. In the March 7 post Harry talked about her considering a job with Standard Oil. Clearly she wanted to get away and abroad as soon as possible.

20-year old Harry was no different than 92-year old Harry: ever curious, devouring books and newspapers, keeping his mind sharp playing games. This letter echoes one written by Paul at the same age during World War I where he complains of boredom and lack of reading material.

March 12

#20

Vienna 12, March 1940

Harry, my sweet boy,

We just got your Christmas greetings and they took 100 days to get here, but were still so happy to get them. We’re fine and if we weren’t separated by the big pond, we would be very happy. Papa promised me a honeymoon trip to Istanbul 20 years ago and he wants to make up for it this year, but I must keep his promise because people usually consider what he promises and expect me to do the same. This childhood dream of the 1001 nights should not fail on my account. I want to see it come to fruition. I will harass Papa until he finally gives in and I will say that I cannot otherwise keep his promise.

I can imagine what you are doing and sometimes I don’t actually know if you’ve really written this or if I just imagined something. Then I take the folder with your letters into my hand and read your letters over and over again. Sometimes by taking a letter for example from January 18th and then the next week I get one from October 21, I entertain myself and it’s like playing with a mosaic or puzzle. Every card is a new piece and the picture becomes ever more complete. I wish I had more pieces, and maybe the mail will bring me greetings from more recent times in the next few days.

There’s not much to say on our account. We are living like Jo’s uncle Milde whose landlady characterizes this so perfectly in just three words: “just eating, gobbling up, …ing.” The middle one is less common for us and we don’t want to talk about the latter. [potty humor?]

When the days get longer, I want to study languages again, but I haven’t decided which one. My German is fair and my English is incomprehensible to most people. In Istanbul, I will learn the language from a Lustraci and a Muezin will teach me singing. But nothing will go into my head. Little Hans is our kitchen master [miserly and avaricious person in folklore - meaning there’s not much to eat?] - Papa looked at his soup bowl and with big eyes, calls of protest from the Danube to Istanbul.

I hear the elevator. Papa must be coming home with a big appetite so I’ll continue later.

It really was Papa. He came with such an expression of a poor sinner that I had to laugh. I’d already forgotten about the soup but Papa thought he should make it up to me and brought a splendid Baltic Sea herring with him. We felt like we had a meal of the gods. Papa was curious about what I was writing and to whom, looked over my shoulder and said I shouldn’t put the cart before the horse. Istanbul will be on the Bosphorous forever. Even though the passports are not here yet, maybe we don’t need to hurry so much to learn Turkish.

Salem Alekum,
Helene

P.S. Harry, did you hear from Yomtov yet? 

In Handwriting on front: Good luck & kisses from Jo

---

 It struck me as I read today’s letter that I am doing exactly what Helene described in the second paragraph – every day brings a new letter or document, sometimes written years apart. Trying to understand Helene’s life based on these seemingly random pages sometimes feels just like putting together a jigsaw puzzle!

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 10

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

This letter is a copy of Vitali’s reply to the eviction notice of February 27. This must have among the many documents and photos Eva and Harry brought with them when they came to San Francisco in October 1939.

Apparently his appeal was granted as he and Helene stayed in their apartment until 1942.

   Haim Seneor Cohen                                  Vienna, 10 March 1939
Vienna, III. Seidlgasse 14/20

 To the court on Landstrasse

Case Number 627/39

                                    Vienna III
Rüdengasse 7-9

For the following reasons, I object to the eviction notice from my apartment, Vienna III Seidlgasse 14/20, that was sent to me:

·      I fall under tenant protection laws and must be given three months notice of termination.
·      I have lived in this house for 19 years without Aryan neighbors refusing to live under the same roof because of my religion. I need a place to live just like they do.
·      In addition, I am a Turkish citizen who is as protected under current state treaties by the German Empire as a German citizen would be in Turkey. 
·      I therefore ask you to declare the eviction illegal.

Sincerely

March 9

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Today’s letter is from soldier Harry Lowell to his sister Eva who was a nurse in San Francisco.

 New Guinea
March 7, 1944

Dear “Angel in White”,

Thank you for your letters, old girl; letters here are as welcome to us as a piece of a boot is to a starved Arctic explorer – even more so.

The news about your quitting your good job had me sort of worried, in view of Tillie’s probable anger. (I like to have “all quiet on the home front.”) Furthermore, your intentions to accept that Standard Oil offer led me to believe that you are becoming more and more like your brother – looney is the word. I appreciate your adventurous spirit because I know I’d do the same thing if I were you. Due to my valuable experiences in the desert and tropics, I am in a position to give you sound brotherly advice; my “cons” outnumber your “pros” by a longshot. I can about imagine what your “pros” are, so lend an ear to the “cons” of your affectionate brother who is always looking out for the welfare of his foolish little sister. (How dramatic, eh? I would be pretty good at writing soap operas don’t you think?) Well, to begin with, life there will be different from what you expect it to be. I know what it is like to be far away from family, friends, and things which in civilization are taken for granted but which, far away, gain a thousand percent in value. It’s a sort of loneliness that overcomes one. To add to your tasks as a nurse, that feeling of loneliness and quasi seclusion from the outside world and its comforts, would be foolish. (As you are not very religiously inclined you are apt to go batty before you know it). That part of the world has nothing to offer in scenic beauty or nice weather; desert may be the only scenery surrounding you and intense heat is the climate there. (I suppose you’ve read about the hardships of the Foreign Legionnaires. That Standard Oil plant may be just as secluded as a legion’s fort.) A further “con” is that a pretty face on a nurse in that corner of the world is a disadvantage rather than an advantage. If the men over there feel the way we lonely soldiers here do – o lá lá – some maternity ward would have plenty to do. (By cracky, I sound like an old grandmother!) Believe me, Eva, one does the most irrational things away from civilization. (The nurses here have the reputation of the WACs of whom I wrote you from Fort Warren.) There are more “cons” yet, but they would fill pages. Tell me in your next letter whether my lecture surpasses that of Paul’s.

Things are about the same as before; New Guinea is a good place to stay away from. If it weren’t for the postal regulations I would like to send a nice foot-long constrictor to Ursula’s mother [Ursula was a friend of Eva’s from nursing school]. I’ve seen quite a few big snakes and rats that were about two feet long. There are many peculiar insects to make life more interesting and itching.

The food isn’t bad at all.

How are things going in San Francisco? I would give a lot to be there right now. Daydreaming is becoming a habit with me.

Have you seen Hilda lately? I hope Paul is coming along fine.

So you are teaching French to Ursula; what is she going to do with that knowledge? I think English will be used instead of French as the international and diplomatic language.

I certainly envy you for the opportunity of going skiing every weekend! Well, I’ll be back soon; it won’t be long now.

Well, that’s about all there is to write at present.

As to my advice, I hope I have described the situation as dark as possible. It should give you something to think about; anyway, think twice before you rush into such an adventure. (Ugh.)

Love,
Harry
(Chaplain)

P.S. Give my regards to everyone.
P.P.S. Please, send me some copies of the Sunday editions of the Examiner and Chronicle.
P.P.S.S. If it’s possible send me also some Readers’ Digests.

        Thank you.

---

This letter gives us a glimpse into the lives of Helene’s children after living almost 4-1/2 years in the U.S. They have been separated from their parents since 1939 and have heard virtually nothing from them since late 1941. I imagine they know their parents have been sent to the camps, but communication was far more difficult and sporadic than it had been while Helene and Vitali were stranded in Vienna. Eva and Harry are unable to do anything at this point to assist their parents.

This letter is filled with the same kind of humor and spirit as their mother’s letters. We learn a great deal about Eva’s life thanks to Harry’s references to her letters.

Eva wanted a life of travel and adventure. We learn here that she was considering a job as a nurse at Standard Oil, presumably in the Middle East since Harry mentions the desert. Her brother was able to get out of San Francisco, but there was no encouragement for her to do so. I have often wondered how different her life would have been if she had been born at a time and place where she was encouraged to follow her dreams.

I love Harry’s brotherly advice. He has adopted a lot of American slang. It is interesting that he talks to Eva about what it’s like to leave everything and everyone behind to go to some remote location. Of course, that’s exactly what they did together in coming to San Francisco! My mother’s experience of American young men was not positive, and his advice would not have made her any more trusting. It’s no wonder she ended up marrying an older immigrant from Europe.

Below Eva’s 1943 nursing school graduation photo. She is at the far right in the front row (a bit out of focus).

March 8

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

# 25

Vienna, 8 March 1940

Harry my boy,

Yes, I got your illustrated letter from January 22 and from February 22 (the latter arrived 5 minutes ago) and I’m very happy. Every letter is read aloud several times. Even those who aren’t that involved would pretty much have to memorize it.

The milk of the US and the pious thoughts - I’m so glad that you have given up the American habit of chewing gum. The lion’s share I know from your sister to whom I express heartfelt thanks. If she helped you in your attempt to give up this habit by calling you the term of endearment “Pig”, she was wrong. As far as I can remember my studies of science, this tasty animal which delivers ham to us is not a ruminant. If you should fall back on your old habits, she should remember this.

The loss of your mustache apparently wasn’t a problem. Have you forgotten that promised me a picture when it grows back? Now you have taken it off without us getting to meet it. When you’re growing this male attribute which I find unattractive - if you stop that, then there must be all sorts of surprises awaiting us when we see each other.

I’m a little jealous that the stories of Mouffle’s meat rations correspond to ours but I would be happy to switch places with him as far as the quality goes.

Now there’s not much new to report. It’s still freezing cold. In the Prater Park, the trees aren’t blooming yet wine is not growing yet, the first harbingers of spring are a pair of flies who apparently intended to come into our kitchen. I don’t think I was very polite to them. At least its still a little warmer. I took off my third pair of stockings and am only wearing two pair now, one from rubber and one from a wool-like substance which is not really following the Palmers’ model, which is my main concern.

We are worried about San Francisco, but then we go to the movie theater on the corner and see a Wild West film. There may be some little bit of California to see there - thievery in the Pacific or cut down one of those giant 1000-year old trees. Whatever. We are not going to this as a student of gangster-ology, but just to be entertained.

Tonight the king of Iraq gave us passports so we could visit you. Unfortunately, that was just a dream and he’s dead anyway and his resurrection is fairly unlikely.

Until we get the next illustrated news, we will get some news without pictures and I am looking forward to that. You haven’t gotten any letters for a while? He, Hi-Hu-Honey-Harry-Bubi, I am writing until my fingers fall off. Do let us know what letters you have received and I will let you know how many letters I have. You won’t have much of that but to the extent that there’s anything interesting to say I will repeat what I said.

My beloved sugar baby, let your heart’s desire guess what you want and give up your philosophizing. It will just give you a bald spot, just ask Paul. No sense in asking Papa about that, because he’s the ultimate anti-writer. However, he is always on the lookout for the mail carrier so that he can get hold of your letters first.

Long final kiss (buuuuuuuuuuuu…ssi),

Mutti

---

First of all, notice how this letter is virtually illegible – the paper is thin and delicate. Helene has typed on both sides of the page with no paragraph breaks to save on postage.

Harry would periodically send “illustrated letters” to the family. He was a talented cartoonist, able to give a sense of a person or place in just a few pen strokes. Unfortunately, we only have a single example of one of these letters which he sent from Istanbul in 1939 — we will see it later in the year. I wonder whether some of them didn’t survive the censors which meant that fewer of his letters arrived in Vienna, while many more arrived from Eva. On the other hand, Eva was by far the more reliable correspondent.

In a letter filled with affection and humor, Helene still conveys her and Vitali’s discomfort - the lack and quality of food (Hilda’s dog Mouffle eats better) and the cold (the trees are still bare and she’s wearing two pairs of stockings).

It’s interesting to see what they learned of California – mostly through westerns and newsreels. I wonder what news they heard that made her anxious about San Francisco?

My husband mentioned to me recently that he was surprised that by the absence of Vitali in the many letters we have. Although Helene mentions Vitali often, it is extremely rare to see his writing. Today we have our answer — Vitali was a poor correspondent. He could be relied upon to mail and fetch letters, but he left the writing to his wife.

March 6

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Nr 79                           Vienna, 6 March 1941

My dear, dear children! It’s a rainy day without mail. I’m done with my work for the day and I don’t know any better way to end the day than to have a conversation with you. It’s not easy because between yesterday and today nothing important has happened here and I’m not really in the mood for a chat.

Oh well, the sheet of paper must be filled no matter how much certain ill-treated types resist this. I also have to do a lot of things which I don’t like, or rather I can’t even do what I would like to do. I have often cursed the fact that I never really found time to read a book and if one was recommended to me, I was too tired to enjoy reading. Today everything is the reverse. If I take a book in my hand which was written before the war, I mean the war that we have now, I think “why how unworldly this is”. It is such a restructuring of values that has happened that you almost have to step out in order to keep pace with it. Young people of course don’t get as tired as older people, and training is paramount.

My favorite things to read are your letters. I never really read the kind of novel that appears in installments in a newspaper. I imagined my workload in advance. Now I am punished by this arrogance, because now I am waiting week by week for a continuation like the ladies who were subscribing to the Biela-Zeitung back in those days just couldn’t wait for Saturday in order to read the conclusion in the “sheet” (affectionate word for newspaper) [really, an insult]. They wanted to see if Knight Iwan and Ida sat holding hands. What are lion ballads [play on the name Löwy?] compared to this 75-stanza long murder tale which our girl would always start when there was at least six weeks worth of ironing to do? I could sit for hours in the warm kitchen with my doll in my arm and listen to them. To the credit of the Biela-Zeitung, I must say that those kinds of novels never appeared in it and just like yesterday old Ida the gossip [Helene’s older sister] who would walk with me ran after to ask to be told if the two in the story would get along or not. Did people have problems then? Was there really a time when a fruit seller really had nothing better to do than to imagine if she was going to get into a fight with her boyfriend or not?  Actually, not much has changed, just that nowadays you have to sit instead of making war [making a put with different meanings of krieg/kriegen] . When will the war end and when will the produce sales lady take an interest again in whether they are going to fight or not? Let’s hope for the best.

To thank Eva for her Boccaccio-esque hospital tales, I will tell some of my own. This is from my collection: “se non e vero, e trovato ben.” [if it’s not true, at least it’s a good story]. These are  quotes from people looking for apartments:

·      “I have been married for five months and my wife is in a blessed condition. I ask the housing office: does that have to be?”
·      “I and my wife are 12 people….”
·      “I can’t get rid of either the shed or my wife.”
·      “A man himself lives in 2 rooms along with his wife and can let her or them go.”

We will not be able to get news from Lizette about how things are until after the war ends. Do you have any mail from her? And when will Robert be with you?

These letters won’t go out until tomorrow. Maybe I can think of something else to tell you, so I’m saving a little room.

Many, many kisses
Helen

[Handwritten]
My dear cutie pies. So I didn’t save room for nothing. I can tell you that letter #5 has arrived (5 February 1941). I am glad that Everl is not in a relationship of affection with herself and she doesn’t regret when she has to work until 10:30. That’s a brave fellow, Everl! I’m glad you have the new racket. Harry-boy, is there no Dischendorfer in Frisko? If not, then I’m not coming. A pedicure is the last rudiment of a plutocratic way of life. Is that a bandage or a small ... the cause of the decoration on your toe? It may be something to take away your corns. The most unfortunate thing is your poor old Pegasus. He seems to be like an old horse-shoer (farrier). Out of love for him, you must keep a lookout for someone to replace Dischendorfer.

Kiss, that’s all
Helen

---

I love how Helene can make even the lack of mail interesting. In this letter, she takes us back to her childhood in Bilin in Bohemia. She acknowledges her snobbish attitude toward popular serialized literature, telling her children that she’s now having her comeuppance as she waits with bated breath for each new missive from them. She assures us however that her father’s newspaper, the Biela-Zeitung, didn’t publish that kind of lowbrow literature.

I don’t know whether Helene refers to a specific story when she mentions Knight Iwan. If so, my guess would be that she chose that tale because his beloved had the same name as Helene’s sister – Ida. In many of her stories, Helene describes Ida as a bit of a tyrant, taking life very seriously and never letting her baby sister do what she wanted. Helene describes her revenge in a companion letter she wrote to her nephew Paul which was sent in the same envelope as today’s post. That letter is excerpted in an earlier blog post where she relates the story of how she tricked her sister into believing that she’d taught young Paul how to read.

I was unable to determine who or what Dischendorfer was. Perhaps a pharmacist or chemist? Also, I wonder whether the quotes from apartment hunters were true or quoted from a humorous article.

Despite the light tone, we learn one very disturbing piece of news — that Helene and Vitali are no longer able to communicate with Lizette and his other relatives in Istanbul.

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.

March 4

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

This long letter to Harry was written over the course of two days. Words in italics were written in English in the original letter.

---

                                                                        Istanbul, 3 March 46

My dear, dear He-Hi-Ho-Hu-Harry,

I am so happy, so unspeakably happy to get mail from you and to know what one lives for. My happiness laughs out of your eyes. Everl’s face hasn’t changed as much as my piano-dissecting, washhouse-key-destroying, tooth-knocking-outing, not-wanting-to-learn-anything useless rascal, Harry. For the sake of the great services he has shown the U.S.A., I will forgive him for all this.

From Ebi, I got one of her patented telegram letters two days ago and she hid from me what her photo revealed, that she will need me soon. How vain mothers are, even when they think they’re being clever.

People have mothers or they don’t, but they’re not really necessary now in the time of the atom bomb. It’s no longer the modern style to write long letters I know, but I am not going to follow this trend any more than I did those of wearing yellow-orange lipstick or vermillion nail polish - I didn’t do that either. My son-in-law I am sure I will like very much. Here I sometimes see American newspapers with the picture section. What is wrong on it? The happy Goldsmith family photo is incorrect – it says that he drinks and she doesn’t. (I am upset about it.) And that she smokes and he does not. (I am even more upsetter)

Harry, what you all suspected is right. In this I recognize that you are more the children of your father than mine. You are very intelligent, but in one point you lack Vitali’s spirit. Letters which cannot be delivered remain at the main post office for three months before they are sent back. In case there is a demand, your letters would have been presented in a packet. Doesn’t matter! As long as we were together, I never thought that I could become old. I thought that I would always remain young with you, always understand your tricks and jokes. Papa’s sparkling temperament contributed a lot to that. I believed that nature would forget to have me get old. Sometimes in the autumn when November storms caused the leaves overnight from the trees on the Ringstrasse to fall, I sometimes saw one or two trees that still had their green leaves and it looked as if they were strong enough to weather the winter storms. But that was just the appearance of it. A few days later they were just as bald as all the other ones. I lost my green leaves and I am so glad that you still love the Helen-tree that has lost its leaves. Inside I am not really that old; and if you want to decorate me like a Christmas tree, nobody will see on me what kind of storms I survived on the Lüneburg Heath [where Germany surrendered May 4 1945, a three-hour drive from Ravensbrück] and on the Sea of Marmara [Istanbul].

Now, however, let’s get to the matter at hand. Every month transports leave here directly to America. Of course, soldiers are taken first. Some ships have a policy of not taking women on board. Thousands of students are also waiting for a spot on a ship. I don’t dare think about the possibility of flying. Everl thought I wouldn’t want to fly. Really? Didn’t I go through training for that with you on the Hochschaubahn [roller coaster in Vienna’s Prater]? I would, if I had to, dare to take this trip in a herring barrel. A good thing that came out of the “University of Nazi Germany” is this: Nobody is afraid, nobody who survived it knows fear. The only fear is fear of yourself, in other words, the fear of fear. It is as if someone who suffers from insomnia is tired and sleepy, lays down and the fear of not falling asleep means that he does not fall asleep. You advised me to go to the American Consulate and the Vice Consul is a “charming” person and he showed me the same consideration that you were shown at the Vienna Consulate back then. I was armed with your letters and at your advice, I will ask Yomtov to accompany me to the consulate. If the result is negative, I will send you a telegram with the request to contact the General Consul about the matter by telegraph.

I will, as Papa would say, take the matter into my own hands. Up until now I had to let the Joint Committee take care of it. But I believe, little Harry, that Yomtov and I will manage to take care of this. As I said, if not, we will send a telegram.  

Since November I have been in touch with Robert. You cannot imagine how much moral support he has been for me. His dear devotion really gave me some courage. From March to November I got, other than 2 telegrams from Everl, no mail. Thank God that this bad time is over, and I hope I will soon find out from the Red Cross where Papa is living.  

I was shocked by the death of Nathan. Poor, poor Hilda! I have not had the courage to send my condolences to her by letter. I wrote her several times, I also wrote to Bertha and Tillie.

Also, in Vitali’s family there have been some accidents in the last two years. As his youngest sister was visiting F, she suddenly, without any indication that she’d been ill, died. A brother-in-law of Ida Cohen jumped off the tram and ended up under a car and he was fatally injured. The daughter of Onkel Bondi got married when she was 17 years old. She was supposed to be a real beauty, and this is why she could marry without money. You know that this is only possible once every four years on a leap year. At age 18, she had the first baby, which was 9 months old in August. A second was on the way and the mother-in-law forced her to do something about it. She obeyed. 24 hours later, she was dead. Vitali’s brother is crushed. I did not know this niece, but I was also very concerned. I heard that there might be legal repercussions.

In the first months that I spent in Moda, I got quite a few visitors. But then I lived in Burgaz and then in Balat, both places which are hard to get to. When someone wanted to visit me, I was usually somewhere else, and I could hardly blame anybody if they don’t have a taste for this hide and go seek game. — Tomorrow, Monday, I will sneak out to Stamboul. I will see if I can get away with it. While I am writing to you, I am looking every now and then at your pictures. Is the young lady really my Everl, and isn’t she ashamed to be in such an intimate position with a man I do not know? And is the handsome young man who looks like a well-paid film star really my product? What is Paul doing? Why doesn’t he let himself be heard from? What is new with the Zentners and the Schillers? I am asking too many questions now all of a sudden, but you had a long quiet period from me, so I won’t even excuse myself for doing this. I greet all. Please say hello to everyone from me, including Robert, and tell him how much I thank him.

Harry, I hope the sky doesn’t fall which would rob me of my great fortune of being with you again.

I kiss you
Helen

                        4. March 46

My dear little boy,

I read through what I wrote yesterday and I find that I didn’t go into enough detail about the most important points. Enclosed is a copy of a letter to the consulate. You see that I have made mention of the fact that you are or were a soldier. I don’t know if it was September or October. I think in October I got a letter from the San Francisco Committee for Service to Emigrées with a notification that my affidavit was dispatched on the 23rd of July and that I should get in touch with the consulate immediately. That happened after various reminder letters sent on my part and by the 15th of November, 1945, my papers were in order. At the beginning of November, we refugees moved from Moda to Antigoni. Our situation in life became much worse, and because of the worsening of our situation, the painful aftermath of the Kazet [aka KZ – the German word for concentration camp], and the constant worry about Papa, and of course about you, made it possible for me to go to Balat to a Jewish hospital for the poor. The only way you could survive that is with humor and iron will power. I recovered quickly and I would have been able to leave 14 days later, but the boss of the committee to stay as long as I could until they could find a better shelter for me. My living costs would be covered by the Joint until my entrance into the hospital. Because of this, I was assigned not to Joint but to the Cultus [sp?] community as their responsibility. Since I wasn’t costing Joint any money, it wasn’t important for the men here to worry about my case. They just forgot about me. On the 2nd January 1946, I left the hospital. All papers and my exit visa were ready. Suddenly, they got the idea to ask specifically of me money for the passage. I can’t really speak about it the way I would want to yet, but the men of the committee know what I think about this. Now that I know that you children are standing by me, I am regaining my courage. You wrote that I would be able to see from the affidavit that Eva works as a Nurse-Secretary. I have not seen the affidavit yet. The American substitute for a passport and the affidavit will be issued to me, but not until they tell me which ship I will be taking. At the consulate they told us that the Joint is getting the ship seats. Joint told me that the consulate would be dealing with the seats that are free first. Isn’t that cute? Isn't that right? The actual value of the consulate in Vienna - I found out about that when I was on the Drottninghölm where I had the time and opportunity to do some studies. I have to go. I want to go to Stambul, that is Pera, to the Consulate.

Kisses
Mutti

---

At first, I wasn’t going to comment on this letter because it’s so rich and can stand on its own. As I thought about how much information and feeling is packed into a few pages, I wanted to pause and appreciate.

Helene refers to photos of her children and how much Harry in particular has changed. He was just 15 when Helene had last seen him in 1939, and by 1946 he would have been 22. Eva was already 18 when she left, so was far more recognizable almost seven years later.

Below are photos of Harry and Eva – their Turkish passport photos from early 1939, one of Harry on the ship to the U.S. in October 1939, and one as a soldier in the 1940s with “laughing eyes”. I imagine this the photo of Eva and her husband Ludwig that Helene mentions – she holding a cigarette and he a glass. It’s possible that she was pregnant – Helene certainly thinks so. Eva suffered several miscarriages before I came along.

I imagine that Helene is referring to the photo of Eva and her husband Ludwig below – Eva holding a cigarette and her husband is holding a glass. It’s possible that she was pregnant – Helene certainly thinks so. Unfortunately, over many years Eva suffered several miscarriages before finally successfully having a child (me).

Looking at the letter from the beginning we learn something new every few sentences – the letter has few paragraph breaks – I have added them for clarity.

We learn that:

·      In the second sentence, Helene summarizes Harry’s childhood antics in just a few words – my mother and Harry often joked about his dismantling the piano when he was a child. Of course, he was not able to put it back together so it ended up being an expensive experiment! Perhaps Harry is playing on the same piano in the photo below:

·      Although Eva wrote to her mother about her marriage and sent a photo, she provided very little information about Helene’s new son-in-law.

·      Helene sent many letters to her children but didn’t have the correct addresses for them so were not delivered (and eventually returned?). She bemoans that her children did not think to go to the post office to see if anything was waiting for them – Vitali would have done so. At least in the Vienna of her memory, mail got to its recipient even when the address was mysterious. This must have been awful for Helene who was finally “free” in Istanbul and able to write to her family, yet heard nothing from anyone but her nephew Robert in England.

·      After all she has been through at the hands of the Nazis and in Istanbul, Helene has aged and no longer looks or feels as young as she once was. In Vienna, being a mother and married to charming Vitali who always kept her spirits up, she was able to feel that time stood still.

·      The logistics and challenges of getting to America – Helene is willing to do whatever it takes to finally be reunited with her children.

·      There have been many family tragedies, including the death of Hilda’s husband and deaths of several members of Vitali’s family. We see the effects of abortion when one of Vitali’s nieces was “forced to do something about” a pregnancy. Interesting to see abortion discussed in a letter – it was such a taboo subject when I was growing up that I couldn’t imagine someone writing about it. Was Helene more willing to talk about difficult things, especially after all she’d been through? Was it the result of her being the daughter of a journalist who sought to tell the truth or the fact that she and her husband were valued freedom of thought and lived a bohemian lifestyle? Interesting that Helene was Bohemian in both senses of the word – someone from Bohemia and someone who lived an unconventional lifestyle compared to those of her neighbors.

·      Helene has little freedom in Istanbul and must “sneak out” to take care of business. Because she has been moved several times in Istanbul, relatives cannot find her to provide company and support.

·      Helene had been in contact with a Jewish organization in San Francisco.

·      After all she’d been through, Helene suffered what would have been called a “nervous breakdown” and was hospitalized for a few weeks. The Joint, the Jewish organization that had been supporting her stay in Istanbul, encouraged her to stay longer so that they would not have to pay for her lodging. She finds herself yet another kind of prisoner. For someone who had led an independent life and supported herself since she was 16 years old, these past years of powerlessness, loss, and endless bureaucracy must have been unbearable. Every time she thought she’d overcome a hurdle, another higher one was placed in front of her.

March 3

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

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

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

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

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

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

—————

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

---

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

Vienna, March 3. 1941

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

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

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

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

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

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

Helene

---

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

Vienna, 3 March 1941

My dear children and Paul!

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

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

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

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

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

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

            Helen

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

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

March 1

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

No 18                                      Vienna, 25 February 1940

My dear children!

I’m rubbing my eyes not because I’m tired and sleepy, but because I’m trying to figure out whether I’m dreaming or awake. Yesterday Germany was a winter fairy tale, today there’s summer sun shining and I even washed dishes with the window open. Our balcony no longer looks like the Adelsberger Grotto, the beauty ended overnight. I don’t believe that spring is here to last but is sending out a harbinger. But it’s beautiful music from the future that I’m experiencing. The day would have to last 48 hours for me to describe all that I plan to do. If I get mail from you tomorrow, then I will be really happy.

When Lisette’s [Istanbul sister or niece?] letter arrived, Papa wrote to Beppo and gave instructions on our paperwork. Let’s hope the thing will get rolling now. I would love to hear the train wheels rolling along. Geographically, I wouldn’t be any closer to you, but the waiting time would be shorter.

Vienna 1 March 1940

My dear, dear Vierel [Eva]. It took 73 days exactly for your 9 September letter to arrive, which told us what you were doing as a student. Since Everl [again, Eva] also told us in her letter from Istanbul that she is doing well in school, you can imagine how happy I am. It goes without saying that I am incredibly worried about you, and when I ask Papa the typical question at breakfast: “What are your children doing now?”, the answer is: “Oh, let them sleep.” A simple question-and-answer game repeats itself at all times of day and is how we entertain ourselves. Otherwise, nothing much is new.

The summer guest performance was no Fata Morgana, showing me by the way people who cross the street are acting. They dance like Lippizanner horses, turn around a few times on their own axis, and then they sit down by their 4 letters [?]. They are like Käthe Hye, touching their fingers to the ground and then stretching upwards to the sky. They do this exercise again and then their morning exercises are over, like they are practicing for summer. It does seem that the coldest weather has gone back to its home. I’m not superstitious, but in any case I’m going to knock on wood [in German: knock on the table]. The new world order seems to have a catarrh, the muscles we swallow it’s seem ill and our throats are turning to stone and there’s acute bronchitis. That does not stop us from saying “Hey Papa Cohen, when are we leaving?” Papa Cohen: “What’s Helen doing?”

I’m writing to you and figuring out when I might hear from you again. The roofs which were having avalanches yesterday now have new snow. I’m afraid that my assumption that winter left may have been wrong. Father just got his degree as an electrician. Our corridor worker had laryngitis probably because of Jo making so much noise and Papa helped her get that back together.

Something important I almost forgot. Please tell me the telegram address for the Zentners. Papa is letting telephone number 3151 and 3152. Then I have another request. About 2 years ago in a beekeeper newspaper there was a notice that California needed beekeepers. Please let us know if this is true and if the lack of beekeepers is still of current concern.

With hearty kisses,
Mutti

---

Today we are back in 1940, just a few months after her children have left Europe. Helen began the letter last month. Rather than sending such a short note, she continued the letter and filled up both sides of the half sheet, saving money on postage and paper. It is another vivid letter, rich in description and literary and cultural references. 

It is confusing that Helene refers to her daughter’s letter from Istanbul as if Eva still was in Turkey rather than in San Francisco. She must be referring to a letter Eva sent to the relatives in Istanbul which they sent on to Helene and Vitali in Vienna. Rather than writing the same information to everyone, family members seem to have shared letters and news far and wide. Much like forwarding an email today, but far less reliable or efficient!

I looked up Wintermärchen, and it has several meanings. Being more familiar now with Helene’s writing than I was three years ago when Roslyn translated this letter, I am guessing she is probably using most of them. The literal translation is “winter fairy tale.” There is a 1918 lithograph with that title by Richard Janthur, a German artist. There is a plant with this name, also known as Elephants Ears, which has colorful leaves in winter and produces bright flowers in early spring. Finally, it is the title of an 1844 satirical epic poem by Heinrich Heine.

According to Wikipedia, a Fata Morgana is a type of mirage seen in polar regions, “named after the Arthurian sorceress Morgan le Fay, from a belief that these mirages… were fairy castles in the air or false land created by her witchcraft to lure sailors to their deaths.”

Käthe Hye-Kerkdal was an Austrian enthnologist. I could find little in English except a journal article she wrote in 1955. There is a summary of her life and work in German in a book of biographies of important Austrian scientists

I assume that Helene is being tongue in cheek when saying that Vitali got a degree as an electrician – presumably she is referring to his helping their neighbor Jo when the person who did building repairs was ill.

Finally, they are trying to figure out how to make a living in the U.S. — If Vitali is not allowed to work in metaphysics, how will they support themselves? They’ve been doing what research they can manage in the days before the internet, recalling an article in an old beekeeper newspaper (!) about California recruiting beekeepers. Clearly, they were open to learning whatever trade might allow them to emigrate.

February 28

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Nr 77              My dear children!                  Vienna, 28 February 1941

I had already pulled out my machine to write to you when your letter #4 of the 29th of January arrived. Apparently at this time a Clipper Letter takes exactly one month to get to you and as long to get to us. I could only wish that the regularity of this would not be interrupted. Even when the news is a little old or even already outdated, at least getting letters on a weekly basis gives a person some peace of mind - the joy of getting several letters all at once does not really make up for it. When the regularity of contact has been disturbed, then a rain shower of letters is always the end of a long period without news.

Apparently, it is not any better with telegrams. We telegrammed you on the 18th of this month: “we request most urgently the affidavit and ship tickets so that we will arrive on time.” Despite this telegram which we sent with a return receipt, we did not receive an answer. I mentioned at the outset that I did not expect to get an immediate answer by cable. If you have never experienced the onslaught or stampede when you are standing in line to send telegrams, you can’t really imagine it. In any case, Rudolf Beck who telegraphed about getting his affidavit which has run out extended, he did receive an answer very quickly. (I think it was the next day after he sent it).

Everl told me that she got my letter of December 27. In this one I cited a refrain from a couplet. The last line is at the moment quite current in Europe in both the literal and the figurative sense. For us, thanks to our fatalistic attitude, the only thing that counts is the Homeric-humorous mood at every opportunity. The only way not to be nuts. Papa asks if you still know your numbers. Think of them when you are taking care of our affidavit matter. Your feather [pen] appears to be doubled over with a back ache.

Papa wants to give you advice which he has after considerable consideration and just like the old pious Mr. Schlumberger who told his sons the greatest secret of his life while he was on his deathbed. Actually, it was the secret of his company. He did not reveal that until as I said he was on his deathbed and made them promise to keep the secret just as he had and not to tell the grandchildren until they were in the same situation, feeling themselves to be at the end of their days. The so carefully and fearfully kept family firm’s secret was: “Sometimes my dear sons, in particularly unfavorable years, you also can make wine from grapes.” Your father is not old Schlumberger but he is still a young healthy man. But you are far away and who’s he saving the secrets of his firm for? So Everl, take your feather, cut the nib with manicure scissors so that the broken point will still work and sharpen it with your nail file, very gently and carefully. The iridium tip of the pen is gone, but the feather will still work. It is best that you do this operation right after one of your anatomy lessons, maybe Papa’s secret will help you be first in your class if you use this method when you are taking out an appendix or perhaps removing a carcinoma.

I would not like to see Harry’s chicken eyes treated in this manner however. According to his verses, the young man must have suffered quite a bit. However, his music critic treatise about a composition of a certain Roy Harris is of an exemplary vividness. It is nice that in the actual sense I cannot really imagine the symphony when there are factory sirens, auto horns, and war reminiscences as his inspiration. However, maybe a resourceful or clever manager will announce when the concert will be repeated. It is particularly to be recommended for those hard of hearing. I determined rather sadly in this matter that the mentioned letter about the music critic which was sent from Istanbul did not reach us.

I have kept all the letters and I will use the day after tomorrow, Sunday, to read through those letters, because we have reached the topic of reading. Quite awhile ago I read a novella, or more correctly a modern fairy tale, a utopia. Once upon a time there was a city, and in that city lived only happy, satisfied, good people. They could be that way because in this city they knew no need and no sorrow. They all had a job which they enjoyed and the only care that they experienced was that they wanted to make sure they could cause pleasure for their fellow citizens until one day the residents of this happy city were overtaken by a terrible end. A terrible illness broke out among them. First it was sporadic but then it became an epidemic. The otherwise so kind and loving population changed in its nature. At first, they had been particularly interested in doing right by everyone else. Now they seemed to want to make things more difficult for others after this happened. The doctors didn’t know what to do about this illness and it was immediately obvious to them that there was indeed an illness. They had no advice and they gave this illness the academic name mania contradicens. They observed the patients who seemed to be suffering from contradiction, and the only thing that they found out was that they realized that the person who was ill wanted exactly the opposite of what he intended to do and could not, no matter how hard they tried and wanted to, figure out which bacteria was involved. They couldn’t even think of a therapy.  

I read this instructive story and came 20 years later to the idea that Papa has caught such a disease. These bacilla have infected him and he always says “no” when he means “yes”. You did live in the east for a while. Did you not notice that the Turks shake their head when they mean yes and the same movement means yes when we do it? “No” is expressed by a slow movement of the hand and a movement made with the head which we would translate as “yes”. Since I have become more enlightened by this reading, I take Papa’s “yes” to mean “no” and vice versa. Especially consequent I am about this when he starts his now very common lecture with “You know, we really eat much too much.” Then I nod approvingly, well, you already know that.

That (have you ever seen such a cramp of a machine?) That you have heard news of Robert I am very happy to hear. Please give him my warmest greetings. He will be in Frisco soon and the 3-leaf clover will become I hope a 4-leaf one. Hilda will soon be able to open a curio collection. So many things to see in one city - there must be a very high entrance price. When Vitali and Helen come rushing in, of course the price will double and will help some relief organization. Oh listen, Papa’s singing! I doubt if his singing is because of your letter of tomorrow morning; I’m not sure if it's that or if it has to do with the oatmeal cakes that he ate a considerable number of this morning while he was giving me that lecture which I mentioned. Is that perhaps the cause of his guffawing? My question about this was answered rather dismissively with “Oh you just don’t understand art!” I think of the malicious mania-contradicens-bacillus and say well, he wants to sing but I have to finish up with this because Papa is hurrying off. I kiss you and I expect an answer soon. I kiss you, all of our dear ones, and any old person who might send me an affidavit in recompense for the kiss. Is America the land of unlimited possibilities, or not?

10000000000 kisses and, all with honor and even more I’ll give you
if you send me an affidavit from somewhere. [a rhyme]

Helen

---

I was astounded by the richness of today’s letter. Every sentence is a gem and seemingly unrelated ideas come elegantly together. Packed into two dense pages we have: observations on the unreliability of the postal service; repeated and even humorous pleas for the necessary affidavit from the U.S.; comments on letters received from Eva and Harry; two different stories that shine a light onto Vitali’s personality and his relationship with Helene; musing on when they will all be together in San Francisco; and through all of this, she gives us a sense of the world they inhabit, where life is difficult, nothing makes sense, and all they can do is try to maintain their sense of humor while jumping through never-ending bureaucratic hoops. She even takes a moment to complain about the quirks of her typewriter when it forces her to remove the sheet of paper and put it back in because the carriage didn’t return properly.

Roy Harris’s Symphony #3 was written in 1939, so I assume that is the concert Harry described in less-than-glowing terms to his mother. You can listen and decide for yourself. 

In the middle of the letter, Helene shares Vitali’s wisdom with his daughter Eva on how to repair a fountain pen, implying that this skill will be transferable to the skills she is learning in nursing school. Repairing pens is in fact something that Vitali and Helene knew how to do. The stationery shop they ran (at the back of which Vitali engaged in his metaphysical pursuits) offered pen repair. You can see in the photo below that on the awning of the shop in Vienna is a picture of a fountain pen with the words “repairs immediately”. The shop window is filled with evidence of Vitali’s work: a Turkish flag, mandrake root, newspaper articles, a set of hand prints. Other than the awning, the stationery aspect of the store seems to have become an afterthought. My grandmother is smiling in the doorway. My guess is that the boy with his back to the camera is Harry. The photo would have been taken sometime in the early 1930s.

February 27

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Summary of document - Italics for language printed on form:

From Regional Court on Landstrasse March 17, 1939

Judicial Termination of Residence

Vienna III district

Request made by Marissa Taussik Wien III.

Stamp from 1st district: Kom.-Rat Hans Plank - housing

Power of attorney from 27 February 1939 issued in Vienna.

Party concerned being terminated:

Chaim Cohen, Wien III., Seidlgasse 14

Person to leave rented apartment # 20,21, 14 days to move out, by March 31, 1939

This should happen by 12 noon on the date indicated or can file an objection to the termination.

Reason: Aryan citizens refuse to live under the same roof as Jews. besides, there is an urgent need for homes for Aryan citizens.

---

Vitali and Helene did not live in the Jewish neighborhood in Vienna. The document tells them they can no longer live with Aryans.

We see that life was already difficult for Vitali (aka Chaim/Haim) and Helene before their children were able to leave for the U.S. later that year. They are no longer welcome in Vienna, so they begin their attempts to leave.

Vitali appealed this order, which we will see next month. According to Vienna city records, he and Helene lived at the Seidlgasse address until June 1942. His Turkish citizenship protected them from the worst of the Nazis until it didn’t.

February 26

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

1st page of 4 page letter

Somewhere in
New Guinea
February 26, 1944

Dear Bertha and George,

Both your letter and your thoughtful present reached me a couple of days ago. I celebrated my birthday aboard a transport this year; as the boat was packed I couldn’t do much celebrating. Many thanks for the candy which came just at the right moment; my tent-mates enjoyed it very much too. I would like to send you some “hand-picked” coconuts, but I’m not allowed to do so.

The country is rather wild around here, I have seen a few snakes, kangaroos, and also wild rats that were as big as cats. There are plenty of mosquitoes and other insects which keep me scratching. Where we are there are many coconut trees which keep us supplied with coconuts. When I first arrived I couldn’t get enough of them, but now I eat them as I would bread; the novelty has worn off already.

Life is rather on the primitive side. We had to cut away a lot of jungle brush to make an area in which to settle down. You’d be surprised how much uncivilized living brings out the hidden talents of the men. We rigged up a wonderful shower; a natural spring supplies the cold water. We have some good carpenters in our company who have done a good job of making our stay here more comfortable.

I have come across a lot of Aussies and they seem to be very nice chaps. When soldiers first came here the natives used to do the washing and ironing for them, but this practice was discontinued by order of some general.

The food is much better than that which I have been used to while I was still in the states. There we had only canned meals, but here we get mostly fresh food.

A couple of weeks ago I went on a hike with some of the fellows. We hiked up a steep mountain in a rocky riverbed; as we reached the top it started to rain and the water rushed down a huge waterfall, branching into smaller falls, finally settling down in the river at the bottom. It was beautiful sight; indeed, it was worth all the hard work of climbing up a mountain of almost eighty-five degrees. On that excursion I wore out a pair of G.I. shoes.

Well, it’s getting late, so I’ll have to close now. I hope you both are well and in good spirits.  

Yours as always,

Harry

P.S. Note my new APO number: 928.

---

In today’s letter to Helene’s cousin Bertha in San Francisco, we get a taste of the life of a G.I.

I always wondered why the U.S. Army would send a native German speaker to the South Pacific, rather than to Europe where he doubtlessly would have been of more use. A few years before Harry’s death, we did an oral interview. Throughout his life, Harry was a positive person, not one for regrets and grateful for the life he had had and the opportunities he had been given. He emphasized how he was a “fatalist” (like his mother) and mentioned several times how he had been saved from certain disaster. One example was that he was indeed supposed to be deployed to Europe. On the day his unit was scheduled to leave, Harry’s train was delayed and he missed his connection. In the end, Harry was assigned to a different unit, ultimately being deployed to the South Pacific. Harry said that most if not all of the soldiers in his original unit perished almost immediately on the battlefield in Europe.

This letter shows Harry’s understated sense of humor, similar to that of his mother. Rather than dwelling on the discomfort and complaining about conditions, he accentuates the positive (fresh food!) and makes wry observations, allowing our imaginations to fill in the blanks.

This photo of Harry and some of the “fellows” shows some of the dense brush mentioned in the letter:

Harry is shirtless, in the back row on the left.

February 25

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Vienna, 25. February 1941

Nr 76              My dear children!

Since Saturday I have been living in a sort of opium high. Of course, I’ve never really experienced even such a normal, usual experience, most certainly not a narcotic one, but I sort of imagine that this is what the effects are like. Because? I got in the post this morning Letter #1 and in the afternoon mail came #3 from January 28. And that after quite a long break.

All the dark thoughts were washed away and I was less worried about the troubles of our relatives. I thought about Chamisso’s “Kreuzschau” which is not very well known, which is why I’m telling you this legend. A pilgrim, tired from long walks, laid down on the side of the road, fell asleep, and had an unusual dream. The Lord God appeared to him and he complained that he has put too heavy a cross on him. The Lord took him into a room where there was nothing but crosses and told him to pick one out. There were splendid crosses made of pure gold. He quickly grabbed at one of those but it was so heavy that he couldn’t even lift it. Wonderful crosses made of marble. He wanted one of those, but the edges of it cut into his flesh. He tried many, many more but none of them seemed to fit him. Quite hidden away in a corner he saw a small plain cross. He grabbed that and it was so easy he could hardly feel it. He decided to take that one with the following words: “Lord, if it be your will, this cross is mine.” Then when he measured it a little more closely with his eye, it was the one he was carrying before. So he decided not to grumble. He picked it up and carried it without complaints [direct quote from poem].

I read your letters and I was happy. How happy I am that Everl is making quite a splash with her talents and that her success is not the result of cramming long nights. Rather that she has some of Papa’s intuition. I feel that Everl will be able to push her wagon home alone. Already in kindergarten, Harry had the stuff to be a self made-man. As far as kindergarten goes, read the passage of letter #61. It is sort of a prelude/foreshadowing to our telegram of the 18th of this month which we would like to get confirmation of. We didn’t think the answer would come so quickly. Because there were so many telegrams before ours to be sent before we got there made us think that it was going to take quite a while until you get ours, if you get it at all. Included is a copy of the current rules of the American General Consulate which I cannot assume you have. As long as we have not had our telegram confirmed by you, I repeat the text: “Urge affidavit and ship tickets so that we can arrive on time.” I hope the cable arrived without being garbled. Do you remember your arrival communique and the confusion caused by its mutilation?

It’s interesting that Everl mentioned poor Hansi’s episode. Paula was here at our house again yesterday after not having been here for quite a while. We remember that I told her the last time she was here about the story of your grief and how she laughed when I described how Harry couldn’t find anywhere lovely enough in the Prater or even in the Stadtpark to bury his little pet bird. And then in the garbage can he found a “Maüseleum.” Just by chance we could all remember the exact day when we were having this conversation – it was the day when Everl wrote the letter. Who could doubt telepathy after that? What do you think about the product of my education? Papa now is willing to post letters on Tuesdays too without complaining. The only comment about this is “What are you going to do when you are in Frisco and the children don’t write to you anymore? You will be without work, you will have nothing to do. No letters to write, none more to read.” The latter activity, reading letters, really does fill up all of my free time. When water for tea is boiling, when the potatoes are becoming soft, when the dishes are drying, I take the last letters to arrive out of my purse and I read through them. I don’t just know them by heart; I know even on which part of a page each word is and on the other hand I wouldn’t have any idea of what I write to you if I didn’t keep a copy. Mostly I do that by turning the carbon paper around.

Say hello to everybody from us. With many many kisses.

            Helen

PARALLEL-CASSE Is Kegelgasse called Körbergasse? I’m not sure.

---

Today, we again see the importance of letter writing and keeping in contact with loved ones. For Helene in Vienna without her children, her entire life revolved around the post. Writing letters, waiting for letters, reading and rereading letters. The mail was delivered twice a day – meaning twice the hope and heartbreak depending on whether Helene heard from her children. Each day without mail felt like a heavy cross to bear. Vitali had been limiting the number of times he would take letters to the post office, presumably because of the cost of postage, but today he relented and is willing to go more often. Helene kept all of the letters close and reread them constantly. She kept carbon copies of her own letters so that she could recall what she wrote.

Included in this letter was the copy of the American Consulate’s instructions from February 19.

This letter makes so much more sense to me now than when Roslyn translated it in July of 2019. Helene refers to other letters she has sent, including a story she told in her letter of January 24 about a 2-year old Eva stubbornly wanting to make her way through the streets of Vienna on her own.

Helene also refers to a story about Harry trying to bury a beloved pet bird when he was kindergarten-age. I had heard part of the story from my mother Eva, one of the few stories she told about her childhood. As adults, Harry would tease her about his mistreatment at her hands. Their version of the story involved peaches and a bird: My mother always loved fresh fruit and at one point she and Harry were given fresh, juicy peaches. She liked them so much that she offered to give her pet bird to her brother if he would give her his peach. They were both satisfied with the deal until the next day when the bird died.

Helene’s point in relating both these stories seems to be to assure her children that she feels less concern for them despite their distance and youth, because they seem well able to take care of themselves, as they’ve each been able to do from a very young age.

A few weeks ago, I transcribed one of Helene’s stories, this one with a mysterious title (many of her titles are a mystery to me – the contents often barely, if at all, related to the purported subject) – Maran. The story is charming, telling the tale of Eva’s tonsillitis, a pet bird given to her as a get-well gift, the subsequent peach-bird trade, the death of the bird, ending with Harry’s heartbreaking attempts to find a suitable burial spot for his beloved pet.

Literary note: According to “The New International Encyclopaedia”, Adelbert von Chamisso (1781-1838) was a German poet and naturalist. He translated much of Homer into German. He had quite a life, joining the Russian polar expedition, staying with Mme de Staël, studying botany, wandering in Bohemia – nowhere near an exhaustive list of his adventures. The Encyclopaedia says that Die Kreuzschau ranked among the “finest in German literature.” The full text of the poem is online in German.

February 22

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Vienna, 22 February 1940

My dear, dear children!

In letter #17 I made the boring daily life responsible for missing the Clipper airplane. Then I missed it because the events were going on and on. You must believe me that I just didn’t get around to it.

On the 18th, I was going to continue my epistle from the day before and decided to create a cozy atmosphere first. I had to use an armchair, an old sofa cushion, a couple of coat racks, and a few shoe stretchers for both men and women. It didn’t exactly get warm – the coal deliverer had left us hanging. But Papa decided that I would be a pyromaniac. While I was trying to have a little talk with our oven, trying to explain that a reasonable oven would realize there was no coal there, but it could eat something else. Our oven did not listen to reason. It made noise. The house manager said that the pipes had burst because of the Siberian cold, so we had no water in the kitchen. That wasn’t so bad, we at least could use the phone and bathroom. Jo came over the next day as usual. Since I was just getting dressed, she told me with Schadenfreude that “the pipes are broken, you may not use the toilet or bathroom.” She said that and just disappeared. Papa played “John Gabriel Borkman” and ran as that guy did with his hands on his back and I tried to let out my feelings. Then I felt a little better. What about the empty rooms? Maybe I could make them into a telephone booth. Well, no sooner said than done, Papa gave up his Ibsen role and we decided not to worry about it anymore and then everything was okay. I heard some steps in the hallway. It was the neighbor mopping the stairway. “When do you think the pipes will be taken care of?” He replied: “Well, I haven’t heard anything about that.” “But you told my friend” “No” - I just had her tell you that you shouldn’t throw anything in the pipes because it would fly into the faces of the workers who are working on the break.” Jo is only alive because she hasn’t shown her face for a couple of days.  

Hurray! Papa has brought me letters from Eva Maria Lowell from January 18, which Lizette gave us on the 16th of this month and in the accompanying letter she again informs us that our thing is “coming along.” I believe our matter is just sitting there. Papa went to the Consulate today so they wouldn’t forget who he is. Again, they told him that we can only get the passports from here if we leave the continent. Maybe the longing of our relatives is so great that they will take care of it for us. So we just sit around and wait. Eva probably has received notice of the 1st clipper letter so it seems like since that should have happened by now, we should be able to get a report soon. You can probably tell how anxious I am to get this. … And Harry-Bubi? Why is he being so silent? Has Pegasus lost a hoof? Famous …figures were made into badges as part of a winter charity collection. They are quite charming and you will enjoy them when I get a chance to send them to you. There will also be a collection of Viennese porcelain figures which represent Viennese types. My box of tricks has quite a few different things which will remind you a great deal of Vienna.

Many, many kisses,
Mutti

This letter was written a year earlier than those we have seen the past few days. Helene’s children have been in San Francisco for about four months and she and Vitali are hoping to follow shortly. We learn from this that their attempts to emigrate went on for well over a year, with Vitali haunting the Turkish and American consulates hoping for assistance. Helene calls her daughter Eva by her full name, because to Helene her name is foreign and unknown – as if her daughter has become a new person in America. Eva and Harry were advised by their relatives in San Francisco to change their last name to something “less Jewish.” They chose the name “Lowell,” probably because it was similar to Helene’s maiden name Löwy.

Jo was a neighbor and I believe Lizette may have been Vitali’s sister or niece in Istanbul. 

John Gabriel Borkman was written by Ibsen in 1896. The Irish Theatre Institute summarizes the play as follows: “disgraced and destitute after a financial scandal and jail, the former director of the bank paces out each day, alone in an upstairs room, planning his comeback. Downstairs his wife Gunhild lives a parallel life, plotting for their son to restore the family’s reputation. The claustrophobia of their lives is shattered once and for all…” The play’s description certainly paints a vivid picture of how Helene and Vitali felt on these cold, uncertain days.

I continue to be amazed at how Helene’s letters from long ago resonate with the times we live in. In the past week, much of the world has been covered in snow, large parts of Texas have been without power and/or water. Much like Helene’s Vienna of February 1940, where they are trying unsuccessfully to burn furniture for heat because no coal was available. An article from the January 26, 2018 issue of the Guardian said that “January 1940 was the coldest month on record for almost 50 years.”

I understand some of Helene’s disorientation at her children's new American last name. It used to be that the main identifying question to make sure you were the person who owned your bank or other account was your mother’s maiden name. For most people, that question is straightforward and they can answer immediately. For me, it was always a head scratcher. My mother had two different maiden names and I would always pause and hope to guess correctly. It made me feel suspect as I tried to answer such a simple question. I wonder how much of that sense of hiding and being suspicious attached to my mother’s everyday existence as she masqueraded under this new last name before she was married.

February 21

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Slightly edited, for clarity:

Vienna, 21, February 1941!

Dearest Hilda! Everybody, I suppose, has a mission to fulfill in this world. Yours seems to be guardian angel to the Lowell-Zerzawy “children”. The last one, Robert, I recommend to you especially. He is such a nice fellow, I love him very much and fate was not always nice to him. I promise you to repay all you have given to my children and to the Zerzawy-boys. Mouffle will have a more comfortable life (if such is possible generally) when once I shall be in San Francisco. My own mission is unknown to me, but I am sure I am good for something and I always think, it should be time to know for what reason the creator saved my life. Don’t be angry, if you cannot understand the sense of this letter. You seek for it in vain. It has been a long time since you wrote to me. Fear of master Paul? Don’t be afraid of his censorship! Tell him, when he scolds you, nonsense is the favorite food of mine and he cannot be so heartless to forbid it. Just now a wave of sorrow came over me, therefore the musical lesson falls away for this time. The next letter I hope will contain one as a sign that my mind is healthy again. I finish these lines with heartiest greetings for you and Nathan. He may forgive me that I made a dovecot of his home – our doves are vivacious, most vivacious sometimes, I know.

I hope to receive a long letter from you soon, and in this expectation I remain yours sincerely

Helen

These are apparently the “few words” she wanted to say to Hilda that she mentioned in yesterday’s letter. The censorship numbers on both letters are the same.

How different in tone this letter is – she expresses her gratitude to Hilda, not mentioning the anxiety she is going through trying to arrange for passage to the U.S. Although Hilda and Helene have never met, they share a kinship as Hilda takes in Helene’s beloved children and nephews. She mentions that Robert has not had an easy life. His mother died when he was 3, his aunt/step-mother when he was 11. One of his brothers died in WWI. At the time of this letter, he was alone in London, trying to make his way and apparently trying to join the family in San Francisco. As I have gotten to know the “Zerzawy boys” through their letters, my heart goes out to them. Life indeed was not easy for them.

Helene again discusses Fate, pondering her purpose in life. As I am trying to show with this blog, I believe her purpose was to communicate to her family and the world about the life she led and the hardships she faced, shining a light on society in the 19th and 20th centuries, and on the plight of Jews in that society. Her father taught her to hate injustice and to call it out when she saw it. She was a woman with a message – it just took a few decades and generations to share her voice with the world.

Aside: I do not know who or what “Mouffle” was – Hilda and Nathan loved dogs. Perhaps we see Mouffle in the photo below?