June 8

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Today we have excerpts from a letter from soldier Harry Lowell who is in training at Fort Francis E. Warren in Wyoming for the Quartermaster Corps to his sister Eva Lowell who is finishing nursing school in San Francisco.

June 8, 1943

Dear Sister,

Well, don’t say it. My locker is stacked with unanswered mail; the reason for that may be attributed to laziness, study, athletics, KP, and other very good excuses.

I have finished my basic training and am attending school for automotive anatomy and motor operations. (How’s your generator?) They really cram stuff into us in a hurry; I have to do some studying every night. I like it very much despite my dislike for the Quartermaster Corps of which motor maintenance & operations is the best branch, I think. Still I would rather be in the infantry.

I have been very busy for the last few weeks; I am on the company boxing team and on the regimental track team which events keep me rather occupied. (In case you don’t know anything about the Army, a regiment consists of twelve companies and the whole Fort has six regiments.) There’ll be a track meet on the sixteenth amongst all the regiments of the post. The sixteenth is the 158th (or so) anniversary of the Quartermaster Corps. Last Sunday there was an inter-regimental contest to select the good men for the regimental team. I am a good man, he he. I’ll be running the mile again; but this time I have a little more practice and I am somewhat more used to the high altitude than I was before….

I guess by now you have moved from the diaper ward to a drier climate. How are you getting along? When are you going to graduate? Do you need money? I do, too.

Today started out with warm sunshine and a June atmosphere; about three in the afternoon, it began to hail like heck. We may expect some snow yet; this will give you an idea of the climate.

It would be awful punishment for me if I were to be stationed here for a while.

In this new company, student cooks prepare our meals. We are their guinea pigs, so to speak. They fed us meatballs today that were so well done that they would have served the purpose of fatally wounding someone if they were used in sling shots. We used to get excellent meals in Co C; but Co F serves us regular slop.

On Sundays a bunch of fellows & I usually go to Cheyenne’s “Hotel” and enjoy civilian steak banquets. It’s good to wipe your mouth on a napkin and eat at leisure!…

How’s everyone in S.F.? What’s the dirt, sister?

As to that picture, all the fellows agreed that it was a good one. You should have seen the other one. You know, that old dopey look.

I think I’d better close now; I gotta go to bed.

 Harry

P.S. In case you have a recent picture, send me one.
P.P.S. Is there anything you want from Wyoming? (Souvenirs, etc.)
P.P.S.S. Note new address; Co F, 1st QMTR

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In my June 2 post, we saw that Harry’s cousin Erich Zerzawy who died as a WWI prisoner of war, seems to want nothing better than the life of a soldier for his younger brother Robert. Harry is enthusiastic about the life of an infantryman, unhappy that he’s been relegated to the Quartermaster Corps. Erich and Harry were different generations, never met, served in different wars and armies, and yet they have the same attitude. I find this very hard to understand, but I am not a teenage boy.

I assume the portrait Harry mentions is the photo he sent to Eva for her birthday. See May 3 post.

June 7

Today we have a letter from Helene to her nephew Paul Zerzawy in San Francisco.

Vienna 7 June 1940

Dear Paul!

You should not without punishment have given me your private address. I will be using it an awful lot, but you will be disappointed because the content of my letters will not please you. I knew that you were able to evaluate my confused letters correctly, and that the children would understand my letters only literally and not read too much into them. Their departure was delayed far too long for me to have no real reason to believe that their young souls might have been damaged by this. There are experiences that one cannot erase from one’s memory. Sometimes they slip into a secret compartment of the brain and then something makes them reappear. The longer the unpleasant memories stay in the brain safe, the better it is for the young minds. So if my letters are perceived and understood by the children in the way that you have described to me, my intention to leave them carefree has been completely successful. As far as your guilty conscience, you should just take some valerian and don’t take things so hard. You have already known about our attitude and our tribulations of life for a while. I went through the school of hard knocks, so I sort of take things quietly the way they come. Now you should not overemphasize the value of things any more than you can that of people. What does it matter when we’ve had to sell our bedroom? We can sleep just as well on a field bed that’s been lent to us and our digestion will not suffer if we no longer have a dining room. I would however have wished that we could have brought our grand piano. Since you three aren’t using it anymore, it sort of turned my former joy into the opposite, but that’s just a matter of mood and one should not be caught up in these waves. My desire to see you again is so vehement that I am determined that our departure will happen soon even though there is not even the slightest reason to think so. Father has his “one gets everything in life which he wishes for intensely.” He always insists that that’s the way it is, even though it doesn’t necessarily happen at the time you want. Whenever that time will happen, it will certainly make me happy. You should not worry about our pecuniary situation. Certainly, neither Vitali nor I have any way of earning any money, but the little that we need to live on we are managing to come up with by selling off the last few items we have in the business and the larger expenses such as taxes and interest are going to be taken care of by selling our furniture. I have already written you once that the Druseidt [?] have found someone to buy their business. Help, such as material help from relatives, I would only want to accept in the most desperate of situations - maybe to help us emigrate, but who knows when that will be. Tomorrow there are new regulations for post with neutral foreign countries. Illegible letters will not be sent so they should be written on a typewriter wherever possible and not be longer than four pages.

I am glad that you are doing well and that you and the children are in such contact. I couldn’t have imagined that in my wildest dreams. Nor could I imagine that you would have gotten used to it so quickly. Please write as soon as you can and think about the fact that the letters have to go a long way and often arrive late and sometimes not at all. 14 days without mail I’ve had just now again. A long time when one is as hungry for news as I am.

See you Paul and prove that you are thinking of us by writing a few letters even if it’s just something you add to the children’s letters.

In love that knows no bounds

Your
Helen

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Helene’s first few lines are interesting when considering Harry’s illustrated newsletter from 1939 that was posted yesterday. Harry’s tone was light and hopeful, an excited teenager enjoying the adventure and possibility of being in a new place. Helene makes clear that she and Vitali have done everything they could to shield their children from the worst of her worries. I don’t know how successful she was, but the Harry and Eva at least put up a brave face in their letters to her.

This letter was written in 1940 and already they have little way of making money. They are selling their furniture and hoping to leave for America soon. It’s hard to imagine what they lived on in Vienna for the next three and a half years. It must have been such a relief to Helene that her nephew Paul was in San Francisco and could keep an eye on his young cousins.

June 6

Today we have a treasure from Harry, an “Illustrated News Monthly” dated June 7, 1939 from Istanbul. Helene mentions receiving one of his illustrated letters in her letter of March 8 1940. This is the only example I have of these letters. Perhaps inspired by his mother’s love of language, her father’s newspaper, and his own cartooning ability, it seems that Harry sent these to relatives on a somewhat regular basis.

Harry labels this as the “New York Edition” so he must have sent it to Helene’s nephew’s Paul Zerzawy who had arrived in the U.S. in April of 1939 and was trying to find work and make a life in New York.

Harry packs in a huge amount of information and sense of place in two brief pages. 15-year old Harry includes 2 self-portraits showing how much he’s changed in a few short months, growing both leaner (from walking constantly around Istanbul) and taller. He gives a travelogue including “photos” of the sights and teaches some Turkish language. His humor and sense of fun shine throughout. 

Below are three photos taken several months apart. The first is his first Turkish passport photo to enter Istanbul, I believe the second is his passport photo from the summer, August and the third was taken on board the S.S. Rex in October 1939 as he and Eva made their way to the U.S.

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June 5

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Today we have a letter from soldier Harry Lowell to his sister Eva Goldsmith in San Francisco.

 Philippines
June 3, 1945

Dear Sis,

I am writing this letter from a little restaurant near town. I have chosen this spot because I don’t want to be disturbed or influenced by the monotony of my usual army environment. Here it goes – a letter from your escapist brother. 

First of all I’d better apologize again for my laxness. To come to think of it, I haven’t even congratulated you on your marriage and, believe me, I have begun to consider myself an inconsiderate, heartless scoundrel of the highest caliber. On May 5 I suddenly remembered your birthday but could do nothing about it, save be with you in thought. I am trying to convince you that I have not forgotten you or anybody else even if I hadn’t written for some time. In my spare time I turn philosopher and as such cannot force myself to sit down and write letters. I appeal to your good heart again and ask your forgiveness. Granted? Thank you. (I don’t imagine your husband has a high opinion of me; I leave it to you to tell him that I am not as bad as I seem to be – oh yeah?) So much for that.

I guess you know how I felt when I received Tillie’s telegram; from it I perceived that all was well. I thought so until I found out from one of your letters that all wasn’t as well as it should be. I trust that all is well now. My mind is full of plans for the future and I can hardly wait for the day of our reunion. It has been a long time. 

I know you are doing all you can and I feel helpless over here. As far as ever getting a furlough is concerned, I may as well forget all about it. No way. Another close friend of mine in my unit applied for an emergency leave because his mother had been given only a few months to live. After one month of red tape he received a negative reply signed by some second lieutenant in supreme headquarters. You can see how easy it is to get home; count me out for another two years. (For your information, I have only 54 points as of today.) I have submitted myself to fate. C’est la guerre et c’est la vie!

Well, I might as well tell you about our odyssey. We left New Guinea in an overloaded Liberty and roamed the sea for over thirty days; the journey was spiced with rumors, plenty of cussing, and poker games.

I have seen quite a bit of Manila and found nothing but debris; from the looks of the ruins, Manila must have been a pretty city at one time. Many towns have been burnt to the ground; passing through these places the first time I felt a feeling of guilt for being a member of civilization that has permitted wars to cause such destruction. America is lucky not to feel the immediate blows of war. 

I hope the world will wake up this time and prevent wars in the future. Some people say that wars cannot be prevented and that there will always be wars (according to the Bible). I still maintain that wars can be prevented; that is our problem from now on. (I am still the unshakeable idealist.) I haven’t read any of your opinions on the subject in your letters lately. I’d better cut short my idealistic doubletalk and proceed with the description of my travels. Passing through a lot of towns our little convoy was greeted by all junior members of the population. Their battle cry was “Victory, Joe”; variations of that battle cry are: “H’llo Joe, gimme a cigarette; Victory Joe, chewing gum, chocolate;” etc. Some of these kids are quite cute and I always grow softhearted and play Santa Claus giving my candy rations away.….

I am getting my fill of bananas, pineapples, mangoes, and other tropical fruit which are not known in the states. In spite of all these tropical delicacies, I’d still settle for a T-bone steak and a baked potato (and apple pie, maybe).

Incidentally, how has married life affected your cooking? Don’t be surprised if I barge in on you one of these years and I won’t want to be disappointed then. You know my preferences; and don’t forget that gallon of milk!

Well old girl, that is enough for today. Give my best regards to all and announce to everybody that I have emerged from my epistolary hibernation and that I will start a new season of vigorous correspondence. Amen.

Love,
Harry

P.S. Tell your spouse that I think, he should have taken me in consideration before he married you. Or does he believe in taking the bad with the good?

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A lot has happened in 1945 while Harry was serving in the South Pacific. His sister got married on his birthday in January. A few months later, they learned that their mother had been released from Ravensbrück and was now in Istanbul and needed financial assistance to join her family in California. In the May 17 post, we saw that Harry gave Eva power of attorney and access to money to help. He feels powerless so far away and sees no likelihood of getting home soon. He mentions having 54 points. According to an article on the National WWII Museum in New Orleans website, a soldier needed 85 points to be allowed to return home.

Harry describes his journey from New Guinea to the Philippines on a Liberty Ship. One of the last remaining Liberty Ships, the Jeremiah O’Brien, is docked at Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco.

As I read Harry’s description of the ruins of Manila, I wonder how much he was thinking of how his own home in Vienna had been affected by the war. No wonder he was so empathetic.

June 4

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This letter to Helene’s nephew Paul Zerzawy must have been sent with the letter we saw yesterday that she wrote to her children. They both have the same Clipper number 103. She tells much of the same story but in a different tone. As Helene sees the end in sight and a family reunion in San Francisco seems likely and imminent, she takes a “farewell tour” of her beloved Vienna. Click on the links below to join her on the tour.

Vienna, 3 June 1941

Dear Paul! Thank you, a thousand thanks for your telegram of May 31. You should not believe that I have been writing alarm letters to you when something doesn’t go the way I want. You know me better than that. But when I wrote you that letter which you answered with the cable, our situation was worse than bad and the information that we had gotten from the religious community and from Prinz Eugenstrasse [likely the Turkish Embassy which is currently at Prinz Eugen Strasse 40] were more than hopeless. In the meantime, you will have received my letter from May 13 in which I was so joyous and which I told you there had been an amazing turn in our situation, as far as our possibility of leaving goes. That the American consulate had broken its silence and had let us know that everything was all right and mention that our matter is proceeding normally. It is happening too slowly for us which is understandable, but I believe that it is the last phase of our obstacle course but we will win the derby.

Yesterday, we began making visits to say good-bye. We went to the Lusthaus and went down the Hauptallee, which still has floral candles as decoration. We walked by foot to the Praterstern. We went down the middle of the street since we wanted to have the most incomparably beautiful view of the Tegetthoff monument in front of us and we had the view of the Lusthaus behind us and from time to time I turned around to get the panoramic effect. Individual cars containing Firmling [Catholic children becoming confirmed] were decorated with flowers were going to the Lusthaus, but otherwise it was just the usual hustle and bustle that you find on Pentecost Monday. I said I really wanted to take a trip on the Riesenrad [ferris wheel] and see the Prater and the Viennese surroundings in this way. I remembered enjoying the sight with you for the first time. I went to the places that my children enjoyed so much before. I said good-bye to the Prater, and I also want to see Schönbrunn, and Kahlenberg  and Cobenzl still remain, and I plan to spend next Sunday doing that. The rest of the time is busy with all sorts of preparations. It takes an awful lot of time and nerve. There was an interruption caused by the Pentecost holidays and hopefully we will make up for that and we hope that the errands we need to do as far as the paperwork that will come from Berlin - we hope that will arrive. Then it’s a matter of getting up on our feet and running, flying. The days are getting longer and one can convince oneself that everything is going more quickly and more easily. This week there is a very important matter to take care of, but I will tell you more about that when I’ve got the problem solved.

I no longer ask how you’re doing, what you’re doing or what you hear from Robert. For one thing I never get any answer from you and for another I hope to get these answers myself in person, as Vitali has advised me when I was so long without any news and kept whining.

Farewell Paul, and do expect to receive us soon.

My greetings to the Zentners, Schillers, Firestones, and to Erwin Fulda, for whom I’ve only made trouble so far, even though all that he knows about me is that I exist.

My dearest hugs to you

Helen

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June 3

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Vienna, 3 June 1941  

My dear children!

Since you have been away from us, two-day holidays are a thorn in my eye. Even though I can’t say that they are stealing your letters from me, they are certainly guilty of making them quite delayed.

Yesterday my anxiety drove me to the pleasures of the Prater. As long as one looked up at the sky, it was a lovely view, but I could see ancestors, grandmother, mother and child, not dressed, but on the meadow. The Wurstl prater [amusement park part of Prater park] has changed its appearance. Several new places of merriment have been constructed, which I really wasn’t all that interested in. I was only interested in those carousels that used to be so much fun for you. At the Eisvogel [restaurant in the Prater], I wanted to buy a balloon to give it to a child in our building, but they wanted 4 RM. That was too much for me and I suppressed my maternal instincts. Yes, if it had been for Eva-child or Harry-boy I would have gone for it. Papa invited me to go to a restaurant, the one where we had eaten on the last Pentecost holiday. But I decided I didn’t want to, I said no, and we went home.

Today Papa is busy trying to give our matter a nudge, but I don’t really expect any success with this because we can’t do anything of any real meaning since we have some documents that are not here yet from Berlin. It seems like every day there’s a new edict which changes all of the preparations we’d made before. Yesterday, they said that we could take 50kg/person into the train compartment, today they say it’s 30kg. And when you consider the tare weight - our cases weigh about 2-8kg - you can imagine how hard it is to choose what to pack first. It’s clear that all the things which have the smallest value for us must be left behind in favor of those which we will really need. We pack it all in there, we take it all out again. Of course, we have differences of opinion - Papa always thinks something else is important from what I think and he doesn’t want to get rid of any of his winter clothing. But those are just symptoms of travel fever. When we hear the call: “San Francisco, all aboard,” we will even leave our hand luggage there and get on the train. Packing is just sort of a way of distracting us to make the waiting seem shorter.

See you later my little bunnies. I hug you kissing

Helen

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This letter to Eva and Harry is filled with nostalgia, hope and longing — yet fear that things might not work out looms large.

As time goes by, like Helene I find myself walking streets that I’ve walked thousands of times and feeling the presence of people who are no longer there. Layers of the past overshadow what I see in front of me.

We see more of the cruel bureaucracy taunting Helene and Vitali as they plan to leave. Like their lives in Vienna which have become ever more constricted over the past few years, their luggage allowance shrinks each time they think they have a plan.

June 1

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Early Years/High school in San Francisco

When Eva and Harry came to San Francisco, they each were sent to live with a different relative and attended different high schools. They saw each other on weekends, sometimes at family dinners at Tillie’s home. I don’t know why the decision was made to split them up. It always seemed heartbreaking to me that no sooner were they separated from their parents than they were separated from each other. Perhaps it was because of space or economics, or perhaps the relatives thought they would adjust to speaking English and living in another country if they didn’t have each other to lean on.

Eva lived with Helene’s first cousin Bertha and her husband George Schiller. They were in their late 60s while Eva was a senior at Washington High School. At this time, the Schillers’ son Arthur was almost 40 years old and living in New York. Not only would Eva have experienced culture shock, but a large generation gap as well!

Harry was sent to live with Helene’s first cousin’s daughter Hilda and her husband Nathan Firestone. Since he was under 18 years old, he was considered their ward. Hilda was just 35 years old and Nathan was 50, so he was living with people younger than his parents. Harry attended Mission High School.

Eva graduated from Washington High in June 1940 and Harry from Mission High in June 1941. Although she was already 18 years old, Eva hadn’t graduated from high school in Vienna (for their last few years in Vienna, they were not allowed to attend school) and she needed to complete a year of high school in the U.S. to earn a diploma. Harry must have placed into a higher grade than usual for his age, because he graduated from high school a year later at the age of 17.

I don’t know if it’s my imagination, but to me Eva looks very different in her high school photo from her American classmates. Most of their faces seem happier and more carefree, while she seems very severe. Her dark blouse adds to her seriousness.

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 During his first year at Mission High, Harry was interviewed for the school paper:

Eva and Harry playing tennis on the courts at Mission High in 1941:

May 30

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Today’s letter from Helene in Vienna to her nephew Paul Zerzawy is from May 30, 1939, several weeks after his arrival in America. Her children Eva and Harry are in Istanbul establishing citizenship to be able to get Turkish passports to emigrate; Helene is experiencing her first relatively brief separation from her children.

Vienna, 30 May 1939

My dear Paul! We got your letter from the 9th and started right away to acquire the brochures you asked for. We enclose those which we could get here from Breitkopf & Härtel [musical publishing house]. And we could get some from Frieda Benninghoven [another publisher?]. Some of them will take longer to get to us because of Pentecost. The Pentecost hustle and bustle means that getting a letter from Hanover to Vienna takes 2-1/2 days. Unbelievable. At the same time, I asked Jo to get me some English brochures from Piscarer [sp? London publisher?] to send. Maybe these will be of some advantage to you as well. As soon as I get something, I will send it right to you. In the “estate” you left behind I didn’t really find anything. Vitali prepared a list and in the notes I have enclosed you will find such things from the possessions of the Cohen children. A part of this may have been your stuff. There is a considerable amount of song and music [also refers to title of an old march Mit Sang und Klang ] and precious gems (really more like gravel). You’ll find that too.

The biggest surprise is that the children have been in Istanbul for five weeks. And they are doing well in making progress in French, Turkish, and Spanish. But you probably already know that from my earlier letters.

Our life is rushing back and forth without any pause and we are now trying to make the impossible possible and trying to get to the children soon. Our little ship had a leak in the helm, but we hope that you know how optimistic we are that it will be possible for us to plug this leak and get back to our preparations to go home.

I thank you for all the trouble you’ve gone to about hurrying up our entry visa. It was certainly well intended but actually it served no purpose, as we have Tillie who is keeping us apprised of things and the documents that we have sent to you.

I’m including some copies of the first letters we’ve gotten from the children and the later ones I will make copies of those too if you tell me you are interested.

Eva is already earning some pocket money by making flowers. She would probably get a lot more customers if she knew Turkish. And she tells me in the letter that she regrets that you did not go to Istanbul too because lawyers get rich there - there are so few of them. I however am glad that a great big body of water is separating you from us.

I am dumbfounded by the practical nature of my children. Eva writes today for the first time that she quite likes it there, that she has gotten used to it, and if it had to be, she could perhaps for financial independence stay in Istanbul. That is really not what I had in mind, but we can’t really do anything from here.

I am unhappy that my goal to have my children in my sight is not possible and I feel powerless here. The last few necessary steps are the ones I cannot take. When the children were here, we were strongly handicapped and now we really haven’t come much farther. Uncle seems to pull the strings at the highest level, but bureaucrats are the same everywhere. We would probably need to hide the key for the bathroom up higher.

You can hardly imagine a more useless existence than what we lead here. We take care of our cadaver and we try to damage as little as possible so that we will survive the trip.

Vitali went to see Marie yesterday. Both women are healthy and they are waiting. We are all waiting. There is nothing to do but wait here. It is our new profession. I have turned into a typewriter.

My types are all worn out but as long as I am in Vienna, I must take advantage of it. In the train from Vienna to Istanbul, Vitali’s portable radio will work.

I haven’t heard anything from Paula Beckhor in 8 days, but usually we call each other and she comes over quite often.

Paula F. is going to “see” her four children today. I am reading through your letter and I see that at one point I touched upon your wishes. My thoughts are jumping around. The thoughts are ripe and excuse my absent-mindedness. I could never have imagined that a person who doesn’t really have a career could be under pressure.

But you know the “road to Canossa,” where it’s necessary to do that to make progress to get away from here.  

Of your things, I have all of your notes, I have books, notebooks, and documents, and pictures. The other things I did get rid of. I did burn some correspondence and newspapers, postcards; in other words, things I instinctively knew were just a burden.

I did consider the possibility of sending things by post, but I just need a few more days until I could get done with the burden of my taxes. Poor Schiller, he would have to be turning over in his grave if he read this letter, not just because I quote him incorrectly.

The children know about your situation, because I send them copies of your letters and those from Robert as well. Unfortunately, I have not heard from Robert for 14 days now, so I sent Vitali to … I am writing to them pretty often so I hope to get answers soon.

Please do greet the Schillers for me and don’t let me wait too long for news because I have not found my way to the fate of Penelope, and now I realize my old sins of omission and I could just cry at the thought that I did something to the people who matter the most to me, that the weakness of my will may have unintentionally tortured them. Today I can’t really make it right again because the waiting is all we do. We have to wait for a fair, but possibly harsh punishment.

The best to you Paul. Begin your new life in the new world with just as much optimism as you had pessimism in the old world. Keep your head high, whatever happens.

You will hear from me soon and I don’t expect an answer, because otherwise there will be pauses. Somehow it seems to know no bounds.

With many kisses, I am

Your old
Helen

Frieda just brought over some more catalogs. Continuation to follow.

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It appears that mail was very fickle. Sometimes it took months or never arrived at all. This letter was written on May 30, 1939 and was received by Paul Zerzawy (either in San Francisco or New York) on June 6. Pretty quick even by today’s standards.

As Helene and Vitali do in 1941 as they prepare to come to America, Paul Zerzawy took little with him and left a lot of things behind.

This letter answers a question I had – how do I have letters from Eva and Harry that they sent to their parents from Istanbul to Vienna? Helene sent them to Paul Zerzawy so he would be kept up to date with what was happening and he kept them. It continues to amaze me how much information was shared across continents. We take for granted the ability to communicate far and wide with the internet, but people have always found ways to stay in touch with their loved ones, overcoming many hurdles and impediments.

My mother told me that she had learned silk flower making in Istanbul – the relatives thought that would be a good skill and that she could make a lot of money selling them. She brought the tools with her to the U.S. When I saw the Degas, Impressionism, and the Paris Millinery Trade exhibition at the Legion of Honor Museum in San Francisco in 2017, I thought of my mother. You can see examples of hats trimmed with silk flowers from the exhibition here. By 1939, in the U.S. such an occupation was not as lucrative as Eva’s relatives imagined. Probably better that she became a nurse!

Below are photos of the materials Eva brought with her, including a cardboard stencil of flower petals with the flowers’ names written in German.

May 29

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Vienna, 29 May 1941

My dear children and Paul! Well we’ve got it now. The American Consulate General has decided that the reasons we have listed are worthy of consideration and has sent us Form 20 which says that there is nothing standing in the way of our trip. Of course, we have to have all of the necessary formalities taken care of in a satisfactory manner. Papa is right now at the religious community to get some information about what they may have taken care of in our interest. We imagine that after the Pentecost holiday our matters will take a general step forward. 

You must excuse me that I keep talking just about us, but first it is the most important thing right now which is why I am telling you about every last phase of this. And secondly, my thoughts of the trip to you have not come back, so there’s a vacuum in my head. There ought to be a note stuck to my forehead: Nobody home.

We have a lot to do and Papa has even gotten up early to sort out and ponder what we really have to take with us and what, although with a heavy heart, we will have to leave behind. For days he has not managed to get his sun bath on the balcony. I suggested that he put his freckles in with the things we need to send. Or at least one, because it seems like his whole face is a freckle. He is afraid that when we get to the dress rehearsal for our packing, and if it takes any longer his beloved freckles are going to fade and he’s now thinking that he should be using the Pentecost holiday time to get a tan. We’ll see what the weather god has to say about that. My objection that the Spanish sun in July will give him enough opportunities to give his skin color a southern patina is ignored. I am curious how many degrees of fever I will get as a reaction of my pale skin because I haven’t had time to go chasing after every ray of sun, and there haven’t been that many anyway. I am thinking that might have been good to avoid getting a Spanish-Portuguese sunstroke. I haven’t had one since Cesenatico, but I am looking forward to one. The number of kilos we are allowed to take with us will give me plenty of chances to take a sun bath. While I am teasing Papa that his face is a freckle, I believe he is going to get back at me and discover that my body has become a water blister. I will stock up on Brandöl [a burn ointment] but of course I’ll only do that if our trip doesn’t get put off until the winter. I do not want to tempt fate or jinx this. I am so sure that we will be leaving soon that I can hardly imagine having to spend another winter here. Harry’s longing to stick his big toe in the snow and to flirt with the snow on his smaller toes is at this point something that I just can’t understand. Maybe I’ll get it when I’m down there. Easier for me to understand is the fear of pork roast with dumplings which are a good substitute for the Kipfler potatoes we won’t have. I am amazed that you don’t seem to have those, because as far as I can remember from my school learning, Bramburi [another word for “potatoes”] is a tuberous plant that was imported from America. Since Kipfler were unknown either in the the Altreich, I must assume that our dear good Kipfler potatoes were an Austrian specialty. But we can’t even get those in the Ostmark area. What an outrage! Where have our potatoes gone? It was just as hard for me to hear the story that one does not know the kitchen cart. I cannot really take all of my weights with me. Otherwise, I’d have to leave behind my head or some other part of my body.

Because of the stamps, I will have to end again. Take a deep breath. But a few more kisses more or less is not the issue. I will make this concession. I kiss, kiss, kiss you.

Helen

---

In this letter to her children and nephew, you can hear Helene’s hope and giddiness as it seems that all the pieces are coming together and that she and Vitali will be reunited with her children in a few short months. As we will see in a future letter, they have tickets to leave on the Ciudad de Sevilla in July, thus the reference to the Spanish sun. Like in the letter posted May 27, she continues to take an inventory of belongings, trying to figure out what to take and what to leave behind.

May 28

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Today we have a letter from soldier Harry Lowell in New Guinea to sister Eva Lowell in San Francisco.

New Guinea
May 29, 1944

Dear Eva,

I started this letter on the 20th inst., had it on my desk for about a week, and finally decided to finish it or bust. This place has transformed me into a very lethargic fellow; at times I do not feel like doing anything at all. Correspondence is quite a mental strain in as far as I have to search for interesting things that I could tell you about; unfortunately there are no news and my descriptions of New Guinea have given you an idea of what I am doing etc., therefore this letter will sound rather incoherent and silly to you. Please consider the circumstances under which I have to carry on my correspondence.

First of all I want to acknowledge and thank you for letters, parcels, and magazines received; the letters were dated April 22, 24, 28, and May 1, 10, 12, 17; I received the March issue of the Readers Digest and also the War Map, which is very good and just the thing I wanted. I enjoyed the Sunday edition of the Chronicle very much. Keep up your patriotic and samaritan activities; such deeds are never appreciated enough, and in my case I think I have acted quite ungratefully and returned your generosity by not writing for over three weeks. Well, that’s what you get for having a brother – what a brother, eh? Joking aside, I do appreciate your faithful letter writing and please forgive my apparent laziness; I shall do my best to remedy this fault. Thank you.

O Kangaroo, O Kangaroo,
Be grateful that you are in the zoo,
And not transmuted by a Boomerang,
To zestful tangy Kangaroo meringue.

From the above you can about picture my mental status at present. By the way, there are no kangaroos here, only wallabies which are first cousins to the kangaroo.

I am glad that you heeded my advice in regards to the Standard Oil deal. It does my ego good to see that my sermon impressed you so much. (Yet I cannot help thinking that the pilot was responsible for changing your mind.) Anyway, folly my advice and you’ll get along fine, haha.

Reading the Chronicle I find that I have missed a lot of good shows; well, I’ll make up for lost time when I get back. How was the Beethoven Festival? Did you see “Sons of Fun” yet? That must be quite a riot. As much as I dislike San Francisco I’d give anything to be there right now.

A great discussion is going on right now about the possible length of this war. One says it will last another four years, another thinks that this will be over by next Christmas, and others stay undecided and disgusted. I don’t know whether I should feel optimistic or pessimistic. I think I’d better be optimistic, don’t you?

I have finally found a chess partner; at last my thinking muscles are getting good exercise. Of course, you can imagine that I get brighter and sharper every day.

I haven’t been getting much mail lately and I feel a bit downhearted right now; I suppose next week I’ll get all the letters that have accumulated for the past two weeks.

You mentioned that you were looking for a new place to live in. Did you finally get sick of your landlady’s menagerie of reptiles and mice? If you see her tell her that if she should be looking for any more species for her collection, to come to New Guinea. She would love it. 

Where are you and Paul going to find an apartment, with the present housing difficulty in San Francisco? It would be a good idea, though. Oh boy, what a household that will be!

So the quality of cigarettes in the states is getting worse, is it. I guess we are getting all the good cigarettes, as I haven’t heard any of the fellows complain yet. I have been told by fellows that have been stationed in Australia, that American cigarettes sell as high as one pound ($3.22) per carton. (Black Market, of course.) Australians go hog-wild over our cigarettes; if I should ever go on a furlough I’ll take a couple of cartons with me to trade for milk, which is getting rationed now in Australia. I do miss my daily half-gallon of cow juice, believe me.

Here is a little story about Australia. An American soldier was riding on a very slow train somewhere in Australia; the train traveled at such a slow pace that the Yank stuck his head out of the window and angrily shouted at the engineer: “Do you know what we would do with such a train in the U.S.?” The Aussie cynically replied: “You’d probably eat it, drink it, or put it in a family way.” (You can see what reputation the Yanks have in Australia.)

You are mistaken if you think that I have transferred to different surroundings; my new place is right next to my old outfit – the same mosquitoes, bugs, snakes, rats, and mud as before.

Did you have a nice birthday party? I am glad you liked my birthday address – heartwarming, wasn’t it?

Believe it or not, despite the abundance of coconuts here, I have not eaten one for three months; I wish I could send you a few. (Oh well, it’s a good thing that I cannot, because they are rather fattening, anyhow.)

I have been seeing pretty good pictures lately: Coney Island, Rosie O’Grady, Tennessee Johnson, Adventures of Mark Twain, and some others. Did you see that picture “Mayerling” with Charles Boyer and Danielle Darrieux? I have been told that it is very charming.

I say old sweetheart, how about sending me a picture of you? Your only brother yearns for a look at your face; I wouldn’t be surprised if I didn’t recognize you when I get back. It seems that I have been away for a long time – it’s only a year – yet I feel like an old man. (Silly, isn’t it?) (It isn’t, though.)

How is Paul getting along? How is Hilda and the rest of the family?

There is another argument going on right now; it is quite noisy and I had to interrupt this letter to participate in the discussion on world peace etc. I should know better than to get involved in arguments. We haven’t arrived at any settlement yet so I am going back to writing my letter. (They are still arguing.)

This is going to be the last page; I think I am going to have a tough time to fill this page. Anyway, I have written a considerably long letter.

The discussion is still going on and is interfering with my thoughts; in spite of my efforts to concentrate, the noise of the argument makes it impossible for me to think straight. Why do people argue about things they know little or nothing about?

It is quite late now and I’ll be going to bed very soon. FLASH! The argument is still in full blast. UNFLASH. I am signing off now and will continue tomorrow morning.

Last night’s debate didn’t get anybody anywhere, because the two principal speakers could not agree; as a matter of fact they wound up calling each other names.

This is a rather dreary morning – blue Monday in New Guinea – and I have not snapped out of my sleepiness yet.

Say, I have to ask you another favor, beloved sister; will you kindly send me a couple of inexpensive fountain pens? My very good $1 pen mysteriously disappeared and it is impossible to replace it here. Thank you.

Well old girl, this is all I am going to write today. I hope you find a place very soon and I look forward to taste your delicious cooking. It won’t be long now – another two or three years and “Harry will be coming marching home again, Hurrah, hurrah.”

Give my regards to Paul and also to your friends.

With love,
Harry

---

Apparently Eva and their cousin Paul Zerzawy planned to get an apartment together. As far as I know, they never did so — my mother was married early the following year. It sounds like finding housing in San Francisco was just as difficult then as it is today.

As I read this letter, I was struck by how often Eva wrote to her brother Harry. While he was writing once in awhile, she was writing at least once a week, much like her mother did from Vienna while that was possible. She often sent care packages, including magazines and newspapers. I found an ad for “Sons of Fun” in the April 2, 1944 edition of the San Francisco Chronicle. Apparently it played on Broadway for three years before making it to the west coast.

Found at San Francisco Chronicle (online), 2 Apr 1944 65 ‹https://infoweb-newsbank-com.ezproxy.sfpl.org/apps/news/document-view?p=AMNEWS&docref=image/v2%3A142051F45F422A02%40EANX-NB-15002BE40B4637D1%402431183-14FF7A5DA81DA76A%4064›

Recently, I looked at the letters my mother sent me in 1978-1979 during my year abroad in France. As with her parents and brother 30 years earlier, she wrote to me at least once a week. Writing letters to a loved one an ocean away must have felt eerily familiar. At least this time a war was not keeping us apart and I had a definite return date. One of my favorite care packages that year came either from my mother or from my closest friends – a Sunday edition of the San Francisco Chronicle. The tradition continued!

May 27

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Today we have a letter from Helene in Vienna to Harry who is about to graduate from Mission High School in San Francisco.

Vienna, 27 May 1941

Dear boy of my heart and newspaper boy! The Lord God himself must have felt sorry for me because he saw my useless waiting for letters from you. In order to right this injustice your letters from April 30 and from May 8 from Frisco came today. The great detail in these made me even happier and my resilience - Papa hasn’t really suffered that much from not getting letters. I almost believe it increased his agility and his activity has helped him make quite a bit of progress on our matter. As soon as we receive our passports and clearance certificates [certificates of good conduct] from Berlin, there will be nothing to stand in the way of our departure. The harmlessness [?] will have happened by then. The only thing that still remains a big question mark is the statement from the American Consulate. The general consul will not issue a visa until one can show that the travel tickets have been booked, but the travel tickets are not issued until one can show a visa. So maybe Papa can figure out how to prove which came first — the egg or the chicken.

Can perhaps Mr. High School Graduate recommend some way of decreasing the specific weight of all the things that we must bring with us? I’m not too sure yet how I should do that. Should I leave all of my left shoes or all of my right shoes behind and should I present myself for my trip across the big pond as Mona Vonna when I intend to reach the holy ground of the United States? I would be very grateful to you for any advice on this. Fortunately, Papa and I have over the past few years developed sort of a common wardrobe. I wear almost exclusively his sports shirts as blouses and he enjoys wearing my trousers and my handkerchiefs - that I wear the pants at home [wear the pants in the family?] is only some sort of malicious invention of Jo’s. As far as your second aphorism goes that marriages turn into a 30 to 70 year war - I must tell you that here in Seidlgasse we are seen as a model of a married couple. Papa has never been so gallant as now, and this after we’ve been married for 21 years. Vitali by the way is commanding me to finish this up now because if I write more he will not have enough stamps to put on the envelope. Of course you will be very happy to have me stop since I am going on in this kind of tone. I hope that there will be no interruption in postal service, especially not to such an extent that I would really have to wait and pick it up myself. I would like to be able to help you deliver the newspapers.

Many, many kisses
Helen

---

According to Wikipedia, La Joconde nue or Monna Vonna was a charcoal drawing from the school of Leonardo da Vinci. Other artists made similar paintings and Monna Vanna appeared in literature, music and film.

At this point, Helene and Vitali have been downsizing for over a year, thinking in vain that they were on the verge of getting on a ship for the U.S. And yet their luggage is still too heavy to meet the travel allowance.

May 26

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Today we have a letter from soldier Harry Lowell stationed in Fort Francis E. Warren in Wyoming to Julius and Tillie Zentner in San Francisco. Tillie/Matilda Zentner was Helene’s first cousin and the Zentners were instrumental in bringing Eva and Harry to the U.S. in 1939.

 May 26, 1943

Dear aunt Tillie & uncle Julius,

To begin with I want to thank you for the nice card, the excellent candy and your letter.

I have finished my basic training and have been transferred to another company and will get schooling for about eight weeks. I’ll be trained in motor mechanics and operations; I started school Monday morning, and I must say that the army has a very good way of getting the principles of mechanics into one’s head. Although it’s a super-rapid course (the mechanics training has been cut down from 15 weeks to 4 weeks) results have been very good, according to the reports from headquarters.

We get up at 5:30, exercise for an hour, and go to school. (I forgot to mention that we have breakfast before exercise, lest you think they are too hard on us). We stay in school the whole day, save a one-hour lunch period. I must say that for the short time I have attended classes, I know quite a bit about the anatomy of our army trucks. We are going to have a test tomorrow that’ll show whether or not we have digested the material that has been heaped upon us.

I just received a letter from Jules; he seems to be studying pretty hard for his final examinations. I hope he’ll like to work in Sacramento; I am afraid he’ll have to do the work of two men, so it won’t be much of a vacation for him. I received a letter from my landlady the other day; she is expecting her son from Hawaii any day now. She said that she goes to restaurants almost every day because she and her husband work different shifts and because good food is pretty high and scarce. (Is it really that bad in civilian life now/ If it is, I advise everyone to join the Army or Waacs). I’ll be happy to write to them and ask whether they’ll be able to take a gentleman boarder this summer. Unless you have made other arrangements in regards to his boarding, let me know in your next letter whether you want me to find out about it.

By Jules’ letter I see that Lucien is still the banana prince of Third Street.

What kind of packing house are you going to open in San José? I guess you won’t lose much by not sending trucks up the Lake this year.

Every week new rookies flow into the camp and trained men leave for unknown destinations. Whenever I go to town I look around for young men; the only young men are high school boys and the rest of Cheyenne’s population consists of women and ineligible men. I almost got a cramp in my arm saluting all the officers that ran around town last Sunday.

I had K.P. again last week; I washed dishes all day. Because of the soap (G.I. soap) I used, my fingers took on the shape of bananas. It took two hours and a series of vinegar baths to shrink them to their natural size again. (The G.I. soap is said to take the fuzz off a cactus, so you can imagine the potency of it.)

Well, I have to close now as I have a lot of studying to do. (Maybe I can have your business when I come back; I’ll repair your Buick without charge).

Hoping you are in the best of everything, I remain

Yours sincerely,
Harry. 

P.S. My new address is – Co. F-B228 1st QMTR.

P.P.S. Thank you also for the clipping.

---

Julius was a widower with children and grandchildren when he married Tillie. He and Tillie had no children. Jules and Lucien were his grandsons. Although Harry worked for Julius’s company for awhile, he was not interested in pursuing it as a career. We learned a bit about the Levy-Zentner company in my February 9 post. Here is an excerpt from Julius Zentner’s obituary that appeared on page 20 of the January 8, 1953 issue of the San Francisco Examiner: 

…Mr Zentner, a business leader here for more than half a century, died Tuesday night in his home at 2001 California Street after several years of ill health. He would have been 89 years old next month.

BANK DIRECTOR.
Although retired from direction of his firm, he was at the time of his death a director of the Bank of America, and attended the board’s last meeting here….

Mr. Zentner came here from Europe in the early 1880’s. From a commission business that netted him $6 a week, he built an enterprise which now grosses more than $30,000,000 a year.

At the time of the 1906 earthquake, he was the president of J. Zentner & Company, with headquarters at Washington and Front Streets.

FIRMS MERGE.
A short distance away, at Washington and Davis Streets, was the rival firm of A. Levy & Company.

Surveying the ruins of their establishments after the quake and fire, Zentner and Levy decided to get together on a new establishment.

The new firm, A. Levy & J. Zentner Company, started out in March of 2907 with twenty-five employees.

Today, the firm has branches in the principal business centers of the West, ships produce throughout the East, and employs between 600 and 700 persons.  

A jovial, robust man, Mr. Zentner worked twelve to fourteen hours a day in building the firm.

“NO HOBBY BUT WORK.”
In the 1920’s, he once said:

“I have no hobby but my work. I never play golf. Neither does A.P. We don’t fancy such things.”

“A.P.” was the late A.P. Giannini, founder of the Bank of America, and one of Mr. Zentner’s closest friends.

Business associates said Mr. Zentner had what could be called a magic touch in the produce business. He knew when and what to buy. “He could scent the market,” one associate said. “His predictions were uncanny.”…

May 23

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Vienna, 23 May 1941

#100

My dear children! Since this is another anniversary letter, I would like to start this Friday ritual with a different introduction than that we still haven’t received any letters from you, but unfortunately that’s not possible. What is the silly goose dreaming of? The year 1941 had a bad harvest of corn, and geese like me should decide to dream about something else. We’ve had a dramatic pause in our matters. It would have been too good if things could have just stayed on track at the same pace. The next transport is going on July 4 and as they say, if the Lord God wills, even a broomstick can grow [a variation on a German saying - God can make impossible things happen.] Maybe he wants us to be among those who go, but in the meantime there is still a lot to do. It’s not really dependent on us, so all of our efforts are not going to help at all. Our fatalism has taught us that the stupidest thing you can do is to bang your head against the wall. All that gets you is a bump on your head on one side and damage to the wall on the other side, so nothing comes from that. My head can do without the decoration and the wall hasn’t really done anything to me so the most reasonable thing to do is to wait for Form #13 in all humility. In the meantime, it’s become summer in Vienna and a walk from Meidling to Hietzing has brought all sort of enthusiasm up in me. Papa cannot be moved into such a poetic mood as easily, and he looks at things with his sober eyes that I cluelessly ignore. It was beautiful in Schönbrunn. Everything was blooming. Chestnuts, lilacs, and tulips were shining in the most incredible colors. Clear blue sky covered this little spot of the world that looked like a paradise. With great majesty, the Gloriette towered above the carpet of flowers and like flowers which had escaped from their beds, a large number of children were darting about. In this environment I can forget the raw reality that we have to deal with. However, I didn’t have much patience for being outside so long because the “maybe the afternoon mail has brought a letter” did not leave me any peace. The possibility would have of course been possible, but there was no letter. My prayer with the rosary beads began again from the beginning. Papa says I am incurable and he says he really doesn’t understand me. Now that I have the possibility of picking up my letters myself, I cannot seem to get away from the obsession of waiting for the mail every single day.

I have some more writing to do for our matters and so I need to go now. Vitali is getting up from his sun worship and I must hurry. Greetings and kisses to all. I will answer Hilda very soon.

Kissing you and Paul most sincerely
Helen

Helene mentions that this is an anniversary letter — I assume that she is referring to her marriage to Vitali on May 18, 1920. Or is it that this is the 100th letter she has written to her children since they were separated almost 2 years earlier? At this point, Helene and Vitale are at a standstill and unable to do anything to further their cause and they have had no news from their children for awhile. In order to not think about their current difficulties, Helene takes us on a lovely springtime walk in Vienna. The walk they took was about 4 miles from their home, so they must have taken a bus or tram to get to Meidling.

It was approximately a two mile walk from Meidling to Hietzing.

May 21

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Vienna, 21 May 1941

My dear sweeties!

Since the 17th of February I have not had a letter from you. The American Consulate has not even let us know if they have received our affidavit. Not even to speak of the strange Form #13 which they should send, and we are living with the crazy idea that we will be seeing you soon.  We call that “Optimismus”, or maybe it should be Ob-die-Miss-Muß? [pun: missing the point]. Papa has already left : he is working on getting us our clearance certificate of good standing as far as taxes go. Joy is also relative. I am happy about every piece of clothing that I have decided I don’t need anymore, which has done its job and which can go away. I don’t think that in other days the acquisition of something like this would have made me so happy as now the realization that it is really not worth keeping this stocking, this shoe, or this fragment of a pajama to take with me or to get permission to take it with me. I would prefer to go on this trip like a very hopeful vagrant, but when we are over there with you, we will need some things. Customs audits were always the drop of vermouth in the glass of joy even when it was a matter of a vacation or a trip for fun, but I would be happy to take on these unpleasantries. The number of the ways and running around is legion, but sometimes one needs several days to get passage. It’s hard to believe with what calm and skill Papa has managed to get over the obstacles which are basically insurmountable and how he manages to pass the greatest difficulties with a laughing and quiet nature. Vitali is only unhappy with me because I cannot seem to get out of the habit of waiting for mail and he is jealous because he says I spend more time thinking about Jessica’s namesake [?] than I do about him. It’s ridiculous after 21 years of marriage, but when we get over there faster than we had originally hoped, then that has always helped to achieve that. But I think of you much more than about Rudolf. Last year I think at this time, Eva was getting ready for her graduation and this year it will be Harry. Or do they not have these ceremonies at his school? What wouldn’t we give to be able to be there, but unfortunately others will have to be represent us. You must describe the whole process to us in detail. Paul will certainly take pictures which will have to make up for our not being there. I have started my travel preparations in the following way: I have had a permanent, and the hairdresser and Papa were happy with the results. I wouldn’t have decided to do that so easily if Papa hadn’t threatened me that he didn’t think they’d let me into the USA with my old hairdo. Well that hit home. Without any further objections I let happen with my head what Papa and his hairdresser accomplice had in store for me. Afterwards I was even allowed to go to the movies, which I laughed very hard at, I was laughing even more that I had gotten this disastrous procedure over with than at the movie, although the movie was very funny. It was of course a rerun. Papa is very careful to keep tabs on the hairdo which is decorating my head so that I don’t destroy it and says I have to wear a scarf to bed. I am planning revenge, but I haven’t really thought of anything useful to do yet. Well, as I know you, you will certainly help me with that. At the moment I’m reading a quite obscene book: “Ladies in Hades”, by Frederic Arnold Kummer. I think I will have learned lot of slang from it by the time I leave. The way to hell is, in my opinion, less paved with good intentions as with curse words. I don’t actually appreciate of this kind of book and in German I would, not because I am a prude, not have reached for such a book, but with these too often chosen expressions of good books, you really don’t get any farther. One time, I even knew a whole book by heart: “The Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens, but I don’t believe that the grocer would have known what I meant if I were to declaim: “Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt Whatever about that” and so on. You get a lot more done with “shut up” and “let me alone.” You will be amazed at what a fine tone I can affect in English, as if I came directly from the underworld. I’m done. Cross your fingers [literally, press your thumbs] that I will get letters from you soon and that we will see you soon. Kiss, kiss, kiss.

Helen

---

This is the 99th numbered letter that Helene has sent since she began numbering her letters in late 1939. She did this to try to keep track of how many letters were making it to their destination. The earliest numbered letter I have is #6, written on December 14, 1939. Sometimes multiple letters were sent together, and some letters were not numbered. This means she was writing to her family in America more than once a week. Numbering letters was not a new thing, particularly during wartime. Helene’s nephew Paul Zerzawy numbered some of the letters he sent home during World War I.

Helene and Vitali are cautiously optimistic that they will be able to get the documents together to travel in the next few months to San Francisco and be reunited with their children. Helene is happy to get rid of everything she no longer needs and imagines arriving in America with virtually nothing. This clearing out, which feels so cleansing at this point, must have felt like yet another cruel blow when they found themselves stuck in Vienna, facing yet another cold winter, even more impoverished than before, and with few remaining clothes and belongings to keep them warm.

We learn about how Helene came to become more fluent in English – reading popular fiction rather than classics in order to be able to speak and understand language. Ladies in Hades appears to have been quite the novel. We see that Helene was an omnivorous reader!

May 20

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Today’s letter is written from Helene in Vienna to Hilda and and her husband Nathan Firestone in San Francisco. Hilda was Helene’s first cousin once removed.

Dear Hilda and Nathan! Many thanks for your kind letter, which gave me so much joy, happiness, and courage, besides your nice lines gave me the certainty too, that Paul and the children have your sympathy in such a great measure and you don’t feel them burdensome. At this thought I am feeling happy. Maybe, you find me tactless sometimes, to be in sorrow about the children, although they are in your care, but it the emanation for anxiety only consequently comprehensible and to excuse in this exciting days.

Please to excuse also, when I write to you by machine, but my handwriting has changed in such a manner, that I cannot decipher themselves.

I am sorry that we don’t get all letters written to us and that we must wait some weeks for mail. But there is nothing to do against, as to take a lesson in patience and not to lose nerve.

To hear that you are all well makes me contented and I hope the same in future.

Perhaps in the next weeks we shall get some letters at once and so we are knowing what you are doing. I wish you luck and peace, health and good humor, all things not to have in Europe now. 

In sending my love to you both I remain 

Yours truly
Helen

---

Paul Zerzawy lived at least for a time with the Firestones during his first few years in America. When Harry arrived in San Francisco in October 1939, he went to live with them while his sister Eva stayed with a different cousin. He stayed with them until he finished high school in 1941.

We learn a great deal from this brief letter. Unlike the long letters she sends her children filled with humor and musical and literary references, this letter is short an to the point. As we’ve seen in previous letters in 1939 and 1940, Helene’s English is nowhere near as fluent as it will be by the time she arrives in Istanbul in 1945. She is grateful for the hospitality of the Firestones and is happy that her children and nephew are safe. Yet she is understandably heartbroken to be separated from her family. Helene’s handwriting has become illegible due to the tremendous stress she is under. The post office is unreliable and there is nothing they can do to improve matters other than try to maintain a positive attitude. Life in Europe at this time is awful. She makes no attempt to hide from Hilda how difficult things are for them in Vienna.

May 17

Today we have a letter and legal document from soldier Harry Lowell to sister Eva Goldsmith in San Francisco.

Philippines
May 17, 1945

Dear Sis,

Enclosed you will find the instrument giving you the power of attorney. Any document you sign as my attorney must bear your signature as shown on the instrument. (Mrs. E.L.G.) Use it wisely and don’t forget to consult Paul any time you are in doubt.

As to your inquiries about my assets, I can lay my hands on twelve-hundred dollars as of this date. In case of emergency wire me for money.

For your information, my bank is the Merchants’ National Bank, Sacramento; in case of my death you may open my safe deposit box which contains documents such as: passports, diplomas, war bonds, etc. I don’t think that the necessity will arise to open the box at any time.

I covered everything, I think, in my letter from New Guinea. I know you’ll keep me posted. 

I’ll write you a long letter very shortly.

Give my best regards to all.

Love,
Harry

P.S. Most of the money is deposited with the Soldiers’ Deposit bank and I can draw it out at any time.

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This letter and power of attorney show us how quickly Eva and Harry had to grow up. By May 1945, they knew that their mother had been released from Ravensbrück and been sent to Istanbul. I doubt if they had seen their mother’s letter that we saw in the May 10 and May 14 posts.

Eva and Harry must figure out how to bring their mother to the U.S. It appears that 21-year old Harry had saved almost every penny from the moment he arrived in America, hoping that one day he  and his sister would be able to help his parents join them – according to inflation calculators, $1,200 in 1945 would be worth about $17,500 today. I’m guessing that Eva had done the same, since all of my life my mother saved every penny, rarely spending anything on herself. Although I have a lot of Harry’s letters from New Guinea, I haven’t seen the letter where he “covered everything.”

May 16

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

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

May 16, 1943

Dear Paul,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, so long!
Harry

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May 14

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

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Moda. Istanbul, May 10-45

My Harry-boy! Did you ever think that your mother aimed at adventures? Never, or did you? For voyages, yes, I always had a foible but under other circumstances . Six weeks I was doing nothing else but eating, drinking, sleeping, and reading and admiring the various landscapes, all things I was missing during a year and a half as I had been in Ravensbrück, a concentration camp for women. Probably there were great gaps in my education which must be repaired found out the Nazis and I learned things which do not belong to a good all-round education. I can see by the astonishment of the reporters who came to see us and I had been interviewed and printed several times. Now I am surfeited by sea, glaciers, towns, people but not yet of tea, coffee and chocolate. I am sitting among magnolia, lemon-bushes, quite indifferent, from the balcony I see the Sofien-Marchee from one side, Prinkipo.

from the other, not having the wish to see more. All my thoughts are directed to you all and to Vitali from whom I don’t know where he is just now. He was arrested with me on the 15th of October 43 and separated immediately. After 6 months I knew that he was brought to Buchenwald, a concentration camp for men. His letters - I received one every 3 months - were gay and full of confidence. This camp, I had been told, was better than that of mine and he assured me in every letter that his condition is in apple-pie order. I hope he had withstood the last days of Buchenwald till the liberation. I can’t understand why Turkish men were released with the exception of those from B. One must have forgotten them. You can believe me I have not let untried everything. I know it will last very long till I shall get answers to my inquiries but notwithstanding I hope I shall bring him with me as soon as you have done those steps which are necessary to claim us.

Please, Harry write me very soon. I am sorry for you too.

I am happy about Eva! Marriage, although at the first day I was anyhow stricken nearly stupefied. By and by I became familiar with the thought that Ebi became pledged. I asked so many questions that Eva will not be able to answer them. You must help her, likewise Paul.

Now I am glad that I have finished my letter. There is a great fuss about a thing I don’t know what. Farewell, darling, remain healthy and write very soon.

I kiss you.
Helen

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This letter was kept with the letter to Eva that we saw on May 10 (which cousin Lisette’s sent with own letter of May 11). So much is packed into this brief letter to her son – details of her separation from Vitali, and Helene’s relishing of her first days of freedom and plenty after a year and a half of cruelty and deprivation at the hands of the Nazis. Vitali in his letters to Helene from Buchenwald tried to make Helene believe that life was easier for him than for her in Ravensbrück, and it must have been much more comforting for her to believe that fantasy than imagine his reality. She has begun what will be at least a 10 year search for her husband. She is worried about her son the soldier. I don’t know if Harry saw this letter in 1945 – at this time he was stationed in New Guinea. I assume Eva would have at least written to him about the letter’s contents.

May 12

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

From: Haim Seneor Cohen, Vienna

To: Miss Eva Marie Lowell, 2200 Post Street Nursingschool, San Francisco, California, USA

Dear children!

Special greetings to our May child!  Not knowing when these lines will reach you, we are also thinking of our January kids.  We are healthy.  Greetings and hugs to all of you.

Date: 11 May 1942

Signature: Haim Seneor Cohen

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This is one of only two letters I have from Vienna written after October 1941 and before Helene and Vitali (Haim) were arrested and deported to Ravensbrück and Buchenwald in October/November 1943. Both letters were sent through the International Red Cross via the German Red Cross. Although they were still living in the same apartment in May 1942 that Harry and Eva had lived throughout their childhood, the boilerplate indicates that Helene and Vitali were considered prisoners of war. The Luftpost stamp on the top left says that it was paid with 3 “American coupons”.

Rather than say anything about their situation within the 25 word limit – besides which it no doubt was censored and they wouldn’t have wanted to worry their children – the message shows that despite the circumstances, they are always thinking of and missing their children, especially on their birthdays. They have no idea when they’ll be allowed to write again, so in addition to sending May birthday greetings to Eva (which were received in late July), they acknowledged eventual Harry’s birthday in January.

At this time, Eva was 21 years old and in nursing school, while her 18-year old brother had enlisted in the army the previous month. I can’t imagine what it must have felt like to be separated from her entire family, to receive this letter and be unable to help her parents. As far as I know, this was the first news she’d had from them since the a brief letter sent in October 1941 before the U.S. entered the war.

Old Mount Zion Hospital where Eva lived and trained to be a nurse from 1941-1943

May 11

11/5/1945

I received with a great pleasure your letter dated March 18/45. I am very happy to know you have got married. I hope he is a good person and will be to you a very good husband too. All my congratulations and my wishes of happiness, I think my parents told us to send theirs too, so do I.

Dear Eva, you may understand by that letter within mine that your mother is here at Istanbul. We were all very happy to know her and do you know my dear, we love her very much, she is nice and good; we often go to see her and she is nearly never alone during the week, but I myself can only see her once a week on Sunday for I work during the other days. She is as we are very anxious about uncle Vitali, I always try to distract her from bad ideas and I speak the more and more so that I think she has a headache after I am away.

We are very anxious about uncle Vitali but it’s just impossible to say that to aunt Helene so I am always lying when I am with her saying that I’m not anxious and that we’ll hear very soon about him. But do you know? I have a secret feeling that uncle Vitali is alive and healthy, it’s a strange idea perhaps but it’s very strong and according to my idea I am able to show a smiling face to your mother on this purpose.

I haven’t read your mother’s letter so I don’t know whether she wrote you about my steps in order to know about uncle Vitali. Look Eva, there is a very good person here to whom I spoke about uncle Vitali, I gave his name, address, block number and everything concerning him and told him to answer us where he is, and if they find him to declare that his wife is alive in Turkey and her relations saw her. Of course we need very much time for it but dear we must never forget that nothing is impossible under the sun and that as long as we have the hope of being helped God will always be with us.

What about Harry? Do you continually receive news of him? I hope they are very good. Please give him all my love when you write a letter. Don’t be anxious about your mother, she is with us and we’ll never let her alone. With the hope of hearing very soon good news about uncle Vitali and that as soon as war is over forever you’ll be again the whole family all alive and healthy. 

I remain yours faithfully
Lisette

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It appears that Lisette sent Helene’s letter from May 10 along with her own. As I have mentioned before, I do not have a family tree for Vitali’s family. She was probably the daughter of one of his sisters. Lisette echoes what we learned from Helene yesterday – that Vitali’s relatives made sure to keep her company in her first weeks in Istanbul. They tried to keep her spirits up and lied to her about whatever they thought might worry her. As usual, I am so impressed by Lisette’s fluency in English - we learned from Eva’s letters from Istanbul in 1939 that the Turkish relatives were most comfortable communicating in French and Spanish.

I often wondered why Helene and her children were so certain that they would eventually be reunited with Vitali. Lisette and at least one other person whose letters I have wrote with great confidence that they were sure Vitali was alive and well and would be joining them soon which probably gave some credence to their wishful thinking. He seems to have been such a strong personality that it was difficult to imagine him gone without a trace. In 1988 when Vitali would have been 100 years old, my mother finally said that she supposed her father would not be showing up on her doorstep.

Here is a photo from 1945 from cousin Lili in Istanbul. I assume that was Lisette’s nickname.