August 15

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Today’s letter from Helene to her children was sent together with the one we saw yesterday to her nephew Paul Zerzawy. This is the 46th letter she has sent since she started numbering her letters in late 1939.

Vienna, 15, August 1940

My dear children! Today you will all have to suffer from my bad mood. “Bad mood” is not the correct expression for the feeling of apathy and stupor and emptiness which the lack of reports from and about Harry has triggered in me, and I hope every hour that our protector spirit will release me from this uncertainty. This seems like hell to me, this kind of entertainment, compared to the fears that I currently have about Harry. I absolutely do not want to transfer my dark mood onto you, but it’s impossible for me to write in any other way when I am in pain about you. I know this letter will get me quite a telling off from Eva. I wish I had that already. I’m used to everything possible and even impossible. My parched brain has not found a plausible explanation, not even Vischers’ explanation: the malice or spite of the object can be comforting to me, because your letters are something abstract, thoughts and the bogeyman I would like to meet who would dare to get between you and me. But one thing you must promise me - do not ever keep anything, not even the smallest thing, from me; it puzzles me that Eva’s last two letters don’t have a single word about Harry. When I pick up your letters and take them in my hand, I always find a light-hearted criticism of the other. I would be happy if I could have some sort of assurance that my fears are without basis and I will then be glad to ask you to forgive me if I have caused you any dark hours through my fearful lines that I am writing. My entire thought process and that for which I strive has really always been to spare you any such troubles. You will realize that one only figures these things out through one’s own experience. I would be very glad to take these tortures onto myself if I could be sure that that would help you and that you would therefore have no worries about when you one time have children yourselves and are in a similar situation. My writing is kind of confused today, so please give me a break. Everything is the same here. The weather is cool and dark, it’s kind of unreliable, it’s like April. I don’t really care about this. My lifestyle is the same whether it’s nice or whether it is raining. I am only happy when I get regular news from you. The citrus fruits that we are seeing in the market make me think that fall is coming very, very soon and that the summer which this year was really only a few days will be finished soon and will give way to a long lasting winter. Cozy hours by the fireplace are for me just like concepts out of old trashy books when I don’t have you here to share them with me. My sense of reality celebrates orgies in the cold time of the year.

I ask you and I asked Paul the same thing – to send greetings to Zentners, Schillers, and Firestones, and also to Sol Goldberg. Don’t forget to do this please. If you get this letter, maybe the vacation time is already over. I am curious what’s going on with Eva’s plan for nursing school or for the study of chemistry and whether it will come out the way she predicts. Little Harry still has the last compulsory year ahead of him.

While I’m talking to you – if I can call this conversation – I am feeling a little calmer and now I almost have a feeling that I will soon get mail from you which will make me happy and then I will soon regret having let myself go in this way with you.

Papa is the strictest censor, who know if he will even send this letter?

Keep me in your thoughts!

Your mother
Helene

Thank you for the card!

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Helene continues in her melancholy mood of the previous day. She can’t help but imagine the worst when she has no news from her children.

These letters give me a deeper understanding of my mother Eva, who took on the duty of writing regularly to her parents. Her brother Harry was a less reliable correspondent. No matter how often Eva wrote, it wasn’t enough (couldn’t ever be!) and didn’t include what her mother most wanted to know. Of course, what Eva couldn’t control was the fact that she and her brother were separated from their parents and nothing in the world could fix that. My mother was always worried about doing the right thing and instilled in me an immense sense of responsibility. It probably was already part of her make-up, but these experiences intensified the trait.

In 1941, Helene again will cite Vischer’s philosophy in a letter we saw on February 5.  

August 14

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Today’s letter is from Helene to her nephew Paul Zerzawy in San Francisco.

Vienna, 25 August 1940

Dear Paul! What situation are we living in to be able to expect a letter from you? Maybe you are reading more bitterness into this sentence than I had originally intended. Read it like “daddy buy me a pair of pants.” Maybe it’s a categorical imperative or maybe it’s a beseeching request. I leave it to you to figure out the tone of this music. You must know best what key you react to best and in which kind of emphasis I could hope to thank you for a letter. Although Eva really is good about writing, maybe there’s a lack of paper as I could see from the recent content of a past letter. And of course, the now so popular delay in delivery I see how a two week break in letters could happen. I am more than worried about the lack of letters from Harry and I really can’t explain the reason for this to myself. The facts don’t add up for me. Does he need something? If he needs something, of course he should just let us know. If he writes, his letters would have to get here even if they came late. If he perhaps only sent illustrated letters and drawings which I really can’t imagine, is that the explanation why we have not heard anything from my boy for 2 months? The last letter of Eva only had 7 censorship numbers, it used to be 2. Even if that’s the cause for the delay, there would have to be some mail when things are going right. I ask you therefore in all seriousness to reassure me and help me escape the hell of my thoughts. Also, I ask you to please let me know immediately what you hear from Robert. I already know that you have had an answer to your telegram. Nothing, Paul, nothing, can justify such a long period not writing, not even having to work 24 hours a day, which I imagine is not the norm. I also can’t imagine that you don’t have any money for stamps. You could however get together with Eva and write a letter as you did, sending it along with hers. For simplicity’s sake and to save money, I am writing the letter along with the children to Bertha’s address so excuse me. Nothing new is to be said about us. It wouldn’t matter anyway. Our health is in decent condition. If Tillie, Bertha and Hilda had any imagination of how I live, they would also write more. I am so thankful for all the dear and good things they do for you and the children, I ought to be satisfied with it since I would owe them even more thanks if they were to write to me. Everyone has his own thing to do and it is unreasonable to demand that you enter the psyche of another person. In my case it’s probably not even possible. There’s a line from one of your favorite songs, Feldeinsamkeit. This expresses how I feel - it is as if I had died a long time ago. A very strange combination of ideas. When I hear this song or think about it or even hum it, I think about the bouquet of Dürer and I think of a hands study which I once bought at the Dürerhaus. Both reproductions were taken away from me in Rosenheim (1918) since it was forbidden to take printed material over the border at that time. The silhouette of Salzburg that soon appeared helped me get over the loss; that is, for that moment I often thought that I might have been able to replace these items, especially that beautiful bony hand which reminded me so much of that of my father. And so I imagine the hand that used to rest over us and protect us.

I hope I have achieved with this letter that you will sit right down and write to me whatever there is to write. I am giving you the duty to extend my best greetings to Tillie and Julius, Bertha and George, Hilda and Nathan. Prove that you haven’t forgotten us and please reassure me. It’s really, really important. I really need it. With many greetings and kisses I remain

Helen

Paula says hi!

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Even in her complaining about a lack of letters, Helene’s humor and love peek through. Hoping to inspire Paul to write at last when mere pleading hasn’t worked, she uses musical analogies to invoke their shared love of music and long-ago musical soirees.

Helene is especially worried about not having heard from her son. She mentions his illustrated letters – we saw the only surviving example in the June 6 post.

Helene refers to a song by Brahms which translates to “Alone in the Fields” — click on the link to read the lyrics.

This is one of Helene’s most bittersweet letters – identifying with the lyrics of a sad song, remembering her father’s/Paul’s grandfather’s hands protecting them decades earlier.

Paul is the only person in her life who would have memories of her father. His brother Robert was too young to remember much if anything. Interesting that her son Harry fashioned his own “newspapers” in his illustrated letters – perhaps inspired by his mother’s tales of growing up in her father’s print shop and newspaper press room.

There are many examples of prints of hands by Dürer. The most famous one appears to be Praying Hands  Perhaps that is the print that was taken away from her. This link takes you to several Dürer works featuring hands. The only bouquet that comes up in a search of Dürer’s complete works is one of violets.  

August 11

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Today we have a carbon copy of a letter written by Paul Zerzawy in New York to his aunt Helene in Vienna — you can tell it is a carbon copy because his signature is off kilter on the second page. He arrived in the U.S. in April. This is an interesting artifact because the vast majority of the correspondence in the archive between Helene and her family from 1939-1941 is in one direction. Fortunately, Paul saved a copy of this letter and copies of those written by his cousins Eva and Harry to their parents while they were in Istanbul establishing citizenship (see April 27, April 28, and May 6 posts) so we hear a bit from their perspectives.  

718 West 178th St., #44                               New York City, 11 August 1939.

Dear Helene!

To divert you from the worries that you have expressed again I will start by telling you that I am doing very well. I am in sort of a summer hibernation mentally because of the climate. I am not inactive – for example, I am taking classes in English and business subjects which take up 5 or 6 hours a day. But with that, my will power and my initiative are totally exhausted. Everything which is not tied to these prescribed hours gets put off to another time. I’m not the only one who feels this way. Most of the New Yorkers are suffering from the heat and humid weather just as much as those who have promised me a position who don’t seem to be able to get it together to make a decision. Because of this I am quite sure that I will, after Arthur gets back from San Francisco at the beginning of September, make my move to San Francisco. The refugee committee here which has pretty much failed to find work for me has at least pledged help for me to pay for the move, since my funds are not enough to pay for the trip and some amount of time of living costs.

About me you need to worry not at all, I’m not worried either. I am only nervous when new arrivals bring reports from different parts of Europe and I wonder how I can possibly enable you and Robert can immigrate here. In order to extend his stay in England or perhaps if it doesn’t work out in England to try and make it here, Robert desperately needs an affidavit. I have not found anyone here and it’s getting harder and harder. But it has to happen and it will. For you two, I will do what I can within my powers. However, there is a problem here and that is the reason why I have to wait to hear your opinion about this, before I speak to Bertha or other people. It has to do with the field in which Vitali is so successful and with which he could certainly earn his livelihood. But there are some legal blocks to that. The laws in the individual states are different. As far as California goes, apparently there, according to a letter that Bertha wrote, anything having to do with astrology or palmistry and such is forbidden. (I have already talked to Bertha and at least hinted around for you, and you may also have expressed your wishes to go to San Francisco.) It is possible that it is not an explicit ban on this, but it may be more like it is in the state of New York where according to my inquiries, general anti-fraud regulations are sometimes used against false prophets/swindlers. Sometimes there are police involved in this. (I will try to find out more exact information about the conditions here and in other places.) Now I don’t need to tell you that I hold Vitali’s talents in very high esteem and that I am sure that he if he were here, he would be able to convince doubters, whether official ones or not, of his abilities as he has done so in Vienna. By the way, even in New York, I know of some cases where this kind of work is in fact accepted, and some people have even put notices in the paper, while other people are not allowed to make any kind of propaganda.

But the risk, whether large or small, will make anyone shy away who might be able to sponsor him if it is not a relative who is particularly interested and wants to bring the immigrant here. As far as non-related sponsors, it is normal procedure that there would be a fee to pay which might be paid over several years and might be several thousand dollars. So really, the only ones who come into question are Bertha or someone in the family, and besides the fact that they believe they have already done their familial duty, and really they have already done quite a bit, they may be afraid of having trouble with the official bureaucracy. In order to mitigate these concerns, it would be good to provide proof that you are able to support yourself by writing. I don’t have any connections myself. There’s no point in going to a newspaper with empty hands. But do try to get some of the articles you’ve written for your work, and of course that doesn’t cost anything. Try to make them sound interesting and you do know the American taste - try to write something that would be appropriate and send it to me. In good English, or if it’s German I could see that it gets translated. If a newspaper accepts this, then you have already won quite a bit. I don’t think I can get an affidavit via a newspaper, but if we did get something published, we might be able to go to the relatives with a little more assurance that you could be successful. Please don’t be angry with me that I’ve burst your bubble [literally, thrown water into your wine], but there is no reason to shut your eyes in the face of the truth. There are problems, but of course they are just there for us to overcome, and doubt would be, as you would put it, a sacrilege.

I don’t think Vitali’s relatives in Istanbul will help you much according to what I know about Eva and Harry’s experiences. Or am I being unfair to them? I was, however, quite horrified when Eva wrote to me that the small amount of money which she has earned by the sweat of her brow she had to pay to them for room and board costs. I was so angry that I was afraid to answer because I was afraid the letter would be censored and it would just hurt the children. If they are not with you again, do please send them all my love. For the time it takes from the ship arrival to the delivery onto the right train to go to San Francisco, which could mean a few days in New York where they can take a rest and maybe take a look at the city, I will certainly take over the costs and the responsibility for them. I owe you some money anyway, for example for the music newsletter, which I got the first issue of but not the subsequent. Just make sure the children come soon while I’m still here. If that doesn’t happen, I will have someone take care of them, most likely Arthur. Those who can issue the affidavit - the Zentners and Firestones - should take out a power of attorney or proxy in my name and send it to me. Or if Arthur is already there, then they can send it to Arthur. It is a good thing if the sponsor or authorized representative is present when they land. What about the cost of the trip to San Francisco?

What I said above about my excuses about not writing is true for relatives whom you may see and to whom I may not have written yet. Keep me informed if it’s not too much trouble for you and you don’t have to pay for postage. Tell me, rather, what I owe you. You may complain to your heart’s content about my rudeness for not having written for so long - but, write! write! write!

Kisses from
Paul

Helene, can you draw the family tree of our American relatives and how they’re related to us once more? Arthur’s version does not correspond with your memories, which seem more accurate to me.

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We learn so much from this letter. As usual, Paul’s correspondence is almost all business. It is filled with everything Helene and Vitali need to know and understand to facilitate their children’s and their own journey to America. Vitali’s unusual occupation is a stumbling block.

In the May 22 post, I included testimonials from satisfied clients. Also in that document were translations of several newspaper articles (including the ones in the April 7 and June 29 posts) – after reading this letter, I assume the document was created in response to Paul’s request for writing samples and other things that might convince officials and potential sponsors to help them emigrate.

We see that it was Paul’s responsibility to bring over his brother Robert from England, and his aunt and her family from Europe. This was quite a responsibility given his own lack of resources and limited English. He is doing everything he can and it’s proving extremely difficult.

August 7

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New Guinea
August 2, 1944

Dear Bertha and George,

I was happy to hear from you again and I found your letter quite encouraging, you are a true booster of my morale. I am in rather good spirits as yet – but another two and a half years of this and I’ll be a sad looking individual. 

“Name me no names for my disease
With uninforming breath;
I tell you I am none of these,
But homesick unto death.”
W.B.

I had better get out of this mood quickly before I start getting too sentimental, eh? After all I am very lucky compared to those poor G.I.’s who have been here for nearly three years; it’s only been seven months since I arrived on this island (…….long, long ago, long, long ago….) I think the lack of sufficient sunshine is what makes me so gloomy; you have heard of rain in the tropics, have you not? That’s the rain that never stops and that never gives the sun a chance to peek through its wet curtain of gray. (Rather poetic, yes?) When there is sunshine I always feel happy and joyful like a lark and don’t know worry or gloom. This dreary, drizzling, dropical (pardon – poetic license) climate makes a man think; and when a soldier, who is thousands of miles away from home and civilization, starts to think and think – you can imagine the result. There is one thing that a man must learn here to keep him from going batty, namely not to do too much thinking, too often, too long, and too seriously. The best thing to do is to pursue some hobby to keep one’s mind away from things. That reminds me, I finally decided to take advantage of your offer to send me anything I needed. Will you kindly send me about ten packages of assorted seeds, both flower and vegetable. I want to do a bit of experimenting here. I know, there are a lot of plants which won’t grow here, but I want to try anyway; the soil is extremely rich and fresh vegetables will be much tastier than the “C” rations we are getting. I realize that what I ask sounds quite crazy to you, but I am serious about this. I am looking forward to getting that package from you. As for reading material, I have sufficient; a friend of mine in So. California presented me with a subscription to the National Geographic Magazine, which I enjoy very much. The Special Service branch of the Army furnishes us with good books and magazines that keep our spare moments occupied. Eva has been sending me the Sunday editions of the Chronicle; you see, there is no lack of reading material.

Have you been having luck with your garden this year? I heard the weather hasn’t been so good in S.F.

I guess you have been to Eva’s new domicile already. How is she getting along? Please tell her that I am still waiting for her picture – a big one. I have been asking her for the last six months, unsuccessfully however. That’s a fine way to treat one’s own brother, isn’t it?

Well, it is getting rather late, and as there is nothing more to write about I’ll sign off.

I hope both of you are well and happy when this reaches you.

Yours very fondly,
Harry

P.S. Too bad you cannot send me a cow.
P.P.S. Give my regards to all.

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For me, today’s letter encapsulates so much of what Harry learned from his parents and from his own experiences thus far in his young life – finding humor in any situation and wanting to share it with others; a sunny expectation that fate will be kind; a confidence in his own capabilities that he will be able to accomplish or create anything with the right attitude and few resources – a few seeds are enough; a love of language, music, and literature. All of these things stood him in good stead throughout his life. He cared little for money and expensive things, and was happiest entertaining himself and his family with music, laughter, and fun.

The poem is by Witter Bynner, who began writing poetry in the early 20th Century. The song snippet is from a 19th Century song called “Long, long ago.” I remember singing this song as a child – perhaps in elementary school? Both the poem and the song both deal with nostalgia and homesickness.

August 5

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

 Vienna, 5 August 1941 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

August 2

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Today’s letter from Helene bears the same Clipper and censorship numbers as the one we saw on July 29, confirming her complaint about her “untrue Vitali.”

Vienna, 2 August 1940

My dear children! The untrue Vitali did not mail my letter from the 30th, which annoys me because letters which one does not write or send cannot arrive. But there are so many of them on the way that a disruption in our news cannot be assumed. The situation that I have taken a half sheet you can figure out that I don’t have anything new to say or have very little to report to you. All of my thoughts are concentrated only on the one idea that there must be some letters because of the intensity that something must have gotten through. Eva’s last letter is still the one from July 3rd, from our nobleman from June 10. To be condemned to such passivity is a very unpleasant thing and harder to learn than any other subject you might study. So I’m doing some remedial work on what I didn’t have time to do over the past few years and I am reading a great deal. My intellectual pursuits are with Leonardo, Michelangelo, Machiavelli, and their contemporaries. As you see I am living in the deepest Middle Ages. Papa is doing the same thing, but the difference for him is that he has done this for years and I’m more like someone just starting school. I really had to figure out how to hold a book. It’s a lot harder to read when you hold the book upside down in your hand. The weather of the last week was so unfriendly that I preferred to stay home and can vegetables for the winter. Vitali was very industrious in helping me because you can’t just read all the time. So with these two completely different activities - one for the mind and one not - I am perhaps more inclined toward the last. At least you have a way to leave your thoughts free and the thoughts come right to you. The day before yesterday I promised my mother in a dream that I would not leave her behind and that I would stay here. In the morning I regretted my premature promise. Jo’s visits have become less regular. They are almost more like irregular rather than regular. She did come rather irregularly but several times a day. Now she shows up every 2-3 days. But we do see each other every day because she walks by to go shopping and I am on the balcony waiting for the mailman. (This is how I spend my time these days.) She has probably seen enough of my face from this distance. The paper is about to run out, so kisses

Mutti

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Helene feels that her life is on hold. Her only desire is to join her children in San Francisco, but the way is not clear. In her dreams, she struggles with the idea of leaving her past behind. Daily life is difficult and becomes more isolated each day. Her only joy is receiving mail, but it rarely arrives. I imagine her standing on one of the balconies below, awaiting the postman — this is the building they lived in in Vienna. (photo courtesy of Corry Guttstadt).

The building on Seidlgasse where Helene, Vitali, Eva, and Harry lived.

Helene’s comments remind me of how I’ve felt during the last 18 months of near isolation due to the restrictions of the pandemic. Although I had the best of intentions to improve my mind and to be productive, in the first few months especially, I found it difficult to concentrate. I didn’t can vegetables, but I did discover the joys of sourdough!

August 1

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This letter from 1941 is labeled #118 – meaning that Helene had sent at least 118 letters to her family in San Francisco since she began numbering them in December of 1939. I have about 100 letters from that period – as Helene suspected, not all of her letters made it to their destination. The letter is damaged so the last big paragraph might not be translated correctly.

 Vienna, 1 August 1941

My dear children! 2 years ago today we were running around with pleasant stomach aches. We imagined we were going to see you on the 4th at 8 in the evening. I can still see myself walking the whole train to get a glance of my children but this didn’t happen. Eva was already standing on the train platform talking to Papa. Harry decided it was a good idea to stay in the background a little bit and let Eva prepare us for what he looked like. The stomach ache and the shivering knees are still with me today, just that the hope of such a train station scene is now with the roles reversed and it seems very far away. We are condemned to sit around and do nothing about our issues here and our hope is that our luck is dependent on yours and on your cleverness in dealing with these matters. It is impossible not to believe that fate has a hand in the game. It is very distressing that the door was slammed in front of us, but on the other hand, when believes in fate, it’s possible to endure it. “We will get away on time” says Papa, as he always does. He’s in such a good mood and he is so confident that he can hardly understand my impatience. This time I even insist that he must be right about this after all. There’s not much left of our tiny circle of acquaintances here and there is nothing nice to report so I will just confine myself to writing about generalities.

“C’mon let’s get to it,” speaking in Harry’s jargon. It is August now. The heat is the only thing that has remained the same and the airy clothing (usually none at all) of the neighbors across the way, assures us that they find it so hot as we do. Yesterday following Papa’s orders, I took 2 aspirin and I was surprised that these candies had such a prompt effect which for me is usually not the effect of being all sweaty. My nightgown was all wet, the pillows felt warm and damp, I lay in a murky puddle. Was I in a jungle? I wasn’t at all surprised when a cobra laughed at me and stuck out its tongue. This feverish bath atmosphere got on my nerves. I threw the pillows, sheets, and my nightgown off of my bed. There’s the solution to this problem. In my hands, I felt a leaking heating pad [Thermophore - brand name for a moist heating pad]. It had leaked out and it seemed like it was dried out. I have never seen Papa so quick and nimble. In no time, he brought fresh bed clothes and he turned the mattresses over, which on the other side looked like they had been under a chronic bed wetter. He rubbed me down and said “My word, you’re like a big chamois! Couldn’t you have called me a little earlier?” I was so proud of the unusual effect that the aspirin had had on me. Although I had been dried off, my skin looked like the hands of a washerwoman after a big wash day. My mattresses are standing up against the window and are being exposed mercilessly to the rising August sun and I hope that they will have the strength to get rid of the water they have soaked up. Well...

I was just interrupted by Jo. She had had some sort of argument 14 days ago and she vented about her bad mood. She came to make it an issue with me because I had not bothered about her while she was sooo sick. Of course, she was so sick that I am happy right now, but you know my mentality. I believe everything, so I am deceived by the stupidest people. Why shouldn’t I give my loved ones a little joy?

To close off the letter, I will make my stereotypical communication that I hope to get mail from you and that I love you unendingly.

I am greeting all of our dear ones and I still long to see you.

Helen

P.S. Please when you get a chance can you let me know which of my letters by number did not arrive? Of course, I mean those from the last months.

---

Helene begins her letter recalling her joyful reunion with her children two years earlier when they returned to Vienna after a few months in Istanbul to obtain their passports. As we saw in the June 6 post, in that short time, Harry had changed a lot – growing much leaner and taller, becoming almost unrecognizable. In recalling this earlier reunion, Helene is dreaming of a future one. The roles are now reversed and she is relying on her children to help them in their efforts to leave Vienna and join them in San Francisco.

In many of her letters, Helene looks to fate to pave the way. In the February 15 post, we saw a story Helene wrote about Vitali entitled “On being fatalistic.” When writing the Febraury 18 post, I realized that her description of fate comes from Goethe’s Faust. Sadly, in so many ways, fate was unkind to Helene and Vitali.

Throughout their lives, both Eva and Harry would describe themselves as fatalists – one of the many lessons they learned from their parents. I now realize that each time they would call themselves fatalists, they were evoking the memory of their parents. At the end of Harry’s life, we worked together to write his obituary. Harry spoke at length about how lucky he had been in his life – being an optimist, he dwelt on the aspects of fate that had been kind to him.

July 30

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Today we have a letter from 20-year old soldier Harry Lowell to his sister Eva in San Francisco.

 New Guinea
July 30, 1944

Dear Eva,

This being the last of the month I think it a good idea t get rid of all my delinquent correspondence and start the next month with a clear conscience (Speaking of conscience, I guess there is no need to tell you that seven of your V-notes are in front of me – all of them unanswered, for shame!) O well, civilians don’t need letters to maintain their morale as much as we men in New Guinea do; so – please don’t follow my example! Keep on writing….till your pen runs out of ink! (Then, refill your pen and continue writing!)

Having dedicated one whole page to apologies for my epistolary shortcomings, I shall proceed with my letter.

First of all, I want to thank you for your constancy in dispatching your cheerful V-letters. If I should ever be awarded the Congressional Medal. I’ll let you wear it forever, in view of your morale boosting. Amen.

Yes, you may use my tennis racket, as I was going to buy me a new one anyhow – but please keep your fingers off my badminton racket, please! (And don’t use my foil for weenie roasts, either!) Who came out victorious in the Julia vs. Eva match?

Congratulations on your new raise! What in the world are you doing with all that money? How about advising your bank to let me be the co-withdrawer of your account?

I received a letter from an acquaintance from San Bernardino. Although I pictured as realistically as possible the life of a nurse (post mortems, deaths, insults, etc.) and otherwise discouraged her, she ignored my fatherly advice and turned around to join the Order of the Nightingales. You see, I may as well consider myself a complete failure as far as my capacity as a second Mr. Anthony is concerned. Nobody gives a darn about my advice at all. It’s rather discouraging, isn’t it? (However, I’m glad you heeded my advice regarding the Standard Oil deal. ‘Twas a moral victory!)

Another friend from San B., a school teacher, has presented me with a subscription to the National Geographic magazine, which is one of my favorites. Don’t you think that’s very nice of her? I am being taken care of alright. With every letter that I get from anybody comes an offer that I should let it be known if I needed anything. You know, it is very gratifying to know that quite a few people think of me. It’s a great life!

Starting August we’ll be getting 24 bottles of beer a month; that is a whole case, for half a pound. The Army is trying to make life here as comfortable as possible it seems. I suppose the government will look for volunteers to stay here after the war; as far as I am concerned, they can build me a mansion and I wouldn’t be persuaded to remain in this place, by Jupiter!

The news is very good and we will expect this war to be over by Christmas of ’45, we hope.

Well Sis, that’s about all I can think of at present; there have been no new developments All’s quiet at this front.

Give my regards to all.

Love,
Harry

My mother taught me to be good
At least as good as I was able;
Otherwise I think I could
Dress in ermine, mink, or sable.

P.S. What about that photograph of you that I have been asking for the last six months. Have one taken tomorrow and send it to me P.D.Q.

---

Eva seems to have learned letter writing from her mother - faithfully writing to her loved ones, even when they did not reply. Her sense of love and duty kept her going, even when she probably felt quite alone. At this point, she hasn’t heard from her parents in a few years. She probably knows they have been sent to Ravensbrück and Buchenwald and is helpless to do anything.

Eva and Harry both loved playing tennis, from the time they were children in Vienna. (See June 14 post.) We’ve seen examples of V-mail in earlier posts (see March 14 post). Mr. Anthony must have been extremely popular - Harry mentioned it in a previous letter. (See June 28 post). Is the poem original? Although it feels like it might be a song lyric or silly poem, I didn’t find anything in a quick search.

July 29

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

 Vienna, 29 July 1940

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

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

Helen

---

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

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

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

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

July 28

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Today we see two letters that Eva kept with other documents and letters in an envelope marked “Otto.” Helene’s nephew Paul kept a copy of his reply to Otto’s letter Paul — he takes the lightest tone I’ve seen in any of his letters – he jokes about becoming a “rich American cousin.” If only he had succeeded!

Prague, 16 June 1939
(received June 28) 

Dear Paul!

Many thanks for your last letter, which I will answer in detail later.  

I just wanted to send you a short piece of news that on 10th of this month I married Steffi and I am sending you a photo.

Many greetings and kisses from Steffi as well. 

Your
Otto

P.S. On the 23rd, we will be moving into Robert’s apartment which we have rented for the foreseeable future.

718 W. 178th St.                                                                             July 28, 1939
c/o Cooper, Apt. 44
New York NY 

Dear Otto,

I was so happy to get your marriage announcement.  I know you will not regret this.  From the moment I met Steffi, I knew, despite difficulties in communicating, that she was a person one can get along with.  She will be a good housewife and a compassionate companion for you, just what one needs in these times.  Please translate my congratulations into good Czech for her.  Tell her of my request that she and I be on friendly terms, just as I have always been with you without any trouble at all.  I owe you a wedding present, and in order to pay this debt, I hope to become a “rich American cousin” as soon as possible.  With patience and luck this goal should be possible even nowadays, although it may be the exception.

My complaints about being lazy about writing letters are perhaps tempered somewhat by your failure to send me a detailed letter.  You are forgiven, of course!  But you won’t get a detailed description of my life, either. It’s bad, and uninteresting.  Thousands are running around who share my fate.  My intention is to go away from here, probably to San Francisco, if I don’t find something soon. Job opportunities are better anywhere but New York.  What are you going to do?  I think you have your job until September; and do you have any plans for later?  If you have time, tell me about it in detail, and let me know what your brothers, cousins and other relatives are doing.  If you get together with them, say hello from me, and tell them I’m sorry I haven’t written yet.

I know that you are dealing with my issues, since Leo Schauer wrote to me that he, in agreement with you, asked me to provide the bank with my address because of the locked-up papers (may mean:  frozen accounts).  I have done this.  How does it look re selling Czech state papers; do you think we will ever see anything from that?  Thank you so much for your trouble and care. – Also, re getting the sum back which I paid, under the title “surrender”, for the approval/permit of further (payments), I hope you can confirm that you have tried everything humanly possible.  I don’t suppose I will get the first 200 pounds back.  The first 200 pounds (and, after all, that is all I got approved) were tax free, and legally the ministry should return the surrendered amount, if not the donation demanded.  ---  I also wanted to ask you if Mother, from whom I haven’t heard in a long time, is receiving her full pension – and if not, why not?  You are in touch through letters with Robert, whom I’m very worried about.  Otherwise, I unfortunately don’t have any good news to tell you, other than the fact that I am in good physical health, except for being bothered by the New York hear and humidity.  That last thing is really a serious excuse for not writing.  --- Your climate probably has not changed, so I hope to hear from you.  Greetings and kisses from

---

We saw related letters in the July 4 and July 22 posts. I believe that Otto was one of Paul’s cousins. He wrote and sent packages from Prague to Helene and Vitali when they were in the camps.

July 26

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Today we see firsthand one of the challenges of sending mail from Vienna to the U.S. Helene wrote three letters to different family members, all on the same page to save on postage and paper. It appears from what she writes that she sent this letter along with the one we saw on July 23.  The first part of the letter is to her children Eva and Harry. The second is to her cousin Bertha and the third is to her nephew Paul. Note that the censorship number next to Helene’s note Bertha is different from that for the ones in German – clearly there were censors with a variety of language skills. This probably made it take even longer for the letter to reach its destination. Apparently, mail to England was impossible at this point so she sends birthday greetings to her nephew Robert in London via his brother Paul.

Vienna, 26 July 1940

My dear children! Twice a week we have the topic of debate if we should keep writing letters even if we do not receive an answer. Papa defends his negative stance and while I agree with him in principle, I defend my yes opinion and give as justification for that that we live in abnormal times. Since we both want to be right, I just keep on writing, tirelessly writing, and Papa consistently posts my letters. It seems like none of them have gotten to you anyway. So, you can see why numbers 42 and 43 are in the same envelope. Eva’s letter is the last news we have had (July 3). We haven’t heard a single word from Harry since June 10. Not a single word, not even his dying word. We got a card from Mila yesterday in which she informed us that Paul had sent by telegram, that they still have the same address for the time being, but that they might leave and travel further into the interior of the country. (?) Otherwise, there’s really nothing worth mentioning from here. Everything is going the same way it always does. Really nothing at all gets in the way of the monotony of our existence, the disappointment of getting absolutely no mail from you at all is the exception. Since I intend to write to all of our dear ones today as far as my weak brain will allow it, I am going to close with hot kisses and a big hug.

Mutti

——-

Dear Bertha! News I have not to say, I only can say the same, always the same, thanks! Sometimes, when I get mail regularly, I don’t feel the separation with my children as grueling, but in days - like these - life is dreadful. The power of imagination produces phantasm very terrible and my nice visions are gone suddenly. My limbs execute their moves mechanically, my mind has not anything to do with it. In the morning and at noon (the time when our mail carrier visits our block) I awake out of my lethargy, to fall back, when no letter extricates me. How long will do it?

I hope you, George and your children are well. Sure, they will spend their holidays with you. Do they not? Hoping to hear well news soon, I remain yours truly

Helen

——-

Dear Paul! For such a long time I heard nothing from you and I am so hungry for a few lines which really don’t need to say anything except that you’re doing okay, but only if it’s true. I am so afraid for you that I cannot really describe to you how afraid I am and I even don’t want to. Tomorrow is Robert’s birthday and please give to him my good wishes. Although I’ve heard from the other side that there has been a disruption in postal deliveries, my fears are not set to rest so easily. Please write soon. With letters it’s like the lottery. If you have more tickets, you have more chance of winning. Even if you do not have the foolish luck to play once and win the grand prize. My letter of today seems rather like a lottery ticket. You have each a quarter of it and this is of no value.

Many kisses
Helen

July 25

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When translating my grandmother’s letters, we began with the typed letters to Helene’s children, which seemed most important and were most legible. My archivist sorted the letters by date, recipient, and the location they were found. Because of this, the handwritten letters to Paul were some of the last to be translated. As we have seen, these help us piece together the story of my family’s journey.

At the time of this letter, Eva and Harry are living in Istanbul to obtain passports to join Paul in America. In Vienna, Helene and Vitali are doing everything they can to organize their children’s passage. Paul is in New York, having arrived in the U.S. a few months earlier. He was sponsored by his mother’s cousin’s son Arthur Schiller (son of Bertha and George, with whom Eva would live when she arrived in San Francisco), a law professor at Columbia. Paul’s brother Robert has been in England for a few months. 

Vienna, 25 July 1939

Paul, why do you not write to me? I don’t know what I should think. Existential questions, different climate, tiredness, just no desire to write. Yeah, I know. I can imagine your situation, but just a postcard Paul, a postcard with just a few lines would be enough. It would free me of this pressure that I feel from your lack of writing. My fantasy does not come up with such beautiful flowers through my reading of trashy novels, but I live in Vienna and do you still remember a Wallace who needed to sit down to put out 300,000 editions for the army? Are you ever going to answer? We expect the children to be back soon when they have traveled in the shortest time, by ship. Arthur Schiller is at his parents’ house so I will probably have to ask you to take care of meeting the children and taking them in. Weren’t you in touch with the Schillers? Hasn’t he granted you any dispositions about the children? Bertha wrote to me that she hopes that the children will not arrive right when Arthur is not there, July-August. I don’t want to leave the children in Vienna any longer than I have to however. Papa Zentner told me good things about you about Dr. Heinz and French bread. Are you in touch with him? As soon as I know more details about the children’s departure, I will write to those two in case you may not be in New York, so they will be able to take care of them when they arrive.

Mela W wrote to me last week to ask how you are doing. Paula J also asked for your address, and Marie and Mila who have been in San Remo for 14 days to recover. This case, which in my opinion, is hopeless, in our circle of acquaintances has gone up in smoke. A letter from Robert, in whose health I believe very firmly, did bring me some joy. Few, in fact very few, familiar faces are here. The vacuum becomes greater every day. Please Paul, write, write, write.

Many kisses
Helen

---

We get a real feel for the urgency Helene feels and how quickly things are changing in Vienna. Helene is trying to work out the logistics from afar – who will be in New York to meet her children when they arrive in the U.S.? Their ultimate destination is San Francisco, so she wants to make sure an adult familiar with how things work will be there to meet them and facilitate their journey.

I did a quick search for “Wallace 300,000 army WWI” and found an article about Colonel William Wallace, who commanded an American unit in Italy in 1918. According to the article, although theirs was the only unit stationed there, the Austrians believed that they would be facing 300,000 men. Wallace decided to play on their fears and made it appear like he had many more men. The main definition of the word Auflagen is “edition”. Other definitions relate to printing terms like copies and impressions. Given Helene’s experience in newspapers and stationery perhaps she was alluding to how Wallace made it seem like there were many more “copies” of men.

July 23

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Today we have another letter from Helene in Vienna to her children in San Francisco. When the children came to the U.S., they were split up and sent to live with different relatives and attend different high schools.

Vienna, 23 July 1940

My dear children. It’s not easy for me to write to you today because I am very worried about Harry because I haven’t heard a single line from him. On the other hand, I don’t want to worry you or fill your heads with worry if it’s just a matter of a disreputable postal service, so you must keep in mind that I am worried and try to put yourself in my shoes, even if just for a few moments. Time is really dragging from one postal delivery to the next and the disappointed hopes when no letter arrives cause an emptiness which is quite agonizing. My attempts to form a halfway reasonable thought are not going to be as successful today. However, just to reassure you about how we are doing, I do assure you that we are healthy and everything is going fine except for the agonizing worry which does disappear when the writing from little Harry will appear, which we so desire. In lighter moments I say to myself that Eva’s dear little letter of the 3rd of this month is so filled with happiness that the thought that there could be anything wrong with Harry is absurd. But then come the evil thoughts like demons and they whisper to me: “How does Eva know how Harry is doing because they’re not together anymore?” I feel sorry for Papa who has to put up with my presence on such days. He really earns my admiration.

There’s a little showpiece from our wax figure shop: an old man, forgive the expression, but the man was old, even for an old man - he was closer to 100 than 90. He came into the store, trembling and halting, asked for a postcard of Egypt. While Papa was sticking Ramses into an envelope, the old guy said “One more time I’d like to climb up on a pyramid and spit on the entire world.” When Papa asked him “why do you want to go to so much trouble?”, he put his treasure in his pocket, coughing, he said his goodbyes and he left the store, and in his mind he was probably already back in the land of the Pharaohs. There’s got to be some sort of philosophy of life implied in this wish of the old man - to spit on the entire world, well, sure that’s a very freeing thought! I really can’t do anything more today. Maybe there’s mail from you on Friday and I will make everything right again. Please write in detail and soon and please say hello to all of our dear ones most sincerely.

In love,
Your Mutti
Helen

---

There is a handwritten note at the top that numbers this Letter as #42 since 2 letters were sent that were numbered #39. However, I do not have a #39 in my archive. We saw 2 letters with Clipper No. 40 in the post on July 19 — perhaps that is what Helene meant. Or perhaps letters #39 never made it to their destination.

As with the July 19 post, we have a window into the non-metaphysical world of Helene and Vitali’s stationery shop Libansky & Co, eking out a living selling pencil sharpeners and picture postcards.

Harry was a bit of a hoarder, but only in one room and more I think from a sense that everything could come in handy and that one never knows when you’ll need to escape and will have no resources. Not a surprising attitude, given his life experience. My mother Eva was similar. Neither Eva nor Harry were very good at organizing their possessions with any rhyme or reason. They tossed odd assortments of things into boxes and put them “away”, rarely being able to find something that had been put into a safe place. The boxes might have letters, photos, paper clips, pens, pads of paper, knick knacks, etc. Like a little box of treasure. Which my cousins and I thought of as junk.

In the last few years of Harry’s life, I helped him organize his things. I didn’t have a lot of hope about making progress, but it was a wonderful excuse to spend time with him. I made him promise not to throw out important papers or photos, and he kept that promise, as evidenced by this blog. He held out the prospect of our going through the photos one day when we were “done,” something I realized we’d never be.

On one of our sorting sessions, we came across the small leather portfolio in the photo below. It was in great condition and I didn’t think much of it. Something he’d hung onto but seemed ready to let go of. I was eager to add it to the pile to go to the thrift shop. However, when I opened the portfolio, there was the label, which meant nothing to me. Harry off-handedly mentioned that the label was from his parents’ shop in Vienna. I had never known the name and suddenly this worthless item was priceless to me. I took it home to keep it safe, so it wouldn’t be thrown back into a box of stuff, perhaps never to be unearthed again.

Below is a page of stationery stores from the 1925 phone book from Vienna. At the bottom of the left column, my grandmother’s name is listed as the proprietor of Libansky & Co. (highlighted in green)

July 22

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Today we have copies of letters sent from Paul Zerzawy in New York to Bohemian Union Bank in Prague and to Leo Schauer. We saw earlier letters from Leo Schauer in the July 4 post.

Paul has been in New York for a few months and has had trouble finding work. Paul seems to have been an unreliable correspondent, apologizing for how few letters he has written. Helene consistently complains about his silence. Paul seems to have written when there was important business to attend to. I sometimes wonder whether it was a sense of embarrassment and disappointment at not having been more successful that kept him from writing more often. His life in the U.S. was difficult, he did not find consistent work to support himself, let alone to have enough money to help his relatives abroad. Very different from being a successful attorney in Vienna.

The “emergency bank notes” Paul mentions may be related to the newspaper article we saw in the April 3 post.

From what I’ve been able to piece together from my letters and papers, Leo is Paul Zerzawy’s father’s 3rd wife Elise’s brother. Although he calls Elise “mother”, Paul was in his mid-20s and on his own when they married. Otto was some sort of Zerzawy cousin and worked at Union Bank. Fritz Orlik is Elise’s son from a previous marriage. We saw a letter from him from 1940 in the January 25 post.

New York, 24 July 1939

To the Bohemian Union Bank

Prague I., Graben.

I have on deposit with you K120,000 [Czech crowns] in emergency bank notes which are mortgaged with K60,000.

Hereby I communicate to you that I have changed my permanent address from Prag VII., Belcrediho 68. I ask that you make a note of my new address:

Mr. Paul Zerzawy, 718 West 178th Street, c/o Cooper, Apt. 44, New York City, U.S.A.

Very truly yours:

---

 24 July 1939

Dear Leo!

I am sending this letter to you to tell you that I followed your advice exactly and I thank you for the advice. The letter is for all of you though. I ask you not to blame me if I did not write directly to you. Up until now, rather, I sent my greetings through my mother and I let you know my news that way. Since you have read my letters, you are informed about me. You understand what it is like to write letters in the famous New York heat, or humidity rather. You see it in my spelling errors. I imagine the number of letters I owe is about 60, but you understand however that one has psychic considerations, one feels sort of stuck because one cannot yet really say what would be by far the most interesting thing about my letters: that I can in fact support myself. Except for that I am doing well and I don’t really worry about myself, but only abut about you, how it’s going in the other half of the world and what the future may bring. I thank you that you are taking care of Mother and our affairs. I would like to know that Anny is in England and hear that Fritz and Hanne have sent news. Please when you write to your loved ones, please greet them for me too and I will write in time myself. 

Many greetings from your

[On side of letter:]

If provisions should be necessary for my affairs which could not be taken care of in letters that I wrote before I left to my mother, please get in touch with Otto Z who has my written power of attorney.

July 21

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Today we have a letter from Harry in Quartermaster Training at Fort Francis E. Warren, Wyoming from Harry Lowell to his sister Eva in San Francisco.

July 19, 1943

Dear Sister,

Thank you for your kind letter which I am answering promptly.

Well, I might get a furlough in the very nearest future, and on the other hand I might not. So you see how things stand. The army has a way to keep you in suspension and to disappoint you, and vice versa. You never know what you are going to do the next hour.

What’s the latest dope on the nurses’ draft bill? I hope you can get into the Army Nurse Corps. Have you tried to appeal to that draft board yet? I think, that in spite of the fact that you can’t volunteer, there is a way to get in provided you use a little of your innate wisdom & spunk and also a bit of acting. You might mention the fact that you got your little brother in the armed forces and all that. It’s worth trying, Eva! 

Say, I want to stand up in the defense of those lieutenants that seemed to be too good to dance on the same floor with the servicemen, as you stated. Army etiquette forbids commissioned officers to mingle with servicemen – you see it wasn’t the fault of the lieutenants entirely. Officers are not allowed into U.S.O.’s or other servicemen’s activities. This is part of many teachings that come under “discipline.” Even while the WAC’s were only WAAC’s, army officers were forbidden to date non-commissioned WAAC’s and vicey versey.

I spend my Sundays swimming at the lake and getting tanned, thus enjoying my stay here as much as possible. As you know, I have changed my opinion about Cheyenne and have pronounced it a pretty nice town. Ugh, I have spoken. Life is sweet and tender. 

I got a letter from Bertha telling me about the arrival of Don and Jerry; I take it that they are keeping her quite occupied.

During the last week I saw a bit of beautiful scenery of Wyoming and Colorado. We drove the army trucks all over the country. I was driving and at the same time admiring ze wonders of nature. It’s a beautiful country, indeed. Come up and see it sometime, eh toots?

It seems that we are making a lot of progress in the various theaters of war. Maybe I’ll bask under the sun of Italy, looking at the waves of the Adriatic Sea, or enjoy the company of a petite mademoiselle de la France, or even have a few drinks in Heidelberg. What a vacation that would be, ah. (Daydreaming again, tsk, tsk.) 

Anyway I’ll write you a card from any place I should happen to be.

Will you kindly excuse my writing today; it’s somewhat on the scribbling side on account of je ne sais pas.

Well, adios hermana mía; maybe I see you soon, yes, no?

Your brother,
Harry.

P.S. Don’t forget what I told you about trying to get into the Nurse Corps. So long, Lieutenant!

---

In just a few months, Harry has gotten the hang of being in the army – there are no certainties – when and whether he can get a furlough, where he might be stationed, etc. He has no control over his life — this must have fed right into the family sense of fatalism.

It is interesting that Eva apparently wasn’t able to volunteer for the Army Nurse Corps. I assume it’s because she wasn’t yet a citizen. Harry on the other hand was able to enlist and to expedite his citizenship. Eva didn’t become a citizen until early in 1945. Congress didn’t get very far in considering drafting women until early 1945 . By then, Eva was married and would have been ineligible.

This letter clarifies a missing link on the family tree – her grandchildren were named Don and Jerry. 

Harry writes that “Life is sweet and tender” which is echoed on an undated photo I have of him in uniform. Perhaps he sent the photo with this letter? Seeing it twice in his writing made me wonder whether it was a line from Goethe. A search on Goethe yielded nothing, but I found an operetta by Franz Lehar with a song entitled “Friends, life is well worth living!” by Paul Knepler and Fritz Löhner-Beda. According to Wikipedia, the operetta in 1934 in Vienna was performed for a few years premiered, but did not get much attention elsewhere.

Harry peppers his letter with French and Spanish, reminding us that he aspired to be multi-lingual like his father (see July 5 post)

Although Harry only writes of the present as an American soldier, I like to think that his quoting the memory of a song their mother would have sung with them and his throwing in bits of other languages is a reminder of their parents and their shared past.

July 20

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Today we have a letter from Yomtov Cohen, one of Vitali’s relatives (a nephew or cousin?) in Istanbul. We have seen previous letters he wrote trying to facilitate her release and emigration to the U.S. to rejoin her children at last. Helene arrived in Istanbul two months earlier in a prisoner trade which liberated her from Ravensbrück and has been living as a prisoner in Istanbul as well. In a few of Harry’s letters to his sister Eva (see May 17, June 5 and July 13 posts), it is clear he is frustrated about not being in San Francisco to help her bring their mother over. Letters and memos from the Joint, which was paying for housing for the prisoners in Istanbul, talk about trying to move people though as quickly and economically as possible (see July 10 post). I assume I have this letter because it was sent to Eva in San Francisco to help her understand what steps were necessary to speed up her mother’s release. This letter touches on yet another worry for Helene – will she be “encouraged” (pressured?) to go to Palestine instead of waiting for the resources to get to her desired destination?

---

Istanbul, July 20, 1945

Dear Mrs. Helene,

I have received your valued letter.

According to your wishes, I sent one of my employees to the American Vice Consul to find out something about your case.  He was informed that the papers having to do with the affidavit have not been received yet.  To speed things up, it would be necessary for Eva in America to expedite sending in the relevant documents.  Can you write to your daughter and send me the letter so that I can send it on to her via airmail?

As far as the registrations are concerned, my employee was given the enclosed form which you should kindly answer and return to me so that your request may be registered at the American Consulate.  However, I have the impression that the matter will take quite a while.  Thus, expediting the matter in America could speed things up here.

Could you please let me know what your situation is here.  Will you be able to stay here longer, or will you be encouraged to go to Palestine?

Expecting, as always, your valued news, I remain

Yomtov

July 19

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Today we have two separate letters sent from Helene in Vienna to her children Eva and Harry. She has written “No. 40” on the top of each, meaning it’s the 40th letter (or pair of letters) she has sent to them since they left Vienna for San Francisco in October 1939.

 Vienna, 19 July 1940

My beloved child Eva! Your last letter from July 3 restored the balance of my soul again. 14 days I was without any news and I was walking around with my face looking like little Harry when he was in the theater for the first time and kept saying “My name is Ernst. I am Ernst, I want to remain Ernst for the entire day because I have lost the laugh” [pun: Ernst means “serious”]. I lost my laugh because I haven’t heard anything from Harry since the 10th of June and I did not even get the “surprise letter” from you. If Harry were in his familiar surroundings, it would be ridiculous to be so worried, but since I don’t know where he is hanging around, I am very disturbed by the lack of letters from him. From your letter which reached me the day before yesterday, I can see also that the previous letter from you did not arrive since you mention a topic only in passing with the remark that you would have mentioned it anyway. It was about the communication that you sometimes even after dinner can go out. I am happy about that and would like to know more about what you are doing, especially about the treatment. Your shyness has rather amused me, as did your transformation, my damaged little soul. If you had stayed here, you would be justified criticizing girls for whom taking advantage seems quite natural and has to do with their philosophy of life.  In America, this seems to be quite different - the poorest devil thinks that he should behave in a knightly fashion and take a lady out even if he cannot afford lunch the next day. It strikes me as kind of funny that I am here giving you a lecture about living in the United States when you are actually living there. I am only doing this based on my reading and on the tales that Bertha and Tillie tell. However, I did find it quite astonishing this custom that the woman would pay for the bill herself when the man is also there: no, that is my trip. Flowers, candy, even a book, you can accept that from a gentleman and that doesn’t commit you to anything.* That seems to be a Central European oddity that when you are paid for that you need to return the favor. I am feeling like I’m being rather pretentious to discuss this with you since you are someone who has traveled much further than I have, and really I could learn a lot from you. So there it is, I am more curious than I was when I was younger. Does Harry write to you? What is Paul doing and have you heard from little Robert? There is not much to tell from our end of things. If it is not pouring at 5 o’clock, I’ll pick up Papa, and then we go to run errands or decide to go get an ice cream or we watch the weekly news in a movie theater where we perhaps see a little bit of California, Texas, or Pennsylvania. Through your letters we are sometimes reminded of the Prater and the prairies seem closer than the Hauptallee. Since The Cohens don’t get to go to the Prater, the Prater has to come to the Cohens. And it does. Not really that the Ferris wheel comes shaking towards us or that the elevated way finds its way to Seidlegasse, no, but the flea circus didn’t visit us either. But the mosquitoes did. [quotes a song about nasty beasts going for naked knees] But they make concessions for me since I don’t have my knees naked in bed. They decorate my arms, neck and nape with a very artistic but painful design as if on a quilt. Is it because these sweet little things don’t dare touch Papa perhaps since he has the original quilt all the way up to his chin, or the smell of his self-invented hair cream? If I were this mosquito, I would prefer silver Roman coins. When he saw my beautifully decorated skin, Papa was very sympathetic and showered me with sweet attention and hot tea at breakfast. It’s so unusual for him he’s not used to being so sweet to ladies in order to win over their hearts. Jo knows all about that because he throws her out all the time. By the way, Jo did not receive your most recent letter She says hello to you and also to Alf. If you know his address, please send him a card and send her greetings on to him. So my sweet golden child, please write me in detail and often because we have to realize that not all letters arrive and therefore we have these nerve wracking pauses in our communication which really drive us crazy; they rob us of our last shred of sanity. If old Galotti had known me his statement that “he has no one to lose” would have been even more justified. I should stop now says my paper and I will obey. My most sincere kisses.

Mutti

*I preached this to you at the time.

As in letters we saw earlier in the year (see January 24 and February 5 posts), Helene tries to give motherly advice, even from afar. The distance is vast — both in miles and between the old and new worlds. It must have been heartbreaking to “watch” her children grow up without her and know how much she has missed.

Helene’s quotation is from Gotthold Lessing’s 1772 play Emilia Galotti:

Wer über gewisse Dinge seinen Verstand nicht verlieret, der hat keinen zu verlieren!
Whoever doesn't lose his mind about certain things has none to lose!

According to Wikipedia, Goethe referred to the play in his 1774 novel The Sorrows of Young Werther. I don’t know whether the play was produced in early 20th century Vienna, but she would have encountered it when reading Goethe!

---

 Vienna, 19 July 1940

Harry, Harry, have you completely forgotten your mother? Why don’t you write? For God’s sake it can’t be that all your letters have gotten lost. Or can it be from all that driving around chauffeuring that you are not physically able to write? I am just so happy I received a report from little Everl yesterday but since she does write as she should, the interval is not so great even when every now and then one of her letters doesn’t arrive. Paul has apparently already forgotten what it’s like when one is waiting for mail. He is a person who always busy even when he has nothing to do. Tillie doesn’t answer any of my letters and that really bothers me. What’s the matter? Papa sends me to the door 10 times with his “Hey, doorbell’s ringing.” And I run to the door relying on his hearing which is better than mine to see if there might be a letter from you even though I know that at this time of day mail is never delivered. There are so many amazing wonders that one experiences - why shouldn’t a letter from you arrive at a wonderful time? Meals are the best time for celebrating reminiscences and thinking about you. We were in fact just at table for a meal in the greatest of moods. When I’m spreading butter on my bread, Vitali says “your son would have been able to use that much butter on 14 pieces of bread” (14! think of it). And if I put sugar in my tea he says “you eat too much, you’re getting too fat. Why don’t you use your daughter as an example?” And with such sentimental jokes, we pass the time and breakfast. There was an amusing intermezzo a few days ago in our store. A man asked for a globe. Papa hands him one and the customer turns it around in his hand a few times. Papa says “well, don’t look for the Danube, they don’t really have that much detail on these things.” The man takes the pencil sharpener, pays for it and goes away. After a while he came back. Papa thought maybe he wanted to return this huge purchase. He came in said hello and grinned. He said “OK, OK.” The customer laughed and Papa echoed his “hoho”. But then Papa decided, although he usually doesn’t worry about the mood his customers are in, that he wanted to know why this guy was so cheerful. And the man said “Well now I can say I have the whole world in my pocket!” Papa was happy when the man closed the door behind him. We still have plenty of pencil sharpeners, which have pictures of various things on them. Who knows what they might inspire our customers to do. Anyway, we had a good laugh over this strange hermit of a fellow.

It’s late now and I must think about getting lunch together. I’ll write in more detail next time. I just ask you to please write soon and repeat what you said in the letters that have probably gotten lost. The last letter we had from you is dated 10 June.

I hug you most eternally,

Mutti

Helene and Vitali are hungry for both news and food. Helene probably could never have received enough news from her family, but in reality she wasn’t receiving all of the letters that had been sent, and there was often a long time lag between the sending and receiving. They had little money to pay for whatever food was available in the markets. So they made light of their meager meals and imagine they were eating rare delecacies (see January 29 post). It’s hard to imagine how they survived on what little income that came in from selling stationery supplies and repairing fountain pens. No wonder Vitali began his metaphysical career in the back of the store. If you do a search for “globe pencil sharpeners 1930s German” you can see the type of item mentioned.

July 18

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

A letter from Helene in Vienna to her nephew Paul Zerzawy in San Francisco:

Vienna, 18 July 1941

Dear Paul! I took stock of things today, but it’s pretty sad. I have written 48 letters to the children since the beginning of the year, but I have received only 10. It is 4 dozen letters: 1) I have not included letters of a different date when they were sent on the same day but in one envelope, 2) letters to you, Hilda, the Zentners, the Schillers, etc. when they were sent to your separate addresses. As you see, my writing business is passive and it must bring up feelings in you about 1870. I am turning to you therefore because I am looking for some sort of resolution. The problem is as you see not coming from me. Of the 10 letters I’ve gotten from the children, the first 7 came closed and they appeared regularly in the first 7 weeks of the year. The other 3 appeared in intervals of 3 months. Since the last 2 were filled with matters of our emigration and made up for the prospect of not getting any mail, we were able to endure this unpleasant situation rather more easily. But since this hope turned out to be fallacious, the lack of letters is appearing twice as painful to me at this point. Do you think that fate has let itself play a bad trick on us? Why? We were so close to getting our goal in life, our happiness and our bliss, come to fruition. We have heard that the children can obtain something in Washington to cause the embassy in Berlin to give us an exit visa. At some point the documents would have to be deposited and this does seem plausible and I don’t think it’s “Bonkes” (a technical term for non-Aryan fairy tales). Please take steps to make sure this happens. It is very very urgent and please let us know if you can’t, where we can turn. About 100 people did get permission to emigrate to Cuba but as we’ve already written, we decided to refrain from such a request because there are new kinds of bother and annoyance with us and apparently doing this requires putting up a certain sum for a deposit. But perhaps you know more about these possibilities over there than the religious community here does. Please Paul, could you take an interest in this and get us some news?

I hope that you are all doing well and I request that you send my best greetings to everybody. Hugging you and greeting you in the best way I can.

Helen

---

Their July 15 departure date has come and gone and Helene and Vitali are back at the drawing board. They have given up their business and gotten rid of most of their possessions. Having culled to the bare necessities they could take in the few kilos of luggage they were allowed to take on their journey, they now have very few clothes and resources left. They find themselves right back where they began their efforts to emigrate two years earlier. But the paperwork and bureaucracy are virtually insurmountable at this point. There are rumors of ways to expedite the process and Helene places her confidence in her nephew to make it happen. As I read through all the letters, I think about how this responsibility must have weighed on Paul. Although he had been a successful attorney in Europe, in the U.S. he has no resources, credentials, and few language skills to tackle these virtually impossible obstacles. He must have felt helpless and a failure — wanting so much to help his beloved aunt and her husband escape, but being unable to do so.

Helene mentions 1870 as a memorable year for Paul and perhaps herself. Neither had been born yet. Since she is writing this letter on July 18 from Austria which has been annexed by Germany, she is probably referring to a momentous date in European history: Napoleon III declared war on Prussia on July 19, beginning the the Franco-Prussian War. Germany won the war in 1871 and emerged far more powerful. (The only other events I could find that might have been of interest to them both: the concert hall in Vienna that housed the Vienna Philharmonic opened in January and Charles Dickens died in June. In terms of dates of personal importance, Paul Zerzawy’s father Julius was born on September 9, 1870.)

July 16

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Today’s letter from 1944 to Harry’s sister Eva is from his commanding officer. We saw a letter from 1945 from this same officer on June 18, sent from a different APO. Between 1944 and 1945, Good was promoted from Major to Lieutenant Colonel.

HEADQUARTERS
83D QM Bn Mobile
APO 928

16 July, 1944

SOMEWHERE IN THE SOUTHWEST PACIFIC AREA

Miss Eva M. Lowell
3494 Twenty-First Street
San Francisco, California

Dear Miss Lowell:

Your brother, Private Harry Lowell, joined our battalion headquarters staff as a Supply Clerk in May, 1944.

Since being here in the Southwest Pacific, your brother has been awarded the Asiatic Pacific Ribbon, the Bronze Star, and the Good Conduct Medal.

Your brother is doing a fine job and you and your community has every reason to feel proud of your brother. 

Bruce A. Good
BRUCE A. GOOD
Major, QMC
Commanding

---

Harry jokes in his letter of July 13, 1945 that the letter from his colonel should be framed. At first I thought he was referring to this letter, but it must have been the one from June 18, 1945. Why did he send this letter? I recall my mother saying that someone Harry served with was interested in dating her. Perhaps it was Major Good who wrote this hoping to get in her good graces?

July 15

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Today was the day Helene and Vitali were to have boarded the ship to America. Instead, they found themselves still in Vienna. Due to the disappointment, Helene confused the date when typing the letter. From the contents, it’s clear she wrote it on July 15 -- as I assume Paul Zerzawy wrote in pencil to clarify. Paul often noted the arrival date on letters he received.

Vienna, 15. April 1941 (in pencil: July? Arrived August 5)

My dear children! It’s more than 30 degrees in the shade [86 degrees Fahrenheit] and it’s pretty extreme when you don’t know whether you’re a man or a woman. I do in fact know that we should have been on a ship today had things lined up right both in heaven and on earth, but we are doing nothing but wiping sweat from our brow. I just came from one of those paths from which the devil must have been responsible. I went with Papa. Result? “And here, poor fool, I stand once more; No wiser than I was before.” Papa who apparently thought that he hadn’t run around enough yet, said good-bye to me so that I could prepare the meal for him and he decided to keep wandering around in an attempt to gather memories of his existence in Vienna.

Yesterday there was a terrible thunderstorm. For us it was a grandiose nature spectacle; for others whose nerves reacted differently, spent a fear-filled sleepless night. We, however, were ecstatically breathing in large gulps of the air that had been cleaned by the storm, enjoying it to the fullest. How appropriate, I want to Züge! [a pun meaning both to board a train and to breathe] When there are temperatures like this, it is not really much of a pleasure to travel, but perversely we seem to be assessing it differently, because we are really looking forward to it. We would really just like to know when, where, and where to. To find this out, we have both needed to hurry up. But the heat paralyzed me – otherwise I would have been behaving like a volcano  -- Etna and Vesuvius could have learned from me.

Since it’s really not sure yet when we will be able to grace the Western Hemisphere with our presence, I am going to switch over to waiting for the mail again. Get started! A few days ago, it looked like I would be able to get the mail myself, but the storm was so bad that that idea went away as soon as it showed up.

What did that old shoe maker say? Oh, don’t ignore it. Bravo. Today in my dream, a cavalry officer known to me - well this is to amuse you - well, he did a somersault with his horse and he did it in a goldfish pond. I don’t think I’ll have to do a dangerous jump to entertain you.

Until then, many letters will be written. I’m at 114, how about you?

Many, many unnumbered kisses from the old world. Greetings to everyone, whose names I will not list because it would probably cost too much to mail. Please don’t forget anybody.

Helen

---

Helene is still hopeful that all will work out despite the delay. I so admire her resilience. She will not lose hope that she will see her children soon. She is full of puns and word play. As usual, the quotation is from Part I of Goethe’s Faust: “Da steh ich nun, ich armer Tor, und bin so klug als wie zuvor.”

I assume it was not a coincidence that the sentence about getting the mail herself included the words “helen können” -- a play on her own name. Helene gets right back to letter writing, continuing to number her missives to keep track of how many make it to their destination. At the same time, her kisses remain numerous but unnumbered.