September 19

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Today we see a postcard in English to Paul Zerzawy in New York from Fritz Orlik who has just arrived in Tel Aviv. At this point, much of the family was on the move, or trying their best to flee Europe: earlier in the year, Robert Zerzawy had made it to England and Paul to New York. Fritz was the son of Paul’s father Julius’s third wife. Julius had died in January 1939.

20 September 1939

Dear Paul

After a long odyssey we landed in Tel Aviv ... and will leave it tomorrow and go to Fritz Pekarek, Haifa P.O.B. 685. As we have been informed by our mother you have already a job and we are glad that you have found already an existence. Mother told us further on that you received the money from the Stopford Fund and that we shall call to you for our deal. In consequence of the extremely long journey the costs for ... too high that all our money has gone away for the Bonded. So don’t be angry when we beg you to send us as early as possible to the address: Leo Zwicker, Haifa, Joseph Rechov 15. Of course we have not yet a job and just now it is very hard to find work, but we are hopeful. Please write to us soon and also to mother that we arrived. Your Fritz and Hanne 

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In the January 25 post, we read a letter from Fritz several months later which again mentions the Stopford Fund. In Paul’s reply in the March 21 post, he mentions that he sent a reply to the letter we see above, but it apparently never reached its destination. Paul makes it clear in his response that his life is not as successful as Fritz’s mother indicated. At this time, neither Paul nor Fritz have a permanent address and both are staying with relatives or acquaintances.

In the April 3 post, we saw a newspaper article Paul saved which described British efforts to help Czech Jews leave Europe.

September 18

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Today’s Red Cross letter between parents in Vienna and children in San Francisco has many different dates, including a postmark from September 18, 1943 which is why we see it today. It includes a note signed by Vitali (Haim), addressed to Eva at her nursing school address, and a reply from Eva dated October 7, 1943.

75 Postage taken
20 January 1943

German Red Cross
Foreign Service Headquarters
Berlin

Application to the Central Agency of Prisoners of War, Geneva — International Committee of the Red Cross — to send a message

1. Sender:        Haim Seneor Cohen
Vienna, II./27 Haasgasse 10/16

Requests to send this to
Relationship: Children

2. Recipient:
Eva Maria Lowell
2200 Poststreet – Nursingschool
San Francisco, California, USA

(Maximum 25 words to transmit the following)

My Beloved!

On Harry’s birthday we received the first answer back. We are overjoyed, also healthy. We hope that soon additional answers will come. Birthday and other kisses to all.

Signed: Haim Seneor Cohen

Date 14 January 43

3. Recipient answer on back of letter.

4. Recipient answer
(25 words maximum)

We are all well working successfully. Hope to see you after the war. We think of you constantly.

Love,
Signed: Eva Lowell

Date: Oct. 7, 1943

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This letter traveled between the two countries over the course of a year, beginning on January 14 when their parents wrote to wish Harry a happy 19th birthday and with a final postmark of December 18, 1943. There are German postmarks from January 20, February 10, and December 16; American postmarks dated August 24 and September 18. The letter that began its journey in January appears not to have reached its original destination until 7 months later. Given that I have the letter in my possession and the last postmark is an American one, all I can figure out is that the letter was returned to Eva to show that her reply had been received by her parents.

Clearly, they were seldom allowed to correspond, and even then, they were limited to 25 words – not quite as long as a Twitter post.

We saw an earlier Red Cross letter from May 1942 in the May 12 post when their parents wrote to send Eva birthday greetings. That letter went in only one direction and took a little more than two months to arrive. In 1942 Helene and Vitali were still at the same apartment they had lived in with their children. By the time of today’s letter, they had been forced to move to an address at Haasgasse in the Jewish quarter. According to historian Corry Guttstadt, before the occupation the building had originally been a home for Jewish girls. By this time, it housed Jews who had been evicted from their own apartments, usually the last address in Vienna before being deported.

Location of Vitali and Helene’s addresses in Vienna.

No matter how dire the situation, Helene and Vitali wanted their children to know that they were in their hearts – they couldn’t let a birthday go by without acknowledging it.

September 17

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Today’s charming letter from 1943 is from Harry to his sister Eva in San Francisco and gives us a vivid description of life in the army. He is in southern California at the Desert Training Center which we read about in the August 18 post. He never actually served under desert conditions – hopefully some of what he learned proved useful in the humid South Pacific.

San Bernardino, Calif.
September 17

Dear Sister,

The trouble with the community-reading of my mail is that all news are exhausted after the writing of the second letter to the folks. Consequently there is nothing left for me to tell you. Whenever I write to either Hilda or Tillie I must do a bit of thinking before putting anything down lest I repeat myself. Caramba, she is tough! Well, I’ll do my best not to say anything you already know.

Now let me see – no, there isn’t a thing to tell you. How about talking about the weather? It’s pretty warm right now, how are you? I am fine.

Did you finally say adios to the place you so lovingly spent the last three years at? Have you found any place to stay yet? In case of emergency I could put in a requisition for an old tent which I could send to you.

I couldn’t dine with Tillie the other day because of a restriction of the whole company to the company area. I was really sorry to miss that dinner because we have been fed the most abominable slop imaginable. Fresh food in this camp is almost unheard of: the menu consists of canned meat or hash, powdered eggs, canned fruit juice, powdered tomato juice, even canned potatoes and onions, no fresh milk – nothing fresh at all. So you can imagine how I felt when I saw a good steak dinner at the California Hotel pass me up, just like that.

With the return of the horse and buggy, many other commodities of yesterday have found a new place in this new era. I am writing this letter by the quaint light of three candles. There is no electricity in this company except in the bath and shower room; but there is too much noise with crap games and the radio going on.

During the three days of restriction I wrote a letter every night as I could do nothing but that. You know, I admire those fellows who sit down every day for a few hours to write letters.

I am getting rather sleepy so I’d better close this little communiqué with a cheerio.

Your favorite brother,
Harry.

P.S. Please excuse the mistakes this machine has made; it didn’t go further than the fifth grade. It can’t spell yet. 

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We have seen in previous posts how family members shared each precious letter with each other. I am grateful for the practice since that means I have a lot more letters in my family papers than I would have. Cousin Paul Zerzawy kept all the letters in his possession; Harry kept all of Paul’s and his mother’s, as well as a handful of Harry’s own letters that were sent to Bertha and Hilda.

At this point, Eva have recently graduated from nursing training at Mt. Zion and had to move from the student quarters on Post Street in San Francisco:

Tillie was visiting San Bernardino and hoped to see Harry – a postcard from the California Hotel makes it looks like Harry missed out on a fine meal.

September 16

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Today we have part of a letter from soldier Paul Zerzawy to his family in Brüx, Bohemia. The letter appeared to be complete and several pages long, including a signature on the last page. Only upon getting it translated did I realize that the pages were from two completely different letters!

In addition to hearing about the family, Paul provides more details about the flour that he wrote about in the letters we saw on September 3 and 14.

16. September 1918

My dear ones!

I am writing to all of you together again because I figured out from Grandmother’s last letter, or rather, from the letter enclosed by Robert, that he and Käthl will be back home by the time this letter reaches you.

I hope that both of them had a good summer vacation which will have a lasting effect on their health. From your letters, it seems like only good news, except for the flu, which hopefully Robert has recovered from by now without any bad consequences.

I was less happy to hear that dear Grandmother is not eating well, or that this had been the case. Why is there no evening meal in the mess? And what are these problems which Robert mentions in his letter to Grandmother with the “fine gentlemen”? Who are they and why do you not write to me about these things?

I haven’t heard anything from Papa in a long time. Are you still hearing from Erich? If you are, please write to him what might be of interest about me and write to him that I cannot write him directly. My cards came back with the annotation “invalid.”

I am in very good shape. My illness was not the flu, but it originated in stomach and intestines, due to the effect of the heat on certain foods. This illness is very common here and usually affects people who come here from a different climate. Particularly vacationers, etc. By the way, the heat is now diminishing and the nights are becoming cool. For this reason, please prepare my winter things and 4-6 pairs of socks. Then when I write to ask for it, everything will be ready to send. Please also put in the box a few nails to make boxes so that you can hear the nails when I shake the box and write on the box: “Contents: nails for boxes, etc.” Because “laundry” would probably get lost.

Keep sending boxes with little bags and nails in them so that I can send home flour as long as I have the opportunity to do so. At this time there are all kinds of changes in the division of troops. At any moment, I may end up in less favorable circumstances or I will be sent to the new regiment being formed in Italy. As I already wrote to you the day before yesterday, I have about 130kg of flour here which will be sent little by little. Please be very careful and use dry storage with no smell, possibly in very well-closed boxes (because of the mice). But please air it out more often. Especially the wheat! Please do not talk about this and do not give anything to acquaintances for the time being. If I should have the opportunity to give you enough for the whole year, and if on top of that I can accumulate an extra supply, then I will think about sending some to our good friends. Only if you think that you owe somebody a favor or you want their gratitude, please write to me and I will send a few kg from here to those specific people. Helena, Aunt Marie and Luise already are receiving something from me. Above all, save as much as possible. Also, try to build up a supply. If you end up not needing the extra, it will be very good to trade for cooking fat since I can hardly send any fat to you.

Tomorrow two boxes, number 11 and 12, will be sent to Robert’s address. In addition, the following have gone to Grandmother:

(without number)        15 August       approx 7kg      Bread flour
“                                  23 August        6-7kg              Corn flour
No. 5                           3 September     approx 8kg     wheat flour
No. 6                           6 September    approx 8kg      wheat flour
No. 7                          10 September   approx 8kg      wheat flour

Tomorrow I will send Robert:

No 11                         17 September   approx 8kg      pure flour
No 12                         17 September   approx 8kg      pure flour

Please write to me with number, date, and contents — always which boxes have arrived and in what condition. I will talk about the money with Papa. The cost for me for 1kg of flour with packaging, tips, etc amounts to about 2.80kr. On top of this, there is postage which you pay…

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Paul continues to urge the family to be cautious, not to draw any attention to the valuable supplies that are arriving. He also asks them to make packages they send to him look like they contain hardware rather than clothing, because the latter tended to go missing while the former would be unattractive to those who handled the mail.

Paul has concerns about how things are at home, but cannot assist them from so far away. We learn that Robert had the flu, but unlike millions of people, he recovered. In later letters, it sounded like he didn’t have a very strong constitution – perhaps like those who recovered from the 1889 flu and perhaps “long COVID” today, survivors suffered ill effects for years to come. Although Paul mentions an illness, he assures everyone that it was not the flu, but probably food poisoning due to the heat.

Paul mentions that his letters to Erich have been returned as undeliverable. It wasn’t until after the war that he discovered that his brother had fled the prison camp (and presumably died) in July 1918 – see January 12 post.

September 15

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Today’s letter is from Robert Zerzawy in London to his aunt Helene Cohen in San Francisco.

15/9/63

Still for the time being:
35, Matlock Court
Kensington Park Rd.
London, W. 11.

My dear Helene,

I ask myself rather horrifiedly how it happened that almost 8 weeks will have gone by before my thanks to you for your good thoughts on my birthday will reach you. Of course, immediately when I got your so welcome letter in that old handwriting that has hardly changed at all, then I sat down and started writing but then the old habit repeats itself — I wanted to tell you about so many things that somehow I got all meshed together and I didn’t finish it. That’s what happens to one’s successors. You have talked about your own physical condition and in the interaction of problems with circulation, depression, and other problems, which I understand only too well since I myself specialize in this. You will understand how it could be that one can get all tied up mentally and how there’s not a simple answer to these complicated conditions, how over simple it seems to outsiders.

Generally, I agree with your doctors: there are nerve problems of various kinds and on a human level, those rude vulgar slips of memory, and displacement require our concentration and what I would like to call intellectual memory. One can certainly see in your letter that you are still a match to most people in your ability to express yourself.

I’m always happy about the flashlights from the family life of Eva and Harry and their respective children. How often I wished I was closer and could participate. I can imagine what joy and interest they bring to your life.

I admire you very much for undertaking a handwritten report. This is a comfort to me and a joy. I hope to amuse you by repeating it here. You have proved to yourself that you can do it. Don’t overdo like I did. Try as much as you can. You have such lofty aspirations, just write what you can.

In my and Anne’s life in the last weeks, many things have happened. This is part of the reason for the delay in my writing. My employer, the colorful Bayer factory, which you probably know as the inventor of aspirin, has decided to open a new chemistry office in England, where I now work and where Anne also has a nice job. That all happened quite quickly and as would also be the case where you are, there are certain complications, such as finding a good location for it, getting it set up, and all furnished. We were quite busy with that and with getting a house at the same time. A well-situated house of the right size and in good condition and for a price we could afford -- finding this takes patience, tenacity, and a car, which we were able to buy a few months ago. I got this even though I am not of the appropriate age. The necessary mortgage loan and negotiations went along so that we were able to move in in October.

So these are very positive developments, and I feel that I am just about to get it all together and reach my goal. I have a good friend to thank for all of this, who was actually my subordinate when I worked in Immenstadt in Bavaria in a [hemp or crafts?] factory. Thanks to his talents and responsible nature, he became the director of this large company, one of the 2 or 3 men who are responsible for large international companies with 65,000 employees. Thomas Anpham [?], of English descent like his name indicates, and may be the most valuable person I have met in life and has many wonderful human qualities. I don’t mean to emphasize that his fate wasn’t easy and he suffered the blemishes of Naziism.

I always make sure not to be overly cheerful or in high spirits and not to forget the many hard times that I have experienced. Maybe that sounds rather pompous. I hadn’t meant it that way. I notice that Anne and I too easily take [?] for granted, which is not how it ought to be.

Actually, not that long ago I had thought about retiring or leading a semi-retired life and dealing with my various ailments. The Bayer matter gave me motivation again. We will have to see how long that lasts. In any case, it will be easier to get by in our own house if needs be. And for Anne, to a certain extent at least, it is something to take care of.

Helen, I’ll end this letter for today. Maybe I’d better send this letter off to you. Because there’s still room, I must tell some news. I am writing on a sunny Monday afternoon, taking advantage of the nice weather. I feel the visit would be ideal for the purposes of writing. Well, Helen, thanks again for your letters and tales. I hope you’ll sleep better and get along with the other things that are festering. Well, I feel the old family connection here.

Your Powidl

Note: Anne says hello of course and is sending greetings to Eva and Paul, Harry, Marie and the offspring, whether they know us or not.

P.S. Didn’t know of Tilly Zentner’s passing away nor of Hilda’s divorce, re-marriage and second divorce.

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Even well into his 60s, Robert signs his childhood nickname Powidl –  referring to a popular plum spread -- when writing to his beloved aunt, his closest living relative and the only person left who shared a history of early 20th Century life in Bohemia and knew his mother, grandmother, and siblings. See also August 8 post.

At age 64, Robert finally feels that he has landed on his feet professionally and is able to create a comfortable life. What mixed feeling he must have had to be working for the English branch of Bayer, a German company that thrived during the war while being involved in despicable acts!

As we’ve seen in other letters from Robert, he and Helene were kindred spirits. Both had emotional temperaments and seemed more negatively affected by life’s many difficulties and challenges than were other members of the family.

September 14

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In the September 3 post, we learned of Paul Zerzawy’s efforts to send wheat to his family in 1918 to supplement the little rations available by the end of the war. Today is a follow up letter.

14.9.1918

Dear Grandmother!

The contents of my last letter no longer applies with regards to grinding the flour, because I have been able to exchange all of the wheat, which is about 180 kg, for 130 kg of very beautiful, pure flour which, however, is not completely white. I will send some of it to Helene. Maybe, also to the Roubischeks. I will send most of it to you as soon as I have enough boxes.

I’m asking you again to deal with this flour very carefully. Mostly you will need it next spring and summer when bread rations will be limited again. It is very doubtful that I will have the opportunity to buy more flour in large quantities, especially since I do not know if I will remain here.

Please confirm every box, telling me the number of the box and the date.

Can you buy onions? In what kind of quantity?

Cooking fat as well as meat is very expensive here. But I cannot send it because it is perishable – unless perhaps one of the soldiers travels on leave to the Brüx area.  

Greetings and kisses,

Paul

I have nothing new. How about you?

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Paul has been busy in the last week. He has managed to trade the unground wheat for almost 300 pounds of flour for his family. What a relief that must have been for his grandmother – one less thing to worry about as she took care of her grandchildren with no means of support that I know of. He made sure to send flour to his aunt Helene as well. I don’t know what her living situation was in Vienna, but I assume she was able to put the flour to good use.

A week or so ago, we received a package in the mail. We were expecting a few things, but the package was the wrong size, shape, and weight for any of them. It was like a big heavy lump. We opened it and found this:

After reading the last post on Paul Z sending grain to his family, my cousin Tim (Harry’s son) was inspired to send this to me so I could live more than vicariously through the family letters. Fortunately, the package arrived as I was talking on the phone to Tim’s mother. When I told her the contents of the package – neither the book nor the comforter we had ordered – she was able to tell us where it had come from. As when I read many of the letters, I found myself amused and touched at the same time. Tim’s gift contained a sense of fun and whimsy as well as love of family. I can’t imagine a better present. Now I have to put our coffee grinder to work!  

September 13

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Today we see two letters written in September 1939 to Helene’s nephew Paul Zerzawy in New York. He arrived in the U.S. in April and is trying to find his feet while also helping his relatives in their efforts to emigrate. It may be that they were sent in the same envelope.

13, September 1939

My dear!

I suppose you have written to me, as I have to you, and that your letter describes the clipper… of August 19.  I don’t have anything new to report.  Since the war began, I haven’t received any mail from Europe.  Please follow my suggestion and send mail about once a week, even if just a card (numbered!).  Mail from neutral countries seems to be getting through.

Warmly,

The Cohen Family

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Vienna, 9/11/39

Dear Paul,

Please don’t worry about us.  We will certainly try to leave somehow, but we don’t have any prospects at the moment.  Maybe you can write to the Zentners to get our ship tickets transferred to another line.  Here, you see, we can only pay in dollars; since the tickets from the USA are paid for, we cannot complete this transaction.  I don’t know which ship line you could consider because there may be changes. At this time, it would be possible to take the Italian line; however, it would have to be paid for in hard currency/foreign money.  I hope this can be taken care of soon.

If you write to Robert, tell him not to worry about us.

I’ll write more next time; I’m out of room today. 

Try to send us some news the same way.

Warmly,
Eva

Dear Paul,
Once we did experience history, but it was not that exciting.  I hope a direct connection is possible soon.

Kisses,
Helene

Paulie, look, here I am again today.  Don’t worry.
A thousand kisses.
Illegible signature

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Each of today’s letters have an element of confusion in them. Paul has been in the U.S. since April and is trying to help bring Helene’s family to join him. The typewritten letter has the #2 at the top, meaning it was the second of Helene’s numbered letters from Vienna to America. It is dated and postmarked September 13, 1939 from Istanbul, Turkey with a return address from Josef de Sévillia who I believe was married to one of Vitali’s sisters. Did Helene post-date the letter, knowing it wouldn’t be sent until several days after she wrote it?

The handwritten letter was confusing because Eva was already adopting the month/date order that we use in the U.S. (month-date-year), rather than the European convention (date-month-year), but used a Roman numeral for the day (XI) which in the letters written in German would indicate the month. So naturally, the letter was originally archived with the date of November 9, 1939. However, that would be impossible because Eva and Harry were in San Francisco by October. In the August 19 post, we learned that they had ship tickets and expected to arrive in New York on September 7. It appears that this letter was sent via Istanbul as well – perhaps in the same envelope as the typewritten letter? They would be following their own advice by sending these letters to Vitali’s Turkish relatives and asking them to forward them to cousin Paul. Mail between Germany (Austria was annexed in 1938) and the U.S. was unreliable at best. 

Three people wrote something on the handwritten letter – Eva, her mother Helene, and a third person. At first I thought the last part was a second note from Helene before posting the letter, but the signature looks nothing like hers. Perhaps it’s Paula, the friend who wrote so many letters after the war assuring Helene of Vitali’s survival?

I wonder whether Helene’s sentence about experiencing history alludes to a literary quote. I assume she is talking about the fact that she and Paul had been separated by war before, when he was a soldier in WWI.

September 12

Today we have a letter from 20-year-old Harry Lowell, an American GI serving in New Guinea, to his 23-year-old sister Eva, working as a nurse in San Francisco. They have been in the U.S. for 5 years and only heard rarely from their parents who at this point were both in concentration camps. They stayed active and positive, making the best of where life took them, at this point unable to do anything to help their parents. All they know about the situation in Europe is what they hear on the radio and read in the newspaper.

New Guinea
September 10, 1944

Dear Eva,

‘Tis a very repentant brother of yours, indeed, who is writing you a letter today. There is no excuse at all for my not writing you for over a month, I know; therefore I appeal to your good heart and sisterly love to forgive me (again) for this breach of correspondence ethics and my lack of fraternal attention (due any sister of mine). How about it, Sis? Thank you. I knew your good nature would get the best of your grudge against your lazy brother. I promise not to let my correspondence lag behind again, parole d’honneur! I am glad you haven’t been following my example; your little V letters have been coming in quite regularly. It is needless to tell you that I have enjoyed every letter I received of you, so keep them coming!

Now that I have dedicated half a page to apologizing etc., I can begin my letter with renewed zest and a cleansed conscience (I hope). Nothing has happened since I last wrote you (at which time there wasn’t anything to write about, either: I am still doing the same job at the same place, see the same people every day, talk about the same things daily, and so on --- all is quiet on the southwestern front. Were it not for the good news we hear over the radio – news upon which we build our hopes of getting home soon – we would have a tough time keeping up our morale. I bet the men who are in actual combat complain less then we service troops do, although they have a reason to do so.

Incidentally, the army’s word for complaining is “bitching”; here is a little poem by one of our boys on “Bitching”:
Bitches are witches
Bring trouble in snitches
Warrant no outward praise.

If riches were bitches
‘Twould keep us in stiches
Mean millions for our old age.

Which is right and which
Is wrong, we know not which
So go ahead, you dogface, --- bitch!

Some General is said to have remarked that, were it not for the bitching, this army wouldn’t be what it is today – the best army in the world.

Well, enough for “bitching.”

Sister, when I get back you’ll hardly recognize me anymore. Not only do I shave more than once a week, have a dozen hairs on my chest, and in other ways feel old age creeping up on me, but I also have cultivated a gusto for beer which, as you know, is obtainable here (it has been since August). I used to abhor the stuff as you can remember. There seems to be a deficiency in our diet which can only be corrected by beer. (Anyway, that’s what I keep telling myself.) My order for a gallon of fresh milk on my return still stands, so don’t think for a moment that I will prefer beer to milk, ever. I bet I won’t even touch beer when I get back home (according to my diet deficiency theory, ha). The other day I got my first taste of Australian beer, which is much stronger than the American beer we are getting: I drank it on an empty stomach and I felt the way I do when I try to play beg shot and attempt to puff on a cigar. I’ll never do that again!

A couple of fellows of this detachment are on a furlough in Australia; if I am lucky. I will be able to go there, as long as I am so close to the mainland. I would like to see Australia; all of the men have been there before and told me a lot of stories, unfavorable ones, which I don’t quite believe. Maybe I’ll have a chance to find out for myself.

So you want to know what I would like for Christmas, eh? Well, let’s see – something to read? No, I got plenty – something to eat, yes? No, I got plenty of that ---maybe some toilet articles? Hell, no, I get that at the PX-----perhaps a sweater for cool nights? No! -----how about some pictures or at least one colored portrait, 5x7, of my sister? That’s what I want; it’s the only thing I can use and I would appreciate one very much. Before you mail the package put a lot of branches off a Christmas tree in it, and that will be the nicest present from you. I’ll look at your picture and smell that forest fragrance of those branches and I will have a nice Christmas, indeed. Well, that’s settled.

How is Paul getting along? Write me about him in your next letter, will you? Be sure to give him my regards. Tell him he can contribute to the Christmas fund by taking a few snaps.

Have you seen Hilda lately? How is she? Keep me posted, old girl.

By the way, how did you come out with those two tennis champions? Who won and why didn’t you? After all, you used my racket which should have helped you achieve victory. Well, keep practicing; you’ll get there on top yet.

In case you want to know how I am, I am very fine, thank you; I am in the best of health, spirit, and what have you. I hope all is well with you also; I suppose you are still working at the doctor’s office and enjoy your work. I am glad you did not join the Nurse’s Corps; a lot of vicious tongues are spreading a lot of stories about the army nurses here. There is probably some truth in the stories, pertaining, however, to a small minority of the nurses only. But to the average GI all nurses are the same and he has his own nickname for them. Old Horace must have felt the same way I do sometimes; my maxim: “Odi profanum vulgus et arceo” Ain’t it the truth!

Well, Eva, it’s getting late and I have come to the point where I can’t find anything to write about anymore, therefore I will bid you goodnight. Don’t forget about that picture, please; it has to be tinted, by all means!

With love,
Your favorite brother,
Harry

P.S. Say hello to everybody.

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There are so many echoes of their mother’s letters  – Harry is as always a poor and guilt-ridden correspondent (as is his cousin Paul Zerzawy from whom he apparently hasn’t heard), using humor and cleverness even when discussing serious matters, carrying on a “conversation” with the recipient, and throwing in foreign words and phrases. Eva continues to be the reliable and diligent one, regularly sending her brother letters, despite the lack of response. Eva carried that sense of responsibility to everything she did throughout her life – she was completely honest, arrived everywhere on time, and kept every promise, explicit or implicit.

One example of her keeping implicit promises is the photo below – I assume Eva went to the Emporium Photo Studio to get this tinted portrait to fulfill Harry’s request.

In a quick search, I couldn’t find a source for the poem Harry quotes (presumably from an anonymous GI) – I did find a similar phrase at urbandictionary.com and a hip hop song with the title “Bitches Snitches Witches and Riches.”

Their love of tennis is repeated often – see June 14 post.

Harry is happy that his sister did not after all join the Nurse’s Corps. He sees how little respect the nurses get and he is glad she won’t be subject to the sexism and harassment she would have experienced.  Harry mentions the rumors that are spread about nurses – is he quoting Horace in relation to the nurses or to the GIs who say such awful things? I imagine the latter. The phrase is from Horace’s Odes 3.1.1 « Odi profanum vulgus et arceo. » I hate the common masses and avoid them.

One final echo in Harry’s sign-off — he calls himself her “favorite brother” — since he was her only brother. At my wedding, when it came time to say who was giving me away, Eva said of her only child: “I do, my favorite daughter.”

September 11

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Today we have a letter from Helene’s nephew Robert Zerzawy to his cousin Eva in San Francisco. He is writing from Cologne, Germany, although he resided in London. The first part  of the letter is written in German and the rest in English (in italics below).  

                                                                        Cologne 11, September 1965

Dear Eva,

How guilty I still feel to have dumped my worries on you. If I had suffered as much as you and took it on courageously, I would be seeking sympathy and support - you have two operations behind you. I hope that in between you have recovered somewhat. I hope that you can manage, at least as a beginning, to handle your house affairs, and soon get additional strength so that you can begin to do your work a little bit at a time. OK, I send you my best wishes for your complete recovery. After a normal illness, one should be well on the way to recovery, but you will need a little more time. I hope all went well and your recovery is proceeding nicely.

The newspaper clipping with the marvelous picture of your mother and the happy news that she won the $1000 jackpot gave me unexpected joy. She really looks marvelous, so sweet and you can truly be proud of her. I only wish that I could see her and take her in my arms and somehow convey my love and tenderness I feel for her. No doubt you will do this for me until I shall be able to write more fully.

Just now I am here to sort out a few problems with my late employers - which I fear can affect my pension in a serious way, and as usual in such giant firms like Bayer it is difficult to obtain a straightforward settlement owing to the many departments and principals involved.

I was able to get away for a little while as relations of a friend of mine took the house for three weeks - a break, I need, to try and find some way to get out of the present entanglement, which I hope, will be easier if one can gain some distance and get things better in perspective.

A few days after your welcome birthday telegram came by airmail a copy in an envelope and I was struck by Helen’s unchanged and concise handwriting. I am glad to learn that in your estimation she is doing well physically for her years. I will write her, as I said before, as soon as I find more time in my « holiday » whenever this might be. Just now I am in the Rhineland, but want to travel farther south, perhaps also to Vienna, where I have an invitation by a titular cousin, Anton Zerzawy, a veterinarian, with whom I got friendly by correspondence.

Many thanks for the addresses and telephone numbers. It certainly will be a help and great impulse for our future contact.

Dear Eva, have thousands thanks that in spite of your obstacles and handicaps you wrote me so fully and put my mind - to some extent - to rest. Now I only wish that you get well over your various operations and hospital treatments. Give my love to your mother, Harry and family, Helen Rose and Paul, and again my warmest thanks for your letter. After the trying times I wish and hope that a better spell will come for you - you certainly deserve it.

 With my love,
Robert

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Robert refers to the article we saw in the April 9 post, when Helene won $1,000 through a contest by the San Francisco Examiner. In the March 23 post, we saw a letter that. Robert wrote to Helene in 1966, where he mentions the contest and Eva’s surgeries. I was 5 or 6 when my mother was ill, so I have no sense of how serious the illnesses and surgeries were. My mother was stoic and had a high tolerance for pain, and she would never have wanted me to be anxious about her, so I never worried. I have a hazy memory of visiting her in the hospital once or twice. Since my mother was a nurse, and because my early experiences of hospitals were that people went in to get better and then came out, I do not have a fear of visiting hospitals that some people have. My mother passed to me her faith in the medical profession, as well as a desire to avoid seeking medical assistance unless absolutely necessary!

September 10

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I first saw today’s letter in 2007 after my mother had a stroke and I was organizing her papers. She had a packet of papers: a few Red Cross letters, Helene’s letters from Istanbul in 1946, correspondence and official documents related to Paul Zerzawy, and this letter sent from Vitali to Helene between Buchenwald and Ravensbrück. If I didn’t have it in my possession, I wouldn’t have known prisoners were able to write to each other between the camps or to receive care packages and letters from family and friends.

Somehow Helene managed to keep this letter safe (although not in one piece) during the next 6 months in Ravensbrück, took it with her to Istanbul and then to San Francisco. A heartbreaking letter of love and hope.

10 September 1944
[The day of Release cannot yet be given. Visits to the Camp are prohibited. Inquiries are useless.] 

[Excerpt from the Camp Rules:
Each Prisoner may in one month receive and send 2 letters or postcards. Submitted letters cannot be more than 4 pages of 15 lines per page and they must be neat and easily read. Money may be sent by Postal order only, giving first name, surname, birthday, prisoner’s number, but without any messages. Including money, photos and sketches in letters is forbidden. Letters and postcards, which do not follow these rules, will not be accepted. Letters that are not neat and are difficult to read will be destroyed. In the Camp one can buy anything. National Socialist newspapers are available, but have to be ordered by the prisoner himself in the Concentration Camp. Food packages may be received at any time and in any quantity.
The Camp Commander]            

Most dear one///I am always with you and your mind. It is all as in a dream. In August, I sent greetings through your friend Rosa. I received a letter from Elsa stating that further packages will be sent to you. I receive on average 6 packages per month. I hope that you receive as many. Elsa sent the letters from Eva to you through the Red Cross. I am certain that you got much joy from them. //We will soon see each other again and I delight endlessly in the thought that we can, as before, live together “en famille.” I predict that we will see the prompt realization of all our wishes.

Vitali

---

Reading this letter now that I know Vitali’s fate (see August 24 post) is all the more bittersweet. This was Helene’s only written evidence of Vitali’s love and existence as she waited and hoped over the next 35 years for him to arrive and for them to be reunited en famille. 

September 9

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Today’s letter from Helene in Vienna and to her children in San Francisco follows the ones we saw on September 5 and 6.

Clipper #50 (fifty)

Vienna, 9 September 1940

My dear Children!

I am acting as if I believe Papa when he says that your letters were among those that were seized in the Bermuda islands. He says this as if he is so sure of it that he would swear to it, but I am a doubting Thomasine.

The whole time the weather has been just as dark as my mood. The rooms have been as cold and unpleasant as it would normally be in November. I therefore took our winter clothing out of storage and when this happened, of course the sun peeked out as if gloating at me, to make fun of me in my annoyance. But as old as the sun is, she fooled me, but I just can’t let myself be bothered by something like that right now. The day we had yesterday was beautiful like in May. It was made for going outside in the fresh air and filling up your lungs with oxygen. Despite that, we decided to stay home. The green blanket played the role of the meadow and no government official and no hall supervisor could get me away from here. I lay still, but instead of dozing off like you tend to do, practically a requirement when you’re out there laying on the meadow, in my head, thoughts of you marched around. I am sure the next letter will get me a few lines from Harry.

I am looking at Everl’s last letter and I am still just amazed by the metamorphosis in her handwriting. Is this something she did on purpose or did this just happen? However that may be, it’s really wonderful and I’m really happy about it. I did work as a typographer and I am used to trying to figure out illegible handwriting, but Everl’s scribble was the hardest thing I ever had to deal with. It really tortured me, and not just me. The most unclear manuscript I ever dealt with at work was the weekly repertoire of the Teplitz City Theater and so I asked our Father to typeset that for me. That was the first thing I ever had to do with the theater; the ones that came to Bilin on occasion didn’t count. “On Sunday, whatever the date was, with a special higher priced Lohengrin in the title role Mr. Erik Schmedes as a guest performer” - that I could figure out only with great difficulty. I begged Father to get tickets for us early enough which he was glad to do, so from Thursday to Sunday I could hardly sleep in joyous anticipation. The production started two hours earlier than they usually did and the train would only be getting there shortly before. We didn’t really look at the theater handbills very carefully, otherwise we would have noticed that they had changed the program. If Mr. Schmedes or perhaps the swan had a sore throat, or whether the performance had to be postponed to the following Sunday, because they didn’t have a dove falling from the heavens, I can’t remember anymore. I just remember that my sister Mattl got upset because she found that instead of the overture from Lohengrin, she heard the music from “The Sweet Girl.” [Das süsse Mädel] Mattl became pale and paler, pale and paler. What are the Bilin people going to say when they see such a rude and vulgar play with such a young girl in attendance? When I looked at her, she seemed to be fighting with the idea - should she and I leave before this shocking operetta even started? Or should we say, well, that’s fate? On the train we agreed we didn’t want to call attention to ourselves by leaving the theater early. This excuse applied not just to the parents and to the others in Bilin who sat in the next train compartment and were passing judgment on us. Apparently, those were rather progressive people, because Mattl’s reputation did not suffer. It’s funny that I think of this right now, but thought associations are easy to explain because the same impatience and the same pounding heart which I experienced on that theater Sunday back then, that’s how I fell today when I wait for your letters. I hope the Bermuda intermezzo doesn’t cause them to change the program.

Our housemates are very pleasant people. Yesterday and today, it’s been quite lively around here. The chimney sweep came and did his best to cover my recently washed kitchen with a black patina which he did even better at in the bathroom and the entrance hall. The workers above our balcony sounded like they were trying to escape or something. They were cutting things down and with quite a bit of rumbling and a whole lot of dirt, they managed to get it into our room. But that’s not enough. The floor, which always did have the tendency to move down to the floor below, started to sink so much that I decided I should put up a sign saying: “watch the step.” There were carpenters and supervisors here today and they will fix that part of the floor in a few days. I’m looking forward to that. I think our back-to-nature idyll is over since the scaffolding has been removed from the inner courtyard side of the building. But then I thought about it, they’re probably going to put it up on the facade. So now you see what your old former house looks like.

Have you gotten used to your school environment? How was your vacation? All of these things are very, very interesting to me and I hope that you will tell me all about it in detail.

Well, I’m going to close for today with well-directed kisses and please tell everyone hello.

I wish you all the best and all that is good and beautiful,

I remain your
Helene

---

As Helene continues to wait for mail from her children, her mind wanders to an early memory of her childhood in Bilin, Bohemia. She did typesetting for her father’s newspaper. Her love of music was already great and she begged her father to get tickets for a production of Wagner’s Lohengrin in the largest nearby town, Teplitz.  

She was looking forward to hearing a famous tenor of the day in the starring role, but unfortunately there was a change in schedule and instead, the theater was putting on an operetta by Heinrich Reinhardt.  

The operetta was first performed in 1901, so the event Helene describes would have taken place in 1901 or 1902 when she was 15 and her sister Mattl was 23. I hope one day to be able to see issues of the Biela-Zeitung from that time and perhaps see the advertisement she describes.

Helene’s sister’s reaction was “What will people think?” As one of the few Jewish families in an antisemitic town and with a father who did not always make himself popular with those in charge, it’s not surprising that Mattl didn’t want to call attention to themselves.

It’s nice to learn that Helene’s dread of a few days earlier about the new tenants has not turn out to be true.

September 8

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Today we have a letter written by students regarding a faculty member who taught Russian at UC Berkeley Extension. The letter was signed by 18 students, but I am showing only Harry’s signature. This was the height of the Cold War and McCarthyism was going strong.

September 8, 1950

Dear Sir:
Having just learned of the abrupt termination of Mr. Karnaugh’s position as teacher of Russian at the Far Eastern Language School, we, former and present students of Mr. Karnaugh’s, urge that he be allowed to continue to teach at this school.

In our contact with Mr. Karnaugh we found him to be a conscientious, patient, and very capable teacher. He has constantly sought to improve and adapt his methods of instruction in accordance with the needs of each student. His patience, his encouragement, and his personal interest in his students have won him the regard and respect of all of us.

In view of his excellent qualities as a teacher, the reason for dismissal must have been other than that of incompetence. Allow us therefore to point out that Mr. Karnaugh has in no way imposed upon us any personal views which he may have.

We feel that the dismissal of Mr. Karnaugh would constitute a great loss to the students and to the school, and we urge again that he be reinstate in his position.

Sincerely yours,

---

Since Harry’s was the first signature, I wonder whether he wrote or co-wrote the letter. This appears to be a carbon copy. All of the signatures look like they were written by the same hand and pen, probably Harry’s. I don’t know whether Harry signed his full name on the original. His use of his initials H.L.L. is reminiscent of his father’s common signature: H.S.M. Cohen.

I also see echoes of Harry’s grandfather in this letter. Although he never met his maternal grandfather, I expect his presence loomed large in their household. As we saw in the January 6 post, Adolf Löwy published a left-leaning newspaper in Helene’s hometown of Bilin in Bohemia. He wanted his newspaper to give voice to and protect the voiceless. One of the reasons Harry gave up a traditional career to run a printing shop was because of how well he understood the power of the press.

I found Nicholas I. Karnaugh listed in the “AMERICAN ASSOCIATION OF TEACHERS OF SLAVIC AND EAST EUROPEAN LANGUAGES: List of Members and Subscribers, September 1, 1950.” Bulletin of the American Association of Teachers of Slavic and East European Languages, vol. 8, no. 1, 1950, pp. 1–9. JSTOR.

I could find little information on Professor Karnaugh. I do not know whether he was reinstated. In a newspaper search, I found that from 1960 to the early 1970s he taught Russian to kids and adults in Ontario, California.

September 7

This is the last letter I have from Robert Zerzawy in London to his family in San Francisco. He died in November 1967.

Sept. 7, 1967

Dear Eva,

You’ve now become the family’s central coordinator, so I am addressing these lines to you.  Of course, they are for all of you, and primarily to Helen.  I will write to her separately in more detail.  We have promised each other so many letters that it’s better if I send this letter in advance.  “In advance” is certainly a good example of English understatement, considering that it took me five weeks to even get around to writing a thank you note.  It’s almost pathological how just a few lines to acknowledge such a kind act can grow to guilt feelings beyond all dimension.  Any attempt to explain this would only lead to pages of unproductive self-observation, which would be a morbid and unaesthetic exercise.  It will only be imperative to mention, in this context, a few details about my health, but I will get to that later.

Even though this may not sound convincing after this long pause, your warm thoughts in the form of a birthday telegram from both the Lowell and Goldsmith families, combined with Helen’s congratulations, moved me deeply and gave me such feelings of warmth and joy that I can hardly describe them.  The wording is so typical of Helen.  However, if I’m wrong and you are actually responsible for the text, then I can only say that you are a worthy daughter to your mother.  Which would be a great compliment.  Eva, I still owe you thanks for a letter from March and the family pictures you sent on the occasion of Helen’s 80th birthday.  Helen-Rose appears to be in an Ottoman outfit*, and Harry’s boys remind me of their father as he looked the last time I saw him in Vienna.  Before I met him again in San Francisco and didn’t recognize him, which could happen again today – has he grown taller since 1947?  Unfortunately, I don’t know his wife; she wasn’t in the picture yet back in those days, I imagine.  You, dear Eva, I do remember; perhaps your face was rounder, but it is a lovely and eloquent picture.  And then we come to our dear octogenarian:  how dear and how appropriate the pictures are, and I am proud to have a place in your heart.  I don’t usually speak in superlatives so easily, but they are fitting here.  Paul, who should be congratulated on the pictures, has the (bad) luck of the draw, as the artist often does:  he is not in the pictures, which is too bad. 

By way of explanation about my new address: at the end of January I moved back to the street whose name is probably familiar to you from the past.  I now live in a two-room flat next door to Matlock Court, in the next block, where I lived before I bought the house in Chiswick.  I’m glad to be rid of the house.  It was too much work for me and too far “off the map”.  A friend from my youth came to help me move:  the widow of my friend Reif from Munich.  I don’t know how I could have done it without her help.  I still apparently overdid it, and spent some weeks in the hospital and at home in bed.  I sent notices of the move, but I only got through the letter B (in my address book).  The rest is on my desk, unwritten.  The time has passed for sending that, and now I must write individual letters, which is somewhat tedious.  The plan to go on holiday with the Vienna Zerzawys to the Adriatic unfortunately didn’t work out. I recently had a relapse, and in this condition it is better to stay home than to travel.  I also recently got shingles, which is another reason I didn’t go. But that is just bothersome. Sorry for talking so much about my state of health. I had to mention it because it is basically the reason for the delay in writing – Now I must close for today. I will write again when in a better writing mood. My love to you all and many “bussies” to Helen.

Affectionately,
Robert 

*In reading over this, I have found that it’s a Spanish princess, not a harem daughter – such is my knowledge of national costumes.

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Helene turned 80 in November 1966 and Robert is referring to photos Eva sent him. The photographer Paul he mentions is not Robert’s brother who died almost 20 years earlier, but Eva’s husband/my father. I have very vivid memories of that day being in the kitchen with my mother and Harry’s wife while they tried to light 80 candles and keep them lit long enough to bring out the cake and sing. As you can see, they were successful!

It appears that Robert and Paul did not enjoy robust health and neither lived a long life. I wonder whether Paul had been exposed to anything during his time as a soldier during World War I and whether either or both of them had been affected by the 1918 flu. Helene wrote about two of her sisters never being robust after surviving the 1889 influenza epidemic (see August 29 post) – perhaps the 1918 epidemic caused similar issues?

Robert mentions the widow of his friend Reif. That name seemed familiar and I realized that we saw a photo of him playing tennis in Vienna in the June 14 post.

Apparently Zerzawy relatives continued to live in Vienna. I do not know who they were. Perhaps one day I’ll find out.

September 6

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Today we see Helene’s letter to Eva, the companion to the one she wrote to Harry which we saw in yesterday’s post. 

Vienna, 5 September 1940

My much beloved little Eva child!

Your letter of August 20 arrived yesterday. It worked like a sleeping pill. It calmed me down but it didn’t cure me of the idée fixe that something might not be right with Harry. My first thought was that the reason his letters aren’t getting through is because of his drawings. But Harry often sends letters that are not illustrated, and so that wasn’t really the right idea. It could really only be that he was perhaps injured – something like this sometimes happens with drivers or chauffeurs. Or maybe he is sick in some other way. In any case, I consider it highly unlikely that all his letters have been lost and I will not feel at peace until I get a handwritten letter from him and I am holding it in my hands.

Now I know about the internship you have in the hospital. How is it going? Are you just going there a few hours and continue to stay with Bertha, or are you staying overnight in the hospital? Your first jobs will be things like doing the washing and such. Maybe that will make the job easier for you. I have not tortured you when you at one point were just harum sacrum. I didn’t look the other way when some of our house help did things like that. I am very excited about your new handwriting. I could read your letter easily without having to apply poetic license. Keep doing it that way and maybe you could give calligraphy lessons and then your vacation bank account will swell to an unimaginable size. I am very impressed with your letters. I take my hat off to you with every letter. Hedy would say “very competent and she knows a thing or two!” [literally: “not stupid at all”]

Our renters moved in yesterday. A middle-aged married couple. He used to be a foreign correspondent for foreign languages for a former major bank and she is a virtuoso pianist with a great inventory of sheet music. However, she doesn’t have a piano. Isn’t that strange? When the grand piano is gone from the house, the neighbors have a vacation. In any case, we are trying to stay out of the way which is kind of a difficult feat when there are blackouts. In spite of the fact that we all have to use the kitchen and the bathroom, we have established practical house rules so that we probably will not bother each other much. You cannot imagine what kinds of things can make for friction in a living situation. It may be that when we cram together a household of people who don’t even know each other in one apartment, it can lead to arguments much more easily when there are different kinds of people and temperaments. For example, a friend of mine is renting from someone in the same building where she used to have her own apartment. She said that her landlady greeted her with the “Götz quotation.” And when she did not answer, the landlady wanted her to pay 5 Reichspfennigs because she had to send the interest to the property management company by using a form that cost 20 Reichspfennigs. Isn’t that lovely?

I received a letter today from the Berlin Trading Company: “we are communicating to you without obligation and subject to revocation on the part of our client that we have been instructed by the Bank of America N.T. & S.A. San Francisco to give you 100 marks from your registration credit due to Lowell.” Etc. etc. There is a notation on the form approving this:

3) name of the person sending the money (sponsor)
Permanent place of residence:
Exact Address:
Citizenship:

Since I do not know if Eva, Harry, or maybe the Zentners were the ones who did this, I am going to put both of your addresses. Could you imagine how happy I was about this? Since Everl didn’t write anything about this in your last letter, maybe it is a surprise to you too. I hope you can explain this to me. I have the feeling that the transfer will not go very smoothly. Questions about this should maybe not be asked. We’ll see!

Kisses, kisses, kisses and greetings to everyone.
Helen

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Although Eva continues to be a reliable correspondent, Helene still has heard nothing from her son since June 10. She would like to think that the letters have been confiscated because he included illustrations (see the only example we have of his “Illustrated News Monthly” in the June 6 post). She fantasizes that he has gotten into a car crash – my understanding is that at one point Harry drove produce trucks for the Levy-Zentner company in Sacramento.

If Harry was working in Sacramento during the summer, he may not have written often (or at all?) – he was far away from his nagging sister. In the 1960s when we lived in San Francisco and Harry and his family lived in Berkeley, my mother did not call her brother often because at the time it was a long-distance call. I would imagine that the tolls to call Sacramento in 1940 would have felt exorbitant and that Eva would not have called her brother except in an emergency. So she probably had little if any news to share with her parents about her brother.

Helene talks about Eva’s improved handwriting. Throughout her life, her writing was difficult to decipher – apparently it was her one low grade in school when she was a student in Vienna. Now and then I’ll write something indecipherable even to me and realize it looks exactly like my mother’s writing!

We get a sense of life in Vienna at this time. In order to pay the rent, they are forced to rent part of their apartment to strangers. In a different situation, these tenants might have become good friends — like Helene and Vitali, they were musical and multilingual. But in these difficult times, the only thing Helene wanted to do was keep out of their way so that they would be happy, pay the rent, and not make trouble.

Götz-Zitat, a “Götz quotation,” was a euphemism for a profane expression, also known as a “Swabian salute”, from (of course) a play by Goethe, Götz von Berlichingen.

They are no longer living in the Vienna of Helene’s youth – it had become a rude, mean place where bureaucracy and crassness ruled the day.

September 5

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Vienna 5 September 1940

Honey-Harry-Bubi! I am sad since I haven’t heard anything from you since June 10th and my weak brain does not want to think that letters haven’t arrived, especially letters from you. To comfort me, Papa is reading me something from Il Messaggero. “On the second of this month there was a shipment of letters that was seized on the Island of Bermuda. “Letters from your son, you can wait.” Yeah, I can wait, I’ve learned how to wait. The zeitgeist of the times has taught us all to wait. For a few days now, I have not had those bad dreams anymore and I’ve at least been able to get some rest at night from the bad spirits which were making an inferno out of my head. I hope that despite the post being confiscated that we will soon get a letter from you. I hope God is merciful. Everl wrote in her last letter that she knew you had written, but I am not that easy to convince. I didn’t want to send alarming letters to Tillie, Bertha, and Hilda because I feel that I have tested their patience enough. Harry, darling, do you know what it means that I haven’t known since June 10 where you’ve been, what you’ve been up to, how you felt? I know I’ve never been an angel, but it’s very hard to imagine that I have so many sins to atone for. In the Bible it says if God loves someone, He punishes them particularly harshly. I almost would prefer it that God loved me less. Just like a cat always lands on its feet, I can write about whatever God knows, but all I can think of is the 10th of June and that I haven’t heard from you since then.

I asked Everl to write to me and let me know if she has gotten all the letters without any missing, but she still owes me an answer to that question and I would really like to know what number was on the last letter you received. When I have a letter from you, I’ll write to everyone, but until then it’s not really possible for me. My head is smoking and my thoughts are working and soon I will be running around on fire like the “hot soldier” of Meyring.

Our new renters have moved in with boxes full of books and music. This is like an El Dorado for you and Paul to whom I’m going to write today despite the fact that my head is on fire.

Would you do me a favor, little Harry son of mine? Please repeat what you may have written me and which the bad postal service has been keeping from me. You should be going to school again, but in the first school days there’s not much going on, just like the first school days here - they talk about the plans, the syllabus, and all that sort of thing. So there’s still time for you to tell me about your odyssey. Oh, how much I am looking forward to that. I have always sent letters to Everl’s address because I didn’t want to bother Hilda with having to send them on to you. I also didn’t know if you in this divorce paradise have a permanent address. Divorce paradise! Maybe these germs and bacteria are swimming around there and you want to divorce me? Isn’t that ridiculous? See! We, getting a divorce? Only a sick brain thinks of such things. If I write any longer, I will make you crazy too. You know, one fool makes ten.

I’m going to end, but if I don’t get news from you pretty soon, then the farmer Helene will not send Jochen away but she will be calling in the gendarmes. Harry will want to write letters, the post office will want to deliver them, the censors will be in a hurry, and those on the Bermuda Islands will not want to hijack any more letters, etc., etc.

Haven’t you had enough Harry my boy?

Keep loving me and prove it to me by making up for all these letters and all that has been taken from me.

I kiss you,
Helen

Greetings to all. 

---

Helene sent the letters we see today and tomorrow as a pair, one to Harry and one to Eva. Although the letters were shared among the relatives, she often made sure to focus a letter on an individual child even if she was writing to each of them on the same day. Being an only child, I don’t really appreciate the importance of doing this, but I remember my mother making absolutely certain that she always gave gifts of exactly the same value to each of Harry’s sons, never wanting either to feel he was considered more special than the other. I imagine as a child she kept track of every gift Harry received, never wanting to miss out or be cheated.

As always, there is the continuing theme of the lack of letters from Harry – you can hear Helene’s constant mantra over the last 3 months: “June 10, June 10, June 10” – she cannot stop counting the days since she last heard directly from her son. I believe that Harry worked for Julius Zentner’s produce company in Sacramento during the summer between his junior and senior year of high school – perhaps he really didn’t write any letters during this time.

Helene tries to be as humorous as possible by imagining that Harry’s letters had been lost in the Bermuda. This passage confirms for us Vitali’s language fluency. He read about the incident when reading an Italian newspaper. This reminded me again of Harry’s delight in reading newspapers from all over the world. I’m sure Vitali would have been as thrilled as Harry was to find the world’s papers at his fingertips available on the internet.

Helene uses the term “divorce.” She speaks separately of her sense of Harry divorcing her by not writing. Was she describing the separation of parents and children or the children being separated from each other as soon as they arrived in San Francisco? Harry was sent to live with Hilda and Nathan Firestone and Eva to Bertha and George Schiller. This meant that they lived in different neighborhoods and did not attend the same high school. They only saw each other on weekends. By the summer of 1940, Eva had graduated from high school and was about to begin her nursing training.

With money tight, Helene and Vitali are forced to sublet part of their apartment to strangers.

I had not heard of Gustav Meyrink until very recently, when Michael Simonson, the Director of Public Outreach at the Leo Baeck Institute, suggested that I attend the August meeting of their virtual book club when they would be discussing Meyrink’s book “The Golem.” A few months ago I consulted with Michael and told him about my family. He thought I would be interested in Meyrink’s fascination with the supernatural, given my grandfather’s profession. Clearly, my family was familiar with his work.

The phrase Ein Narr macht zehn Narren was a common aphorism. I found several variations when (unsuccessfully) looking for the original source. One version goes: Ein Narr macht zehn Narren, aber tausend Kluge noch keinen Klugen: One fool makes ten fools, but a thousand clever ones do not make a clever one.

September 4

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As we have seen over the past several months, Helene loved the works of Goethe, often quoting him in her letters. In addition, she believed she had a personal connection to him. First we see a copy of a letter that Helene sent to Goethe Haus in Frankfurt, Germany on Goethe’s birthday in 1955. Goethe was born on August 28, 1749 and died in 1832.

On Goethe’s birthday, 1955

To Professor Dr. Eugen Beutler,
Goethe Haus, Frankfurt am Main

Dear Professor!

Since Dr. Alfred Warner of New York was so kind as to give me your address, I am taking the liberty of turning to you with a request.  Neither in the San Francisco library, nor in the more extensive library in Berkeley, where I rummaged around looking for a reference book, could I find even one book about what I want to find out. I want to know if Ulrike von Levetzow’s castle was in Weseritz or Trblice, two neighboring towns in Czechoslovakia.  All I could find out is that Professor Sauer wrote a book about U. v. L’s life, but I could not find this book in either library or in any bookstore.  I was told at one of the bookstores that the book is no longer available and that publication of a new edition is very unlikely.

The reason for my interest is that my grandmother lived in both of these towns and that, according to tales my mother heard as a child, Goethe’s last love was an eccentric woman who had very little human contact, if any.

My grandmother was an aesthetically inclined woman who earned a living as a milliner. 

One of her clients was Ulrike von Levetzow.  After the latter found out through conversation with my grandmother, that my grandmother was an enthusiastic reader of Goethe, and, through further conversation, learned that her milliner’s second hobby was playing chess, a certain camaraderie developed between the two women, the details of which, dear Professor, I will not bother you with.

I don’t think there is any point in my asking Czech authorities about this matter, so I ask that you forgive me for taking the liberty of turning to you with such an unusual request.

At age 68, I thought it would be nice to leave something behind for my children that tells them about a better world, rather than just my memories of a concentration camp.

I hope that you will forgive my boldness, and I thank you very much in advance.

Sincerely,

---

Frankfurt, September 5, 1955

Frankfurt Goethe Museum          

Dear Mrs. Cohen,

We are happy to answer your question and let you know that the castle of Ulrike von Levetzow is in Trblice.  There is information about this in the following books:

Hedda Sauer, Goethe and Ulrike, Reichenberg 1925.
Adolf Kirchner, Memories of Goethe’s Ulrike, Aussig 1904.
A. Schams, At the home of Ulrike von Levetzow; a remembrance.  In:  German Homeland, Year 8, volume 6/7 Plan 1932

I hope this has been helpful.

Sincerely

 Dr. Josefine Rumpf

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Helene says that she was referred to Goethe Haus by author and art critic Alfred Werner. We learned about their connection in the June 25 post.

In 1823, Goethe wrote a poem about his unrequited love for Ulrike von Levetzow (1804-1899). There is a museum dedicated to her in Třebívlice. One site I saw mentioned that by the end of her life, it was likely that Ulrike was the last person living who would have known Goethe personally.

A friend sent me a fun video about the life of Goethe, including mention of his infatuation with Ulrike.

I have vague memories of my mother telling me that one of her ancestors had been Goethe’s mistress. This letter clarifies the story - it turns out that it wasn’t a relative, but a client of my great-great-grandmother Babette Kraus, and that she wasn’t his mistress but his late-in-life unrequited love. We learned about Babette in the February 16 post and that she loved Goethe — a love that was passed on to her granddaughter.  

September 3

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

After my friend Roslyn finished translating all the letters and documents I had in German, I was left with a handful of letters in Sütterlin, the old form of German handwriting. I had a number of letters written from Paul Zerzawy to his family in Brüx, Bohemia during World War I. Today’s letter was the first of these that Amei Papitto translated for me in December 2020.

Păltiniș?, 5 September 1918  

Dear Grandmother!

As you know from my letters, I’m fine. My life flows its course, so I don’t know what to tell of it.

But one thing I can tell you about: the shipment of grocery items I am sending you.

Some time ago I bought 200 kg of wheat. The price was to be 90 pf/kilo. When it arrived, it actually cost considerably more, around 1.50 pf/kilo – still an acceptable price. I will send most of the 200kg to Brüx in individual mailings of small boxes. I hope at least that our household will get rid of its worries.

It would be best if I had been able to grind the wheat here, but unfortunately it is very difficult to do, and therefore the wheat contains some imperfections and impurities - corn kernels, straw, and so on. Because the mills here do not have any sorting machines, the wheat flour would go bad like the dark flour in one of the first boxes I sent. I know that grinding the flour at home isn’t easy either.

Above all, it has to be done secretly and I urgently recommend that you not tell anyone of the parcels I am sending. If the authorities learn that we have stocks of flour – or grain - they will either require that you turn it over or our bread rations will be limited. If there is a report and a reason to search our home, please tell them the truth that these supplies come not from the black market but from the Romanian military, which is allowed.

I will try to have at least part of the wheat ground here, but I am not certain it will be possible. Therefore, I would appreciate it if you can write to me at once if you can find a way without attracting attention and without being swindled if you can grind the flour in Brüx. (I am thinking of Syitz or Münk). You should end up with about 60% good flour.

I cannot really determine this from here where I am. Maybe Herr Hauptmann can give you some advice.  Of course, I would pay him for his help. If not, I would have to wait until Robert is back in Brüx. In any case, I am asking for an immediate answer.

This thing is certainly important enough for you and I am not likely to have such an opportunity again anytime soon. Wholesale shopping in Romania is becoming more and more difficult and expensive by the day. We ourselves are living well, but can give only a little of our abundance back to the home country, as much as we would like to do so.

Meanwhile, while waiting for your answer, I will slowly send some of the wheat to you in boxes. The day before yesterday, one box was sent (marked with the number 5), as I already told you in my postcard. Tomorrow another box will be sent with about 8 kg and I will mark it as #6.

As long as there is no urgent need, you do not have to hurry to grind the wheat. Time will tell. Maybe it can be better done in installments.

When you store the wheat, you must observe some precautions. First of all: mouse proof. To do this, it would be best to store the wheat in the strong boxes in which I sent it to you. Store it there, tightly closed. As I wrote to you already, I urgently need boxes. You should send me other boxes as well as small bags and especially nails, since they are used to make boxes. That shouldn’t be overly expensive.

Secondly, store in odorless, dry rooms, not in the cellar. Otherwise, the wheat will go bad. Thirdly: from time to time (possibly every 10-14 days), spread out the wheat and let it dry. I do this in the following manner: I number the boxes and every day I take a different box and put it out in the sun, one after another.  Wherever I will be able to get boxes for all this wheat is a mystery to me. Hopefully the boxes you and Helene have promised will be returned soon.

Finally, I ask you to keep this letter in a safe place, to hand it over to Robert when he arrives, and to follow my instructions precisely. Until the shipments arrive, please give exact instructions to Anna concerning drying, etc., and supervise these instructions personally.

I am relying on you to do this. If anything is not clear or is not possible for you, just wait until Robert comes.

Awaiting a quick reply. Your loving grandchild,

Paul

Please do not make any other decisions or directives. Above all, do not make any promises to anybody without my knowledge.

---

This letter from soldier Paul Zerzawy gives us a window into how difficult civilian life was during the first world war. Helene’s mother Rosa Löwy was caring for her youngest grandchildren, because no other adults were available: her son-in-law and oldest grandsons had been drafted, and their mother and step-mother (Rosa’s daughters) had died long before the war. Despite the distance between Bohemia and Vienna, Paul and the family remained close to his aunt Helene.

As in his letters written twenty years later, Paul is all business.  His role in the family during both wars was to provide advice and assistance, often from afar. What a burden it must have been, particularly in 1918 when he was not even 22 years old. He felt a huge sense of responsibility. Here, he tells his grandmother how to take care of the household and is worried that she might not be up to it. Paul took on this burden again in the late 1930s and 1940s when trying to help his Helene, Vitali and his young cousins leave Vienna to come to America.

He is doing everything he can to keep his family fed and to make their lives as comfortable as possible. He is meticulous in explaining what needs to be done. Essentials like wheat were hard to come by for civilians, so Paul amassed as much as he could to send to his loved ones. This letter reminds me how easy life is for us today — I wouldn’t have the faintest idea what to do with boxes of unground wheat! 

Although what Paul was doing was apparently legal, he is concerned that others might find out and turn the family in for buying goods on the black market. I imagine there would have been jealousy and ill will if it were known that they had such valuable stores while their neighbors were going hungry.

(We saw Aunt Anna mentioned in Erich’s letter posted on April 29, but I do not know who she was since the name does not appear on either the Löwy or Zerzawy family tree – perhaps she was an aunt in name only?)

September 2

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Today’s letter from Helene in Vienna to her children in San Francisco is the 124th numbered letter she has sent. In the August 30 post, we saw her 48th letter from a year earlier -- she was writing a letter every 5 days plus an unknown number of other letters to friends and family.

Vienna 2 September 1941

My dear children! No mail again. I should probably have gotten used to this already, but probably that’s not possible or else I would have learned to do it after all this time. As I reflect on this, I am not really in the mood to write long letters, and I will just confine myself to assuring you that we are doing okay, and that everything is the same. There wouldn’t be anything more to say about us if my desire to write were not below the freezing point.

The weather is also not improving my mood. We’ve had a few rainy days which weren’t that intense and not such that they didn’t even let the sun through, but midsummer is coming to its end and the temperatures in the morning and evening are quite cool already. A cold, violent wind made me unpack my winter clothes today, which I will do right away when I’m done with this little scribble to you, which serves to greet and to kiss you. But for the time being, I am not quite ready. Since I had planned to free myself of everything I had until recently, you can assume from the way I am writing that I am making this kind of division between the past and future. I don’t even think any more about having some grammar professor make comments about the way I write.

Papa got his pullover out this morning. He was cold, so I will get right on it to take out the carefully packed winter clothing. I am doing it with a heavy heart because I thought that you would be with me to help me with this. Maybe it’s the other way around: “Man leads and God thinks.” Maybe that’s the way it should be, but I wonder what God is thinking about.

We have acquaintances who have gotten letters from August 16, but the last one we got is dated July 23rd. I hope as always to get news from you soon. Now I will close because I want to get to the activity that I mentioned already.

Keep us in your hearts and write a lot please? I hug you and hope that you are as I am wishing for you.

With sincere kisses and greetings to all the loved ones. Your 

Helen

---

We feel Helene’s deep sadness and frustration. Their bags have been packed (and unpacked) for more than a year in the hope that all of their paperwork and tickets would be in order and they could board a ship for America. The rules and goal posts kept changing – each time they thought they were on their way, something prevented their success. What cruel torture – elation at the thought of being reunited with their children, followed by agonizing failure and the need to gather their inner resources to try again. Somehow, they never gave up hope, the one thing that kept them going. But today it feels that her ever-present hope is deserting her. She had at last believed they would succeed and board the Ciudad de Sevilla on July 15, and that her children would already have helped her unpack her bags in San Francisco.

Helene mentions that she has stopped caring about writing perfectly — most of her previous letters have been typed perfectly, whereas today she has written in several corrections.

Helene reverses the saying: Der Mensch denkt und Gott lenkt - “Man proposes and God disposes.” According to Wikipedia, it is from the Latin Homo proponit, sed Deus disponit from a 15th century book by Thomas à Kempis. I would imagine that Helene used this quote often, given her self-identification as a fatalist – see posts from February 15, February 18 and August 1.          

Although this letter was her 124th, I am missing most of the letters written since #110 on July 1 — the censors or cruel fate in the guise of undelivered mail kept her children from hearing knowing the details of their parents’ failed attempt. They must have felt further from their parents than ever.                

September 1

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

See May 13 post for Zerzawy sibling family tree.

Today we have two World War I postcards from Helene’s nephews - brothers Erich and Paul Zerzawy - both written on September 2, 1917.

Beresowka 2/IX.1917

My dear ones!

I was so happy the mail had been working out well, at least halfway for the last few months, but now I’m not getting anything anymore. I have a strange sort of bad luck. Comrades get everything regularly, such as money, packages, etc. It’s only me who hasn’t gotten anything except for money just one time. I don’t want to say it got lost — it probably is just delayed. How did Robert do on his high school exam? And what does my Katerina look like? Send photos of yourselves as simple postcards so that your Erich has something of you.

---

Hermannstadt, 2.IX.1917

My dear ones!

After another 2 days of travel coming from Arad, we have arrived here. From here we will continue to ? city, which I mentioned in my card from Arad. I am doing very well in everything and I hope to hear the same from you when you are able to write to me.

With most heartfelt greetings and kisses,
Your Paul

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At this time, Erich was a POW in Beresowka in Eastern Siberia, while Paul was a soldier, just arriving at Hermannstadt (now Sibiu). Erich writes to his family in Brüx, Bohemia. Paul addresses his letter to their father Julius at the same address. Julius was also a soldier in the war -- perhaps he was home on leave at this time. From other letters we’ve seen this year, sending mail between soldiers or soldiers and POWs was often not possible.

Erich asks for photos of his siblings. His sister Käthe/Käthl/Katerina was born in 1904, so she would have changed a lot over the previous few years.

Paul’s unit is on the move: Arad was more than 150 miles from Hermannstadt. Letters he wrote from 1916 were sent from Belgrad,

Home must have felt a lifetime away for both Paul and Erich, both due to their experiences in the war and to the actual distance. Brüx (now Most) was 545 miles from Arad, 730 miles from Hermannstadt. Beresowka was almost 5000 miles from Brüx.

August 31

Link to Family Tree to understand family relationships.

Today we have a carbon copy of a letter that Helene sent in 1955 to the Reparations Office in Trier Germany.

August 28, 1955

Dear Sirs,

I would be extremely grateful if you could tell me what I need to do to receive reparations

In addition to the attached documents, I wish to mention the following facts:

On May 18, 1920, in Vienna, I married Haim Seneor Moisse Cohen and became a Turkish citizen.  I had been Austrian up until then.

In 1938, my husband was notified of that his (our) citizenship was no longer recognized.  Until October 1, 1943, we lived under the protection of the Turkish General Consul (Humanity).  After October 1, 1943, unfortunately he could no longer do anything for us.  On October 15, 1943, in the home we had been assigned (we had had to leave our original home in June 1941), we were both arrested.

On November 4, 1943, I was brought to the Ravensbruck concentration camp, and on February 28. 1945, via an exchange, I was brought, by the Swedish Red Cross, on the Drottningholm to Turkey, where I lived as a prisoner until April 1946 until my children, who had been in California since 1939, succeeded in bringing me on the Vulcania to the USA.

I have since that time lived in San Francisco and earned my living as a practical nurse and housekeeper.  A year ago, because of my age and health, I had to stop working.

My financial resources consist of Social Security, a contribution from the Public Welfare Department, and financial help from my son.

I would, therefore, be most thankful to the employees of the Governmental Reparations Office if I could find out what steps I need to take.

Many thanks in advance,

---

In this letter, Helene summarizes her life since 1920 on a single page in order to make her case for reparations. Behind the formal language of her request, we feel so much of her sorrow, helplessness, and loss over the past nearly 20 years. We also learn how she earned a meager living in San Francisco and that in 1954, at the age of 68, she was no longer able to continue working.