November 18

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Today we see a 1915 postcard from Helene’s nephew, Paul Zerzawy, to his siblings in Brüx, Bohemia.

Leitmeritz, 18./XI. 2am

We are busy reviewing and outfitting the regiment. My address: Paul Zerzawy….Division of Leitmeritz, New Artillery Barracks. Robert should immediately forward the package to me. In addition, woolen socks (shirt, underwear, socks), white linen (handkerchiefs and towels) and possibly food items.

As soon as my luggage arrives from Kezewitz, I hope to be able to write a letter.

This is the earliest letter I have from 20-year old soldier Paul Zerzawy. He sent it from Litoměřice, a town near Prague, where he had been a student until quite recently (see October 16th post). It appears that he quickly learned that little was provided for soldiers and asks for clothing and food to be sent, as he realizes that he will be hungry in the cold winter to come — note the added emphasis on his request for wool socks. It’s a very short note, without even a signature, perhaps because he was writing it at 2:00 in the morning after a long day in unfamiliar surroundings.

19-year old Harry sent his first brief postcard as a G.I. to his sister which he sent from Pacific Grove, not far from San Francisco (see April 6th post). Both Paul and Harry began their new lives close to home where they got oriented and prepared for whatever was ahead of them.  

I do not know where Kezewitz was or by what name it is now known.

November 17

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Today we have a letter from Helene’s nephew Robert Zerzawy. Although his brother Paul Zerzawy emigrated to the U.S., Robert never made it further than England. As far as I know, he only made one visit to California, which he mentions in this letter. He is writing to his young cousin Harry.

17 November 1947.        

Dear Harry,

I have exactly five minutes to write you while having my “elevenses” - a warm cup of coffee in this beastly weather is a real comfort. I think longingly back to the sunny day in Berkeley when you showed me round there though the temperature was not quite as high as in Boulder City where we had 105 or 110°. But you are not impressed by that. You had your share in the South Sea. That’s not exactly what you wanted to hear from me but give me time, Harry. Since I have been back, I never found the right mood for writing a personable letter. As far as reason goes with me, I am afraid I move ... in a circle, too much time and too much loneliness for introspective thoughts, and that’s not good for the mind - for today let me just tell you how much I enjoyed having met you after the 10 fateful years, or how long it is that we met in Vienna. I regret only we had so little time to talk to each other. Still, I hope it wasn’t the last time.

I wish you every success in your plans and good luck for your future. If you have the time and feel like, please write me about your doings and your ideas. ...always be pleasant to hear from you.

Cheers and kindest regards,
Yours
Robert

[2 stickers on the letter: Please give this To Harry]

On Ancestry.com, I found the ship manifest showing Robert sailing from Manchester, England on August 22, 1947 on the Manchester Progress bound for Montreal, listing the ultimate destination of visiting his brother Paul in San Francisco. At the time, he was living in Bridport, on the southern coast of England.  

In November 1947, Robert was 48 years old and Harry was half his age. Although they were related closely by blood, they had little common history. According to Robert, the last time they had seen each other was 10 years earlier, when Harry would have been 14. We saw in earlier posts that the intent had been for Robert to join his brother Paul and young cousins Eva and Harry in San Francisco, but somehow it never happened. Robert settled in England and became a citizen there.

Robert’s letters always make me feel melancholy and imagine what might have been. He was an artist with a sensitive temperament, not well-suited to the serious and dangerous times he lived in.

Robert’s mother died before he was 5 years old, his step-mother when he was 10. He was a young teenager when World War I broke out and his father and two older brothers Paul and Erich joined the army, leaving him and his two sisters Klara and Käthl at home, being cared for by their grandmother. Klara died in 1916. Robert was not drafted, although there is talk in some letters of the likelihood of him becoming a soldier. By 1918, he was 19 years old, his brother Erich never returned from the Siberian POW camp, his sister Käthl had died, the family household had been disbanded, and his brother Paul returned as a young adult who had had a front-row seat to the war. The four-year age difference probably felt like a much wider gap. It appears that Paul was well-suited to university and legal studies. Robert tried to follow in his footsteps, with a lesser degree of success.

I believe that the photo below was taken in Berkeley on the visit Robert mentions in the letter:  

November 16

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Today we have a long letter from 22-year old soldier Paul Zerzawy. It is addressed to his father Julius who is an officer in the army, stationed in Przemyśl.

Before the advent of the internet, international letters were often sent using “aerograms,” a single sheet of paper folded and sealed in a special way so that an envelope wasn’t required. This made for a lighter letter (particularly since the paper was quite thin), and thus postage was cheaper. According to Wikipedia, aerograms were created in the early 1930s when letters began being sent by air mail. However, we can see from today’s letter that the general design existed long before. Paul’s letter today is on a single page, which folds up so that the manila-colored parts form the exterior of the letter. 

Fieldpost 211, 14 November 1917

My dear ones!

Because of the lack of any news from you, I must start my letter by talking about myself and my experiences.

The evacuation was followed by a two-day march through unpleasant march through the rain-drenched, soft clay soil. The Romanian plains are more like steppes. Very little grows here and there are very few people – it reminds me of the most desolate parts of the Puszta. The division and the regimental command continued until we arrived late at night on the second day. There were about 50 men in the 7th company, which was in reserve in an abandoned village. Overnight, we slept somewhere very uncomfortable. The next day we were able to recover and look around. First Lieutenant Büchte is a very brave and good company commander. Then there are two lieutenants, two ensigns, and also my platoon commander Lehner, who is from Lower Austria. The whole crew is so mixed by ethnicity that the German character is almost gone: Italians, Poles, Croatians, Czechs, Slovenians, all make up a much bigger group than the Germans. Except for the Italians, they are mostly old veteran militia reservists. We were assigned to a dilapidated hut which we had to make habitable ourselves. It was assigned to three of us who were aspiring for promotion (we got promoted two days later) and one of our orderlies.

Human inhabitants (civilian ones of course) are not present anymore in this village, but instead flies and mice are in such quantities that you can hardly imagine. Except for the uncomfortable apartment, we live here almost like the officers. (One of them, named Motka, is from Trieste, and the other one, an elderly teacher named Bruscha, is the only comrade who is still with me since last Christmas.) We take turns doing our work. It now takes place mostly in the barracks, mainly in the construction of field positions. Now and then, one hears grenades from both sides flying overhead for half an hour, because we are near a howitzer battery; but you quickly get used to the little banging sounds. Otherwise, it’s pretty quiet here on the entire front. Meetings with officers, issuing orders, and other duties fill the day. In the evening, we congregate in a soldiers’ recreation center, which unfortunately does not belong to our regiment. There, we have some distraction: reading, playing chess, a concert. This place is also very heavily visited. So, it’s not that bad in the reserves. By the way, there will be a change of position in two days. Possibly, we will have to take a turn at the outpost where it will be less idyllic. On the day of the position change, we cadet aspirants will receive officers’ food. The food of the enlisted men is not bad either. So all in all, I’m doing well so far, and I hope to hear the same from all of you soon.

Please do not interpret it as laziness on my part if I don’t write to each of you separately. With the lack of space and light, it is only possible to write at the recreation center, and there only for a short time. For example, this is the third day I am writing this letter. I always share everything that is important on postcards. If we manage to get into better accommodations, I will write letters to each of you personally, if possible.

I therefore ask you, dear Papa, to send this letter on to Robert, Käthl, and Grandmother. Please also give Erich news of my well-being and my address and write to him that I can no longer write to him directly, but only through you.

I will write separately to Helene, because I have to congratulate her on her birthday. And also, I have to ask her for gloves, candles, and flashlight batteries.

With many greetings and kisses, I remain your loving

Paul

There is a lot of information packed into this letter. Paul is in a reserve regiment, the Landsturm. Although Paul is just 22 years old, according to Wikipedia, these regiments usually were made up of older men who were not considered able to serve in the regular army. He describes his surroundings and situation in a light tone, presumably not to worry his family. But we learn that he is staying in a now-abandoned and ruined town with bombs bursting overhead on a regular basis.

Like  his brother Robert in 1966 (see yesterday’s post), Paul has not forgotten his Aunt Helene’s birthday, and will be sending her a separate birthday letter for her 31st birthday.

November 15

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Today’s letter is from Helene’s nephew Robert Zerzawy in England to his cousin Eva in San Francisco.

November 15, 1966 

Dear Eva,

How can I stand before you and justify how remiss I have been? Not only did you write to me on March 28 right after your daughter’s birthday, and even in a hurry before breakfast, stressed out and on an empty stomach; you also sent me a telegram for my birthday, which I haven’t thanked you for yet. It notified me of a letter which hasn’t arrived yet, but that doesn’t let me off the hook. Your kindness of thinking of me and the birthday greetings were already reason enough for me to thank you. And what must little Helen think of an uncle who doesn’t even seem to appreciate her artistic expression? I can only assure you that I think of you often, even if it doesn’t seem like it.

At the time of the letter mentioned, you weren’t very well and had gone through operations and treatment in the hospital, and were expecting “more surgery in the future.” I’m very sorry you had to go through so much and that, because of all that, you could not devote yourself to Helen Rose as you would like to do. - The only good thing about such a long time between letters is that maybe things have improved. I hope so, with all my heart. You brought me great joy with the picture of Helen Rose with the seven candles on the big birthday cake - please tell Paul thanks and express my respect for his talent as a photographer. I hope you will do the same for your mother’s 80th birthday, and maybe I’ll have the pleasure of seeing all of you together in a photo - the last picture of Helen which I got from you is in the newspaper article when she won the Social Security game. How sweet she looks! What I would give to be able to attend that notable birthday party, but unfortunately, that isn’t possible for geographic and financial reasons, and other reasons too. - If I can’t spend time with you in person, I do want to participate somehow, and thus I have a huge favor to ask, which I hope is not too presumptuous: could you be so kind as to buy a bouquet or another appropriate present, and put it on the table with the other birthday presents - from me? Unfortunately, I didn’t think of this in time to send it via the Interflora Service; now (today) it is too late to arrange for that in time without it costing an excessive amount. I was thinking of [spending] about ten dollars. I think you could get something suitable for that amount, and I will send you the money separately by bank transfer. Now, along with all of your own troubles, you have my request to worry about; I hope it isn’t too much trouble, and I’ll definitely send a little greeting card. I’ll do that as soon as possible, and I’ll end this letter by saying thanks in advance for your friendly help in getting the present. Warm greetings to all of you, and I wish you a happy birthday celebration in honor of our dear beloved Helen, with no hint of trouble or worry.

With all my heart,        
Your Robert

I hope you are well and that Helen is, too, and all the others as well. I hope nothing gets in the way of having a happy family party.

Robert includes almost an entire year of guilt and love in this one letter. He feels bad for never sending anything for my March birthday and never acknowledging Eva’s birthday greetings for his own 67th birthday in July. He mentions Helene’s photo in the Social security game, which we saw in the April 9th post. Helene’s 80th birthday is less then 2 weeks away and he realizes he doesn’t have time to send anything in time.

Below are photos of me taken by my father at my 7th birthday party in March 1966. My father went by his middle name “Paul” which can be confusing, since we’ve spent so time with Robert’s (by then deceased) brother Paul, who played such an important role in their lives. Not half as confusing as a letter filled with mentions of two different Helens! Reading Robert’s letters makes me wish I had understood the family relationship better and that I had indeed felt that he was a kind of uncle to me. I am sorry I never met him.

November 14

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Today’s letter from Helene in Vienna to her children in San Francisco follows the one we saw on November 10. The previous letter was numbered #59 and this one is 59a - perhaps they were sent in the same envelope.

Vienna, 14 November 1940

My little bunnies!

We have California in Vienna. It is 27 degrees or more in the sun and in November -- isn’t that amazing? We have to thank God that we have not yet forgotten how to be happy. Papa invited me to take a walk and since around here there wasn’t any salt to be found (that is table salt, not the Attic salt, of which we have plenty). We went to Köberl & Pientock. We could’ve bumped into anybody on Kärntnerstrasse - it was so teeming with people and soldiers. The moon does not take the people walking around into account and doesn’t rise in the sky until we don’t need it anymore. In the dark, it is hard to do business, especially when the window coverings have been lowered even before it got dark and the doors which are just as dark are difficult to find. So, we went on to the next streetcar stop and sank down tiredly into two seats that we were lucky to find. Was it the spring-like temperature or perhaps the human spawning which we took part in without even wanting to; in any case we were exhausted as if we had taken a hike all the way to the Rax. I thought of a school song: Everything is so pregnant outside (pardon, it supposed to be splendid) and I’m doing so well, etc, etc. We came home and I had a feeling there would be a letter from you. That was not the case but I knew it’s likely one will come tomorrow. So, what is this masquerade about all this spring, when that which means spring for us is not to be found?

So Harry discovered the teacher from the forest school in Alpl in California? I met him many gray years ago, during an even grayer, rainy summer in his home town in the Semmering area and I learned to love him. While I am not usually that crazy about dialect poetry, I read his vivid descriptions with great pleasure, maybe just because my interactions with shepherd boys (the shepherd boy of Pinkenkogel was my special friend) and of the rural population near Steinhaus were always very pleasant.

I just opened up the window in the next room to let in some of the delicious evening air and I am quite fascinated by the splendor of the stars in the sky, which looks almost like the summer. Jupiter and Saturn seem to be glowing pretty brightly rather than the other planets. The constellation of these two is said to be only like this every few centuries. Papa told me very proudly that this exact situation happened in 1648 with those two planets coming so close to the earth. He says he still remembers it quite well.

Your father is coming with scissors to cut off a piece of the paper, because he thought he might have to pay more postage if the paper were bigger and he can’t stand that. So please don’t worry about the operation the paper just underwent because I really don’t have anything important to say.

I kiss you, Paul and the rest of the family and I remain your

Helen

A few thoughts and notes on today’s letter:

·      Although I could not find information about the business, I found a telephone book listing for Köberl & Pientock. It was about a mile walk from their home on Seidlgasse.
·      The Free Dictionary has a definition for “Attic wit”: “A shrewd, cutting, or subtle humor or wit. Also referred to as ‘Attic salt.’ He lays on the Attic wit a bit too often for my taste; I can never tell when he's being serious.”
·      Helene makes a pun of an old folksong called Drauss' ist alles so prächtig. My grandmother wasn’t the only one to play with the lyrics — I found a COVID-inspired version of the song which makes me long to be fluent in German.
·      Alpl is a ski resort about 75 miles southwest of Vienna, in the region of Styria. Not far away are Stemmering and Pinkenkogel:


·      It is interesting to see what a small world it was, even then – so many of the people they knew in Vienna made their way to California – like opera singers (see October 30th post) and alpine resort instructors! Helene mentioned the Semmering area in the August 20th post.

Helene was a woman ahead of her time. She had an insatiable curiosity and longed to be a published author. She was not eager to marry, living happily as a single woman in Vienna, earning her own way working at a stationery store and spending her free time in the cafes reading newspapers and having conversations with other well-read friends. When I was growing up, my mother said that Helene always wanted children, but wasn’t certain she wanted to be married. Apparently, she had a fantasy of getting pregnant with some man in the country and raising the child on her own, but met Vitali and changed her mind. I wonder whether she was thinking fondly of the shepherd boys of her youth?

November 13

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Today’s document is a bank transfer from Helene to Victor Levy in Cairo, Egypt dated November 13, 1946.

In the April 17th post, Vitali’s relative Yomtov Cohen writes from Istanbul to Helene in San Francisco to ask her to reimburse Levy Brothers Co. in Cairo for the cost of her ship voyage to the United States.

At the time of Yomtov’s letter, she had not yet arrived in the United States – she boarded the Vulcania in Alexandria Egypt on April 14th, 1946 and arrived in New York two weeks later. According to an online currency calculator, $300 would be worth $4,294 in 2021. No wonder it took her and her children six months to repay the fare.

November 12

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The Value of a Translator

I found the letters we see today in the same box where Harry kept his memorabilia from his and Eva’s trip to America on the Rex (see October 9 post) in October 1939. Not knowing German, I tried to understand why a woman (a baroness, no less!) had sent an outline of her hand to Harry or Eva. I assumed she was someone they had met on the ship. We learned earlier that their relatives in Istanbul had decided that Eva needed to learn a trade that would be useful for someone emigrating to the U.S. – she learned to make silk flowers (see May 30th post). In the 1990s, my mother made outlines of everyone in the family’s hand shape with the intention of making each of us a pair of leather gloves (unfortunately, she never got around to making them). When I saw the drawing on today’s letter, I assumed the baroness was commissioning my mother to make her a pair of gloves because they had discussed it on the ship. How wrong I was!!

After Harry died in January 2017, I began going through many boxes of papers, photos, and letters. There was no organization, so each box or envelope contained a surprise. By April 2017, I was overwhelmed by the number of letters and documents I had in German. I had no idea what most of them said or whether they were important. I needed a translator and was at a loss to find one. The final straw was finding a box of letters that I thought was filled with Helene’s correspondence – I was so happy to think I had been given a window into my grandmother’s world. Imagine my disappointment when half the box was filled with a smaller box containing the Zerzawy brothers’ World War I correspondence! At that point, I still thought of them as distant and unimportant relatives.

As I went to sleep that night, my brain was churning with how to move forward. In the middle of the night, I woke up recalling that I had gone to college with a woman who completed a PhD in German. Roslyn and I had connected a few times over the decades, but not recently. The last time we had been in touch, she was a faculty member at a local university. I hit a dead end searching the college directory because she had retired. Not being on Facebook, I asked my husband to search for her through his account. Happily, he found her and we reconnected. That middle-of-the-night aha moment led to almost four years of our working together and to my getting to know my family in a way I could never have imagined.

When we met for the first time in a café in June 2017, I showed Roslyn a few documents to give her a sense of the kinds of things that needed translating. This was months before I found the envelope that was stuffed with almost 100 of the letters Helene wrote from Vienna in 1939-1941. I brought the letter with the drawing on it since it was short and looked easy to read. What a surprise when I discovered its actual contents! 

Mandrake Collector

As you may remember, you have my hand in one of your books.  I now live in America and am slowly making a name for myself as a graphologist, and I am now getting to a place socially where it would be advantageous to use my connections to achieve something positive. I think that in my position as Baroness Hasenauer and graphologist, I could work well with mandrake root if I get enough articles into the newspapers.  Couldn’t we work together? And should we sell them for an expensive price, or “lend” them?  Where could I get mandrake roots to satisfy requests I may get? Maybe you could provide part of your collection. If you need references, maybe the German Consulate here?  May I hope to hear from you soon?

Best Wishes,
Elvira Hasenauer

12 November

Madame.

I have received your letter with the original topography [of the hand]. Unfortunately, I was not able to find your handprints in my collection, which consists of 2997 pairs of hands.  Unless you could tell me in your next letter when you had come to see me.

Regarding your request about mandrake root and our possible collaboration, I would be glad to pursue this suggestion as soon as I arrive in the USA, which has been my plan for some time. I have already submitted [application] to the American Consulate; I would be very grateful if you could use your connections to ensure quick immigration for me and my wife. I would then bring over my mandrake collection, my handprint collection and all related works.  It is an interesting field that would be suitable for both parties.

Included is a brochure containing some of the expert appraisals I have received.  If you wish, I can send you an English translation of this which I am working on.

Sincerely,

There is little easy-to-find information on the Baroness. In a newspaper search, I found an article taken from marriage records about her marriage in the December 8, 1938 edition of Baltimore Evening Sun, and announcements in the Reno Gazette of her subsequent divorce proceedings the following summer. The former stated that she married a 28-year old New York composer named Carlos Muller. She was 33-years old and “identified herself as a countess of Holland, divorced in Austria in 1937. She stated she was a graphologist.”

The Baroness’s letter is undated and the copy of Vitali’s reply does not have a year. I assume the letters were written in 1939, when Vitali got his testimonials translated (see May 22nd post) and was working to get papers so he and Helene could join their children in San Francisco.

Vitali’s handprint and mandrake collections are described in the 1934 newspaper article that we saw in the June 29th post. The Baroness had great confidence in Vitali’s abilities, thinking that the outline of her hand would be sufficient for Vitali to recall their meeting! Below is a photo of Vitali making a handprint in one of his books:

Archived with these letters was a newspaper clipping about an odd-shaped branch (not mandrake). Given that the Baroness mentions newspaper articles, it’s quite possible that she included this with her letter. In preparing today’s post, I did a quick search for “mandrake” in the New York Times, and found very few mentions, most of them before 1930.

November 11

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Although today’s card is addressed to Nathan Firestone, it is written from Helene in Vienna to her son Harry in San Francisco. 

Vienna 11 November 1939

My dear Harry boy! “Waiting” has become our profession since your departure. We fall asleep in the hope of getting mail the next morning, but until today we have only gotten the two telegrams from the USA. But we are not worried. We know that you are so well housed, but we would also like to know if you have gotten used to being there yet. You have seen and experienced so many new and wonderful things, and that makes me happy. We are healthy.

Please make excuses for me with the relatives, because I haven’t written to them yet because it wasn’t possible. I hope you get this card and believe me that no hour goes by in which I do not think of you. 

Kiss, my little Harry, many kisses.

Today’s card was the first that Harry received from his mother after he and Eva arrived in San Francisco a few weeks earlier. We learned about Eva’s and Harry’s trip to the U.S. in the October 9 post. Upon arrival in San Francisco, Harry went to live with Helene’s cousin Hilda Firestone (technically, her first cousin once removed) and her husband Nathan. Eva lived with another cousin, Bertha Schiller and her husband George.

I wrote about finding my grandmother’s letters from Vienna elsewhere on this site. From November 1939 to October 1941, Helene wrote more than 130 letters to her family in San Francisco. I have about 100 of them. Some of the others may never have made it to their destination; some may have gotten lost along the way. As she wrote this first letter to her children, she had no idea they would be separated for years or that the family would never be totally reunited again.

November 10

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Today’s letter is from Helene in Vienna to her children in San Francisco.

Vienna, 10 November 1940

My dear children!

I can confirm that I received your letter #7 from October 24; it’s taking a little longer now. Everl is grumbling because the two hours of work on Sunday is divided up in such a clumsy way. Of course, like everything else, this has its good and bad sides. On a Sunday like that you can read, you can get things organized, and then you can be sure that if your room is inspected you won’t be embarrassed. You can do your correspondence; you can practice the piano. Of course, it would be nice if you could go out and chat a little bit. However, you cannot expect the patients as long as they’re still alive to be made to sleep early in the morning. It is always better to be a nurse than a patient.

Harry’s angry verse is taking on rather a scary form now; I like his prose better and it does not contain any Napa danger. What is making my heart beat faster is your terrible grammar and the incorrect spelling that you use. I assume that you’re learning English as fast as you’re forgetting German. Your German used to be good, so I’m happy you’re learning English. My sadism is so great that I imagine that I am seeing the faces of Professor Locker and Eva’s German professor as I read your letters.

Eva mentioned a phosphorescent substance that she uses to improve her complexion. Do you still have those damned mixed pickles? [pimples] You could really get rid of these childhood maladies. Hopefully the headaches have disappeared? I deliberately never asked because Dr. Ornstein strictly forbade me to ask: “Eva, how’s your head?” For a while, I really blamed myself for being the source of your headaches, because they say “fear begets fear.” Please do not as you usually do ignore this question, please answer me truthfully.  

Harry: tsk tsk, tsk – on the other hand is giving me a headache. In almost every letter I don’t manage to figure out if “Tulli” is an American Indian or “habtschi” in Chinese or a Götz quotation in Japanese. I wanted to ask a few times but then I always forgot. I have decided that it must be American Indian and it seems to be one of the things that impressed you at Lake Tahoe. In any case, I am horrified at the thought that if this continues, I will not understand what my own flesh and blood are writing to me.

Since winter has already arrived (but the weather is very nice), Papa has outfitted me like an Eskimo. In the house, I wear warm pants, but I can’t say that it’s all quiet on the Western Front because Papa has spent the rest of my points on two vests, one of which has arms, and one of which is sleeveless.

Your father just came home and he told me with a big smile, showing me the full shopping bag, that he has spent all of his money on food. He was especially happy that he was able to use all of the week’s bread cards on Knäcke [crispbread]. You probably want to know what that is? Well, I call them “Aryan matzo”. They taste the same, like nothing at all, but they’re smaller and more burnt. You can eat them for hours without being hungry, but also without getting full. They are great as accompaniment music to Tric-Trac and they make you feel like you are closer to the ruminants. Because of our eastern citizenship, I feel closer to a ship of the desert than to the cows here at home.

That’s all for today and Kisses
Helen

How do you like my new signature? [referring to ink blot]

Helene tries to help Eva come to terms with her split shift on Sundays. We learned about Eva’s Sunday hours in the October 29 and October 30 posts.

Like his mother, Harry has been sprinkling words from a variety of languages in his letters. Helene is trying to make sense of them, but unfortunately doesn’t have access to the internet.

Helene makes light of their meager food and clothing rations while filling today’s letter with puns and word play. For example, she mentions Eva’s “mixed pickles.” The word for “pimple” in German is Pickel. She makes a pun about spelling errors and about west/vest. In the September 6 post, there is an explanation of the “Götz quotation.”

November 9

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Today we have letters from November 7 and 9, 1917. They were sent from 22-year-old soldier Paul Zerzawy to his 18-year-old brother Robert. Paul playfully addresses his brother as “lawyer” because he has begun studying law in Prague.

Feldpost 211 7 XI 1917

Dear Robert!

I am giving you my current address so that I can soon learn why you have not written me recently. Right now, I am not able to write in detail. After 4 days full of wet weather and dirt, I finally arrived yesterday at about the place I thought I would end up. Overnight I was in a village which is our reserve position, and where our company will remain for another few days.

Before writing, I had to spend four hours this morning cleaning myself, my equipment and my military clothing from the excrement of two days of marching in Romania. I haven’t seen much of my new company yet.

From the first position, you can hear massive cannon explosions and very few rifle shots, so there is not very much going on right now. Please write in detail since for the past 14 days, I haven’t known what is going on with you. I will write as soon as I have time,

Paul

Card #2

9 XI 1917

Dear Robert!

Until now I am fine, I would just be glad to hear good things from you and the other dear ones. Yesterday I was promoted to sergeant. I will continue to number my postcards. Please do the same, and always confirm receipt. This afternoon I hope I will have time to write letters.

A kiss from Paul

One reason Paul hasn’t heard from his brother recently is that he had been writing to Robert at his law school address in Prague. That address is crossed out on both cards, with the forwarding address to their home in Brüx, Bohemia written in red. We saw in the October 3 post that Robert was doubting his law studies in 1918. Perhaps he was already feeling that way in 1917 and took a leave of absence?

Paul plays down any danger he is in, commenting on the uncomfortable march to his new position and mentioning the sounds of cannon fire as if it were nothing. He also makes nothing of his promotion – just a brief mention in the midst of the unceasing requests for news from the family.

November 8

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Today we have a letter from G.I. Harry Lowell on Desert Training Center California stationery to his sister Eva in San Francisco. Harry wrote first page in German, the rest in English. 

November 15, 1943

In German:

Dearest Sister,

I am writing this letter to test my knowledge of the German language. I am afraid that I will not be able to hold an intelligent, grammatically-correct conversation if I should be forced to use my knowledge of the language. With bow and arrow through mountains and valleys comes flying the Elf King… Who rides so late through night and wind. It is the father with his child. He holds the boy child in his arms, he holds him safe, he keeps him warm… Who has built you, you beautiful forest… Elf, never should you ask me, nor worry about where I come from and …

In English:

Say, that’s pretty good for me considering the fact that I haven’t uttered more than two sentences of German for four years!

Please, write me in your next letter whether I deserve an “A+” or not.

I got your letter and was glad to hear of the good job you are holding now.

I’ll be glad when somebody buys you a typewriter, for your writing isn’t getting any better with your age. Are you getting callouses on your fingers or do you suffer from diabetes; that’s the only way I explain the decline of regularity and harmony in your penmanship. (Maybe you ought to cut out night life, eh?) See my lawyer (Rechtsanwalt [correctly recalled word for “lawyer” in German]). I’m getting good.

What have you girls been doing lately in the way of athletics? (I seem to be in an insulting mood today) 

How is the “snake” charming family; I think they are very nice people, indeed. I am glad you are staying with them instead of with any relatives.

You flatter me with your complaint of my talent of “How to Make Friends and Influence People” (Do you want to take a correspondence course in it?)

What’s the dirt, Myrt?

There isn’t much to tell you right now; the same thing goes on every day.

It’s getting quite late now, and I am getting quite sleepy.

Keep injecting and save your money.

Well, good night!

Your one and only brother,
Harry

P.S. Say hello to everyone in your household.

This letter was written a week later than the one we saw in yesterday’s post. In both letters, Harry refers to the fact that Eva is living with the family of a friend from nursing school, rather than with their own family. I don’t know what was so difficult for my mother – it may have been that they had expectations that she was unwilling to meet, both in what she should do and how she should act. Rather than trying to get along and smooth the waters as her brother would have done, her innate honesty likely led her to be direct about her feelings and to make clear her unwillingness to follow their advice. Harry simply would have nodded, smiled, said something charming, and then done whatever he wanted to do.

On the first page of the letter, Harry practices his rusty German. At this point in his training, he does not know where he will be posted and may be thinking his German may come in handy. Harry tries to recall lines from of various songs and poems from their childhood. He begins by quoting the first stanza of a famous Goethe poem Erlkönig - Elf King – based on Erlking, a German fairy tale, which he recalls almost perfectly.

Harry will refer again to the Elf King in a letter he writes two years later (see October 13th post). This story must have been a family favorite.

The line about the forest is from a Mendelssohn song, Wer hat dich, du schöner Wald, with lyrics by Joseph von Eichendorff.

The final snippet is from a duet from Wagner’s Lohengrin.

November 7

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Today we have a letter from G.I. Harry Lowell to his sister Eva in San Francisco. He is in desert training in southern California (see August 16 post).

November 7, 1943

Dear Sister,

Well, I’ve finally decided to write you a letter – after a lot of struggling with myself. This is the first letter I have written since I came back from my furlough.

You’ve probably received that recording from L.A. by now; I don’t think that voice sounds like mine at all, do you? The lady that made the record at the U.S.O. dragged me into her studio, and I couldn’t say no.

How is everything going with you? Did you find a job that suits you yet?

We are having quite a few sandstorms these days; have you ever been in a sandstorm? Most of our tents were blown away or torn; we have to wear goggles to protect our eyes; the food consists of 50% sand; our rifles and trucks are clogged up most of the time, etc. All in all, it’s a mess. We are told that it wouldn’t last much longer. (I hope)

On my trip to the desert I looked all over for snakes, but I didn’t even see a lizard. As for cacti (cactuses? cactusi?), I saw very beautiful ones but wasn’t able to get any because they belonged to a hotel at Palm Springs. Tell Mrs. Koenig (I think that’s her name) I’ll keep looking.

I have been quite disgusted lately; blue is the word. The other day I drove for the salvage depot and saw one of a few examples of inexcusable waste. Brand new test tubes, pill boxes, first aid kits (containing hard-to-get drugs), loads of filter paper, and cases of sodium amytal for injections. All these things had been thrown together with old clothes, storm tents, shoes, and other salvage. I could have killed the officer who was responsible for such an outrageous waste of and unconcern for valuable government property. Grr!

Quite a few of the men in the company are getting soft gums and bad teeth because a stupid bastard of a colonel or general has made up his mind to feed us canned food only. Oh, I am so mad*!@% (Could you send me a set of teeth?)

Well, that’s all for now. Say hello to your household, keep your nose clean, and don’t get into any fights with the family.

As always,
Your favorite brother,
Harry

P.S. How about that picture? What’s your phone number?

I included a photo of a USO recording Harry made in the May 3rd post – I assumed he had made it for her birthday. I have a vague memory of listening to it when I was a child, but can no longer make it work.

In this and other letters, Harry refers to Mrs. Koenig – she was the mother of Eva’s fellow nursing student Ursula Lucks and Eva’s landlady for many years. I remember her as a sweet old lady who took me to the zoo. Earlier this year I searched on Ancestry for more information, and discovered that Margaret Koenig was born in Germany in 1898. Her daughter Ursula Lucks also was born in Germany. Margaret was widowed before coming to the U.S. with Ursula in 1927. According to the 1930 census, she worked as a wrapper in a candy factory (shades of I Love Lucy!). In 1934, she married Ewald Koenig, also an emigré from Germany.

Here is a photo from the late 1940s of Helene, Mrs. Koenig, her husband, daughter, and my parents:

Back row: Helene, Mrs. Koenig’s second husband Ewald Koenig, Ursula Lucks, Eva
Front row: Margarate Koenig, Eva’s husband LP Goldsmith

November 6

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Today we see a copy of the first page of a letter Helene’s nephew Paul Zerzawy wrote to his step-brother Franz Orlik and his wife Hanne in Haifa. Paul’s father Julius married Franz’s mother in 1921, long after Paul and his brother Robert had left home and were living independent lives. Paul arrived in the U.S. in April 1939 and had been trying to make his way in New York City before giving up and joining his young cousins Eva and Harry and other family members in San Francisco. Perhaps he only stayed in New York long enough to make sure Eva and Harry arrived safely by ship and put them on a train to San Francisco (see October 23rd post). In New York, Paul’s mother’s cousin Bertha Schiller’s son Arthur provided advice and assistance. In San Francisco, Bertha and her husband George opened their home to my mother Eva while she finished high school. Upon Paul’s arrival in San Francisco, Bertha and George welcomed Paul too. In the letter he refers to his step-mother as “Mother” and mentions Leo, her brother.

6 November 1939

Dear Fritz, dear Hanne:

Your card was sent to me from Mr. Schiller from New York, I have been in San Francisco just a short time now, staying with Mr. Schiller’s parents. I was happy to see that you are at least in good health. Since I haven’t had any news about you for a very long time, and then contradictory news, I had already begun to worry quite a bit about your fate. Unfortunately, since the war, all connections with Bohemia and Germany have been cut off so that I have had no news at all from Mother nor from Leo nor from any other relatives in Prague or Vienna. I have received some letters from Robert during the war, but I haven’t heard from him in about 4 weeks.

I was very concerned about your wishes about your alleged share of the amount of money I got from Prague. I am not surprised however, because Mother in her last letter made some comments from which I understood that she had some quite false ideas about the nature of this money transfer. I tried to make this clear to her in my reply letter, but I’m not sure whether she got this letter, nor how she may have received the news since as I said, I have had no answer from this letter (to which I sent a number of further letters and cards, as I still regularly write either to Mother or Leo every two weeks). I’m afraid that it wasn’t possible for me to convince her, because I had to write sort of in insinuations because of censorship, and I want to hope that the only reason that there hasn’t been any news from her and from Leo did not have to do with this ill humor and could be blamed on postal issues.

I can write to you without circumlocutions and insinuations. You will then understand me better. I think you must know me well enough to know that if you were due anything, I would send you your part of it without being asked, or I would at least let you know about it, especially the latter because up until now I didn’t have your correct address, only your auxiliary address. Unfortunately, the allegations that you make which probably come from Mother are not correct, but I am convinced that Mother did this in good faith. It’s not true first of all that the money left over that has been sent here is everyone’s common property from the inheritance. And secondly, it is not true that I already am provided for. The first claim is probably a result of an incorrect interpretation of the circumstances. But it is puzzling to me where the second claim comes from, because unfortunately I have not and could not report anything so positive about myself. The best proof of this is that I left New York and moved to San Francisco, which I probably would not have done if I had been able to get any kind of work in New York. I am staying with the family of my sponsor who are taking care of my needs without asking for money, but I cannot take advantage of this hospitality for more than a limited amount of time, and after that I will be at the mercy of the refugee committee if I am not able to find a job, which of course I hope I will.

We have seen parts of this “conversation” earlier in the year – we saw a card from Paul’s step-mother in the February 10th post.  In the letter above, he refers to earlier correspondence like the card saw in the September 19th post.

By the time Paul and Robert’s father Julius married Franz’s mother in 1921, he had been widowed twice – once in 1902 and again in 1910. He was a soldier in World War I. By the end of 1918, only his children Paul and Robert were still living – his son Erich died while a POW in Eastern Siberia, and his two daughters died while in their teens. In his October 3rd letter, Paul muses about the state of their finances and their grandmother’s fate if they cannot afford to keep the family home in Brüx. It must have been very disorienting after the war for Julius to find himself with an empty nest – perhaps no nest at all. It makes sense he would want to marry again. Julius died in January 1939 and it appears from this letter that his step-mother and step-sibling expected a larger share of his estate.

November 5

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The real nightmare begins


Life in Vienna became virtually intolerable for Jews by the late 1930s. Helene and Vitali remained there until late 1943 when Germany arrested Turkish citizens and those of other countries who had been allowed up until that time to remain. If their native countries did not repatriate their citizens, these people were deported to the death camps just as German citizens and those of annexed countries had been.

Despite the humor and affection, Helene’s letters to her children from 1939-1941 give us a vivid picture of the difficult times they lived in – food and heat were in scarce supply. They were not allowed to earn money at the same time as costs skyrocketed. Every attempt to escape Vienna was thwarted by bureaucracy and rule changes. Helene wrote about the times leading up to and including their arrest in the October 15 post. On November 5, 1943, she and Vitali arrived at their respective hells: Ravensbrück and Buchenwald. As we learned in the August 24 post, Vitali did not survive the war.

Germany kept meticulous records and today we see paperwork from Helene and Vitali’s registration into each camp.

November 4

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Helene’s daughter Eva received her license as a Registered Nurse in November 1943, at the age of 22. We saw her nursing degree in the September 22 post. At the time, her 19-year old brother was in the army, being trained before being shipped out. We saw his first letter from the South Pacific in the February 3 post.

In other letters, we’ve seen how Eva dreamed of using her nursing degree to leave San Francisco and see the world. Instead, she stayed home to help her bring her parents to the U.S. should the possibility arise. Eva and Harry have had little word from their parents in Vienna since the U.S. entered the war in 1941. They do not know that Helene and Vitali are about to be deported to concentration camps (see October 15 post).

Eva with her graduating class in 1943.

November 3

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Today we see two letters written a week apart from POW Erich Zerzawy in Eastern Siberia to his siblings in Brüx, Bohemia. Mail is now taking three to four months to reach its destination, if it makes it there at all.

11 November ’17.

My dear ones!

To my great regret, I am once again without any contact with you. Only from Berthold’s, Roubitscheks, and Helen have I received answers to my cards sent in July. They all arrived at the same time. I’d really love to know what’s going on with you. How Paul feels like a hero in the field, Robert as a recruit, and Kätherl a future teenager! I can imagine how Grandma is proud of everyone, but is also worried about all of us. If that’s justified, well, let’s not go there. In any case, she is sure that we are trying our best. Today we have ice skating for the first time. It was hard work, as you could see from our sweaty faces until it was done. But it’s a very healthy activity. Hoping for all the best for you.

Your old faithful
Erich

18 November ’17

My dear ones!

Robert’s cards from August 10th concern me. You did not quite understand the letter to Ernst Sedlacek and worried about it unnecessarily. He thinks the team camp is everything except the officer’s camp. We first years live in a separate area which is even locked by a post. [?], so we are separated from the others and just among ourselves. This is not of any great importance, since all of the barracks are alike. I’ve already told you a lot about my work in my letters. Small jobs for ourselves and sometimes these are done by paid workers. Don’t lose your head over this! You can at least believe what I tell you as much as you believe others. Next week a letter again. Thanks to Anni Weis for the card. Sincere greetings and kisses. Your

Erich

As I mentioned in earlier posts, when I first began my family history journey, the Zerzawy brothers seemed very distant from and unimportant to me. I almost didn’t bother getting these World War I letters translated because I couldn’t imagine they had much bearing on my family’s story. How wrong I was!

Paul, Robert, and Erich were my grandmother’s nephews and thus my mother’s first cousins. Although they were the same generation on the family tree, the Zerzawys were a generation older than Harry and Eva, having been born in the 19th Century. Eva and Harry knew Paul because they were neighbors in Vienna and he helped them make their way to San Francisco, where he also lived until his death in 1948. Robert apparently visited now and again, but wasn’t the constant presence in their lives that Paul was. Erich died in 1918, before Eva was born, so they only knew him through family stories and photos. By the time I was born, only Robert was still living, and he died in England before I was 10 years old.

In the November 11th letter, 19-year old Erich tries to imagine the lives of his siblings, whom he hasn’t seen since joining the army. It’s sad to think he will never see them again. In thinking about his young sister, he uses an old slang word for a teenage girl: Backfisch – “fish for frying.” According to a blog about language, it has an affectionate, rather than derogatory, meaning. Wikipedia has an entry for “Backfischroman,” a type of novel that was written for teenage girls. 

Although Erich talks about having written to the family about the work he did in the POW camp, the letters we have don’t tell us much. Perhaps those letters were lost or censored.

I always like seeing my grandmother Helene mentioned. It allows me to imagine her as an unmarried woman living in Vienna, separated from her mother and her sister’s children in Bohemia, but remaining close to all of them in spirit and in letters.

November 2

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Helene’s son Harry received his Honorable Discharge from the U.S. Army on November 1, 1945 while recuperating from a tropical illness at Mitchell Convalescent Hospital at Camp Lockett in California.

In the October 12th and 13th posts, we saw two letters from Harry while he was at the hospital.

In earlier letters, Harry anticipated being stationed in the South Pacific until well into 1946. He and his sister Eva must have been grateful that he was discharged earlier and now could help get their mother to the U.S. from Istanbul, where she had been stuck for months.

November 1

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In her letter from October 30, Helene mentions that Eva would be receiving a letter from their friend Jo addressed to her and someone named Alf. Today’s letter is addressed to Eva and Alf, but signed by someone named Hans (perhaps Jo’s son?).

1 November ‘40

Dearest Eva and dearest Alf!

It makes me really sad that I haven’t heard anything from you, my dear sweet friends! About you Eva, I know only that you are doing well in school, but I just don’t understand why Alf hasn’t written anything at all!

We are doing about the same. Mama is so old that she makes work for two people and I have to defray all of the expenses myself and I am not making any progress. Everything really is just too much for me. Tingling is also a matter of concern. She has been under a doctor’s care for a while.

If I could see you or just had news, I would be calmer. I don’t understand why I don’t get any mail! I don’t go to the theater much. I heard that Lehman is singing in [San] Francisco. Tempi passati! What are Lia, Peter and Pucki doing and how are they? And how about Mama? Please, please write to me. Harry is surely learning to speak fluent Spanish again! What about the times when we were playing with Pedril, Arche and Noah? Now dearest Eva and Harry, all the best and love and I wish you dear Alf all the best. Greet all the loved ones and please send news.

Your old faithful
Hans

It appears that Helene shared Eva’s letters with Hans who is responding to much of the same news as Helene did in her last few letters – Eva’s studies, Harry studying Spanish, former Viennese singers like Lotte Lehmann now living and performing in the United States. Poor Hans is lonely without his friends who have all fled Vienna. Like Eva and Harry, he too has had to grow up quickly and must care for his ill mother, with little hope in sight for a brighter future.

 

October 31

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In this application letter to the California Redwood Association, we learn about Harry’s life after being discharged from the army.

October 31, 1951

Dear Sir:
I am very much interested in the position we discussed today and should like to give you a summary of my qualifications, as you suggested.

I am 28 years of age, graduate of Mission High School in San Francisco and of the University of California at Berkeley, with a major in Communication and Public Policy and a minor in science and foreign languages.

After graduation from high school in 1941 I worked as general office clerk and city collector for the Triangle Produce Company in Sacramento until my induction into the Army in March 1943. My army experience included among other duties that of personnel and information and education noncom for battalion headquarters in the South Pacific area. Honorably discharged in November 1945, I entered the employ of Wm. Taaffe & Company, San Francisco as bookkeeper and assistant to the secretary treasurer and worked there until February 1947. I then began my studies in the College of Agriculture, switched to the College of Letters and Science a year and a half later, and graduated in January 1951. At the present time I am working as technical translator for the Institute of Engineering Research at the University of California.

The major of Communication and Public Policy covered the study of the nature of language and the nature of the media of mass communication: radio, press, and film, as well as the role played by informative and persuasive communication in modifying the character of public opinion and public institutions. The curriculum included courses in the social sciences, public speaking, content analysis, and journalism. Extra-curricular activities included those of social chairman and president of a students’ living group.

During the last two and a half years of my college career I worked as library assistant in the library of the departments of Engineering and Architecture, doing general library and reference work.

I shall be happy to answer any questions concerning my qualifications and am at your disposal at any time.

Yours sincerely,
Harry L. Lowell

References:….

Harry got the job and worked for the California Redwood Association for several years. The position allowed him to travel all over the United States and not be stuck at a desk. The students’ living group he mentions was the University Student Cooperative Association (the USCA, now called the Berkeley Student Cooperative), which offered cheap housing for students in exchange for them working several hours a week, thus saving money on cleaners, cooks, etc. The USCA was an important part of Harry’s life. Through the co-op, he met his future wife. After working for the Redwood Association, he had a job for several years at the USCA. Through that job he met a small Oakland printer, which led him to buying the printer’s shop when he retired, thus following in his mother’s and grandfather’s footsteps by providing printing and stationery services.

October 30

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As we learned in yesterday’s letter, Vitali would only go to the post office on Fridays, so this letter from Helene to her children was probably sent along with those from October 28 and 29. 

Clipper 57b                             Vienna, 30 October 1940

My dear little bunnies!

Yesterday I grumbled a little bit, and today a letter actually arrived (#6 from October 15). The question I asked Eva yesterday – whether she has Sunday off – have become pointless because the letter today explains all that. Two hours of work on Sunday wouldn’t be all that bad, but it’s unfortunate that they are so far apart. Well, you can’t do anything about that. I guess life would be just too good otherwise. About the first evening dress that Tillie bought for you - you had a cyclamen-colored lipstick to match the dress and I do hope that you don’t go for a bright green one. Harry, as a kitchen expert, well that’s nothing new. It’s interesting that Papa recently brought me a rolling pin to make pastry with, to which I kind of had the same reaction as Hilda did. Only the fact that there were a whole week’s ingredients in that dough, that’s the only reason I didn’t throw the dough right at the wall. The dough did not really stay stuck to the roller but one sheet of dough only made two cakes, which were only the size of a flat plate. It would be efficient, but imagine if everybody were a little wanted to eat fine cakes? No, no, I’m going to use the old system, even if Papa calls me backward because of it. Harry had the same wish to rescue the reputation of the Viennese coffee cream torte. That’s sweet, funny. Yes, yes. Two souls and one thought, two hearts but only one stomach. Since your letter today arrived, Papa’s been scratching and he is of the opinion that our sacred boy stuck a flea in the envelope. At least the description of the flea hunt was a journalistic masterpiece, even if Papa who usually only believes in facts was able to imagine the magic of being bitten by a flea.

You wanted to hear more about our subletters? Okay, let me present to you Herr Lubinger, an old age pensioner who has quite a historic face. His activities now are going to get cigarettes for himself, going to get milk for me, copying my recipes for his wife, and asking me if we could make all of that again. I told him, well, yes, eventually. While his wife and I support each other in house and culinary work, he sits there over a chess problem. In the afternoon he reads Homer or Ovid or he borrows one of the books that we still have around.

Frau L looks like your piano teacher Einö-Zweiö and I managed to impress her because I was twice as tall and three times as wide. After we wash dishes, we don’t see each other until we make breakfast together. This is the time for cooking lessons. The recipe instruction “you take a…” is a problem that is hard to solve., but at the last moment the redeeming thought will come. Mrs. Clara Friedman, on whose recommendation we decided to take this pair in as our subletters, is now herself in a difficult situation because her big apartment has been requested. Unfortunately, I cannot reach her by phone anymore, because she no longer has a phone. If Everl gets a letter from Jo, “dear Eva and dear Alf”, don’t believe she is crazy. The letter is actually for both of you and you should send the original to Alf. Your mother is fresh and spry and at the moment quite busy with sewing sleeves onto your father’s sleeveless vest (without eyeglasses). What a generation that was! So, does Lotte Lehmann still sing? I cannot imagine “Rosenkavalier” being performed without Richard Meyer. What is Mr. Fleischer doing? Does Paul get together with him very often?

That’s enough for today! Keep me in your loving thoughts and stay the way you are. I love you!

Helen

P.S. Say hello to everybody.

In addition to numbering and keeping copies of letters, Helene often gives a recap of the letters she receives, giving us a sense of their “conversations.” It’s impressive to see how quickly mail arrives when it does arrive – I don’t know that our international mail is any quicker these days.

Helene’s comment about both Vitali’s and Harry’s desire to “help” in the kitchen sounded like a quotation and it is. The original is: “Zwei Seelen und ein Gedanke, zwei Herzen und ein Schlag" Two minds with but a single thought; two hearts that beat as one attributed to Eligius Franz Joseph von Münch-Bellinghausen from “Der Sohn der Wildnis” in 1842

It is wonderful to hear more about the couple sharing their apartment – each letter brings them more fully into focus. They provide a welcome distraction from the ever-worsening situation in Vienna as well as from the sporadic mail delivery.

I could not find any mention of Richard Meyer, but found an advertisement in the San Francisco Examiner for a performance of “Der Rosenkavalier” on October 16, 1940 featuring Lotte Lehmann. I assume Eva wrote to her parents about this, and perhaps even attended.

From The San Francisco Examiner, October 16, 1940, p. 35

Baritone Arthur Fleischer was born in Vienna in 1881, arrived in San Francisco in 1939, and died there in 1948. Interesting to hear that Helene’s nephew Paul Zerzawy was friends with him. Like Paul, he taught music and performed in the Bay Area. The San Francisco Examiner from 1939 and the 1940s has several articles and advertisements about Fleischer. In an article about his first concert in San Francisco, on page 52 of the May 7, 1939 edition of the San Francisco Examiner it said: “Famous throughout Central Europe as opera and concert star, Baritone Arthur Fleischer, a newcomer here, will give a debut recital at the Century Club Thursday evening….Fleischer will sing arias of ‘Don Giovanni,’ ‘Meistersinger,’ Verdi’s ‘Requiem’ and ‘Don Carlos’ and Smetana’s ‘Bartered Bride.’” Helene and Vitali had musical soirees at their home in Vienna – I wonder whether Fleischer ever joined them?