December 28

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Today we have a card from Helene’s nephew 18-year old POW Erich Zerzawy in eastern Siberia addressed to his siblings in Brüx, Bohemia. Later letters from the POW camp were sent on Red Cross stationery, so this was probably sent in 1916. The card had to pass through the censor in Vienna before being passed on to its recipients.

Beresowka 30/XII

Dear Siblings, Dear Grandma!

I am healthy and, despite my circumstances, doing fine. Unfortunately, I still haven’t gotten any news from you. But I continue to hope that you are doing well at home. In the new year we will probably see each other. I hope that you will write to Paul, Helene, etc. because I am only allowed to write two cards a week.

Farewell. Don’t worry about me. 1000 kisses.

Your Erich


This is one of the earliest letters sent from Erich as a POW. We saw what may have been his first letter in the December 12th post. The only thing I know about him is through these short cards and letters. Reading between the few lines, he appears to have been a very mature, sensitive, and loving young man. He rarely complains, and usually tries to be upbeat, assuring his family that he is fine and asking them not to worry. Rather, he worries about them. What a generous soul and what a tragedy that his life was cut short.

Like his aunt Helene who would be imprisoned almost 30 years later during a different war, one of the many privations he suffered was the limited number of letters he was allowed to send and receive. For a family that valued connection and contact, this must have felt like yet another torment.

December 27

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Today we have a letter from Helene in Vienna to her daughter Eva in San Francisco. Helene has been apart from her children for more than a year.

Clipper #65

Vienna, 27 December 1940

My golden Eva child!

When I sent the official birthday letter to Hilda, which only included a heartfelt greeting to you, you must have been thinking to yourself: “what marvelous stuff is mom up to now?” I often ask myself that when I come home in the evening exhausted, partly because I’m so tired and partly because my brain is not getting enough healthy food, and I cannot fall asleep. So I lay awake in bed and I think about you and I am very happy that my thoughts are not rousing you out of your sleep. If our bedtime were the same, I would have to, as a loving mother, just imagine it. Sometimes (?) I’m just so afraid and I am shocked at the innate powers in us which allow us to survive this separation. We received letter #11 from November 13 on December 8 and that was the last letter from you, #9 still has not arrived.

Now I want to tell you why my days are so full. When you have two unfamiliar households in one apartment with different habits, well there’s quite an incredible need to get along and compromise and it requires a lot of tact just so everything will seem to run smoothly. I am usually the responsible party, although I really can’t complain about my tenants – they do what they can, but really, that’s all they do. When we are making breakfast, I do everything so we don’t collide. It’s not really necessary to put two tea mugs out when one person needs warm water to do the washing, they say: sorry, you can’t do it now - we don’t have an extra burner. So we have to divide up our work and our habits in the same way because we can’t do everything at the same time and so it takes longer than it normally would for that amount of work. Another thing is that the taxes are now harder to figure out than they were before because now there’s a whole different way that that is done. Just like a sick person causes more work than a healthy one, a dying business provides you with more to do than a perfectly healthy one. Besides that, I have quite an extensive correspondence, which in many cases gets no answer. If those who receive my answers would go to the trouble of considering that I am giving them everything I possibly can, in other words the little bit of free time and the last bit of energy I have, I’m sure my letters would be answered more conscientiously.

However, I haven’t changed much and I still think 2 times 2 is 5, and my sense of humor is irrepressible, only that I use it as they say in the “Mikado”:

 “I call my humor forth
in every case because the material that the court
gives me
is so cheerful and popular.
Even if such an idiot
would lose his head.” etc. etc [it rhymes in German]

Because of all the work that the post office has with the Christmas holidays and the coming new year, I can hardly expect to get mail in the next 14 days and I will have to strive to get through this time as best I can. I am imagining what a wonderful feeling it will be when I open the door to the mail carrier and he actually hands me a letter from you.

Harry-boy is not going to get his due because I don’t have time to write to him today. Please give him greetings and birthday wishes and kisses from me, because maybe the birthday letter won’t get there.

At the moment it is necessary again to pay close attention to the numbering of the letters and to tell me which letters of mine did not arrive (at least since last time). 

That’s all for today because I need to go to the dentist, because my most important Christmas surprise was a filling that fell out.

Live well my good, brave Eva-girl and do write in detail so that I can be recompensed for the letters that got lost. Please give all the dear ones my greetings and a big hug from

Helen

P.S. Don’t forget to say hello to Miss Maxine from me.


Although Helene mentions that she greeted Eva in her birthday letter to Hilda, in fact it was a postscript to the letter she wrote on the same day to Harry, which we saw in the December 20th post. I think she saved copies of all her letters, but since the P.S. was a handwritten afterthought, she probably forgot which of the letters she added it to.

Helene’s unquenchable thirst for news from her children rings out loud and clear, as it does in so many of her letters. I don’t know when Eva and Harry began numbering their letters – if they did so religiously, it means their mother has written six letters for each one they sent.

We hear a little about the hardships in Vienna, about which we learned in more detail in other letters: their failing business, living with housemates, unreliable mail – and to top it off – dental  problems whose cost they could hardly bear.

My husband grew up on Gilbert and Sullivan, and I showed him Helene’s lines in German from The Mikado. He’s pretty sure that she made up her own lyrics to the song “A More Humane Mikado (My Object All Sublime).” The cadence of her lyrics work with the chorus:

My object all sublime
I shall achieve in time —
To let the punishment fit the crime —
The punishment fit the crime;
And make each prisoner pent
Unwillingly represent
A source of innocent merriment!
Of innocent merriment!

One thing that struck me in this letter was Helene’s comment that for her 2x2=5. When I was in high school, the philosophy behind and rules for teaching math changed, with the advent of “New Math.” As we have seen this year, my grandmother loved language. She passed on her love of wordplay to her children, who in turn passed it on to their children. My mother loved writing poems in honor of special occasions and her poems for retiring colleagues were the hit of the San Francisco Public Health Department. I am in awe of my mother’s fluency – I cannot imagine writing poetry and satire in a second language, certainly not with much success. When I was introduced to and frustrated by New Math, I was inspired to write a poem myself. It began:

“New Math is fun,
New Math is great,
When 1 and 1
And 4 make 8….”

I don’t recall anything about New Math, but I remember the first lines of my poem!

December 26

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Today we have a postcard from Helene’s nephew soldier Paul Zerzawy to his family in Brüx, Bohemia.

#12

24 December, 1917

From the Christmas party with my closest circle of friends, your Paul sends you this greeting.

Robert, with his critical painter’s eye, will not be happy with the proportions of horse and rider, or of the person leading the horse. I can’t help it!


In the long letter to his family which we saw in the December 17th post, Paul wrote about the four good friends he has made at his new post. It looks like all of them signed this card. It is nice to see that he was not alone at Christmas while his family members were gathered together poring over his holiday letter.  

In general, Paul’s letters and cards are serious and business-like. Today’s card is short but full of fun – probably thanks to his friends and festivities. In honor of the holiday, he has chosen to send a card with an illustration on the front (albeit one for which he apologizes), rather than the usual army stationery.

December 25

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On Christmas Day, we have a photo and a holiday note from Helene’s son Private Harry Lowell from 1943 and 1944, and a photo of her nephew, 24-year old Robert Zerzawy, taken on Christmas in 1923. As we’ve seen throughout December, Helene and her family treasured being together, particularly for holidays and birthdays – even when two world wars kept them apart, they never stopped thinking about each other. 

Here is Harry during training in southern California in 1943:


Below is a V-mail letter from Private Harry Lowell to Helene’s cousin Bertha and her husband George Schiller in San Francisco. Harry’s note: “I hope you both will enjoy the holidays. I’ll be sitting ‘neath a palm tree thinking of home. Fondly, Harry”

There is no year, but from the context, it was probably sent in 1944 from New Guinea. In the August 7th post, we saw Harry’s “self-portrait” sitting under a palm tree. 


Here is a photo of Helene’s nephew Robert, taken in Hamburg in 1923:

I don’t know how long Robert lived in Hamburg. His brother Paul kept a packet of photos from there– perhaps a gift from Robert at the same time this photo was taken? Or purchased by Paul when he visited his brother for the holidays? Although there is no date on the album, I found a similar album from 1920 for sale online.

December 24

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Today we have a letter from Helene in Istanbul to her nephew Robert Zerzawy in England. Yesterday, we saw a letter from Robert written a day earlier to her children in San Francisco. In it, he recalls their childhood in Vienna. Today, Helene does the same today and remembers happy times she had with Robert and Paul in Bohemia.

“There is no greater sadness than to remember
the happy times amid the misery.” 

Istanbul, 24 December 1945

My dear Robert!

When I received your letter filled with love, the first family letter in my exile, I cried for the first time since I’ve come under the radar. Today is almost predestined to hold my lost Paradise before my eyes. Do I not in spirit tear off a calendar page every day, and every day, every minute, every second, which I spend here without purpose, useless, and unhappy, did I not know that today is the day that I have chosen as the eve of a family week? Outside the sun shines as if it were May, only the sadly short days remind me that we are still deep in winter. The long nights are horrible, I fear them more than the Gestapo, blessed memories.

Robert, when I was ordered by the Command in Ravensbrück, along with 31 other respectable women on the 28th of February, to go to Turkey, none of us thought nor believed that we had been given freedom. I dared to ask what will happen with our men in Buchenwald and the “Political Superintendent” replied that he could give me no precise answer to this, but that he believed that we might meet them in Lübeck or in Sweden.

Our group waited five days for Turkish students living in various German university cities. On the fifth day came transport with about 150 persons, consisting of women, men, and children, Spanish Jews who lived all over the world, but who had been housed en famille in the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp. My courage and hope to be reunited with Vitali grew. We were transported via Flensburg-Copenhagen to Elsinore, from there to Sweden and Helsingborg where a reporter from a Stockholm newspaper promised to notify Eva. Through him it became known that I was in Sweden. From Helsingborg we were taken to Gothenborg, where we waited for diplomatic transport.

The general consuls of Vienna, Berlin, and Hamburg comforted me by saying that those from Buchenwald took another route and perhaps would be taken to Turkey via Marseille. My courage began to sink. Via Skagerak and Kattegat we went to Norway, then the Faroe Islands where we picked up internees from England, and from there to Liverpool (how close I was to you), Lisbon, Gibraltar, along the north African coast to Port Said then via the Dodekanese through the Dardenelles to Istanbul.

Vitali’s sisters, who had read my name in the newspaper immediately looked me up and overwhelmed me with questions. “Where is Vitali?” Why didn’t you bring him with you?” “How could you go away without him?” It was not meant as badly as it sounded. The people had, and have, no idea about what and how it was in Europe. When I finally managed to convince them that I was not responsible for world affairs they became nice and friendly with me. A feeling of friendship (hostility?) towards them, and also they towards me, has not been overcome. It is strange that I seem to not only have more rapport with the younger generation, but that I understand them better. 

The difference between East and West is too enormous. Yesterday I received an answer to my inquiry to: Foreign Relations Department, British Red Cross & Order of St. John, Wimborne House Arlington 35 London SW 1. A MmeY. St. Martin Watts requested still more data that should help to make the finding of Vitali easier. For two months my completed and signed papers have been ready at the consulate; in the meantime, two ships have left without me; because of fatal circumstances my departure was prevented. Perhaps it is better so, perhaps before the departure of my ship I’ll hear some news of Vitali and I can answer the unspoken question: “Helen, where is Vitali? – Read: Cain, where is your brother Abel?” – I can give a joyful answer: He lives!

Robert, my dear dear boy, I have read your letter so often, and again, or more correctly, I’ve discovered a kind of “dislocation” of the heart and mind. You ask yourself, how all of you, who did not have to go through my suffering, can understand this through my eyes? I am so happy that each of you was spared this.

Love is a kind of Hydra, that for every head that you cut off grows nine new ones. Had I ten children and fifty nephews, my supply of love would not diminish, on the contrary it would overflow. (Pardon my pathetic style it is not intentional. I am no longer accustomed to writing letters and when I go from one extreme to another, I beg for your complete pardon.)

Robert, everything in this world has its price. I have paid the highest price for my good fortune. When I built a nice home for my children it was not just my thought, as it is with all mothers, that her children would have a better life than she herself had, but a vow that I made when I came back from a “relaxing vacation” in Brüx. It took weeks before I recovered from my recuperation trip. To see you freeze, I mean mentally, in the comfortable warm rooms, always cuts into my heart. Paul’s moody nature and your caring disposition are the results of an apparently brilliant, but joyless and loveless youth.

Your little mother did what and how she could. Robert how often have I longed in the last two years for that love, which, when I was still young and immature I scorned, because I believed I was being crushed by love. I also yearn for Vitali’s care, tutelage, and his desire to think of me.

Robert, perhaps it seems to you that I see my past life through rose-colored glasses. No Robert, believe me I was lucky that I could build myself up and that I did not fall into depression but was always mentally fully conscious. Paul can verify this for you; I talked with him about it once. I did not lead a Polykrates existence which an Egyptian king would have envied. On the contrary, I always said that I lived the purest life of the treasure seeker: “daily work, evening guests, unhappy times, joyful celebrations.”  The joyful celebration is what I lived for: celebrations of all beliefs, birthdays, all were celebrated joyfully; my children should see only happy faces around them, enjoy music and happiness, eat well and much, “My fiery writing on the wall: Brüx.”

Robert, dear, as you have written me this dear and sweet letter, I believe that you were thinking of the same outing that Paul, you and I made from Brüx up to the Sauerbrunnen. As we passed a particular part of the marvelous row of chestnut trees, where a construction site was for sale at the time, one of us thought that we should build our family castle in the air at this place. We spun our wishful daydream further, until we came to the coffee house and lying there on a nice birch bench, we imagined everything down to the smallest detail. I remember this as clearly as if it were yesterday, and that an oncoming freight train brought us out of our day dream and forced us to think about our return trip. I glanced once more to the right to my beloved Borschen, one of them straight ahead at the church tower, whose song, “Enene, Enene” still rings in my ears today. When I take the next boat, I’ll be at the Aja Sofia in about 30 minutes and will think of the simple village church of Bilin and hear the bells chiming like the music of the spheres. Just as Wagner’s gods dreamed of their Walhalla, I dream with you of our home. The price that Vitali and I have paid does not seem too high to me. When the children left home, I did away with all birthdays and holidays, that is, I postponed them and said inwardly that we will celebrate them later. There are now so many to catch up on and with the new ones that must be celebrated, then our reunion will be one joyful celebration after another, as the magic word, my magic word rings.

I have apologized for my jumping around, but I’m not quite as crazy as I seem after this letter, but it is impossible to keep one’s thoughts straight when one shares a single room with 8 strangers and one sleeps in the same room with them, and each of the 8 receives visitors and they converse in a motley of strange languages. 

Do you know that I only found out by pure chance that Eva is married and that only just now after months at the consulate I was told the name of my son-in-law? Everl wrote a short letter to her cousin Lisette De Sevillja in May in which announced that she married on the 13th of January (Harry’s birthday), that she thinks I’m in Sweden and that Harry is still in the South Pacific. Robert that is all I know about my children. Wasn’t old Galotti right when he said, “He who does not lose his sanity in these circumstances has nothing to lose.” In my whole life I have never heard so much talking as here, and have spoken so little myself. I find it merciful to live in this Babel. I’m in the greatest company. A young Greek woman was reading her Shakespeare, a fine Oxford edition, next to her Glossary. At night I give myself concerts, I hum my Beethoven, my Mozart, my Schubert. I only here learned to understand the Wanderer Symphony: where you are not, there is happiness. Beethoven never let his audience go home in a gloomy mood; therefore, let us both sing with a different note: joy, beautiful spark of the gods -- or is it still too early. Since I’ve been here, I’ve heard no word more often than “patience,” I live with it. Robert, perhaps we will see each other before this letter reaches you.

Please greet and thank Otto and Kamilla for me, I myself kiss you with unbroken love.

Helen 


Helene begins her letter with a quotation from Dante’s Inferno, which prepares us for the sad and nostalgic tone that follows. Robert is the most emotional of her relatives, and, along with his brother Paul, they are the only people left with a connection to and memory of their childhood in Bohemia – she and her nephews’ mother grew up in Bilin, and the boys grew up in Brüx (now Most), about 8 miles away. Here, she writes of a day she spent with her nephews in Bilin, where they saw the Sauerbrunn – the mineral spring, and the Borschen – the mountain looming over the town which we read about in the April 22nd post. She hears the church bells calling her childhood nickname, Enene. However, when Helene wrote about her childhood memories in the 1950s, she had very little nostalgia for Bilin – she made it clear that she was thrilled to leave it far behind when she moved to Vienna in 1902.

We hear echoes from letters written years ago: Helene invokes the legend of Polycrates which she wrote about in a letter to her children in 1939 – see December 14th post. Eva and Helene both wrote of “castles in the air” — see April 27th and September 24th posts. She recalls the things that we have seen bring her the most comfort – poetry (Goethe and Heine - see links above) and music – perhaps the same things that helped her survive the past few years.

Although the vast majority of Helene’s and the Zerzawy brothers’ correspondence was in Harry’s possession, my mother Eva had all of the letters their mother sent from Istanbul in 1945-1946. In 2006, a friend translated this letter for me. He had trouble with some of the references and I couldn’t make sense of them either. After being immersed in my grandmother’s words and life for the past few years, her stories and references now all have meaning.

Despite the sorrow and loss of the past 6 years, Helene tries to shake off her mood and end on a lighter note to lift her and Robert’s spirits, quoting Ode to Joy from Beethoven’s 9th symphony.

December 23

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Today we have a letter from Helene’s nephew Robert Zerzawy in England to his cousins Eva and Harry in San Francisco. At this point, Helene has been in Istanbul for over six months after having been released from Ravensbrück.

23 December 1945                  Green Pastures, Bridport

Dear Eva and Harry,

I have to thank you for sending me copies of your mother’s letters from March. I hoped to have a reply from Mr. Joseph de Sevilya but so far there is no response. So I can only hope that you will have heard from Istanbul in the meantime, and that the cryptic behavior of your Turkish relations will have found a quite trivial explanation.

Hilda has somehow acquired the role of an information center on our family affairs. Through her I know in outlines about you, for instance that you, Eva, are married and you, Harry, had a victorious return home from the South Pacific with no bad effects other than a tendency to scratching your skin or something like that which by now, I hope, has ceased to trouble you. Speaking of scratching: I guess, our mutual relationship will have to be built up again from scratch too. All you remember of me is, I assume, my little car which doesn’t exist any longer. (Or one should reasonably think it died ignominiously somewhere in the Ukraine or in the Balkans. I was informed from Prague that by force of Government decree I am again the lawful owner of the vehicle provided I can trace and provided it is in a usable state.)

And what I recollect of you apart from table hockey with spoons and stencil paper balls after lunch or cacophonistic duets are Harry’s illustrated weeklies which I hope he kept up in the jungles so giving documentary evidence of their superior lawfulness as compared with the nice mess in Europe or elsewhere in so-called civilized regions.

So it may be quite entertaining to renew our acquaintance and perhaps we like each other. I for my part am looking forward to it and with this pleasant prospect I am sending you my warmest wishes for the New Year and that with Helen with us we shall be a happy family.

Robert 


After discovering all of my family letters and papers that Harry stashed away, I spent several years organizing, archiving and translating everything. Since this was a perfectly legible letter in English, somehow I never read it until I was preparing today’s post! What a treasure it is.

Robert was born in 1899. His mother – Helene’s sister Ida – died when he was just 2-1/2 years old. His step-mother/aunt died when he was 11. His aunt Helene was the nearest thing he had to a maternal figure throughout his life.

I believe Joseph de Sevilya was married to one of Vitali’s sisters. As we learned from Helene’s letters from Istanbul, during the first part of her time there Vitali’s family often visited. However, most of them had little ability to help financially and the agency supporting the prisoners kept moving them to save money on housing, making it difficult for the family to even know how to find her.

At this point, Helene and Hilda have never met – nor have Robert and Hilda. Yet, they maintained a warm correspondence. The three of them were the most emotional and sensitive members of the family, and found kindred spirits in one another.

Unlike his brother Paul, Robert hadn’t spent much time with his young cousins. He never lived in Vienna, so they only knew each other from brief visits and letters. Paul and Robert often traveled together and would reconnect on these trips. In a few lines, Robert paints a vivid picture of the noise, fun, and laughter of the Cohen household in Vienna – they knew how to make their own fun even though they had little money – making music, improvising games and entertaining each other. Sadly, only one of Harry’s illustrated weeklies survived.

In Paul’s vacation photos, he included two photos from a May 1931 trip with captions that read “Breakdown #1” and “Breakdown #2”.

I wonder if this was Robert’s car? They went to Herceg Novi and Lovcen National Park in Montenegro. I found a Youtube video of someone driving what was probably a similar route through the park.

As we saw in later letters, Robert remained in England and only saw his family in person again once or twice again in his life. I share with him the wish that they had been able to be a happy family again.

December 22

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Today we have a holiday postcard sent to Helene’s cousin Paul Zerzawy on December 23, 1938.

Although there is no written message on this card, we learn some things about Paul’s life: by late 1938, Paul has moved from Vienna to Prague. He is studying English at the English Institute there, presumably because he plans to emigrate as soon as possible. In the April 3rd post, we saw  more information about Paul’s residence in Prague and his efforts to find the resources to leave Europe.

December 21

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Today we have an early letter from Helene in Vienna to her children in San Francisco – 18-year old Eva and 15-year old Harry.

Clipper letter No. 8, 21st December 1939

I-A-Eva!
Hi-Ha-Harry!

Two months ago today — it’s been exactly 9 weeks since you arrived in Frisco and I can only imagine your impressions of the new world, because no news from you has reached us. For heaven’s sake, not all the ships that might have brought your letters can have sunk. Have you written us by air letter? I don’t understand why other people are getting post. I hope you will get the letter from Olga pretty soon and that you will answer please.

Nothing has happened to us, and my head is doing its best to entertain you, but it’s not working today. You probably don't care very much about letters – you have new experiences every day simply because the way of life there is quite different from ours – quite apart from the current situation. I hope one day to find all about all these differences and how you feel about them when the post is working better. For now, this waste of time waiting around is bothering me, and as much as I’d like to do it, I can’t write to all my loved ones because I would have to use a dictionary for every word, so unfamiliar to me is any kind of intellectual activity right now. Please, excuses to all. A letter from you would really awaken my lust for living and give me the ability to express my feelings and thoughts again

Today I’ll leave you with this letter, which was only intended as a sign of life, and my current reluctance to write will soon turn into the opposite again.

With countless greetings and kisses to you and all the loved ones, I am your mother.

Helene


Helene begins this letter to her children by playing with the vowel sounds of the first syllables of their names. In yesterday’s post, we saw a letter she wrote to Hilda — written a year later than this one — where she parodied a popular children’s Christmas song. I wonder whether she was humming it as she wrote today’s letter? And perhaps subtly invoking the tune in her children’s minds as she began the letter.

Although we can’t read the first impressions they sent their parents, we have the letter Eva wrote to their cousin Paul Zerzawy who met their ship in New York in October and put them safely on the train to San Francisco.

December 20

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In yesterday’s post, we saw a gift that Helene’s cousin Hilda gave to Harry in 1944. Today, in addition to a birthday letter from Helene to her son Harry, we have her birthday “gift” to Hilda sent 24 years earlier. 

Clipper #64

Vienna, 20, December 1940

My most beloved little Harry boy!

Your birthday coming up is the second which you have no longer been able to celebrate with us and because of that, you haven’t had to put up with me breaking into hugs and kisses and such. But you’re not protected from the fact that you’re going to get a tirade of words sent to you. I have developed a special practice for the 13th of January. On this day and considering also the 10 hour time difference, I am not going to speak to anybody outside the family except the mailman. My thoughts will be like projectiles being sent to you, and even if you don’t get all of them I bet some of them will reach you. What do time and place mean to people who are used to living in the 4th dimension? The first birthday wish will be from me and will go to school with you, unless this day is perhaps an American national holiday and therefore you don’t have school. I will be there at the table at your birthday party and I will be happy with you that you exist in this world. You have every reason to be happy. The whole world is open to you. For the time being it’s actually quite nice to live in this world, especially when you are 17 years old. The downward spiral doesn’t start until a whole lot later. It would be precocious of me to speak about that because I personally still feel quite far away from it and Papa thinks much the same way as I do, or I think like he does, which is the same thing. Days like the 13th of January or the 5th of May [Eva’s birthday] are milestones which are worth hanging around and enjoying for a while. If you look back in the past on these days, the future looks quite rosy and you think maybe that you will get over the lost present time.

This winter is quite strict and is teaching us that black diamonds are as useful to the human being as white diamonds. A month ago, we thought there would be an end to the winter, just like the summer. Unfortunately, winter has a better memory or it’s more attuned to its duties. Be that as it may, it’s there and I find it pretty unpleasant myself. I find runny noses, even when they’re frozen, quite unaesthetic and men whose beards have turned into stalactites are very unpleasant to me, even more so than the mountain sprites of my childhood. In the winter months in your absence, I turn into a harem housewife. Papa brings me everything as much as he can get and brings it home to me. The wish to go for a walk at this time of year has never been that strong to me and I really don’t have other interests which might justify going outside. The best place for me to think about you without being disturbed is home and I can spend hours and hours at that, many more than you would ever think. When Papa goes out about 3pm and gets home about 6 I greet him with “oh, there you are again” because usually either I am sitting at the typewriter and writing to you or I’m reading your letters again in order to know what you did last year at about this time. Time goes by so fast when I do this that the day is over in the twinkling of an eye but then it’s always a long time for me to be waiting for the mail to show up.

The type of attention I like to pay to various people I try to take care of before the holidays are over so that I have the sense of holidays but not so much of Christmas. I will let the Lord God give me credit for those I did not get to celebrate and I will celebrate someday all the birthdays and holidays that I did not get to celebrate with you as long as heaven allows this to happen for me. Those will be months and months of delight, the likes of which you’ve never seen.

For today my dear Ha-He-Hi-Ho Hu-Harry kisses and I wish you so much joy, as much as your sweet little feet can even carry. Think on your birthday about us and keep us in your thoughts and love.

I am hugging you.
Helen

I’m going to write to Everl separately on Tuesday and I send her a thousand kisses.


Vienna, 20. Dec. 1940

[In English:]

Dear Hilda!

I remember once you wrote to Harry that your birthday is either 12 or 13 January too. Therefore, accept my best wishes for that. Spend this day especially gay and happy and not a sad thought may disturb your pleasure. Enjoy your life as profoundly as you can. It is a pity for every day you don’t do it. I hope you have a good temperament and laughing is easier for you than weeping. Unable to give you a little birthday gift, I give you the second musical lesson (Melody Harry will instruct you) in German.

[In German - sayings to help the German learner learn certain sounds:]

A a a
Winter is here.
I can’t hear or see.
Winter has begun.
A a a

Winter is here.

E e e
I drink hot tea.
I drink it morning, noon, and night.
But I don’t have any sugar.
E e e
I drink hot tea.

I i i
What kind of a beast am I!
Coughing, flu, and influenza,
I cannot throw them out the window. [rhyming Influenza/Fensta]
I i i
What kind of a beast am I!

O o o
How raw is Vitali [‘s throat]!
He’s taking quinine and aspirin,
but otherwise you will go.
O o o
How raw is Vitali!

U u u
I am wearing lined shoes.
Having a slim ankle, what does that matter today?
It’s only an obsession for plutocratic people.
U u u
I wear
such big shoes.

Au au au [Ow, ow, ow]
I can hardly see out of my eyes.
Vitali is coughing and is hoarse,
but I just can’t continue
Au au au
I can hardly see out of my eyes.

Ei ei ei
That too will be over soon.
Who will save this brain from bacteria?
You think to yourself, for God’s sake.
Ei ei ei
That too will be over soon.  

Eu eu eu
Oh, how happy I am about winter!
Beards become stalactites.
With Aryans, as well as with Semites.
Eu eu eu.
I am so happy about the winter! 

This is for you for your birthday and I know it’s rather cynical. But still, my wishes are sincere and I mean them well.

[In English:]

Excuse me.

I suppose that my letter comes with lateness and your birthday party will not be disturbed by the crazy letter of a crazy cousin. Don’t be angry and it’s better you are learning German by Paul.

Wishing you all, what Heaven has to give on joy and happiness, I remain heartiest as ever

Your affectionate
Helen


Helene’s letters include variations on the same theme. In both, Helene makes us appreciate what a cold and miserable winter it is – to Harry she is direct and to Hilda she puts it into her own lyrics to a traditional children’s song. She plays with vowel sounds with the children’s song to Hilda, and by playing with Harry’s name at the end of the letter.

She added a few verses including less pleasant sounds of her own.

I found a website with the original lyrics of this Christmas song. It begins:

A, a, a, der Winter der ist da.
Herbst und Sommer sind vergangen,
Winter, der hat angefangen,
A, a, a, der Winter der ist da….

The translation of the entire song using Google translate:

A, a, a, the winter is here.
Autumn and summer have passed
Winter has started
A, a, a, the winter is here.

E, e, e, now there is ice and snow.
Flowers bloom on window panes
Are nowhere else to be found
E, e, e, now there is ice and snow.

I, i, i, never forget the poor man.
Often has nothing to cover up
If now frost and cold frighten him.
 I, i, i, never forget the poor man.

O, o, o, how happy we children are.
When we are joking and laughing
Make a great snowman
O, o, o, how happy we children are.  

U, u, u, I already know what I'm doing.
My dear parents love
Do not offend you, do not grieve you,
U, u, u, I already know what I'm doing.

O, o, o, how happy we children are.
When the Christ Child does something,
And 'from heaven high' they sing.
O, o, o, how happy we children are.

U, u, u, I already know what I'm doing.
Love Christ Child, praise Christ Child,
With the many angels above.
U, u, u, I already know what I'm doing.

A, a, a, autumn is here again.
The sweet grapes are now yellow,
The green arbors are now brown,
A, a, a, autumn is here again.

The song was written by Hoffmann von Fallersleben (1798-1874) and would have been a fun way for young children to practice vowel sounds. It was written before Helene was born in 1886 -- both she and her own children would have learned it.

December 19

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Today’s post is something different — a gift from Helene’s cousin Hilda to Harry.

For much of December, we’ve seen letters and cards acknowledging the holiday season. Like many Jews in Europe, Helene and her family were secular Jews, celebrating a nonreligious version of Christmas that included gift giving, family gatherings, food, and festivity. As I mentioned in the post on Harry’s birthday, our family has our own version of such celebrations today with our “Family Unification Rituals” - “Furry” Events, a term coined by Harry’s wife.

The gift of this biography of Mahler is a perfect snapshot of a family that loved classical music and being together. Hilda’s inscription says:

San Francisco, Calif
Dec. 19, 1944

No merry Christmas!
No happy New Year!
No happy Birthday!
No anything!

Hilda

Hilda and Harry’s birthdays were a day apart (some of Hilda’s vital records show them having the same birthdate). In her inscription, Hilda acknowledges that they don’t officially celebrate anything – holidays, birthdays, etc. And yet they did! In the December 16th post, at the time Hilda was sending this book, Harry was asking Eva to send her a birthday bouquet on his behalf. 

As with many things that my family kept, this book has more meaning than it might seem at first glance. The San Francisco Chronicle has many articles and advertisements about Bruno Walter being a guest conductor with the San Francisco Symphony. Hilda was married to Nathan Firestone, who was a violist in the San Francisco Symphony. I would guess that Hilda, and perhaps Harry, had met Walter. They certainly would have seen him conduct. Although I could not find a video of him in action, I found a video of Mahler’s 5th Symphony conducted by Walter which shows photos of him and of Mahler. According to Wikipedia, like Eva and Harry, he came to the United States in late 1939 to escape Nazi persecution. In the 1930s, he regularly conducted the Vienna Philharmonic and Vienna State Opera, so they would have seen him before coming to the U.S.  

December 18

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Today we see two documents from Helene’s nephew Paul Zerzawy’s time after World War I. His university studies had been interrupted by World War I. In the October 16th post, we saw documents from his undergraduate degree. Today, we see the diploma for his law degree from Vienna State University in December of 1920:

Latin translation from Google Translate:

We are the director of the Vienna State University

Alphonsus Dopsch, a professor of philosophy and a professor of public history. John Kelsen, professor of law, professor of law and political affairs, regular politician, ht. dean of the order of lawyers; Charles Gruunberg, a professor of law, professor of law and political affairs, a regular politician, a duly appointed promoter, and a distinguished man

Paulum Zerzawy
(from Bilin in Bohemia)

After legitimate examinations proved that the doctrine of law is commendable in the whole of law, we have conferred the rights and privileges of law and the honors and privileges on the faith of the university, and we have taken care that these letters be signed by the seal of the university.

Vienna, December 24, 1920


While Helene’s son Harry had most of Paul Zerzawy’s photos and letters, her daughter Eva had all his official papers. The following document was amongst his transcripts and diplomas, so I was certain that this was another degree or certificate. However, as I was preparing today’s post, I discovered that it isn’t education-related at all — my friend and translator quickly reviewed and we discovered that Paul had won a chess tournament! Yet again, my lack of German led me down the wrong path. Alland is about 12 miles southwest of Vienna.

Herewith is announced that Dr. Paul Zerzawy won the First Prize and achieved the Championship Title in the Second Alland Chess Competition (September 4-18, 1922).

Alland, December 19, 1922.

The committee (signatures and stamp)

December 17

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Today we have the letter Helene’s nephew soldier Paul Zerzawy wrote to his family in Brüx, Bohemia which he promised in the December 15th post.

#10

Fieldpost 211, 14. December 1917 (finished 17. December 1917)

My dear ones!

The good news from our front here, which you must have heard with joy, has probably also reassured you that the pause in my letter writing did not signify anything bad. As I told you already by postcard, I was once again very busy and didn’t have much time or space to write. That is still true, as you can see from what I am going to describe to you.

Therefore, it is very convenient for me that when this letter arrives in Brüx, it will find all of you together, my dear ones. This way it will be easier for me to do justice to your wishes for more detail.

I will be so badly behaved and start talking about myself right away – it’s more convenient for me.

Since the 30th I have more or less told you the most important thing: that I have been ordered to join the machine gun company. I was not very happy about that. I had the most beautiful life imaginable. The Russians have almost never fired guns, the Romanians very rarely, and even before the armistice, total calm was almost a matter of course. Until then, the outpost position was the only somewhat dangerous place because of artillery and mines, but now it was used for recreation. One had good food, warm shelter, little duty, saw some interesting things; whereas in Keseren one had to build all roads and positions, often in the middle of the night.

The Russians on the other side of the Seretz came very freely down to the riverside, and heard speeches and conversations which unfortunately we could not understand. During one such episode, someone (an officer candidate) shot at a neighboring outpost. He was dragged to the river bank and they beat him black and blue in front of our eyes. Discipline must be maintained!

During the night of the 30th, we saw that the people across the river firing an enormous amount of lightning ammunition: they celebrated the truce with fireworks and music. We didn’t hear about it until the next day and it only applied partially to our location. I would have loved to have spent the next few days in position with the company, but then came my orders.

I already wrote that in Keseren, I had a nice shack (which we had to fix up first) with electric light and almost entire windows and doors, as well as officers’ food, privileges, and my own orderly.

Anyway, I already knew about the announcement of the armistice here in B., positioned about an hour and a half behind the first line.

In six weeks, I am supposed to learn perfectly about a new weapon, in all its details, starting from the service of the lowest soldier up to the leadership of the machine gun company. Accordingly, my hours of duty are 6:30- 11; 2-5, 6-7. Partly lessons, partly the equipment, partly shooting. In all weather. For example, now there is bitter cold. Our winter equipment is spotless. Until the day before yesterday I had a bad room – especially because of a lack of light and wood for heating. The last is a very bad thing on our otherwise ideal front. Here there are no forests, the trees in the widely disbursed villages have to be left standing because they offer the only natural hiding places in this lowland, which is covered with grass and flat as a table. The only means of acquiring wood is euphemistically called “comandeering.” Since the day before yesterday, I have been living with 4 other officer candidates, which is a little better.

Hauptman Hladik is an active commander — not evil, but unrelenting.

Especially we who are platoon commanders-to-be are being challenged and must work very hard. Strict discipline, like in peacetime. My inspector is a deputy officer, a nice person. The food is – despite poor conditions and compared to the food with the Landsturm -- plentiful.

In the above, I gave a truthful description, but I don’t mean to say that I am badly off. I have settled in quickly, am healthy, and quite content.

Because: first of all, later I have the prospect of becoming a platoon commander in a machine gun formation, and to enjoy all the benefits granted to this kind of weapon.

Second, there is the need to study (we have also text books and specialist magazines here, even technical literature!) and the shaking up of my brain, which comes with that studying has been good for my brainbox which has been idling for too long. (By the way, a very interesting course of study)

Third, I have good comrades with whom to socialize. We 5 cadets that I already mentioned (1 Neuner – [perhaps also from Landsturm #9], 1 Viennese, 2 Trieste, and myself) are all of the same age, musically inclined, similar interests – we couldn’t have done better.

It’s a shame that it only lasts 4-5 weeks, because in the former Landsturm environment, despite its coziness and lack of adventure, in general people were too old for me. Now we have fun and we amuse ourselves with the civilian population (here there are some, but poor and downtrodden). If we have enough time, sometimes we have a few bottles of wine brought to us -- it is pretty good and cheap here -- and we have the gypsies play something. It is real carefree camp life!

At Christmas I must stay here! So, I cannot fulfill the wishes you have often voiced to be at home with all of you! My time will come in 4, 5, or 6 months. As much as I can, I will spend the holidays (we will not have much free time anyway) with the comrades who all complain that nowadays they are not receiving the same kind of shipments from their homeland as in former years, when it was a better situation back home.

As you may know, Romania is a fairytale land from which you can easily send packages, flour and all other kinds of groceries to Austria. In the past, as a company the field troops were sent directly flour, peas, etc. Now these rations have been so much diminished that I cannot count on being given anything in the near future. A second way is the buying of military central food supplies for officers. I have already gone there and spoken in our central food depot (Landsturm #9) and with a lot of effort I have been promised a little bit of flour and peas. But unfortunately, I was called away before.

The third way: shopping with civilians. Here there is not much to be had. I want to see if I can bargain for a few things, when the direct purchasing and appropriation officers go further into the interior. It is also difficult to get boxes and flour sacks. Then also (hopefully only temporary) the barring of “packages to home.” I’m deliberately not asking for money for this purpose, because there I don’t want to take on a promise which I can’t keep. If I am really hard up, I can always borrow something. My own needs until now have been met with my pay. Of the money that I took with me from Leitmeritz, there remains for me after equipment, buying gloves, lightning articles, a small amount which most likely will be spent for our Christmas celebration.

This is all that I have to say about myself. Therefore, I will now answer each of your letters and cards:

Dear Papa!

The letter of the 28th of November, which was forwarded to me from Landsturm #9, made me especially happy because of the news of Erich’s promotion [?]. Hopefully, he will soon move into officer’s quarters and the days of his suffering soon will be over, should he still be in Russia.

I just don’t wish him to have to stick his nose in another time!

It also could happen to me on another front. Well, I expect everything with calm and confidence – in the end, the war will be over! The lack of newspapers, especially local ones, is really noticeable here – I learn about the news of the day too late. As far as money is concerned, I would be very grateful if you would send me a small money reserve. It is not necessary because I do not require more than I get paid, but I had many expenses in Morganda and on the trip, so that most of the money I received in August from Robert, meaning from you, has been used up. I am very happy to hear that you are doing well as far as your service is concerned. Spend the vacation -- which according to others’ letters you will probably get – pleasantly, and please send me a few lines from there!

—-

Dear Robert!

One after another of your letters has arrived. Also, the one address addressed to FP 211 with a card from Erich, the last from December 8th. Many thanks for your detailed report!

Please give my greetings to all friends who ask about me. For example, Lido (is his address still FP 461/1?), Robert Ullman. I also ask you to write to Erich for me – I cannot write to him directly. I will soon send a letter to you to be passed on to him, thus far I haven’t been able to. If you want to send me something in a Fieldpost package, I ask for (depending on availability) candles, cigarettes (better in a letter), a (yellow) cadet collar rosette, stationery (the same quality as this). Of course, it doesn’t have to be. Do you have new photos or drawings which you could send me? How about your law and language studies? Write always what you are doing and how things are going. I enjoy every letter and am only sorry that I can’t answer as often as I would like.

—-

To my dear Käthe: I thank you for your many cards, you will find all your questions answered in the first part of this letter. I expect from your conversation with Papa, the final resolution of the difficult question, Srachatitz [?] or not? Unfortunately, I cannot picture how it has been going for you since that first unpleasant time, because the first detailed letters were missing and the cards were silent concerning the most important issue. Maybe we will catch up?

The fact that dear Grandmother insists on writing long letters to me is proof that she thinks and worries about me more than I deserve.  I have confirmed your letter to Morganda, haven’t I? Did the answer not arrive?

 —-

Dear Helen!

You too will be in Brüx when these lines arrive and I hope you will find everyone healthy. I thought that you had fallen ill when you moved, but then came your letter of the 10th and two packages with 4 [lottery tickets? Treats?] The gloves have not yet arrived. My dearest gratitude for these things! Only after I sent you my requests did I realize how difficult it is to get these things. This comes about because of the ignorance which is common in the field about the difficult conditions back home! We just say: send it! I hope that at least the money got there?!

—-

I wish all of you a happy vacation and holidays. I don’t have to tell you how much I would love to be there.

During this time, think of me, Your son, brother, etc.

Paul


This is the longest letter I have from Paul. It is the only one on which he numbered the pages, which was very helpful as we tried to figure out the order of other letters that had not been kept in proper order. The writing convention at the time was to start with a single sheet of paper, fold it in half, begin writing on the right-hand side, turn the page over and write on each half, and then return to the front page and finish writing on the left-hand side, for a total of 4 “pages”. That was easy enough to decipher if the letter was a single sheet, but when the letter went on to several sheets of paper and was in old German script, it was impossible for my archivist and I to determine the order of the pages when we were first organizing the letters. In the case of today’s letter, Paul completed 4 sheets of paper as described, and finished writing on a smaller, lined piece of paper front and back:

Paul corroborates the information I’ve read about the Landsturm regiments – that they generally consisted of older men and were less likely to see action. For some reason, Paul spent most of the war in such a unit. The timing of Paul’s reassignment to a machine gun regiment was fortuitous. This Wikipedia entry describes the ceasefires and subsequent armistice between Russia and the Central Powers (Austro-Hungarian Empire, Bulgaria, Germany, Ottoman Empire).

Although I don’t quite understand what Paul said about his brother Erich, who is at this point in a Russian POW camp in Siberia, he certainly hopes that Erich’s life might now be easier with the armistice, and perhaps he will be released. The fear remains that upon returning home, Erich could be sent to serve a different unit.

Paul is already thinking about how to provide flour for his family – as we saw in earlier posts, in Fall 1918, he will send many kilos home to provide them with sustenance in the lean times to come. 

It is interesting to read this letter the day after we saw a letter from Paul’s cousin Harry more than 25 years later – they both talk about studying technical material and how it helps to keep their minds sharp in the midst of what is often a boring existence.

We saw this 1921 self-portrait by Robert in the June 30th post:

There is so much more to say about this letter, yet it speaks for itself. I love thinking about my grandmother and the rest of the family passing Paul’s letter from person to person and reveling in every detail – almost as if he is there with them.

December 16

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Today we see two letters written on the same day from G.I. Harry Lowell in New Guinea to his sister Eva in San Francisco – one “business,” and the other personal.

New Guinea
December 16, 1944

Dear Eva,

Please have some nice flowers sent to Tillie and Hilda on their birthdays, January 11th and 12th, and be sure to have the cards sent with them.

Enclosed you’ll find a money order and the cards.

If ten dollars aren’t sufficient for two pretty bouquets, please lay out whatever the difference is and I’ll reimburse you by next mail.

Thank you!

Love,
Harry.

P.S. Please advise me of Bertha’s birthday in your next letter. I think it is in September.


New Guinea
December 16, 1944

Dear Eva,

Today is one of those days on which I get the urge to write a lot of letters. If anything exciting were happening here I would be able to write more letters. As I live a rather colorless life, however, I can put in my letters nothing more interesting than gripes, pipe dreams, weather conditions, etc. I do hope this latest apology for my rare letters sounds plausible to you.

I received your air mail letter of November 18, and after reading it, came to the conclusion that your handwriting is getting to the point of illegibility – (not that I have any room to talk). I suggest that we found a society or club that’ll carry on the custom of cryptic correspondence. You, Hilda, and myself will be the originators of said club; shall we call the club “Knights of the Dainty Pen”? (Any suggestions for an appropriate name are welcome.)

Now that I am through insulting, I’ll turn to the news; I’ll leave a little space below in the event something interesting happens while I write this letter:

You see, my letters are bound to be uninteresting. I finally decided to enroll in the Armed Forces Institute and am taking a correspondence course at present. There are about sixty or so courses available and I plan to fill the time between now and the end of the war with going through all those courses (It’s a long war!)

The course I am working on now appealed to me at the time of course selection; I thought the subject would be very interesting and educational and furthermore the title of the course suggested the course to be more or less a snap. It’s “Waterworks and Sewage Plant Operation.” (Sounds simple, doesn’t it?) Well, the course includes: Principles of Mechanics, Hydromechanics, Pneumatics, Chemistry, Sanitary Chemistry, Sanitary Bacteriology, etc. After completion of that course I should make an expert “Latrine Orderly,” don’t you think?

I can see it now – right next to such trademark slogans as: Body by Fisher, Fixtures by Westinghouse, Design by Schiaparelli, etc., will be my trademark, outstanding in reputation: “Superior Latrines by Lowell!” (Thank you.)

One of the other reasons for my becoming so studious all of a sudden is that I want to get used to a good system of studying which will be most important to me after the war. In view of the strenuous program in my postwar plans, my system of studying must be a fast and efficient one, so that I can get enough sleep during this “Spartan existence.” In case I did not tell you, I plan to attend the Davis Agricultural University. I hope Hap Williams [?] of the Triangle Produce Co. can use a good man for night work; it would be a nice setting, indeed, because the University is about half an hour’s drive from Sacramento. I would appreciate any suggestions and comments that you have in reference to my plans. As far as dissuading me from my intentions, there is no use doing so.

As Lt. Col. Good, my commanding officer, would say: “This is the way it’s got to be, there ain’t no other way!” (unquote) (Ain’t I the one, though?)

“Knowest Thou the Land where the Coconuts grow…..? I have been here for almost a year and it’s been nine months since I ate a coconut. I bet there are a lot of people in this world who would like to have some coconuts and cannot get them. On the other hand there are very many people over here that would like to get some fresh milk and can’t get it. Probably some dairy strikers in L.A. are pouring hundreds of gallons of milk out on the streets; but most probably all surplus milk is being dehydrated – and that doesn’t do us any good, does it?

(How did this last paragraph get into this letter, anyhow?)

I am enclosing negatives of three snapshots; get enough prints made to distribute. I would appreciate your sending me two prints of each. I hope you haven’t forgotten to heed my request for 6-20 films. (Modest, that’s me!)

That’s quite a solution you have arrived at in regards to staying away from the Army Nurse Corps; rather dramatic, isn’t it? However, I am glad you are heeding my advice. (But don’t resort to that drastic measure you mentioned if you can help it, ha, ha!)

I saw the picture “Dragonseed” the other day and I thought it was very good, indeed. I also saw another pretty good picture, “Saratoga Trunk.” How was the performance of “The Merry Widow” this last time? What have you been doing in regards to diversion lately? How was the opera season?

How is Paul? Let me know what he has to say about my postwar plans.

Well, that’s all for today, sister. Give my kindest regards to all.

I remain your loving brother,
Harry

P.S. I hope you have a nice Christmas.


In this letter we see that Harry missed his calling — he should have gone into advertising! In addition to information about Fisher in the link above, there is a PBS documentary called Body by Fisher.

Soldiers seem to have had access to the latest movies. Dragon Seed came out in 1944, and according to IMDB, Saratoga Trunk came out in 1945, the year after this letter was written.

In addition to the references to popular culture, Harry throws in a take-off on a quote by Goethe from Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship: “Knowest Thou the Land where the lemon trees bloom…” which he will quote again in a letter almost a year later (see October 13th post).

Perhaps the “drastic measure” Harry refers to is that his sister will be getting married in January 1945.

In the letter we saw in the October 27th post, Harry wrote about his post-war plan to lead a “Spartan existence” as he earned a college degree. He did not mention the idea of studying agriculture at Davis or to go back to the Triangle Produce Co., where he had worked in summers and after high school graduation before joining the army. I always had the sense from Harry that he had no desire to have anything to do with his California relatives’ business. However, at this time, he and his sister were considering all possibilities of making a good living so they would be able to bring their parents to the United States after the war, and to support them once they arrived.

December 15

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Today we have a postcard from Helene’s nephew -- soldier Paul Zerzawy – addressed to his brother Robert Zerzawy in Brüx, Bohemia.                                   

Fieldpost 211, 14. December 1917

Dear Grandmother, dear Robert, dear Käthe!

My letter, which describes all my recent experiences in great detail, is almost ready. This letter will be sent as a circular letter. I hope that you all will be sitting around the Christmas table when it is due to arrive in Brüx, so that the letter will not have to be passed on to Przemyśl and Vienna. Käthe’s cards of November 19, December 5 and 9 have followed me and I received them today. I am healthy.

Kisses,
Paul


Paul is quite playful in addressing the card, calling himself a cadet in waiting and his brother Robert “Mr. Lawyer.” We will see the promised letter to everyone in the December 17th post. He calls it a “circular letter” – something that should be distributed to multiple recipients. Paul gives us a warm and happy image of the family together for a holiday meal.  His father was stationed in Przemyśl and his aunt Helene was in Vienna.

December 14

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Helene in Vienna writing to her children, recent arrivals in San Francisco:

Vienna, 14 December 1939

My little sweeties who aren’t assigned to a particular district!

A nag that clops along in a Clipper letter, folds the ribbon and deserves a rap on the fingers - that’s your mother. I have decided to fight on and bombard you with letters until I get an answer. I don't expect any answers at all, because I haven't asked you any questions, expecting that when I receive something, the questions will no longer apply. You know, I am interested in everything that concerns you and every one of our loved ones. I got a saltwater fish yesterday and took a good look at it to see if, like Polycrates, I could find instead of a ring, a letter from you there. But there was nothing like that. Besides the normal innards, he was mostly fish bones. We ate it anyway, but at least we had something to eat. I would be glad to tell you interesting things, but unfortunately nothing happens in my seclusion that is worth writing about. I see a lot of people who are not there, and even if one or the other might have written to us, I have not yet received any mail. Papa had to pay a fine of 220 [little marks] which we’ve taken out of our travel account. Our friends in Ankara haven’t been in a big hurry to deal with our case, but that doesn’t matter. We have found people interested in buying our piano, but it’s too big for some. The price was not the problem because we are willing to sell it for 1mark/cm – 235marks. Even our bedroom might have some takers but we want to wait till we no longer need it. If it were the summer, I’d have given it up, but winter has no mercy.

Our little neighbor Ludwig visited me yesterday with his mother. Since his mother wanted to chat with me, I gave him a couple of chess pieces to play from the set you left here. After a while he thoughtfully shook his said and said “this is a funny chess game – there’s no white horses and no board to jump around on.”

There’s plenty of room to jump around, but for some reason I don’t feel like it. Maybe I’ll do it when there’s a letter from you. Our kitchen has once again costumed itself as a fairy palace and the walls are sparkling for Christmas. I ignore the splendor because I’d rather go in to our less romantic, but warmer, living room. This is all the easier as I have thoroughly weaned our stomachs from their frivolous exotic cravings. Our stomachs are used to not getting such goodies anymore. Papa has a sour grapes philosophy – “We eat too much anyway!” Maybe he’s right, but it sure would be nice to have something.

Now its noon and I have to get dressed quickly and go into the kitchen. In the case of “Tschindern” – Paul will explain this word to you -- I might even win first place in the Olympics. Also, tell him that I’m upset that I can’t even come up with or make any “cheap” presents for anyone this year.

That's enough nonsense for today. Say hello to everybody. I’m mentally bankrupt which prevents me from writing directly to them very often.

I’m kind of crazy about writing, but I send you an untold number of kisses,

Mutti
Helene


Like so often, Helene throws in references that would have meant something to her children, little jokes and wordplay. In the second sentence of the letter, she uses 4 words that sound like “Clipper” when writing about her frustration at not receiving mail - it definitely gets lost in translation! (“Ein Klepper, der in einemfort Clipper-Briefe klappert, das Farbband einkluppt und auf die Finger geklopped verdient, das ist euere Mutter.”) A description of Clipper letters can be found at an earlier post. She likens her desire for letters to the legend of Polycrates.

She uses the word Tschindern, from the Austrian dialect, knowing that her nephew Paul was nearby to translate, bringing him in on the joke. Unfortunately, we don’t have him handy now and I was unable to find a translation.

We see the evolution of Helene’s signature when she writes to her children. In the first few letters from 1939, she signs herself Mutti, which translates to Mom or Mommy. In this letter, she adds her name, Helene. In later letters, she simply signs her name Helen – perhaps acknowledging how mature and distant her children have become, as well as her intention to become an American herself and therefore calling herself by a less European version of her first name.

December 13

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Today we have a letter from Helene in Vienna to Hilda Firestone in San Francisco. Harry has lived with Hilda and her husband Nathan since arriving in San Francisco in October 1939. Since they do not share a common language, Helene writes in her halting English, interspersing some German (indicated in italics). Helene’s nephew Paul Zerzawy was also in San Francisco and would have been able to translate the German. I admire Helene’s courage to write in a foreign language – even after years of studying French, I was always reluctant to expose my lack of fluency.

Vienna, December 13, 1940

Dear Hilda!

Generally I don’t like winter in spite of snow-romantic, winter-sport and carnival-revel, for all that, years ago, I waited for Xmas with palpitation of the heart. There were the little things with which we could give so much pleasure. Today it is quite another thing. There are no children (own) and no relatives, but only a few friends to find a little surprise for them and therefore I hate this time. Nevertheless, I hope that you will spend Christmas in funny society, gay and cheerful and wish you and Nathan a happy New Year.

Harry wrote me that you make great progress in the study of German. I am quite enthusiastic. I will not trespass on Paul, but I find it is easier to learn a foreign language with background music, for instance: 

Viennese expression: don’t push me. German: don’t spill tea on me. Fluency, I beg your pardon, volubility you can reach by reading of the following sentences: [tongue twisters] “We Viennese washerwomen would wash the soft white wash if we knew where warm soft water was.” Or: “Fritz Fischer fishes for fresh fish early in the morning when it’s fresh” [a famous tongue twister, embellishing the original]: “ The cow ran until she fell.” is an easy one, much shorter. Also, [a pun on eel & lox]. AndPotsdam & Cottbus postal carriage is polished with postal carriage wax.” [riffing on another famous tongue twister] Your teacher will have already taught you this.

Now I’m done, but I’m afraid of Paul because he may forbid you to correspond with me in the interest of your making progress in learning German. Excuse me when I wrote such gibberish. It smells bad and I am afraid it is our dinner. 

Yes, it was. Poor Vitali!

With my best regards to Nathan and you I remain fondly

Helen

P.S. Just now Vitali came home. He caught a cold. Therefore he has no idea that our dinner is black-colored. He sends his best greetings.


After delving into my family letters this year, I have gained a deep appreciation and affection for these relatives who were shadowy names to me all my life. I so wish I had known the Zerzawy brothers. Hilda too. Although they would not meet until 1946, Helene was grateful to that her beloved son Harry was safe in the care of her cousin Hilda (technically her first cousin once removed – the daughter of her first cousin). Even living oceans apart, Helene always tried to stay connected to her family, most of whom she never would meet. We saw a letter in the February 23rd post where Hilda recalls a fond childhood memory of receiving a book of German folk songs from Helene, which would probably have been sent around 1910.  

Even in her broken English, Helene gives us a vivid picture of her anticipation of the holiday season when the family was all together. Despite the separation and her lack of resources, she tries to mark the season with her friends.

The original tongue twisters Helene uses can be found at this link and can be heard spoken by a native German speaker here.

December 12

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Today we have a postcard from 18-year old Erich Zerzawy, a POW in Eastern Siberia, to his siblings in Brüx, Bohemia. Although the year is illegible, it must be December of 1916, because later letters from Siberia were sent on Red Cross cards.

12 December 1916

My dear ones!

Although I haven’t gotten anything from you until now that brings me news of you, I do hope that everyone is fine at home. I hope Robert won’t leave home soon which is what one generally believes here. You or dear Papa have probably already sent me some money. If not, he will take care of it. Send packages well packed — smoking materials, small useful objects, books, etc. It’s best to send this as a Field Post package of 35dkg. It takes about 4 weeks. I hope now to hear from you soon, maybe for the New Years. Stay healthy,

Erich


In the July 14th post, we saw a letter from Erich before he was captured, so he has been a prisoner for less than six months.  His father and his brother Paul is a soldier; his brother Robert was now 17 years old and eligible to be drafted into the military. Erich sounds lonely and forlorn as the holidays approach: he has not yet received letters or care packages from home. How happy he must have been when the first letters arrived!

December 11

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Today we see two letters from 1958 between Helene and her attorney Paul A Eisler. The letters were found together and they were translated on the same day. I imagined Helene’s December letter would be a reply to Eisler’s September one. As is so often the case, my lack of German led me to jump to the wrong conclusion.

The letterhead reminds us how addresses and phone numbers changed over the years. Rather than a zip code, the area of San Francisco is indicated by the number 4. The letterhead uses the old phone number convention – “YUkon” to indicate the first two digits of the telephone number, instead of numbers 98. When I was a child, we still used the names. It was easier to remember a word/2-letter prefix plus 5 numbers than 7 numbers. I suppose the convention fell out of favor when we began to use area codes more often.

September 2, 1958

Subject: HILFSFONDS

My dear lady,

We are very happy to be able to tell you that quite soon the amount of 20,000. Schillings as a payment will reach you. You will probably receive the money in September and we ask you right after that to send to us the equivalent of 2,066.10 Schillings, which is the honorarium for our Viennese lawyer. As you already know, we here do not take any honorarium for allowances from the aid fund.

At the same time, we would ask that you make an appointment by telephone with our office since we will need your signature for any possible future allocations. This needs to happen as soon as possible, because the period designated for this to happen is going to end on the 10th of this month. 

Greetings,
Paul A. Eisler

“Hilfsfonds” is the generic term for relief fund – during COVID Austria provided “Corona Hilfsfonds”. Here, it refers to the Fund for the Settlement of Certain Property Losses of Political Persecutees (see page 23 and forward of the document in the link). The purpose of the fund was to make “lumpsum awards to natural persons who were the owners of properties, legal rights or interests in Austria which … were the subject of forced transfer or measures of confiscation on account of the racial origin or religion of the owner or in the course of other National Socialist persecution of the owner…”  The awards were for confiscated bank accounts, securities, money, mortgages, and “payment of discriminatory taxes”.

According to an inflation calculator, $700 in 1958 is worth about $6,400 in 2021.


San Francisco, Dec 9. 1958

Dear Dr. Eisler!

I just can’t help express to you how impressed I am that you put on such a successful evening. It was a great success indeed. My guests (paying guests of course) were enthusiastic, especially my young daughter-in-law -- 100% American – she sang with gusto and with an incomparable American accent, only part of Viennese songs. We had a splendid time. I most sincerely thank you for the lovely evening. Your talent, improvising and propagating the feeling of a Viennese Heuriger is really quite astounding. It must be something you inherited. Attorney and impresario also. 

With my best greetings


As I mentioned above, the content of this letter was unexpected — rather than a business letter regarding the legal matter he was helping her with, Helene writes of a music-filled evening, much like the ones she enjoyed in Vienna. Helene’s son Harry got married in 1958. Throughout their marriage, Harry and Marie made beautiful music together. At age 95, she still loves to sing.

I wonder whether the musical evening in 1958 was a fundraiser like the one Paul Zerzawy was involved in that we saw in the October 14th post.

December 10

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Today we see two letters written six years apart from Helene’s friend Paula. During the war, Paula was one of the few friends who visited Helene while she and Vitali were separated from their children. Paula continued to write until at least 1955. As we saw in the July 11th post, mail from Vienna was still being censored, this time by the Allies. As in earlier posts, we see Paula’s letters become less coherent as the years go by. Her sentences often go on for over 150 words, long even by German standards. My translator tried to find natural breaks to make the letters more comprehensible. 

Vienna, 10 December 1946

My dear dear Helene!

Finally I got the dear letter from you and am very sad that you hurt yourself. I hope everything is okay now. My dear Helene, you write if I have already received the package. I have actually gotten two — one small one from France and nothing else yet except those. It will come in time. It always takes awhile. There was a ship strike and that had an effect. In any case, I thank you so much, but I worry that you scrimp and save and maybe that your children have a hard time. Maybe don’t send any more because I couldn’t stand if you were to suffer because of me, because I know how much you love us and you want to give us everything and I thank your dear children for all the things. Dear Helene, I was at the Kultusgemeinde [Jewish religious community in Vienna] again, and through the newspaper I reported to Herr Krell that maybe we could still find out something. I see Vitali so often in my dreams and I see that I believe that he must come soon. I can’t believe that this splendid person wouldn’t exist anymore. Annemie also talks about him so much and it’s so strange that the child was born in the same month as your husband, and he was always so proud of that — do you remember? Everything that she did was good. Dear Helene, I must tell you one sad thing. I was at the doctor and he told me that if my child doesn’t get better food with more fat in it, she will probably only survive for two years. She is growing so quickly that her heart and her lungs cannot keep up. Can you imagine how I feel at the thought of losing my child? I was in Salzburg again and got various things for the child. God should make it so that she does not get sick on me because it is so cold and we have no coal for the winter. Only 200 kilos for the entire winter and my mother has promised that she would give me some of hers.

Yesterday Frau Else was here to visit us and of course we speak about you and she loves the child, gives the little one a pretty red cap - you know how the little one is always dressed beautifully, so if we can keep it together we’ll make it through this ugly time. Dear Helene, you ask what I am doing and what I am living on. I have two rooms and a closet - the closet I have rented to a Jewish boy. He is 27 years old and was in a concentration camp. He is going to America as soon as it is his turn. So sometimes I cook when he brings things. And then I earn something too. He has plenty of money and he pays well. I have fixed up my room so that’s it’s cozy here. I certainly have lost a lot, but in the living room I have managed to keep it together although some things are still broken. However, you know a woman’s hand can sometimes make things look better, but actually everything that was in the basement was stolen, especially my underwear and my clothes. I am so poor with my things and I don’t really have much to wear anymore, but another time will come. The main thing is that when the little one has it, you know I just live for the child. Dear Helene, Else will also write to you and she will go to her sister’s in America and then I will be alone. Yes, I would love to see you again. It was so nice when we were together, such splendid people as you and Vitali, sometimes I think maybe we all will get together in life again. I cannot believe that I will never see you again and your wonderful children. My dear Helene, you write it is a matter of course that you send me packages. No, my dear, first your children have to work to do that and then I have done everything out of love for you and I am just so sorry that you have gotten so few of the packages of all the good things. Helene, dear Helene, I would love to have a picture of you and from your children. The one I have with her tennis racket, you can’t really see very well and if you had one, we could look at you and your children every day. Annemie is sending you a picture of herself of her soon and a letter. I am curious to see when she finishes it. She has clairvoyance like Vitali did. She often says something that is really exactly right. Now, when your letter has arrived, then she says “Oh I see that is from Tante Helen and Irna” and together and the next day it was really so - both letters were there. So she loves her grandmother very much and everything is about the child for her. She wants to spend a few days in Salzburg at Christmas, she gets to go there because she doesn’t have school because they don’t have coal and the school rooms are too cold for the children to be in so she gets to go visit her much beloved grandmother and then she has better food there, because then she can get milk which is not possible in Vienna. Oh, how good it is that you are not in Vienna anymore dear Helene and that you don’t have to go through this bad time here. As much as I would love to have you here, I wouldn’t want you to starve, that would be terrible, and the extreme cold. Yes, Helene, this year you will spend the first Christmas night with your beloved children. I wish with all my heart that it goes very well, that you have a good day, and won’t be so sad. I know and I understand that you really miss Vitali, but look, maybe there will be a miracle that happens and I cannot believe that this dear and good man will not come soon. Herr Krell is doing everything he can to find out something. Dear Helene, I am going to write you an address now which you can probably do more easily in America than I can from here. Write to the organization Hic [probably HIAS] and then you must give them all the exact information you have - that your husband was alive in March 1945 and he got away from Buchenwald in the long marches. At this time he was entirely healthy and that I got another letter for the child’s birthday and he asked for a certain kind of package which I also sent. Dear Helene, your nephew is not doing so badly with money and maybe he as I have done can write everywhere. And I will try to see if my lawyer can help in some way perhaps. He had someone from Buchenwald staying with him back in the day, a fellow understood that he knew someone named Cohen and that he was there when they marched. Helene, I still have hope and I don’t give up, my dearest.


Paula’s post-war address in Vienna was on Invalidenstrasse, less than a half-mile from Helene and Vitali’s old home on Seidlgasse. The package Paula received from France may have been sent by Lucienne Simier, with whom Helene became close at Ravensbrück — see May 8th post. Paula makes it clear that post-war Vienna is not a desirable place to be.

[Received December 8, 1952]

My dearest Helen!

I thank you for your dear letter. You must have already gotten mine. I see that you are also having problems with your apartment and yes my dearest, it’s about time that you get some peace but all difficulties go away and we just have to go through everything, my dear Helene. Just keep the faith and all the difficult stuff will pass by, as soon as Vitali is with you things will be very different. You will have read what has happened in Prague [Probably referring to November 24, 1952 trial] and of course that will have consequences for us too and it is better that Vitali hasn’t come yet because otherwise he might have to go through difficulties here again like in the year 1940, and he realizes that.

Dear good Helen, you must not give up hope because otherwise you just won’t be able to stick it out and believe and it will all turn out okay. Look how bad we are doing and still we say there has to come an end to this time too.

My dear good one, we all wish you a good Christmas celebration and especially a happy new year and stay healthy and believe it that it cannot last all that much longer and then Vitali will come because he also has a hard time in Turkey and he shouldn’t really be there and he is living under an assumed name and he must always have some fear hoping that nobody finds it out. Thank God now he is doing better and as soon as he can he will go away. Believe it. More I cannot write about this because he does not want anyone to really notice him.

Dear Helene this will pass and then dear God does not let his children fall. For today I will end my writing and I will write to you soon again and I would hope that you will get the letter before Christmas. We all send you greetings and kisses and we wish you good health and that you will get some peace.

Your dear friends kiss and greet you. We think of you often.

Have hope that everything will be okay 

Kisses, Paula


As we have seen in previous letters, Paula kept Helene’s hopes alive about seeing Vitali again, often asserting that she had been in contact with him. Unfortunately, her optimism was unfounded. In fact, she had seen Vitali in her dreams, but nowhere else.

December 9

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Today’s letter to Helene’s son Harry is the companion to Clipper letter #62 that Helene wrote to his sister the day before.

Vienna, 9 December 1940

My dear Harry-boy!

So, you’re playing a “prankster in America”. I wouldn’t even think of saying anything reproachful to you about that, because I behaved like a rascal on the street myself this week. In order not to forget how to walk, I decided to go shopping last Friday.

When I left the apartment, the weather looked really great, although doors and windows were rattling quite a bit. Papa gave me the food ration card and some good advice - not to wear a hat. My first path led to Knoll. A woman was pushing the other ladies who were shopping there around from one spot to another because she had lost her meat card and she kept assuring everyone that it just had to be here because she had it in her hand the whole way there. The butcher said “well, maybe the wind took the card out of your hand” and she said “what would the wind want with my meat card?” Although the other various housewives certainly showed a lot of understanding for this problem of having lost her card, nobody could really keep from laughing after she said that. After I finished shopping, I went in the direction of “Nordsee” to the Löwengasse. And around the corner was the Kegelgasse and there was quite a wind and next thing I knew I was in the Bechardgasse. Branches and dried out leaves and scraps of paper and hats and caps were filling the air. And as if it were pecking at me, a not very appetizing piece of paper covered my face and I had trouble getting it off of my face with my hand, because the other hand had to hang on for dear life to my shopping bag which was trying to act like a hot air balloon, taking me with it. I worked my way up to Kolonitzplatz and it was if the advertising posters and the store signs were giving an atonal concert. A musician would have been able to hear it and imagine a modern rhapsody, but I think if he had passed this off as his own composition, he would have been booed. Because my God, the Pastoralecertainly sounded a lot sweeter. On Kolonitzplatz when I finally got there, I thought I was at a Mardi Gras ballroom - a nice Vienna wind enjoys playing a joke on you. Rather stout and serious looking gentlemen grabbed as if on command with both hands to keep their hats on and turned around in 3/4 time and took quite a few steps without making any progress. An invisible hairdresser made a Medusa head out of my hair and the storm was quite gallant to us ladies. It would pick us up from the ground and carry us along a few meters and then put us down on the other side of the street. After I had bought some pickles, I let myself be moved. Who was that drumming along there? A head of cabbage was rumbling towards me. Maybe that’s why I was on the Kolingasse [pun on street name and rumbling cabbage]. And then it sort of brought me a black wax shopping bag which was following as if it were its duty the head of cabbage that I had found. I had far too much to do to deal with keeping my pickles under control, but then a colossal stomach almost ran me over. The stomach belonged to a bag and the cabbage and what the dear maid yelled at me could have been a set of legs. The pickles may go up in the hot air balloon again as I am thrown up in the air. But anyway, what the dear maiden said to me is the kind of thing that no decent person would write down in their family album (hence the name Stammgasse) [Stammbuch = family album/tree]. In the Kegelgasse where I ended up again, the cabbage had seemed to have hit and knocked over all nine trees (hence the name Kegelgasse) [Kegel = bowling ball]. I took advantage of a moment when the wind died down and I set off at a trot. I almost knocked over a guy who was there with a beer mug (hence the name Seidlgasse) [Seidl = beer mug].

I got home shortly before Papa did, who told me about his experiences on the Stubenring. The wind had taken delight in pushing over several benches which were reserved for Aryans to sit on. On the corner of Viaduktgasse, there was a wind bride who wished to dance with Papa, but he managed to get away from her impertinence. On the corner of Gärtnergasse, he would have been able to get some wind pants [Pun with whirlwind] without even having to pay points for them. Just like me, he was very glad to be home and we took pleasure in drinking tea about a quarter hour later. The wind, wind, wind of Vienna did all of that today.

That’s enough for today. Maybe I’ll write more tomorrow.

Helen


One of the wonderful things about Helene’s letters is how chatty she can be – she invites her children along with her on errands through the streets they’d walked on together many times before. They (and we) can feel the wind whipping as Helene treks through the neighborhood. Despite the daily privations and frustrations, she keeps the tone light. She throws in wordplay and puns, and likens her (and Harry’s) misadventures to a character in a book they would both have known. At first I didn’t understand her reference to Beethoven’s Symphony No. 6 — the Pastoral — because I thought of the calm, lyrical movements. But she is referring to the 4th movement, which evokes a violent storm, including high winds.

Below is a map showing the route Helene took. Since I did not have street addresses for the shops she went to, the arrows probably show her going further afield than she actually went. The starting and ending point of their home on Seidlgasse is circled in purple.