November 6, 1939: Letter from Papa August

Original Letter from August to Tom

The last blog post was about a letter from Ella, Opa’s mother, who wrote as soon as she heard of his leaving for America. Ella is my great-grandmother. She wrote to her small, big boy with advice and love. This blog post is about a letter from August, Opa’s father, my great-grandfather. August wrote this letter on November 6th, 1939- the same day Ella wrote her letter. He wrote to his dear big boy with his own set of advice and love.
(I'm going to do the translation in bits.)

Amstelveen, Nov. 6th, 1939

My dear big boy,

Now you have been gone for 4 days floating somewhere on the Atlantic, and the house, as Emma also noted, has grown very empty. Kansas seems very far away, and I feel very lonely.

I am afraid it will take a long time til we see each other again. But then everything will be beautiful, right? I have worried my head if it was right to send you so far away, but I think it was the right thing.

There is something about the language in the beginning of this letter. August is not thinking much about the fear of the unknown, but rather taking in the quiet of loneliness. I wonder if his lonely confession surprised Opa. I keep thinking about myself at nineteen. If I received a letter that started this way from my Dad after arriving at college, I would be oddly surprised by the tone. However, at nineteen, I did not sail the Atlantic, escape Hitler’s army, or know any true fear or war. August’s worries of whether he should have sent Opa to America or not tells me that even the most aware and politically savvy person could not have known the eventual vastness of Hitler’s reach in Europe.

August understands that it may be a while before he sees his son again, and his assertion that when they do reunite "everything will be beautiful" is so painfully hopeful. How hard it must have been to send his son off to a new country without a clue when he would see him again. He had spent the last year with his son- which was more time than he usually spent since he and Opa's mom divorced and he left Germany. August must have enjoyed the opportunity to connect with his son. Then he had to let him go again.



Most of everything will depend on you, your energy and your character. Your path will not be an easy one, hopefully easier than mine. Will you do everything to survive, manage the daily fight one has to lead against oneself and others?

I believe it is good to sit down every evening and to think about things done wrong and things done right. And when you discover that certain mistakes happen several times, write them down in a notebook and number them. Then when you are in the same situation the next day, you will remember "that was mistake number 3 or 5 that will not catch me again."

What profoundly German advice! I should try this! I am not sure I would remember my faults by number, but I like the simplicity. August is putting so much on Opa, and yet he knows that Opa really has to be his own success, survival, thriving. Did Opa receive it as advice from a wise elder, or was his reaction more along the lines of “Daaaad!”? I think if my Dad told my nineteen year old self to keep a notebook of mistakes- I would have rolled my eyes. Although I think my Dad knows better than to advise that.

You are alone for the very first time and habits can be very powerful. Do not let any habits lead you, the kind you cannot carry responsibility for. 

It just occurred to me: Opa had never been away from home at this point. Ever. So how’s about a short trip across the Atlantic and then to the flat middle of a whole new continent? August is trying hard to remind Opa that he is alone and responsible, without a safety net. It is up to Opa to establish his character. This last sentence is so simple but has such depth to it: Do not let any habits lead you.... the kind you cannot carry responsibility for. I’m sorry, but I’m a step away from sending this to the makers of motivational posters. It’s good stuff! When you feel out of control, stop the thing that leads you to the spiral. Again, I wonder how Opa read this letter. Was it encouraging and profound, or did he feel over-parented?

Write to me about everything, will you? Even unpleasant things. I am older and may have some advice when you might not know what to do. Write to me about the people around you.
Be honest to yourself, it is the foundation for everything. And remember that probably some day you will have to provide for Mama. So plan to build up something. Inform me right away about the financial situation and what it involves.
 

I love this, August gets to a little business. Write to me about everything, I am older and wiser. To thine own self be true (I wonder if he was referencing that philosophy), plan to provide for Mama (Ella). (I do wonder if he might have been alluding to a more near-sighted goal of Opa trying to get Ella out of Germany.) Tell me how you are doing with finances. It’s the papa laundry list. There is something very comforting about the normalcy - like a casual empty-nester is writing. Instead it is a man who spent a fortune getting his son out of Germany and spent a year of his life helping his son gain entry to a country that offered freedom, opportunity, and safety. But August knows that there will be twists and turns - even on the highway of the American dream.

This letter will probably arrive in McPherson before you do with greetings from your Papajung (Papa means Dad and jung means young, I do not know what this means) who will help you as much as he can. And who is with you even though you cannot see him.

Our translator was confused about this term August used, but Helene (Patti's daughter) knew it was a term of endearment for August. Who knows exactly how it came to be- we can only imagine the conversations Opa and August must have shared in their time together, and the inside jokes and shared knowledge that resulted.

Emma sends greetings. Now she cannot scold anymore about you stomping down the stairs so loudly, and when we left Rotterdam she cried.

Keep steady even when it is hard. That is the whole trick. And imagine how beautiful it will be after you succeeded.

Do you have a warm room? I am very much waiting for your telegram and your first letter.

Say hello to the college boys for me.
August

Oh Emma. I’m sure Opa had a strange relationship with her- she was his mother’s first cousin, and his father’s second wife. Awkward. Despite the awkward circumstances, it sounds like she felt very motherly towards him. Again August mentions the beauty... I’d love for a moment to sneak inside August’s mind and see the scene he was surely imagining. Did his dream of beauty come true? I love the last part: “do you have a warm room?” So basic and yet such a fatherly question. He just wants to know if Opa is safe, warm, and in college.

I can’t help but notice the difference between the two letters: Mama vs. Papa. Ella writes of holding and comforting her child. Of course she has her own character lessons to boot. August writes his advice in German form, with checklists, financial preparedness and steadiness. In the end they both write of loneliness in the absence of their child, and hope and encouragement for his future. I can imagine if they were my parents and I went back to read the letters a year, two, 10 years later- these letters would increase in profundity for me. Did Opa re-read these letters?

As a side note, I thought about August’s profession as a newspaper editor and wondered what was going on in the world around him on this day. I simply googled “What was Nazi Germany doing on November 6th, 1939?” This is what they were doing: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sonderaktion_Krakau (I know, I know - wikipedia, but the story is legit- I’ve checked several other sites) The gist of the tale is that the Nazi plan just weeks after invading Poland, was to take out the Intellectual Elite in the master plan to brainwash and dominate Poland. The professors in Krakow were called to a meeting under false pretenses and immediately arrested and sent ultimately to various detainment camps (some eventually to concentration camps). Many died. Those who survived created an underground university, and among its students was someone you may know- Pope John Paul II. That actually happened. Legit. A group of men sat in a room and made a plan to psychologically and culturally dominate a country. A real plan. That they carried out.  

If you look at a map, Amstelveen (where August lived) is about the same geographical distance from Berlin as Krakow. Amstelveen is much closer to the German border than Krakow. That’s pretty scary close.

I’m going to be honest with you readers, after looking up the Poland thing, I had an evening of funk, depression, whatever you want to call it. Because I don’t just read the headline, I read the article, the related articles, the side link, and the google images roll to go with it. It’s not nice stuff. It gets so overwhelming that I start to push it, and the reality of it, away. I just kept looking at the stuff thinking, how is this possible? How does this happen? Can I do anything to help stem this evil tide that flows in different parts of the world at different times, in different stories and different prejudices? Does good win? In faith, I believe, yes, it wins. More than just “good”- it is Love that wins. Light pierces the darkness. My faith in this is strangled almost to the point of hopelessness sometimes, but I hold on to it. Love wins. 

August and Ella loved Opa. That saved him. Opa had enough love from neighbors, strangers, and high-connections to keep him floating. So I keep sharing this story of love, and try to write my own story of love with my life.

August was very right to send his dear big boy as far away from these atrocities as he could.

November 6, 1939: Letter From Mama

Now, over two years from starting this blog, I am finally back to the original letters that I found in that box under Grandmother's desk. During our research process, we found the letters from Opa to Gisela and Anni (Gisela so kindly gave us copies). We were contacted by the Holocaust Museum who had the documents from the archives of the American Friends Service Committee (they so generously helped us access any file we needed). We had so much new information that I had to practically clean out the beginning of this blog and start again with the earliest documents. These documents told a story to which even Opa didn't have full access. 

Now we pick up where we left off two years ago and we get to dive into that box of letters. The earliest letters we found in the box are both dated November 6th, 1939. One is from Ella, Opa’s mother. The other is from August and Emma, Opa’s Dad and step-mom. I thought it was appropriate for us to start our journey into the letters with a letter from Mama... All translated parts are the work of Rose Ball, a trusted friend of Opa's and someone who has worked hard to provide us with translations of our German letters.

Scan of Original letter from Ella to Opa

Ella, Opa’s mother, wrote to her son as soon as she heard the news he set sail for the land of the free. I am a mother of two young boys. I cannot possibly fathom the life and soul of this instance of a mother watching her son go without knowing if she'll see him again. Opa was not just leaving the nest, but the country, continent, Nazi-cage. Opa was not just going to college, but leaving a culture, language, an entire worldview behind. Ella was not just an empty-nester, but an isolated, threatened Jewish woman in an increasingly anti-semitic and violent Germany. But what does Ella worry about? What does she write about in her letter to her son? Her worries for him. I'm going to cut and paste the translation and go through it with you. It's a beautiful letter.

Berlin-Charlottenburg 4, Droysenstr.14

November 6th, 1939 

My much beloved boy,

Your card with the last greeting from home just arrived, which I had been impatiently waiting for.
By now you have been on the water for several days, I am constantly thinking about you, the way silly Mamas do, if the little one is not ill and if everything will work out for good. And then I wish I could be with you to surround you with much love, to caress you, like one caresses small children (for Mamas all children remain small) and to feel you.

She writes about loving him. Wanting to hold him like he is her little boy, although she knows he is grown and so much more independent than even she can imagine- out of survival. I have those two little boys, and I understand the need to squeeze them when life is threatened, scary, unstable. Physical touch is about the closest thing you can get to security, and as much as our children need to be held when they are hurt, a mother needs to hold her child to know he will be OK.  

Then it feels almost as if she wipes a tear, sits up a little straighter in her seat, and pens the rest:

But you do not need that anymore, you are my big strong boy! I am happy to know that I can trust you, I know you will always be a decent human being, who would not say or do anything against his convictions, who with all his strengths strive to learn a lot and be able to give to people. This tremendous luck you have now obligates you to great achievements. 

Mama Ella can give a pep talk. What encouragement, trust, and genuine perspective she has. She sees Opa’s luck, good fortune, and encourages him to create a life worth living. She knows the strength he has already shown in avoiding military conscription and resisting the Nazi rise to power. And yet, she is still his mother and worries... 

I would love for this letter to be there before you arrive to help with the at-home-feeling a little bit. Keep in mind in my thoughts I am there with you when you are welcomed by your new friends. I am sure, that soon you will have friends there like always.Even if at first everything will be new and strange, you soon will adjust, you are with good people. Search in every person what makes him worthy, everybody has a lot of goodness, and that you must appreciate.

In the midst of her life in Nazi Germany, Ella sounds a lot like the well-known Anne Frank in her belief in the goodness of people. This gives me hope. It gives me warmth in my soul. Ella saw evil lurking, and still was able to siphon out the good.

With joy I read about the great time you spent with the Quakers. Please, my beloved boy write to me in details about everything, the journey, New York, Philadelphia and your new home. From my heart I call and wish for you. Good luck, my beloved boy, for your life, your work, your achievements.

And kisses for my big small and strong boy.

Your Mama

My heart is just melting. Mama Ella wants to know everything, she knows the outline of the plan (so Opa must have known a little of what to expect when he arrived), and she wants to know how it all went. The drama of the escape and world events aside, Opa’s mother just wanted to hear about his days. 

Ella signs her letter with kisses to her big, small boy. I imagine there are infinite mothers who have some understanding of this phenomenon to want to hug and kiss their big, small boys. I think tomorrow morning I will hug and kiss my small boys even more, to get some extra snuggles in before they become big small boys.

 Picture of Ella, my great-grandmother

Spotlight: Erich Ursell

      The final refugee in this week of refugee spotlights is a little different. When Opa was writing to Gisela on April 5,1939 from Holland, he mentioned how many people would stop through on their way to emigrating to other places. One who had just visited at that point was Erich Ursell. He was a member of the Quaker youth group with Opa. Of all the refugees this week, Erich is someone who Opa knew, although am not sure if they kept in touch much after they got to the United States. Below is some of Erich’s story from the files and much thanks to his son Philip for sharing some about Erich’s life as well.

       Erich was born January 10, 1915 in Attendorn, Westphalia. His family and he were Jewish and his father owned a factory for tin goods and zinkification. They lost ownership of the factory after the advent of the new regime in 1933 and shortly after that, Erich’s father died. Erich had planned to own and manage the factory and so he apprenticed and worked at various management positions while also getting technical training in machine and tool making. 

      Some of the Quaker Friends in the States had been talking to Hertha Kraus and others about getting Erich over. In 1938-39, there was an effort to get an affidavit, but was unsuccessful. In March of 1939, a group of ten young couples in Washington D.C. wanted to help a refugee and one of them offered to be the affiant for Erich. This process took a little time and finalized in January of 1940. In the meantime, Erich accepted an offer to go to Woodbrooke Quaker College in Birmingham, England for their second term ending in January of 1940. His mother and sisters remained in Berlin. 

     Unlike the other refugees, Erich was not brought over through a school, but as an adult seeking a trade. He found work as a helper in the workshop of the Capital Transit. During the 1940s he was an active member of the Young Friends of the Friends Meeting of Washington. During and after the war, Erich worked to get his mother and sisters to the States. His sisters made it to England. His mother and her sister died in concentration camps. 

    Under the auspices of the Meeting in 1946, he married Lucile Christman, an economist working at the Labor Department of the federal government. In 1948 in Georgetown, the Ursells opened a store specializing in fine gifts, gradually expanding into contemporary home furnishings. Over the years the store became well known in the DC area. It was sold in 1983 and no longer exists. Erich and his wife had two children, a boy and a girl. Erich Ursell died in 1995.

Spotlight: Wolfram Liepe

     Another refugee student seeking placement at a college is Wolfram Liepe. He, like Opa, is out of the country and seeking a college acceptance and scholarship in order to emigrate to the states. Wolfram is in Charlotte's letter to Georgia Tech on May 1, 1939. 

     Most of the AFSC files are individuals, but Wolfram's file actually contains documents about his whole family. Wolfram's family was in Frankfurt, Germany and part of their reason for leaving was Wolfram's mother, Gertrude. She was Jewish and worked as a translator of the poetry of Emily Dickinson. His father, Wolfgang, was assistant professor at University of Halle. Wolfgang went on to chair the Department of German Literature at the University of Kiel and was head of the Institute of Literature and Theatre. He was transferred to the University of Frankfurt where he retired in 1936. He began connecting with the States as a guest professor at Harvard in 1930. In 1939, Wolfgang was visiting the U.S. as a professor and worked to remain there and get his family to the States as well. Wolfgang knew the Martins who tried to help. 

 

Marianne Liepe's (Wolfram's sister)
picture from the AFSC file.

      The AFSC tried to help all the family over. Wolfram's younger brother, Winfred, ended up at Westtown school. His sister, Marianne, was at Basle studying art history and ended up continuing those studies at Vassar College. Wolfram had a handful of colleges Charlotte checked with (Georgia Tech, Oberlin). In June of 1939, Charlotte said that Wolfram got the scholarship for Antioch, but "getting him over here is going to be very complicated indeed". Wolfram (and I am guessing his family) came over in October of 1939. 

     Wolfgang, Wolfram's father, got a position working as a professor at Yankton College before securing his long term appointment at University of Chicago. He was a professor of German literature, a Shakespearean scholar. He acted as an army chaplain after the war and counseled those who had been with the Nazis. 

       According to his file, Wolfram was one of the first ones to be drafted before Pearl Harbor. He did intelligence work, going back to France, Germany and Austria to serve there. He was in charge of an Austrian town. He married his wife Lois and they had two children, Chuck and Jennifer. Wolfram died in 1973. 

      I have had wonderful conversations with Wolfram's daughter Jennifer who is trying to learn more about her father and is hoping to look at the files. Hopefully, I can update with more information in the future!

Spotlight: Ellen Scheiberg

A picture from Ellen's AFSC file

Another person that is mentioned once in the May 9, 1939 letter among the refugees is Ellen Scheiberg. She was, like Sabine Heller, in the United States and Charlotte was trying to secure her a place in a college. I have not found any relatives, but have some information between her AFSC file and the internet! 

Ellen Scheiberg was born in Hanover on December 26, 1921, daughter of Mr. & Mrs. Albert Scheiberg. Albert was a private bank owner in his father’s bank, in charge of the Exchange in Hanover. In December of 1936, it became apparent that the continuation of school in Germany was not an option because of regulations concerning Jewish students. Ellen was sent to England with a scholarship to the Bedford Girls’ Modern School.  She was there until July 1938. Her father took his own life in April of 1937. Her brother came to the US in 1936. By July 1938, both her parents were no longer living, so she sought to be reunited with her brother in America. After getting her Commercial Certificate in ’38, she worked at a stockbroker’s office in London until she could emigrate. Her sister-in-law, Miss Rothschild, worked at the information desk of the Council of Jewish Women in the AFSC Building. Ellen arrived in the US in January 30, 1939 and stayed in NY for 8 months. In September of 1940, she entered college in Berea College in Kentucky with a scholarship. She graduated from Berea in 1943. By 1945, she was married and her last name became Edelston. She died on May 11, 1978 and is buried in the Woodlawn Quaker Burial Grounds in Mount Vernon, Virginia. 

A picture from Ellen's AFSC file

Spotlight: Sabine Heller

Sabine around 1941

As Opa was seeking placement in a school, there were many other refugee students that Charlotte Salmon at the American Friends Service Committee was working to place. Sabine Heller was a name that pops up on both April 21, 1939 and May 9, 1939. Sabine was in the country at that point, but was seeking a scholarship. In the two letters we have, Charlotte was pushing for Sabine as an option to consider.

Sabine was one of the cases where I was able to find a relative and they were so gracious to share a bit about Sabine for you to know what became of her after these files. Much thanks to Michael Casten and below is the spotlight he gave for his mom, Sabine. 

Sabine in 1944 from her yearbook

  

Sabine A. Heller was born in Heidelberg, Germany on June 8, 1922. She was born into a family of 5 with her mother and father, sister (Ruth) and brother (Peter). Her ancestry included Jewish heritage from one side of her parents. 

Sabine's mother was a historian/university professor and her father was a pediatrician. Living in Germany in the 1930's became dangerous for the Jewish people and her parents feared for their children. 

To ensure their children's safety, Sabine's parents sent her to England to a boarding school to finish her High School education. 

In about 1940, after she finished High School in England she became associated with the Brethren and Manchester College in Indiana. John and Margaret Metzler took her in as they volunteered for her to live with them during the summers and college holidays. Sabine graduated from this college in 1944 with a B.A. degree. 

Sabine furthered her education by pursuing a graduate degree at Purdue, completing all the coursework but never completing her thesis for reasons unknown. 

Living in Chicago at the YWCA on Oak Street, Sabine became a chemistry professor at the University of Illinois, Navy Pier Campus. This is where she met her future husband, Chris Casten. 

They were married and lived in the Austin neighborhood where they had their first child, Julia Casten (1960-2008). Four years later they had their first son, Andrew Casten (born 1964). Chris went to medical school and became a doctor. The Casten family moved to Oak Park living on Highland Avenue where they had their last child, Michael Casten (born 1967). 

The Casten family then moved to Forest Avenue in Oak Park in 1971. Moving once again to Steven’s Point, WI in 1975. They only spent one year in Steven’s Point when they moved back to the Chicago area (River Forest) in 1976 (Keystone Avenue then Monroe Avenue). This was to be the final address for Sabine. 

While Chris worked as a doctor, Sabine tutored students in chemistry. Both Chris and Sabine had a passion for antiques and Sabine eventually had her own business dealing in antiques (The Lace Collection). 

Sabine lived a long full life, never wavered from her convictions, and held her head high in pride in the midst of much adversity over her lifetime. She died from a glial blastoma (Brain tumor) with dignity and surrounded by her children on June 25, 2008 at the age of 86.

Spotlight: Jan Rosenbach Part II

As you may recall, we did a spotlight Part I for Jan Rosenbach. This was to give you a little of his story since he was also in the running for McPherson. At the time, we didn't want to give away his whole story. So I have included below Part I and then you can see in Part II where Jan ends up:

Part I

   Jan was born in Czechoslovakia on September 1st, 1921. His father was Jewish and his mother, Anna Lorene Rosenbach, born in Moravia, was Aryan. They were involved in the Fellowship of Reconciliation in Czechoslovakia. His father, Franticek Rosenbach, was a state police counselor or inspector. In correspondence, it says he “died suddenly” on March 16, 1939, Jan’s final year of school. Another letter says he “died of nerve-shock when the German troops entered Prague”. This was when the Fellowship Of Reconciliation in Czechoslovakia began helping Jan leave to go to the U.S. In Jan’s file are many letters from the Fellowship working to get him out and settled at a school.

Part II

   So, as you now know, Jan does not end up at McPherson. In his file, there is one dialogue with Paul Burt, who also had been given Opa’s info as well. Then, on August 4th, 1939, there is a note that Rutgers offers him a scholarship. In November, there is a note where Jan is unsure he can afford the steamship rates and Rutgers has given the funds to another refugee, so that is out of the question. 

    Then the file skips to May 16, 1940. Jan arrived on the Pennland (the same boat Opa travelled on in November of the year before) and Jan is at Ellis Island with the letter of scholarship from Rutgers for Fall 1939, even though that hadn't been on the table since November of the year before. He is being threatened to be deported because he has no school and no scholarship. In June, you find the AFSC trying to get Rutgers to give him a scholarship for the 1940-41 year or get all his credentials he sent to them because he has none with him. They appeal to Newberry College and University of Delaware. Finally, Rutgers accepts him in for the 1940 year sometime end of June/early July. So he was detained at Ellis Island for over a month. Somehow, he gets an offer from Tufts and accepts and transfers from Rutgers to Tufts in that summer. He ends up staying at his uncle's home in Philadelphia that summer. 

    Until we posted our blog, this was all I could find out. But we were blessed to get contacted by Charlie Trantanella who is writing a book entitled "Brown and Blue and Greek: A history of fraternities, sororities, and early student organizations at Tufts University". We were able to swap information about Jan. He had some documents that lifted up that Phi Epsilon Pi was the fraternity that helped fund and house Jan during his time at Tufts. Jan went in pursuit of a doctorate in chemistry. The college allowed him to come in as a sophomore. He also went out for the soccer squad. 
    Charlie nor I have found anything else about Jan after his time at Tufts. I haven't found any family either. I will update if any more information becomes available.