Great Grandfather, Royal Mail carrier to the Emperor of Austria

 

Father's Mother

 

Great Grandparents

 

Austria 1939-40

Coming home from school one day I told my parents I was now a Hitler youth member, with fury my father said how could you do this, you know how we feel about this farce of a leadership we are forced to endure. I said I had no choice, some men with a brown uniform came in, told us to stand up and swore us into this organization.. My mother said to my father, please be reasonable, yes how could she to abstain when everyone stood up, after all she is only 10 years old. This calmed my father but told me never to go to a meeting, I never did.

Many Saturday's mornings I went with my Mother to the farmers market with many stalls of peddlers who bought produce from the farmers. Many of them wore a yellow band on their sleeves. I asked her what does that mean, she said these people are Jewish, they have to wear them. I asked her again what did they do . She said nothing, they did not do anything. I asked her again, will we have to wear armbands to tell every one we are catholic?, she said no, I do not think so. They must have done something bad, I answered, she said no they did not and do not ever think that.

My father one day took me out for a walk he wanted me to see something. It was not a very long walk, when we stopped before a mountain of rubble that was once a building he said this was a synagogue, the church for Jews, you see they have done nothing bad it is this government that does such evil to people that have not committed any crime. He continued talking saying, but you must promise me never to talk about this to anyone this is our secret, only as a family we will talk about this. I learned early in life not to discuss family matters.
I saw less and less of people with the star of David on their arms, they simply disappeared from the city. Once again I asked where did they go, my parents said, they are being interned in a camp some where, where they did not know. It was all very mysterious to me.

One day in school our math professor was in the middle writing on the blackboard when some men in brown shirts came in and dragged him from our room, we got up simply to look where they were taking him, they threw him down the stairs calling him a Jew, you are not fit to teach 'German' children! I remember thinking, "we are not German we are Austrian," and to this day I feel very strongly about that.

On the way to school I had to walk past one of Vienna's train station when I saw hundreds of people with a yellow band in line to board a freight train taking them away to where, no one could tell me.

I was still in the country when the war started against Poland never to have gone back to the farm till nearly the end of it in 1944. Food was rationed at first there was enough but it dwindled down to 900 calories a day, not enough for growing children and living in a huge metropolis there was no food to be had.

One day in 1940, men came to see my father again asking him to join the nazi party, he refused and since they could not find anything about his political doings, a few days later, he was inducted in to the German Army. He was then 33 years old.

Austria 1938-39

My father became a master gardener working for the city of Vienna. While living in the country he became very knowledgeable and interested in horticulture, farming and gardening. His father died in 1934 I remember him as a very kind man who never spoke as if he had lost his speech, when asked my father why grandfather does not speak he said he lost his voice when his wife left him. Whether that was true or not I can not say but I do remember the few times when we spent our vacation with my mother's mother in the country, he would come by the church on a Sunday and walk me home but not before he would buy some candy and handing me a piece every so often never speaking a word.

Life was better than the 10 years before but then came the month of March when Hitler proclaimed Austria's annexation to Germany. Prior to that the Austrian Chancellor Kurt Schuschnigg was threatened by Hitler if he did not agree a war would surely start. Schuschnigg asked for help from other countries but none came forth, rather then fighting a war where Austria would lose in any case, he conceded to the Nazis and was promptly thrown into a concentration camp.

I remember very clearly sitting in front of the radio with my mother and listening to the chancellors farewell address to his people he tried to save from the evil he knew that will follow. The tears that ran down my mother's face I shall never forget and not the cursing anger voiced by my father. "This is the end of Austria as we know it" he said.

It was also the year my father's grandfather died, his funeral was full of pomp and circumstance, he was the last courier of the Austria-Hungarian empire to the Hapsburgs, I remember walking with my sister behind his casket through the streets of Vienna towards the cemetery where he was laid in the chapel under glass so everyone could see him. I have several photos of this event.

Many years later discovered my father went underground to help Jews to escape but it always was to his peril. He was suspected of doing this , Nazis came to the house and asked him to join the party but he refused then was asked he had to proof he was not a Jew. I still have the documents he had to procure for them.
The summer 0f 1939 was the last happy one in my childhood, nothing but tragedies followed.

My very much honored Great grandfather in his what used to make me giggle uniform,
please note the horn he used to announce his arrival while riding on a a coach pulled by trotting horses.

with his wife

and their daughter, my father's mother

The Beginning

My father was born to a very well off family in Vienna. While his father was fighting in Russia during WWI, his mother deserted him for some one else. This meant he was brought up by his Grandparents. His Grandfather was the mail courier to the Hapsburg family till 1918 when the war ended in defeat. When his father came back from the war, my father was 11 years old and the family lost most every thing, moneys and titles. His father decided to go back to the farm where his ancestors originally came from, at that time it was actually Hungary but was later conceded to Austria though their background was always Austrian.

My father was in his late teens when he met my mother, who was the daughter of a farmer and his Hungarian wife, they had ten children. Their background was totally the opposite from that of my fathers, his family was furious about that match and disinherited him.
My parents moved back to Vienna when my father became very interested in the new government without the Hapsburgs whom he, perhaps for good reasons, despised.
Times were awful for the common people, the depression was starving them, no work and nothing to eat. To that I was born and three years later I had a sister.

A civil war started in the early 30's between the social democrats and the workers party. My father as social democrat was fighting with them, but a third party interfered that of the national socialist party (Nazis) hoping to get a hold on Austria even then.

One of the earliest memories I have about this seeing my father come home with blood all over his face and down his shirt and my mother crying and saying, why are you doing this? He must have answered but I do not remember what it was, however, in hindsight I know he was a very angry young man, one time the front door bell rang and I opened the door, an older lady stood there asking for my father, he came and said to her, do not shadow my front door again, I have nothing to say to you, please leave. I asked him who she was, he said, this was your grandmother who deserted me when I was about your age.

My Grandmother's Apron

What lovely memories I have of this sort of apron my grandmother used to wear, she did all these things when I visited her during summer vacation. She lived in Austria a mile stone from the Hungarian border. Even as a child it impressed me how simple they lived in comparison to Vienna where I lived. No electricity, only kerosene, no water only from a spring located down the mountain. The only food she bought were sugar, spices, salt, coffee and Tea.
There are many things I can remember about my grandmother, her name was the same as mine. Her apron was all they way down to her toes because that 's how long her skirt was and the rest of her was always covered, just her face and hands were free of clothing, one would think she lived in a different time than we did. In her kitchen was a huge stove, from floor to ceiling built of green tiles. Three times a week she baked bread, mixed the ingredients in a very large, oblong, wooden bowl that she placed on the bench were she kneaded it. Eventually she divided the dough for the wet baskets to be put on a large platform with a long handle and shove it way back into the oven.I could tell you a lot more about my grandmother but I am afraid I might bore some of you with more modern problems.

The bed my sister and I slept in had a mattress filled with straw, the sheets were of linen that GM wove herself, but don't think they were as fine as what you buy today, they were coarse and heavy, when they needed washing you could hardly lift them. She made a set for each of her daughter’s dowry, there were five of them. I never saw her weaving, she did that in the winter when there was not as much to do out of door. They were made into three sections she than wove together. My mother explained this to me later on when she used them for our beds, they lasted forever and ever, and I still slept in them till I left Vienna.My GM took care of her chickens, pigs and geese (they always chased me) and her kitchen garden, to this day I think of her when I smell Phlox, she had a lot of them. She also grew poppies for the Mohan (poppy seeds) not for drug purposes but for delicious fillings in cakes and breads.
When she needed water she'd walk down the mountain to the spring with a half barrel that had two handles fill it with water and put it on her head where she had a special ring pad to support the barrel and walk back up again Many times my mother would do this for her when visiting.
Once there was an awful thunderstorm while GM was churning butter out of doors sitting on a bench as she finished she went inside came out again with her rosary and started to pray, this scared me, to this day I don't like thunderstorms.Having had these times with my GM helped me to adjust living in this rural area where I live now from the very urban life I had in Vienna.

Some of the things you said about you GM I remember about my husband's mother, she would be now 106 years old, she died 10 years ago, She also saved all the grain bags for every day aprons, she did not sew but gave them to the church for their Christmas bazaar so the ladies with sewing talents could make aprons or wrap around to sell which she in turn bought for herself and some for me too, LOL.
I scanned a picture taken in the 30's with my parents on the right with my mother’s sister and brother. My grandmother is in the middle with my sister on the right and Maria on the left, I would not smile because I lost my front teeth, LOL. This is the only picture I have of her, my parents had to talk her into removing her head covering. Click the image for an enlarged view.
I have hardly any memories of my other GM. She was my Father's mother but he denied her. When his father came home from Russia in WWI, he discovered his wife had run off with another man. My father was about 10 years old, was never allowed to speak to her again. She was ostracized by the whole family who were very important people in Vienna, her father was the last honorary mail officer who delivered the mail to the Emperor Franz Joseph till the end of WWI.I must have been about 8 years old when the door bell rang as I opened it this woman asked for my father, in the mean time my father came and said to her, do not cast your shadow on this door again and closed it. That was the only time I saw my other GM. Her mother, my GGM, took care of my Father till he grew up. She also wore an apron all the time and loved cooking. I remember for special occasion she made a cake soaked in sweet wine. It was served with tea or coffee at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. She and GGF lived in an apartment looking over a large square with a church as focal point.
Every Sunday I would visit them with my parents and sister before church. My GGF was too ill to go to church but would always give us money, he would say half for you and half for the church but my father insisted to give all of it. Boy was I mad.
When my GGF died there were big doings in Vienna, the funeral procession must have been a mile long through the city where we had to follow the casket so every one who wanted to could join. I remember this as if it happened yesterday.My GGM took my sister and me to the country for one summer, we had a wonderful time, she had a little house there not far from the Bohemian border.I still can see the house keeper catching a chicken for dinner with my GGM helping her and laughing about it all the time because they did not have much luck but finally they did, poor chicken! One day she got the wash ready for the big copper kettle but noticed a mouse was in there she just reached for it grabbed it by the tail, swung it around in a fast big circle and smashed it on the floor, poor mouse! I was amazed to do such a thing.One day, early in the morning. I looked out the window and saw soldiers marching by with many, many horses. I asked GGM what is going on out there, she said 'dieser verdammte kerl hat einen Krieg angefangen' and took all the farmers horses from the village, how are they going to plow their fields without them?' This was the beginning of WWII and the end of my happy childhood forever. I was 11 years old in 1939.When I was young, I was too busy with family of four children and volunteer work plus going to Brown University to catch up on my education that was interrupted by marriage.

When my GGM met my later to be my husband, she was terribly upset and shocked to meet this American soldier. "How can you even talk to a man who bombed our beautiful city, who did such awful things to our homes making so many homeless, I am very disappointed in you". It left me nearly speechless, what could I say to this old Lady, I finally said, well he was not one of them and what to you think we did to others in the war?" My husband did not speak German, so he had to be told by me what she said, he just smiled and said, “Oh, I understand her pain, I could never blame her for feeling like that.”Five years later, I returned to Vienna for a visit with my three year old daughter to meet her grand parents. My GGM was still alive all was forgotten when she met the little one, she was now a GGGM!

My GM and GGm haven't told me many stories. All I know about them is what I have observed as a young girl visiting their farms and some my mother told me. Where my mother was born that area of Austria was actually Hungary, everyone had to speak its language although they all were German speaking people. This was difficult for my mother in school. After WWI it became Austria and the reverse became a fact. Once again she had to change over to another language, this time her own but making it rather difficult again. Border people always had trouble with their identities because some other country always wants what is not theirs and it still happens.
At the end of 1944 the bombing of Vienna was a daily occurrence; I barely made it to school or a school that was not demolished by them. My Mother was always in tears because there was no food for us. I told her I will go to GM Farm perhaps they will give me something.
I took the train and was welcomed by my Uncle who had taken over the farm since my grand parents had passed away. I was very sad not to see her walking out of the door to give me a hug. My Uncle gave me lots of vegetables, flour and apples among other things.

Taking the train home again I heard the roar of the American planes heading for Vienna from Italy, when suddenly bombs were falling along the side of the train fortunately missing it. I remember thinking for a little bit of food I almost got killed. But then, I wondered every day if we would see another one.
After the war the worst was yet to come. Once again I thought to go to the country, this time to my GGM house since there were no more trains available due to bombings to GM Farm. When we arrived there, my sister was with me, no one was at home, no house keeper, no GGM, and she was still in Vienna. We decided to scrounge the fields to see what was left. We dug for some potatoes and found one lonely cabbage and that was it. When we got to the train there was no room any more but many people sat on the roof of the wagons we decided to join them. Here I was about 16 years old and my sister 13; my mother would have had a heart attack if she knew. The only scary time was crossing the Danube; I was imagining sliding off and drown in that "blue" river. We got home safely.This is not a story about aprons but indirectly it is.

I did want to mention one other little thing. Today as I drive by a farm growing cabbage but did not use them all letting them rot away, smelling up the whole place, I always remember that lone cabbage my sister and I picked.Just the other day a lady in the marked complained to me about prices for food, I could not help but saying, at least it is here for us to buy, and thought, Lady you don't know the worst of it.

OK, I'll Tell a little bit more of my visits to my GM Farm. Something I just did not like to do, going to the outhouse when I needed to, I had to run across the barn yard, trying to avoid the geese chasing me and making me step into their squishy messes. Yuk! One day asked my GM why she does not have a toilet like we have in Vienna, she just laughed and said, it's because we live in the country, where we don't have such fancy things.Attached to the house was the smoke room and a sort of workshop where the men repaired their farming equipment. The house it self had a huge kitchen and two bedrooms. Also attached was a large barn with nothing in it. It was used for flailing special wheat by hand. The flailing object was a long pole with a rope attached, on the end of the rope was heavy leather ball, the men would swing it around them selves and finally come in contact with the wheat. After the men were finished it was my GM job to pick up the stalks and I would help her. Finally she would get a huge sifter, sweep of the kernels and start sifting, I tried that and thought my arms would fall off, making every body there burst into laughter.Now an amazing thing happened. As you can imagine the floor of this barn was pretty beaten up fro all that flailing that went on for a few days. You see, the village had only a couple of thrashing machines, they were passed around to the different farmers for wheat one did not have to be so fussy about.
To go back to the floor, my GM had saved all the cow manure she could get her hands on, diluted it with water to make a heavy paste, she than with a brush on hands and knees applied it on to that floor, what a job that was. When I asked why are you doing this she said it's being done once a year and it will be like cement once it tries. I don't remember how much later she made milk paint, other than milk I don't know what else is it, in any case she started to paint the floor of the barn to cover the very hard brown color and it became white as snow as it was before the thrashings.

I have a picture about a house that looks exactly like my GM except she did not have a well. About 20 years ago I drove to the village to visit my aunt whose husband was the one who took over the farm who also passed away. His son tore down the old house and built a new one which made me sad however they now have every convenience possible and do not farm anymore.The road has not changed at all. The house I am showing is now a museumthere are hardly any of this type left.

I should have mentioned that the siding of the houses were treated the same way as the barn floor was by my GM.

I am terribly please you like these stories as I remember them. I think why I recall them so well is because of the drastic difference between living in a beautiful, very cultural city, where I had a marvelous education, studied several languages from the time I was six years old(because of lack of usage have totally forgotten them) concerts, museums, opera, famous architecture, plays, homes where Mozart, Beethoven , Schubert lived and composed, on and on I could go.An hour with the train and it was like living on another planet where my grand parents lived. It made a huge impression on me and being naturally very curious I wanted to know everything by asking a million questions, I must have been a pain in the neck ! LOL. As I write all this other memories are coming forth but not many more.
The young are very impressionable, most things they never forget in their life time and I in particular was at that age when so many unusual things happened. My sister, for instance was just too young to remember many things although we spent much time together and doing nearly the same things, she always says, when making references to GM, you remember because you were so much older.
Since I am on the subject of food, I remember one morning being woken up with a terrible squealing sound of one of the pigs. I ran out to look and saw my Grandfather slaughtering one. My GM told me to get back into the house at once, I did and was glad the squealing stopped. I have no idea what they did with the Pig after but another time my GM was rendering fat, tons of it and roasted pork in the oven. After that was done she put the roasted pork into a huge earthen crock and poured the fat in layers over it till the crock was full, this was put into a cool storage place and when ever she served pork she'd get a hunk out of it, it was delicious.My GF was in charge of the smoke room that was always locked, a few times I went with him when he wanted a slab of bacon, he'd reach up get a hold of one and cut a hunk off.. He also did the same with the Ham. Lot of sausageshung there also. I remember one my GM made with the blood of the pig. She cooked it with many spices till it jelled than added cube cut smoked bacon and stuffed it into the casings most likely from the pig. I always liked eating it.My mother told me at Christmas time they always had a roasted goose,I never spent Christmas with my GP but I was thinking one less goose to chase me next summer!MG was a wonderful cook, the baking she did was out of this world, as I told before she baked her own bread but she also baked wonderful strudels, my favorite was the cottage cheese one. The cheese was very, very dry not like the one you buy here, She almost pureed it and mixed it with sugar, eggs, raisins and sour cream, that was the filling, it was served warm with hot cream poured over it. Heavenly! She made many soups and stews, in the evening when the men came in after work, she put it in to a huge tureen in the middle of the table and some bread. Everybody had a spoon and ate out of the tureen. I objected saying I wanted my own dish, we don't eat out of a bowl where every one eats out of. She told me to eat like every one else or don't eat at all. I was hungry so I joined reluctantly.I was not always my GM shadow, had lots of fun with my GF, more of that later.
She was very organized, I think, I know she got up about 5 AM if not before, but they went to bed early, almost as soon as it became dark. The only time I saw her sitting down was churning butter, praying or grinding the coffee. In other words she was never idle for one minute. In the winter she weaved and mended clothes, I asked my Mother about that, like what did you do when it snowed? My mother also loved to sew, in the village they called her tailor, which means Schneider. It seems what ever people did that was different from farming they got the nick name in reference to what they did. For instance, a carpenter would be called a "Tischler,” a tailor would be called "Hafner" which happens to be my maiden name, so some where ions back there must have been a tailor.

The Candy Shop

Perpendicular from the school I went to was a candy shop. It was very small, tucked away into the corner of a very old building, several crooked stone steppes led down to the door and when opened a little bell announced a customers arrival. A very old lady, perhaps not so old but to me, a 10 year old, she seemed ancient. She was very small, not much taller than I was, for one thing she had what I now know a very bad case of osteoporosis., her hair was snow white and she had twinkling blue eyes.
The best part about her was how wonderful she thought we school children were, twice a year when our achievement reports were handed out she invited us to stop to give every one a piece of candy no matter how many "A's" we had to show and no matter how many young scholars were educated in this 5 story 18 century school house
As usual with a lot of noise being happy another day of school was over we ran out of the great door to freedom. Suddenly some of us noticed our candy lady and her grandson who always stopped by after school to help her was on her knees washing the side walk. As I walked closer, I said 'what are you doing, Mrs. Maier'? Before she could answer an man in a brown uniform said, 'she has to clean up the Jewish dirt that contaminates this side walk' . 'I am so sorry you have to do this, Mrs. Maier', I said and watched her grandson who had to paint the swastika with a white wash on the windows. 'You are making her sick said another pupil, she will not be able to give us candy any more'. He than yelled at us, 'you better get home or you'd be washing too in a minute'.!
The candy store was never opened again.. And I never saw Mrs. Meier and her grandson again

Maria

Where Did He go?

Many different families lived in the apartment complex where I lived with my sister and our parents. On the way to school in the morning I would meet some of them to wish them good day. On one of such a day I greeted with my usual salutation to a woman who lived below us when she suddenly raised her arm and stated very firmly "Heil Hitler." I was very startled leaving me speechless. She said from now on you must greet me this way or I will report you to the authorities and your family will be in trouble. When I told my father that evening he said , do not ever greet anyone this way, do not be afraid just be yourself, I shall take care of matters such as this.

I never raised my arm for the duration of they years ahead.

Another family lived on the same floor as ours, I would see Prof. Prohaska when he would come in after his daily stroll down the street. He was a very strange man, I thought, since he never looked up or greeted me. His parents who were an older couple told my mother he was an astronomer at the University of Vienna but became very ill with mental problem, he had to retire from teaching. Some time went by when I did not see him any more and I asked his mother where is he? She said some men came and said he needs to be in the hospital as he is very ill. She asked them what hospital, they said we will let you know and took the prof. Away.

They never let her know where they took him , his parents searched every where to find him for months and months

He never came back nor did they ever find him.

Where did he go?? Nobody knew.

Memories when I was a child

It has been half a century and 10 years ago when prisoners where liberated from concentration camps located in Dachau, Germany; Auschwitz, Poland and Mauthausen, Austria.

There is a beautiful memorial in Vienna, Austria, near the same place where once was a farmers market in remembrance of Mauthausen lest we forget
Farmers would bring their fresh vegetables and fruit to the owners of the stands to sell them for the farmers. My mother and I went there several days a week for food she needed. One day I saw some of the owners wear a yellow band with a star on their sleeves. I remember asking my mother what is this they are wearing? She said it is the star of David, they are Jews there religion is different than ours. Will we have to wear an armband too, telling everybody we are Catholics. I asked. She said I do not think so. I than asked what did they do? She answered, they did not do anything.

But every time we came back there were less of them till we did not see a single yellow band any more.
I wondered where they went but no one had an answer.


This was 1938, I was 9 years old

Testing the waters

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