by Kathy Kacer
her forward instead of toward the safety of her home, even as Baba’s troubled face appeared in her mind.
I’ll stop for a second, just to see what’s happening, she thought, curiosity overtaking her. The sounds
close to the crowd were so much louder. Anna raised
herself up on her tiptoes, straining to see above the heads of those who were pressed together in front of her, closer than the bricks in the wall of her home.
From the back of the horde, she couldn’t see a thing.
So she plunged into the crowd, elbowing past women
with their arms raised in the sky and men who
thumped their fists into their open palms. The sight that greeted her at the front made her blood run cold.
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69
The same boys who had painted the Star of David
on Mr. Kaplansky’s store were there again. But his
time, they did not have paint tins in their hands. This was so much worse. This time, they were there to hurt the butcher. The thugs had pushed Mr. Kaplansky to
the ground. They were taunting and mocking him,
shoving his feet out from under him every time
he tried to stand. He fumbled with shaking hands
to keep his glasses on his face. But his skullcap had fallen off his head and he was desperately trying to retrieve it. The young hoodlums would have none of
that. “What’s the matter, old man? Can’t pray with-
out this thing on your head?” The oldest-looking boy in the mob picked up the skullcap and dangled it in
front of Mr. Kaplansky’s face.
Sabina Zabek’s father stood close by, just as he
had the previous time. His hands were on his hips,
his belly bursting out of his uniform. And just like before, he was watching and doing nothing. Anna
turned her head this way and that, praying that someone, anyone, would step in to help Mr. Kaplansky. No one came forward.
The crowd continued to shout, “Get him! Get him!
Get him!” while Anna’s heart thumped along with
the beat of their jeers. She was frozen on the spot. Her face was hot, and a slow tremor was rising up through
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her legs and spreading across the rest of her body.
She raised a shaking hand and was just about to
reach it out to Mr. Kaplansky when she felt someone
snap her arm back to her side. Anna looked up into
a familiar face. It was Mr. Zaleski, the janitor at the music academy. What was Mr. Zaleski doing here?
Was he here to help or also to cause trouble? He
knew that Anna was Jewish. Would he reveal that
to the thugs? Anna knew that this crowd would not
hesitate to turn on her as well, even though she was only a young girl. Why did I stop here? Anna moaned silently as Mr. Zaleski leaned down until his face
was only inches away from hers.
“Go home, Miss Hirsch!” Mr. Zaleski warned in a
low but urgent tone. “Quickly, before anyone else sees you. You don’t want to be here.”
Mr. Kaplansky was moaning on the ground. Anna
yearned to help him, but she knew there was nothing
she could do. The crowd was getting uglier and more
riled up by the second.
“Go!” Mr. Zaleski’s voice cut through Anna’s
thoughts.
With one more helpless look at Mr. Kaplansky,
Anna turned and pushed through the crowd. She ran,
without looking back, until she reached her home.
Chapter
11
Anna flew through the doors of her house and
straight into Baba’s arms. Her hands were shaking
uncontrollably and her breathing came in shallow
gulps. It was several seconds before she could control her body. In the meantime, Baba looked as if she
might pass out.
“Annichka!” Baba shrieked. “What’s wrong? Are
you hurt? Are you sick? Please, you must talk to me.
You’re scaring me!”
It was several more seconds before Anna could say
anything, and when she finally began to speak, the
words came pouring out of her in a continuous stream.
It didn’t matter anymore that this was Baba and Anna had always felt the need to protect her. The scene
she had witnessed on the street was so completely
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overwhelming, so terrifying, that nothing could stop her from pouring out her heart. Baba’s face fell and then fell some more as Anna described seeing the
boys from her school push and hurt Mr. Kaplansky.
“And this was the second time, Baba!” Anna cried.
“I don’t understand why they were going after him
like that.”
Baba opened her mouth as if she was going to
respond, but Anna wasn’t finished yet.
“And the police chief! He seemed to be enjoying
the whole thing. Everyone on the street was acting
as if this was okay—as if they wanted more. Mr.
Kaplansky didn’t do anything wrong. We haven’t done anything wrong. So why is this happening?” On
and on Anna went, until finally, she ran out of words and ran out of energy. Then she simply slumped exhausted against Baba and held on with all her might.
Baba squeezed back, rocking Anna in her arms
just as she used to do when Anna was a child and
had hurt herself on the playground. In those days, a simple hug would have quickly taken away the pain,
made everything fine again. If only that were the
case today.
“Thank goodness you’re safe, Annichka,” Baba
finally said after she had rocked and held Anna for
the longest time. “And we must talk to your father
about all of this. He must know what happened.”
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Anna pulled away from her grandmother. “I know
what Papa’s going to say. He’s going to tell me to keep my head down and stay away from any trouble. He’s
going to say that nothing is going to happen to us.
But he doesn’t know that. He can’t know that! Look what happened to Mr. Kaplansky!”
The truth was that Anna couldn’t talk to her father
these days, not since their argument about leaving
Poland. The man who had always been so strong and
outspoken had become quiet, shrinking away from
his daughter just like he had in the months following her mother’s death.
“Your papa is very troubled by everything,
Annichka. He may not talk about it but I know he’s
worried.”
Being worried just wasn’t enough as far as Anna
was concerned. And maybe the time for talking had
passed. It was time to take action. And there was only one solution that Anna could see.
“Baba, do you remember that violinist, Mr. Huber-
man, the one who is coming to Poland? I just know
that it would solve everything if Papa would agree to audition for him. But so far, Papa has refused to even think about leaving here.”
“I’ve thought so much about that orchestra as
well,” Baba replied.
“You have?”
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Baba nodded, and then looked away as if she
was deep in thought. Finally, she turned back. “You
know,” she began, “maybe there is a way to get your
father to go.”
“But how? He won’t consider going to an audition.
He won’t
even write a letter to Mr. Huberman to ask
for one.”
“Perhaps he doesn’t have to.”
What was Baba talking about? Of course Papa had
to write a letter. As good a musician as he was, no one was going to spontaneously request that he appear in front of Mr. Huberman. Everyone had to apply. It was as simple as that.
Baba smiled. “What I mean is perhaps we can ask
for him.”
“You mean that we should write to Mr. Huber man
for Papa?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
Anna paused and then smiled along with her
grandmother. It was the perfect solution. Why hadn’t she thought of it? She stood up, and without saying
a word, she ran to her bedroom to get some writing
paper. When she returned, Baba was already seated at the desk, pen in hand.
“I saved the newspaper from the night your
father told us about Mr. Huberman,” Baba said. “The
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information about the audition is there. I thought
perhaps it might come in handy.”
Baba was surprising Anna more and more by the
minute. But when it came time to compose the letter, Baba held the pen out to Anna. “You write it,
Annichka,” she pleaded. “I can’t put these words
together. And I don’t know if this famous man will
listen to an old woman like me.”
Anna considered that for a moment. Would Mr.
Huberman pay attention to the appeal of a young
girl? She didn’t think so. “You’re wrong, Baba. You’re the one to write it.” Baba hesitated. “I’ll help you,”
Anna added.
Baba finally nodded in agreement, and the two of
them began to discuss what to include in the letter.
Baba wanted to add all the details of what was
happening to Jews in Krakow.
“I’m sure Mr. Huberman knows these things,”
Anna pointed out. “Why else would he be forming
this orchestra to get Jewish musicians out of the
country?”
Anna wanted to let Mr. Huberman know that
many people were leaving Krakow just like Renata.
But Baba thought that they should focus only on
themselves and their wish to go. It had to be simple and to the point.
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Dear Mr. Huberman,
I am the mother of Avrum Hirsch and I live in
Krakow with my son and granddaughter. My son
is a great clarinetist who teaches at the music
academy and plays in the Krakow Philharmonic
Orchestra. I know that you are holding auditions for a new orchestra that will be formed in Palestine.
I would like you to consider allowing my son to be part of that orchestra.
Baba paused and read back what she had written
so far. That was the formal part of the letter. But now they needed to explain to Mr. Huberman the more
personal part.
I don’t think I have to tell you that it is becoming harder for Jewish families like ours to feel safe in Krakow. My granddaughter has seen things that no child should be seeing. My son thinks that we will be fine and the danger will pass. But I don’t believe that is true. Being a part of your new orchestra would give my family a chance to start over in a safer place.
You may have guessed by now that my son doesn’t
even know that I am writing this letter. But I know that if he gets an audition, he will be there!
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Anna read the whole thing out loud when Baba
was finished writing. “I think there’s one more
thing you should add,” she said. “‘Please allow my
son, Avrum Hirsch, to come and play for you. YOU
WON’T REGRET IT!’”
She asked Baba to put the last sentence in capital
letters so Mr. Huberman would know how serious
they were. Then they read through what Baba had
written one more time, and when they were satis-
fied that they had said everything they wanted to say, Baba signed the letter— With gratitude, Mrs. Helena Hirsch—folded it up, and placed it in an envelope, addressing it according to the instructions in the
newspaper article.
“We don’t have to tell your father anything about
this. Not yet, anyway,” Baba said as she licked a stamp and placed it in the corner of the envelope. “Not that I want to keep secrets from him,” she added quickly.
“Agreed,” Anna said. She and Baba decided they
would not say a word to Papa about their letter
unless they heard back from Mr. Huberman. Until,
then, they would wait.
Chapter
12
Weeks passed, and one day Papa asked Anna to
accompany him to the academy so that he could
gather some music he needed for his students. She
was reluctant to go. She still had a lingering image of the janitor, Mr. Zaleski, who had been there in the middle of the horde that was attacking Mr. Kaplansky weeks earlier. Even though Mr. Zaleski had warned
her to get out of there, a kernel of doubt remained
in her mind about his intentions. Why had he been standing at the front of the mob to begin with? Is he one of them or one of us? But Papa seemed so desperate for her company, and they had not spent much time
together in weeks. In the end, she felt she couldn’t turn him down. On the way to the academy, Anna
found a couple of pale blue and purple crocuses. They 78
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79
were the only colorful flowers in an otherwise ugly, brown patch of dirt—a little burst of life growing
by the side of the road. She had plucked them and
already had plans to press them when she got home.
The hallways of the academy were deserted on
this Sunday morning. As Anna waited outside her
father’s office for him to collect his sheet music, she spied Mr. Zaleski at the far end of the building. He was meticulously cleaning the halls, as he did every weekend. The wood floors shone like an ice skating
rink, and were just as slippery. Mr. Zaleski’s mop
made a squeaking sound as he glided it across the
floors. He looked up and called out to her.
“Good morning, Miss Hirsch.” He lowered his
mop to one side as he approached and pushed the
cap he was wearing back on his head as he scratched
at his forehead. “I was hoping that someone would
arrive to help me clean this place. Are you my
helper?”
He was trying to be playful, greeting her as if
nothing had happened between the two of them.
“Good morning, Mr. Zaleski,” Anna replied, respect-
fully but warily.
The janitor came close to where Anna was stand-
ing. She glanced over her shoulder into Papa’s office.
What was taking him so long?
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“Miss Hirsch?” Mr. Zaleski leaned toward Anna.
“I want you to know something … about that day.”
Anna’s back stiffened. How was he going to
explain himself? Why was he lowering his voice?
Mr. Zaleski looked around as if someone might be
listening, and then he said, “You have to know that
I waited on the street that day until everyone had
left, and then I helped Mr. Kaplansky to his feet and walked him home.” Mr. Zaleski’s voice became even
softer. “I was
there to help, Miss Hirsch. But I knew I couldn’t take the mob on by myself.”
At first, Anna didn’t respond. She stared at Mr.
Zaleski as the realization of what he had just said hit her. He was on their side. He was a friend, just as she had hoped.
“Thank you,” she finally blurted out as she exhaled
a long, deep breath. “That means a lot.”
The janitor grinned—a smile that stretched across
his face. “So,” he continued, “will you help me with the floors, or not?”
This time, Anna laughed. “No, not today, Mr.
Zaleski. But I don’t think you need my help. I can
practically see my reflection in the floor. And it’s blinding me.” She squinted at the floor and then
shielded her eyes for effect.
Mr. Zaleski chuckled. “My wife says I can clean a
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floor better than she can. Well, if you’re not here to help me, then may I ask what you are doing here?
Just because I’m stuck indoors, I don’t think you
need to be. A young girl like you needs to be out
with friends.”
At that moment, Anna’s father emerged from his
office, papers in hand.
“Oh, Mr. Hirsch.” Mr. Zaleski straightened, removed
his cap, and bowed respectfully to Anna’s father.
“Good morning, Mr. Zaleski. Are you well? How
are your wife and children?”
“All very well, sir,” Mr. Zaleski replied. “Is there anything I can get for you?” He placed his mop in a
broom closet that was next to Papa’s office.
Papa placed his papers into his briefcase. “I think
I have everything that I need right here. Anna came
along for company today. But I think we will head
home now. Don’t work too hard, Mr. Zaleski.”
Just then, they heard a bang. The front door at
the end of the hallway had opened and shut, and
inside the building now stood four young men who
began to walk the length of the passage toward
them. Even at a distance, Anna could see the angry
sneers on their faces. They staggered slightly, falling together and then shoving one another to stand up
straight as they strode down the hall. Anna had seen
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men stagger like that when they came out of the pubs in town. She knew immediately that they did not belong in the academy. And as she peered more closely, she realized that a couple of them were the same thugs from her school who had beaten up Mr. Kaplansky