The Sound of Freedom

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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  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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  75

  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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  K A T H Y K A C E R

  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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  K A T H Y K A C E R

  “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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  81

  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