It's You

by Jane Porter

  This afternoon the ocean was a little calmer and Mother and I roused ourselves and went outside to sit on the promenade deck and get some fresh air. While sitting there, she’d commented that she wishes we had splurged and taken the Queen Mary over, certain we would have been more comfortable. One of the gentlemen seated on the deck near us overheard and corrected Mother, saying it’s not the ship’s fault, it’s the sea’s. Mother was most irritated, murmuring to me that men always thought they knew everything and yet isn’t it ironic that women bring life forth.

  July 21, 1937

  We’ve reached Southampton but we don’t disembark here. We have another few days before we’ll reach Hamburg. We are both ready to get off the ship!

  July 24, 1937

  Have checked into a hotel in Hamburg. Mother has one of her headaches and is in bed resting. I’m eager to go explore but don’t feel right leaving Mother alone.

  August 9, 1937

  We can’t possibly attend everything at the Salzburg Music Festival, but Mother and I are certainly going to try! We were poring over the program and we’ve missed quite a few things, but there is still so much in the final three weeks of the festival. Don Giovanni, Faust, Elektra . . . 9 concerts, 4 recitals, 7 serenades and so much more I can’t list now, as I’m very sleepy but also very relaxed. Lovely, lovely Salzburg. So glad now that Mother insisted on bringing me!

  August 17, 1937

  Mother says the revival of Falstaff was the best she’s ever seen. She is enjoying herself enormously. We attend every concert and then when we leave, Mother hums the music for the rest of the evening.

  August 21, 1937

  Saw the most gorgeous production tonight of Die Zauberflöte. Eight more days before our little holiday together ends.

  August 23, 1937

  Mother was crying tonight during the concert. At intermission I tried to get her to tell me what’s wrong. She said this has been the happiest she’s been in a long time. I didn’t know what to say. I had always thought she was so very happy with Father.

  August 27, 1937

  Today is our last day in Salzburg. The porter has taken our luggage already to the train station so we are off to buy a few souvenirs for Mother to take home with her.

  On the train in our car. While shopping earlier, Mother confided that as much as she loves Father, she wishes she had continued her music, and would have if I hadn’t come along (!!). No wonder she is so excited that I am enrolled at Hoch.

  September 3, 1937

  Settled into my little apartment in Frankfurt. Mother takes the train tomorrow to Hamburg and then sails home soon. We had a silly argument today about jazz music, of all things. Mother commented that she didn’t like swing and jazz and found it grating to the ear. I told her that America loves big band and jazz and swing, just look at the popularity of Tommy and Jimmy Dorsey but she dismissed Tommy as merely a trombonist, not a true musician.

  I don’t mind if she doesn’t like new music, but she doesn’t have to be such a snob.

  September 9, 1937

  Mother has been gone for six days now and I’m settling in. Food is simple but tasty. The Germans like to eat. And drink.

  September 14, 1937

  I can see why Father spoke well of Frankfurt am Main. It’s a large city and well located with an excellent train station for travel. He, of course, would appreciate the convenience. I’ve enjoyed discovering the city on the weekends, and would find it easier to fall in love with Frankfurt if one wasn’t subjected to all the politics. In the US, no one expected Hitler to find any real support, but he is still here, and seemingly more influential than ever.

  September 28, 1937

  Much discussion this afternoon among the students during tea about the legitimacy of women conductors and composers. According to Walther there have been very few truly gifted female musicians. Renate retorted that she supposed Clara Schumann was no one?

  Everyone laughed (except for Walther) as Clara was one of the most famous of all Hoch’s faculty, and helped the conservatory achieve international acclaim. Renate and I boldly replied there have been a number of great women musicians to have studied, or graduated, from Hoch like Ethel Leginska, and Ruth Schönthal, but Walther crushingly shot back that Schönthal attended the Stern in Berlin, not Hoch, and from all the crowing of the boys, Walther had apparently won that round.

  I dislike Walther more and more. And yet he is a brilliant composer.

  October 6, 1937

  One of Father’s friends, Henry Rich, who once worked with Father in Cairo, but now works at the American embassy in Hungary was in Frankfurt and he took me to dinner last night as Father asked him to check on me. We had a very nice dinner, even if I did have a little too much wine and woke up with a headache.

  Mr. Rich gave me his number at the chancery and made me promise to call should I need anything.

  I told him thank you, but I didn’t expect to have any problems. He gave me a long look and said quite flatly, “Things are going to get much worse here, before they get better.”

  October 18, 1937

  It’s my 18th birthday today. Several of my classmates surprised me with an impromptu birthday concert this morning. Herr Volk disapproved but at the same time, he didn’t stop the brief concert. After class ended, a number of us went for coffee and cakes. One of the girls presented me with a small gift from everyone—a locket wrapped in a lace handkerchief, and the locket is lovely with intricate locks and silverwork. It looks quite old, too, and the girls tell me they got it for an excellent price at the flea market last weekend as the seller was desperate. She was trying to buy a ticket on one of the steamer ships for her son, so he could go to Chicago to join her brother there. She wanted to send all her children but she could only afford to send the one.

  I do love the locket but the story behind it is quite sad. I am quite sure the mother desperate to sell the locket is a Jew, but I say nothing to the girls. They were trying very hard to do something nice for me.

  October 21, 1937

  Had a very unpleasant exchange with Walther who thinks any music that is not German should no longer be taught in Germany, and holds Wagner and Bruckner up as the greatest composers of the 19th century. I personally don’t respond to all the Teutonic heaviness but then again, as Walther mentioned, I’m not German.

  October 30, 1937

  It is Walther’s life ambition to write a symphony for “der Führer.” I shouldn’t be surprised. He is a rabid nationalist.

  Sieg Heil! Sieg Heil! Sieg Heil!

  Sigh.

  I should probably care more about politics but I’m uncomfortable with the zealots surrounding me.

  November 15, 1937

  Not sure why I thought Hoch would be the best music program for me. There is no freedom, and certainly no freedom of expression. Creativity is unheard of here. One can’t do something new. One must only copy the “German masters.” Yes, it’s the thing to study music here in Europe, particularly in Germany, and all the important American composers continue to come here to study the dead “Bs” (Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms), but I’m not a dead German man and I don’t even know if I want to compose music anymore. But if I do, this isn’t where I want to study.

  November 25, 1937

  I wrote a long letter today to Mother and Father about my studies here in Frankfurt. I don’t want to leave Europe, but I don’t think the Hoch is the right place for me with its emphasis on Wagner. I so much prefer German romanticism and am hopeful the Stern Conservatory in Berlin might have room for me.

  I am writing to Herr Kittel, the Stern’s director today, and am enclosing some of the pieces I have composed, along with some of my papers from Hoch.

  December 8, 1937

  Received a reply from Director Kittel. If I am serious, I must go to Berlin and audition.

  December 10, 1937

  Mother replied to my letter regarding the Stern. She said “absolutely not.”

  December 14, 1937

  I wr
ote Herr Kittel asking when I could come audition. I mentioned that I was free for three weeks over the Christmas holidays. I then wrote to Mother and Father about my studies at the Hoch. I laid out a most intelligent but passionate argument as to why I must change schools.

  December 21, 1937

  I will be spending Christmas in Berlin!

  December 23, 1937

  Letter from Mother today. She said no. No, no, no, no. And Father supports Mother.

  I’m going to Berlin anyway. I have to audition.

  January 2, 1938

  Had the most wonderful holiday in Berlin. I absolutely love the city. The theater scene is still very vibrant despite all. Can’t imagine what Mother would say if she knew I not only auditioned for Herr Kittel, but attended a New Year’s Eve party at the Adlon.

  January 6, 1938

  Not happy back at school. It’s beyond dull. Want to be back in Berlin.

  January 8, 1938

  I didn’t get in. I’m so disappointed.

  January 11, 1938

  I really don’t want to be here anymore. I want to be in Berlin. Have written privately to Father expressing my desire to do something else but haven’t had a response yet.

  January 20, 1938

  Still not happy but at least this semester I have an instructor that studied with Schoenberg in Vienna as part of the Zweite Wiener Schule, and he is introducing us to totally chromatic expression, as well as Schoenberg’s serial twelve-tone technique. I’m not sure I’m comfortable composing without firm tonal center, but I’m fascinated by Schoenberg’s creativity.

  February 13, 1938

  German troops have been entering Austria since yesterday. Germans aren’t concerned, as both Germans and Austrians (including those belonging to the Nazi party and those who don’t) have being calling for a Heim ins Reich, for years. Many view this as the natural order for things, and as Walther reminds everyone constantly, if Hitler can accomplish so much in Germany in such a short period of time, just imagine what he can do for Austria?

  March 13, 1938

  Anschluss dominates the headlines in today’s paper. Austria has formally been annexed to Germany today. Reports say that ninety-some percent of Austrians voted in favor of the annexation. I wonder if that’s true . . .

  May 15, 1938

  Yesterday England’s football team defeated Germany’s, 6-3 and the Germans are protesting, crying foul.

  Apparently Germans are supposed to win everything.

  Perhaps England didn’t know?

  June 18, 1938

  The world is full of news of hate and aggression. Jews are being attacked and their property in Poland confiscated. The Nazis can confiscate art from “degenerates.” Japan has declared war on China. It’s better not to listen to the news. I get terrible knots in my stomach and feel sick all day.

  August 16, 1938

  Attending the Salzburg Festival with Frieda, Katrina, and Boris from Hoch, but the atmosphere is remarkably different from last year’s. Hitler’s soldiers are everywhere, creating an overwhelming, and oppressive presence. Worse, Jedermann—which has been part of the festival since the beginning—has been banned, along with my favorite, Faust. The music festival has come under the jurisdiction of the Nazi party so anything associated with a Jewish musician or composer is forbidden. Of course there are new productions of Wagner and Mozart to take the place of the banned productions.

  And of course Hitler would idolize Wagner. Wagner himself was anti-Semitic. Thank goodness I am American and not German.

  August 30, 1938

  Met two brothers from San Antonio, Texas who have grown up spending most of their summers in Bavaria with their grandparents, and always attend the festival with them before returning to Texas, but don’t expect to return next year, due to politics.

  They were quite shocked that I am here, on my own. I explained that I am not on a grand European tour but studying music at the Hoch. They still found it shocking, and I don’t know if they thought it indulgent (in view of American citizens being warned that they should not travel in war zones) or simply too dangerous.

  I was annoyed at the time, but now I wonder if they know something I do not.

  I don’t feel in jeopardy here. But then again, I am not an undesirable.

  September 2, 1938

  Tonight’s radio broadcasts announce that Mussolini has declared that Jews in Italy have no rights.

  So he, too, is now targeting the Jews.

  I think back on my education and my first music teachers in Mexico were Jewish emigrants. And again, in Chile and Cairo, there were teachers and musicians who helped my studies.

  How can people fear them?

  And yet, I dare not say anything here, because I am clearly in the minority. But what is happening in the world? And when will it end?

  September 10, 1938

  Walther has not returned to Hoch. He has joined Hitler’s SS.

  I am surprised. He loved his music but I suppose he loves der Führer more. At the same time, it will be a relief not to have to listen to him lecture us girls on our proper place and responsibility (that women should be wives and mothers . . . producing the next generation . . . filling the Reich’s nurseries with blond-haired, blue-eyed infants . . .).

  Maybe I should go home. But if I go home, I will not know what happens here.

  October 1, 1938

  The German radio announced tonight that it has annexed the Sudetenland to the Reich, as all ethnic Germans belong to Germany.

  October 30, 1938

  Spirited debate tonight over tea regarding the American Archbishop Beckman from nowhere Iowa, declaring swing music the “music of the devil.” Apparently all those who listen, or dance to it, are going to hell.

  I am constantly amazed, and disappointed, by the ignorance of people.

  Must write to Mother. I know she’s not a fan of swing, but I think she’ll be amused, if not dismayed, by Beckman’s condemnation.

  November 9, 1938

  Violence throughout Germany and Austria today as Jews were beaten, arrested, and murdered in retaliation for the assassination of the German diplomat, vom Rath, in Paris by a young Jew. I don’t know how many were killed, but by all accounts, it was close to one hundred.

  November 10, 1938

  I walked out of my theory class when Berthold said that the only bad thing about Kristallnacht was that more Jews weren’t murdered.

  November 15, 1938

  Goering announced earlier in the week that he thinks all Jews should go to Madagascar. That Madagascar should be their homeland. I laughed when I first heard the statement—does Goering even know where Madagascar is? And then I realized but of course he does. And I nearly cried.

  Things are becoming very bad and no one is doing anything.

  Tragically, I think Hitler understands far too well that “might is right.”

  TWELVE

  Ali

  I take Ruth to the dentist late Monday morning. Edie comes with us but she and I don’t speak. I hold Ruth’s hand as we leave the car and walk to the office. And then once I’ve signed her in and filled out the paperwork, I again hold her hand until they call her name. I carefully walk her back to the chair, and make sure she’s comfortable. Later when she’s relaxed, I return to the waiting room. Edie is staring at the TV screen; the sound is muted so she’s just watching the images.

  I reach for a magazine and flip through it.

  At the moment we are the only two people in the waiting room but we don’t talk. We haven’t said a word directly to each other since the other day. It’s not a comfortable silence now and part of me would like to apologize but another part is still angry.

  • • •

  An hour later, Ruth’s procedure finished, I walk her to the car, keeping a close eye on Edie who clearly doesn’t want any help from me.

  “Thank you, Sophie dear,” Ruth says, patting my hand as I assist her buckling her seat belt once inside the car.

  “You’re
welcome, Ruth.”

  Driving, I glance into the rearview mirror, checking on Ruth and Edie who are in the backseat together. Ruth is looking out the window while Edie stares straight ahead.

  “Are you feeling okay, Ruth?” I ask.

  “Yes, dear.”

  “Nothing hurts?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” I focus on the road, and we travel a mile along the same street, eventually slowing for a red light.

  As we sit at the intersection I hear Ruth sigh with pleasure. “Look at all those beautiful flowers,” she says, focusing on the flower stand. “Aren’t they lovely?”

  “They are,” I agree.

  “You like flowers, don’t you, Ruth?” Edie says.

  “I do.”

  I glance again into the rearview mirror. “Do you want to stop and have a closer look?”

  Ruth nods. “Oh, yes, please.”

  I signal and pull into the gravel parking lot. Ruth is eager to get out of the car but Edie doesn’t move. I think she’s going to stay behind but at the last moment she unclicks her seat belt and swings her door open and carefully climbs out.

  “Do you need an arm?” I ask Edie.

  “No. Just pay attention to Ruthie.”

  I give Edie a tight smile, refusing to let a crabby old lady get me down, and escort Ruth to the stand, aware of Edie following slowly behind us.

  The woman inside the flower stand greets us. I tell her we’ve stopped to admire her beautiful flowers. She tells us to take our time.

  Ruth pauses to examine the long-stemmed red roses. “My mother always had the most beautiful rose garden,” she says. “Red and white roses.”

  “My mother loved roses, too,” I tell her.

  She looks at me. “My mother was a dancer. A ballerina.”

  “My mother was a teacher.”