K I N E T I C S DE S IG N

THE ART of BOOK DESIGN

DANIEL CRACK AOCAD

CREATIVE DIRECTOR

daniel@kdbooks.ca www.kdbooks.ca

Fa m i ly H i s t o ry B o o k s

ClotH BoND HarD CoVEr WitH GolD ENGraVED titlE aND DEBossED pHoto

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אמא עם אדש ומוניק

My mother and my two older brothers – Joseph and Adam

The Little Girl with the Big Books:Malka Tells Her Tale

MAlkA’s Journey

הילדה הקטנה עם הספרים הגדולים סבתא מלכה מספרת

הילדה הקטנה עם הספרים הגדולים סבתא מלכה מספרת

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Introduction Malka’s stories of her wartime experiences were stories Malka rarely shared with us. They were snapshots that gave us glimpses of what it was like for her as a child. On rare occasions she would describe her family’s escape from Poland to Russia, her life with her mother and brother, their struggles and their eventual journey from Russia to Germany and then to Israel. In November 2010, Tsipi sat down with Malka and acted as Malka’s scribe as she struggled to tell her whole story. Malka’s story does not follow a linear path of events. We believe this is attributable to the nature of the memories, the fact that she had not spoken about them out loud (although we believe she thought about them often), possibly because she brought a child’s perspective to recounting the memories, as well as to the passage of time. Malka would add details as she remembered them during the telling of her story. On a few occasions, the memories were so difficult, she could not continue and Malka and Tsipi had to take a break.

We decided to leave Malka’s journey in the raw form in which it was told by Malka to Tsipi. We did not edit or change the stories themselves because her memories of the events are more impor-tant than their historical or chronological accuracy. This book is important to us because it lays out the roots of Malka’s resilience and strength, which she was required to call on time and again in a lifetime marked by adversity, but also by love.

This book is dedicated to Malka’s memory as well as to her family who loved her and received so much from her.

Tsipi and VeredEsther Rachel and Avraham – my parents

אסתר רחל ואברהם ההורים שלי

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Every summer, we would rent a farmer’s cottage in the hills of Swartzvillden in an area called the Black Forest, for two months. In this picture taken during one summer, my older brother Joseph is the child standing on the right, Ignesh, the son of my aunt and uncle Dorka and Maurice Teitelbaum is sitting on the bench. Next to Ignesh is me, Karola that is my given name. Next to me is my little brother Natek (Nathan). On the left are the farmers, my nanny, Skivinska, is sitting on the bench on the left and next to her is my cousin Joseph,

הנה אבא שלי עם בגדים לבנים ואנחנו האחים: מוניק,נתק ואני על הסוס.

In this picture, my father is wearing white and my two brothers and I are on the horse.

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My  father,  Abraham  Waldbaum,  before  the  war.  

אבא שלי, אברהם, לפני המלחמה.

My  mother,  Esther  Rachel,  in  Israel.    

אמא שלי, אסתר רחל בישראל.  

 

My  father,  Abraham  Waldbaum,  before  the  war.  

אבא שלי, אברהם, לפני המלחמה.

My  mother,  Esther  Rachel,  in  Israel.    

אמא שלי, אסתר רחל בישראל.  

 

My father, Abraham Waldbaum,

before the war.

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30 31 32

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With workers from the Labour Movement. I am in the center under the flag.

א"עם העובדים באונר - אני במרכז מתחת לדגל.  

iNtErior paGEs iN oriGiNal HEBrEW aND ENGlisH traNslatioN WitH pHotos aND DoCumENts

Manci presenting witness testimony during Holocaust week in 2007 in Toronto

Manci’s 2007 Holocaust week testimony acknowledgement

tHE Book Has 4 sECtioNs: tHE Family History,a traNslatioN oF maGDolNa

HErCz’s Diary WrittEN iN 1945 7 moNtHs aFtEr HEr liBEratioN

From tHE CoNCENtratioN Camps, HEr HusBaND tiBEriu’s iNtErViEW

WitH tHE usC sHoaH FouNDatioN aND Family GENEaloGy trEEs

tHE Book Was priNtED iN HarD CoVEr aND pErFECt BoND EDitioNs

aND DistriButED DirECtly to Family mEmBErs arouND tHE WorlD

14

Manci’s Story

Magdolna Herczwith Bernadette Hardaker

Manci in Nagyvárad, May 1940

16 17

Early Days

I was a tiny child, pale and skinny, and spoiled, the youngest of three daughters, the sixth of eight children – so small my mother kept a tiny blue cup and plate especially for me. she loved to dress me up in pretty clothes and to tie my blonde curls with fancy ribbons. My tears brought her to my defence if one of my younger brothers stole a plaything. she was always so elegant, beautifully dressed, capable and caring, but there was nothing she could do the day we stood before Dr. Mengele. she was only fifty-five. The last view I have of her is looking over her shoulder, overwhelmingly sad, as she is pushed into a crowd of women and children. I had no idea I would never see her again.

And now, I am past ninety, the youngest of my family, and the only one left. How could I go through so much and still survive? Not a day goes by, not one day in my life since I was a young woman of twenty-four, that I do not remember some detail of my past, some good, some bad. sometimes, when I wake up in the morning or in the middle of the night, the memories are as clear as if they were still happening. I do not cry anymore. I did for years and years. I still get sad, but only until I remember what a blessing my life has been with my family, my good husband, my two sons, and my five grandsons. I live in the best country in the world. I never could have imagined having such a good life as I have had in Canada.

My father was Lajos szmuk. Generations ago, his family originally came from spain via Poland, but they had been in Transylvania for years by the time I was born in 1920 in sighet.9 Yet my grandfather, Juda szmuk, still attended the sephardic synagogue in sighet, which was not as strict as the Orthodox one.

My Romanian grandmother, Feige szmuk, was tall and thin, very much a lady. Every year she travelled to the hot springs in Karlsbad, in 9 Sighet or Máramarossziget is Sighetu Marmaţiei today (just Sighet until 1964).

It was Hungarian pre-WWI, becoming Romanian after WWI, then returning to Hungary during WWII and back again to Romania after the war’s end.

Manci with her brothers and sisters in Sighet, May 20, 1925 – from left: Bözsi, Manci(with bow), Pali, Jenö, Lázár, Miki and Ella supporting Öcsi

Regina (Rivka) (née Wolf) (1889–1944) and Lajos (Ludovic, Yoel)

Szmuk (1878–1944), Manci’s parents

36 37

Wagon

NORMALLY, it takes only five minutes to get to Rhédey Park, but the weight of that day made the walk much farther. The Hungarian gendarmes stood by as the Germans counted again. Precisely eighty persons were pushed into a freight car fit for half a dozen cattle. The heavy door bolted shut.

It was dark inside. At first we did not know what to do, and then instinctively we began to settle. Nails appeared and were pounded into the wall of the wagon. Extra clothes were hung and bags arranged to create just enough room to sit. There was no way to stretch. A bucket in the middle of the floor was our lavatory. Most of us were too ashamed to use it. We felt blind, trapped, hopeless. The train left about ten on Wednesday morning. At first we thought they were taking us west to work in the coalfields of Transdanubia, but it quickly became apparent we were heading north. By day sweat poured off us. I stripped down to a light summer shift. At night we were chilled to the bone. Mama and Papa leaned against the wagon wall, with my brother Öcsi and me facing them. I rested my head in Mama’s lap. How happy I would be to feel her gentle hand stroke my hair once more.

Thursday the heat was unbearable and there was little water. For the second day, no food.

On Friday morning we arrived in Kassa (Košice13) on the northern frontier of Hungary. Thinking we were getting out, we dressed. When the train stopped and the doors opened, we gasped as we were slapped with fresh air. Railway workers told us we were now in the hands of the Germans. My father whispered, “We are lost.”

One last time, the Hungarian thieves yelled at us to give up anything of value or the soldiers would shoot us. We handed over Papa’s watch and some money, while I fingered the gold chain and locket Tibi had

13 Košice is part of Slovakia today. It was reclaimed by Hungary between 1938 and 1945.

KarlsbadLviv

Rivne

Warsaw

Berlin

Budapest

Vienna

Bucharest

Sighet

Timișoara

HusztVisk

Lake Balaton

Breslau

Tataros

Portion of Transylvania annexed by Hungary from Aug. 30, 1940 to October 17, 1944

Germany

Ukraine

Belarus

Poland

Hungary

Slovakia

Austria

Croatia

Czech Republic

Romania

Serbia

Bosnia and Herzegovina 100 km

N

Manci’s concentration camp route Manci’s homeward journeyTibi’s forced labour route Route stops Waypoints (no stop)

Kassa

Auschwitz

Prague

Reichenbach

Trautenau

Nagyvárad(Oradea)

Returned by train to Oradea, arrived June 3, 1945

Taken by train to Reichenbach, August 1944

Taken by train to Zwittau, February 1945

Forced march to Trautenau (80 km), January 1945

Liberated May 8-9, 1945

Returned by train to Prague, May13, 1945

Zwittau

Kraków

Returned by train to Bielsko (mid-portion by foot)

Bielsko

NagybányaBorsa

Prislop Pass

Tibi’s forced-labour battalion march, 1942–1944

Manci deported to Auschwitz by train on May 31, 1944, arrived on June 3, 1944

Former Current Nagyvárad Oradea, RomaniaTataros Brusturi, RomaniaNagybánya Baia Mare, RomaniaSighet Sighetu Marmației, RomaniaBorsa Borșa, Romania Kassa Košice, SlovakiaAuschwitz Oświęcim, Poland

Former Current Reichenbach Dzierżoniów, PolandTrautenau Trutnov, Czech RepublicZwittau Svitavy, Czech RepublicBielsko Bielsko-Biała, PolandHuszt Khust, UkraineVisk Vyshkovo, UkraineKarlsbad Karlovy Vary, Czech Republic

Key to Place Names

Manci’s and Tibi’s War Routes

40 41

Electrified fence at Auschwitz (photo: Oren Hercz)

42 43

Lagers

THE striped men pushed hard, but I held fast to Mama’s arm. They yelled at us to leave everything, but I grabbed some bread. Instinct compelled me to give her the large piece and to whisper, “Hide it under your coat.” I kept the smaller piece. I watched several of the men run back to their women to say goodbye. What for? We’ll see them again this evening. I saw the giant chimney and the iron slogan over the gates, Arbeit Macht Frei, (work makes you free), but knew little of what either meant for us.

In the crowd we met our neighbour, Mrs. Tuvel, poor woman, struggling with her four children. she asked me to take one of them, but Mama pulled me away, saying, “Leave them.” We also found some Czech cousins from my mother’s side, the salamons: Bözsi and her mother, and another younger cousin, Peszi14, who lived with them. Bözsi had a child who cried incessantly. The other cousin, Peszi, took the two-year-old in her arms. As we pushed forward, it was difficult to see what was up ahead. The sky was starting to lighten, but the flood-lights made it as bright as noon. The electric fences thrummed.

Then we were in front of a uniformed man who I later found out was the infamous Dr. Josef Mengele.15 He had such an eye. How did he know to ask my cousin holding the baby, “Who is the mother of the child?” When she pointed to her cousin, Mengele said, “Give it to the mother.” Bözsi, her baby, and her mother were pushed to the left, Peszi to the right.

suddenly, I felt a hand separate me from my mother, pulling me to the right as well. I screamed and sobbed, “Mama!” I looked back and

14 Peszi survived the war and Manci had a chance to reunite with her again in Florida. 15 Dr. Josef Mengele, a German SS officer, was one of the physicians in Auschwitz who

supervised the selection of arriving prisoners, determining who was to go to the gas chambers and who was to become a slave labourer, hence his nickname, “Angel of Death.” He is also infamous for his medical experimentation on inmates, especially twins. http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/article.php?ModuleId=10007060

The infamous Auschwitz gate through which Manci entered on June 3, 1944 (photo: Oren Hercz)

78

Most Terrifying Year

Manci’s 1945 memoir (Translated from Hungarian)

80 81

IN the quiet surroundings of our own home, I shall write of this year, which has been the most terrifying one in our lives. It is 1945, Aug. 15, so I am not yet old. I am still alive. For however long, and in whatever circum-stances, what lies ahead will still not be as terrifying. I shall try to write the truth about what I have lived through, but I know that if someone actually reads it, they will not be able to feel it the way it happened.

My dear Tibi, whom I adore with all my heart, and who became my husband, had been in forced labour since 1942, causing me a lot of stress, which I have always tried to hide from my parents – but without success, since a parent’s eye can see a long way off. I was married in April, 1944. The German thieves came the following week. I remember clearly that it was a sunday evening when Öcsi came and told us the news they had arrived. Poor father was in despair imagining the dark future that awaited us.

We were terribly frightened, and had reason to be. They began closing stores and taking people away to city hall, beating them to death. There began to be talk of taking the Jewish girls off to forced labour. We had heard that in slovakia they had taken them to the soldiers at the front, something I became convinced of later at Auschwitz. I wrote to my Tibi that the wives of forced laborers were exempt from this, and he somehow managed to come home for seven days, and we had our civil wedding ceremony, in which we took no pleasure, given how things stood on April 23, 1944.

I recall a scene from the day before Passover. There was a synagogue at the end of the street where we lived. It was early morning. Out of nowhere we heard the rumbling of trucks. Right away we knew that Germans had collected people and loaded them on the trucks. Through the window where I was standing with my parents, we watched as two

126 127

YRegina (Rivka) + YLajos Ludovic (Yoel) Wolf Szmuk 1889-1944 1878-1844 Huszt Sighet

Magdolna + Tiberiu (Manci) (Tibi) Szmuk Hercz 1920- 1914-2005

Yakov + Judit ( Jenö) Lövinger Szmuk 1921-2011 1925-1987

Eliezer (Lázár) Szmuk

1917-1984

Lawrence + Anna (Loránd) Mozes Hercz 1946- 1947-

Gavril + Erika (Gábor) Engel Hercz 1953- 1956-

Yoel + Lina Sharon Bali 1946- 1948-

Ella + Yakob Szmuk (Kubi) Szmuk 1910-1938 1899-1973

Miki + Lonci Szmuk Zelikovich 1912-1992

Elisabet + Yakob (Bözsi) (Kubi) Szmuk Szmuk 1914-2008 1899-1973

Pali + Erzsi Szmuk Kálmán 1916-2004 1919-1981

Tali + Avi Sharon Cotter 1972- (Keinan)

Adam Engel Hercz

1991-

Aya Keinan

1999-

Yuli Keinan

2007-

Kati + BenZion Szmuk Gottlieb 1929- 1922-

Eva + Avram Szmuk (Nemo) 1932-1987 Shaked 1930-2003

Peter + Nitza Szmuk Metzger 1942- 1945-

Smadar + Eitan (Sonia) Peled Szmuk 1945- 1944-

Peter + Rosa Stone Friedlander 1944- 1947-

Dorit + Steven Gottlieb Silver 1954- 1954-

Carrie Silver

1980-

Michael Silver

1983-

Avi + Lorraine Gottlieb Schmeizer 1958- 1958-

Monique Gottlieb

1988-

Garrett Gottlieb

1990-

Austin Gottlieb

1992-

Ramon Szmuk

1982-

Jonat Peled

1970-

Ofrit Peled

1972-

Moran Peled

1978-

Lital + Roy Szmuk Fabian 1971-

Emanuel Fabian

2004

Yoel + Dina Sharon Marrache 1949- 1955-

Mika Keinan

2004-

YErvin Ernö (Öcsi)

Szmuk 1922-1944

Sasha Engel Hercz

1993-

Ophir + Dvora Sharon Cohen 1975- 1976-

Liah Sharon

2009-

Itay Sharon

2011-

Gabriella Shaked

1953-

Michal + Baruch Shaked Gefen 1961- 1957-

Itamar Rotmansh

1983-

Itay + Nurit Sharon Grunspan 1977 1975-

Yaniv Sharon

1979-

Danielle Sharon

1987-

Shai Sharon

2008-

Omer Sharon

2010-

Noam Sharon

2010-

Noa Raz + Harel Zehavi Zehavi 1979- 1981-

Guy Gefen

1991-

Omer Gefen

1988-

Tamara + Takeshi Stone Takahashi 1974-

Deborah + Michael Stone Feierstein 1975-

Joseph Keller

2005-

Samantha Keller

2008-

Rachel Feierstein

2003-

Haley Feierstein

2005-

Or Tamar

2014-

Oren + Caitlin Hercz Rooney 1979- 1982-

Lilah Rooney

Hercz2009-

Hazel Rooney

Hercz2012-

Finlay Rooney

Hercz2013-

Daniel Hercz

1987-

Amos + Rimma Hercz Orenman 1975- 1983-

Vera + Uzi (Rivka) Rozenberg Szmuk 1952- 1950-

Yonathan + Reut Rozenberg Rozenberg 1979- 1981-

Adam Rozenberg

2012-

Yael Rozenberg

2013-

Manci’s Siblings Family Tree

Y Perished in the Holocaust

Family Trees

24 25

discussed what should be done. It was decided that Kubi should marry my other sister, Bözsi (Elisabet), who was so different from the respon-sible Ella. Bözsi was fun-loving and enjoyed cooking and she would take good care of Kubi and the girls. six weeks later, there was a quiet wedding in my father’s house, after which Bözsi and her new family returned to Budapest.

We were never very political. It was not prudent to be political if you were Jewish, especially after Hitler came to power in Germany. I will never forget the sadness on my father’s face just months after Ella’s death, in November 1938, when he came back from a business trip to Germany. He witnessed the broken windows in Jewish shops, saw the smouldering synagogues and heard the stories of people dragged away in the night. We did not talk about what happened, but I know

it changed him because things in general had started to change. With the outbreak of war, it became harder for him to travel and his business suffered. We heard vague rumours of disturbing things happening to Jews in other parts of Europe as well, but nobody believed it could happen here. Even after August 1940, when Germany returned Transylvania to Hungary and the Hungarians began conscripting Jewish men into labour battalions, we did not think things could get much worse. Although my Tibi was taken to the mountains to do hard labour in 1943, my brothers went in very different directions.

Miki, the eldest of the boys and eight years older than me, had gone to Budapest to apprentice with Aunt Irma in the fur business. He was a

Manci’s eldest sister Ella’s wedding (Sighet 1927). Children seated in front, from left, are Öcsi, Lázár, Manci, Pali, Jenö. Back row, standing , is Lajos (Yoel) Szmuk

(just behind Regina Szmuk) and first from right is Manci’s brother Miki. Sitting behind Manci is her grandfather Abraham Wolf.

Front row, from left: Öcsi, Manci, Jenö Back row: Lazar, Bozsi, Pali, Nagyvárad, 1932

iNtErior paGEs

my storyThe Parts Fit

Fred Leslie

Th

e Pa

rT

s F

iT m

y story F

red L

eslie

The Canada Cartage fleet lined up in front of the Coliseum on the CNE grounds, Toronto, circa 1950.

“The most profound change in my life came the day I met Donna. I don’t know where

I’d be today without her. She’s been my support, my

motivator – she gives me the love I need and we share four wonderful children and eight

fantastic grandchildren.”

Bala Bay, July, 2014

“The first twelve years of my life might have been a little disruptive, but everything that happened to me I’m thankful for. I don’t know

why I was able to cope better than some foster children; perhaps it was because I’ve

always been an optimist and believe that tomorrow will

be better than today.”

paNoramiC jaCkEt WitH BluE ClotH BoND HarD CoVEr CasE

~ 8 ~ ~ 9 ~

Th e ParTs FiT

CHApTer 1

So Many Unknowns

THERE weren’t a lot of opportunities to shine when I was a boy. The basic necessities were covered, but there were no frills – no lessons, no sports, no trips – even homework help was an extra. It’s no wonder that I felt most secure with my back pressed against the woodwork. Don’t stand out. Don’t make trouble. Don’t move. Be on your best behaviour and maybe you’ll find a home.

My name is Fred Leslie, but that wasn’t the name I was born with. Until I was in high school I was Fred Canlett, ward of the Toronto Children’s Aid Society. Back then, there were so many unknowns in my life, so many puzzle pieces that didn’t seem to fit. For example, for my first nine years, I thought I was born on July 11, 1934 when really I should have been celebrating six days later on July 17th. Until I was fourteen, I didn’t even know I had a middle name – Thomas. In fact, the social workers at the CAS knew more about me than I did. Even now, in my 81st year, there are questions that remain unanswered.

As Fred Canlett, I’d been told I had no family and that my mother was dead, which is how I became a ward. I knew that’s what I was only because Ward was a term the workers used, though it meant little to my schoolmates. They were merely curious to know why my last name differed from the foster parents who kept me. Their curiosity I could manage, but my own longing to know more about my past was always in the background. I didn’t dwell on it, but it was there and when I asked the workers, more often than not, they brushed aside my questions.

Mostly I lived day-to-day, preoccupied with not spoiling my current situation, being on my best behaviour, and constantly wondering if whichever family I happened to be living with might keep me.

That’s me on the right with my first friend, Michael, at Christie Pits, 1938.

~ 58 ~

Th e ParTs FiT

CHApTer 10

Children of Our Own

AFTER the wedding, Donna gave up her government job and joined a private practice. She was making more money than I was. The plan was to enjoy our life for a couple of years and then start a family. We both wanted children. We didn’t know how many. We thought we’d just see what happened. Within eight months we were expecting Heather. In November of 1960, we moved from our apart-ment on 205F St. Stephen’s Court (four buildings from where we live now at 30 Anglesey Boulevard) and bought a three-bedroom bungalow on 21 West Deane Valley Drive, a block and half from friends in the 20 Club. We welcomed our first child, Heather, on

A moment in time. Heather, Kimberley, Rodger, me, Donna, and Susan, on Broadfield Drive, late 1970s.

That’s me, the Proud Papa, with Grandma Leslie and my dad in 1961. That’s Heather on her Great-Grandma Leslie’s lap.

~ 74 ~ ~ 75 ~

Th e ParTs FiT

CHApTer 12

The Company

ONE thing about owning a transport company – nothing is hidden in a vault or on a computer. It’s very visual. you can see a lot of it and say, “See that truck? The company that owns that truck was started by your great-great-grandfather.” of course, that only goes over so far. Kids aren’t really interested in corporate history until maybe a little later on. Then the question becomes, “Why did you get rid of it?” We did what was best for the business at the time, considering the age of the two owners. I really don’t have any other special way of describing it to them if they were to ask me; I’d tell them the story of what happened.

In the early days, the company provided dedicated delivery services for big companies like Sears or A & P. And then as highways opened and stores decentralized, they demanded further coverage and we grew through mergers and acquisitions until Canada Cartage today has terminals from Quebec City to Vancouver Island.

u u u

For my first quarter century with the company, I worked for my father. He was the boss. I was way down the ladder, but I wanted to please him because I wanted to get ahead. We’d talk in the car on the way home at night, while he dropped off two or three drivers along the way. My grandfather may have had a chauffeur, but not my Dad. It was not his style. He drove almost until the day he died.

I had the greatest admiration for my father. He cared deeply about the people who worked for him. We were constantly lending people money because they didn’t have it. If money was loaned, we took it out of their pay over a period of two or three months and didn’t charge them any interest. That’s just what you did. Whether it was,

~ 34 ~ ~ 35 ~

Th e ParTs FiT

CHApTer 6

Home

DURING my first term at St. Andrew’s, the family moved from Harvard Avenue to 61 Kingsway Crescent, where I lived the longest – from 1948 to 1956. That house marked many major milestones in my new life. I went from St. Andrew’s to Shaw’s and night school at the University of Toronto, started work with the company, joined Kingsway-Lambton Church and met Donna. Perhaps most signifi-cantly, Kingsway Crescent is also where I became a Leslie.

The house itself was nothing pretentious. It was a three-bedroom postwar brick house on the ravine with a single-car garage. Today it probably would sell for a million-five! you came up a concrete-poured stoop to the front door. The garage was on the left-hand side of the house with a walkway to a side door that led to the kitchen or into the front hall. From the front hall there was a stairway upstairs on the left-hand side. The bedroom over the garage was Bob’s, and then up a couple more stairs were two more bedrooms, a large one that went from front to back next to the bathroom, which was my parents’, and mine that overlooked the backyard. on the main floor you came straight from the front door through French doors into the dining room, and then the kitchen was to the north of that and the living room was to the south of that with lovely bay windows at the front and back. The yard was short, at most thirty feet, before it dropped straight down the ravine into the Humber Valley.

Coming home to our first Christmas at the new address was a bit of an adjustment for Bob and me because we had no friends in the new neighbourhood. Dad knew that and he’d say to me, “What are you doing this afternoon?”

“I dunno, I thought I’d putter around.” “I’m going up to the racetrack. Want to come for a few races?” and

I lived with the Robbins family twice at two different homes on Clendenan Avenue.

My first foster home, 316 Montrose Avenue, where I lived with the Biddles.

The Canada Cartage office and shop, where I began working for the company.

Fern Avenue Public School: Grades 6 and 7.

76 Harvard Avenue, my first home with the Leslies.

CIRCA 1920 ATLAS OF TORONTO1. TORONTO WeST / PARkdALe

2 The JuNCTION 3 LITTLe ITALy

Annette Street Public School: Grades 2 to 4.

Dewson Street Public School: Where I completed kindergarten and part of Grade 1.

2

1

3

2

1

3

iNtErior paGEs

lEatHEr BoND HarD CoVEr WitH slip CasE aND DVD aND HarD CoVEr WitH jaCkEt

100/100/100/05 90/90/100/10 100/100/100/10 80/100/100/15 90/90/100/2080/80/100/25

With characteristic wit and candor, Bob Jacoby talks about his life experiences and what he did “along the way.” From a Depression-era childhood in New Jersey, he went on to overseas service with the U.S. army, distinguished academic achievement, earning the Phi Beta Kappa key from Princeton University, and a highly successful run in the advertising industry as the chief executive of ted Bates, leading it to become the second-largest ad agency in the world. Bob and Monica, his wife of 57 years, raised four daughters, Cindy, Laurie, Debbie and Pie, and today are blessed to also have 15 grandchildren. Bob and Monica split their time between their residences in New York and Florida.

Bob survived and thrived in the tough competitive world of advertising, served as an anti-tank gun crewman in the army, and fights a fierce battle if attacked, but this life story has lots of evidence of his “softer side.” he loves animals and the natural beauty of the world, and is deeply touched by a children’s choir or a string ensemble.

During his career, Bob left signature marks all over the advertising industry and on products that are still household names – trident, Rolaids and Panasonic to name a few. in the community, the Jacoby name graces a magnificent

“It doesn’t matter where you end up, it’s what

you do along the way.”

symphony hall in Jacksonville, a Boy Scout badge, and a prestigious professorship at the world famous Mayo Clinic, and he is responsible for countless other acts of generosity and support in the arts, medicine and education. Throughout the years, he has nurtured promising young ad men and women through his open-door policies at ted Bates, supported musicians and music lovers through his gifts and work with the Jacksonville Symphony, provided financial support to great thinkers and researchers in medicine and education, given generously to the underprivileged, provided first-class healthcare facilities, and helped beautify the community, all the while providing security and comfort for his family.

Bob looks back on his challenges and accomplishments with a few “what if ?” questions, but concludes that he has no real regrets. Approaching his 84th birthday, he expresses a great sense of satisfaction and gratitude that he’s able to help make the world a little bit better. he’s never forgotten the simple values instilled at an early age: share what you have with others, strive for excellence, serve your country and community, and above all, keep your sense of humor.

The Life and Times of RobeRT e. Jacoby JR.

Jac

ob

y

~ 20 ~

R o b e R t e . J a c o b y J R .

~ 21 ~

D u t y , H o n o R , c o u n t R y

My PaRents

I don’t know how my parents met or anything about their courtship. They married at a tough time – 1927, just when the economy was starting to fall apart. The Depression went on for 10 or 12 years, so it must’ve been hard to get a start in life with that burden. I think my parents led lives dedicated to survival. Times must have been tough – though I don’t remember hearing them complain. My dad worked hard and my mom did her best to raise me with the resources she had, which weren’t much.

My parents married January 15, 1927 and I came along a year later. They named me after my dad, so I made him Robert Eakin Jacoby Sr. that day. They didn’t have any more children, apparently because my mother almost died when I was born. I asked them, “How come I don’t have any brothers or

Dad (Robert E. Jacoby) and Mom (Anna Marie Bach) about 1926. They married a year later. Me as an infant

~ 32 ~

R o b e R t e . J a c o b y J R .

~ 33 ~

D u t y , H o n o R , c o u n t R y

four-year-old helper. One day she opened the garage, and I was standing by one of the doors when she backed the car out. She went too far over on one side, and the bumper hit the back of the door and ripped it off its hinges. The door fell on top of me. Well, my mother went berserk. She carried me into my grandmother’s house and laid me down on a table and my aunts stood around and examined me. Eventually the doctor came, and I said, “Am I dead?” I didn’t know what the fuss was all about. I had a few scratches and a scraped knee. I remember it like it happened yesterday.

I emerged from that incident fairly unscathed, but it frightened my mother so badly that she never drove again. When we moved out to Bogota, the store was a mile up the hill—a steep hill—and she walked up, bought groceries, and walked back with all the bags. To visit her mom and sisters, she took public transit. I remember her waiting at the corner to take a yellow bus, Number 124, to Union City.

1. Bobby Jacoby Jr. Union City, New Jersey, 1931 2. Ready for an outing in my best coat and cap 3. Fun at Jones Beach, New York 4. Cousin Mildred and me, Oakland, New Jersey, 1934 5. Mom and Dad and me in Oakland, New Jersey, 1933 6. Cousin Mildred and me, Oakland, New Jersey, 1934

1. With Mom and Dad at Jones Beach, New York, 19312. With cousin Vivian in Union City, New Jersey, 1932

HarD CoVEr jaCkEt aND iNtErior paGEs

tHE iNtErior layout iN proCEss

~ 60 ~

R o b e R t e . J a c o b y J R .

~ 61 ~

D u t y , H o n o R , c o u n t R y

tHe aRmy

I took my last high school exam on the morning June 6, 1946, and enlisted in the army in July 1946. They called me 10 days later. My parents and I went up to Lake Winnipesaukee in New Hampshire for a vacation, and on July 10th I went into the army. My mother was a bit of a basket case when I told her I’d be going overseas. She never got over that.

Enlisting was easy for me. I wasn’t scared, mainly because you’re stupid when you’re young. I did it to prove something to myself, I guess—to prove that I might be small in stature but I could do anything anybody else could do—maybe even better than anybody else.

After I took the army’s enlistment test they said, “You’ve got an IQ of 165.” (A teacher told me that once in school too.) They wanted to send me straight to Officer Candidate School because my marks were so high, and they said I could skip basic training.

I said, “Officer school? How long do I have to stay in the army if I go to officer school?”

The sergeant said, “When you get commissioned, you have to stay in for four years.”

I said, “No, I’m enlisting for only two years. I want to go to college.” He said, “You could go right there.” But I wanted to go to basic training, not officer school. I said, “I’m

enlisting in the army to be a soldier, and they teach you that in basic training.” He said okay. Fort Knox, Kentucky, Basic Training , Infantry, 1946 Robert E. Jacoby Jr.

~ 64 ~

R o b e R t e . J a c o b y J R .

~ 65 ~

D u t y , H o n o R , c o u n t R y

I wore my uniform proudly and made many friends in the army. 2 Tanks at Fort Knox, Kentucky, M-26 and a M4A3

~ 68 ~

R o b e R t e . J a c o b y J R .

~ 69 ~

D u t y , H o n o R , c o u n t R y

of high school and didn’t particularly care one way or another whether the enemy was Japanese or anything else.

Food was extremely scarce. They weren’t shipping it from the States by boat because it took too long, so they were developing hydroponic farms farther north. When I first got to Japan with my unit, none of us had anything to eat for five days and nights, not even a cookie. Me, I didn’t care—I weighed only 117 pounds and wasn’t a big eater anyway. But the lack of food was a real problem for a while. When we finally did find some food the Japanese tried to steal it because they were hungry too.

My duties were mainly in transportation and supplies, in protecting railway cars, because there were a lot of robberies. Sometimes I had labor gangs of 300 Japanese guys working for me, and I had trouble telling one from the other. It was a big problem, because some of them reported by name, and I’d think, Geez, I don’t know which one that is.

Tanks in the 4th of July parade, Tokyo, 1947. Army buddies: left to right: Mike Tymoc; me, Jimmy Hayes, Ed Kaufman.

Domain of the Golden Dragon certificate for crossing the international date line on the Eberle

~ 62 ~

R o b e R t e . J a c o b y J R .

~ 63 ~

D u t y , H o n o R , c o u n t R y

This is how naïve I was: I had the nerve to tell the sergeant, “My grand-mother said I shouldn’t let you send me to Germany because all her relatives are over there, and she doesn’t want me to hurt anybody.”

He laughed and said, “You gotta be kidding, you little son of a bitch. I’m going to put you in tanks.”

That’s when he sent me to Fort Knox, Kentucky. I was in the infantry, and my MOS—military occupational specialty—was anti-tank gun crewman. Our job was to defend the infantry division by fighting the enemy’s tanks.

My years with the Boy Scouts served me well in the army. In basic training, we had to take a 20-mile hike with full packs and ammunition on our backs, just to teach us a lesson, I guess. At the end of the hike, there was going to be night exercises, following trails and so forth. We were all new to each other;

My Fort Knox training certificate1. With army friends 2. With rifle

~ 66 ~

R o b e R t e . J a c o b y J R .

~ 67 ~

D u t y , H o n o R , c o u n t R y

like CID—the Criminal Investigating Division. We were detectives, looking for problems. We didn’t know if the Japanese were really pacified; we thought they had some army fanatics who might fight to the death because it was the last hurrah for them and they had nothing left to lose. They had surrendered by that time, of course, but we didn’t know what they might do in their home-land. The Japanese hid in fortified caves and tunnels and they were going to defend them with their lives.

I met and served with many different kinds of guys. It was quite an experi-ence. At that time the army was segregated—no blacks were with us because they were mostly in the trucking and transportation divisions, not the combat divisions. Some guys had come up through the Philippines and had had terrible experiences with the Japanese knifing young soldiers to death in their tents at night, so they deeply hated the Japanese. But I was just out

didn’t know each other’s backgrounds or anything. At the end of this grueling hike, the commanding officer of the platoon said, “Anybody here been in the Boy Scouts?”

I raised my hand and looked around and noticed I was the only one. He said, “Yeah? What rank were you?” I said, “I’m an Eagle Scout.” “You’re in charge. You’re taking the night platoon out.” He told me he was

confident that I could read maps and so on because he knew I’d done that at Scout camp. So right away, I was the sergeant.

After training at Fort Knox, we were sent to the Pacific. I shipped out of Camp Pendleton in Oakland, California, in October 1946 and landed 15 days later in Yokohama, Japan. I was stationed at the Shinagawa base on Tokyo Bay between Tokyo and Yokohama. It had been the old Japanese Naval Training School, similar to our Annapolis. I was in the army of Occupation repre-sented by the Eighth U.S. Army. They put me in what was called something

Admiral Eberle, my troop ship from California to Tokyo. It left San Francisco Saturday November 2, 1946 and arrived

at Yokohama Thursday November 14, 1946

With my friend Gerald Humphreys Bronx and me standing at attention

~ 70 ~

R o b e R t e . J a c o b y J R .

~ 71 ~

D u t y , H o n o R , c o u n t R y

I went into Tokyo once in a while. We were trained in the tanks at the base of Mount Fuji—tough physical training, running all the time. I don’t know why they made us do all that when they weren’t feeding us, but they did.

I saw General McArthur several times, and I found a lot of guys from my high school graduating class over there. One guy had the cushiest job in Tokyo. You couldn’t use American money because they were worried about the black market, so they made “occupation money” that was red and blue or something, and this guy’s job was printing the money. After he got out of the army, I heard he bought himself a Rolls Royce and a Bentley, so a lot of the money must have stuck to him.

I didn’t see much fighting or violence. The closest call was with two Scottish soldiers who tried to kill us. I was with a bunch of American soldiers in Tokyo, and we ran into these two Scottish soldiers, big bruisers in kilts. We thought we were wise guys and started singing, “What does a Scotsman have under his kilt, ring ding diddle diddle i-de-o, o what does a Scotsman

1. U.S. Marines march in 4th of July parade, Tokyo, 1947 2. Japanese Air Raid shelters 1947. Don Copsenski and me 3. Japan, February 12, 1947

General MacArthur’s Headquarters Dai Itchi Insurance Building , Tokyo 1947. MacArthur held the title of Supreme Commander of the Allied Powers (SCAP)

FiNisHED iNtErior paGEs

lEatHEr BoND HarD CoVEr aND pHoto WrappED HarD CoVEr WitH GolD Foil

Lee M. ThoMas

Making a Difference

My Life in governMenT anD Business

PAGE: 3PAGE: 2 SIG: 1B

~ 11 ~

Early yEars

rural roots

My hometown of Ridgeway is a little place in Fairfield County, South Carolina – population about 425 back when I was a kid in the late 1940s and early ’50s. It was big news when the town got a stoplight – and it still has just the one. There was no need for traffic lights when I was a kid because we hardly had any traffic. It was very much a rural area and the town itself was almost like a crossroads. My family – me and my parents, my brother, Robert, and my sisters Lollie and Eleanor – lived in a large house built by Isaac Thomas in the 1880s. Behind us was a large field and we kept a cow and chickens, and for a brief time I was the proud owner of a horse named Star. Farming, especially cotton farming and forestry, drove the economy; farms and plantations dotted the landscape. Ridgeway developed when the Columbia and Charlotte Railroad passed through in 1850. The town became a market center to sell and trade, and to buy food and household goods. A little later in this book I talk about the Thomas Company store, which, like a lot of country stores, was an important focal point of the community, right alongside the church, school and town hall.

Ridgeway has stayed pretty much the same over the years. It’s a quaint, historic town and was a great place to grow up.

The Isaac C. Thomas house where I was born and raised. Built in the Victorian style, circa 1885.

“A vernacular residence enriched by the carpenter’s ornamentation, indicative of the prosperity associated with the late nineteenth century.”

–National Register of Historic Places, U.S. Department of the Interior Heritage Conservation and Recreation Service

PAGE: 11PAGE: 10

lEatHEr BoND HarD CoVEr aND ClotH BoND HarD CoVEr WitH jaCkEt

titlE paGEs aND a CHaptEr opENiNG

ClotH BoND HarD CoVEr aND lEatHEr BoND HarD CoVEr

otto WEltziEN oF portuGal aND masako sato oF japaN BEComE pEN pals aND marriED. tHE Book CElEBratEs tHEir marriaGE aND tHE BlENDiNG oF tHEir

Family CulturEs. tHEir CHilDrEN CoNtriButED CHaptErs aND EaCH CHaptEr opENs WitH tHE EarliEst oWN pHotoGrapH oF tHEm.

Our Family The Weltzien-Sato Story

By Erika Weltzien and Family

Unsere Familie

nossa Família

onze familie

ár Teaghlaigh

SIG: /PAGE: 1 16 1A

14 15Our Family

Otto Kuno Weltzien

Born December 26, 1932, in Porto, Portugal Parents: Kuno and Edith Weltzien (née Burmester)

The Burmester Line

I am the only child of Kuno and edith Weltzien. My mother’s maiden name was Burmester, from the Burmesters of port wine fame. edith was born on February 19, 1897, in Porto, Portugal to Julius Wilhelm Gerhard Burmester and Martha Amalie Burmester (née Ringhoffer). We can trace the Burmester family history back to 1525, to Mölln, a small town in Northern Germany known for Till eulenspiegel, a mischievous prankster in a medieval German fable.

My great-grandfather was Johann Wilhelm Burmester. he was born in 1810 in hamburg, Germany, and went to Porto in 1834. he took over the family’s Burmester port wine company in 1861, estab-lishing the name J. W. Burmester. After he retired from full-time work, he liked to sit on a rock near a breakwall built out into the ocean at the Douro promenade in Porto. One day in February 1885, a huge wave washed him away and he drowned.

Johann Wilhelm had six sons. The eldest, Gustav Adolph, took over the port wine firm along with his brother Otto. All the brothers, including my grandfather Gerhard, continued the family’s commer-cial interests in the areas of port wine, insurance, bottle production, shipping and textiles. During World War I, because of their German heritage, the family had to leave Portugal with only twenty-four

Otto Weltzien, 4 months old, with his mother Edith Weltzien, Porto, Portugal, June 11, 1933

SIG: SIG: // PAGE: 15PAGE: 14 1213

74 75Our Family

masako Sato Weltzien

Born April 1, 1936 Parents: Toshio and Ie Sato (née Adachi)

My Family Background

I was born in the year of the rat, on April 1, 1936. In this case the rat is a good thing, the first of the signs in the Japanese zodiac calendar. It’s a leader, the first of the twelve animals. My mom was thirty-three when I was born; my dad a year older. Like my brother and sister, I was born at home with the help of a midwife.

We lived in the town of Mikage, now part of Kobe, a cosmopolitan port city on the southern side of the main island of Japan. My mother was Ie Adachi, daughter of Sozaemon and Kame Adachi. My uncle, my mother’s brother Setsuji Adachi, did a family tree that goes back many generations to the year 1584. Of course, it is written in Japanese and the dates are in a dynasty format. The Adachi family owned a lot of land in a rural area. My mother was born on September 11, 1903. She had six older brothers, one younger brother, and five older sisters, but many died when she was young, some as babies. I only remember one aunt and four uncles; my mother was the youngest. She always said, “It’s nice to have many and never too many.”

My father, Toshio Sato, was born on November 27, 1902. his last name at birth was Nagata, but as a child he was “given” to the Satos, who had lost their son when he was a month old. (In Japanese culture,

Masako at Nakanoshima Park, Osaka, Japan, August 13, 1957

SIG: SIG: // PAGE: 75PAGE: 74 570571

182 183Our Family

romy yuriko

Weltzien-Straathof

Born June 30, 1961 in Edmonton, Alberta Parents: Otto and Masako Weltzien (née Sato)

Childhood

I was born and raised in edmonton, Alberta, the middle of three sisters. I have many good memories of my childhood. One is of our family road trips to the Okanagan every summer – it was so much fun and so relaxed. We picked tons of cherries from the trees and swam in the lake or swimming pool. One year our grandparents from Japan came with us. They must have photographed every single mountain, and couldn’t believe the abundance of fruit. Roger and I still enjoy making small trips to the mountains with the kids, though every year it seems less relaxed because everyone is so busy.

When I was a little girl, I took ballet lessons but was incredibly shy, and eventually dropped out. I took several arts and crafts classes, and erika, Monica and I all had swimming and figure skating classes. But I was happiest at home with books and our pets.

Romy, 2 years five months. Edmonton, November 1963

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164 165Our Family

marisa aisling Brennan

Born September 29, 1989 in Toronto, Ontario Parents: John Brennan and Erika Weltzien

My Heritage

MY background always seems to come up in conversation when I meet someone. This might be because, like my sister and cousins, I have some Japanese traits that were passed on, but I think it’s also because it’s an important part of my identity and I enjoy talking about it. I grew up surrounded by a lot of cultural diversity, which influ-enced the way I think, the people I spend time with, and the activities I take part in. When my entire family gets together there can be a mix of different languages – Japanese, Portuguese, German and english, among others. Growing up in this environment sparked my interest in travel and learning about different languages and cultures.

Thanks to my parents, I was given the opportunity to travel when I was growing up. I went to Japan as a toddler and to Ireland almost every summer with my family. I feel really lucky to have had the opportunity to develop meaningful relationships with both sides of my family. I have great memories of my Granny on my father’s side, from when I was little. We were always the first ones in the house to wake up, and I would look forward to mornings when we had the house to ourselves for a couple of hours and talked over milk and homemade brown bread. Getting to know my cousins on these trips

Marisa Brennan, 19 months, in Obaachan’s (great-grandmother Ie Sato’s) garden. Kobe, Japan, May 9, 1991

SIG: SIG: // PAGE: 165PAGE: 164 11C17211173

174 175Our Family

Krista mariko Brennan

Born March 21, 1995 in London, Ontario Parents: John Brennan and Erika Weltzien

My Family and My Heritage

I grew up listening to my parents talk about their backgrounds. They’ve been very open about talking about their childhoods and from this, I’ve learned a lot about not only their lives but also my grandparents’ history. Many of the stories that my father tells are from his childhood in Drummin, stories about planting potatoes with his family and other regular chores that he was responsible for as a child. however, the stories that I tend to remember most from him are the ones about the nature and the wildlife in Ireland. For instance, the story about finding baby hares in the grass. his descriptions capture the excitement he must have felt discovering the beautiful creatures. It wasn’t until I had seen wild hares for the first time on our trip to Ireland in 2011 that I understood why he illustrated the story with such majestic details, such as the length of their ears towering over their backs.

Since my family has a very diverse background, my parents wanted my sister and me to know both sides of our family and to experience the many different cultures that are present in our family. Therefore, I find myself to be truly blessed, as I was able to travel to Ireland and edmonton nearly every year to visit my mother’s and father’s families.

Krista, 3 years old. London, Ontario, May 1998

SIG: SIG: // PAGE: 175PAGE: 174 1116211163

198 199Our Family

rutgerus (roger)

George maria Straathof

Born May 29, 1955, The Hague, the Netherlands Parents: Cornelis (Kees) Johannes Straathof and

Johanna (Annie) Anna van der Meer

Childhood

I am the second oldest of four children, all born in Den haag, the Netherlands. Our parents owned a grocery store. Their responsi-bilities left little time to get involved in my various extracurricular activities, which centred around soccer, table tennis and gymnastics. Like everybody else in holland, I cycled everywhere. I’ll never forget having to cycle 125 km one way to get to a soccer camp for a week. I built up a lot of stamina for the long bike trips I did in the future – day trips around the Netherlands and, as an adult, the Alpen Brevet in the Swiss Mountains (over three passes – each time 600 to 2600 meters and 130 km in total), and (twice) a three-day Golden Triangle near Banff, Alberta. I was an altar boy in Den haag and learned Latin – and how to appreciate wine! I have fond memories of my early years, with many friends and good family times with the Straathofs and van der Meers. I remember one lady, Mrs. Gales, who was like a second mother to me and who had a son born one day before me. Our parents

Roger, 12 years old, Holland, 1967

SIG: SIG: // PAGE: 199PAGE: 198 13D20213203

214 215Our Family

Tatiana alyssa

Weltzien-Straathof

Born June 23, 1993, Bad Homburg, Germany Parents: Roger Straathof and Romy

Weltzien-Straathof

My Family

I have found that the most significant events in my life have occurred with my family and friends beside me, and I am truly my happiest when I am with my family. Our annual Christmas reunions have come to be a favourite of mine as it seems the only time of the year we can have all members of the Weltzien family together! We have many traditions that we try to continue each year, such as going to church, our Christmas eve lunch with Len Dolgoy (a longtime family friend) at the same Chinese restaurant, and even special meals. Our traditions are often a unique mixture of our Japanese, German and Portugese heritage. We all look forward to this time together.

My mum and I have shared several special times. Last year (2012) my nine-year-old rabbit, Violet, passed away, and it was very hard for both Mum and me because we were so close to him; he was such a sweet and gentle being. I had longed to have a rabbit ever since I was a small child. It took five years (and many different tactics) to convince my dad to finally let me have a rabbit of my own.

Tatiana, 1 year old. Germany, 1994

SIG: SIG: // PAGE: 215PAGE: 214 14D21814219

224 225Our Family

monica Susan Weltzien

Born June 5, 1965, in Edmonton, Alberta Parents: Otto and Masako Weltzien (née Sato)

Childhood Memories

MY strongest memories from childhood are not about skating lessons or learning to ride a bike. They’re about our pets, especially Puss, our beautiful, long-haired, cream-and-orange tabby cat that we found one day. Our mom said that we couldn’t keep him and told us not to feed him, or he would never leave. My parents often went out on Friday or Saturday evenings, so my sisters and I would bring Puss inside and dress him up in doll’s clothes and put him in a baby carriage. Of course, we also fed him. My mom wondered why he kept coming back. But one day he didn’t come back. even my parents went out in the neighbourhood to look for him. It was after about one week that I saw the door open at the pink house at the other end of the crescent. A strange family lived there. I remember they couldn’t get a permit to dig a basement, so they built a bomb shelter instead. Well, Puss ran out of this house. eventually Puss came to live with us permanently and it was my mom who grew especially close to him. he is the reason that I love my cats so much today.

I don’t really remember much about our black dog, Daisy, because she died when I was quite young. But a young couple that lived nearby – he was a policeman – owned a police dog named Tess. That’s where

Monica, 3 years old. Japan, 1968

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iNtErior paGEs

My Life

By Ursula Taggart

My daughters asked me to write my memoirs and I decided to do it,

to put down memories about my life and heritage and about the

experience of being an immigrant. I wanted to do it for them and

their kids and future generations.

You can’t change your past. It is what it is.

Parents and Grandparents

My parents were Margareta Elli Hoffmann and Max Franz Eugen

Kieckhoefer. They were both born and raised in Berlin. My mother

was born February 25, 1909. I’m not sure of my father’s birth date.

I met my father’s mother only once. My memory of her is that she

gave me a slice of dark bread to eat. I’ve never forgotten that: a

slice of dry bread. I suppose I remember it so clearly because she

was sharing something with me and I appreciated it. I know

nothing more about my grandparents or ancestors on my father’s

side.

tHE maNusCript aND pHotos

by Ursula Kieckhofer

My LifeMy daughters asked me to write my memoirs

and I decided to do it, to put down memories about my life and heritage and about the experience of being an immigrant.

I wanted to do it for them and their kids and future generations.

You can’ t change your past. It is what it is.

tHE iNspiratioNaND tHE DEsiGN CoNCEpt

My Life

7

Parents and Grandparents

y parents were Margareta Elli Hoffmann and Max Franz Eugen

Kieckhoefer. They were both born and raised in Berlin. My mother

was born February 25, 1909. I’m not sure of my father’s birth date.

I met my father’s mother only once. My memory of her is that she gave

me a slice of dark bread to eat. I’ve never forgotten that: a slice of dry bread.

I suppose I remember it so clearly because she was sharing something with

me and I appreciated it. I know nothing more about my grandparents or

ancestors on my father’s side.

My father may have been half-Jewish, which is very interesting given

his involvement with the German military under Hitler. Whether he was a

full-fledged member of the Nazi Party, I don’t know. His possible Jewish

heritage was just a vague story I heard from the relatives on my mother’s

side. My brother, Norbert, looks very much like my father, and people have

mentioned that he looks Jewish. So who knows? It may be true, it may

not be.

M

My grandmother Anna Hoffmann, seated. At right is my mother,

Margareta Elli Hoffmann. Standing, from left to right, are my mother’s sisters

Lisa and Lotte, and in the front row is my mother’s brother Rudi. There were another

two sisters, Erna and Mia, and another brother, Otto, in my mother’s family.

My Life

70

My Life

71

Parker and me at our wedding, December 19, 1958

After the wedding ceremony with our two witnesses,

Parker’s best friend and a neighbor of mine

My Life

112

My Life

113

Meeting the Half-sisters

found out that my father died of lung cancer because I met two of

my half-sisters in Canada about 16 years ago. Norbert’s wife, Minni,

wanted to find our full family and went through an agency. I told her I

had no interest – I was very against meeting the children of the woman

who had treated me so badly. Minni pointed out that the woman’s children

didn’t have anything to do with that; I then talked to my kids about it, and

they said the same thing. So I gave in, and Norbert paid for the half-sisters

to come to Oakville, Ontario, where he and his wife live.

I went to Canada by Greyhound, and Norbert begged me to accompany

him to the Toronto airport so he didn’t have to meet our half-sisters alone.

So that was my first sight of Carmen and Jacqueline, and it was scary how

much Carmen and I looked alike despite the big difference in our ages and

having different mothers. Both of them were very nice. I like Carmen a lot.

Carmen and Jacqueline had grown up in Brazil but then went to Germany

for a few years to stay with relatives of their mother, possibly planning to

live there permanently but it didn’t work out. While they were with us, they Norbert and me. “Whose gold piece is bigger?”

I

My Life

134

My Life

135

I wish John and I lived closer to Debbie and Brenda. I never thought I’d

end up so far away from them, but that’s the way life goes – look how far

I went away from my own mother. John is not against moving, but finan-

cially, it’s not realistic for us to consider a move. I think if I were closer I

would see the girls more, but Brenda says if I lived there, I might see her

two more times a year because she’s always out of the country for work.

I worry myself to death about the future, and sometimes I say to Debbie,

I want to be buried where you and Brenda live. She says, Mom, are you

dying again? Why do you care where you’ll be buried? Anyway, I’m not a

cemetery person. I want Debbie and Brenda to say, “Yeah, that’d be nice

if you were buried close to us,” but they believe that when you’re dead,

you’re dead. I believe that your spirit moves on. I hope they grant me my

wish that John and I are together.

I have a bad tendency to talk about my death to my kids, and it drives

them crazy. And after I’ve done it again, I ask myself, Why do I do that? I

love my grandchildren, Alex and Sarah, to no end, but I do it to them too.

I say, “Be nice to Omi, because I may not be here that much longer.” And

Debbie says, “Oh my God, here we go again. Omi is dying again.”

hIt pleases me so much that my daughters are friends with each other. They’re

only 21 months apart in age, which helps. Brenda was Debbie’s maid of

honor, and she took Debbie on vacation to Barbados for her 50th birthday.

That was so kind of Brenda. Debbie is just as wonderful to Brenda.

Me, 1991

iNtErior paGEs

Kersten Christiane sChweiger DoDge

HomelandOn a Ship Called

On a S

hip Called H

omeland

sCh

we

ige

r D

oD

ge

her

itag

e MeM

oir

s

Where It Began

I was born in Insterburg, East Prussia, which doesn’t exist anymore. Today it is called Chernyakhovsk and is in Kaliningrad District, Russia. East Prussia became part of the German Empire during the 1871 unification of Germany but after World War I, it was separated from the rest of Weimar Germany because the province of East Prussia had become an exclave – a territory legally or polit-ically attached to another territory with which it is not geographically contiguous. Most of the road connections and railways through former German territory were closed or had heavy taxes or tariffs for Germans, and the cost of transport and trade with neighbouring markets weakened an already poor economy. After the Nazis invaded Poland in 1939, the borders of East Prussia were revised.

13

InsterburgInsterburg was located at the confluence of the

Angerapp and Inster rivers.

It became a city in 1572.

In 1940, the population was about 48,700.

The city’s economy was sustained by grain and lumber trade and a military barracks.

In July 1944, it suffered heavy bombing by

British Royal Air Force.

January 1945, it was conquered by Russian troops.

The population in 2010 was about 40,000, mainly retired

USSR military personnel. No Germans lived there.

In 1946, Insterburg was renamed Chernyakhovsk in honour of Soviet World War II general Ivan Chernyakhovsky, killed

in action in East Prussia.

pHoto WrappED HarD CoVEr aND CHaptEr 1 sprEaD

Fleeing Insterburg

W hen I was two years old, in January, 1945, the Soviet offensive into East Prussia began in earnest. The troops broke through German lines and Insterburg was the first city to fall. Destruction and unimaginable atrocities were taking place everywhere. By then, thank God, my family had escaped.

I’ve tried to figure out when my mother and I left. It was probably in July, 1944. It was illegal to leave. The German government didn’t want all these people fleeing East Prussia because they were trying to hold it against the Russians.

But we did get out. We first went to Seelow, where my grandmother was born. Her brother, Karl, was a schoolteacher there.

By the beginning of October 1944, we were in a place called Küstrin, which is west of Seelow and about 84 kilometres east of Berlin. I believe my mother had an uncle there.

48 49

Our flight route: Insterburg May 1944, Seelow July/August 1944, Kustrin October 1944, Schwerin April 1945, Geesthacht May 1945, Hamburg 1949

Passage on Homeland to Pier 21

Canada was not the only country that my parents talked about immigrating to. I know they also considered India and Peru and were actually learning Spanish. They both spoke English. Eventually they were sent to Canada by my father’s company, Brunsviga, to set up a branch to sell business machines. How much of it was their choice, I don’t know.

I don’t really remember too much about the preparations to come to Canada. Christmas Eve is always a big event in Germany, and on the Christmas before we left, it was bigger than usual with my grandparents Leo and Elsa. I don’t know whether my mother’s mother was there; probably not, because she spent a lot of time with my mother’s sister’s family. That Christmas, I am quite sure – though my father claimed he was not aware of it – that my grand-father gave my father a family Bible with the family tree in it. I remember seeing it. Sadly, that Bible disappeared. My father, perhaps because of the war,

76 77

Homeland, the ship that carried us to Canada, March 1952

iNtErior paGEs

CONSTRUCTIONDREAMS UNDER

ThE LIfE, WORk AND LEgACy Of JOhN BAhEN

EloisE lEwis , Editor~ 1 ~

1

Opening Day

John Bahen looked out from the podium, smiling broadly at the invited guests and acknowledging their warm reaction to his intro-duction. he was accustomed to the formality of such an occasion and comfortable in front of a crowd. an experienced speechmaker, he conveyed the essence of his character with his opening line.

“Clearly I am speaking from the bottom of the batting order on the list of speakers. For those of you who know me, this is a position I enjoy occupying. I am used to having the last word!”

It was october 8, 2002, the day of the official opening of the Univer-sity of Toronto’s (U of T) Bahen Centre for Information Technology. The atrium of the building was awash in sunlight. on a platform backed by the restored brick wall of the abutting Koffler Centre, tall banners listed the sponsors, donors and quasi-governmental bodies responsible for funding construction of the new Bahen Building. a banner bearing a portrait of John and his wife Margaret read: “Margaret & John Bahen – Leaders, Builders & Graduates.” a blue satin ribbon, tied in a large bow, was strung across the width of the platform in front of a podium blazoned with the university crest. The platform itself was adorned with the flags of Canada, ontario and the University of Toronto.

The conditions of this event were special to John in ways not self-evident to many of the people gathered or passing by. Many students paused on their way to classes to observe the proceedings. They stood in the main hall, leaned over balcony railings and peered out of crowded

John speaking at the opening of the Bahen Centre for Information Technology, University of Toronto.The platform party at the opening of the Bahen Centre for Information Technology, U of T.

(Photos: Steven Evans)

and know that all things are possible.”

– John bahen

“dream big

ClotH BoND HarD CoVEr WitH jaCkEt aND iNtErior paGEs

~ 24 ~ ~ 25 ~

D R E A M S U N D E R C O N S T R U C T I O N

Subway construction on Yonge Street in 1949.(Photo: City of Toronto Archives)

Family celebration of John and Margaret’s sixtieth wedding anniversary on the Argyll in Nantucket, August 2013.

(Photo: Claudia Kronenberg)

Commemorative coaster made by the staff of the Argyll for John and Margaret’s sixtieth

wedding anniversary.

~ 84 ~ ~ 85 ~

14

From roads to dams at James Bay

Written descriptions of the landscape surrounding James Bay, and in fact writing in general about the Canadian Shield and northern expanses of Canada, laud the dramatic greens of glacial lakes, the magnificence of ancient rock formations and the pristine beauty of untouched old growth forests. Such adjective-laden text would have been lost on those who made the trip to James Bay by plane from Montreal to Matagami and then still farther north by truck or bus to the road camp at Mile 48. The Kiewit men and women endured harsh conditions. Temperatures were regularly -13° to -22°F, and there was no settlement with urban conveniences for hundreds of miles from where the bulk of the construction was taking place.

The amount of running water in James Bay is due more to the way the

John at the crusher operation, Mile 14 of the Matagami road job.

iNtErior paGEs

rED GarmENt lEatHEr HarD CoVEr WitH GolD ENGraVED titlE

Il rifugio più sicuro è il cuore della mamma. A mothe r ’ s hea r t i s t he s a f e s t r e f uge .

Foreword

In our family, life happens in the kitchen. More than any other room in our home, it’s the

place where we carry out life’s glorious and sometimes mundane business. From cooking to bill paying to the latest news, our kitchen’s four walls can be reduced to one word – family – where if we listen intently we can learn the secrets of love.

While our mother cooks, our father reads, and loud music plays in the background, we speak about every-thing. Our kitchen is the epicentre of our home and over the past forty years, our mother has made our family kitchen a meeting place where all are welcomed with open arms. And from here she continues to happily and selflessly guide our daily lives with love, laughter and, of course, delicious food.

Our mother provides her own special and not-at-all secret “ingredient.” Our father proudly

praises our mother’s finely honed people sense. That, in combination with the warmest and most open heart you’ll ever find, is the uniqueness that makes her so loved by so many. Everyone who walks into her kitchen is greeted with a bright, warm and inviting smile. The kindness, the generosity, the excitement, and the love that shines in her eyes is appreciated by all those who come back again and again.

Our mother has the treasured and rare gift of heart – she lives her life from her warm and open heart. She offers those around her the gift of patience, atten-tion and presence. She indirectly teaches us to mine the deep treasures locked in our own hearts. And for those who hear her lessons, they are forever changed and forever filled with that love.

As a connected family unit, we appreciate all that our mother is, and hope that we are able to give back

9

How much love can one heart hold?

How much love can one heart give?

Marisa and Edward connected at the heart, sharing love, laughter and family.

Strong Women

Food is the smell of love. As a girl, when I walked into our house, I would smell my

mother’s meat sauce. It smelled so good, and she would give me some on a little piece of bread. My mother was a wonderful person, very loving. Both my parents were. It’s from them that I learned to love. Cooking, I taught myself. At first, it was a creative outlet when I was home with small children, but soon it became the vessel into which I pour my love for my family.

Ironically, my mother really didn’t cook that well. Every day at 5:30 when I was a girl, my supper was on the table, the table set with a clean cloth and the proper dishes. She cooked not with passion, but out of love to feed her family. After she moved back to Italy and came to visit, she’d say, “You just cook, okay? You want me to cut, I’ll cut, but you do all the cooking.” She loved everything I made. I loved it when she came because when she left, my house was immacu-late, like hers.

We were always closer to my mother’s side of the family; my father’s family was more of a mystery. My father was Andrea Piccinin from the Pordenone area of northern Italy. He was born in 1909 and had a brother and a sister I never knew. His grandfather was Turkish. One of his cousins traced the family tree and told me that this grandfather had done something tremendously horrible and had to leave Turkey quickly. What he did nobody knows, but he had to run for his life and, once in Italy, he changed his name. My father was six feet tall, but his father, Eugenio Piccinin, was no taller than I am now at five-foot-four. He was a skinny little guy who looked Turkish. I was only five when we left Italy, but I remember Nonno always wore a hat and he was always angry.

His wife, my Nonna, Angela Marcon, was just the opposite. After my father went ahead to Canada, my mother, my sister, Gloria, and I lived with our father’s parents. They were tenant farmers, and while everyone was out, Nonna would take care of me.

1 3

The seven Zaina sisters in the 1990s. (L to R) Cia, Lina, Ada, Ines, Adele, Bruna, Anna.

Brother Giacomo (Nino) is not present.

3 8 3 9

Edward and Marisa on their European honeymoon, 1971.

The young couple in the 1970s with Auntie Lee, Uncle Jim Sorbara’s wife.

Marisa (far right) was one of Adriana’s bridesmaids at her 1969 wedding.

Best man Joe Carrier with the bride and groom and Joe’s fiancée, Toni Barbesin.

Proud parents of the newlyweds. Grace and Sam Sorbara, front and centre, flanked by Ines and Andrea Piccinin.

Edward’s parents, Sam and Grace, in the 1980s.

My children are everything to me. They have given me a love that I could have never

experienced without them. They gave me ten times more patience because of that love. Without my four children, I would not be who I am.

After David was born in 1974, I knew I couldn’t go back to work. I was privileged enough to be able to stay home and if I was going to stay home, I wanted to have my babies. The rest would follow.

Thirteen months after David, Andrew was born. I remember that Edward dropped me off at the hospital while he parked the car and I walked into the maternity ward.

“I think the baby’s coming.”

The nurse said, “You walked the whole way your-self? You’re not supposed to do that.”

“You’d better hurry up.”

She said, “You young mothers all think you’re having the baby right away,” and, sure enough, Andrew was born twenty-five minutes later. Christina was born even quicker in 1978. For David, I had to wait until he turned.

Back then, fathers weren’t part of the birthing process. Edward’s Uncle Jim delivered all my babies at St. Michael’s Hospital. He was wonderful. I loved him very much and took care of him too after he retired and his wife died. When Mark was born in 1980, because Uncle Jim was head of gynecology at St. Mike’s, he signed an order saying I could stay in the hospital for a week. Normally, it was only three days, but I had three other children at home aged two, five and six.

Back then, you didn’t have the baby in your room. When Mark was born, it happened that there was a fire on the first floor of the hospital and the alarm was going off, so I ran into the nursery to grab Mark.

Made by Children

4 6 4 7

< The Sorbara family on the cover of Vita Sana magazine’s Christmas issue in 1986. (L to R) Marisa, David, Andrew, Christina, Mark and Edward.

There is a pilgrimage in Italy that my mother, my aunts, and my grandmother used to

do once a year to the Madonna of Miracles. When the first of my children bought a house, I brought back hearts from Italy for each of them that read, “May the Madonna bless your house and every person who lives in it.”

My son asked, “Mom, how did you think of that?”

“You have a new house and I wanted it blessed. That’s what your Nonna would have done.” That’s just how it is. I learned my loving from my mother and grandmother.

Beside my bed I keep a book of poems by e.e. cummings. I can’t get his poem about love out of my system:

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in

my heart) i am never without it (anywhere

i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing , my darling )

I copied it into a card for Edward’s birthday. He thanked me and I knew he was touched. Hugs and kisses mean a lot, but so do words when they are said sweetly, and sometimes it is difficult to say out loud what you feel when it’s not what you were used to.

Other times, you can’t say what’s in your heart because if you let it out, it will hurt people. They say the truth will set you free, but no one wants to hear the truth, so I keep things to myself and hope things

7 6 7 7

In My Heart

In My Heart, 2008.

iNtErior paGEs

ClotH BoND HarD CoVEr WitH GolD ENGraVED titlE

– 74 – – 75 –

P e t e C a r P e n t e r r u n n i n g F r o m F a i l u r e

Marrying Marilyn and Becoming a Father

MY first memory of Marilyn is probably in the 6th grade. I’d been attending school in Bromley, a small adjacent community, and switched to Ludlow Public School when we moved there in 1954. We were in different classes of the 6th grade. Then in the 7th grade I really noticed her. I was playing basketball and Marilyn was a cheerleader. She was the cute little girl that everybody loved. How could anyone not like Marilyn? She was very pretty, and a hard worker and really diligent with her schoolwork. Whereas I had some sharp edges on me, Marilyn always had round edges in her dealings with everybody. not surpris-ingly, she was the most popular girl in school and the teachers loved her.

In my junior year, I dated her best friend and one of my best friends dated her. Some time in our senior year we started dating. The first time I asked her out I called her from a phone booth in Ludlow. There was all this traffic noise in the background and I had to shout a bit. “Hello, Marilyn? Hi, it’s Pete!” Pause.

“Pete who?” she said. not the most auspicious beginning. “Pete Carpenter.” Luckily, she said yes, and we became girlfriend

and boyfriend and it got serious. I asked her to go to the Homecoming Dance with me, and Marilyn remembers me saying that night, “I’m going to marry you.” She thought I was crazy. Later, when I was between my first and second year in college, I proposed a little more formally

Marilyn Rex, Homecoming Queen, Ludlow High School, 1960

1. Newly engaged, Dana and Jon Ernst,

Thanksgiving Day 1988, Baltimore,

Maryland

2. Dana and Jon walking down the

aisle as Mr. and Mrs. 1

2

1. Proud and happy Dad with Dana on her wedding day, August 20, 1988, Baltimore, Maryland

2. Marilyn and Jon cutting up the dance floor at Dana and Jon’s wedding

1

2– 100 – – 101 –

P e t e C a r P e n t e r r u n n i n g F r o m F a i l u r ePart Two

My CSX Career

– 102 – – 103 –

P e t e C a r P e n t e r r u n n i n g F r o m F a i l u r e

1962, My First Railroad Job

I n 1962, when I was 20 and still in college, I got a summer job with the Louisville & nashville railroad as a brakeman at Decoursey rail yard in Latonia, Kentucky. as a kid I hadn’t been fanatical about trains, not like some people who get such a thrill being on a choo choo. But the railroad appealed to me on many levels.

For one thing, it had history and prestige. The Louisville & nashville – “the Old reliable” – had been chartered by the state of Kentucky in 1850 and Mt. Vernon was a stop on its route. People who worked for the railroad were considered pretty solid. Business-wise, the railroad had a much bigger platform than, say, a supermarket like Kroger’s. In later years, that proved true, as when I was running Michigan, it was just routine for me to call Governor Millican’s office and get right in to see him about something. If the local Kroger manager called the governor or even the mayor, that probably wouldn’t work very well. I know for sure that I wouldn’t have been the keynote speaker at an international energy conference if I’d gone to work for Kroger’s.

I also saw that the railroad had a lot of scope and potential. The sheer size of the operations captivated me, and I suppose the “romance of the rails” appealed to me; the travel to places unknown. I like geog-raphy and welcomed the opportunity to really get to know the places I’d seen on a map.

The Decoursey rail yard in Latonia, Kentucky

1. Snake River, Wyoming, 1990

2. Marilyn and me, Baltimore, Maryland, 1987

3. Dad and Dana, Epping Forest Yacht Club, 1991

1

2

3

Marilyn, Dana and me at the Greenbrier, 19874

2 3

21

1. With University of Florida President John Lombardi at the Commencement, 1996

2. With Danny Wuerffel, Heisman Trophy Winner, at the University of Florida Commencement

3. In 2005, I was inducted into the First Coast Business Hall of Fame.

1. Boy Scouts of America

Distinguished Citizen Award,

1998

2. The billboard announcing the

awards

3. My speech at the awards

4. In 1999, I received the Golden Palm

Award from the Ponce de Leon Society of the

Cummer Museum of Art & Gardens 1

3

Running From Failure Running From Failure

Pete CarPenter

Introduction

I think it’s important for children and grandkids to know where they came from and who their ancestors are. Some people have had very exciting lives, yet undocumented lives, and it becomes hard to piece it all together. When I look back, I’ve had quite a few adventures that might make some interesting reading, along with a few things I’ve learned over the years and the story of how and where I grew up. I’ve come a long way from my little hometown of Mt. Vernon, Kentucky, but there’s always going to be a piece of me back in those hills.

Boy ScoutS of AmericA 1998 DiStinguiSheD citizen AwArD

Running From FailurePete CarPenter

iNtErior paGEs

rouGH GarmENt lEatHEr BoND HarD CoVEr WitH GolD ENGraVED titlE aND DiE Cut pHoto

3S2 S1 1

Gerda

for Her 95th BirtHday, 2014

7S6 S1 1

Gerda, die ein Leben voll von allen möglichen und unmöglichen Herausforderungen gelebt hat und noch lebt;

Gerda, die einen Mann hatte, Hans-Erich, der ihr der Liebste war, obwohl er immer erst mal alles völlig verrückt fand;

Gerda, die zu unserm Mittelpunkt wurde, weil sie alle egozentrischen, idiosynkratischen und sonstigerweise unmöglichen Anwandlungen dieser Großfamilie nicht nur toleriert, sondern vorurteilsfrei und milde lächelnd akzeptiert hat und immer noch akzeptiert (höchstens mal leise vor sich hin kichernd);

Gerda, bei der sich jeder anwanzen, ausheulen, abreagieren, ausruhen und aufrichten konnte und immer noch kann;

Gerda, dieses Buch für Dich ist nur ein kleiner Ausdruck dafür, wie sehr wir Dich alle lieben.

Gerda, who has lived a life of all kinds of possible and impossible challenges, and is still living it;

Gerda, who had a husband, Hans-Erich, who was dearest to her even though he found every new idea totally crazy at first;

Gerda, who became our anchor because she not just tolerated but fully accepted all the egocentricities, idiosyncrasies and otherwise impossible attitudes of this extended family, with a smile (at the most perhaps giggling a bit);

Gerda, where one could always go to unwind, cry, laugh, relax, and recover, and still can.

Gerda this book for you is only a small expression of how much we all love you.

Happy Bir thday Tanta!

Preface

~ 17 ~

17S16 S2 3

Barbara WachendorffGerda

die ältere Schwester meines Vaters war die klassische tante in amerika – sie war ein Phantom.

als ich 12 Jahre alt war, kehrte sie zurück nach deutschland und wurde von einem tag auf den anderen teil unserer familie und damit meines Lebens.

in einem Leben, das aus langweiligem Schulbesuch im katholischen Mädchengymnasium, mäßigen erfolgen im Schwimmverein und ersten Verliebtheitsgefühlen bestand, war es eine Sensation, einer frau zu begegnen, die in amerika gelebt hatte und ich war sehr neugierig, sie kennen zu lernen.

Kurz nach ihrem einzug statteten wir der neuen tante (und natürlich auch dem onkel) einen Besuch ab. Schon auf halber treppe begann ich zu staunen: das obere Stockwerk des Hattenheimer Hauses hatte sich mit fremden, faszinierenden dingen gefüllt. auf dem treppenabsatz lagerten wie hingeworfen etliche Kunstobjekte. die Wohnungstür war mit tüchern verhängt, ein duft von räucherstäbchen (oder waren es Gewürze?) hing in der Luft.

fasziniert schaute ich mich um und betrachtete, während ich mit halbem ohr den Gesprächen der erwachsenen nicht folgte, diese Zauberwelt. ein Bild, auf dem eine frau von einem weißen Leoparden angefallen wird. Wow! eine Skulptur aus Pappe, offensichtlich eines Kindes, mit schwarzen und weißen Zeichen darauf, abstrakte Werke, auf die ich mir keinen reim machen konnte. eine bemalte Papierpuppe an zwei filigranen Stäben. Besondere anziehungskraft hatte ein Glasobjekt auf mich. an einem Stück Holz hingen, an Nylonfäden befestigt, Glaskreise, die Klänge produzi-erten, sobald ein Lufthauch an ihnen vorüberwehte. Gerda erzählte mir, das die Künstlerin am Strand das Holz gefunden habe und dann Glasflaschen zerschnitt um sie anschließend über ein feuer zu halten und zu verbiegen. das Kunst so einfach herzustellen sein könnte, war für mich eine ganz neue einsicht und ich überlegte lange, ob ich nicht rheingauer Weinflaschen in Scheiben schneiden sollte, um sie irgendwie zum klingen zu bringen. im Laufe der Jahre stellte ich fest, dass alle diese wundervollen Kunstwerke von freunden stammten und eine persönliche Geschichte aufwiesen. Was für ein aufregendes Leben zwischen Künstlern und intellektuellen musste die beiden in amerika gehabt haben!

Wenn wir Gerda und Hans erich in dieser Zeit besuchten, gab es häufig opulente und stilvolle Mahlzeiten. altes Porzellan, silberne Bestecke, der riesige Kandelaber...

~ 52 ~ ~ 53 ~

53S52 S7 7

Samuel Lowry

i am not completely sure how it is that Gerda and my mother, Nina Marucci, came to be important to each other, but over what i now – startled – realize amounted to many years, that’s what they did. it could have been the soup.

They shared an earlier time of life, in Portland, in the nineteen-sixties and seven-ties. They were familiar enough then that when as a very young man i vagabonded to europe, i was sent to, and welcomed by, Gerda and Hans, in Hattenheim, where they’d recently retired. it was an unexpected family-like welcome; i remembered them from social events as a child, but really was meeting them for the first time. My vagabond guitarist friend Steven and i were made to feel that our drifting-in was just the reason needed for a round of picnics, rhein boat trips, castle explorations, and museums. That ours coincided with visits from Hans’ grand-daughter, Karin, roughly our age, and Gerda’s youngest sister, Ursula (and daughter Sophie), made more reasons. But there was an almost suburban-american, your-kids-are-our-kids feel to the way we were made at home. it was unique, amid fifteen drifty months on the road.

CoNtriButors WrotE lEttErs iN GErmaN or ENGlisH aND proViDED pHotos to CElEBratE GErDa’s 95th BirtHDay

pErFECt BoND soFt CoVEr

Ed StEwartw i t h K a r e n d a l l i m o r e

a n d B e r n a d e t t e H a r d a k e r

It'S BEEn a

FUnrIdE

Ed Stewart Chronology

1955 age 23 married Jean, started the business built first 3-room home beside Ospringe garage

1957–59 Randy and Jeff born, started the feed business

1960 built second home beside school on 2nd Line

1961 bought the garage from Dad

1962 bought parts business

1963 put 36' x 40' addition on garage

1964 signed contract with Case, first major line

1965 signed contract with New Holland, second major line

1967 started selling Honda mini-bikes and motorcycles

1969 bought garage at 95 Main Street, Erin started selling Motoski snowmobiles

1971 sold Ed Stewart’s Garage, Ospringe, bought 21 acres on 7th Line (Trafalgar Road), picked up Rupp snowmobiles

1973 built house on Trafalgar Road

1974 started selling Arctic Cat snowmobiles

1978 bought property at Brisbane, fire burned out restaurant but car wash and garage okay, rebuilt immediately

1980 contract signed with Kubota, built first phase of dealership, 60' x 120' on two levels

It's Been a Fun Ride! 9

a weakness for Cars

TRuCkS were my dad’s thing, but he always kept a decent car and was generous

with the keys. If you had a car, it meant you could chase the girls. My first cars

were clunkers. The year after I started in dad’s garage at Ospringe, I bought my first

new car, a 1956 Meteor, 2-door, standard transmission. I think it had a radio. It

cost $2,635, which was a lot of money for a young guy of 24 just married and

starting out.

That ’56 Meteor had to be the drabbest grey and I told the guy on the lot from

B & R Motors in Guelph, “I don’t want a grey car. It’s the sickest-looking thing.”

“I’ll two-tone it.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“First, I’ll paint the car charcoal, put a chrome strip down the side and under that

strip would be charcoal again.” There was a little V wedge in the chrome on the side

and he painted that red. When he was done, it was a sharp-looking car and I bought

it. He was a good car salesman and I probably bought two or three more from him.

I hated owing money and I didn’t like finance because their rate was always

higher. When our first son Randy came along in 1956, on the way to the hospital to

pick up Jean and the baby I went around to Niagara Finance – scraped up enough Some of Ed’s early rides: 1958 Edsel Corsair, and his 1964 Ford Special 390, which was a particular favourite for Thursday night drag races down the highway!

ed’s rides1947 Monarch Coupe, 2-door

1949 2-door Meteor

1950 4-door Mercury

1956 2-door Meteor, first new car

1958 Edsel Corsair, 2-door hardtop

1964 Ford Galaxie 500, Interceptor 390, 2-door hardtop

1967 Galaxie 500 XL, 390, 2-door hardtop

1971 Ford LTD 4-door

1976 Buick 4-door

1983 4-door Lincoln Town Car

Ford Explorer

1985 Lincoln Continental, 4-door

1988 Ford 150

1993 Lincoln Continental

Ford Explorer

1999 Ford 150, 1½ cab

2009 Lincoln MKX

Ford 150 4-door

2011 Lincoln MKX

Ford 150 4-door

It's Been a Fun Ride!78 Ed Stewart 79

Horsepower Fever

HORSEPOWER was my hobby. I had horsepower fever – racing snowmobiles

in winter, stock cars and my horse in the summer and doing antique tractor pulling.

The cars lasted the longest, about 12 years. We ran a Sportsman Late Model on

short tracks from 1965 through the ’70s, and got to ride in some Super Late Models

with Hugh Eckerich and Bruce Bennett. I competed in the largest stock car race at

Cayuga – the 1974 “Carling Red Cap 250” – finishing 10th out of 32 cars.

When I was starting out at Ospringe, and we were looking for things to do to

make some money, I got pretty good at welding. I’d done a lot of tune-ups on cars

and set up a lot of street cars for guys who wanted them to go fast. In 1958 a couple

of friends, Floyd Craven and Hugh Eckerich, came in one day when the racetrack

at Ospringe opened up and asked me to help them put in a roll cage for a racecar.

There was a lot more to it than that, but we got this car built and we were going to

race it down the road at the Ospringe track.

There was a little shortage of funds to pay for the job, so I became an owner. The

three of us were going to take turns driving. The other guy was a lunatic and he was

going to kill everyone at the racetrack. You don’t wreck a car and win races. He got

barred from the track for the season when he broadsided another guy. It could have

been serious, but nobody got hurt and so it ended up with Hughie and me doing the

1. Jean posing in front of his 302 stockcar.

2. Ed decked out to race in his

Sportsman.

2

1

titlE paGE aND iNtErior paGEs

MAUD

A Passion for Life

pErFECt BoND liNEN tExturED soFt CoVEr

A Northern Girl

“If you compete with God, you’ll lose”

Home for Maud as a child depended on her father’s business ventures. Some houses they rented, some they owned. From Vännäs they went to Bredlyn, then Boliden and, finally, when she was fourteen, to Skellefteå. The first house in Skellefteå is the one she thinks of as home, not the big house by the river where her father lived at the end of his life.

It had five rooms, comfortable for the three of them. They had a telephone and electricity, but no running water, hand pumping it from the outside well or brunn. Bathwater was heated on the wood stove, baths conducted in the kitchen in a sit-down tub. The cellar under the house kept meat and root vegetables cool. Nobody had salad or fruit other than apples because there was no long distance refriger-ated transport. Everyone picked and preserved lingonberries in the summer and ate them at Christmas with cream. Maud remembers mushroom hunting after summer rains with her sister-in-law Anna. Chanterelles were the prize. Fish was a main staple of their diet, especially herring – it could be served dozens of different ways. Moose weren’t as plentiful then in Sweden as they are now, however Maud’s father was a successful hunter. Maud never learned to shoot. She couldn’t abide killing even a fish.

There was another reason Maud liked that first house in Skellefteå. The neighbours had five children and the eldest was as handsome as a movie star.

School girl in Skellefteå, about twelve years old.

21

The Spy Who Deceived Her

“Why not get married?”

The train trip through Germany to Zurich in 1947 was difficult. Two years after the war, and town after town was still in ruins. Food was scarce. Every hundred metres, ragged people stood along the tracks with their hands out, begging. Some passengers threw food or cigarettes. Others turned their backs. One Norwegian man said, “We didn’t have anything to eat either, but we didn’t go out and beg.”

Switzerland, in contrast to much of the rest of Europe, was intact. Zurich was a vibrant city, filled with young people ready to live and put the war behind them, and Maud was ready to do her part. Yes, she agreed with the Swedish king when he exhorted his subjects to behave well when they travelled abroad in this new postwar Europe. That’s why whenever asked at a party, she always said she was from Denmark!

You know how it is when you come to a new city. You make a casual friend, who introduces you to another friend, who gives you a lead on a place to live, who knows where you can work without a visa as a waitress or a model. Walter Sulzberger, who later became her doctor, and Hans Egger were among those early friends.

Hans was a painter and sculptor, about forty. He found Maud work as a runway model and gallery assistant. He had beautiful taste and a beautiful apartment where he often let Maud stay. He was one of the first gay men she had ever met. Maud, her mother and Ciri in front of the Basilica di San Marco, Venice, 1948.

41

Love of Her Life

“ I’ve never seen two people who should be together as much as you two”

In 1959, Maud had the chance to open a second, larger store in a new building in the centre of Zurich. She called it Hänsel und Gretel. Maud meticulously designed and supervised construction of every detail for the store, from the fixtures to the fairy tale frieze on the back wall. She even had a curved slide built and a flight cage filled with birds to entertain children while their mothers shopped. The store was a sensation – her clients, the rich and famous. She expanded and opened a third store in Basel. But her professional success was costing her. She was constantly wracked with guilt – at work, feeling she should be with the children and at home, feeling she should be at work. Combined with the strain of her marriage, her health was suffering. Her doctor urged her to get away to rest. Sweden had always been a refuge – Christmases with the children at her sister’s – this time she left them with Schwester.

On a stopover in Stockholm, before taking the train to Skellefteå the next evening, she passed her time window shopping on Kungsgatan. As she waited to cross the street, a man in a car stopped at the lights and rolled down his window.

“Maud?” She recognized his voice in half a breath. It was Jan. She thought she would pass out.

“Where are you staying?” She told him.

“I’ll call you.” The light changed and then he was gone. She didn’t know what

Maud designed and had custom built all the store’s furnishings.

63

Around the World

“You go with the flow”

Geography had always been Maud’s favourite subject in school and atlases among her favourite books. As a girl she poured over maps and pictures, imagining trips to faraway places. What intrigued her most was the Pacific – the lush vegetation, the extravagant flowers, the heat – everything the opposite of cold, dark, wintry Sweden. On a dull winter’s day in Toronto, Maud and Audrey used to pull out the big atlas and count the countries they’d visited. Maud: 108, Audrey: 97. They’d have a drink, look at pictures, and relive memories of their shared adventures.

Audrey Powers lived in the same condo building as Maud. They used to nod at each other in the pool. One day, her bridge group was short a fourth, so Maud asked Audrey if she played. After the game was over, Audrey stayed behind and they visited. Maud mentioned she was going to Australia with a group. Was Audrey interested? Audrey said yes, but Maud didn’t take her seriously because so many people say they want to do things and then never do.

But Audrey meant it and Maud liked her for it. It’s been a hallmark of their friendship ever since. Audrey only says what she means and always means what she says. When Audrey introduced Maud to her daughter Ellen and Ellen’s husband Nick Kammer, Maud became part of Ellen’s family.

Audrey and Maud were “The Smart Chicks.”In June 2008 Giselle wanted to make a documentary about them driving

across Canada in Maud’s Smart car. It didn’t happen but they still had fun.

85

MAUD

A Passion for LifeMaud Edström Hillwith Bernadette Hardaker

Its Maud’s 90th Birthday…Be there!

iNtErior paGEs CElEBratE mauD’s liFE For HEr 90th BirtHDay