I treasure her but my muse is mute, the beautiful words hide themselves, they fear she will see in them what she wants only and not what they mean to say. I quote poetry instead, only for now only until the muse returns must the great poets say what I cannot.
munger
August 4, 1928 – New York City
——–
)
New York Aug. 4. 1928
My dear Jeanie:–
I called up this evening at 7 P.M.
figuring that you’d be at dinner, but again
out of luck, it seems that you over there
are also afflicted with the hot spell, for the
propriator told me that all guests went
down to the lake to escape the heat, but
I was happy indeed to hear that you’re
getting along fine.1
The heat last night was the most severe
of the season, the city streets were deserted
and I went moonlight bathing, the beach
presented a strange spectacle at mid-
night thousands bathing in the tall waves
of the ocean while tens of thousands were
sleeping on the sands.2
./.
)
2.
But I enjoyed night bathing
immensely refreshing myself without
the fear of getting sunburned.
As I sat later on the beach thinking
of you a longing betook me as I heard
an orchestra at some building on the
boardwalk play the beautiful tender
strains of Lehar’s Merry Widow waltz, I
would have given part of my life to hold
you in my arms just that moment.3
This evening I visited your folks
Everybody is O.K. Rose and the kids were
there, when Shirley saw me coming she
said Maah Shamah go she says to me
gimmie an Jean. Ain’t she smart?
I argued with Sally for not writing
to you oftener.
./.
)
3.
As soon as I will be through with
this I’ll go for another dip in C.I. but
there will be little moon if any cause
heavy clouds are gathering now.
If these clouds should bring rain
it would be a relief especially to my
suffering East side neighbors.4
I’m sure that you have already received
the candy package that I mailed you
Thursday morning, this morning I mailed
you some magazines.
If I didn’t know you all through
Id get sore but I know that you
at heard didn’t mean what you wrote
me that you [were] in a way happy to hear
from me I know that you were all
happy, and I’m only writing to make
you happy, and nothing would be
too big for me to offer for your happiness.
./.
)
4.
If you meant to tease me please
don’t repeat that, enough about that.
What other news can I write you?
Ma went tonight to sleep at Roses house
that she may be early on the beach
tomorrow with her, and by the way if
it interest you to know Rose bought a
nice black size 50 bathing suit but
it is a little tight.
As I am not writing this at home
(to your luck) I have no poem to add
I cannot memorize what I had in thought
to write and my books are at home.6
So my dear I am closing with
an earnest plea that you may write
a nice long long letter, and remain
Your Ever faithful
Harry
————-
Matt’s Notes
1 – When Papa wrote this letter, my grandmother was vacationing at the Viola House in Lake Huntington, New York. As we’ve discussed before, my grandmother, like many other Jewish New Yorkers of the Twentieth Century, would spend a bit of every summer at a Catskill Mountain “Borscht Belt” hotel like the Viola.
2 – According to the New York Times, the heat wave of August 1928 was the most severe in 46 years. It would kill at least fourteen people.
3 –
4 – If Papa wound up going back to Coney Island on the night of August 4th as he intended, he would have been caught in a sudden, severe thunderstorm and a resulting 600,000-person stampede for shelter. Oddly, three people would die that night of electrocution: one was a policeman who touched a fallen power line; the second was a swimmer who was struck by lighting; the third was a 16-year-old named Gertrude Neidenberg who fell from the Ocean Parkway subway platform and landed on the third rail.
Here’s a creepy thing: Ms. Neidenberg lived at 36 Attorney Street in Manhattan, just a few doors down from Papa apartment at number 96. It’s grotesquely ironic, but she was literally one of Papa’s “suffering East side neighbors” for whom he hoped the rain would provide some relief.
5 – Remember that my grandmother had been trying to cool Papa’s ardor for three years at this point, so I’m sure she meant to disorient him when she said she was only “in a way” happy to hear from him. I should point out, though, that qualified compliments and other minor jabs like this were not a stretch for her — they were part of her everyday conversation, and Papa had probably been on the receiving end of them since he first met her.
6 – Papa quoted a love poem by Robert Burns in his August 2, 1928 letter and a one by Robert Browning in his July 31st letter.
————–
References:
- RECORD HEAT STIFLES CITY AND THE EAST; THREE DROWN HERE; Five Fatalities in City, Ten Persons Felled on Hottest Aug. 3 in 46 Years. – The New York Times, August 4, 1928
- STORM KILLS THREE, STAMPEDES 600,000; 3 HEAT DEATHS HERE; Crowds Seeking Relief at Coney Make Rush for Trains When Rain Starts. – The New York Times, August 5, 1928
———–
Audio Source: The Merry Widow Waltz (1907) recorded by the Victor Dance Orchestra. Via Archive.org.
Papa, as we know, was a huge opera fan, so he would have known the “Merry Widow Waltz” quite well. Here’s a video clip of the scene in “The Merry Widow” in which it appears (via YouTube):
August 6, 1928 – New York City
——–
)
N.Y. Aug 6. 1928. 12 P.M.
Mon cherie amie Jeanie:1
I worked very late today and then had
to go to a meeting,2 and now is my only chance
to write you a few lines, I expected to find a letter
from you today, but evidently the mail carrier must
have saved it to deliver it to me in person tomorrow
morning3. Everybody [at] home is O.K. the card is the
only means of writing to you as I have no stamps in
the house. Tomorrow I will write a letter.
Regards to the Wise girls and good night Dear.
P.S. It’s nice and cool here now.4
Your
Harry
————–
1 – Papa’s given this card a French accent, addressing it to “Mmle. Jean de Pollack” and adding the salutation “Mon cherie amie Jeanie”. If such levity seems out of place on this site, it’s because Papa’s diary and letters focus so much on his melancholy, his most difficult personal changes, and the narrative of his romantic frustration. Every so often, though, it’s good to be reminded that he was not some kind of brooding wretch, but was actually quite energetic, optimistic and even capable of a little schtick.
2 – Papa was a labor activist, a dedicated member of the Zionist Organization of America (he had been a delegate to its conventions in 1926 and 1927) and a co-founder of “The Maccabean” chapter of Order Sons of Zion (a.k.a. B’nai Zion) a Zionist fraternal order and mutual support society, so he frequently found himself at organizational meetings and other sorts of events after work. He found these activities to be deeply fulfilling and stimulating; perhaps the satisfying work he did earlier in the day accounts for the relaxed and cheerful tone of this card.
3 – Papa punctuates almost every piece of correspondence to my grandmother with some plea for her to write more often. I suppose this little joke about the mail carrier holding her letters is another sign of his chipper mood, but he truly felt disturbed by her indifference toward communicating with him.
This joke tells us a little bit about life in 1920’s New York, too, by reminding us that mail came twice a day back then and that there would have been some kind of inherent familiarity between people like Papa and their mail carriers. By contrast, I rarely find myself hoping for any mail delivery except, say, the next installment of “The Wire” from Netflix, and I almost never see my mail carrier.
4 – In his last letter, Papa described a “strange spectacle at midnight” on the beach at Coney Island, with “thousands bathing in the tall waves of the ocean while tens of thousands were sleeping on the sands” during a dangerous heat wave. Temperatures finally broke on August 6th, as Papa notes above, and dropped from the 90’s to the 70’s.
—————
References:
- Sharp Drop in Temperature Brings Relief to the City – The New York Times, August 7th 1928.
August 7, 1928 – New York City
1
——–
)
Aug 7, 1928 10 P.M.
My beloved Jeanie:
You will know by the paper I’m using that
I’m using that (pardon this error) I’m writing this at your home.2
Oh Dear if you only knew how miserable I felt
all day yesterday and today without news from you
you would realize how happy I was when I heard
your sweet voice on the phone, I was so determined
to speak to you that I would have waited all
night until you’d come to the phone from anywhere,
and I will surely call you on Saturday at
8:30 Eastern daylight saving time to find out from
you at what time we may expect you, and whether
I should wait for you at the Wise home or not,
I am under the impression that that man will
not arrive there before 12 noon as he might try to
bring passengers along on the [trip] there, and perhaps
he might be there Saturday night yet, at any
rate you will be able to tell me more about it3
[I, your father,
and your mother, send you the best wishes that you
should be healthy and remain healthy, from me,
your father Shimon David Ben Jacob Pollack.]4
)
at the appointed time on Sat. night.
Mom tells me now that she sent you
a letter today, the only news that I can add is
that Murray (your Intended in law) intends
to come this Sunday with a truck (exactly
a truck) to give your folks and Sally a ride
to Coney Island, You know that his car is rather
small for the whole family therefore the truck idea.
It’s too bad that you will have to miss this sport,
Last Sunday he (Murray) 5 gave pop a ride in his
Pierce and as Sadie was in it too, he had to
take the door out so as far as air is concerned
they had plenty of it and by the way Sally is
out with him now having their Midsummernightsdream
and if she ever saw this she’d shoot me with a
knife. 6
Your folks were glad to hear that I’ve spoken to
you they’re O.K. and kibitzing.
Please write at least one more letter before you
return besides those you’ve already written.
Closing with Love and Kisses
Harry
More greetings to the Wise sisters
)
P.S.
I’m adding this at home, your
father added his love and ma’s
you will easily recognize his handwriting
He signs his full Hebrew name as follows
Shimon David Ben (Son of) Jacob Pollack
Please don’t think because of my
funny writing that I’m casting any
reflections upon Murray God forbid!
I think him a fine gentleman of fine
calibre whom I tip my hat for, I’ve grown
to like and admire him, I’m sure Sally
does and that you’ll like him too 7
Love Harry
————
1 – Papa addressed this letter to “Fraulein Jean Pollack”, continuing a little foreign honorific joke he started when he addressed his last letter to “Mmle Jean de Pollack”. Perhaps, if Papa had reason to write more, he might have joked in all of the seven languages he spoke. Alas, my grandmother was about to return from her summer vacation, so this is the last letter Papa wrote to her (or at least the last she saved) in 1928.
2 – I’m not quite sure what Papa means by “You will know by the paper I’m using that I’m writing this at your home” since he’s written this letter on what appears to be ruled notebook paper as opposed to some kind of recognizable stationery. Perhaps, if he wasn’t writing on his own paper and therefore not at home, my grandmother would have assumed he was at her family’s home because he hung around there so much.
3 – This paragraph seems a little cryptic, but I suppose “that man” is merely the person who was giving my grandmother a ride back from the country and dropping her at “the Wise home.”
4 – As Papa notes in his postscript, my grandmother’s father wrote this passage in Yiddish, most likely at Papa’s behest. Here’s how it looks up close:
We know Papa put a big premium on whether or not people wrote to each other and had been trying to get my grandmother’s family to write her more often for years (just as he had been trying to get my grandmother to write him more often). His first letter to her contains a reluctantly-penned passage from her sister Sally; in subsequent letters, he assures her that others intend to send her letters; and here, five years later, he’s finally gotten her father to scribble a few lines to her. I wonder if my grandmother’s family began to dread Papa’s visits because they knew each one would involve a discussion of their correspondence habits.
I’m kind of amused by the contents of the note, too. It reads more like a prayer than a greeting, a request from God for good health with an implicit reminder to my grandmother of how thankful she should be for the absence of illness in her body. Note, too, how my great-grandfather phrases his request, wishing not only that my grandmother “should be healthy” in the present but that she should “remain healthy” in the future as well, a clever hedge designed to make sure God doesn’t lose track of my grandmother’s condition or play gotcha with my great-grandfather’s request (“well, you didn’t say whether or not she had to remain healthy, did you?”). Ladies and gentlemen, these are my people, the Jews — always waiting for God, that prankster, to nail us on a technicality.
5 – So, Sally is engaged at last!
For those of you just joining us, Papa was introduced to my grandmother’s sister, Sally, for matrimonial purposes in early 1925 but fell in love with my grandmother instead. This didn’t sit will with my grandmother’s family, a relatively wealthy bunch who considered Papa, a salaried garment worker, good enough for the less desirable, grouchy Sally but not in the same league as my beautiful, younger grandmother. Sally probably didn’t feel too good about it either, nor could Papa’s dogged pursuit of my grandmother’s hand have done a lot for Sally and my grandmother’s already strained relationship.
But, here we are in 1928, and it’s a new day as Murray, Sally’s future husband and the man with whom she would raise a child (my cousin Doris) comes around regularly and takes the family on excursions in his various vehicles. Here’s what his 1928 Pierce-Arrow might have looked like (via webshots.com):
And if the truck in which he brought everyone to Coney was a Ford pickup, it might have looked a little something like this (via Wikimedia):
I’d like to say Murray’s presence and Sally’s new found bliss helped ease the tensions between Sally and my grandmother, but they still found plenty to fight about in the ensuing decades.
6 – I can’t tell if the phrase “shoot me with a knife” is an amusing slip of Papa’s pen or if it was some kind of comical catch phrase in the 1920’s. In any event, I’m going to say it from now on.
7 – This postscript appears on what looks to be a torn-off piece of brown wrapping paper. It’s not Papa’s style to write on scraps, but even though he was out of writing paper he really must have really wanted to make sure, for the record, that my grandmother didn’t think he was “casting reflections” on Murray.
Henington Hall Photos
A couple of months ago I jumped on my bike and rode around Manhattan to photograph some of the locations Papa mentions in his 1924 diary. One of these was Henington Hall on 2nd Street near Avenue B, where Papa’s congregation met for services on October 20th, 1924. Unlike many of the places Papa knew in his youth, the Henington Hall building (or at least its facade) is still there:
A stone above the entrance indicates that it was built in 1908 (though a rezoning report issued by the City of New York in May of 2008 says it was built “prior to 1903”):
It’s not a grand or glorious building, but it still has some interesting details. I’m especially intrigued by the way its address (214-216 2nd St.) appears above the entrance porch:
I imagine Papa took a long look at it at least once.
September 22, 1929 – New York City
——–
)
(September 22, 1929)
Sunday Night
Jeanie Dear: –
It is heart filled with grief that I’m writing these
lines, believe me the greatest physical pain would
not have caused me one millionth part of the agony I
am undergoing now after I’ve seen the other fellow again
with you.
Oh my Beloved maybe I am naive but I cannot
understand you, how in the world could you concienciously
play me the way you did?
But I will forget it all never to mention it, just
come back to my arms, to the one how has proven [to] you
by word and deed that he he loves you above everything
else in this or any other world, Do you know that
only genuine love can make a fellow humble himself like
I’m doing in pleading with you my cause, Just ask your
brother or any other fine fellow you know if they’d ever
care to see a girl who’d do to them what you did to me.
But my case is different, During the course of five years
my love has turned from mere friendship into the most
ardent affection, I have already been making plans
for you, only recently we’ve been conversing about an
engagement ring, Haven’t you encouraged me beloved
to dare hope? I have already begun planning for our
future, mapping out a life plan which would be ./.
)
2.
ideal for both of us, The sun was beginning to
cast its rays for me too, Although possessing not
riches I pictured our future life an idealistic one
with a cultured background, I even told you a few days
ago that I was ambitious to see [you] become a leader in the
Junior Hadassah, Do you think that If I am not rich
now I’ll have to remain this way for the rest of my life?
Why, the right thing to do is to stand by me inspire and
encourage me, and believe me you can never tell what the
results will be.
I don’t know wheather the other fellow is rich or not, but
one thing I’m sure no one can love you as I do, you know
that in the five years I’ve gone through thick and thin for and
with you, have gladly shared your troubles and burdens, please
don’t say that you did not encourage me, you did in many ways.
It was my great love for you that caused me to leave many
chances — I shall mention at least two, Miss Schneiderman
a daughter of my lodge member a fine type of girl loved
me dearly, I gave her no occasion to do so but she declared
her affections to me both verbally and in script, she is
married now.
The other one you remember very well when
I have returned a picture and letter of a fine girl (I did
it as Roses house) Why did I reject both these
proposals and others you don’t know of, just because
)
3.
I loved you and always will love you to the point
of madness,
Was there ever anything that I have hidden from
you? Haven’t I always been square with you and
everybody?
Haven’t you been introduced to all of my family as
my girlfriend and if there were in Bridgeport
some that didn’t know of our friendship, our visit
there acquainted them with the fact.
Don’t all my friends know you as my “girl friend”?
You went with me everywhere, everywhere, when
I pleaded with you two weeks ago please don’t go
up to my place of employment unless you can be
introduced officially as my sweetheart? You did
not object to being introduced as such.
What do you call encouragement? May my soul
be accursed if I am trying to bring up the subject of
money, in the first year of our “keeping company”
you remarked time and again when I offered a gift
a little gift that you cannot accept anything from a friend
that it was proper to accept from a sweetheart only
so I abstained from offering things.
But from the second year on you have been accepting
little gifts regularly from me, I hurts me [to mention it] beloved but
I had to mention these facts to prove my contention
4.
that I was encouraged to consider myself your
sweetheart, At many occasions you have suggested
what I should bring you, Even yesterday after I told
you how miserably I felt seeing the other fellow with you
you accepted a gift, and [you were] mentioning other things you would
like to have.
Perhap I should not have written this long letter [at all]
but I am suffering so, and feel that I must write to you.
Am I really so bad in your eyes that after 5 years
you have to experiment with other young men? Please
think it over don’t act hasty, If you drop me
now know that you will have wrecked a life for my
life will have no meaning [for me] and be a burden.
In this moment however I’m still hopeful that the
little spark of love you have for me (I am more than certain
that you love me [at least] a little) will develop into a flame that
will never be extinguished.
I shall call at your home this week Jeanie Dear
I will forget what happened, just be mine only before the
Eyes of God and Man.
Please forgive if I wrote wrote anything offensive
I wrote these lines I may say in a state of excitement
Please write me a word encouragement in the
enclosed stamped envelope by return mail.
Your lovesick
Harry
—————-
Matt’s Notes
I think I have some idea of why Papa foreswore pursuit of all other women immediately upon meeting my grandmother in 1925. I’ve discussed it before, but I don’t mind revisiting it because I’m not sure I’ve ever gotten it quite right. So, let’s try again:
Papa’s did not arrive in America as a young child with no memory of the old country. He was eighteen, already built for life in an Eastern European hamlet where he enjoyed some prominence as the local Torah scholar’s son. Though he knew why he had to leave an increasingly anti-Semitic and inhospitable Europe, and thoough he did his best to establish himself in New York, he found it hard to finish growing up without his beloved father’s guidance, found himself longing instead for the simple comforts of his boyhood and the familiar old world.
Instinctively caring and naturally generous, he hoped to marry and have a family of his own, but the disorienting whirl of life as an alien in America, the crass and clanging existence that took him daily from the tenements of the Lower East Side to the factories of the garment district, pushed him to escape, pushed him into daydreams of the world he’d left behind. He began to idealize his childhood companions, the woods surrounding his little hamlet, the way his neighbors embraced Judaism. His father, who raised a family despite his “crippled” arm, took on heroic proportions. The more Papa experienced New York’s cacophony, the more perfect, quiet and safe his past seemed, the more vital an emotional refuge it became. He taught himself to believe his old life was still there, waiting for him to return, and this dream became precious to him, essential to his survival.
To lay down roots in America would mean he’d have to give up his dream and sever his connection to the old country; to fall in love would be the first step. This unacknowledged thought drove him, I think, to avoid settling down, to feel unenthusiastic about perfectly acceptable women and to chase only those who would disappoint him. (The Miss Schneidermann mentioned above appears several times in Papa’s 1924 diary, one of a long line of women for whom, to his own dismay, he couldn’t drum up much enthusiasm.) He was frustrated and he was lonely, but, unknowingly, he was unable, even uninterested, in the alternative. The months and years went by, and Papa found himself in limbo. By the time he started his 1924 diary, he was, I think, somewhat aware of what had happened to him, but limbo is hard place to escape; perhaps he was reluctant to leave it because he didn’t want to look back on how much time he’d wasted there.
His father’s death in 1924 was a terrible shock to him, but it also helped break the old country’s spell (Papa observed that he experienced “something like lost paradise” as he mourned, a biblical and literary reference to the end of dreamy innocence and the beginning of adult reality). Catapulted from limbo at last, he developed an urgent need to make up for lost time, to become a caring and committed family man, to belong somewhere again. He was twenty-nine.
Papa met my grandmother shortly after this urgency struck, and she was perfectly suited to his newfound purpose. At eighteen, she was mature enough to be an object of desire but young enough to require a paternal sort of care — that is, she could be both wife and child to someone who wanted both immediately. She was faithful, from a successful family, and as an “American” (as Papa called Jews who were born in America) she was someone who could help him feel more rooted to his adopted country. She was also a difficult person who could be glum, dissatisfied and confrontational, but this was attractive to him, too, for living with such a person would offer him a fine chance to express his capacity for self-sacrifice and empathy. In combination with my grandmother’s physical beauty, all these things made her seem perfect to him. He was smitten, he was committed, and he vowed to marry her.
There were, of course, a few of problems with his plan: At eighteen, my grandmother had no intention of marrying anyone soon; ter family saw her as their treasure, and did not want her to be with a man of such modest means (as we have mentioned before, her family actually tried to set Papa up with my grandmother’s far less desirable sister, Sally, figuring she couldn’t do much better); the difficult qualities that Papa found so alluring in her also made her exactly the sort of person who would not succumb to a whirlwind courtship; as flattering as Papa’s sudden and passionate attention surely was, my grandmother may have found it a little creepy; she undoubtedly had her share of desirable and successful suitors, and she enjoyed their attentions. Finally, she had a mean streak, and would have taken some pleasure in making him wonder and making him wait, so make him wonder and wait she did.
So much of what I’ve mentioned above was going on under the surface, of course. Though Papa was quite insightful and introspective, neither he nor my grandmother lived in a post-Freudian world in which people regularly questioned the “real motivations” behind their decisions and choices. Their day-to-day relationship unfolded much as we’ve seen it unfold in their letters, with Papa a bit on edge as he waited for my grandmother to return his affections, and my grandmother taking him for granted while she played the field. This seemed reasonable to Papa for a while, I suppose.
Which brings us to the state of things as of September 22, 1929: For five years, Papa has courted my grandmother to the exclusion of all other women, maintaining his loyalty to her as if their eventual marriage were a foregone conclusion. For five years he has been distressed by her lack of interest in communicating with him, though he has tried to show good humor in the face of her seeming indifference, as if each excuse for not writing, each missed phone appointment, was some sort of lapse, out of character. For five years he has parried her family’s attempts to steer him toward her less desirable sister, ignored their low-key insults and disrespect for his modest station. For five years he has portrayed her contact with other suitors as a private, if uncomfortable, joke, nothing more than a little game designed to keep things interesting, a way for her to make a show of due diligence for formality’s sake.
Five years is a long time to live like this, though, especially since Papa had so pointedly committed himself to my grandmother in order to yank himself out of the very sort of limbo in which she now held him. At thirty-four, he must have thought none of his accomplishments at work or in the labor movement or in Zionist circles mattered because his impatience, frustration, and unacknowledged anger toward my grandmother made him weary, depressed, benumbed. Papa’s letter also implies that my grandmother had even hinted at her intention to marry him, had rejected her other suitors. Finally, we should remember that, when Papa wrote the above letter, the fifth anniversary of his father’s death had just passed, and the late September season, laden with Jewish high holy days, made him miss his lost loved ones, and the old world, more keenly than usual. It’s no wonder, then, that the dam finally bursts when he sees my grandmother another man.
I won’t comment much on the contents of Papa’s letter, since it speaks for itself, though I will say I’m intrigued by the way he’s saw hints and signals in her actions over the years when she probably had no intention of delivering any. For example, because she said she wouldn’t accept gifts from a platonic friend, he was sure she’d wordlessly declared her affection for him by accepting gifts two years into their relationship. Did Papa really think this was true, or was it something he only put together in retrospect, perhaps to comfort himself when puzzling over her continued indifference? And how many other little facts and quotes and actions had he catalogued to convince himself that his commitment to my grandmother wasn’t a waste of time? How often did he turn these things over in his mind? How much time did he spend obsessing over them, and over her?
Papa, this letter is difficult to read. It is hurried, impassioned, ill-advised (in your concluding words, you even seem to regret writing it, though obviously you still sent it). It’s hard to watch you — who were so steady, wise, and inherently optimistic — panic so completely, convinced your life is on the verge of ruin. It is almost impossible to think that you, who had been through so much, who knew your world was your own to make, who understood so well the hearts of others, would presume a sheltered twenty-three-year-old could destroy you when she had, in reality, done nothing but unknowingly become the person you privately considered your savior.
I can do no more than remind you again that, Papa, this is you:
September 23, 1929 – New York City
——–
)
Jeanie Dear: –
If I was excited last night I am fully aware
of what I am saying now, I am really ashamed of
myself. If I said things insulting and of having your
mother [excited] so much, I am sober now, sober but suffering
immensely pangs worse than death, Never before did
I realize how close I am at losing you as I am now.
How I messed up things.
But can’t you see that it was a fit of jealousy that
almost maddened me, and [upon] my word of honor this was
the first time that it ever occurred to me to get into
the situation I am in,
Picture yourself how completely I was taken by
surprise to find you alongside your other boy friend
with his arms around you, my heart almost flew out.
Every person possesses enough knowledge of human
psychology to sympathize with a person in my state of mind
I was in last night, You therefore should not condemn me
In order not to burst in tears in front of your father I went
home soon after you left, but I remember telling your mother
that I cannot give you up as a parting word. 1
No about your letter, It is true that I told you long
ago that I would step aside should you fall in love with
someone else, of course. I would have to, whether I like
it or not, but when one cherishes something I realize now ./.
)
2
that one has to fight for it,
I fully realize that you are entitled, more than entitled
to be happy with the one of your own choice, but I
misunderstood your attitude toward me it seems or
would not have dreamed and planned for our future.
Oh please I plead with you don’t think me so rude or
bad, during the past 5 years you’ve had enough
time to observe that I am not as bad as I seemed to
be last night, There is no person in this whole wide
world that can say that I have harmed or wronged
anybody.
I humbly beg forgiveness for my childish sort of
action last night.
Inasmuch as I hate to refute you, I must try to
bring back to you recollections of a conversation when
you still lived at 183 a short time before you moved. 2
You said to me then that I was just talking but don’t
mean what I’m saying I then stated that I was ready
to buy you a ring, You asked how much I would spend
I said $500. You said that it was too cheap, that Sadie
had a better ring and that you would like to get one
like Yetta Hammers you also said what you’re saying
in this letter that I haven’t got at extra $25 for an
engagement ring, I said that at that time was was
ready to spend $500 -. Being cooly received with
)
3
My ring proposal I abstained from pressing the
subject any further, It is possible that you did not
take me seriously or you were not in earnest and so
it slipped off your mind. 3
And now please please consider of what I am
about to write.
I don’t think that I need further illustrate my
great undying love for you We know very well each
others faults and weaknesses, to me it seems that we
have known each other for ages we cannot get separated,
the only way you can separate from me is when you
tear my heart out to remain with you.
Without you my dear I am doomed to stoop
into the lowest depths of destitude, with you the world
is mine to conquer, I am not writing this to influence
you in my favor.
I want to you to love me, I would try hard very
hard to be deserving of same, to slave away for
you would be a pleasure, I know what your feared most
if you had been with me it is misery, but you were
wrong, I am fully capable now to provide for
a family I would be more than capable to provide for
a household, and with one kind word of encouragement
nothing would stop me from going out to make money
working nights, etc. 4 At this moment I am thinking that
./.
4
now would be the opportune time to open a dress
store with you without giving up my daily job
temporarily, with this project a success I can
see a number of chain stores ahead, of course all
this requires hard very hard work but most of all
insipiration, and you know what I mean, 5
And I have never given up my ambition to write,
more than ever I am thinking of it now, With God
Almighty’s help I shall take advantage of every moment
the muse is with me and put down on paper any idea
I may get at any time or any moment. 6
No Jeanie dear concentrate, consult with your
innermost soul, you know you have your caprices which
I honestly believe that I alone can understand, and
here I am pledging to you a life of service, I do not
ask hasty action, can’t you see that a turning point
has arrived abruptly when we have to show our cards
on the table, I am not so impatient as you may be
inclined to believe, All I am asking is please, please
do not reject me now consult your mother, father etc.
please don’t be swayed by prejudice against me,
I welcome an opportunity for you to study other boy
friends, don’t think (if you are) that because I
am not dancer I am passe. You my dear know very
well my worldly leanings.
./.
)
5.
My world is the one of literature and [the] arts, I
solemnly pledge myself to make you socially prominent
not only in my immediate circle of friends but into
foremost Jewish society, this is part of my great ambition
Again, with you at my side as my own nothing
could stop me I honestly believe to climb the narrow
ladder of success.
My diagnosis is that disappointments, setbacks
and fear of losing you have tended to keep me back,
I’ll treatment on your past one dissolutions after
another have certainly contributed to my discouragement
the reject [text illegible] I am further way from success than
I was 5 years ago. 7
I feel that I could not have opened my heart
to anyone not even to my mother the way I did to
you in this letter,
Contrary to last night my eyes are dry now
I am [not] just writing impulsively, my mind and heart
are cooperating, I could write a lot more,
Please read it through carefully, over again if
necessary but no hasty action please pro or con
I shall call upon you Thursday as you desire
but please forget and forgive for what happened
last night should you desire me to stay away
for awhile please say it kindly without hurting
)
me, I pray that Allmighty shows you the vision
whereby you can see the right path on which
your future life depends.
Please do me this one favor tell your mother
that I feel that my action that got her so excited
will ever be a stain upon my character, She has
always been to me the impersonation of everything that
is noble and beautiful.
About your father you need not worry he has
plenty of his own troubles he won’t know of mine.
Memories oh without you they will haunt
me and torture me a great deal is written down
in diaries until I discontinued them about 2 years
ago but they can never be eradicated from my mind. 8
I am again enclosing a stamped envelope
after baring my heart to you I expect a different sort
of reply.
I am awaiting your reply with trembling heart
I shall never act again like I did last night, Please
state the exact time you’ll be home Thursday night.
As a parting word PLEASE let bygones be bygones.
Your tried lover
Harry
————
Matt’s Notes
1 – In his last letter, written a few hours before this one, Papa expressed the raw dismay he felt immediately after seeing my grandmother with another boyfriend. This would have been bad enough had he merely seen them on the street or cuddling on a park bench, but, according to this letter, Papa encountered “the other fellow” in my grandmother’s house while paying a casual call.
Then, it seems, Papa gamely stuck around until my grandmother and her interloping companion went off together, after which he made some kind of testy declaration to my great-grandmother, went home, and started writing. He sees this, his second letter, as more “sober” and reasonable than the first, but I think it’s even more disjointed and anxious.
For those of you just joining us, a little context: Papa foreswore all other women the moment he met my grandmother and had, at the time he wrote this letter, already courted her for five long years despite her serious efforts to dissuade him. We could chalk up this dogged commitment to the magic of Cupid’s arrow (he was a romantic with a proven capacity for feeling passionately smitten) but I think it was also the solution to a complicated emotional puzzle that Papa had been trying to solve for most of his adult life. I’m not sure I possess, in Papas words, “enough knowledge of human psychology” to be sure of this, but I wrote about it at length in my last post, so please give it a look and check my work.
2 – Papa refers here to 183 Hart Street, where my grandmother’s family lived for many years until they graduated to fancier digs. Papa sent this letter to my grandmother’s work address (the law office of Louis Richman, where she worked as a legal secretary) because he was in a desperate way and wanted her to receive them quickly. (The mail came twice a day back then and she would have only seen his letters in the evening if he sent them to her home.)
3 – My grandmother had undeniable nasty streak and appears to have displayed it in full during the episode described here. First, she accused Papa of not seriously wanting to marry her; when he told her he had, in fact, put aside $500 for a ring (a hefty tab for a factory worker, equivalent to $6000 in today’s dollars) she told him it wasn’t good enough. I suppose, since her family had encouraged her to dismiss Papa and had even plotted with her to keep him at bay (as I’ve mentioned before, they used to dress her in glasses and ugly wigs when he’d visit so she’d look less attractive) she felt her nastiness was well-supported and sanctioned, but it’s still pretty shitty behavior.
Which leads us to point out, once again…
4 – …that Papa could not have tolerated and persevered through so much rejection if he did not, in some way, want or need to see himself as someone who could remain generous, faithful and tolerant in the face of it. I think he truly loved my grandmother and saw her clearly, but because self-sacrifice was so important to him, he also found some abstract satisfaction in his ability to love her despite the costs to his pride and comfort.
5 – Papa may have been a romantic, but he wasn’t impractical. Even as he pens a letter full of impassioned rhetoric and describes his heady dreams of a retail empire, he lays out the baby steps necessary to get there and knows he’d have to work nights and keep his day job to make it happen. He doesn’t promise anything, he just promises to try, keeping in mind how important it will be not to risk what he’s already achieved.
I also think he’s trying to convince my grandmother, who came from a wealthy family and had wealthy suitors, that he’s not without financial ambition. Interestingly, though, his plan to build a business includes my grandmother as an active partner; having her in his life was, I think, are more important dream to him than making money.
6 – He didn’t learn English until he was eighteen, but Papa filled his diary and letters with impressive and occasionally beautiful English prose. I suppose his talent for writing must have been genuine if it was strong enough to be visible through such a language barrier, but as far as I know he didn’t get to “take advantage of every moment the muse” was with him as much as he would have wanted. It wouldn’t have been like him to wish he had more time, but I like to think that, with this project, I’ve given him some.
7 – This passage is not an example of Papa’s best writing, though the strange phrasing and misused words show how distressed he is to discuss his fear of losing my grandmother, how held back he’s felt by “disappointments” and “setbacks,” and how desperately he wants to move on with his life. His battle with emotional stasis, his inability to let himself build a full life in America was, as I’ve discussed on this site (and, again, most recently in my last post) the central struggle of his young adulthood.
It’s clearly evident in his 1924 diary and had developed long before he met my grandmother, but he felt his passionate commitment to her would cure his inertia. She only had to marry him. As we know, and as the last five years of Papa’s letters show, it didn’t work out that way. It was unusual for Papa to blame someone else for his troubles, but in this case I can see why his “diagnosis” of his situation includes, among other things, my grandmother’s ongoing indifference. He saw her as his ticket out of limbo and couldn’t understand why she didn’t want to be.
8 – I realize I’ve convinced myself that Papa’s 1924 diary was the last he wrote, perhaps because he seemed so weary by the end of it, perhaps because I can’t read more of what he wrote. Still, if he really discontinued his diaries two years prior to this 1929 letter, it would mean he kept them through 1927.
I’m not sure why he brought up his diaries here or why he thought the memories they contained would “torture” him. Perhaps he filled them with pages of agonized speculation about my grandmother’s behavior, detailed in them the romantic opportunities he turned down with her in mind. Perhaps, as he wrote this letter, he pictured himself spending the rest of his days poring over his diaries and reliving his failed relationship with my grandmother, wondering what little moments he might have changed or words he might have said or gestures he might have made to change the story’s ending.
But, as we know, Papa, this is you:
