Showing posts with label Bonn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bonn. Show all posts

07 June 2022

Travel Journal: Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union, 1965 – Part 6

 

[Part 6 of “Travel Journal: Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union, 1965” is the last installment of my account of the high school journey I took to the Soviet Union.  I pick up the chronicle with the entry for 21 April 1965 and follow my steps through the final ramifications of my visa SNAFU with Hungary and my ultimate departure from the U.S.S.R.

[Because the journal actually ends with my arrival in Vienna, Austria, I’ve added a coda that takes me from Vienna  to Bonn, Germany, and on to Geneva. Switzerland, in order to finish out the whole voyage east. 

[As always, I recommend that readers who are just encountering this chronicle go back to 23 May and start with the first installment and then pick up Parts 2 through 5, posted on 26 and 29 May and 1 and 4 June, before continuing with this final section.  You’ll find many identifications and explanations that will pertain to this installment but which I haven’t repeated.]. 

Wednesday, 21 April – 2:50 p.m. – Kiev/Vienna, Austria

I thought everything was settled, but when I arrived at the [Kiev] airport [probably Boryspil, but I’m not sure], and tried to change my rubles, I then realized that I had no [currency-exchange] declaration slip or money slip.  In other words, I was stuck with ₽16 [officially $17.60] that I could not take out of the country.  I had the choice of spending it [in the airport] or leaving it and being able to retrieve it in three years—when I returned.  I ended up buying two bottles of vodka and one of [Russian] champagne.

[As I reported earlier concerning Polish zloty (see Part 1, entry for 12 April 1965), exchanging Western currency outside government-run exchange offices was illegal in communist Eastern Europe.  Holding rubles without receipts for their official exchange invited confiscation and more.] 

In addition to having no declaration slip, I was not allowed to have dollars, but [the customs officials] waived that and did not confiscate my money.

I had tried to sell my rubles to some people traveling to Moscow, but then they would have my problem as well—a lack of dollars with no declaration of change.

Then, of course, they went through all my bags, and almost took my [phonograph] records.  I was almost screaming! 

VIENNA, REPUBLIC OF AUSTRIA

The plane trip was awful.  The landing was so rough, I thought I was going to be sick!  [I don’t get motion sickness as a rule.]

Finally we landed—and was I glad.  I can’t express how happy I am to be out of that place.  I’m almost glad to miss two more days behind the [Iron] Curtain.

Then, here, I began to worry about a room and money.  But that was little trouble.  It’s only costing me 80 schillings [about $3 in 1965, about $27.53 today], which I have, to stay a day here [Hotel Schƶnbrunn, named for the main summer residence of the Habsburg monarchs; the name means ‘beautiful spring’)].  I will eat my dinner out.

I noticed a strange thing, not very important, but funny in the light of everything that’s happened.  The [hotel] porter put me in the wrong room, and no one noticed until I told the receptionist.  They changed me.

I sent a telegram to Mr. Brunst, the Hungarian travel agent.  I hope he gets it.  I also hope it’s not expensive, though he may pay for it.

I reconfirmed my ticket for Bonn, so at least that’s settled.

I keep feeling that I’m not going to have enough money.  I hope I make it, or it may prove troublesome.  I must find out when I have to vacate the room in order not to pay another day.  I must also buy breakfast and lunch tomorrow, but I can do without much.  This is really growing out of proportion.

Since it’s stopped raining, I will go out and find a Stube to eat in; it’s probably less expensive out than in the hotel.  [A Stube in this context is similar to a pub or saloon, a small restaurant that principally serves beer (Bierstube) or wine (Weinstube) and plain, simple food.]

*  *  *  *

[That’s where my journal of my 1965 trip to Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union ended.  In Part 5 of “Going to a Swiss International School,” I recounted the final leg of the journey, from Vienna to Bonn, Germany, for the last days of the spring vacation, and back to Geneva to finish the second semester of my senior year in high school.

[In order to wrap up the entire voyage, I’ve decided to append the last paragraphs of the 11 May 2021 post to the transcription of the journal.  I’ve edited them lightly.]

RETURN: VIENNA – BONN – GENEVA

I had reservations on a direct flight to Vienna at noon on 21 April.  At the Kiev airport, I went through the check-in procedure without a hitch—after all, I had my very own Intourist minder with me!  Then I asked about exchanging the 16 rubles I had left for Austrian schillings (about 440) or dollars ($17.60 – worth about $157.27 today).  

My minder advised me that I’d have to spend them in the airport or surrender them at customs.  The Kiev airport in 1965, however, didn’t have a shopping concourse or anything like a duty-free area—it would be bourgeois and capitalistic—so I was relegated to cruising the snack bars and souvenir stands.  I was on my way to my parents’ new home in Bonn, so I ended up buying a bottle of Russian champagne (shampanskoye), two bottles of vodka, and a couple of jars of caviar (ikra). 

When I got to customs, after the Intourist minder had left me, the environment changed.  The agents went through everything.  I suspect they saw my official passport and decided to be hyper-diligent.  They made me open every bag, including my camera bag.  I smoked a pipe in those days, and they not only opened my tin of tobacco, but actually rooted around in the tobacco itself.  (Maybe I had diamonds or microfilm in there!)

In Leningrad, readers will recall, I had bought “lots of” propaganda posters as souvenirs (see Part 4, entry for 17 April 1965) and they were rolled up and wrapped in brown paper by the store clerk.  The customs agents made me open the roll and unravel every one of the posters. 

They had words over them, as if they had to decide if I should be allowed to take the posters out of the country with me.  As if the store hadn’t sold them to me openly and legally!  What?  I was smuggling anti-capitalist, anti-religion, anti-Nazi propaganda into the West?

The customs guys examined the classical records I had bought for my father as well.  I guess they suspected I might be secreting coded messages in the music or something.  The camera bag got the same level of scrutiny; thank goodness they didn’t expose all the film I had—just out of orneriness.

Well, I made it out of the Soviet Union, which I was never sure I would.  I had visions, not so much of being stuck in the airport in some kind of limbo (like Tom Hanks in 2004’s The Terminal), but of being hauled off to a jail in Kiev or some place and forgotten forever.    

(I had read George Orwell’s 1984 and about two years before this trip, I’d participated in a high school production of Darkness at Noon, adapted from Arthur Koestler’s 1940 novel by Sidney Kingsley in 1951.)

The group’s visit to the Hungarian capital was overnight, so I arrived in Vienna before them and was on my own for several hours.  I arrived about 1 p.m. on the afternoon of the 21st and went to the Hotel Schƶnbrunn where the Ecolint group was supposed to meet me on the evening of the 22nd.

I was relieved to get to Vienna—Austria was a relatively free country and, as I’ve said, I spoke German by then, so I could get around and talk to people.  I still had almost no cash, however, until the group arrived in town some hours after I did.  So I walked around Vienna this time and sang “Hard Day’s Night” some more!  To this day, I can’t hear that song—which I still love like most Beatles tunes—without flashing back to that spring trip to Warsaw, Moscow, Leningrad, Kiev, and Vienna . . . but not Budapest; I never got there.

The Ecolint group arrived at about 7 in the evening and joined me at the hotel.  The trip ended as planned and we all went our separate ways to finish up the spring vacation.  The group took the train back to Geneva by way of Zürich on the evening of Friday, the 23rd; I flew home to Germany to spend the rest of the break with my folks.

I flew into Cologne Bonn Airport on the 23rd where my parents met me.  As readers know, I’d arranged before we left Geneva to fly home from Vienna instead of going back to Geneva with the group.  We drove to Bad Godesberg, the district of the West German capital of Bonn where many foreign embassies, including the Embassy of the United States, were located, and our new residence.

This home wasn’t the house in Koblenz where we’d been living since my father started this assignment in Germany in 1962.  (Looking back, I was a little like the kid who comes home from summer camp and finds that his parents had moved.  Except, of course, that I knew this was going to happen.) 

In late March 1965, Dad had been transferred from the Amerika Haus in Koblenz to the U.S. embassy in Bad Godesberg.  From Information Center Director, Dad was now Cultural Affairs Officer, informally, the Cultural AttachĆ©. 

Our new home was a three-bedroom apartment in the garden-apartment complex in Plittersdorf, a section of Bad Godesberg that was the site of the U.S. embassy residence compound.  When we arrived at the apartment, my parents had to attend a function and they left me to unpack and rest until they returned in the early evening. 

The apartment was festooned with hand-made banners and other decorations to welcome me home.  I put the champagne and caviar in the fridge and put the vodka in the freezer (Russians drink vodka literally ice cold from a little glass called a ryumka, a bit larger than a shot glass), and waited for my folks to get back.  

When they got home, we had a little celebration en famille and I told them about the trip east.  I had called them from Vienna, so they already knew about the adventure in Kiev; of course, they’d also known about the visa problem when it surfaced while I was still in Geneva.

There wasn’t much left of the vacation, so I was soon on my way back to Geneva by air on Monday, 26 April, for the remainder of the spring term—the end of my last semester in high school.  With my dad’s new job, he also shifted from the Consular Corps to the Diplomatic Corps (we all got those black-covered Diplomatic Passports—mine came in July).  

After graduation in Geneva on 6 June, my parents, my brother, my maternal grandmother, and I took a trip through the Loire Valley, ending up in Paris.  Then, in August, Dad took home leave and my family and I sailed on the SS Independence out of Cannes, France, for New York City so my brother could start his junior year at his prep school and my folks could deliver me to start my freshman year as a college student.  

That was the first time I used my new dip card.  In September 1965, I would start commuting between Bonn and Virginia for college breaks on a fairly regular basis.  I now had diplomatic immunity—not that I ever invoked it, but it was neat to know I had it.

[Transcribing these old journals has been a peculiar experience for me.  (I’m including the two previous transcriptions: “Travel Journal: Israel & Egypt, 1982,” 11-23 July 2021 and 2-20 August 2021; “Travel Journal: People’s Republic of China, 1980,” 24 December 2021-5 January 2022.) 

[That’s been especially true of the Russia journal, which was an exceptionally memorable experience.  This was both because of the Hungarian visa matter and because I was so young.  This was only my second experience visiting a land that was entirely alien to my experience; the first was my arrival in Europe the first time at Christmastime 1962.

[(Before that visit to Germany and Paris—see “An American Teen in Germany”—my only experience with foreign travel was a skiing trip my family took to Sainte-Agathe, Quebec, when I was probably 8-10 years old.  Otherwise, I’d never been off the East Coast of the U.S.)

[The trip to the Soviet Union also reaches way back into my past (almost 60 years as opposed to 40+ for the subjects of the two newer journals) and it was a world that’s completely disappeared.  It felt very strange, revisiting all that.  I’d be very curious to hear what anyone else felt about this account.]


18 June 2015

Home Alone 3


[This is the final section of the series of letters my dad wrote home to Mom before she came to Germany to share their new life there with him.  Dad makes some observations about the Germans that might seem harsh, but I’m here to tell you, they aren’t inaccurate.  Things may have changed in the 50 years since, but the truth hasn’t.]

Wednesday, Oct. 10, 1962
My darling,

No letter from you today, so I don’t have to concern myself with getting the answers to a lot of questions; this at least is somewhat of a compensation.  I can spend my conversation with rambling on about experiences and observations.

The German uses his fork as a shovel, his knife as a broom, his mouth as a vacuum cleaner and his stomach (I am sure) as a sewer.  He approaches food with complete and dead earnestness, and his only real concern about a menu selection is how he wants his potatoes.  Generally he likes them cooked, but I suspect he will eat them raw if necessary.  He consumes them in great quantities [and this was a good 15 years before Dan Aykroyd and Jane Curtin did “The Coneheads” on SNL!], and a meal is often meat and potatoes without any vegetable or other attendant food.  He carries the continental habit of eating with both knife and fork at the same time to ridiculous extremes.  I have seen them use the knife to put food in their mouth, and of course to help pile ridiculous mounds on the fork for inhalation.  He cuts his food only into pieces small enough to be manageable.  This means that tremendous chunks of stuff are taken at one gulp.  Large pieces also provide excellent platforms on which to place potatoes and any other items which are imbibed at the same time.  My momentary observation is that Douglas at his worst looks positively regal at the table compared to many Germans.

The German is fond of animals.  They have many dogs for pets, and never bother to take them to the curb when walking them.  This makes walking something of a challenge.  You find yourself constantly sidestepping the evidence of their presence.  [And my dad was a dog-lover.  My mother, not so much, but Dad loved dogs and we’d had several before we left the States.]

All German waiters and waitresses carry a money purse just slightly smaller than an attache case.  All checks are paid directly to the waiter who makes change immediately, and then presumably settles with the restaurant later.  For this reason he carries with him enough money to make change, and during the day this purse keeps getting fatter and fatter.  [This was, of course, in the days before credit cards were common, especially in Europe.]

I failed to mention to you in earlier letters that I have seen the signs with THAT WORD.  At several places around town a local jeweler has placed clocks which read simply his name Martin, Uhr (clocks) and Schmuck (you know).  [Okay, everyone probably gets what Dad found amusing here.  Schmuck is German for ‘jewelry’ or ‘ornament.’  It has a different meaning in Yiddish, which has bled over into English slang.]

I suppose you read of the passage by Congress of the postal and pay raise bills.  This means that we get about a 10% pay raise as soon as JFK signs it.  It goes into effect the first pay period following signing, and then an automatic additional raise in January 1964.

I must tell you of an absolutely shattering experience I had yesterday morning.  I was scheduled to pay my respects to the head of the local DGB (the association of labor unions, similar to our AFL-CIO [Deutscher Gewerkschaftsbund, or the Confederation of German Trade Unions]).  When I arrived he ushered me into the conference room where he had assembled the heads of seven unions and proceeded to introduce me to each of them and then go into a formal speech of welcome and good wishes.  This was fine, albeit slightly unexpected, and I replied as best I could.  Then came the bottle of cognac and toasts had to be drunk all around.  This at about 11 in the morning.  Believe me love, when I left that place I was not even touching the ground with my feet.  It was as bad if not worse than the Army Navy Club episode.  [I don’t know what this episode was, but I can guess.  So can you, I imagine.  The Army and Navy Club is a social organization in Washington of which my father was a member.  (They called him “Capt. K*****” there, which always amused me!)]  I was shattered for the rest of the day—absolutely no good.  It was a good thing that I had answered your letter earlier; I never would have made any sense after that.  [It was conventional wisdom that alcoholism was the occupational disease of the diplomatic service.]

I wonder of you would try and bring something with you of my clothing.  Only if you have room and need not crowd or go over weight—I can use a sport jacket and a pair of slacks for week ends, and for working around the house, some sneakers and blue jeans.  Everything I have with me is somewhat on the dressy and formal side.

                                                                                    G
*  *  *  *
 [Thursday,] Oct. 11, 1962
My dearest,

No mail today—these must be the weekend days, and you are in Princeton so I won’t hear from you until tomorrow at the earliest and possibly Saturday.

Today there will be a slight break in the routine of calls and administrative duties here in the office.  I had a call yesterday afternoon from Frankfurt which gives me the opportunity of going there today.  Some budgetary matter[s] for the forthcoming year are to be discussed, so I shall make the trip.  In all probability I shall return this evening.

I dropped a note to Rick this morning—he told me about his unfortunate test results.  [I don’t remember what these “unfortunate test results” were—obviously a low grade; in my case, it probably was a C, I imagine.  It happened.]  I hope he isn’t having too good a time this year.  Maybe this is done purposely to bring the boys up short and get them to settle down to serious business.  [I doubt this.  I probably just didn’t study or something.]

I haven’t heard from Doug since last week; I can’t tell you how I envy you your trip this weekend to Pottstown [the Pennsylvania town in which my brother’s school was located].  Relate every moment and incident when you write me about it.  I must know everything.

There isn’t any more news or information to dispense at the moment.  If I got started about missing you I might go on indefinitely and first thing you know I’d start feeling sorry for myself.  Just take it for granted that I do.

                                                                        Lovingly,
                                                                                    G
*  *  *  *
Friday, Oct. 12, 1962
My dearest darling,

May I first wish you the happiest of Columbus Days.

Yesterday, as I wrote you, I had to go to Frankfurt for the afternoon.  How happy I am that I did.  There waiting for me were three letters from you, one from Auntie Mac in Israel, and the envelope from Monroe Karasik.  [“Auntie Mac” is my father’s baby sister, Marion, who lived near Boston; she must have been visiting Israel, although I don’t remember that.  I’m not sure who Monroe Karasik was, but there was a lawyer and lobbyist in Washington, a fellow Chevy Chase resident, by that name.  What he might have sent Dad is a mystery to me.]  I know that you write regularly, and I am aware that the delay and bunching up of mail is all due to the pick up and delivery systems [of that APO mail system I noted in part 2].  The proof is in the receipt of three letters at one time.  This morning I got the package of bills and other items which you sent me.  This got sent to another Amerika Haus by mistake and had to be forwarded to me here.  [The German mail system is so precise and accurate that Germans know exactly when a scheduled piece of mail is supposed to arrive and if it doesn’t get to them on the day expected, they call the post office and complain immediately!]

I’m sorry about the cards.  I did have business cards printed here (sample attached) but before I left D.C. they told me I would not have to have formal engraved cards since I was not at an embassy or consular post.  When I arrived I was told to make a formal call as soon as possible after arrival; cards for both of us will be required.  I figured you must have a plate which can be used rather than have a new one made.

About the clothing: you can leave in storage the cotton poplin suits (tan and blue), the seersucker striped suits, the linen suits and a checked light weight wool and dacron suit.  Send along the gabardines (tan, brown, and blue), dark gray stripe, and two pebble weave cotton and dacron from Brooks Bros. (one gray and one brown).  You may leave all the gay cotton and flannel slacks for summer and all the shorts (take maybe one or two pair of shorts, in case).  Also leave all the very light colored summer jackets.  Also leave the white loafers, hiking shoes, riding boots, a pair of light weight wing tip leather shoes in black and dark brown.

The weekend is coming up and that is the loneliest of times.  No office activity to make the time move along.  No car to go off touring, and no social contacts yet to spend time with.  I have had no dinner or evening invitations as yet—with the exception of tonight.  An English judge who stays at the “Club” while the international tribunal is in session, is having a small party tonight for his daughter who is arriving.  He invited me to take part and I must say I am looking forward to it. 

[The “Club,” of course, is the French Club, where Dad was still living.  The “tribunal” he mentions was an international court of reparations, known as the Arbitral Tribunal, that sat in Koblenz.  It heard suits over property seized by the Nazis during the Third Reich and I believe it had five judges, each from a different country which changed periodically on a rotating basis.  Dad eventually got friendly with the Italian judge.]

Now a few more items about the house furnishings etc.  The living room is light gray, has 2 green sofas, 5 upholstered chairs, 1 coffee table, 1 round end table.  It has a large dark wood breakfront with open shelves and small cabinet sections about as follows: [A pencil outline of the breakfront follows showing details, with dimensions and the notation: “shaded area is open.”]

The dining room is blue.  There are two side boards which line up end to end along one wall (I guess), a long oblong table (it should have leaves to insert, but I haven’t seen them), 8 side chairs and host and hostess chairs all of dark wood with blue plastic backs and bottoms, a china closet about as follows: [Another diagram is included.]

This is about 5 feet in height and approximately 4′ long.

There is also a long chest with two pair of cabinet doors.  One side of one cabinet contains six drawers (for silver and other items, I guess) about like this: [Yet another sketch.]

There was also on the dining room a low table on wheels with a glass top (tea cart) and a square table with drop leaves also on wheels.  The latter has a shallow drawer and cabinet which opens at opposite ends, front to back.  In other words both the back and front have a drawer and a cabinet which opens.

There is a large breakfront standing in the bar alcove which is like this: [A fourth drawing.]

In addition I found 8 straight and two wooden arm chairs similar to the dining room chairs only with rust brown plastic backs and seats.  There appear additional ones like this around the house for odd chairs (bedroom, etc.).  Also a brown upholstered small easy chair.

The den is light tan.  It has a blue high back sofa, leather topped desk, small coffee table, pair of end tables (small cabinet type) and two nesting tables.  Also a blue upholstered easy chair and an odd upholstered chair with wooden arms.

The breakfast room is peach and has only an open shelf cabinet.

The kitchen is light green, has an old wooden table, two above the counter double door cabinets, 3 double door below the counter cabinets and one single door.  I broom cabinet, 1 full length storage cabinet with shelves (canned goods, etc.), 5 shallow under the counter drawers and one bread drawer.

In each of the two small bedrooms on the third floor there is a single bed, a closet cabinet, a night table and a chair.

Maybe this inventory combined with the second floor information that I sent to you the other day will help decide what to take.  All in all the furniture is pretty worn and shabby.  It may be possible to request replacement or at least recovering.  I understand the thing to do is go up to Bonn and fight with the procurement man to give you some of the newer things he may have on hand in exchange for the shabbier things you may have.  In view of all the downstairs cabinets maybe you had better reconsider my suggestion about our breakfront.  At any rate, even if we do go over our allowance, I would rather pay some money to get some of our more desirable things here for the next few years.  It is always a fair gamble that we will stay longer than three years.

Does any of this make any sense to you other than I love you and I miss you terribly.

                                                                                    G
*  *  *  *
Monday, Oct. 15, 1962
My darling,

How was the weekend?  Did you manage to have both Doug and Rick together or didn’t it work out?  [I don’t recall a weekend with my mother and my brother.  (Columbus Day was on Friday, the 12th, in 1962, and that was before the holidays were all moved to Mondays, so no three-day weekends.)  Our schools weren’t that close to one another; it was a 75-mile one-way trip, a 1½-hour drive.]  I just got a delightful note from Doug this morning.  The best and most amusing part of it was the receipt of the clippings which I also sent to him.  He says “I got your letter with the pictures and I hung them on the wall behind my bed but no one can read them.”  [Doug’s talking about the German newspaper articles about Dad’s arrival in Koblenz.]  I found this terribly amusing.

He says he is doing very well and is terribly busy.  The grade average which he wrote me certainly indicates better than even very well.  It sounds like he is doing stupendously.

Now, don’t get yourself all excited about a maid.  I didn’t say I had one, I only indicated I was on the trail of one.  It may not work out since she lives out of town and has a family.  This involves commuting which may not be either possible or satisfactory.  The embassy finally gave me the go ahead on the floors and general cleaning in the house.  And I hope to get started on that this week.  If they can finish it up within the next ten days, I will move in and start getting things ready for your arrival (I personally, am quite ready).  You might jot down some food items that you think I can stock up on.  I will be in Bonn the 18th and 19th and I can use the commissary.  [Commissaries are military grocery stores, operated by the army’s Quartermaster Corps, the supply branch.  (PX’s are like department stores and are run by a Department of the Army civil service agency, in Europe called the European Exchange System, or EES.)  The embassy compound in Bad Godesberg had a small commissary.  In Koblenz, where we had no access to a PX or commissary, my family lived “on the economy,” doing our shopping just like the Koblenzers.]  I thought I would get some American canned goods (fruit juices, fruits, etc., and some cereals).  These things are generally quite expensive on the German market but the fresh foods such as vegetables and meats, butter, bread and milk are just as good [as] and not any more expensive than [at] the commissary.  [That’s not entirely accurate: the milk in Germany then was pasteurized, but not homogenized.]  I’ll also bring in some cleaning soaps and powders.  If I get the place in order and the maid is available I shall hire her and put her right to work getting things set up.

I had a rather pleasant weekend.  I mentioned in my last letter that I had been invited to a small party on Friday night by the English judge stationed here.  He had his daughter come to town to help him move his household from Berlin, where he sits on another court, and from which he has resigned, to Koblenz.  She is a very nice newly married young lady who is living in Bucharest with her husband (an Englishman) supervising some British operations in Roumania.  As a result of the little supper on Friday there was another invitation for Saturday night dinner, which helped make the weekend more pleasant and not so lonely.

This morning I called on the leader of the local SPD (one of the two major political parties in Germany [Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands, or the Social Democratic Party of Germany]) and again the cognac routine.  This time coffee came with it, so it didn’t hit me quite so hard.  I know what they mean when they talk of alcoholism being an occupational disease.  [See?  I told ya.]  I regret that I have only one liver to give for my country.  [Do you suppose Dad made that up himself?]

Tonight we are sponsoring a chamber music concert.  [This was probably a group of American musicians, either ones working locally or on tour for USIA.]  Since this requires more space than is available in our own auditorium, we use one of the local schools.  I don’t have to do anything except be there and act as host—matter of fact I am looking forward to the concert.  The quartet has an excellent reputation and it should be my dish of tea.  [Actually, they serve tea in glasses in Germany.]

I love you, I miss you, I wish the 27th were already here.

                                                                        Adoringly,
                                                                                    G
*  *  *  *
[Tuesday,] Oct. 16, 1962
Darling,

No appointments today, so I have remained relatively sober.  Today another jackpot.  A lovely letter from Doug, one from Mort (your substitute husband?) and two and a half from you.  The half being the little note with the cartoon addressed directly here.  It was postmarked Oct. 13, so it only took three days; its mate has not yet arrived.  [“Mort” would be Morton Rabineau, husband of Vivian, and the other half of the couple who were my “second” parents; see letter of 8 October.  (Sidelight: “Uncle” Mort and my dad had the exact same birthday: day, month, and year; the two couples always celebrated together—except, of course, in the years my family was abroad.)  I don’t know what the cartoon was.]

I’m inclined to agree with you about Nichols [despite the variant spelling, this is certainly the real estate agent Dad wrote about earlier].  I think he is hungry enough to possibly [be] doing a better job for us than anyone else.

I think your thoughts on bringing more of the smaller pieces over is good.  After talking to a few “veterans” I find that you fight with the procurement officer on a fairly constant basis (keep after him, that is) and you manage to get furniture replaced, recovered and repaired so that eventually you get things looking pretty decent.  It’s the small little touches that make the difference.

The next few days will be busy ones for me, and you may find mail slacks off a bit.  I go to Bonn for two days of conferences (all A.H. directors in Germany).  I get back on Saturday and on Monday I go to a small town in the area named Zeltingen where we are sponsoring a three day seminar of teaching students from the two normal schools [teachers’ colleges] in this area (Rheinland-Pfalz).  [Zeltingen, a town of about 2,000 inhabitants, is on the Mosel River about 60 miles southwest of Koblenz.]  We have supplied the lecturers and subjects for these conferences and I must appear and make a welcoming speech.  Back to Koblenz on Tuesday in time for a lecture at our A.H. auditorium that night, and again the introductory remarks from me.  After that I relax and wait for you——.

                                                                        Lovingly,
                                                                                    G

P.S.  An enclosure with self-explanatory notes.  [The enclosure was a letter from Beatrice Perry, who I had guessed was the person to whom Dad referred the “English lady” who was an amateur painter; see the letter dated 5 October.  (Dad added a few wry remarks to Beati’s letter, but I won’t detail them.)  I was correct, and the British couple’s name was Melville.  Beati opened her note to Dad with: “It was wonderful . . . to know that you are really there bringing our culture to those hopeless natives (or vice versa).”  I hope she was joking!  (Whatever else people can say about Germans and their culture, it is the land that gave us Goethe, Schiller, Mann, Klee, Ernst, Beethoven, and the Bauhaus—not to mention Mercedes-Benz, Porsche, and the VW.)  Beati also mentioned Stuart Davidson, another of the partners in Gres Gallery.  He went on to start Clyde’s eateries in Washington—though he sold the company many years ago now.]

[Wednesday,] Oct. 17, 1962
Dearest,

The enclosed form and accompanying letter arrived from school this morning.  Since you visited Doug over the weekend I’m sure you know the whole story about his exhaustion.  That kid will play his heart out for something.  I have filled out the form except for checking the diseases on the front and his immunization dates on the back.  The latter you should take from the immunization record with his passport.  The part to be filled in by a physician does not have to be done.  Please mail it on to school. 

[Enclosed with Dad’s letter was one from my brother’s school doctor dated 13 October 1962.  The day before, Doug “played soccer until he became exhausted” and was admitted to the school infirmary.  I don’t remember this incident at all; it’s possible that I never knew about it—my folks may just not have told me Doug was sick.  (The form Dad mentions was a “preentrance [sic] health report form” that either hadn’t been filed or went missing.  Doug was scheduled for a physical at school soon, which is why my parents didn’t have to complete part of the form.)  In any case, he recovered the next morning and the doctor “dismissed him to school.”]

Since I received three (really two and a half) letters yesterday I am not surprised that there are none today.  My only complaint is that I will go off to Bonn this afternoon and not have any mail until I return on Friday night or Saturday morning.

By now the packers should be at the house completing the packing and shipping job, unless the original schedule you gave me has been changed.  This means that the decisions have been made and we no longer have to worry about them.  I’m sorry about my clothes.  I know there are a lot of them, and I’m sorry that they are my weakness.  [Dad was a clothes horse, his own kind of fashion plate!]  I apologize but there isn’t much else I can do except assure you that for the next three years my purchases will be at a minimum.  My big trouble is that I never get rid of anything—just add.  [That was true.  It helped that Dad’s style never really went out of fashion, so he could keep wearing whatever he owned until it wore out.  And he did!]  You’ll have to accept me with my shortcoming and problems.  [Too late!  They’d been married for almost 17 years by this time.]  I’m sure there must be some Freudian explanation to my clothes mania.

All my love for you is contained in each suit and pair of shoes.  Will that indicate some measure of its extent?

                                                                                    G
*  *  *  *
[This is the last letter that I have; as he wrote, on 18 and 19 October, Dad was at a conference of Amerika Haus directors at the embassy.  I don’t know if Dad didn’t write any more after that (that doesn’t seem likely) or if Mom didn’t keep the letters or if they just got lost.  Mom was due to arrive in Germany on the 26th or 27th (Dad made two different references to her arrival date), six or seven days after Dad got back to Koblenz.  In any case, this was the prelude to a wonderful family adventure and the next stage began when Mom joined Dad and continued when my brother and I came over some months later.

[A sidebar to all the preparations for shipping my folks’ personal belongings.  Sometime between the packing and the shipping, a dockworkers’ strike shut down all the Atlantic ports in the U.S. and nothing sailed.  When my brother and I arrived for our first visit, over Christmas 1962, Dad’s clothes hadn’t arrived and all he had was a trench coat for warmth.  We traveled to Paris in an unprecedented cold snap with Dad shivering and shaking all the way.  We were also forced to drive a rented Peugeot—Avis and Hertz hadn’t reached Europe yet—which was a wreck with windows that wouldn’t roll up and a heater that didn’t work—because the American car my parents had bought (an American Motors Ambassador: raise your hand if you remember American Motors!) was also sitting on a pier somewhere stateside.  Eventually the household goods and clothes arrived and everything settled down to a kind of normal.]

*  *  *  *
[The period from September to October 1962 when Dad was in Koblenz alone and Mom was in D.C. was the only extended time my parents were separated after their marriage.  (My mom and dad met on New Year’s Day 1945, soon after which my dad, who was already in the army, was shipped to Europe.  The couple corresponded regularly for the next year—they married in January 1946—and Dad later collected their letters and bound them.  I hope one day soon to write a post based on selections from that correspondence.)

[My brother and I made our first trip to Europe, as I’ve said, during Christmas vacation in December 1962.  We were surprised with a trip to Paris for the holiday—my 16th birthday, as it happens—which was an adventure of its own.  (I recount some of that trip in “An American Teen.”)  After returning to the States for the rest of the school year, my brother and I joined my folks in Koblenz in the summer of 1963 to live, going to an international school in Switzerland when the academic year started in the fall.  My parents remained in Koblenz until the spring of 1965 when Dad was transferred to the U.S. Embassy in Bonn as the Cultural Affairs Officer; he was at the embassy until 1967, when he returned to Washington and resigned from USIA.]


15 June 2015

Home Alone 2


[This is the second installment of three in the collection of correspondence from my father to my mother in the month he was alone in Germany while waiting for my mom to join him.  You’ll read about the swirl of activity, the preparation for the change in my family’s lifestyle plus the introduction of Dad’s new responsibilities and obligations. This section of the three-part series covers the second week of Dad’s new adventure.  (I’ve also included here the translations of the two local newspaper articles that introduced my father to the citizens of Koblenz and the Rhineland-Palatinate.).]

Wednesday, Oct. 3, 1962
My darling,

No letter from you this morning so I am a little disgruntled.  You spoiled me the last few days by providing one each day.  There was one from Doug (a carbon) which had all the warmth and charm of his personality.  I could just picture him as he was writing it.  I am sure that he is devouring his school experience at his point.

I had my first official meeting with the Oberbuergermeister this morning and of course it was very formal, proper and each of us said the required things.  He is fairly new at the job and appears to be well thought of in the city.  I am sure we will both see more of him during the next three years.

It occurs to me that this being the beginning of the month, there will be bills arriving at home.  I don’t intend that these should be paid by you out of the funds left for you.  Forward them on to me and I will pay them all.

I have taken some pictures of the house, but I’m not sure they will be very satisfactory.  There are a couple of trees in the front that tend to block the view, and in the back, the yard is so small that I couldn’t get far enough back to get a shot.  There are fences separating us from the adjoining houses, and it would have meant climbing a fence and getting into a neighbor’s flower bed—not [a] very good way of meeting them.  I still have about seven or eight exposures on the roll, and as soon as I can use these up I will have it developed and send you the pictures.

Still no word from Rick—I envy you your visit to him this coming weekend

                                                                                    G
*  *  *  *
Thursday, Oct. 4, 1962
My dearest,

Again no letter from you this morning.  My day doesn’t start out very well if I have no mail from home, especially from you.  I suppose you must be up to your ears in all sorts of transactions and details.  By the way I am somewhat amused by the sudden interest of B. Nicholls.  You know, I listed the house with him way back last summer when we first decided to list it with other than Sophia.  He was actually the first outside agent to have it.

A few things of interest . . . . the shoes worn by German men have points as narrow as those worn by Italian women.  They even go in for highly styled colors such as beige, gray, green, etc.  [Q]uite unattractive.  On the whole I don’t think it can be said that the Germans have a great sense of chic or style in anything­—clothes, furniture or decorative arts.

In Koblenz there are bottlers for Pepsi Cola, Coca Cola, Canada Dry and a domestic bottler named Ass-Brunnen.  They put up a series of bottled beverages such as orange soda, and they are generally referred to as Ass.  So when you ask for a little Ass in Koblenz, you are apt to get a bottle of soda and a glass—not what you would normally expect in the States.  [Ass is the German for ‘ace’; Ass-Brunnen literally means “ace fountain.”  (This is like the French soft drink Pschitt: it’s named for the sound the bottle makes when it’s opened, but to English-speaking ears, it sounds an awful lot like ‘shit,’ to the amusement of Americans, Brits, and Aussies!)]

I neglected to bring with me the copy of the contract with Girard Trust Corn Exchange Bank of Philadelphia providing for the monthly payments of Doug’s tuition.  The first payment is due this month and since I am not sure of the correct amount I sent a check for what I recall the amount to be and asked that they notify me if it is wrong.  If you should see the envelope from this bank lying around conveniently, please forward it to me.

Speaking of banks, the deposit I made for you of $1,000. before I left was acknowledged to me here—I assume you credited it to your account.  I am sending you the deposit slip for your information.  [It was enclosed with the letter.  $1000 in 1962 would be worth about $8000 today.]

If my timing is correct, you should receive this letter right after you return from visiting Princeton for the weekend.  [I was in boarding school in Princeton, NJ.]  I hope everything is as well with Rick as it appeared to be when I left.  I still have had no letter from him.  Here are copies of the newspaper articles which appeared over the weekend concerning my arrival—how good is your Deutsch.  [The two clippings were enclosed with the letter: “Eugene K***** leitet AH Koblenz,” Rhein-Post (Koblenz) 29 Sept. 1962; “Amerika-Haus hat einen neuen Direktor,” Rhein-Zeitung (Koblenz) 29/30 Sept. 1962.]

By the way, as a result of this article I received a letter yesterday from a German who described an incident which took place a year and half ago in which he was involved in a fight with some American soldiers.  The soldiers were arrested, turned over to the M.P.’s and properly tried and punished.  He claims, however, that he suffered the loss of 400 marks ($100) in various unspecified damages.  He has tried unsuccessfully to get this money and he asks me to help him.  If I don’t help him he threatens to write to the newspapers in the Soviet Zone [i.e., East Germany] and tell them what liars we are in telling of the friendship of Germany and the U.S. and how the NATO agreement is a partnership etc.  At the very end he tells me to please contact his wife, since he is at present in jail for some totally different offense.

I miss you tremendously and I love you even more—

                                                                                    G

P.S. Congratulations on the Kreeger deal.  [I don’t know what this refers to.  My parents did know David Lloyd Kreeger, Washington philanthropist and art collector, but I don’t know into what “deal” they might have entered in 1962.]

*  *  *  *
[Below are translations of the two newspaper articles that covered my dad’s arrival in Koblenz.]

Rhein-Post [Koblenz] Saturday, 29 Sept. 1962: “The Koblenzer Page: Eugene K***** heads A[merika] H[aus] Koblenz: He was introduced yesterday — First post in the diplomatic service.”

koblenz – “I am pleased to be in Koblenz because I know that here the city and the people have a good relationship with the Amerika Haus,” explained Eugene K*****, who has just undertaken the leadership of the Amerika Haus Koblenz and the German-American Library in Trier.

In the next weeks, the new head will make himself familiar with the situation and improve his German language skills somewhat.  On the basis of his personal interests, he will expand the AH program without altering it in principle.  “It won’t be easy for me because my predecessor, Rosinus, did such a good job.” 

Eugene K***** was born in New York, [and] studied at Washington and Lee University in Lexington, Virginia, where he graduated with a Bachelor of Arts degree from the School of Journalism.  Afterwards he worked as a reporter for newspapers in New Jersey and Virginia.  During the war, he served in the American army and was assigned as a captain of artillery in Europe.  In the years from 1946 to 1962, Eugene K***** worked in the American film business in Washington, Baltimore, and Virginia.  At the same time, he operated a radio station in Little Rock, Arkansas, and ran the leading gallery for contemporary art in Washington.

The Amerika Haus in Koblenz—K***** called it “my new adventure”—is his first assignment in the diplomatic service.

Rhein-Zeitung [Koblenz] Saturday/Sunday, 29/30 Sept. 1962: “Amerika-Haus has a new Director: Until now, Mr. Eugene K***** was mainly active in journalism.”

“I hope to be able to continue the good relations that have been established between the people of Koblenz, the local authorities, and the Amerika Haus,” said Mr. Eugene K*****, the new Director of the Koblenz Amerika Haus as he presented himself yesterday to the public.

For the 43-year-old New Yorker who has been named as the successor to former Director Rosinus, who has been transferred to Bonn, the Koblenz position is his first in the diplomatic service of the US.  Mr. K***** was until now active in journalism in the United States.  After journalism studies at Washington and Lee University in Lexington (Virginia), from which he graduated with a Bachelor of Arts degree, he was a reporter for newspapers in New Jersey and Virginia.  During the last war, he served in the US Army and was for some time a captain stationed in Europe.  From 1946 to 1962 Mr. K***** was active in the American film business in Washington, Baltimore, and Virginia.  At the same time, he ran a radio station in Little Rock (Arkansas) and headed the leading gallery for contemporary art in Washington.

Next, the new Director of the Koblenz Amerika Haus awaits his family, with whom he will occupy the house on the Rheinanlagen.  Both his sons are still school-aged and they will attend a school in Germany.  Before he took up his Koblenz post, Mr. K***** took a German-language course for several weeks and hopes to perfect his German language skills here.  Since his interests lie mainly in the area of art, he is considering possibilities, within the framework of the Amerika Haus programs, perhaps to treat such topics.  In addition, the appointment of the new director means that the Amerika Haus will be continued in the same manner as it has up to now, for as you know in the spring a new form of organization was established involving the city, the Federal Government, and the central Rhine economy.  The numerous friends of this [Amerika] Haus will certainly welcome that.

*  *  *  *
[Friday,] Oct. 5, 1962
Sweetheart,

Have you finished your shots?  [We had to get passport immunizations before traveling overseas in those days.]  Please don’t let this go until the very last minute.  It occurred to me last night that I had better remind you about it.  Also, has Joe Mona [handyman and carpenter who worked for my dad’s former company, District Theatres Corp.] picked up my golf bag and refinished it for me.  If you haven’t heard, please call him and remind him about it,  I understand that there is a very lovely golf course at Bad Ems about 20 minutes from here, and I think we will want to take advantage of it.  [Bad Ems is a spa town across the Rhine from Koblenz.  Coincidentally, I went to a German army school there later when I was stationed in Berlin in 1972.]

This morning was really a dilly—not hard or confused, just busy.  I am getting into the schedule of official calls, and I had three of them to make by noon.  One to the head of the local Stadt (city) bank, who is our landlord [I presume Dad means the AH office is leased from the Stadtbank; I think the U.S. Government owned the house we lived in—but I’m not positive]; one to the Regierungspraesident (the head of the regional administration); and the third to the Commanding General of the Army in this area.  [That would be the German army, the Bundeswehr’s Third Corps, headquartered in Koblenz.]  You can imagine what procedures are involved in making an official call on a German lieutenant general at his headquarters—all the formalities and escorts and salutes, everything short of a twenty-one-gun salute and a fanfare of trumpets.  He was quite amiable, spoke good English, and appears very interested in the Amerika Haus and its work.

Yesterday afternoon I was invited for drinks (after work) by an English lady whose husband (also English) runs a rather important factory in this area.  She read in the newspaper of my interest in an art gallery [that would be Gres Gallery in Washington of which my parents were part owners in the late ’50s and early ’60s] and she is an amateur painter and is leaving next week for N.Y.  She asked if I could give her an introduction to any galleries to whom she could show some of her work—guess who I sent her to see.  [I have no idea who the British lady was, but I can only guess that the person Dad sent her to was Beatrice Perry (1921-2011; Mrs. Hart Perry [1918-91]), who’d been the managing partner of Gres and moved to New York City after the gallery dissolved.  (For confirmation of this guess, see Dad’s letter of 16 October.)] 

Over the weekend I shall be able to give the furniture in our house a closer inspection.  The painters have finished now, and we are awaiting the go-ahead from Bonn to have the floors refinished.  Mr. Rosinus called me yesterday from Bonn to say hello and wish me well.  [Gunther Rosinus, Dad’s predecessor in Koblenz, was Cultural Affairs Officer at the Bonn embassy in 1962, responsible for all Amerika Haus programs in Germany.  In 1965, Dad was promoted to that job himself.]  He and his family have just returned this week and are in process of getting settled.  They would like very much to see us both when you arrive here.

No mail from any one today.  Ah well, it’s tough when you’re gone and forgotten too. 

All my best love, all my strongest love, all my existing love,

                                                                                    G
*  *  *  *
[Monday,] Oct. 8, 1962
My dearest,

It’s Monday morning and I am waiting impatiently for the mail to be delivered so that I can absolutely devour the letter or letters that will be coming from you.  In the meantime I will give you some ideas about the  furnishings in the house.

First, as a general statement the furniture is not very attractive.  At best it represents fairly typical modestly priced German stuff, and the use and wear over the last few years have given it a hard time.  I would definitely suggest that you plan to bring over just as much as you can that will seem to fit into the rooms which I sketched for you and will not exceed our weight allowance (allowing for the crating, etc.)

I spent some time in the bedrooms on the second floor and was a bit unhappy and surprised to find that in the master bedroom and guest bedroom which adjoins it at the front of the house there are built in identical headboards for Hollywood beds which cannot be removed from the walls; they even have electrical outlets in them.  They are shaped and sized as follows: [There follows a pencil outline of the bedroom showing the built-in headboards, with measurements indicated.]

The indent that is shown is simply a shelf indentation in the headboard.  The thing that bothers me is how are we going to use our beds in the master bedroom with this thing against the wall.  By the way, it is against the far right-hand wall in the master bedroom as you come in the door, and the far left-hand wall in the guest bedroom as you come in the door.

The mail just arrived and I had to take time out to read it—I had a jackpot.  Two letters from you, one written from Baltimore and postmarked Sept. 30, and the other from Washington marked Oct. 1.  A silly card from Viv [that would be Vivian Rabineau, the wife of the couple who were my folks’ best friends back then, and often my brother and my second parents], and a lovely letter from Rick.  The glow will last all day.  You spent the weekend in Princeton, I guess; and I watched the time over the two day period tracing your progress—now you are on the road, now having lunch, now with Rick, now having dinner, etc.  It made the weekend palatable.  You know, they are the worst times.  The office is closed Saturday and Sunday and having no car and nothing to do I find time hangs very very heavy.  I take long walks (weather permitting) in order to tire me, give me some exercise, and pass the time.  In addition, I read, and am completely absorbed in “The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich” [William L. Shirer’s 1960 history of Nazi Germany].  I find it absolutely fascinating.  This weekend  just passed was a little better.  First I met an American naval lieutenant who is here at a German Army School as an exchange student for a couple of weeks.  He happened to be making a telephone call from the lobby of the French Club, so we struck up a conversation and spent the evening (Sat.) chatting.  He came back at noon on Sunday for lunch as we sat together and had some more conversation.  I suspect I will see him again (misery loves company, you know).  In addition to that, I had a complimentary ticket to the Ballet on Sunday night.  You see, on Friday night we had a lecture on ballet in the U.S.A. (in German) at the A.H.  It was my first public appearance, and I had to make the introductory speech in German.  [See Dad’s letter of 2 October.]  It was a little frightening to stand up before a German audience and address them in German, but it went off all right and the directress of the Ballet and head choreographer, who was present, sent me a ticket for the performance.  [Nearly every German city or large town has at least a municipal theater, ballet, opera, or orchestra, and many have two or more of these.  Koblenz has all of them, and in many of these companies across Europe, American artists come to get their starts since we have so few starter troupes in this country.  Many of these American artists were the subjects for AH demonstrations, American musicians, singers, or dancers showing their skills.]  I went last night and thoroughly enjoyed it.  Obviously it was not “The N.Y. City Center Ballet,” but a lot better than I imagined, and most enjoyable.  I must say, however, that with very few exceptions the German female is not well constructed for ballet purposes.  One of the ballerinas looked more like a Valkyrie than a dancer, and one had a slight resemblance to a Knackwurst tied very loosely in the middle.  None were ungraceful or ungainly.

To get back to the house and furnishings: the master bedroom is painted a light blue and contains the following items of furniture.  All are dark wood.

1 hollywood bed frame 53″ wide (¾ bed I think)
2 chests of drawers
2 bureaus
2 night tables
2 green upholstered chairs (slipper chairs I think)
2 chiffarobes (for hanging clothes)
1 vanity or dressing table
1 odd chest (must have come out of another room, looks like a captain’s chest)

The adjoining dressing room is peach-pink in color and contains no furniture as such.  I suspect that several of the items in the bedroom belong in this room.  If you place both chiffarobes in here, I doubt that your day bed will fit.

The master bath is also the same shade of peach pink above the tile, and where there is no tile, the lower part of the wall is painted light gray.  [Most German homes and offices were painted in light and pastel colors.  When I got to Berlin later, the BOQ’s were painted in the same shades—unless, as I did, you painted them yourself and didn’t let the quartermaster dilute the base pigment with white paint.]

The guest bedroom is light yellow and contains the following:

2 chiffarobes (not matching)
2 hollywood bed frames (singles)
1 small upholstered easy chair (green)
2 night tables

The bathroom adjoining the guest bedroom is the same light blue as the master bedroom.  It has no second color since it is tiled throughout to normal tile height.

The other bedroom facing the back of the house is a pale green color has 1 single bed; 1 chiffarobe; 1 bureau; and one night table.

The downstairs furniture seems to line up as two separate sets of green upholstered nubby living room sets (two sofas, and about four chairs); a large dark wood living room piece which I can’t define.  [We ended up just calling it “the Schrank,” the generic German word for “chest.”]  It isn’t a breakfront and it has no display area.  The dining room is dark wood consisting of a table, a sideboard, a breakfront or china closet, and numerous chairs which have blue leather panels on the seat and back.  No furniture for the breakfast nook.  Haven’t gotten to the den yet.

As I said before, there are no fireplaces in the house, and no shelves for books.  There are two book racks in one of the small bedrooms, but they are like office racks or the unfinished racks that we buy at home and paint.  I suppose they could be repainted and placed in the bar alcove on the first floor.  In short, don’t plan on shipping too many books.  Just enough for our own immediate use.  We do have the use of our own library [meaning, I presume, the AH library, which contained only books on America—many in German—or books by American authors (i.e., no Dickens, Fleming, Shakespeare, Proust, Schiller, Cervantes, and so on!)].

All for now—much much much love,

                                                                                    G
*  *  *  *
Monday afternoon [8 Oct. 1962]
Darling,

Just a short note for an errand to charge you with.  I had a call from the embassy (sounds important, doesn’t it) telling me that I would have to have personal calling cards.  Please order them for me, and bring about half a dozen with you when you come.

The cards should be 2½ x 3½.  They should be engraved in script and read

Eugene Monroe K*****

You might also bring a few of your own cards or Mr. and Mrs. cards, either will do.

In haste but not without much much love and loneliness.

                                                                                    G
*  *  *  *
Tuesday, Oct. 9, 1962
My darling,

Another jackpot this morning.  Two letters from you and one from Rick, the second one from him this week.  Yours are absolutely breathless and left me panting and exhausted after reading.  His was delightful, witty and completely HIM.  [Who, me?  Musta had a ghostwriter.]  I gather he is having a good time.  Have no fear about Doug and algebra; he’ll manage fine and take it in his stride I am sure.  When you can, have school keep us informed of his progress in this one subject.

Now about the house and furniture.  First off, in your letter of Friday, Oct. 5 you mention 8100 lbs. gross weight.  I hope this is not what you’re planning to ship.  It was a bit vague as to whether this was the weight of all the furniture or just what you plan to take.  Remember we are limited to 4000 lbs. to be shipped and the balance for storage.  The first thing that strikes me is that in view of my letter of yesterday in which I discussed the built in headboards in two bedrooms whether it makes sense to bring any beds at all, and also the night table.  I would concentrate, as you mention, on the things for the first floor.  There are plenty of chests and bureaus and other bedroom items, albeit not the most attractive.  I would think the green chest, the provincial chest (is this 450 alone or along with either your or my chest, I didn’t quite understand)[.  I]f it is only about half the 450 lbs. by itself, then I would bring it and the china cabinet, and leave both of our chests home.  I think you are going to need space for storing your china, linens, and crystal.  The cabinet space in the kitchen is just barely adequate for your regular everyday things.  Again, as a general rule, concentrate on furniture for the downstairs, and we’ll make do with the bedroom things.

[What my father was suggesting to my mother was that they deemphasize the appearance of the residential areas of the house, that is, the second floor bedrooms, and focus their attentions on the entertainment and “public” parts of the house.  A large part of my dad’s job, and the part that would concern my mother most, was socializing with and entertaining the local power structure, everything from formal dinners to less formal (there was no such thing as “casual” in those days!) Weinabends and Kaffeeklatsches.  It was more important to my parents that the part of the house which would be visited by Dad’s “clients,” as it were, be presentable and functional than the private parts of the house that only the family would use.  In the end, of course, we learned to adjust to the house and the way things were done in Germany and we had a terrific and successful three years in Koblenz, as I recounted in “An American Teen in Germany.”]

Now about your departure date.  The 26th [of October, I presume] is perfect.  I can meet you in Frankfurt without any difficulty and come right to Koblenz.  My mention of the conference [see the letter of 25 September] was intended for you to arrange to come after it.  I would not be available during those two days.  Check one point.  In your letter you speak of arriving TWA, it sounds from your schedule that this is the same PAA flight I took.  Verify this with Mrs. Lewis.  [I don’t know who Mrs. Lewis was, but I suspect she was someone in the USIA office in D.C. who handled transportation arrangements.]  I hope you did get your shots and everything is complete.

Slight emergency.  Do you think you can find the passport photos we had made, and which I placed with other papers to be shipped with household effects.  If you can, send yours and mine immediately.  I need them for driver’s permits and identifications papers.  [Dad was talking about the international driver’s licenses and the German Ausweiß, a kind of internal passport we all had to carry.]  Otherwise have to wait until things arrive or have new ones made.  No great crisis, just damned thoughtless of me.

Do me a favor.  Write and mail two letters or envelopes at the same time.  Address one as usual (c/o Amer. Cons. Gen. etc.) and the other one direct to me at Amerika Haus, Schlossstrasse 51, Koblenz, Germany (.15 air mail postage).  I am quite sure the latter will save at least one day, and maybe two.  I’m anxious to find out.  [The first address was the APO address which went through the U.S. and army mail systems (for 7¢ domestic airmail postage) but got delivered to the Frankfurt Consulate and then sent by courier to Koblenz.  (Since the office was closed on weekends and American holidays, there’d be no APO mail delivery on Saturdays and holidays.)  The other was the German mail address and would have been delivered directly to Dad’s office by the Bundespost.]

Now that I have a target date for your arrival, the days will go much faster and I will have something definite to which to look forward.

                                                                        Adoringly,
                                                                                    G


[Well, that’s Dad’s second week in Koblenz alone without my mom.  I hope readers plan to return to ROT for part 3 of the series, bringing Dad’s introduction to the town and his new job up the eve of my mom’s arrival at the end of October.  I‘ll be posting the third installment in a few days, and you’ll read about the last week before my mother’s arrival in Germany.]