On Christmas Eve of 1938, Grandfather wrote from a hotel in Paris to my parents, who were still in Budapest. After Ernst and his second wife, Ella, left Vienna in the spring, they had gone first to the family homestead in Sušice, and from there to Switzerland, a place that might have provided sanctuary during the war. But it wounded my grandfather’s dignity to have to report to the Swiss police every week, and so he left for Paris, where, he was convinced, foreigners were treated better. His Christmas letter from there shows that he has every intention of staying. That letter, the earliest in our collection, is an energetic introduction to a man determined to continue enjoying a life — albeit a diminished one — over which he expects to retain a considerable degree of control.
Dec. 24, 1938
My dear children!
Hearing your voices [they must have phoned] and the chirping of the children again after such a long time was a very nice Christmas surprise and gave me great pleasure. Also I thank you in both our names for the greeting from Budapest in the form of an excellent and perfectly fresh nussbeugel [a nut-filled pastry].
On the other hand I miss your answer to my last very extensive letter, which I hope you received. You now know that I intend to stay here for some time. When we get our cartes d’identité about January 10th, we plan to rent a furnished apartment, spacious enough for not-too-demanding houseguests. Ella and I would be delighted if all four of you would be our guests. After such a long separation, it would be refreshing and raise our spirits to be together again.
Tonight, after many weeks at home, we will have dinner at Little Hungary, perhaps we can get a halászlé [a Hungarian fish soup]. Thanks for the subscription to the Neue Züricher Zeitung, but please inform the newspaper office of our correct address, which they botched up.
A thousand hugs for big and small
from your faithful
Father
My parents were only three weeks away from leaving their own apartment in Budapest forever. On January 13, 1939, they packed their suitcases and left for Switzerland with my sister, me, and our nursemaid, Nene. Mother — who impulsively packed the Christmas tree ornaments in the suitcases, the only household objects she carried — remembers that the mistletoe was still hanging over the doorway of the apartment.
Before they left, Grandfather wrote again from Paris, outlining what he knew about one of the very good reasons for our departure: Hungary’s new Jewish Laws. My parents, though thoroughly assimilated and secularized through several generations (note the Christmas ornaments), and more recently converts to Catholicism, might nevertheless be powerfully affected by these laws. Of course my father, who had already made up his mind to leave, was all too well aware of the gathering clouds. Indeed it was he who had urged my grandfather to leave Europe. Here is my grandfather from Paris:
Dec. 30, 1938
My dear children!
Today I read a very thorough report about the new Jewish laws in Hungary and I have come to the conclusion that from now on for Jews, not only will social and political life be restricted, but also economic progress — the aim of honorable work — will be made impossible. But why should I make your hearts heavier than they already are by lamenting and complaining? Rather, I am all for your making the energetic decision to emigrate as soon as possible and to start a new existence over there. In the provisional bill I read a passage that intends to facilitate emigration for Jews. That, hopefully, means that they will be permitted to take with them a certain percentage of their property in one form or another. As clearly as the rest of the bill is written, this portion is left unclear, and I put little hope in the law’s mercy.
But even in the most unfavorable case, you should stick to your decision. You know that when I left Vienna I could only rescue a small, modest fraction of my possessions. Still you can count on me over there. Even if I have to reduce my own needs, I’ll help you out until you manage to earn your own living.
Find out whether Gretl has a small wish and put it on her birthday table in my name.
By spring of 1939, Ernst and Ella had moved from Paris to Nice, seeking a better climate and better company for their bridge game. By now they had been joined by Ernst’s widowed sister-in-law, Cecile Fürth. Ernst was no doubt also looking for a place where they could live more economically than in Paris. As he says, he had been able to rescue only a small fraction of his wealth. Despite his initial confidence, these funds eventually ran out. As long as he could, my father saw to it — until it became illegal — that my grandfather was supplied with money.
