Eva

by Jack Dold

Overview

Eva Rothschild was born into the upscale Berlin world of the 1920s, an artistic, Cabaret society that lived on the edge between the two World Wars. Her secure world crumbled to pieces with the arrival of Hitler’s storm troopers, forcing her parents to flee with their two daughters from Germany to Montevideo, Uruguay. Energetic and alive, she yearned for freedom to express herself in her own fashion, through dance and learning, until she finally took the daunting step of moving to New York City. In her third country, with her third language, she found the life she sought, with Boris Kastel, who was also on a personal life quest. Eva’s story covers nearly a century. And it is by no means finished.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781496942807
Publisher:	AuthorHouse
Publication date:	10/10/2014
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	300
File size:	4 MB

Read an Excerpt

Eva

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By Jack Dold

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2014 Jack Dold
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4969-4282-1

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CHAPTER 1

CABARET

1922

"Julius, what are we to do, now that we have a family?" Lotte Rothschild asked her husband in a tremulous voice. They were in his office at the Jockey Club. Outside the room, in an elegant salon, fashionable men lounged in overstuffed leather chairs, waiting for their fitting or measuring session, conversing quietly or reading the Post Zeitung, the London Times or one of the dozen magazines that sat on the tables.

"The world seems like it is falling apart," Lotte continued. "The mark has lost all of its value. I saw some billion-mark bills at the store today. They are paying the people three times a day and giving them breaks so they can buy bread before the price goes up."

"I have told you Lotte, I am not trading in marks." Julius let out a sigh of frustration put down his pen and turned to his wife. "We have gone over this a hundred times, Liebchen. My business is based in London and Paris. I deal in francs and pounds sterling. We have become very wealthy as a result. There is nothing to fear."

"But I am afraid, Julius. This city has become a place of sin. Look at the people who frequent the cabarets, and the music that is coming from them. What kind of a world will our daughter find when she comes of age?"

"She will find a wonderful world that we have fashioned for her. Do you think that we have acquired all of these lovely things without hard work? We are living a very fine life, Lotte. Be happy about that."

"Of course, I'm happy, dear," Lotte said, bowing her head almost in submission. But then she looked at her husband with fear in her eyes. "I think we should move to Paris or London."

"We will not leave Berlin at this time!"

Julius threw his pen down and walked around the desk, taking his wife by the hand to escort her to the door.

"Get yourself under control, Lotte. It is precisely because of the bad times that we are thriving. One pound sterling is worth a fortune today. The wealthy in Berlin are not to be found drunk in the cabarets and clubs. They are at the opera or at home, safe and sound. And they are buying my fine clothes and taking holidays on the Costa del Sol or lounging on the beaches in Crete. No, Lotte, Berlin is the place for us right now. It is an opportunity not to be missed."

Eva's mother wasn't convinced.

"What a world for our Evchen to be born into! What sort of future will she have? I heard just today that some of those dreadful Americans were throwing coins on the floor of the Hundekeller if women would take off their clothes to pick them up. What have we become? Have we no shame?"

"We are paying the penalty for our beloved Kaiser, my dear. Our country has been squashed by the heel of the victors, and France and England mean to have their way with us. Be thankful that we are on their side, Lotte. This day will pass, and Germany will become strong again. It is the way we are. It is the way we have always been."

Lotte found herself outside her husband's office, in the salon. Several of the clients, who had been eavesdropping on the conversation, paused briefly in their own discussions or reading, then averted their eyes. Embarrassed, Lotte quickly left the Jockey Club.

Two years later, a second child was born, and though the Rothschilds had been praying for a son, they welcomed Elisa into their world as a playmate for their darling Evchen, Little Eva. There was never any question which daughter was the favorite. From birth, Eva was a smiling, happy, alert child, totally capturing the heart of her parents with her precocious ways, her boundless energy and inquisitiveness. Elisa, who immediately took on the nickname of Lisel, was of an entirely different temperament—quiet, somewhat sickly, subdued.

The family occupied an upscale townhouse in city center Berlin, with the Spielzimmer and Schlafzimmer for the children removed from the living quarters of the parents. There the girls played together, though they were hardly close friends, sometimes joined by their red-headed cousin, Ellen Bier, who lived in Frankfurt but visited often. Julius and Lotte didn't allow their daughters outside of their own circle. Too young to know the shame of defeat and the German reaction to the Treaty of Versailles, of berserk inflation and unemployment, they were not even aware that the world was frantically heading into even more devastating depression. None of that penetrated the Rothschild playroom.

"Eva, Lisel, are you dressed? Uma is waiting for us."

It was a weekly event, an afternoon at the Zunfz Café on Unter den Linden with Grandmother Furstenthal and their mother, a chance for Eva and Lisel to dress up, "properly" was the word that Mutti used, and behave in a perfectly "adult" fashion. Here they sipped their warm chocolate and daintily tasted a wonderful variety of Kuchen and Tortes, filling the morning with chatter, to the delight of their mother and grandmother.

"Umi, have you ever tasted anything so delicious?" Eva would blurt after her first bite of a strudel.

"Where on earth does she come up with such questions?" her grandmother would exclaim, planting a kiss on Eva's cheek.

It was all the inspiration Eva would need to continue what she considered an "adult conversation," required in such elevated circumstances.

Eva grew to become an outgoing, chattering sprite of a girl, with a head of curly black hair, and a perpetual smile on her face. When the time came, she entered the public Volksschule in the city center, and she thrived. Class pictures show her always in the front of the class, usually near the teacher. Once a week, she left her class with the other Jewish girls for a lesson in Hebrew and scriptures. As she grew, her annual Mother's Day cards and New Year greetings added a bit of Hebrew to the message, each year providing evidence of her progress in the difficult language. Her family could not be called practicing Jews. Once a year her mother observed the High Holy Days with her grandmother, but her father had long ago retreated completely into agnosticism. For Eva, being Jewish only meant a class a week away from her schoolmates. It never occurred to her that she was anything but a young German girl.

Now and then Lotte Rothschild would host the women in their Kaffeekränzchen, where they would sit around and gossip, sipping their coffee and plowing through the fertile fields of Berliner scandal for hours during the afternoon. Eva would sneak down to the stair landing to listen in on the conversation, much of which she didn't understand, but all of which was undoubtedly important or these elegant ladies wouldn't be discussing it.

"Did you read about Dietrich? She is supposed to be working on a new film, "der Blaue Engel."

"What's so special about Dietrich? I think she is sort of a slut."

"Have you seen her legs, Ilse? With those legs she doesn't have to work at night."

"I think we have legs as nice as hers," Hildrun Mathies asserted.

"Oh, be serious Hildrun! Next thing, you'll be trying out for the Tiller girls to go high-kicking on Kurfurstendamm. That would be a sight!"

"I want to go over to the Romanische Cafe bookstore and listen to Erich Remarque speak," Tanya Heidel declared. "Have you read his latest book, Im Westen Nichts Neues? They say it is scandalous."

"I've read it, Tanya" Lotte volunteered, taking a petite sip of her coffee. "It is nothing of the sort. It tells of the horrors experienced by our brave soldiers in useless battles. I think that Herr Remarque is a wonderful writer."

"Well, I say, if you want an argument," Ilse changed the subject, "what about that new play of Berthold Brecht that just opened at the Theater on Schiffbauerdamm? It's about our wonderful underworld here in Berlin. I'm told it is quite good."

"Die Dreigroschenoper?" Helga Schimpfer joined in. "Max and I have tickets for next week."

"Did they cost you three pennies for the opera, darling?"

"That's hardly funny, Hildrun. Berlin has wonderful theater. We must have twenty different stages where you are bound to find something you like."

For Eva, now fully seven years old, this was straight spoonfuls of sugar, secretly listening to her mother's friends as they reviewed everything about the arts in Berlin. For her it was as if the entire world were magic, one gigantic stage in which she dreamed she held the leading role. She was the new protégé of Isadora Duncan, flowing across the stage at the Admirals-Palast.

"I am going to be a great dancer when I grow up," she confided to her little sister. "I am going to be one of the Isadorables."

"Can I come to see you, Eva?" Lisel would plead, wide-eyed.

"Of course. They always have a special box for the family to sit and watch. And I will be able to bring you back stage so you can meet the other dancers."

"Will you teach me to dance too? Please?"

"Instead of dancing, maybe we should have our own Kaffeekränzchen," Eva suggested one day to her cousin and sister.

"But Eva, we can't drink coffee," Ellen protested.

"No, but we can talk a lot! I'll ask Mutti to get us a tea set. I'm sure she won't mind. Then we can discuss the latest books and plays and movie stars in an intelligent way."

"I can't even read yet," Lisel moaned. "How can I discuss books and plays?"

"Oh, Lisel," Eva rolled her eyes toward her cousin, barely able to tolerate her baby sister. "I don't mean real books, just as I don't mean real coffee. We can make things up you know. I'll ask Mutti right away."

She didn't receive the answer she was expecting.

"Eva, I can't get you a tea set right now," Lotte said sadly. "There has been a serious crisis in the world, and many people have lost all of their money, some even their houses. We will have to do without things for a little while, but when it gets better, I promise, you will have your tea set."

That was the year the stock market crashed in New York, and half a million Berliners, nearly six million Germans, were thrown out on the streets jobless. But the Jockey Club kept selling expensive suits and coats and Eva never knew the full extent of the world depression.

* * *

Once a year, Julius Rothschild made his pilgrimage to England to secure the fine fabrics that were sold in his Jockey Club establishment. It was a heady time, that decade between war and depression. Even though Germany was financially and politically humiliated by the Treaty of Versailles that ended The Great War, the Twenties were a time of growth and rebuilding, with money to be made and money to be spent. The Rothschild name had been famous for a century in doing both, mostly the former. Julius' father, Josef, lived in Frankfurt operating a maze of profitable businesses. The family had spread to Israel, where there was a fine wine business under their label, a label that had become world famous in the lush valleys of Bordeaux. Life was good throughout the Rothschild world.

"How is business, Julius?" a friend asked him as they were having lunch upstairs in the Sherlock Holmes Pub on Northumberland Street in Westminster. "Are the stories true about the horrible inflation in Berlin?"

"They are indeed true," Julius answered between bites of well-done lamb. "The old Papiermark is completely gone, lost in the most amazing inflation the world has ever seen. They replaced it with the Rentenmark, taking nine zeros off in one stroke, and that seems to have stabilized the currency. We now have the Reichsmark. The problem is the debt from the Treaty of Versailles. To paraphrase a metaphor from your Shakespeare, Britain and France have extracted a pound of flesh from the bones of the German cadaver ..." He paused for a sip of claret. "... and they have taken all of the blood at the same time. Fortunately I have been able to survive the inflation because I have an English product."

"And what of that product? Are you still finding customers?"

"Herbert, I will always find customers, as long as they let me operate." Julius sat back in his chair and allowed himself a small joke. "Even the Communists want fine clothes, and these new Fascists will want the best of worsted military capes and overcoats. The odd thing is that the name Jockey Club in Berlin doesn't make anyone angry. It is like I am offering a neutral service. I hope it stays that way, but to be honest, deep down in my bones, I feel that my days are numbered."

"Numbered? In what way, Julius? As one of your main suppliers, I haven't noticed any lessening in your orders."

"No, my clientele is holding. They have always been upscale and not subject to the whims of the economy, but I fear the enemy is not the economy." He held out his palm as though he were trying to stop something. "There is a building resentment against the Jews in Germany. I feel it. My kind of business, which does well even in hard times, is a target for the new politics both left and right. I have not mentioned my misgivings to Lotte, because she doesn't understand our business anyway, but I know we are in for difficult times. We may even have to leave Germany before too long. That stock market crash in New York may just be the thing that starts the change, not only in Germany but everywhere." He took a large swallow of his wine, shaking his head sadly. "We are in for hard times, Herbert. Have you read anything about our National Socialists?"

"I have read about Hitler. He seems to be all the rage, even here in Britain. Everyone is holding out great hopes for him, saying he will bring about prosperity once more." Herbert looked questioningly at Julius.

"Don't you agree?"

"I would love to agree, but I can't." Unconsciously Julius made fists with both hands and he grimaced. "Quite honestly, the man scares the hell out of me. What you don't see here in London are the prisoner camps being built, and the anti-Jewish rhetoric that is everywhere. And the beatings inflicted on average people by his storm troopers.

Herbert looked shocked. "I hope you are wrong, my friend. After the Great War, we have all prayed that the fighting is over. But I know you are right in some of the things you say. Right now the Yanks are the most powerful people in the world, full of spirit and energy. If their world falls, I can't imagine that ours is far behind."

"Well, let's enjoy our wine and pray that we are both wrong!" Julius held his glass up for a toast. "Meanwhile, ship that fabric on the next train. We are running short on much of our supply. I am heading for Paris to see what the new men's fashions look like. I don't expect there will be much of a change, but you never know."

* * *

"Vati, you're home!" Eva exclaimed, rushing from her room and down the stairs to jump into her father's arms. "We have all missed you. Our picnics in Grünewald just aren't the same without you."

"It's nice to be home, Evchen. I'll ask your mother to plan a special outing, maybe to Wannsee, on one of the boats."

Somehow, through all of the political strife that rocked Weimar Germany and Berlin in particular, and the cultural and social chaos created by the Great Depression, unemployment and monetary insecurity, the Rothschild family maintained itself, a tiny island of security in the midst of a national storm. The girls remained unaware that the storm would soon become a hurricane.

"Eva, we have a special birthday present for you," Lotte told her daughter as her ninth birthday approached. "It is a surprise, but I can give you a hint. We will have to find you a new dress for next Saturday."

"Oh, are we going to the theater, Mutti?" she blurted out, clapping and jumping around the playroom.

"Well, not quite, Liebchen," Lotte said with a smile, "but you are very close."

"I wish we could go see Isadora Duncan. It is the thing I most pray for."

"Patience, Eva. You'll just have to wait until Saturday."

Never did a week move by so slowly! Eva could barely contain herself as she counted the days until the weekend, unable even to think about her school work. Finally the big day arrived. She awoke to find a large box with a big pink bow on top sitting near the edge of her bed. Lisel saw it first.

"Eva! You have a present!"

The two girls jumped up and down, performing an impromptu dance around the box.

"Hurry! Open it up!"

"A dress! Oh, what a beautiful dress! Look Lisel, there are sequins, and lace! And it's pink!"

"Put it on, Eva. You will look like a princess. Oh, put it on!"

That evening she was a princess as, holding tightly to her father's arm, she walked on air into the Admirals-Palast, one of Berlin's most elegant concert and dance halls. There she was thrilled by a performance of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake. Eva sat mesmerized as the story of Siegfried and Odette unfolded before her. Lotte smiled as she watched tears flow down the cheeks of her lovely daughter, tapping her husband on the arm to catch his attention.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Eva by Jack Dold. Copyright © 2014 Jack Dold. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
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