by May Sarton
Jane accompanied Erika to endless committee meetings with the city officials and social workers in Bremen, but since she did not bear the burden of responsibility yet, it was all rather like a holiday. It was marvelous to be able to sleep until after eight, to be able to read and write letters in her room at the hotel, which had become home by then. There were books by her bed and often flowers on the table, for she was learning that in Germany the giving of flowers accompanies every visit and how delightful a custom that is. In fact her fears that she might not cotton to the Germans had been unfounded. She was finding an immediate warmth of welcome that bowled her over.
In November Erika and Frances went off on a holiday to Italy. Erika had now been in Germany for over two years and desperately needed a rest, so Jane was left to hold the fort with the help of Lisa, a young woman who spoke English and could interpret when needed. In December she herself went on holiday to Paris to visit some of the French families and the mother superior, now very old, of the order for which she and Lucy had worked in 1918.
She came back in February to bad news—there would be no funds from Frankfurt (the McCloy Fund). This was a blow, as the negotiating had been going on for months and Jane knew that their chief there, a colonel in the army, had been keen on it. That decision threw the whole responsibility back to the German board in Bremen. They couldn’t afford to build, so they were considering taking over an army barrack as a temporary center. There was by now a lot of pressure to get things going somehow, and they waited impatiently for Erika to come back from her holiday.
Beyond the organization itself, what had to be negotiated little by little in endless meetings and discussions with the board was the philosophy of a neighborhood house. The idea of training young people by giving them responsibility, by letting them plan their own activities and run their own clubs, was a radical departure from German mores, in which training had been ingrained always to obey a leader whose word was law. But of course that change toward democracy was what the plan was all about.
The seminars under Frances played an important part in this reshaping of an ethos, but they lasted at most a few weeks. After that Jane went back to Bremen to struggle on, hoping to get things moving forward inch by inch. She was the anchor. And no doubt, in all those months of waiting, hoping, and making strategic moves, it was an asset that her own tempo was slow. She did not lose her patience, her nerve, or her faith that the dream could and would be accomplished.
But she had been in Bremen nearly a year, and she had to make a decision herself, as the time she had contracted for was nearly at an end, and the neighborhood house still had no director who would take over after she left.
During this period Jane’s letters to Lucy, who was planning to come over for the summer months, are full of uncertainty and self-questioning. She says:
About the possibility of staying over—this is the way it begins to look to me. I have been a learner ever since I have been here, and really not much else, and pretty much at government expense too! I have watched and listened and tried to understand what was going on, and have had time to read and sleep as well. Now at last the job we had hoped to get started is beginning to stir. The essence of it is, of course, the working together with other social agencies, and the attempt to bring together the people of our neighborhood. For there is an awful separateness here between religions, political parties, departments of the city government, etc. These invisible things take a long while to grasp and even longer when you don’t understand the lingo. So I feel that I have all this time been an apprentice and am only now beginning to pull my weight in the boat.
While Jane came to her own decision about staying on she was also weighing Lucy’s longing to join her, not only for that summer, but possibly to come again in the autumn as a working member of the group. For Lucy the prospect was clearly irresistible, although it would mean finding a substitute head for her school, and perhaps even retiring. Jane’s letters are full of these considerations. “When I left Warren,” she says, “nothing was at stake except my own future, and yet I felt almost overwhelmed by the uncertainty of how I should manage without being a member of the school.”
Thinking about Lucy’s hope to come over for more than a brief visit, she says:
I didn’t dream that you were turning over in your mind the possibility of coming over for some autumn months, my dear. I have found the language business so slow and hard, and my own timidity so increased by it, that I am slow to advise a short period from the point of view of what one can give to a job in that time, though it certainly can be rich in learning and observing. This whole set-up is so different from the French undertaking, largely, I suppose, because of our own ages. That all seems, at least from this distance, fairly uncomplicated and we could act with a great sense of assurance. Here there are layers and layers of things to be aware of every time one acts, and that plus increasing lethargy makes one often hesitate about acting at all! I have always had the feeling, though, of being glad to be here, to know some Germans close to, and I think it is a blessing for them to know some Americans who care.
Reading the letters and coming to see how long-drawn-out the negotiations had to be, the endless delays, the hopes that failed to materialize, I can understand very well what Jane’s presence must have meant, her quick response to each person’s needs and doubts, and her ability to “wait and see.” This must have irritated some quick movers, those who wanted to leap in and get things done, but Jane’s resilience and sense of fun, her absolute integrity and wish to serve, must surely in the end have set a remarkable example. For things did get done, little by little. And in August they were finally able to move into the barrack, a year after Jane’s arrival in Germany. Of course Lucy’s practical nature was invaluable during all the planning of the rooms, the furniture to be bought and curtains hung, the endless details to be attended to before the opening.
“How can I ever thank you,” Jane says, “for making the great trek, my dear, and for the countless thoughtful things, great and small, you managed to do to help me. When I opened my drawer and saw all my clothes washed and folded, with new stocking and slips I nearly wept.”
By August nineteenth Jane could be telling Lucy of the harvest of all the work:
These two weeks have flown and our team is working very well together. Frau Biendorf is a tower of strength and practical know-how and it is lovely to see her with the boys in the workshop—in fact her enthusiasm and friendliness with all ages is fine.
The rooms look really lovely and the shop is in constant use. Some big boys who have no work have come in to read and have asked to bring their radio. A few fathers have come, but after the first day no mothers to use the three beautiful sewing machines. School starts for the children tomorrow, and it may be then that the mothers will be free to come.
We have had a great many visitors who had heard about the house and wanted to see it. That takes so much time that I have hardly worked with the children at all, nor am I any too good with them yet, I find. My discipline is not quick enough, with the result that they fool with me just as our French boys did.
So far the boys in the shop have made towel racks for the Haus and key racks and all sorts of things for themselves, boats, a nice stool, a picture frame, etc. Now Frau Biendorf wants to give them training in using tools and have them all make one thing—lanterns. This is the season when the children march around after dark carrying lighted paper lanterns and singing. A few little girls have sewed on the towels for the kitchen and toilet and some have made dolls’ clothes under my expert guidance!
Meanwhile we bristle with interviews re our various accounts—thank goodness Lisa has a clear head!
These first days are really great fun!
The time for “reading and sleeping” was clearly over, and when Lucy did come over in November it was to take part in a going concern, and to move into a housekeeping flat with Jane, and share a small rented car. From November till March, when she had to go back to her sc
hool, there are no letters. But during that time the new Haus was finally under construction and delicate connections were being established between groups that had not worked together before. The tact and wisdom demanded become clear in a letter dated in late March of 1952:
The great thing of the week has been Elsa Brock’s visit. She is a wonderful person and has tried her best to help us Americans to see the necessity of allying ourselves with a group and giving the Nachbarhaus a Gesicht (face), i.e., that we stand for what the Arbeiter Wohlfahrt stands for. She says there is a deep sense of class struggle here, that the workers suffered so during the Hitlerzeit and were so looked down on that their long struggle for recognition was set back, and their mistrust of all other groups intensified. She feels we must take a stand that we believe in the working class and stand with them, and then gradually work with individuals from other groups whom we feel have similar values—like the Lutherhaus people. If we were an American organization we could act as we would at home and our actions would then be considered the Dummheit of foreigners who don’t understand the German scene. But if the work is to be carried on by Germans (as it must be) it must proceed in full recognition of the existing feelings and patterns. We asked all sorts of questions and she took endless pains to explain. The workers, she told us, are almost like blacks in America, or like poor people in India—so strong a caste feeling exists separating workers and professional people.
The letter ends, “Today was an orgy of curtains.” It gave me the best idea I had yet been given of the complexity of what Jane was handling, from the most minute housekeeping details to the intricate realities of a culture. How could she ever have imagined all that she would be asked to do and to understand?
It must have been a relief at times to concentrate on her own contribution to the new Haus, a map of the world which she was making on a big table. This as least she could create without having to ask anyone’s advice or deal with a committee, although several boys and other members of the community helped.
You should see our room now, a regular workshop. Frau Preis kindly let me take our dining-room table, and I have put in two leaves, so it stretches almost from the lamp to the washbasin and makes a perfect place to work on the map. I have done very little this week, but this evening got in Arabia, India, and Australia. I’m leaving Africa for black-haired Hans, who has started it and wants to finish.
In this second year in Germany the atmosphere has changed. Jane is using German words a lot in the letters and talks about many people she knows as friends and fellow workers. And her letter on her birthday to Lucy is full of joy, the joy of being loved for herself:
What a day this has been! When I got up München’s door was already open and there was a vase of glorious flowers from her awaiting me, and two packages. We decided to eat breakfast first and when we went downstairs Frau Barth was waiting to gratulieren—on the table were flowers from Frau Preis, who came in and made a birthday speech. I flew over to Lisa’s to tell her about the good peasant chairs I saw yesterday and was presented with a darling little bowl filled with forget-me-nots and primroses. She came back with me and as we started off I found hanging on the door of the car a garland of spring flowers with bells and chocolate eggs, the gayest thing you ever saw. I thought it must have come from the police force, but it turned out that Anna Uhland had come all the way to the garage, found the car gone, tracked it to Oberdeich, hung the garland, and taken the trolley all the way back to the 10:00 A.M. meeting. Can you beat that?
At the barrack there was a round of festivities. All the Kindergarten children came in and sang a song and presented me with a plate of moss, flowers, a chocolate rabbit, and eggs—such darling solemn faces!
After lunch I came back and finally ordered the whole bunch of curtains and did some other jobs. Then home, to find the most marvelous cake with a chocolate shield bringing me Glückwunsche and a gold-tied sack of chocolates full enough to last till you get back! München came home by seven and we went to Fletts for a good meal, and home for dessert—yum! I shall take the rest to the barrack tomorrow so all can enjoy a piece. What a delicious cake!
As spring came into full bloom, work was rising to a crescendo for the great move from the barrack. Jane writes:
A dazzle of spring glory: all the first fruit trees are out, the chestnuts are towers of green, sailboats on the river, children bathing, birds singing, and everyone expansive. The house has dried out so fast that the linoleum is down—furniture goes in this week. And three of our staff plan to move in this week. Frances and Erika will arrive tomorrow night, Joan Plummer the day after. The hope is to close the barrack on the twenty-seventh, pack things together on Monday the twenty-eighth, and move them over on Tuesday, the twenty-ninth to their new abode with horse and buggy.
On April twenty-fifth she tells Lucy:
I’ve just come in from our last evening in the barrack, and we couldn’t believe that almost a year had come around since we first started coming in that door. It was a nice evening. München made a little speech to tell the children that they were at the heart of the doings at the barrack and would be in the new Haus, and that we counted on their help to make it the kind of place it should be. Tonight München is sleeping in her new room. On Monday we hope to pack up the barrack things and on Tuesday move them over. There are three teams, six men each, of Jugendliche who have volunteered to move the stuff, and we may get a horse and cart as well. The big things, office stuff, will go over in the VW bus.
And at last The Day arrived, and Jane’s letter of April twenty-ninth is exuberant:
The great Umzug from barrack to Haus was accomplished today. Tables and chairs were piled on the horsecart to an unbelievable height. On the second trip they attached the sign from our gate up over the driver’s head. Two little boys marched ahead carrying brooms with colored streamers. Wolfgang rode behind on his bike and a great stream of children and young people danced along on either side of the slow procession.
The unloading went like lightning but all in good order, and at the end they all went out on the terrace and had a drink of Coca Cola all round.
By May fourth, “Lilacs, hawthorn, and chestnuts are in flower. Bremen is a garden.” And on that day, “Herr Uhland brought the wording for a bronze plaque that will tell that it has been a joint effort of Germans and Americans and what the purpose of the Haus is, ‘a place where all can learn and experience living together in a truly democratic fellowship.’”
On May twenty-second the map is set in place, and on May twenty-fifth Jane can say:
The first two housewarming parties are over and really a fine success. The Jugendliche just couldn’t have been nicer. Everyone came looking so washed and combed and pleased to be there, and they all did their stuff carefully and with pride in doing it well. And then the dance was delightful. Herr Uhland came to the party and we danced the first waltz together, and he was as jubilant as I.
As I read over the letters, feeling my way into what did prove to be the fruitful adventure Jane had so hoped it could be, to see how useful her presence had been and what it had meant to have Lucy at her side for two long visits, I felt an immense relief that she had, after the hard time at the end at the Warren School, found the resilience and power to make her own renewal through such a difficult and demanding project. But I wondered sometimes whether the Holocaust had ever been mentioned or talked about. How could one be in Germany in the fifties and appear to ignore it? And to be with so many liberal Germans like Herr Uhland, and never have it surface? So I was happy to come upon a letter written in the midst of the rejoicing about the move to the Haus which had this to recount on May eighteenth:
Today was distinguished by an amazingly moving ceremony at the Jewish graveyard, where their chapel, destroyed by Bremen citizens, was rededicated. Their rabbi, who had emigrated to the United States, flew over for the service, and his speech honoring the friends who had been faithful unto death—nine hundred fifteen Jews from the Bremen synagogue—was unforget
table. Many of us stood outside the chapel in the sun among the peaceful graves with their Hebrew inscriptions, and I could hardly believe that the things he told of had happened only five years ago. Then we all walked to the new monument and the Bürgermeister spoke. He was so deeply moved by what had been said that at first he could hardly speak. Then gradually the words poured out of him, the terrible weight of shame before such brutality done in our time by German hands. However to atone for it, how to go forward and rebuild a civilization that could have sunk so low? We must all together teach our children to respect one another and to value and protect individual freedoms. Germany seeks to be respected by the world and this can happen only if she respects and cares for all her citizens regardless of race or color. At the end he said, “I take this memorial under the protection of the city of Bremen and bow in homage to the men and women to whom it is dedicated.”
It must have meant much to the group of Jewish families, mostly old people, who were there from Bremen, Lübeck, and Kiel. It certainly meant much to the rabbi, for he and the Bürgermeister were old friends who had stood by each other through the days when both, for different reasons, were suspect. The Bürgermeister recalled those days with a final tribute.
Part V
Homecoming
If Jane in some moments of homesickness had thought of homecoming as coming back to a changeless world in Cambridge and Sudbury, what she had to meet was radical change in her own surroundings, the planning and taking hold of a new pattern. I think she found first of all, as she had suggested in a letter to Lucy from Germany, that she did not need to go back to Warren, that the German experience had in some way cut the cord that had held her for many years so tightly. And I think she rather enjoyed her relation to the new head, Julian Starbuck, whom she had known well in the years when he had been a teacher at the school, enjoyed being an elder statesman, for Julian held her in high esteem and liked having her ear now and then when he needed to talk over problems. He asked her, for instance, to come and talk to the apprentice teachers about her German experience.
