Here, Take It, and Don’t Cry [Nadir Un Vayn Nisht]

Posted on April 15, 2023 by johnshortlandwriter

The evening of Sunday 8^th February 1942 saw an elite group of actors, writers and singers come together to celebrate the work of their friend and colleague, Jakub Obarzanek, then at the height of his fame as an editor, comic writer and satirist. Within months all of them would be dead, shot or gassed in the concentration camps of Poland, executed because of their Jewish heritage or political comment, or both.

*Invitation for the evening performance celebrating the work of Jakub Obarzanek, 1942*

Jakub was born on 15^th January 1891, probably in the city of Lodz where he lived for much of his life. The first son born to Samuel & Gitla, and into a comfortably off family, he would have been expected to follow in his father’s footsteps and work in the family business as a wholesale cloth merchant. However, Jakub had always wanted to write and in 1918 he published his first pieces of work – humorous songs and verses in the Lodzier Togblat, one of the premier Polish Jewish newspapers.

*Jakub Obarzanek standing left with three workmates, 1930s*

Writing always in Yiddish, and under the pen name ‘Ob-nek’, Jakub very quickly developed a following amongst his readers and soon joined the permanent staff, editing and writing for the Friday edition. As his talent develops, he begins writing sketches satirising everyday Jewish Street life which, again is eagerly read by a public wanting more. During this time, he also begins collaborating with various revue theatres writing witty sketches, songs and monologues. All was going well until 1939 when the Germans invaded Poland, arriving in Lodz on September 8th.

*Najer Folksblat newspaper, one of the publications Josef wrote for*

One of the first moves the Gestapo made was to arrest Jewish writers and intelligentsia and Jakub along with others was taken to Radogoszcz, a factory now being used as a prison. It had no baths or kitchens. Almost immediately the killings began with the intelligentsia taken into nearby woods and shot. For reasons unknown, Jakub was freed in early 1940, possibly because a ransom of 150 marks would permit prisoners to be relocated to the Lodz Ghetto. However, sometime during 1940 he had made his way – or perhaps been taken – to Warsaw. Here, confined in the Ghetto he continues with his writing, helps to create a new revue theatre and providing them with material. The last we hear of Jakub is the evening performance celebrating his work.

*The Radogoszcz* *factory where Jakub was imprisoned and now a museum [Wikipedia]*

It is not known whether Jakub was present for the performance. My feeling is probably not. What we do know is that he was once again arrested and was finally executed during April 1943. Married to Mala, Jakub had a daughter, name sadly unknown, and two sons, Moshe and Simon. Mala and the girl perished in the death camps. Whether they died alongside Jakub is also unknown, or even if they were with him after he moved to Warsaw. Both Moshe and Simon survived the concentration camps but were very badly traumatised by their childhood suffering. They ended their days in Israel but I have little knowledge of whether they were able to lead a full and fulfilling life.

*Translated description of the invitation, 1942*

The performers at the celebration of Jakub’s work were, as mentioned celebrated artists of their day.

Zymra Zeligfeld – a famous singer of Yiddish folk songs – murdered in Treblinka Death Camp, 1942
Chana Lerner – actress and wife of Dawid Zajderman, tenor – murdered together 3^rd November 1943, Majdanek Death Camp
Symche Fostel – comic actor of International renown – murdered in Pontiatowa Death Camp, 1943
Jack Lewi – actor of International renown & close friend of Franz Kafka – murdered in Treblinka Death Camp, 1942

A(jzyk) Samberg – famous Jewish actor – murdered in Poniatowa Death Camp 1943 Prof (Icchak) Zaks – founded the Internationally renowned, 120-strong Icchak Zaks Chorus; researcher and translator of opera into Yiddish, and music teacher – murdered in Treblinka Death Camp, 1942

*l-r: Zymra Zeligfeld, Chana Lerner, Symche Fostel (centre), Icchak Zaks*
*all had been executed by the end of 1943* *[Wikipedia]*

Jakub, as has been shown, was a popular man, much admired by his friends and colleagues; he must have been a brave man too and not only with his satirical writing and working knowing that he was unlikely to survive the war. Earlier, just prior to WW1, my grandfather, Harry Obarzanek, Jakub’s younger brother had been living in England when he was conscripted into the Russian army (Poland at that time was part-under Russian control). Now in army camp in Ukraine, he wrote to Jakub telling of his anxiety of being away from his wife for three years. Jakub arrived bringing false papers, civilian clothes and a ticket to England and helped Harry abscond whilst on duty. If they had been caught both would have been shot. If it hadn’t been for my great-uncle Jakub’s help, perhaps my own family would have suffered the same terrible fate as Jakub’s. A humbling thought. I hope that with my writing, I have given Jakub the voice that was so very nearly lost, and that it is an adequate tribute to our brave and witty family hero.

*Brothers: my grandfather, Harry (left) & my great-uncle Jakub Obarzanek*

How appropriate it seems that I am able to write about Jakub’s life and publish it on the 80^th anniversary of his death. A very special thanks to Chaya Bercovici who saw my initial Facebook plea for information relating to Jakub and, by some miracle, remembered hearing of my grandfather’s escape from Poland. Is it too fanciful that Jakub, knowing of this, might have said, “Nadir un vayn nisht”, “Here, take it, and don’t cry”, the words used as the title to his tribute evening?

Three Very Special Cotswold Reasons – revisited

Posted on February 18, 2023 by johnshortlandwriter

Back in 2009 – which seems a lifetime ago now – I responded to a question posed by The Guardian newspaper and the English tourist authority: select three things that make a place very special. Naturally, I chose the Cotswolds and to my delight, my blog was just one of ten chosen and published by them to promote visits to this country. After fourteen years, I thought it time to take another look. Although the reasons still stand up well I’ve updated the photos and some of the text.

1. Space and Peace. I know this is technically two reasons but they are so interlinked that, in my mind, they only count as one. Besides, that way I can cram in an extra reason without appearing to cheat too much. The flat topped, rolling limestone hills that make up the Cotswolds offer far reaching views to the vales beyond. They free the mind and let the spirit wander – a rare occurrence in the busy world we all inhabit. This view looks north over glorious country to the Vale of Evesham and just invites you to start walking towards a distant goal.

Hidden in deep valleys, crystal clear streams create more secretive places to explore or to sit quietly by their banks to watch the water flow, sometimes gently, sometimes more noisily, by.

The King’s Men stone circle forms part of the Rollright Stones and have been a meeting place since they were set here 4,500 years ago. In early morning light they appear mysterious and brooding but when the sun strikes them their colours and markings are awe inspiring. Rest here a while, at a time when you can be alone, for the feeling of peace is palpable.

And give back to the soil an offering, (when we have taken so much away), as others have done from the beginnings of time and continue to do so. Single flowers placed at the centre of the circle have a calm simplicity…

2. Nature. It is impossible not to be aware of nature in the Cotswolds, whether it is the magnificence of old trees, the deer crossing roads in front of you or the cloud formations of our large skyscapes. This ancient ash tree has watched centuries of agricultural change take place and, despite modern farming practice, still stands proud in a hedgerow dividing wheatfields. In 2009 the fungal disease Ash Dieback was unknown. It is now thought that the majority of ash trees will succumb to it robbing the English landscape of their beauty. At present, the old pollard seems unaffected but whether it will survive only time will tell.

Since 2009 we have all become so much more aware of the value of dark skies. With so few big towns, the Cotswolds is a place where the nights are darker and the stars shine more brightly.

Deer are common throughout the Cotswolds. Roe and the introduced Muntjac are frequently seen but perhaps the prettiest, when in their spotted summer coats, are the Fallow.

In our rivers and streams, otters, although rarely seen, are now becoming evermore common – something else that has happened since 2009.

There are some exotic surprises too! A macaw outside a garage in Charlbury and alpaca seem to be everywhere, I wrote in 2009. The macaw has gone and even alpaca seem less common now but not far from the secret valley it is possible to see wolves and bear. I don’t think the two facts are connected!

3. History. The Cotswolds are steeped in history and it is the history of wealth and the power it brings. Sheep – or more accurately, their wool – were the originators of this wealth and the region still has a higher population of sheep to humans. But how to illustrate this when there is so much scope to choose from? Bliss Mill, in Chipping Norton, is now converted to luxury apartments but, for most of its time, produced some of the finest tweeds in Britain. I have since written in more detail of the history of the mill, the fire that engulfed it and the strike by the workers that brought poverty and starvation to the town (link here).

The churches of the Cotswolds were also a by-product of wool – the wealth it created is often shown by their huge size in proportion to the numbers of the local population. The photos I originally published were of St Mary’s, Chipping Norton. The ones below are of St Mary’s, Swinbrook; the village was the home of the famous (or, perhaps, infamous), Mitford sisters.

*In 1940 the church suffered damage by a stray German bomb during WW2*…

*…the vicar collected the ancient shattered glass* *which was incorporated into this memorial window*

So, come and visit the Cotswolds and decide for yourself. And, in the meantime, select three things that make your special place, special.

Mother’s Hero: Arthur Rainsford Mowlem

Posted on June 11, 2022 by johnshortlandwriter

When I published my article on ‘The Man Who Never Was’, the story of Operation Mincemeat, a year ago, I hadn’t realised that a film was to be released in May 2022. Perhaps, if I had I would have delayed the publication by a few months! In it, I described the rather tenuous connection with my father’s cousin, HAL Fisher. The interest and comments I received made me explore deception used as a weapon during World War II. It was this that led me to learn about the use of plastic surgery to change people’s appearance for the purpose of espionage.

Although surgery to alter appearance has been carried out to a limited extent throughout history it was during the Second World War that it began to be developed in earnest. A popular reason given for this was the desire to treat badly injured pilots who had survived their aircraft being shot down. However, there was a far more secret purpose being carried out too – to assist the SOE (the UK’s Special Operations Executive) in their missions behind enemy lines. In released official documents, the procedures – known euphemistically as ‘permanent make-up’ – are listed as casually as one might write a shopping list: ‘plastic operations to forehead’, ‘surgical operations to ears’, and so on. Once war was over some of the recipients began to talk about their treatment which, although disapproved of by the Government, were not silenced.

*“An excellent agent and a dependable officer” – before and after surgery*

Arthur Rainsford Mowlem, born in New Zealand in 1902, came to England in the late ‘20s to further his development as a medic. In 1936 he joined the practice of Sir Harold Gillies, also a New Zealander and described as ‘the father of modern plastic surgery’. Here they worked alongside pioneering new methods of treatment. It is unknown when or how Mowlem and other surgeons were enlisted to help the SOE and Mowlem never spoke of it during his lifetime. However, in correspondence between him and the SOE he discusses the prospect of surgery to alter the appearance of a French agent. How Mowlem felt about operating on these healthy men is unknown but an un-named surgeon tells of how the work now required of them “was a mockery of all that they had trained for”.

*My mother, Rachel Oberzanek: 21st birthday portrait*

My mother’s career with Odeon Cinemas had progressed rapidly throughout the war and by 1944 she was heading the Licencing Department with a team of assistants. Odeon had, by then, evacuated their offices from London to the small, riverside town of Marlow in Buckinghamshire. She was accommodated in a lovely and old country house in the nearby village of Well End. Living at the Old Malt House must have seemed a different world from the London’s West End where she had been brought up and she would tell of how she would lean out of her bedroom window to pick fruit from the grapevine that grew on the house walls. With extensive grounds, a cook and a housekeeper and the use of a chauffeured car it must have been a life of relative luxury that she would have been unused to. It was here that she also met her future husband – my father – so a very happy and untroubled time for her. All that changed in an instance when, on the first day of December 1945 during the black-out, her car was involved in a head-on accident.

*The Old Malt House, Well End* *– grapevines cover the front of the building – c1943*

In those days of cars with no seat belts, my mother had taken the full force of the crash and had been catapulted through the windscreen. Unconscious, she was taken by ambulance to Wycombe Hospital and with multiple facial and head injuries unexpected to survive the night. Fortunately, Odeon proved to be excellent and supportive employers, driving her parents down from London and accommodating them so that they were able to visit her regularly. On Christmas Day she came out of the coma unaware of what had happened over the past month. She would tell of how she had first heard singing and, opening her eyes, saw a blurred vision of people dressed in white that she though must be angels. They were, of course, her nurses singing a carol! Badly scarred and with broken nose and cheekbones she was finally released from hospital unable to work and embarrassed about being seen in public. In her memoir, she described the first day she had to enter a crowded room and how it fell silent when she appeared, a humiliating and distressing moment.

*My mother, in the grounds of The Old Malt House, and looking so happy, just before the accident that changed her life – and her appearance*

Six months after her accident, Odeon who had been caring for her as well as paying her salary all this time arranged for her to be taken to London to see a doctor at The London Clinic in Harley Street. The doctor was surgeon Arthur Rainsford Mowlem; in mother’s words, “a charming man who promised me he would do all he could.” There followed a series of operations over many weeks where he reconstructed the badly damaged side of her face, repaired the cheekbones, and rebuilt her badly broken nose using part of her hipbone. Looking at her wedding photograph, taken such a short time after in the autumn of 1946, his skilful work is quite extraordinary although my mother kept the picture hidden away; all she could see was a face that didn’t quite belong to her. Nowadays, I imagine, she would have received some sort of counselling but then it was just a case of ‘getting on with it’.

*My parents on their wedding day – just weeks after her face had been reconstructed*

Living well into her 90s, mother’s issues with discomfort in her neck and head waned over time only to be replaced by a later source of (bemused) irritation. When visiting hospitals there would be a succession of doctors and nurses wanting to look at her facial surgery for none had seen such early reconstruction and to see how it had fared over seventy years. She had been told that she was the first civilian to receive plastic surgery and for the remainder of her long life she was eternally grateful to Odeon Cinemas who had cared for her and paid for her treatment. Most of all, she was grateful to Rainsford Mowlem, without whom she would have had a lifetime of disfigurement; to her he was, indeed a hero.

*Mum on her 90th birthday – and seventy years after the facial reconstruction*

To read the story of Operation Mincemeat and The Man Who Never Was click here

References:
Wikipedia Arthur Rainsford Mowlem

Amin, Kavit Rainsford Mowlem: An unsung father of reconstructive surgery

Bailey, Roderick. Special Operations: a hidden chapter in the histories of facial surgery and human enhancement (CC BY 4.0)

EDIT: Today, 21st June, I was delighted to receive this lovely email in response to this blog post from The London Clinic where my mother received her revolutionary treatment 70 years ago. They are happy for me to share it with you – you may need to click on the image of the email to make the typeface clearer…

2021: A Year in Review – part 2

Posted on January 23, 2022 by johnshortlandwriter

Three weeks into the new year and Christmas and 2021 already seems the distant past. A new year brings new hopes and plans, not least of all a Covid-free one where holidays and meeting up with friends and family can be carried out without the fear of cancellation. The past couple of years have been challenging and difficult for many people and blogging topics sometimes reflected this as well as the importance of family. Few people can be as tough and courageous as one of my ancestral cousins nor as unfortunate for another to be remembered because of his underwear. There were trials and tribulations for the people of Chipping Norton too, the nearest town to my secret valley and, elsewhere in the Cotswolds, the building of a great country estate to provide training in endangered skills for local people. These stories are a reminder that however large the challenge or the struggle, the end result is more often, very worthwhile.

*1876: HMS Alert – with my cousin aboard – icebound as well as homeward bound*

In July I wrote about the extraordinary story of Welsh vagrant Glyndwr Michael who famously became known as ‘The Man Who Never Was’. His body was used in an elaborate hoax to fool the Germans during WW2. The ruse worked, saving many lives, partly thanks to the use of my cousin’s underwear. Sounds intriguing? Well, if you want to discover why and also how my Polish grandmother fits into the plot you will need to click on the link here to read all about it.

*False papers of Major William Martin, RM [Source: Wikipedia]*

August and September was also a tale of an ancestral cousin who in the May of 1875 set sail for the Arctic. As bizarre as it seems now, the expedition was searching for a ‘lost Eden’. for there was a popular belief that beyond the ice, at the North Pole, they would find a sub-tropical paradise. The expedition created worldwide interest and excitement and was widely reported in the newspapers. When the Royal Family began to take an interest, huge crowds descended on Portsmouth eager to see not just the Queen but ordinary members of the crew. My cousin, John Langston Saggers, a young man aged just 23, could have experienced nothing like it before as they were wined and dined and with no expense spared. To read about the preparation for the voyage and to discover the personal gift from a Royalty concerned that the men may suffer from cold ears click on the link here.

*The dinner for the Officers given by the Mayor of Portsmouth the week before departure* [Source: BNA]

When the ships became icebound, they had to sit out the Arctic winter in total darkness. That, however, did not stop the men from making the most of what they had. Aboard ship they had a full-size theatre where they produced plays and outside on the ice, despite the freezing temperatures and inadequate clothing they created a skating rink and played hockey. Their heroism – and despite (unsurprisingly) not finding a warm paradise – the men returned home to a hero’s welcome. However, the star of the expedition wasn’t human at all. To find out about Nellie and how she very nearly became a coat for an Eskimo chief’s wife click on the link here.

Mid-day, Thursday, 9th November 1876: *HMS Alert & HMS Discovery enter Portsmouth Harbour*

Next month will be the 150th anniversary of the Great Fire at Chipping Norton, one of the gateway towns of the Cotswolds. Although not as popular with tourists as some of the ‘chocolate box’ villages and towns in the region, it boasts one of the Cotswolds most iconic images – that of Bliss Tweed Mill. The mill, that has become so well-known now, rose like a phoenix out of the ashes of the earlier mill which was razed to the ground early one February morning. The story of the fire and how the mill was rebuilt to exacting standards in less than two years is told in October’s blog post. Built to resemble a great house with the most modern technology of the day, it was the pride of the town. The jubilation wasn’t to last and a strike was called which took eighteen months to break. You can read all about the mill and see through numerous photographs how it has been transformed into luxurious apartments; a haven of peace and tranquillity within the town centre by clicking on the link here.

For November, we remained in the Cotswolds to explore the creation of another outstanding property and its gardens. In 1906, Claud Biddulph commissioned the building of a house with “the feel of a cottage in the country”. In so doing, he created one of the finest Arts & Crafts house in Britain, albeit one with seventy-four rooms, so hardly a cottage! Every item used in its creation and furnishing had to be of the best quality and hand-made; one of the reasons why the house took so many years to complete and why it is so exceptional today. Part of the house was dedicated to teaching local people the dying skills required and, more than an hundred years later, craft workshops and exhibitions are still held there. Open regularly to the public so why not take a tour of the house and garden? If you can’t visit physically, you can do so digitally by clicking on this link here.

*Rodmarton Manor seen from one of the ‘garden* *rooms’*

And so we come to December, the year end and the start of this review – you can read what happened during the months of January to June by clicking the link here. I hope that your 2021 hasn’t been too troublesome – now the year is past we can look forward to this one with renewed hopes and aspirations. No doubt there will be challenges ahead but as we know from our own experiences, as well as hearing of those of our ancestors, life continues apace regardless. Sending all my readers, wherever you are in the world (and, my goodness, you’re a scattered bunch!) best wishes for 2022 and with the hope that it will be a happy and healthy one.