Growing up in NY during the depression, WWII and post Holocaust

My Grandma Florence had stories to tell. One of things I was most looking forward to about staying with her was the down time. One morning while James was taking a nap and E was showering, I asked my Grandma about her childhood. I'd heard a few stories before, but nothing like this. If you want to skim, and not read the entire thing, make sure to look at the italicized portions, they are unreal.

My Grandma's mother, my great grandma, was named Pauline. In 1914 she left what is now Austria (it was then the Austrian/Hungarian Empire) and emigrated to the United States. She was 17 and all alone, her family staying behind in Austria. Once she was in New York City she met up with an Aunt and lived in poverty with her aunt and cousins. Pauline's aunt worked Pauline hard, almost like a servant. Pauline decided she needed a job, and quickly. She worked at a hardware store and starting making a little money of her own.

That same year she went to a park near where she worked and lived and met a man that was also new to the country, Morris Riemer. Morris was also from the Austrian/Hungarian Empire, but do to the fact that he lived on the Hungarian side, Pauline and Morris's only shared language was Yiddish.

They fell deeply in love and married two years later. Pauline and Morris moved into a small tenement home on the lower east side of Manhattan. Soon Pauline was pregnant and gave birth to their first child Sylvia on November 1st 1916. The day Sylvia was born there was a horrible blizzard (rare for NYC) but they were able to find a midwife that lived in the building.

Morris and Pauline's engagement photo still hangs on my Grandma's wall. I love this.
Then in the June of 1918, their second daughter was born, Florence (my Grandma). She was also born at home for $2.00. That is all the doctor charged back then.

Soon the family of four left their lower east side tenement and went to Coney Island for two short years. They added to their family again, with their first son Irving.

Soon the family outgrew there house once again and moved to Brooklyn. This time they purchased a home (they had two floors and the basement inside a building) with a "stall shower." My Grandma said this was so exciting for everyone, because only the nicest homes had separate showers. The home consisted of only two bedrooms and one bathroom, but lots of living space including a parlor.

Pauline with her first three children: Sylvia (the eldest), Florence (my grandma) and Irving, their only boy.
Morris always worked as a furrier, and growing up my Grandma remembers always having new fur coats. Because she and her sister were only 18 months apart my Grandma said "we looked like twins in our new fur coats."

In the summer all the children would play on the streets. Four corners, kick the can, softball "from sewer to sewer" and tennis were favorites. Morris and Pauline added to their family again with Selma and a few years later with their last daughter Eleanor.

The fur business was hot back then, and my Grandma remembers living quite comfortably, even through the depression. They had a car, a Studebaker touring car which they all would ride in joyfully through Brooklyn.

Morris and Pauline saved some money and when they got the news from Europe that Pauline's parents had passed away they paid to have all four of Pauline's siblings brought over from Poland. The cost was $25 a head, and each of them rode in steerage. Because they were Jews, they needed a sponsor to get into the United States. Morris and Pauline happily sponsored all of them. The youngest of them wasn't much older than my Grandma, and she has such found memories of the house full of people.

Again Morris and Pauline got world from the old world that a family member had passed away. This time it was Morris's sister. Her story is horrific.

She was a mother of two young children. When the town she lived in got word that the Cossacks were coming (a horrifying army of Russian soldiers who were know to rape and pillage) she decided to run, since she was quite beautiful and young. She left her two small sons with her parents and tried to jump on a train before the Cossacks arrived. She fell and lost both her legs, and her life under the train.

Morris needed to help these two boys, who were now young men. They were his nephews, the eldest actually being named after him. In 1940 Morris was able to bring the first of his nephews to the United States. The second they didn't hear from for five more years...

In 1945, as soon as WWII was over, Morris got a telegram from a man claiming to be the second nephew, saying that he survived the war and was in a refuge camp in Germany.

My Grandma, now an adult and married to (my Grandfather) Bert was able to help. Bert was stationed in Northern Africa during WWII. He was in one of the troops that invaded Italy and as soon as the war had ended, Bert was still stationed in Italy.

Although this story isn't about Bert's life, he also had stories to tell. He came to the United States when he was only three, and remembers going through Ellis Island. This photo, taken in Germany when Bert was two years old, shows him with his mother Gusta (remember her?) and sister Antoinette.
Morris asked Bert to investigate this man's claim. Bert and another solider decided to take a Red Cross vehicle up to the refuge camp where Morris's nephew was claiming to be. Bert was able to verify that this was indeed his family, and soon Morris and Pauline sent for him to join the very busy household in Brooklyn.

The stories go on and on. If you aren't tired of reading this monster post by now, I'll continue:

One day on the street Morris heard from a friend that there was an ad in the paper from a refuge camp in England. A girl, Sylvia Abish, of only ten years old, who lost a leg in a German bomb, was looking for her family. All she knew was his name was Morris Reamer, he lived in the United States and was a furrier.

It was pure luck that Morris found her as well, and brought her to the United States to live in Brooklyn. By now Pauline and Morris had sponsored over a half a dozen Jews from Europe to join them in the United States.

Another family member that has a horrific story was a cousin of Morris's. He was a well-to-do man with a huge floor mill fortune living in The Czech Republic. This man married the maid, which was a huge faux pax back then, since he was coming from a wealthy family. He and his new wife were disowned from the family and moved to the United States. Here they had a daughter (also named Florence).

They were able to reconcile with the family in The Czech Republic and moved back there when their daughter was young. Back home they had a son and lived happily for a few years. All too quickly the war started, and they were Jews, so news was bad. They were captured and taken by train, like most Jews, to a concentration camp. When the train slowed Florence and her family jumped off and tried to run, to escape the horrors that was sure to meet them ahead. Her family (father, mother and younger brother) were all shot and killed. Nobody knew if Florence was spared because she was a US citizen or if she somehow escaped.

Florence was taken to a convent for the rest of the war. Later in life she spoke of searching dead soldiers for food and money with the other nuns. After the war Morris and Pauline sponsored Florence to also join them in the United states. Like everyone else before her, she joined the Reamer family in the house in Brooklyn.

At the end of Morris's life, he had sponsored over 20 European Jews to join him in the United States. What an inspiring story.

Unfortunately, I didn't ever get to meet my Great Grandfather Morris Riemer, he was gone before I was born. But I did know Pauline. She died at the ripe old age of 102 when I was a high school senior.

What an amazing life she had, and what a huge influence on so many others lives.