Prelude in Black and Green: A Novel

By Ada Nicolescu

Prelude in Black and Green is the story of a Jewish, middle class family in Bucharest, Romania, in the 1930s. It is a time of unrest and transition. Life is still enjoyable, but clouds gather at the horizon.

Trapped in this changing landscape, the STEIN family and their relatives try to cope with the events and make judicious decisions for the future. But character clashes between the members of this group and different attitudes towards their situation, as well as unexpected occurrences often interfere with the smooth completion of their plans.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Sep 4, 2009
• ISBN: 9781425189334

Ada Nicolescu

Ada Nicolescu was born in Bucharest, Romania, where she survived World War II and Stalin’s Communism. Eight years after finishing medical school in Bucharest, she emigrated to Paris, France. In October 1961, she arrived in New York. At present, she is a psychiatrist in private practice in Manhattan. She has published two other books: Prelude in Black and Green, and The Black and The Green.

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© Copyright 2009 by Ada Nicolescu.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

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and Archives Canada at www.collectionscanada.ca/amicus/index-e.html

Printed in Victoria, BC, Canada.

ISBN: 978-1-4251-8931-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4251-8933-4 (e)

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To the memory of

my Parents and my Sister, Catlia.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I want to thank my mentors and guides, CAROL EMSHWILLER and MARTHA HUGHES, whose help was essential for the completion of this book. I was also blessed with the intelligent, warm and patient support of my fellow writers and friends, GABRIELA CONTESTABILE, BARBARA FLECK-PALADINO, IRENE GLASSGOLD, FLORENCE HOMOLKA, MARGARET SWEENEY, MARIA TAMICK and GAY TERRY. And I am grateful to the loving encouragement of my husband, LAWRENCE L. LE SHAN.

INTRODUCTION

This book is a novel about a Jewish family in Bucharest, Romania, in the 1930s.

It is a time of unrest and transition. Life is still enjoyable, but clouds are gathering at the horizon.

This is a work of fiction, inspired by historical events. All characters are imaginary, and any resemblance with real people is coincidental.

Contents

THE LIST OF CHARACTERS

PART I

PREPARATIONS—BUCHAREST 1936

THE UNCLE

DR. VICTOR GEORGESCU

THE OLD SYNAGOGUE

FROM THE PRIVATE DIARY OF DR. MILO

SILVIA

AT THE BLACK SEA

THE BIRTHDAY PARTY

NADIA DREAMS…

THE GOLDEN ORCHID

THE BLUE CAVE AND THE OLD CEMETERY

IN SKENDER’S BOAT

PART II

HOTEL BAUR AU LAC, ZÜRICH

WAGNER AT THE BAUR AU LAC

THE KING AND THE SWANS

MEMORIES, MEMORIES…

SEARCHING FOR THE VILLA

THE VILLA

DRAMA AT BREAKFAST

PART III

DR. MILO’S BIRTHDAY

CERNĂUŢI: THE DEMONSTRATION

WINTER 1937

THE VISITOR

PHOTO RIVIERA

A NEW FRIEND

THE EARACHE

BUTTERFLIES

THE MEMORANDUM

SCHOOL TIME

THE TEA PARTY

MORE PAIN

THE DECREE

NADIA

FOUR WEEKS LATER

ON A BEAUTIFUL MORNING IN MARCH

THE LIST OF CHARACTERS

The Stein Family

Nina’s Relatives (all maternal)

Others

PART I

PREPARATIONS—BUCHAREST 1936

In his office on the quiet street, Adrian stands near the window and waits for the secretary to bring him the letters to sign. One is for General Electric in the U.S. regarding an order for household appliances he has made for his neighbor, Doctor Ionescu, and the other is addressed to the Barclay Bank in London.

While he is waiting for the secretary, Adrian is examining the large frosted glass pane of the window, engraved with the image of a tall devil—a naked and hairy creature endowed with horns, hooves and a bushy tail, who is covering, with his large hands, the chimneys of two factories. The smoke, which cannot escape through the chimneys, is now billowing out of the buildings through broken windows and narrow doors, through which a frantic crowd of workers also streams out on the street. The devil is taller than the tallest chimney and he grins with delight as he watches the tiny creatures scramble on the ground. His bushy tail whips up the smoke like a whirlwind, choking the workers below.

Adrian had this scene copied from a drawing which had appeared in a German satyrical publication a few years ago and was entitled, The Ugly Face of Industrialization. He had liked the cartoon because he found much truth in it. An artist friend, who had studied glass engraving at the Bauhaus in Germany, had enlarged it and engraved it perfectly onto the frosted window pane.

As an electrical engineer in charge of the construction of the first electrical plant in the heart of the Carpathian mountains (and also as a representative of several important foreign electrical companies), he had no doubts about the superiority of the clean, electrical energy over the toxic, dirty and polluting use of charcoal.

As he stands by the window, his secretary, Domnişoara Braunstein, enters the room and hands him the two letters to sign, adding that the letter for Baden near Zürich in Switzerland has already left.

Would that be all for today? she asks, looking at him with her clear blue eyes. She holds the letters in one hand and arranges her bun with the other. Even though her hair is always tidy and neat, she is always worried about her bun. I understand there is no English lesson today?

No, not today. Nina, my wife, expects you tomorrow. Today is the family party for her uncle who is arriving from London. She hasn’t seen him since 1924, when he came to Bucharest for his father’s funeral. And I have never met him, since this happened before our wedding. Now he has announced his arrival with a telegram addressed to Nina, and she has decided to celebrate this visit with a family party to which she has invited all her siblings and their spouses. I must be off to get special treats for this occasion. Is the car waiting outside?

Before he steps out, the secretary hands him a new letter from Switzerland which has just arrived in the mail. He puts it in his briefcase and takes his leave. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget: the English lesson of today has been postponed for tomorrow at 5.

I know, the secretary nods. We’re still doing Mrs. Dalloway. Your wife is making good progress. As she goes back to her desk, Adrian watches her walking away in her flat, manly shoes and her gray skirt with deep pockets in which she carries all kinds of office knickknacks—pencils, pens, erasers, pencil sharpeners, even letters and envelopes. She is a practical person. Everything is practical about her—her hair gathered in a bun at the back of her neck, the lack of jewelry, even the absence of makeup. She would look plain and mousey if it weren’t for her intelligent, luminous eyes. Adrian shakes his head and thinks that it is a shame that Domnişoara Braunstein must work as a secretary and cannot use her real skills. She is well overqualified for this job! Her doctoral thesis on Mark Twain which was partly published in a prestigious literary magazine should grant her a teaching position at the University. But Domnişoara Braunstein, who is Jewish like himself and lives alone with her old and sick mother, cannot teach at the University because of the anti-Semitic laws of the country. Fortunately, Adrian can pay her a good salary and augment it with the English lessons she gives to his wife, Nina.

The car is here! says the secretary, poking her head through the open door. I’m coming! Adrian walks toward the vestibule and catches a glimpse of himself in the tall mirror which hangs in the entrance hall. He is surprised how much he resembles his Uncle Bernard, his father’s brother, now that he has shaved his moustache, as Nina had asked him to do. He has the same long, bony face, tall forehead and big teeth as his uncle. He has deep set dark eyes, sallow skin and thinning hair. Even though he is of medium height, his long legs and erect posture make him look tall and athletic.

As a child, his brothers and sisters called him The Horse, because of his long face and big teeth. Later, when he developed a taste for American cigarettes and American cars, and particularly since he started doing business with American firms, he was nicknamed The American.

In the summer, he always wears comfortable but elegant clothes—silk jersey shirts with short sleeves and open collars, light shantung suits and a panama hat.

He now says goodbye to Domnişoara Braunstein, takes his briefcase in one hand and his hat in the other, and walks out the door.

It is warm and sunny outside, the beginning of June. Women are wearing light, summer dresses and men have abandoned their jackets and ties. A glimmer of summer vacation is in the air.

Adrian takes a few steps and sees the car parked under an old linden tree. The engine must have been running, for the air near the car is reeking of fuel. Nevertheless, Adrian can still smell the fragrance of the linden blossoms. Yes, he thinks, if we could only keep the world unspoiled by the new, developing industries!

He has now reached the Dodge, and Fritz, the blond chauffeur greets him bowing lightly and touching his gold trimmed cap with his index finger.

Quickly, to Leonida’s! says Adrian, as he climbs in the car and sits on the velvet covered banquette. We need to buy gourmet treats for the party tonight! The car starts with a jolt, but Fritz stops soon in front of a gas station. While he is waiting, Adrian keeps meditating about the pitfalls of technical developments.

He agrees with the artists and writers who are warning the world about the dangers of growing pollution and industrialization! Adrian loves the trees, the forests, and the waterfalls, and doesn’t want to harm them. But is this possible? He remembers that the Swiss have done it. They have built electrical plants in the heart of their mountains, hidden behind the trees. You can take a cable car or an electric train to the peak of the Mönch or the Jungfrau, and never dream that an industrial plant is hiding in the thick of the forest!

Switzerland! How much he had liked studying and working there, in Baden, near Zürich! And he would have kept on staying and working there much longer, if his aging mother hadn’t written and asked him to come home immediately and get married! "This is your country. Here is your family! What are you doing so far away from us all? I am growing older and sicker… Come home and get married before I die!" she had pleaded.

He couldn’t say no. She was sick. She had developed severe Parkinson’s disease and could barely eat, his brother Tobias had written. Adrian bought a ticket, boarded the first train, and came home. Then he got married, as she had asked him. What else could he do? But maybe… maybe he shouldn’t have listened, he sometimes wonders.

When they finish at the gas pump, Fritz starts the car again. They leave the quiet streets behind and turn into a noisy boulevard jammed with rattling trams, honking buses, cars and horse-drawn carriages. They pass a wagon filled with watermelons, with a gypsy family asleep on the mound of fruit. They pass a shiny black carriage decorated with ribbons and red carnations, and a milkman riding his two-wheel buggy drawn by a rickety donkey.

Everything is covered with dust: a white layer of powder has settled on the street and on the trees. A big truck hurtles past them, whipping up a cloud of dust which chokes them and makes them cough.

They follow the Brătianu Boulevard, rolling by the elegant movie houses, ARO and SCALA, and past the new hotels AMBASSADOR and LIDO, with its flashy ice cream terrace from which one could watch the marble swimming pool with its artificial waves.

On the roof of the newly built high-rises, the neon signs in blue, red and orange glitter even in daytime, advertising luxury products and companies: Fernet Branca, Du bon… Du bon… Dubonnet, Crema Nivea, Vagons Lits Cook, Galleries Lafayette, Astra Română. And on the sidewalks, young women with their little hats, high heels and silk summer dresses and men with panama hats mingle with the vendors of rahat lokum, of mititei, and porumb copt (grilled corn on the cob), who advertise their wares at the top of their voices. There are also blind fiddlers and organ grinders, many with noses eaten by syphilis or pellagra. Mutilated World War I veterans with decorations pinned to their tattered uniforms crawl in the dust and beg.

When the car finally stops in front of Leonida’s and Adrian steps on the curb, he is immediately surrounded by gypsy women selling flowers. They stand barefoot, with long, flowery skirts and wearing shiny necklaces made of gold coins. Their arms are full of baskets of flowers.

"Garoafe! Garoafe!" yells one woman, one arm filled with red and white carnations, the other holding a crying baby.

"Gladiole! Gladiole! Să-ţi traiască Franţuzoaica!" (Long live your French sweetheart!), yells another, trying to hand him a long stem with yellow blossoms.

"Lalele! Lalele! Hai la lalele!" cries an old gypsy woman, her parched face furrowed with wrinkles, offering him a fat bouquet of tulips.

They are forming a closed circle around him, their almost naked children pulling at his arms, his sleeves and his briefcase. Adrian struggles to free himself from their hold. As soon as he steps out of the circle, they run after him and the toddlers wind their brown arms around his legs. When he finally walks into the store, he has to stop to catch his breath and smooth his shirt and pants.

Leonida is a large hall with a high, vaulted ceiling and walls covered with tiles. A young sales boy with rolled up pants scoops water out of a bucket splashing it on the floor, trying to make the place feel cool, but getting the cement floor slippery. Other salespeople in white aprons rush back and forth between large barrels filled with black olives, pickles and sauerkraut, and the counters and shelves loaded with mountains of fish of all size and colors, mounds of goose pastrami, smoked ham and bacon and garlands of long sausages. Crowds of shoppers stream into the store and gather in front of the counters, pushing and shoving each other.

Adrian stops by the door trying to get used to the sound of the many voices and to the mixed smells of smoked sausages, salty fish, sharp cheeses and garlic. Then he walks to the back of the store and stops in front of a counter where a stocky woman with short cropped hair and knotted eyebrows is arranging chunks of halvah on shiny copper trays.

Welcome, she says as she steps forward. What can I do for my favorite customer! She is cross-eyed, her right eye always wandering toward a hidden, mysterious destination.

Hello, Sofica! It’s good to see you again! says Adrian. I need a whole variety of gourmet treats for a family party of about 15. He hands her a bill of 100 lei and pulls out of his pocket a piece of paper folded in two. "I need black and red caviar, batog, olives, smoked sturgeon, pickled cucumbers, hard Romanian salami, goose pastrami, paté de foie gras… and so on and so forth. It’s all written on this paper!" he says as he hands her the list.

Sofica takes the paper, steps into the middle of the store and claps her hands. In a minute, a young man with a long apron, his face covered with pimples, and his hair, shiny with brilliantine, comes running and takes the list from her. In about 15 minutes, all the delicacies Adrian had ordered are wrapped in wax paper and neatly packed in two cardboard boxes.

Adrian takes hold of the lighter box, while Fritz carries the bigger box. The young man follows them with a case of old wine of Cotnari.

Back in the street, they open the car’s luggage compartment and place the boxes inside. Sofica has offered them a chunk of ice for the fish and the caviar, but Adrian refuses, saying that it is a short ride and they’re going to be home in no time at all. Besides, he knows that Fritz doesn’t want to have his luggage compartment flooded with melting ice!

All right? Ready? Let’s go! commands Adrian when they’re seated inside the car. He is watching the group of gypsy women, who are now pestering a distinguished looking old man with a cane. He is bending down… He is actually buying a large bouquet of carnations from the woman with the crying baby!

The car starts slowly, turns around, and follows the boulevard in the opposite direction. Soon they turn left and follow another tree-lined boulevard toward the residential part of the city. The streets are just as noisy and crowded, and the white blanket of dust seems even thicker than further downtown.

It hasn’t rained in a long time. There isn’t a cloud in the sky, says Fritz. I’m afraid we’re in for a drought!

Yes, I’m afraid so! Adrian scans the glazed sky in search of a cloud, but there is none.

The car swerves and stops abruptly. Adrian starts and becomes aware of the noise which comes from outside. There are drums beating, people chanting, pots and pans being slammed against each other… The paparude! The rainmakers! Adrian looks out the window and sees, right there, in the middle of the road, in front of the car, a group of paparude singing and dancing to gather the clouds and make the rain pour down. They are five—two boys and three girls, all very young, barefoot, wearing nothing but skirts made of palm leaves, garlands of willow branches and wreaths woven of leafy twigs in their hair. One boy holds the pots and pans which he slams rhythmically against each other. The second carries a tin watering can from which he pours water on the others, simulating rain, while the three girls, holding long grasses in their hands, dance and chant, "Udă, udă, paparudā!" (Wet, wet, rainmaker). They raise their eyes and arms toward the sky, imploring it to send rain over the plains and the forests…

Fritz makes the sign of the cross and so do other people in the street. Whatever God they’re praying to (Greek Orthodox, Catholic, Protestant, Jewish or even Muslim), let Him hear their prayers and send plenty of rain very soon, thinks Adrian. For the drought is a real danger. It can become a serious calamity for his work. It can affect the water level, just now when measurements have to be taken at the electric plant. And in that case, it can interrupt or slow down the whole operation, God knows for how long! And if the drought is so severe as to leave the villagers at the foot of the mountains without water, they could become very angry and take it out on the new installations! Their water had already been slightly reduced since the dam had been built. And if things would get worse, they could climb the mountains armed with pitchforks and clubs and destroy whatever stands in their way!

They could even fall prey to the agitation of the Iron Guard, the Romanian Fascist organization that preaches that all modern industrialization is nothing but a foreign, Jewish invention to exploit the Romanian peasants.

We want to live like our ancestors! We want to respect their traditions. We don’t want any changes! the Iron Guard leaders proclaim. Yes, things can really get messy if there is a prolonged drought!

The boy with the watering can pours the last drops over the hood, making Fritz smile. I hope this is a good sign for us! he says.

He starts the car, drives a few blocks further, and soon turns into the narrow street with many gardens, where Adrian lives. They stop in front of a wrought iron gate and climb out of the car.

Across the street, opposite the house, stands an elderly man, smoking a pipe. It is Dr. Ionescu, a retired physician. He is shaking ashes into a bed of roses, inside his garden and when he sees them, he waves and rushes across the street. Adrian frowns, wishing to get out of his way.

A new princely carriage you’ve got there! Bigger than the old one! he says, walking around the car and inspecting it from all sides. Not bad, not bad. Business doing well, I guess?

He stops face to face with Adrian and lights his pipe. His moustache, his teeth, the tips of his fingers and even his lips are yellow from smoking. He draws on his pipe, and then goes on.

Say, when will I get my new American fridge and gas stove? Tell them to hurry. With this heat and the lack of rain, soon there won’t be any ice left for the ice box and we’ll die of heat before the shipment arrives! He is poking his finger at Adrian’s face and flashing his yellow teeth, laughing at his own joke.

Soon, soon, says Adrian. I’ve written again to General Electric in America, urging them to hurry up with the delivery. Your new appliances should be here any time soon.

Adrian is very serious. He takes business matters very seriously.

No need to worry, he adds. Then he turns toward Fritz, telling him to take the packages upstairs, or to call Ilona, the cook on the intercom and ask her to come down and help him with the parcels and boxes. But Dr. Ionescu posts himself at the gate and continues his monologue, as if nothing else is going on.

Your fruit trees are beautiful, he says as he looks up a tree. They’re doing better with you than with me. The pear tree here by the entrance and the apricot tree by the stone bench have more flowers this spring and are more lush now, than were ours. What are you doing with them? Magic? The doctor is squinting behind his bone-rimmed glasses and is pulling at his moustache.

Adrian shrugs. No magic at all. These are just wonderful trees. We give them plenty of water and prune them when needed. But please excuse me now, I must be going. He nods, turns around, and walks into the garden. It seems to him that Dr. Ionescu is always complaining, always competing and comparing Adrian’s house and garden, as well as possessions with his own. Does the doctor still resent the fact that two years ago Adrian bought a piece of land from him that he had been forced to sell?

This stretch of land had once been part of the beautiful orchard owned by his family. But they have lost their fortune, partly due to poor estate management, but mainly due to heavy gambling at the Casino in Monte Carlo. This had forced the doctor to sell a large chunk of their last property in Bucharest, many acres of lush orchard which occupies more than six city blocks.

Adrian had paid the whole sum of money in shiny gold coins, packed in a heavy coffer, so that the doctor could settle the family debts. But he still feels that his neighbor resents the deal and considers that the land still belongs to him. He looks at Adrian as an unwelcome intruder.

When Dr. Ionescu and his wife decided to install new utilities in their home, they asked to see Adrian’s own American made appliances. He invited them to the house and showed them his modern gas stove, refrigerator and heating furnace, all made by General Electric. As a representative of GE in Romania, Adrian often used his home as a showroom. They went down to the basement to look at the new furnace, and when they came upstairs, Nina surprised them with homemade apricot preserve from the garden and Turkish coffee, which was served on the terrace.

The trees, our beautiful trees! They’re doing so well now in our orchard! the doctor’s wife said, staring with eyes full of tears into the garden.

Adrian feels angry when he remembers this scene. He tells himself that it isn’t worth being so solicitous with these neighbors: they’ll never really appreciate his efforts! But now it’s too late: the order for their appliances has been sent out whether he likes it or not.

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Adrian walks through the garden toward the stairs which lead up to the wraparound terrace. He picks up the pruning scissors from a garden bench, and cuts a large bouquet of lilies and peonies from the bushes which surround the swimming pool. He will bring them to Nina, as a centerpiece for the dinner table tonight. As he approaches the stairs, he can already hear the clatter of plates being set up on the terrace and in the dining room.

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Nina stands in the middle of the room holding a telegram in her right hand. She gives a last glance to the telegram before folding it and slipping it in her pocket. Arriving June 15th, Orient Express. Keep confidential—Only family. Uncle Ariel.

The telegram announces the arrival of her mother’s oldest brother. He lives far away, in London, with his wife and 13 children. Nina barely knows him. He left the country in 1885, long before she was born. But his father, her own grandfather, and his brothers and sisters, her uncles and aunts, often speak of him. Her mother has told her many stories about him.

Uncle Ariel is now Chief Rabbi of the Spanish Community of London, even though he himself, like the whole family, are Ashkenazim. Nina has trouble understanding the situation, but she tells herself that she doesn’t have the facts to understand the circumstances.

She has seen the Uncle only on two occasions: once, in 1921, when she was 22 years old. He had been invited by the King to receive two gold medals. It was a belated reward, a late recognition of his work on Romanian Popular Literature and Folklore, which he had published in Leipzig thirty years earlier.

He came again in 1926, for a short visit, to see his 94-year-old dying father. And on that occasion, King Ferdinand gave him another gold medal and made him an Honorary Member of the Romanian Academy. Every time, as soon as he arrived, he was whisked away by some important literary or political personality. At every visit, Nina only managed to see him from a distance. Even when he came to see his father, he paid no attention to her: he placed a fleeting kiss on her forehead, while continuing his conversation with his brother Max. This is the first and only time that he has addressed a telegram to her and only to her. Is this to be a personal family visit? Is it a response to her sending him a package of Romanian stamps that she had learned he wanted? Yes, of course, this is the only reason, her sister Stella said.

But now Nina is all nervous about his visit. She has so many questions in her mind: What kind of food does he eat? Is he kosher? Does he eat regular food? Nobody in her family in Bucharest eats kosher food now. But how about her grandparents’ house, before the war? Nobody remembers. And how about Uncle Ariel today, as the great leader of the Jewish Community in England: has this elevated title made him revert to kosher food?

Since she hasn’t been able to find the proper answer, Nina decides to prepare two kinds of food: a kosher meal of chicken soup with matzo balls, followed by gefilte fish with boiled potatoes, beets and horseradish, and a dessert of kiegel and baked apples with honey and cinnamon. All this will be served in the dining room, in the Passover dishes and glasses. And out on the terrace, there will be a buffet of non-kosher cold cuts with caviar and other gourmet treats which Adrian is bringing from Leonida’s. The non-kosher food is going to be served outside, in the open air, so nobody should feel guilty of having sinned at the table!

Nina catches her reflection in the terrace door, and brushes a silver-gray lock of hair out of her face. Even though she is only 35, a strand of hair has turned gray after the birth of her second child. It had been a long and difficult labor, with wrenching pains, and times when she almost lost consciousness—a delivery which arrived three weeks earlier than expected, surprising her in the middle of spring cleaning. A short time after the child was born, she had noticed that a strand of her hair had turned gray and she now suffers from migraine attacks.

But this is not the time to brood about her gray hair! She tightens the belt of her house dress and adjusts her wire-rimmed spectacles. She is grateful to Adrian who, on their honeymoon, bought her a gold-rimmed pair of glasses as soon as she told him that she was nearsighted. For her parents and her sister wouldn’t allow her to wear glasses before she got married, saying it made