Charlotte Gellar Brown

Larsen: I am with Charlotte (Lotte) Brown in her kitchen and we are talking about her life and doing an oral history. Tell me your birthdate first.
BROWN: My birth name was Charlotte Gellar, but everyone called me Lotte. Some people still call me Lotte. I was born April 2, 1924 in Lackenbach, Austria.

Larsen: Tell me about the area of Austria.
BROWN: It is near the Austria-Hungarian [border] and before World War I it belonged to Hungary. That part of Austria.

Larsen: How did your family get to Lackenbach? Where did they come from?
BROWN: I don’t know. My mother’s side of the family were Austrian. My father was from Poland. How he got to Austria, I don’t know.

Larsen: Tell me about your parents. 
BROWN: My father’s name was David Gellar and he was a merchant. My mother was a homemaker. I had one brother and one sister, younger than me. 

Larsen: Your brother and sister, what were their names?
BROWN: My brother’s name was Gottfried; we called him Freddie. My sister’s name was Hella. 

Larsen: And your mother’s name? And her maiden name?
BROWN: Else. Else Lederer.

Larsen: You all lived in one house?
BROWN: Yes, with my grandparents. My grandparents, on my mother’s side, lived downstairs and we lived upstairs. 

Larsen: Do you remember their names?
BROWN: My grandfather’s name was Alex, Alexander – Alex is short. I don’t remember my grandmother’s name.  

Larsen: What was Alex’s profession?
BROWN: He was a shochet. A shochet is the one who kills the chickens in the Jewish way. That was his profession. 

Larsen: Who would he work for?
BROWN: I don’t know. I guess whoever slaughtered the animals. 

Larsen: Your father was a merchant? What kind of work did he do?
BROWN: Mostly with produce. 

Larsen: Did he travel to get the produce?
BROWN: Not all of it but a lot of it came from Hungary, because it was warmer there and things grew a lot better. Especially, I remember watermelons. They grew very well there because you need a lot of heat for that. 

Larsen: How far was Hungary?
BROWN: Hungary was not far, maybe an hour and a half. That was in the horse and buggy days.

Larsen: What are your memories of your mom? [Question added when edited]
BROWN: My mom, I remember, she wore a shaytl. That I remember. I guess they all spoiled me. I was the first child and the oldest, and I remember I never did a thing. My mother, my grandmother, and my mother’s sister – they didn’t need me. They didn’t go to work, the women, in those days. They cooked and they baked and they cleaned house. I think I had good parents.

Larsen: Memories of your sister and brother? [Question added when edited]
BROWN: See that picture on the top there? [Shows photograph] That’s all I have; that’s my brother in the square. I found that amongst other pictures. I don’t know how. That’s the only thing I have. How old could he be? Maybe ten.

Larsen: Can you describe the neighborhood you lived in?
BROWN: It was a very small town and I know we went to a Jewish school. It was so small; I guess we knew everyone in that town, Jewish or non-Jewish. I remember those were the days when you went with a pail to the people who had a farm with cows and got your milk. That I remember. 

Larsen: The house that you lived in?
BROWN: The house, I remember, was like… downstairs lived my grandparents. You had to go out of the house to go upstairs one flight to our house.

Larsen: Were there other relatives who lived in the neighborhood?
BROWN: My mother had a brother [Emil] who lived in Vienna and my mother’s sister, my aunt, she lived there with us until she got married. Her name was Carmela. Later on when she got married, she moved out, but in the same town.

Larsen: You mentioned a Jewish school. What was your Jewish life like? 
BROWN: Everyone was religious. Everyone kept kosher, and Saturday was no school. You just stayed home, I guess. Every holiday was kept just so. Everything. My grandparents were very religious. 

Larsen: What was Shabbat like?
BROWN: Everybody was very busy on Friday night or Friday afternoon to get everything ready for Shabbat. Of course, there were no electric lights in those days, but I somehow remember the non-Jewish used to come in and turn on the stove or whatever you needed if you wanted to heat up something for Saturday food. And everyone went to temple. We must have had a temple. I don’t exactly remember it, but I am sure there was something. 

Larsen: Was all your education at the Jewish school? 
BROWN: All, yes, because I was very young when Hitler came in and that finished my schooling.

Larsen: Did your brother and sister go to the same school?
BROWN: Yeah, they all went to the same school. I think it must have been a one-room school. I don’t remember, but I feel that way.

Larsen: Do you have other memories of the town? 
BROWN: I don’t have too much memory of the town, really. I remember certain things, but it was like they never existed somehow. I don’t know why, but that’s how I feel.

Larsen: You said you stopped your schooling when Hitler came.
BROWN: When Hitler came in, there was no more Jewish school. That was the end of that. Then maybe it was a year – maybe it was not even a year – when Hitler decided all the Jews had to go to the big cities so he can have them all together. That’s when we had to evacuate and go to Vienna. 

Larsen: So, that was 1938 when Hitler came?
BROWN: When he marched into Austria that was l938, yes.

Larsen: Do you remember the circumstance of leaving Lackenbach? 
BROWN: Well, I guess we just had to pick up. We had to leave the house and everything the way it was, and we moved to relatives in Vienna. 

Larsen: What do you remember about that?
BROWN: I think we moved in with my aunt, who was my father’s sister [Bertha]. Not all of us, because they were five of us. Some, I think, moved in with Emile, my mother’s brother, because there were my grandparents, too. Every Jew had to get out of Lackenbach. 

Larsen: What do you remember about Emil and Bertha?
BROWN: Emil – he was a watchmaker, which he learned in Vienna, and he was very well established. Married, at the time already, to Margit. Bertha was my father’s sister and she had an apartment in Vienna. That’s where I first saw a flush toilet! I remember, because I feel pretty sure we had an outhouse in Lackenbach. 

Larsen: How long were you in Vienna?
BROWN: Well, I think I left Vienna in August of ’38. I think we only came that spring [of 1938] to Vienna.  

Larsen: Looking at that period of time – I know when we talked before, you talked about the antisemitism. 
BROWN: There was always antisemitism. Long before Hitler came, there was antisemitism all over Europe. Everywhere. 

Larsen: How did you know about it?
BROWN: I guess I heard them talking about it, because kids were not so interested in things those days. But that we did know. I think a lot of Jews wanted to get out of Poland. I think that’s how my father got to Austria, because he wanted to get away from the antisemitism. 

Larsen: Would you say that you grew up feeling antisemitism?
BRONW: Well, no, because when we were kids, we didn’t feel it so much in a small town. But everyone sort of knew it was there.

Larsen: So in Vienna, what did you do? 
BROWN: Nothing. I don’t remember doing anything. I don’t remember my parents doing anything. Whether they did or not, I don’t know, but I don’t remember anything. I don’t know how they made a living or what happened. 

Larsen: Do you remember the Nazi occupation there?
BROWN: I remember the Nazi occupation. I remember the marches. That I do remember. They were marching through the street night and day. They were starting to round up Jews already. I mean, in some of the countries they did before they came into Austria. They took as many Jews away as they could. That’s why my parents tried to send out the children. The other children were much younger than me. I don’t know how much younger. They tried to send away the older ones first. I was the oldest.

Larsen: You are talking about the Kindertransport?
BROWN: Right.

Larsen: What do you remember about the planning and how that decision was made?
BROWN: I don’t remember much about the planning. I remember that everyone had to register. Then they started taking as many children as possible. I guess when it was my turn, that’s when I left. That was in August of l938. 

Larsen: What were you told?
BROWN: We were told that we were going away to save our life, and that parents and relatives would follow. But it wasn’t meant to be, because what child wants to leave their parents? What child wants to run away? There were so many children, you can’t imagine, from all over.

Larsen: Do you remember what you could take with you?
BROWN: You couldn’t take too much. I remember that. We all could take a little bit of luggage, because they didn’t know where to put anything. Then we went, I think, from Austria… Austria had no port. We went to Germany, then to Holland or Belgium, I think. From there we took a ship to England. I remember we had to go on the train. I know we came from Belgium to England. That I do remember. On the boat.

Larsen: What was it like at the train station [in Vienna]?
BROWN: It was very heartbreaking. It was very heartbreaking when we went to the station. The parents put their children into the trains and I guess, in a way, they knew we wouldn’t see them again. With kids, you figure something will happen. 

Larsen: What were the ages [of the children]?
BROWN: All kind of ages – younger, older. I know a lot of the children were from Germany, but where we picked them up, I don’t remember. We all came together somehow. 

Larsen: What do you remember about the trip?
BROWN: I don’t remember too much on the trip. I know there was no room. There were so many of us, you can’t imagine. I think overnight we went on the ship to England. There we were picked up with big buses or whatever they had. They had nowhere to put us up, so they had ready tents in fields and that’s where we went. We all had to stay in tents until they found where to put us.

Larsen: Do you have a sense of how long you were there?
BROWN: Until the weather got very bad. I mean, it was a challenge to place so many children! There were hundreds and hundreds of us, maybe thousands. In England it rains a lot, and we came in August, so maybe a couple of months they had to find [where to put us]. Exactly where we went from that tent camp, I don’t know. Isn’t that strange? But I know they put us wherever they could find a roof over our heads. That’s how it was. 

Larsen: How many times did you move?
BROWN: Oh, we moved a lot. I remember, it must have been the following summer; we were in Oxford and Cambridge when there were no students there. We occupied the dormitories, because that’s the only place where they could find something for us. 

Larsen: What did you do during that time?
BROWN: There we went fruit picking. That was the time they put us to work picking fruits and hops and things like that. We didn’t see the money. The money, I guess, was for our upkeep or whatever. 

Larsen: And you mentioned hops…?
BROWN: Hops grow overhead and you take a big bin standing and you have to pull down the hops and pick them off the vines. When it rains, it burns. You can’t imagine. Nobody had gloves. I guess they weren’t invented. Oh, it was terrible! The fruit picking was awful and the hops picking was also awful. They came for us in the morning and brought us to the fields, and then they came and picked us up in the afternoon whenever. 

Larsen: You were in the tents and then in dorms and then in different places. Hostels?
BROWN: Yes, youth hostels. Wherever they could find places to put 15, 20 [children], whatever. Really, they didn’t know what to do with us. 

Larsen: How did that feel?
BROWN: It didn’t feel very good, but what choice did we have? You had to go someplace. 

Larsen: Were you with the same group of people?
BROWN: No, not always. Sometimes yes, sometimes no.

Larsen: What about food?
BROWN: Food. They gave us food, if you could call it that. Really, I don’t think they had enough food, because I remember everybody wanted to work in the kitchen. We figured we would get more food. We washed the dishes and scraped out the pots and pans and things.

Larsen: Did you work in the kitchen?
BROWN: I think everyone wanted to work in the kitchen.

Larsen: Were there other chores you had?
BROWN: No, there was not much we did otherwise. I mean, we helped with whatever they needed where we were, but we didn’t go to work. I don’t think there was any work, because in England… I don’t know how it is now. If you apply for a job, you had to wait several weeks. If no English person wants it, then you can have it. Maybe it is not such a bad idea. That’s why a lot of us went into domestic service, because that was always available.

Larsen: So after the hops picking and fruit picking, there was a period when you went into domestic service? 
BROWN: That’s right. I went in with an English family and I took care of whatever they needed. Slowly, you pick up the language and you get independent. It takes a while, but it can be done. 

Larsen: What was the timeframe? 
BROWN: Maybe the beginning of l940, I would say, because the war broke out in 1939, a few months after we came to England. Then, after a while, they needed every available person. You really had no choice, whether you were foreign or otherwise, you had to either join the forces or go into the ammunition factories. That’s where I ended up, in one of the ammunition factories. I lived with an English family, with room and board.

Larsen: So first you went into the domestic service with a family – [was] that a paid job?
BROWN: Well, they didn’t pay us much, but we lived there and we ate there and at least we had a roof over our head. They paid us a little bit. 

Larsen: What town was that in?
BROWN: That was already in Leicester, in the Midlands.

Larsen: What were the responsibilities of a domestic worker?
BROWN: We did whatever they needed. They had two children. I’d take care of the children a little bit and whatever they needed in the house. I don’t think we did too hard work. I think they had someone else there.

Larsen: Was it just you?
BROWN: I was the only one working for the family.

Larsen: During this time, what was your Jewish life like?
BROWN: Almost non-existent. There wasn’t too much of a Jewish life for me. The English people, they didn’t want to be bothered. I don’t really know why. I know they tried to place us with [Jewish] English people during holidays and things, and then nothing came of it. It just didn’t phase out somehow. 

Larsen: This is when you were in the camps?
BROWN: In the camps, they did themselves, but once I was on my own… I mean, they keep track of you in the beginning. There wasn’t too much Jewish life for me at that time.

Larsen: Did some of the people that came with you on the Kindertransport, who were in the tents and the dorms, go off with families?
BROWN: A lot of them did, yes. Some of us went out independently. 

Larsen: So some of them were looking for Jewish families?
BROWN: I don’t know. I remember they used to ask us, “Do you want to go to a Jewish family for this holiday or that?” We would say yes, and then nothing came of it. We never went.

Larsen: Did people keep their rituals as a group?
BROWN: In the beginning. Afterwards, not. I don’t think there was a synagogue in Leicester. I’m sure not. I don’t remember nothing. I’m sure I would know if it was there.

Larsen: How was that family that you lived with in Leicester? 
BROWN: They were very nice. They were very nice. They tried to be like parents to me. The husband was in the army, but the others in the family they were really nice to me. 

Larsen: This was the second family you lived with?
BROWN: Yes. The first one, I was in domestic service. This one, I was just renting a room. 

Larsen: What was the name of this family?
BROWN: Their name was Wilson. The family where I was in domestic service, I don’t remember [their name]. The Wilsons, they were very nice. 

Larsen: Who lived in that house?
BROWN: There was a daughter, who was my age, and I shared a room with her. Mrs. Wilson had twin boys. They had a small house – very cold in the winter, because we couldn’t get enough heating supplies and there were only coal fireplaces. We had one fireplace going downstairs, which was a combined living room [and] dining room. Everything we did there. At night, we put our clothes under the pillow to keep them warm. It was so cold in the winter – unbelievable. You couldn’t even take a bath in the house. Those were the years of the bathhouses. You paid a few pennies and you go in and they give you nice seven inches of hot water. That was the rule during the war. But when we rang the bell and said the water’s cold, they would let in more hot water. There was no such thing as an everyday bath. I don’t know how we did it. Now you would die if you don’t have a shower every day, but [then] if you went twice a week, [it] was a lot. After work we did that. 

Larsen: Before you got to Leicester, where did you have baths?
BROWN: You know, it’s funny thing – I don’t remember much about before I came to Leicester. I tried for myself to think, where was I then? And I don’t know. Isn’t that strange? I really don’t know! I know that in the dormitories [there] were bathtubs. That I know. A funny thing, I don’t know where I was in between. I went to London, but I really never lived there. That I do remember. I must have lived somewhere else in between, but I don’t know where.

Larsen: What was it like when you went to London?
BROWN: Oh, we went just like for a vacation, you know. It was a big treat to stay in a hotel and get breakfast in bed. My friend Sheila and I did that all the time, whenever we could. We went for a weekend to London.  

Larsen: This is once you were working in the ammunitions factory?
BROWN: I worked already in the ammunition factory, and it was before she joined the navy. My friend Sheila, she was English, and she joined the navy. She came on leave sometimes, and if I could get away, that’s what we did.

Larsen: And she was Jewish?
BROWN: She was half Jewish. Her father was Jewish, her mother not. But they were also very nice to me. I mean the whole family. I spent a lot of time in their house. We are still friends, Sheila and I, after all these years. She lives in LA now. 

Larsen: Going back, before we talk about the war and working in the ammunitions factory, once you got to England, what kind of communication did you have with your parents and family?
BROWN: At the very beginning, you could write. Of course, before the war you could write, and then, somehow, you could write through the Red Cross. Then after a few months, everything stopped completely. Nothing would go through. You lost really all contact. Nobody had any idea what happened to anyone. 

Larsen: And you had media? You knew what was going on in the war?
BROWN: Oh yes, we knew what was going on. We had radios and newspapers in those days. 

Larsen: What do you remember about that?
BROWN: Well, we all felt that no one will survive. We really didn’t think. I mean when you hear all those concentration camps and Hitler taking away millions of people in their wagons and everything was destroyed. You could see on the news and the pictures and all this… No, we didn’t have much hope.

Larsen: Did you have family in England at that time? 
BROWN: Well, my aunt, the one that ended up in New York. I didn’t see her in England. It was a momentary stop over before the United States would let them in. So I think somehow they got to the States when the war was already on. My uncle, he was in Vienna and he came also to England. Somebody sent him papers. He ended up in an internment camp because foreigners were enemy aliens, you know. But then they let him out and he worked. He was a watchmaker, so he worked on the planes on the instrument panels or something. 

Larsen: That was Emil? He was with his wife Margit?
BROWN: Yes. He lived in London. 

Larsen: And the other aunt, the one who passed through – what was her name, again?
BROWN: Bertha.

Larsen: She was with her husband then?
BROWN: Yes. His name was Sam.

Larsen: And they went to America?
BROWN: Yes. When they got their visa, they went to America.

Larsen: So you didn’t see her, but you did see Emil and Margit?
BROWN: Well, we didn’t live in the same town, but when we went to London, sometimes I saw them. They had no children. Bertha had one daughter. There were no other relatives in England.

Larsen: So, now you are in Leicester, working in the ammunition factory and living with the Wilsons. The war is on. What did you do in the factory?
BROWN: We worked very hard. Two weeks night shift, two weeks days, 12-hour days. 

Larsen: Who worked in the factory? Mostly young people? Mostly women?
BROWN: Well, there were men. Most of them, I think, they called them 4-F and they couldn’t get into the forces. They really needed every available person that they could get ahold of to go into the forces. The English [military] was full of GIs and Canadians. But there were some men who couldn’t get in, so they worked in the factories. The age group, I don’t remember.

Larsen: What was your work? [The following section is not on the audio recording]
BROWN: We worked for the Navy. They made turrets there. I was an engineer. I was one of the people who tested them after they were made to see if they worked, if they were balanced, and to see that no mistakes were made. It was a responsible job 

Larsen: What was that like, working in the factories?
BROWN: I don’t know. Somehow, we didn’t mind. We knew it had to be done and nobody complained. Nobody complained about the rations. There was no clothes, no food, but you managed! So you didn’t eat meat or eggs, because everything went to the [armed] forces. Nobody complained. Whatever we had, we had. We had rationing and you got coupon book and you could buy so much. You know, for so many coupons you could buy so much food or so much clothing. Like shoes would be, let’s say, three coupons. I don’t remember, exactly. Or a coat, which was a big item, might take ten coupons. So you had to figure out what to spend it on. Of course, there was a lot of black market, too.

Larsen: The black market?  
BROWN: We had money! Who cares? We didn’t care about saving. We figured tomorrow we might not be here, already. You go to sleep, you wake up, and the house next door could be down to the ground. Or you went to work and you couldn’t come home, because there was no way to go. Everything was down to the ground. So you didn’t think of tomorrow. You did what you had to. We went to the shelter the first couple months and then you stopped doing that, too. I remember carrying a gas mask because they were afraid something would happen. That was forced – you had to carry a gas mask – but you didn’t have to go to a shelter. We stopped the gas masks after a while, also. 

Larsen: Did you know people that were soldiers?
BROWN: Not really. Well, I knew soldiers, but I had known them before. The British soldiers weren’t in Britain. Most of them were in France. Most of the soldiers we saw were Americans and Canadians. 

Larsen: I know you talked about going to [see and help] the armed forces…?
BROWN: They had a hall, a room, a building, whatever, where they entertained the forces, so everyone went. I guess we went to have a good time, but we really went to help out. You volunteer, you serve or whatever. Everyone ended up there. The American soldiers had everything, you name it and they had it, from cigarettes to food. I knew a guy who used to bring sugar to Mrs. Wilson. She was so happy to see a bag of sugar. They had a PX. I don’t know if they got it from the States or whether it came from Britain. The cigarettes I know came from the States because of their name. I smoked in those days. In time you get used to it. As tough as it was, you get independent and that’s how it went. 

Larsen: You had a social group?
BROWN: I had a lot of friends. Some were from Europe. A couple of my friends, their parents came away also. They were lucky enough. We had a big social group. We got together in different houses. 

Larsen: Are there things that you want to share or others memories of that war time period?
BROWN: I don’t know, really. We had a rough time. We worked really hard. But, like I said before, nobody minded. Everyone was really patriotic. You didn’t care what you ate. You went into a restaurant, you ordered baked beans and toast. That was it! You didn’t expect anything else. I remember everyone had to pool their ration books together and Mrs. Wilson bought meat for Sunday. With so many points you buy a piece of meat. One egg a week and if the yoke would break no one wanted the egg. Would you believe that? Because everyone was so desperate for that one egg! But we survived. Everyone survived very well. 

Larsen: Were the Wilsons a religious family?
BROWN: Well, sometimes they went to church. Of course, after church, everyone in England goes to the pub, because Sunday dinner is lunchtime. Everyone goes to the pub. At night, I used to meet friends in the pub – a boyfriend, anyone – and you sit there. I was never a big drinker. I could have one drink a whole night. They played darts and it was a way of socializing, you know. I bet they still do it.

Larsen: Have you ever had a desire to go back to England?
BROWN: You know, I never wanted to go back to Europe, but I think I would have liked to go back to England somehow. I don’t know how, but I never did. My son, the younger one, he went to England once. On his way to Italy, he stopped in England. 

Larsen: I think we are at point where the war is coming to an end. Do you remember that period of time?
BROWN: Well, I guess everyone was very happy to see that eventually we will win. Boy, everyone was happy when the end of the war came, because England lost a lot of people, too. They really lost a lot of people. Of course, then the liberation was in Europe and we thought, ‘Well, maybe somebody would be left.’ But nothing. There were some people left, but none of my family.

Larsen: Did you ever get any information about your family?
BROWN: Somebody at one time said (I don’t know exactly where I heard that) that they wanted to escape to Hungary. But they were caught on the border and brought back and that was the finish of that. Nobody knew what happened after that.

Larsen: For you, after the war was over, what was the plan?
BROWN: Well, I had papers, before I went to England, to come to the United States. But in those years there was a quota so I couldn’t come here to the States. That’s when I went to England. When the war was over, my aunt and uncle in the States – I guess the papers were too old by then – got new papers and then after a while I came here.

Larsen: How long did that take you?
BROWN: Well, the war was finished in ‘45 and I came here in March in ‘47. In the meantime, I went to work in a dress shop [in Leicester]. I still stayed with the Wilson family. I stayed with them until I left to come to the States, and I worked in the dress shop. That I remember. It was on a corner. Funny how you remember some things and some things you don’t remember. 

Larsen: What was it like in the dress shop?
BROWN: The owner was very nice. She was a Jewish woman – also a mixed marriage. Funny, like Sheila, my friend’s parents. She was very nice. She took in refugee people to help work for her. I remember, she had a woman who did the hats and millinery; in those days hats were stylish. She worked there. The owner gave to whoever she could; she gave us jobs. 

[Recording pauses and resumes]

Larsen: We got interrupted, but you were talking about the woman who owned the shop. What else do you remember?
BROWN: I remember she had a refrigerator, which was a big deal in those days. Of course, you went for an ounce of butter, you shopped more or less every day for what you needed. Anything that had to be kept cold went down in the cellar, which was earth, not cement. The milk, I remember, we kept near the door so it could stay cold, because there was nowhere to keep things. But, somehow or other, nothing spoiled. I don’t know what they did! Of course, there was no washing machine either. A dishwasher, I’d never seen or never heard of even. We washed all our clothes by hand in the sink. You forget things. I didn’t even remember that. 

But the dress shop person had a refrigerator. That was great. Of course, I didn’t have a refrigerator when I first came to New York, either. My uncle gave us an icebox. I don’t know if you even remember that. The iceman came with a block of ice. You put it in there and underneath you had a big dish to catch the water. Not much to put away. Then Murray said, “We both go to work. This is a pain in the neck. Let’s go and buy a refrigerator!” And I remember we went. For a hundred dollars we got a good refrigerator, and we bought it on time. The only thing I ever bought on time was that refrigerator, and the bank was hounding us for years to buy more stuff because we paid out so much every month until we paid off that refrigerator. My aunt, whose house we rented from, they had a beautiful refrigerator. But me she gave an icebox.

Larsen: We’ll talk some more about New York in a minute, but I wanted to go back to something we didn’t talk about when we talked about Lachenbach. That was the boiler, where you washed the clothes. I would like you to share that.
BROWN: Oh, yes! There was a little house outside, on the side of the mail house. In the corner was like a boiler, because they used to boil the clothes in those days. The roof would open up on both sides, because during Sukkos you had to eat outside. That was both our washroom and our sukkah, and a woman used to come in every Monday to help to wash the clothes [laughter]. 

Larsen: So now the war is ending, you’re waiting to go back to America, it’s been two years, and you’re on your way. What was that trip like, leaving England?
BROWN: We left from Scotland on a freighter, because there was no transportation. There were no ships like now. I guess they were turned into warships. I was seasick for the ten days it took us to come across. I was seasick the whole ten days. Oh God, you want to die. You are better off dead than being seasick. There was such good food on the boat – especially after England, where we had nothing – and we couldn’t eat! Some were okay, but I couldn’t.

BROWN: Coming here, I figured I’d have family, not be on my own. It wasn’t such great family, but what can you do? I came and that was it, I guess. I stayed with my uncle, Phillip Gellar, my father’s brother, and his wife Goldie. They had two children younger than me: a boy and girl, Ralph and Shirley. Uncle Phillip came here I don’t know when – many, many years before. I think my father had papers to come to America. I don’t know who gave him the papers, but he didn’t want to leave Austria, so my uncle came on my father’s papers. I had never seen him before, because I think he was here before I was born. I think he was older than my father.

Larsen: Did they meet you at the boat?
BROWN: Meet me, yes. It so happened that I came into Brooklyn, somehow or other. Brooklyn has a lot of water and they met me at the boat. I thought I would come to my Aunt Bertha, but she figured I would be better with my [other] aunt and uncle, because they had young children and who knows? And so my aunt and uncle brought me to their house and that’s where I ended up until I got married. 

Larsen: How would you describe that experience? 
BROWN: I don’t know. It wasn’t a very good beginning, really. Somehow or other, I don’t exactly know why, but I didn’t feel very happy there to start with. I don’t know. 

Larsen: Did you work while you lived with them?
BROWN: They discouraged me from taking jobs [so] I didn’t work in the beginning. Then my uncle had a deli and when it got busy in the summer – because I came in March – I started to work for him in his restaurant until the following fall. It was really only busy in the summer when he needed help. I still stayed with my aunt and uncle. Then I went to work, by myself, for my cousin – well, it was sort of a cousin – who had a dress factory. But I didn’t like it there and then I left. I went to work in Woolworth’s, which was near the house.

Larsen: Where was the house? Where were they living?
BROWN: They lived on West First Street in Brooklyn, which was near Coney Island. You could walk across to the beach. Now it became Trump Village. Donald Trump bought all this property around there. You can’t recognize it.

Larsen: What was the neighborhood like?
BROWN: The neighborhood… I think it was a lot of Jewish. I think some Italians, but mainly Jewish, from what I remember. God, everything was cheap in those days. But then again, a person didn’t earn that much, so I guess it evens itself out. I stayed there and then I met my husband Murray. Apartments and everything was very hard to get those days, [so] my uncle, he rented us out a room – a very tiny apartment, one room and a tiny kitchen. We had a little round table that stood halfway in the room and halfway in the kitchen. One of us sat on one side, and one of us sat on the other side! We had an icebox, but no refrigerator. This was when we got married. 

Larsen: Well, let’s talk about who you married and how you met him! 
BROWN: I met my husband Murray Brown in a night school. His given name was really Mendel Braun. He wasn’t long here. Murray was a concentration camp survivor and he went to school to learn English. I was there because they said I should improve my accent. I don’t know if you can ever improve your accent, but that’s how I went and that’s how I met him. 

Larsen: When did you meet?
BROWN: I met him September [or] October of 1947, and we married in April 1948. I didn’t know him long. My Aunt Goldie gave us a wedding in her house and she made my gown. Then they rented us out that one room I was talking about. Then we had a child – Sidney Walter, born February 17, 1949. [Money] was really tight, but we looked for something else, and we found that apartment in the Bronx on a 4th floor walkup. 

Larsen: What was that apartment like?
BROWN: Don’t ask. It was so hot. We moved in August. The people who lived in this apartment before had moved into a bigger apartment in the same house. They lent us their fan because it was so hot! It was terrible and the apartment was full of roaches. I don’t know where we went for a day or two, but we had to call in an exterminator to get rid of all the roaches. Finally we got rid of the roaches. 

Larsen: This is when you and Murray went to get a real refrigerator.  
BROWN: Yes, that’s when! [laughs] So we moved into that apartment in the Bronx and we only had one child – Sidney, who was born in Brooklyn. Then eventually while we were in that apartment, a bigger apartment in the same house – a four room – got empty. So we changed apartments and moved into the four rooms. We had two bedrooms, and a living room and a kitchen. Also on the 4th floor walkup, which wasn’t easy with two kids. 

Larsen: So then you had a second kid?
BROWN: Yes, our other child, Kenneth Gary. He was born September 1,1953. 

Larsen: So you had two kids and you were in the two-bedroom in the Bronx.
BROWN: Yes. Well, before that, we had to stay in the other apartment. First, with the crib it was okay, but then we had to buy a pullout couch, and we gave the children the bedroom until we moved to the four room. Then the neighborhood started to go. When the neighborhood started to go, we moved further up where it was better already, into four rooms, which were good. It was on the first floor. But by then they could walk already! When they were smaller, I had to carry them up and down! 

We had a very good super. He was from Romania. Those were the days of the dumb waiter. I used to go shopping and when he was around, he used to put my groceries on the dumb waiter, and I carried the babies. Every night, the super would ring the bell and on each floor you would put your garbage on the dumb waiter, and he would pull it down. If you wanted your neighbor across from you, all you had to do was open the dumb waiter door and she’ll be on the other side! [laughter] But that stopped after a while. Then they didn’t collect garbage anymore. You had to bring it down. I remember a boy next door who was already grown. If I met him he always carried the kids downstairs for me. Henry was his name. 

Larsen: When you say the neighborhood was going down, what do you mean?
BROWN: Well, in those days a lot of Puerto Ricans moved in. They used to throw their garbage out the window. It was really bad. It got so you were afraid to go out of the house and whatnot, and then people wanted to move out. Finally we got another apartment from the same landlord. He owned the house we were in and he owned the house we moved into. In New York, neighborhoods went really quick. One day it was good and the next day it really went down in the dumps.

Larsen: What did Murray do for a living?
BROWN: Murray worked in the textile industry – a wholesale place. The factories were in Massachusetts and the dry goods came to New York, and they supplied factories with whatever they needed to make clothes with it. 

Larsen: Where was his office?
BROWN: His place was downtown in Manhattan. Before I knew Murray, he had a lot of other jobs – whatever he could get and find here. I know he used to tell about the provisions they made kosher salami and frankfurters from. You would bring three pounds of outdated meat you couldn’t sell to the butcher and you’d get back one pound of provisions to make the frankfurters and salami. You would never catch him eating one, I can tell you that! He didn’t eat frankfurters. But when I knew him he already worked in the dry goods place. He worked there until we came to Eugene. It closed up a year or two ahead of that, but that was his job.

Larsen: When you were living in the Bronx, what family was in New York that you were in contact with?
BROWN: By then, my cousin Donia Herodek, who I didn’t know in Europe – my father’s sister’s daughter – had moved to New York. She lived in Brooklyn but I saw her a lot. We went to see my Aunt Bertha. With my Uncle Phillip and Aunt Goldie, we didn’t have such a good relationship until a little later on. 

That’s the only family we really had, but I made a lot of friends in the Bronx. I lived in a big apartment house and everybody knew each other. You had to go shopping or something, you threw your kid into their house, or they brought their kids to your house, and they went to school together and everything. You know, if one couldn’t take them the other one would pick them up and bring them home. It was nice there because really you knew almost the whole neighborhood. Relatives, like I said, I didn’t have too many. 

Larsen: The relative that you mentioned, the cousin that you didn’t know – Donia. Can you talk about her story?
BROWN: She and her sister Hella – a man they knew, Otto Herodek, saved her and her sister from Hitler. He hid them away someplace all through the war. At the end of the war, Donia’s sister stayed in Europe and Donia married this man Otto. Then, sometime after that, they came to the States. Donia was married before, and she had a little boy. Her husband also was killed in the camps, but some Christian family said they would take the boy and keep him as their own, and then give him back to her after the war. But after the war she couldn’t find the family. She couldn’t find her son or nothing. After she married Otto, who hid her from Hitler, then they had a little girl. That’s when they came to New York. The little girl, Rose, was about six then. 

Larsen: Do you continue to keep in contact with Rose?
BROWN: I have contact with my cousin! Donia is still alive in a nursing home, though she doesn’t know from much. She’s 92, no, she’s 94! She’s 12 years older than me. I’m in touch with her daughter Rose, who is my second cousin. 

Larsen: So you would get together with Donia when you were in New York?
BROWN: Oh, yes. A lot of times we got together. 

Larsen: How did you know about her?
BROWN: I don’t remember how it came about. Either she knew someone was here in America, maybe my Aunt Bertha, or someone or other. When eventually they got papers to come to the States, that’s when I got to know her. But exactly how I found out about her, I don’t know. She was born in Poland and I never knew her. My father was Donia’s uncle.

Larsen: And on your husband’s side, what relatives were part of the family?
BROWN: Murray had a cousin, Adele Lanz. She lives in New York. Her father was Murray’s cousin. They went to France – the whole family. The children were born there and they lived in a small town in France. Nobody knew they were Jewish. When the father died, they had to take him to another town to bury him, because nobody knew in that town he was Jewish. That’s how they lived through the war. That’s what saved them. They somehow lived. The man Adele married was a cook on [an] Israeli ship. Somehow or other, he traveled back and forth to France. That’s how she met him and she married him, and then they moved to New York. 

Larsen: So were they part of your life, too?
BROWN: Oh, yes. We saw them quite a bit after they came to New York. The boys were more a less the same age. They lived in Brooklyn and we lived in the Bronx.

Larsen: Murray, you said – what concentration camps was he in?
BROWN: Murray was in Theresienstadt. He was in Bergen Belsen. I think he was in Auschwitz, also. It all started in the Warsaw Ghetto. Then from there they took him to camps. 

Larsen: Who sponsored him?
BROWN: He had an uncle here at that time. Really, it was his uncle’s wife who sponsored him. His uncle was a physician, a lung and heart specialist. His wife was a nice person, nicer than the uncle. Their second name was Kopp. K-O-P-P. That I remember. After she died, Murray used to go [to] his uncle and bring him to the house for food and everything. When he died he left all his money to charity. He had a lot of money. Can you believe that? That’s the kind of guy he was. That was Murray’s mother’s brother.

Larsen: What was your Jewish life like in the Bronx?
BROWN: The same like in Brooklyn. A lot of neighbors were Jewish. The kids went to Hebrew school, and the school was on one side, so I pick them up here and you take them to Hebrew school across the way. It was very easy. Not like they do now in New York. We had a Jewish life. We kept all the holidays and everything. Myself, I was never so religious. I never kept kosher. In Europe, everybody is kosher. My friend in LA, she still keeps kosher, she tells me. I said you couldn’t live in Eugene and eat meat.

Larsen: Were you active in the synagogue?
BROWN: Yes, here or there. In New York, every second street has a sort of a synagogue. You know, it doesn’t have a building in itself. We went to the Burnside Jewish Center. It was a house. Of course, almost everything was Orthodox – the men sit here, the women sit somewhere else. That’s where my children had bar mitzvahs. It wasn’t that hard.

Larsen: You and Murray, what did you enjoy doing?
BROWN: Well, with Murray, we did everything together. He was that kind. I mean he didn’t hold onto me, you know, but when it came to doing things, we did it together. He always helped me around the house and things like that. He was better with the kids than me. I was afraid when they were born – I’m going to hold this baby; it is going to break in half on me! I was afraid. No, he was good with the kids and he would cook and everything.

Larsen: How was setting up housekeeping? 
BROWN: Well, I guess we just fell into it. It was new to me, because really at home and in England I didn’t do anything. But I guess you learn as you go along. I think I am a self-taught cook. My cousin taught me a little bit, as far as baking was concerned. Not so much with cooking. I don’t know. I guess I learned by trial and error. 

Larsen: What memories do you want to share about raising the boys?
BROWN: Well, they went to school. Everything was near the house, except for the high school. They both went to Bronx High School of Science. When we lived on Harrison Avenue, you had to take a bus or a train. That’s where Sid went. Then when Kenny got older, we had moved by then, and the school was much closer. You could walk to Bronx High School of Science then. That was the school in those days. I don’t know how it is now, but it was a very prestigious school. Everybody couldn’t get into that. You had to pass a special test.

Larsen: Did you go to work?
BROWN: I didn’t go to work until Kenny was 12. Then I went to work in a department store. I was dying to get out of the house. I said, “I have to go do something!” I remember we were away in the country and someone took the newspaper and said to me, “You always wanted to go to work here at Alexander. Here they are asking for workers, send in the application from the newspaper!” There were stores all over New Jersey, Connecticut and New York. Every August, they opened a new store. I filled the card in and sent it out. 

By the time I came home there was a card saying come for an interview. I go downtown to Manhattan on Lexington and 59th. There was another Alexander store two blocks from me, but I wanted to work in downtown Manhattan in a new store. You never seen such a line; it was clear around blocks and blocks. I said, “I must be crazy.”

I go to the door and I said, “I have this card for an interview. Do I have to stay on line?” The man at the door said, “No, go right in.” And that’s how I started to work. I worked there until I moved here. Now they dissolved the store. I don’t know what happened. A few years ago already. I liked it. I loved the idea of getting out of the house. Of course, the traveling with the subway is not so great, but I liked the store because it was new and everyone started together. I could have transferred to the store near the house, but I didn’t want to work there. Bloomingdale’s was across the street.

Larsen: Was that okay with your family?
BROWN: No, Murray didn’t like I went out to work. He said, “Stay home. You pay away the money in taxes.” I remember, twice a year they took inventory, and they closed the store at 3:00 and you had to work until the inventory was finished. I said to Murray, especially in the winter in February, “Meet me by the subway.” He said, “If you’re afraid to come home, don’t go!” [laughter] That’s what he used to say to me, because mine was the last stop already. I had people to start out with, but not to go home with. But he came anyway. [laughter] Yes, I liked the idea. I said I was home long enough. 

Larsen: What did you do at Alexander’s?
BROWN: I was a cashier. Not like here. The cashier only takes money. Here, a salesgirl helps you and then goes to the counter. They had a salesgirl, and then there was a line maybe with 5 or 6 cash registers, and you brought your merchandise to the cashier. That one who owned that store started with a little pushcart. Jewish – his name was Alexander Farkus. The stores were named “Alexander” and they say he was wonderful to work for. That was in the olden days, you know. Like they say about Fred Meyers here. They say when he had the stores they were nice to work for. He would eat with the help and everything. Once the children take over, it’s not the same. I worked there until ’78, a couple of weeks before I came to Eugene.

Larsen: It is now October 30, 2006, and I am with Charlotte Brown. We are in the second session of her oral history. We left off talking about your working at Alexander’s. We had talked about the boys going to high school, and your move to the place in the Bronx, your husband’s career in textiles, so as you look back on parenting and having teenagers, are there memories you want to share?
BROWN: Well, when my younger one was in high school, the other one already was in City College, because when I went to work Kenny was already 12. You know, I had good kids. I liked my job and my husband was very supportive to help me. He didn’t like so much that I went to work [laughter], but it was okay. I only worked part-time in Alexander’s until I came to Eugene in 1978, about 13 years. A couple years after I moved here, the store closed up. Everyone was so surprised because it was a big corporation.

Larsen: We talked a little about when you got married and how Murray was good with children and he helped around the house and he cooked. Are there some other things you want to share about your marriage?
BROWN: He was a very good husband. That I have to say. When I was sick, he took care of me. He cooked and he took care of the children. I was a few times in the hospital. In those days, they wouldn’t let children in. He used to bring them so I could look out the window and I could see the children. But he always liked a small town. He never liked New York, but somehow or other, we never moved. He had a job. The kids went to school, so we stayed where we were until one day we came to Eugene to visit my older son, who was living here at the time.

Murray liked it right away. He said, “That’s a nice small town to retire in.” I wasn’t so crazy about it in the beginning, but we went back to New York and a couple of years later, we moved to Eugene. I left my whole apartment with my son Kenneth in New York, because it didn’t make sense that he should buy new stuff there and I should buy new stuff here! It was cheaper that way and more convenient. This is how we arrived in Eugene. It took me a couple of years to get used to the town here. My husband loved it right away because he loved the outdoors and he liked gardens and all these things. Me, it took a little longer.

Larsen: Were you homesick?
BROWN: First of all, I think I was home sick. I didn’t work here, which was a mistake, because you meet people when you work. And then I didn’t like the idea of leaving my younger son, Kenneth. He wasn’t married then or nothing, but he said, “Go! You’ll have a better life there than here.” And in time I got used to it. I started to make friends and it wasn’t so lonely then. Even though I had my husband, I’m a people person. After I got to know people, I was a little happier here. It was very hard here to break in. I think it’s a lot better now, especially in the Jewish community.  Later on – what had nothing to do with the Temple – we made our own senior group and we met once a month in a meeting room at the bank that was down town that let us use it for free. It was very nice! 

Larsen: What happened at those meetings?
BROWN: Peter DeFazio came once. I remember, Jerry Rust, he came. I don’t know what happened to him. Howard Fine, a very famous eye doctor now, he came and showed us slides of cataract surgery. We tried to get interesting people to come and speak and show films and things. Now that I think of that, it wasn’t bad. We had a big group! Maybe 30-40 people!

Larsen: Did you have a name?
BROWN: We didn’t have no name. It was just the senior’s group. That’s what we called it.

Larsen: Were all the members from the Jewish community?
BROWN: Anyone who wanted to come! It had nothing to do with the Temple. People didn’t know where to go. That’s where one sent the other. They came to meet other people. My friend Jean – I just showed you the mirror she gave me – I met her there. I met Gloria there. 

Larsen: Did you join the Temple [Beth Israel] right when you came? 
BROWN: Not right away. Maybe a year later. But like I said, it was hard to make friends until I made the first move. If you invite someone, then they invite you back. Then as I got to know more people, I was a little happier here.

Larsen: So you bought a house?
BROWN: We bought the house before we moved here. We came on vacation to Eugene and my oldest son Sid was living here and, at that time. He really had to get out of where he was living. We really bought the house by accident. We didn’t really intend to. But, somehow, my husband said, “If you don’t like it in Eugene, we will move back to New York!” That’s not so easy. It’s easier said than done. But we bought the house. We put $100 down. Can you believe it? My son, Sidney, lived in the house until we came.

Larsen: What about your sons now? Sid still lives in Eugene?
BROWN: Sid still lives outside of Eugene, in the country, in Veneta. He’s a big help to me with whatever I need. He has a few acres and a big dog. He grew a big garden last year and is going to do more this year with the garden, he says. 

Larsen: And what does he do?
BROWN: Sid is a cake decorator for the Fred Meyer bakery. He has worked there 15 or 16 years. He started at the Excelsior in Eugene baking bread. They were making the long French breads. Jill Katz was doing that and then Sid took over for her. He was also the pastry chef at the Eugene Hilton.

Larsen: Can you tell me about Kenneth? He is still in New York?
BROWN: Kenny moved from the Bronx to Brooklyn. He is a very ambitious person, my Kenneth. He works very hard and he’s married now. He’s married 16 years already this coming December and they have three children. That’s the only thing that pulls me to New York. I would like to be little more in my grandchildren’s life. But I try to go twice a year and he comes out every once in a while, so I do see them. Not enough, maybe, but better than nothing. 

Larsen: What are their names? Your daughter-in-law and the children?
BROWN: My daughter-in-law’s name is Adrienne. The oldest girl is Emily. She’s 12. Andrew is 11 and Katie is 9. 

Larsen: What does Kenneth do?
BROWN: Kenneth is the editor and chief of a local newspaper that puts out maybe 12 weeklies in different boroughs all over Brooklyn, Manhattan, Staten Island, Long Island, or whatever. He’s also a professional photographer. He works very hard.

Larsen: When you go to Brooklyn now are there people you still visit with?
BROWN: There is hardly anybody left. [The following response is not on the audio recording and was added in during an edit] My husband’s cousin, Adele Lanz, is there. That’s it. We talk on the phone. I didn’t see her the last couple times I was in New York because her husband Sam was really ill. Sam passed away six months ago or more. I have the husband, Norman Mendelson, of my cousin Shirley. Shirley passed away a couple years ago. They always came to visit me when I came to Brooklyn. Norman still comes down when I’m in New York and I call him sometimes. Shirley’s brother Ralph just died a couple months ago. Norman called me. I can’t remember how many years I didn’t see Ralph. He didn’t keep contact with the family. That’s it. There’s no one left no more. At the beginning I used to go visit my friends and everything or we’d meet downtown somewhere but now I don’t see many people.

Larsen: Are there other memories you want to share about New York? You mentioned last time that you went on trips to the country in the summer. What was that like? How long did you stay there?
BROWN: Every summer we went to the country. I didn’t like to stay a whole summer. Mostly we went for a month to the bungalows in the Catskills to get away from the heat in New York. All the husbands of the women and children, they came out on the weekend. It was nice, but one month was enough for me. Lots of people went for two months, for the whole season, but we traveled. When my husband had vacation, we didn’t go to the bungalow. We traveled to the New England states, went to Canada, Niagara Falls, and places like this. Then we went away for a month to the country. 

Larsen: How long did you do that for?
BROWN: We did it for a good many years. I don’t know how many, exactly. But quite a bit until the kids got bigger, I guess, and didn’t want to go anymore [laughter]. That’s what happened. Everybody else was there – your neighbor, your friends – or you met new people and they had children, so everyone was occupied.

Larsen: So… first you came to Oregon on vacation and then you went back to New York?
BROWN: Yes. We came to Eugene first on vacation, and then went to San Francisco. I had such misgivings about moving, because I wasn’t very happy here. I didn’t know if we made the right decision.  Now I see we did, but at that time, not. That was already 28 years ago. 

Larsen: Was it during this time that Murray started talking, in the community, about his experiences in the camps?
BROWN: There were not many survivors in Eugene then, so a lot of people came to ask him to speak at the University of Oregon, or the University in Corvallis, or they took him to high schools every year to talk about his experience in the camps. 

Larsen: How was that for him?
BROWN: At the beginning it was very hard. He really didn’t want to do it. It brought back too many memories. But then he realized that it should be more out in the open and people should know about it, so he went. 

Larsen: Did you go with him?
BROWN: Most of the time, yes.

Larsen: Have you and Murray talked about your stories with your children?
BROWN: Some, yes. Not everything. It came out slowly, a little at a time, but now they know. A long time ago they knew already.

Larsen: We have some newspaper articles here about Murray and his experience in the camps.
BROWN: Yes, he was very frequently on the news and in the newspapers. Whenever they needed a story on the Holocaust survivors, they came to him.

Larsen: And you also were interviewed about the Kindertransport?
BROWN: Just because of him, at the beginning. I wasn’t so much in the news like him, because he was a concentration camp survivor. He was in the same camp with Eli Wiesel. Eli Wiesel came here once and they met, but they didn’t know each other before.

Larsen: For you and Murray, both coming from Europe and getting married, how do you think that impacted your marriage here?
BROWN: I don’t know. I mean, he came from Europe. I came from England. We really started with nothing, because he was an early immigrant. He came in ‘46, which was soon after the war finished, and he took any job he could get at that time. But that was before I knew him. I came from England when I knew the language already, so I wasn’t too bad. I could only take a small amount of money from England. It was not allowed to take money out of England. Somehow we got together. I don’t know. It just worked. I met him, I think, in October, maybe. We married the following April. Real quick!

Larsen: Did you speak German to each other?
BROWN: No, no. Murray didn’t really speak too much German, because Murray was Polish. I didn’t know Polish, but he knew a little bit of English and a few words in German. That’s how we spoke, because I, at that time, knew a little bit more German. He learned some of it. We didn’t really have a common language. We didn’t teach the kids another language. That was too bad, because if you don’t speak it in the house, it is hard. 

Larsen: And Murray went to school to learn English.
BROWN: Yes, but I didn’t go to school to learn English. I had already learned it!

Larsen: We were talking about language in your household. English was the language in your household. Murray came with Polish, you with some German and a lot of English. 
BROWN: Yes, I spoke English when I came. But he went to night school and he learned it all there. 

Larsen: So we’re coming to Eugene now, and you have a house and you’re settled in. Did you travel when you came to Eugene?
BROWN: Not right away. We liked it so much here! Well, my husband especially. In the summer, we didn’t go anywhere. Later on we took a little trip. We went to British Columbia. We went to Seattle. We took at cruise to Alaska. That was already l990; I think that was. In 1990. 

Larsen: Did you go to Israel?
BROWN: We went to Israel when we were still in New York! In ’73 we went to Israel. My son Kenneth went before us and when he came back, he said, “You have to go!” In the store where I worked, they had a travel agent department. I went in and I booked a tour, and this is how we went to Israel. It was very nice. It really grabs you. Of course, it’s changed a lot since then. When we went, it changed a lot from what it was. Yes, that was nice.

Larsen: Regarding the Jewish community in Eugene, are there other memories you have? Participating in the activities?
BROWN: Well, I was a volunteer for everything that was going. I worked in the gift shop. They had the bagel stand at the fairgrounds when the fair was here. I worked there. My husband, also. They used to make a blintz brunch once a year. I helped to make blintzes. That’s where I met Bertha Moreno. What else did I do? For years and years, I’m working with the newsletter. I can’t remember how many years already, almost since I came here. I’m still with it. Now I’m too old and I don’t do as much, but I still go for the newsletter.

Larsen: Who was the rabbi when you came here?
BROWN: Myron Kinberg was the rabbi then. He was here a few years and then he left and went to New York. Then Yitzhak came in. He was nice guy, Myron, right? 

Larsen: In terms of the Jewish life in Eugene, did you celebrate the holidays?
BROWN: Yes. We went to services. A couple of times, we went to the Seder when I first came here. Then I stopped doing that. We were very active in the Temple! 

Larsen: Did you have a group of friends from the community?
BROWN: Later on I made quite a few friends, which was nice. 

Larsen: And they’re still your friends?
BROWN: Well, you know, some of them died already. But there was a couple we used to travel with, George and Thea Cahn. They used to like to travel, so they had company and we had company. We went to British Columbia and some other places. To Alaska we went with another couple, because George and Thea had already been here.

Larsen: When you came to Eugene, did you have contact with other people who were part of the Kindertransport? 
BROWN: In England, I knew a few people, but then some or rather you all lost touch. In the beginning you write and things. Then it seems everyone moved somewhere else and then we all lost touch with each other. 

Larsen: You mentioned a person that contacted you from Lackenbach?
BROWN: A man from the Holocaust Registry in New York.

Larsen: Yes, tell me about that.
BROWN: Well, one time, this… I forget his name, now. I should have written it down. He contacted me because someone who lives in LA wanted to know if there were any survivors from my hometown, Lackenbach. He didn’t want to give her my number or name, so he asked me first. I said yes, sure. Five minutes later the phone rang and her name is Rosie Gerstein. She called me and now we are good friends over the telephone! I don’t know if we’ll ever meet, but we do call each other every two weeks, which is really nice. She remembers a lot. I think she remembers more than I do, because somehow she came away with her parents and brother, sister, whatever. They must have talked about it. They went to Israel, where they wouldn’t let them in when the boat arrived. But the underground took them out and that’s how they survived, because the ship was sent back. Then, years and years later, she told me, they came to LA. 

Larsen: You said you didn’t remember her.
BROWN: No, I don’t remember her. She remembers me. 

Larsen: From the Jewish school?
BROWN: I don’t know. She knew where we lived. She just remembered me. Somehow, I don’t know. Maybe I wanted to block out a lot of what was. But I’m glad we’re in touch. It’s nice. We talk about everything.

Larsen: You also kept communication with some people in England?
BROWN: Yes, for quite a long time, with the family where I lived – the Wilsons. But then the mother died and the daughter died. They both died of cancer. Can you believe that? Then, you know, slowly everything dies out. 

Larsen: And you had a friend Sheila, also.
BROWN: Sheila is English and lives in LA now. We’re still friends after so many, many years. Last I saw her was when we were in Palm Springs and she drove down from LA, which is quite a while now. Maybe 20 years. Maybe more even. Or maybe not more, because my husband is dead 11 years. In ’96 he died.

Larsen: You’ve been a widow since ’96? Do you want to talk about his illness?
BROWN: Yes, I could talk about it. Once it started, we didn’t know what he had. The doctor said he had Alzheimer’s and we wouldn’t believe it. We went to every doctor we could think of. My doctor let me go. He said we wouldn’t be happy without more information. We took him to the University Hospital, to the Health and Science in Portland. There was a big specialist there, who came from New Jersey, but he said there is nothing they can do. He said Murray has Alzheimer’s. So what could we do? It was very bad. It was a very tough time for me and for him. I kept him at home. Then after a couple of years, he fell outside and broke his hip, so he was three months in the nursing home. After that I said enough of the nursing home. It was so horrible. I brought him home and I had help, but it was hard on me. I brought him home the end of March and he passed away in November. But he suffered so much. It was terrible. He didn’t deserve that, because everything from the concentration camp came back to him. He didn’t remember what was yesterday to last week, but he did remember the concentration camps. 

Larsen: But you were there for him.
BROWN: I was there for him. Everyone said, ‘I don’t know how you do it!’ But Sid and I said there no way we’re going to put him anywhere, because it would have been horrible for him. He would have thought he was again in the concentration camp. There was nothing nobody could do, no matter where we went. And at the end, he just stopped eating and drinking. I think somehow he knew that if he wouldn’t eat… you know. He used to say to Sid and I, when we were separate, “If I don’t eat or drink, I’ll die.” He said it to each one of us, separate. Never together. 

Larsen: Sid was there with you?
BROWN: Sid was there and Kenneth came many times from New York. Oh God, I used to say to him [Kenneth], “You’re going to kill yourself!” He’d come for the weekend, Thursday or Friday. He’d go back Sunday, and a week or two later, he’d be here again. He used to stay with Murray all night, holding his hand. We had a hospital bed in the house. Yes, the kids were very supportive. They really helped. 

Larsen: And they still do.
BROWN: Yes, they still do. Yes. They are very good children. I have to say, Sid is helpful. And Kenny also, in New York. He calls me to see how I am. They are very good boys.

Larsen: Did you keep contact with the caregivers for Murray? Did you make friends with them?
BROWN: Yeah. Oh, yeah.

Larsen: Now we are in your kitchen and it’s ten years later. 
BROWN: Ten year after he passed away. It’s almost the anniversary. 

Larsen: When was that?
BROWN: November 16.

Larsen: How are you doing?
BROWN: I miss him to this day. I really do. But what can you do? You get used to it. I think I’m doing okay. The beginning was tough – as bad as it was with him, because he was so sick. He couldn’t stand, because the hip – it never healed for him. You could hold him. With holding, he could stand and walk. He couldn’t really balance himself and I had to help him with everything. But I guess I was younger and I didn’t mind. I didn’t even think of anything. That’s the way it was and I did it. It’s an awful sickness, I’m telling you. Whatever you have is bad, but it’s very hard to watch. But I think he’s watching over me. I often say to Kenny and Sid, “Dad is watching over you.”

Larsen: Do you believe there is something after? 
BROWN: Maybe I want to believe it! I don’t know. Sometimes I do and sometimes not. But my son Kenneth believes there’s something after. A lot of people do. I don’t know. Maybe… I think I want it to be. I’m not sure if I believe or not. Then when you think back, what’s a whole life? There must be something afterward. I don’t know, a spirit, somehow or other. When Murray died, Shirley from the Temple called and she said, “Open the door and let the spirit out.” I remember that. I don’t know. I think the Jewish people believe there is something after. The Catholics do! The Catholics believe, too, they are going to live somewhere after life. You know, let’s hope so.  

Larsen: Well, you can let me know, if you go. Or if I go, I’ll let you know! [laughter] 
BROWN: It would be nice if there was a life after! I don’t know what it would be like. We’d all be angels. We hope. That’s one thing no one knows. Strange things. We dream sometimes – what is that? And you see people you knew.

Larsen: Do you remember your dreams?
BROWN: Yes. My dreams are very vivid. I dream in color and I wake up and I remember the whole dream. I have a dream, which comes to me very often, that I go into a very familiar place and I come out and everything is strange. I don’t know where I am and I don’t know how to get out of there, and who ever I ask can’t help me. I keep getting this dream over and over. It’s strange, somehow, but that’s the ways it gets. I see buildings and places that I know. It’s like going into my own house and coming out and everything changed. I don’t know why I have those dreams. I dream the same thing over and over. I don’t know if it means anything!  

Larsen: On your refrigerator is the picture of your brother all dressed up and we haven’t mentioned that. Is that the only photograph you have?
BROWN: That’s all I have from the whole family. Nothing else. He was younger than me. I don’t know, maybe he was 10 at the time or 9. I don’t know. That’s all I have.

Larsen: He’s very handsome.
BROWN: Yes, good looking boy. It doesn’t look like then! It looks like a modern picture. I have nothing, my mother, my father – nothing. You asked me if I had pictures. I must have other pictures. I will have to pull out one day and show you, but not from my family. I have nothing, because I don’t know. Whether I had a lot when I came to England, I don’t know, but we moved around so much that things get lost, I guess. 

Larsen: As we are winding up [the interview] and remembering your family, are there others things that you want to share or you want to make sure people know about? 
BROWN: People say it can’t happen again, but I feel it could happen again very easily if people aren’t put down as soon as something happens. It can happen again. People should know what was, so it shouldn’t happen again. But you never know. There are always people who are looking to do something. There’s still plenty of anti-Semitism in the world and I think it could happen. I hope not. 

Larsen: I hope not, too. I think this is important. Your story is important.
BROWN: What a terrible time that was, when Hitler came in. And how far he went! No one could stop him, somehow. He went from one country into another. I tell you what, if he would have known England had nothing – they were so short of ammunition and things. It was just with a stroke of luck that they beat them. When Hitler tried to invade England, they said they had nothing. I know that from working at the ammunition factories and looking at the materials. They could have me for [saying] that! [laughter] It was just a bit of luck. It really was, somehow or other. They didn’t know. They thought that England was very well prepared which wasn’t so.

Larsen: Charlotte, do you read about the World War period? About the Holocaust? I
BROWN: No. Maybe if I come across an article but I don’t take out books on that. No, I don’t want to read too much about it. It is enough, what I remember. 

Larsen: You shared a book with me about the Kindertransport…?
BROWN: Oh, yes! Right! Well, I read a couple, but I am not looking for them. Let’s put it that way. If they come across, I read them. That book you read that I read was really well written, because it is almost my story, except that she was a pianist. 

Larsen: And the title was…
BROWN: The Children of Willesden Lane, or something like that. The author came to England also from Europe.

Larsen: Before we close out interview – in your kitchen Charlotte, when I look around, one of the wonderful things you do is grow wonderful plants.
BROWN: Yes, I love houseplants. In New York, I had houseplants, too. I grow orchids. I’ll show you one later. I don’t know how it grew so beautiful. I love houseplants! I can’t throw them out! I have too many, already. I have no room. Every room is full of plants. I’m lucky with them. Everybody says I have a green thumb. All those you are looking at are orchids. They are not in bloom now – all the flowers fell off. But I have one in there that is still blooming.

Larsen: Also, you like to walk everyday.
BROWN: Yes, I walk. I try to get my exercise. 

Larsen: And you had a nice garden, at times.
BROWN: My husband grew a beautiful garden. There was so much vegetables and fruit, we didn’t know what to do with it. He was good at it. He loved it. I’m not good on the outside. I do my houseplants, but I’m no good in the outside gardening. Now I don’t grow anything. I rely on my friends and neighbors.

Larsen: Well, we’ll close. If we want to add some things, we can when we read it. I really appreciate this opportunity. Thank you.
BROWN: You’re welcome. I liked the time spending with you!