Father’s Work

Life with us followed a regular course. In the warmer times of year father always had plenty to do. His customers liked him since he was a meticulous and punctual craftsman and never took advantage of them. They often asked advice from him with respect to the houses, especially several older widows. When he had finished his work, they invited him to breakfast and served him something special and a glass of wine. In the evening he would then tell us how nice it was in such refined company and how much he liked it. However, there were others, even among the well read people, who knew how to take advantage of him and always thought of craftsman as swindlers.

I cannot forget one incident. The teacher Fromm (the name means devout, but he probably wasn’t) had father do all the repairs to the school. I was at this time already grown, and wrote the bills for father. Everything was itemized, the price for the workers and the price for father’s own labor. He estimated it for each day and charged a relatively minor sum. The other craftsman, who moved ahead and became rich, did not do that anymore. When fall came and teacher Fromm asked for the bill father gave it to him. Mr. Fromm had earlier shown that he was miserly, and so he said that he thought that the bill was much too high. I was in the next room and could hear everything. Mr. Fromm said: “No, Mr. Lietz, such a high bill I absolutely cannot show the school board .” They talked for a time and father shows him the individual prices for everything, should he himself take a loss. But Mr. Fromm remained adamant that the bill was too high to show the school board. Finally I can hear that father is upset and he said: “Well how much would you pay?” “Only half” said Fromm and father agreed, and Fromm put the money on the table, took the bill marked paid, and left. When I came into the room, father was sitting there with a very pale face. I told him, “Well, if you let the people treat you like this, what is the end effect. Now he will think, that you did try to swindle him.” But father said, “I wanted to shame him. I am never going to work for him again.”

I am a little early with this story since it happened in later years. First I want to tell you how it happened that our beautiful garden got into disrepair. Among father’s customers was an old curmudgeon, named Harras, who was a rich man. He owned several houses in the city. He had been a very popular piano teacher and owner of a music store and had earned a fortune. He did not know whom he should leave the money when he died, since he was in his late 70s. It was told that he grudged his poor relatives the money, therefore he wanted to give it to some cause so that his name Harras would still be known in later years. The elders of the city, to whom he listened, encouraged him to build something for the city. Thus he started to build two schools on the outside of the city that he wanted to give to the city. But in line with his stinginess, it should be done as cheaply as possible; thrift was his motto. Father got a good amount of work, but had to do everything as cheaply as possible.

Since Mr. Harras came often to the house to discuss everything, he did figure another angle to save money. So he said to father: “You have so much ground around the house and the yard, which does not make any money. Why can’t I leave the construction material here. Everything will be safe here and nothing will be stolen. Your big dog is a good guard and the gate is always closed. In exchange I could give piano lessons to your children, they should be learning music.” Father, who loved music above all, agreed to this happily. We bought an old piano for 40 Rubel and he started with sister Mila. Harras came twice a week for lessons. The boys had no desire for music lessons and sister Mila seemed to have difficulties learning the secrets of piano playing. Mr. Harras often became very impatient with her and then used his favorite phrase: “She stands there like an ox in front of a mountain.”

I was at that point not even 9, but when Mr. Harris came and the playing started, I stood at the half open door. The teacher must have noticed me, and so he said one day to father: “With the big one is not much progress, but the little one, who always stands by the door and listens, seems to have a sense for music. I will try it with her.” And so it was my turn. Until then I had not learned much, except a little bit of reading. I was not going to school, since they were saving the money for school on me, the youngest. The older children were supposed to teach me. But they did not have much patience with me and always said I was too dumb. How should I now deal with music theory? Half, quarter, and sixteenth notes did not make any sense to me. However I had a good sense of pitch and timing and just played and usually hit the right notes. I did not need to be pushed to practice. Most of the time I was sitting at the piano and played. The strong master never used the comparison with an ox at the mountain with me. To father he said, “That one has the right stuff. With good instruction she can get somewhere. You need to send her to a conservatory in a foreign country when she is older.” Well that was easily said, if the means had been there. Friend Harras, since he was rich, could have easily given me a stipend, but he was not that magnanimous. This would not have been something that a lot of people would have heard about.

But how did our yard and garden outside appear? Oh my, approximately ten times a day the gate was opened and wagons with construction material, cement, lime bricks, boards, rafters, and whatever deposited all that somewhere for storage. Dust and dirt was everywhere. As protection against rain and snow father built a little lean-to against the house. Mother who dried clothes on the other side also used it as a passageway. And once when she just had walked through the lean-to, it collapsed behind her. She almost was smashed dead, and was lucky to get away with a bad scare. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Scenes with father about this nonsense we had had before. But now she insisted, that she wanted yard and garden cleaned. This was already the second year, the buildings of the Harras-school where almost finished and the leftover material together with the junk and dirt were gotten rid off. However, our ruined garden never recovered. Master Harras, of course, lost the desire to teach us, and excused himself with his high age. So that was the end of my first music period. And who still remembers Mr. Harras? And the endowments he made? All the schools now have different names. And the good Mr. Harras lies forgotten in the cemetery. When I sometimes walk past his neglected grave, I involuntarily think of the words of Peter Roseggers in his poem about everything transitory: “The bones scattered, the headstone weather-beaten, the house moldered away, the works broken, who knows our traces in the great, colossal nature in which we lived? New people fight a new fate, none thinks back to the old ones.”

After the Harras-invasion our garden unfortunately never recovered. We did not have the time to bring it back and father had other plans. The cottage in which we lived proved to be too small, since we kids were growing up. Therefore father added a larger addition. It was now easier to borrow money since the advent of mortgages that now were available. Father also hoped to sell off the garden which was the larger part of the property and had fronted the street. That happened after a few years, when a solid buyer, the bricklayer master Rille, bought the property for 2000 Rubel. Everything advanced a little bit at a time and we soon moved into the new addition.

Father did not only work for himself but always was there for others with advice and help. There was for instance Mrs. Louise Martinsohn had the big dream to have her own big house. But since she was living a quiet secluded life, she did not know how to go about getting the house. Her husband was no help with just a construction project, he only worked on his job and brought home the money. Therefore she put her whole trust in “Uncle Lietz”, whom she admired. He knew how to organize everything according to her wishes. He found a big empty lot on the side of a street. She had some saved money, and took out a mortgage and the big hoped-for house soon was there and they could move in. Unfortunately, she herself did not enjoy the property very long. She always had been weak and sickly and now it was found that her sickness was consumption. Soon her dead body was carried out of her big house. It was peculiar, but her husband died almost a year later from typhoid. And so the four daughters became orphans.

Uncle Lietz had to take up the honorary job of guardianship. He exercised this position unselfishly and did not rest, until the youngest daughter, Lonny, had finished her schooling. Only then did he give permission to sell the house and the heirs could split the income. His guardianship, however, did not go without a contest and some difficulty. His wards always were happy and thankful with the way Uncle Lietz arranged everything, even though he always preached thriftiness.

The eldest, Wilhelmine, married a teacher Braunstein. He was a firebrand and revolutionary, found that everything was old-fashioned, and thought that a guardian should only come from the educated class. He sent a charge to the court in charge of orphans complaining that the guardians were incompetent and should be dismissed. The second guardian was old Mr. Strauss who was only a strawman – a zero. The complaint of teacher Braunstein was sent from the court to father and after a certain time, a judgment was to be rendered. Both parties had to appear in court. This was an occasion where brother Christoph could earn his laurels. He wrote for father the defense brief, which he did very successfully. He refuted in detail every one of the complaints, which in part were laughable. This brief was sent to the court. When the day came when accuser and defendant appeared before court, teacher Braunstein had already brought a substitute, also a teacher named Fromm – a brother of the one that had cheated father. However, the accusers were immediately turned down and had to leave with long faces. One of the justices of the court asked father later which lawyer had written his defense brief? So father modestly answered: “That was my son, I do not have a lawyer.” And the justice answered: “Well, why don’t you let your son study. He has the aptitude.” The brief had been kept for many years, as a keepsake, and it always was edifying. However, it finally disappeared; I am still unhappy about that.

Teacher Braunstein avoided us for some time, and also influenced his wife against us. However, after a few years, everything was smoothed over. Father was not vindictive, if someone realized that he had been wrong. They respected Uncle Lietz as before and came to ask for his advice in many things. The other wards married the young merchants Feldmann and Trofimow, and helped them with their inheritance to buy their own businesses and after a while became rich. Only the youngest sister, Lonny, remained unmarried. All three of younger ones have passed away, only my friend Braunstein is still there and it is a solace that we two still have each other.