I have decided to write down what I can remember of my childhood and later years as a child, young woman, wife, mother and now grandmother. The earlier memories will of necessity be rather sketchy and limited as sometimes you think you remember something which has in fact been told to you repeatedly by other people. I was born on the 27th April 1917 (and I don't remember anything about it, although I was there!) on the Haarlemmerplein in Amsterdam. My father (Pa) was Paul Jagerman , the son of a businessman, who started with very little and ended up with three shops. Paul Jagerman was a tinsmith who worked for his father. My mother (Moe) was Joanna Beynes, and her father worked as an engineer in the Bridge building business. Because of his work, the family moved from place to place and my mother had lived in different places all over the country. Pa had finished his schooling with 6th grade, but Moe did not get further than 3 ^rd grade. Pa earned fl. 12 per week when he married. However, when grandfather decided to retire, the three shops were handed to his three sons. They had to buy out the fourth son who didn't want to be a shopkeeper and became a funeral director instead. My father's shop on the corner of Haarlemmerplein and Korte Marnixstraat was only a small one, with living quarters behind the shop. Pa had to pay ƒ. 4000 to his father for the shop and he paid this amount off in two years out of the profits of the business. The store sold crockery, kitchenware, stoves, heaters, electrical goods, nickel ware, etc. Pa and Moe worked hard all their lives and the business went well. The floor space became enlarged when a cinema next door became available and Pa added this on to his property; also the flats above the store were bought. I remember Moe, already grey-haired, sitting in her little office with windows all around it, receiving money, writing dockets, talking to people, keeping an eye on things. She was the one who actually ran the business. Pa always stayed in the background; he was not a businessman. He worked with his hands, doing repairs and doing improvements to the store. Moe bought stock and decided on prices and sale strategies. Several shop assistants were employed and I still have a postcard sent to me by one of them. My brothers Jacques and Joh also worked in the store, and at St. Nicolaas time when it was really busy, To (my sister) - who can only have been 14 or 15 years old at the time - and Siny were also recruited to help. There are little things I remember from that time: looking out on to the 'Plein' and seeing St. Nicolaas and black Peter pass by in a horse-drawn carriage and children running alongside and yelling. I remember my parents’ 25th wedding anniversary (I was only 3½ at that time) and I have a picture in my mind of Siny being lifted up on the shoulders of some young men and carried around. I didn't know that it was all in fun and I screamed because I thought they were hurting her (she probably screamed too!) I was very attached to Siny, who - since her parents, who were my parents' friends, had died - spent a great deal of time with our family and was like a sister to me, which she eventually became when she married my brother Jacques. However Jacques and Siny were 20 years older than I was. When Siny and Jacques married, they lived in one of the flats above the store and I remember standing at the window, behind the curtains, at night when all was dark and the lights on the Plein were on. There was the man who sold "Berliner Bollen", a sort of doughnut. He pushed his little barrow and shouted: "Verse Berliner Bollen". Siny always said that he shouted "Verse Berliner Bol; Koop ze niet want ze zijn hol". But I did not really believe that. On the opposite side of the Plein was a hoarding, showing an advertisement for Ripolin paint. A man with a brush in his hand and a straw boater on his head, painting the word "Ripolin" on the back of the man in front. Little man after little man, doing the same thing ad infinitum. Would there ever be an end to this procession? How many men would there be? It was the same with van Houten's Cacao tins. A nurse, carrying a tray with a tin of "van Houten's Verpleegster Cacao", and on this tin another nurse with a tray with a tin etc. etc. I was very intrigued by those things. Then there was Siny's little niece Annie, one year younger than I. I called Siny by her Christian name, because after all she was my sister-in-law. But she was Annie's aunt. Annie always begged to be allowed to call her aunt ‘Siny’ by her Christian name whenever we were there together. It was during this time that Joh (who always had grand ideas) decided that what the catholic community in the parish needed, was a catholic library. So he bought lots of books and opened in a room in the Korte Marnixstraat a library called "Inter Nos". For years afterwards we had still books in the house from this library, all of which I read later, but the whole venture was a flop as were so many things which Joh undertook. He also established a musical group, piano, cello and violin. He himself played the violin. But this also did not last very long. Then in the early twenties, we had the depression. Apart from that, Pa had heavily invested in the setting up of a bank, which went broke, and he lost a lot of money. It was decided that Pa and Moe should retire and that the two sons should take over the business. They were only 22 and 26 at the time and I can not now imagine how they could have taken this decision. As it turned out, the boys’ inexperience, their incompatibility and the depression soon made an end to the whole thing.

 

But before all this happened, we moved to Bussum. Pa still had enough money at that stage and decided to buy a villa in Bussum. He paid ƒ. 25.000 for it, which was a large sum in those days. He also invested money in building 13 houses in Hilversum with the idea that these should bring him an income. However there was a slump in housing and the houses were more often empty than occupied. After only a few years the business in Amsterdam went broke, Pa had to sell the houses in Hilversum as well as the house in Bussum and with what was left, he moved the whole family (including Jacques and Siny) to Zandvoort. This was only a temporary measure, to give him time to work out what to do next. The house in Bussum is still there at 52 Nieuwe Hilversumseweg and I saw it again in 1979- It must have been the year 1922 when Pa bought this villa. Jacques and Siny were married while we lived in Bussum. I still have a photo of the dinner, but I can't really remember very much about it. I have a letter, written by Moe, in which she tells Jacques that she and Pa had decided to pay for the car to take them from Bussum to Amsterdam, "Je gaat fijn in een luxe auto van Bussum naar Amsterdam!" As already said, Siny and Jacques went to live in Amsterdam above the store on the Plein. As our relations were all city dwellers, we often had visitors. Especially during the Christmas period the house was always full. I remember the occasion when Moe's sister, Tante Anna, came to stay and several other people besides. It was a white Christmas and the snow was thick in the garden. My brothers had a bobsled, pulled by a rope, and they took everyone in turn for a ride around the grounds, tearing the thing around corners and spilling the occupants in the snow. Tante Anna was also persuaded to have a go and was promptly thrown in the snow. Moe did not approve of such behaviour, as she was more conscious of her dignity. I was always glad when Aunt Anna came, because she brought me a roll of chocolates, Bensdorp's Melkmeisje. One of Pa's sisters, Tante Riek, also came now and then. She was housekeeper to a parish priest in the country, and when she came to visit, she always brought To and me a fancy paper bag full of "bruidsuikers", which were given by bridal couples to hand to the altar boys. Sometimes she had more bags than boys and kept them to give to her nieces and nephews. This was always a cause of great merriment among us. We also had a dog in Bussum. I have always been very fond of animals and whether it was for my pleasure or for some other reason I don't know, but it was decided that we should have a dog. Pa took me to the railway station one day, to get the dog he had bought in the city. I expected a big dog, but it was only a puppy in a wooden box. But the puppy grew into a beautiful and big German Shepherd. Talking about dogs: We had an "olieman" who called every week to change the empty petroleum cans for full ones. Although we had gas for cooking, petroleum was used as well for "simmering" kind of cooking. The olieman's little barrow was drawn by a big black Labrador, which I found most interesting. There was obviously no RSPCA around in those days. We also had chickens. One of my cousins, who was my age and came from the inner city of Amsterdam, was very interested in how chooks lay eggs. He used to sit in front of the chicken coop and talk to the stupid animals. "Kom kip, leg nou eens 'n ei" (come on chook, lay an egg), which caused great hilarity. My sister To (10 years my senior) was a happy-go-lucky and rather attractive girl and this caused her to have many admirers, much to the discomfiture of Moe, who thought she was much too young. We are here talking about Bussum and To would have been 16 or 17. She would meet her current boyfriend in town while doing shopping for Moe on the pushbike. Whenever she went out on the bike, I wanted to go with her, sitting on the carrier, but she did not always want to take me. I must have been a dreadful child. So To used to spell out to Moe that she wanted to go, in the hope that I would not understand: Moe mag ik fietsen and Moe would say, "ja kind ga maar", but I soon found out what this was all about. On occasions Moe would insist that To take me and then we might meet a boy in town. He would give me lollies on condition that I would not tell my mother. I promised, but did not always keep that promise under close questioning from Moe (as I said before, I must have been a dreadful child). One of the boyfriends had a sports car and when To went with him for a ride and they had to pass our house, she would crouch down on the floor of the car, for fear that Moe might see her. All these things came out later when we laughed about it. Yes, things happened in those days. To also played the piano quite well, she had a good ear for music and a flair for playing. When a new hit came out, she could play it. We got our first Pathéphone (record player) while in Bussum and what a joy that was. Also in Bussum we had our first experience of wireless radio (de draadloze radio). Pa, while supervising the building of the houses in Hilversum, had met one of the workmen who had a crystal set and had heard the first crackly sounds. He brought the thing home and we were all amazed at this new invention. I had a little friend living next door in Bussum. His name was Tonny Strak van Schijndel, a name which indicates that they belonged to the upper class. I was very amazed when he showed me around their house and I found that his Mum and Dad had separate bedrooms. I thought that very strange and told my mother so. She didn't say what she thought of it. On the other side lived another boy whose name was Jurry Daniels. What I liked about him was that he had a Meccano set and he made cranes and bridges that could turn and go up and down. I was very envious! I was always much more interested in Boys toys. I also enjoyed going with Moe to Church. Sometimes we went to Benediction on great feast days when there was a procession, with candles, bells and altar boys swinging thuribles and the choristers singing "Hosanna Filio David". Moe used to let me stand on the seat so I could see it all.

While Pa was selling all his property and we had to wait for things to be finalised, a house was rented in Zandvoort. It was late summer. The house was still there in 1974 at 57 Kortenaerstraat. Here I went to school for the first time. Moe had kept me at home until the time that I had to go to school. I don't know for what reason she waited so long, because I certainly had the wish to go, if only to learn to read! I can still see myself sitting at her feet and saying, "If only I could read, I wouldn't be so bored". I started school during the school year and the sister kept me in after school to help me to catch up. Pa took me to school and collected me afterwards and sometimes he took me to the beach in the "strandcar", a wooden contraption on 4 wheels, which was popular in those days. Sometimes Pa would take his fishing line. It had little hooks at regular intervals. At one end he would tie a stone, then he rolled up his trouser legs and would walk into the surf as far as he could go and then throw the stone with the line as far as it would go. After a while he would pull the line in and was happy if here and there the hooks were occupied by an undersized flounder! During this time Jacques and Joh were unemployed and Jacques and Siny had moved in with us. There was some bad feeling between Moe and Siny. Siny, being a 27-year-old woman, was too flighty and behaved as if she were still a young unattached girl like To. She always tried to attract men and apparently was successful. All this became clear to me much later of course. Siny was treated in every way as a daughter by my parents. If To was given a fur coat, so was Siny.... that sort of thing. For us it was a nice time in Zandvoort; for my parents it must have been a time of worry about the future and two sons without a job.

 

After about 6 months we moved back to Amsterdam again. We settled in a flat on the first floor above a shop owned by my father's brother-in-law, uncle Antoon Bierman. The two floors above the shop were empty. There were many houses standing empty in those days. While we were living there I attended a school in the Banstraat, also Grade I. There were really two schools, one for those who could pay and the other for the 'poor'. The playgrounds were divided by a wall. This must have been the last such school, as I have never since heard of anything similar. During my time at this school I did my first H. Communion at Sacred Heart Church in the Vondelstraat. I was given a gold watch on this occasion but it was too big and too valuable for me to wear and disappeared later to the pawnshop, as I describe in the 'Diemen' section. I was the oldest girl in the First Communion class, which I found a bit embarrassing. Because I started school so late, I was one year behind all the time, although I was by no means 'dull'. We only lived at this address for a short time, I think, because I was still in Grade I when we moved to...

 

Ouddiemerlaan 57, where we lived for the next 3 years. Diemen was a small rural municipality, bordering on Amsterdam. It was really a village with one main street and smaller streets running off it with ditches (sloten) on both sides and farms with cows and sheep. Pa bought a two-storey house, semi-detached, for fl. 7.500. Downstairs it had two rooms en-suite and a kitchen and upstairs were the bedrooms. It had more attic rooms under the sloping roof. In front of the house was a 'sloot' with a little footbridge over it. However, Joh insisted that this narrow bridge should be replaced with a wider one, which would take a car. The bridge was replaced but the car never came. Pa had bought a bottling business in the Jordaan in Amsterdam (mainly to create a job for Joh). This again turned out to be a failure. Joh was happy to drive around in the van to deliver orders, but Pa had to do all the work and in the end he sold out again and then the downward trend really set in. In Diemen I went to the Parish school which was a mixed school with lay teachers. I attended there for three years and still remember the names of the teachers. Mr. Snyders was the headmaster and he also was director of the church choir. There was Mr. v. d. Berg, who threw pieces of chalk at you if you didn't pay attention. You had to bring the chalk back to him and you were given a talking to. Mr. de Rijk was rumoured to indulge in corporal punishment, but since this was forbidden in Dutch schools, I am not sure that this was really true. He was the Grade 6 teacher, so I have no way of knowing for sure. I played marbles, spent a cent on 'drop' or a 'koningsbroodje' in the little 'snoepwinkel', and played with 'priktol' and 'zweeptol'. I was never much good at the skipping rope. I made a few friends and life was all right. I did well at school and was always among the top three of the class. At the back of our house in Diemen were paddocks with cows, and sometimes a few sheep. The farmer next door was called Zytveld and I remember going with Moe and To to visit there once. We were received by the farmer's wife (boerin) who was still wearing the typical dress with lace cap and gold ear casques. We drank coffee in the front room which was clearly only used for special occasions. The windows had shutters outside and blinds on the inside which were half drawn and made the room rather dark. A big Bible had pride of place on the table. I remember feeling uncomfortable. It must have been winter because the cows were 'op stal' in the cowsheds which we saw when being shown around. The friendship between Moe and the boerin came about because of their common interest in a neighbour, Mrs. Kramer, who was very ill and dying. Mr. Kramer was a horsemeat butcher (paardenslager) in Amsterdam. Moe used to go and look after Mrs. Kramer, washing and changing the bed and such things until the lady became so ill that she had to go to hospital in Amsterdam where she eventually died. I used to go and sit with Mrs. Kramer after school sometimes. They did not have children and she liked me to visit her and she gave me sweets. Mr. Kramer was also very nice to me and sometimes took me fishing at the Merwede Canal. He took his bike and I sat in front of him on the cross bar. He was a rough diamond and had served in the colonial army in the Netherlands East Indies. He still had his sabre and shortly after they moved into the house next door, he upset Moe who was looking out the window, by wildly slashing around with his sabre in an effort to cut the long grass. Our cat was also a regular visitor next door where he stole the meat from the neighbour's cat who was no longer interested in horse beefsteaks! I sometimes was invited to tea when Mr. Kramer fried big steaks and I loved it. This of course was also horse meat but in Holland people do not worry about this so much. It was surprising how two such different people could ever have married. She was a very gentle person with a deep faith who accepted her sufferings. She was a convert to the catholic faith and as so often happens, the more her faith deepened, the less he was interested. When Mrs. Kramer went to hospital the boerin and Moe decided they would go and visit her together. So one day, Zytveld's son came with the gig and both women somehow got into this contraption. We all thought it a great joke (not in front of the boerin though). I don't think they went all the way to Amsterdam in the gig, but probably only as far as the 'stoomtram' which would have taken them into town. My mother at this time aged from 49 to 52 years. She looked much older however, because her hair was white and she had great difficulty with walking. Shoes had to be especially made for her because of bunions (eeltknobbels) on her feet. She was also soon out of breath and it was a real problem for her to walk to Mass on Sundays. I would walk with her and she would lean on me. Pa had rented a seat for her right near the pulpit (this renting of seats is now a thing of the past fortunately). I recall sitting next to her on cold days and resting my head against her fur coat, which was such a warm and comforting feeling! On the other side of us, with a paddock in between, there lived an elderly couple called v. Manen and they had a daughter who became friendly with To. The mother had had a cigar and tobacco shop on the Dapperplein in Amsterdam. When they arrived and we didn't know them yet, Moe was a bit disconcerted to see Mrs. v. Manen sitting on the back steps smoking! That was quite unheard of, especially when the lady was of advanced age. Later they often came in the afternoon and played cards. On one such occasion it was mentioned that I had a gold watch and Pa was asked to show it to the ladies. However, when Pa opened his little chest, where he kept valuables, the watch was not there. It was awkward and I don't know what Moe said to her visitors. It turned out that Joh had been short of money and had put the watch in the 'lommerd'. This was not the first time that something like that had happened. Pa enjoyed working in the garden and Moe had to salt down the beans and andyvie he grew. He always peeled the potatoes for Moe. This was called 'aardappelen jassen', taking the coats of the potatoes! I remember him as a very quiet man and in my eyes he knew the answers to all questions. He was never too tired to play with me, do card tricks, play board games, etc. In Diemen he built a sunroom at the back of the house, using glass windows from the Haarlemmerplein shop. Apart from having the wooden poles driven in by a professional he did the rest all by himself. I was an interested onlooker by all that went on and I played with the putty he gave me, making it into cows and then cutting off pieces, wrapping them into paper and selling 'sausages' to Moe. Sometimes my school friend Ali Spils would come and we would play shops together. I also had friends among the boys in the neighbourhood - after all it was a mixed school we all went to. I played with the Goedhart boys and we fished in the ditches and caught sticklebacks and tadpoles (donderkopjes) while lying on our tummies on the bridges over the "sloten". Once Anton Goedhart fell in and when we pulled him out he still had his cap and clogs on! 'I usually walked home with Jan Keyzer after school. His father had a little farm further on towards Oud-Diemen. On our way to and from school we had to pass by a Protestant school and sometimes there were fights between the "Roomsen en Protestanten". They used to taunt us and call us names because we were Catholics. Then off came the elastic belts with metal buckles. Then there was the haymaking when the horse-drawn carts, loaded high with hay, rumbled past our house. The farmer's kids were sitting on top to the envy of us all. The road was narrow and the hay was caught on the tree branches all along the road. There were hardly any motorcars as yet. This was 1926/27. I once went to one of the farms and we played in the haystack (hooimijt). These 'mijts' had adjustable thatched roofs and in the middle, on the inside of the roof, there was a long, thick rope hanging down, I don't know for what purpose. The boys used to swing backwards and forwards to land in the hay. I didn't because I was always a bit afraid of these sorts of things.

 

From Diemen we moved back to Amsterdam again, I don't know for what reason. We seemed to be moving house all the time and this time we went to live on the first floor of 19 Frederik Hendrikstraat, above a bakery shop. I often had to buy bread there and remember the price, which was 17 cents a loaf. The shop was still there in 1983. I had to go to a new school and my parents chose the St. Ignatiusschool on the Egelantiersgracht, run by the sisters from Tilburg (Zusters van Liefde), although the Parish school was closer. It was a deliberate choice because they thought it was a better school. My mother took me the first day and I was enrolled in grade 4. The school had 3 floors and our classroom was at the top where we looked out over the roofs of the Jordaan. There was a pigeon fancier whom we could see as his head appeared from his attic window, when he whistled for his pigeons. We could hear the street singers. Anyone unemployed or disabled and wanting to sing or make music in the streets and collect money, had to have a licence from the City Council. Sometimes these singers accompanied themselves on the squeeze box and they sold the text of their ballads for a few cents. One I remember well played the ocarina. Then there were of course the barrel organs; hearing those always gave me a happy feeling and I especially loved to see the little puppets on the organ, moving to the rhythm of the music. Then there were the 'bruggetrekkers'. In Amsterdam some of the bridges over the canals are very steep, because barges have to pass underneath. As bakers, milkmen, greengrocers, fish vendors, etc. did their trade with wheelbarrows', it was often a problem for them to push their heavily laden carts over the top of these bridges. Near our school was such a bridge, and there was a little, bent old man with a rope with a hook on it, who for a few cents would put his hook on to the cart, take the rope over his shoulder and so help drag the cart ever the bridge. One famous character was called 'Kikkie the Bruggetrekker'. At this school I struck up a close friendship with Bep Mittelmeyer, who lived around the corner and was in the same class. I spent more and more time at her place after my mother died. She had 2 brothers and 2 sisters and her mother was expecting another baby at the time. Bep was the eldest child and we got on very well together. We spent much time walking to and from school together and we had deep discussions. She later went to teachers college and after having worked as a teacher at our old school (St. Ignatius) went into the convent when she turned 21 and her father could no longer stop her.  

 

During my time at St. Ignatius school we again moved house, this time to the Hoofddorpplein 35 in Amsterdam West. This was a new housing division in what was called Plan West. One of the hits on the radio was:

Pa had rented a shop and we were going to open a wine and bottle shop. We lived in the flat above the shop. The business was called "De Drie Jagers" because of the name Jagerman. The business did not prosper. What I remember most vividly was one very cold winter's day when we woke up one morning to find that all the bottles of soft drink and mineral water in the window display had frozen and burst their tops, and the contents were hanging in the form of icicles on the outside of the bottles. I had turned 12 by that time and learned to ride my sister's bicycle in one of the yet unfinished side streets of the Plein. Moe decided not to take me out of my present school, which was just as well as we went back to live in 'old' west Amsterdam again. While at Hoofddorpplein, To met Louis Hulscher and I was not impressed when one evening he arrived on his motorbike to take To out and did not even notice me. It turned out that he didn't think I belonged to the family. His parents, who knew our family from the time we lived at the Haarlemmerplein, were quite certain that there had only been one daughter.... To had been engaged previously, when we lived at Frederik Hendrikstraat, but that engagement had been broken off, because he liked the bottle too much. I admired the first boyfriend, because he could stand on his head, but the second one gave me sometimes a ride on his Ariel motorbike, which was very nice too! After this unsuccessful try to make a living, my parents decided to go back to our original district again.

 

This was the last place my mother had to move to. She became very ill. The financial situation became desperate. Joh tried different agencies and did a lot of travelling throughout the country, which he seemed to enjoy, but there was not much to show for it afterwards. As a matter of fact, it mostly ended in disaster. He sold such divergent articles as confectionery and religious statues as well as other things I can't remember. It started always as something fantastic but in the end it was no good. He also got engaged to a lovely girl, Leny Drieman, but she gave up in the end, as he seemed unable to earn himself a living. Joh was a person I never could understand. I was too young. He was 16 years older than I. He was very good to me - he was good and generous to everyone. He wanted to give expensive presents, even if he did not have the money. He wanted to be loved and admired. My mother spoilt him and covered up for him, when things went wrong. Pa paid up to keep him out of trouble. It is all very sad and he died in 1961 lonely and without friends, To being the only one to go and see him and follow him when he was buried. The other person at his funeral was his landlady. Jacques was different, more like Pa. He was reliable, honest, scrupulous in all his dealings. However, as I look back now and Jacques and Siny are no longer with us, I realise that their marriage was not a happy one. They never had children. Siny embarrassed Jacques in many ways. She had many man friends, which at the time I didn't see as strange, but which I now see as being most unseemly, although I am sure that nothing untoward ever happened. She was very good to me and I loved her very much. We got on very well together and I spent much time with them. Jacques died in 1946, aged 48, and Siny remarried Albert Koster a few years later. She died in 1975 and Dad and I saw her in 1974, first in the Titus Brandsma Home in Utrecht and then in hospital after she had had a heart attack. I had no idea that my mother's illness was so serious; I was only 13 at the time and Moe was 55- On the night she died, the priest came to anoint her and we were all kneeling around her bed. By 12 midnight I was sent to bed and when I woke next day I was told that Moe had died shortly after I went to bed. The funeral people came and hung the room with black drapes and placed big candles near the coffin, which spread their soft light on the face of our mother. People came to pay their respects, people we had not seen for years, people who had been our friends when my parents had money, but who had forgotten us when there was none left. They said a prayer at the "Profundis" and offered their condolences to the family, and were then given a cup of coffee. I was in grade 6 at the time. In my last year at school Sr. Octavia, the headmistress had offered to take me also as a student for the kweekschool (teachers college) together with Bep. However, Siny and Jacques (my father seems to have taken no further part in the decisions regarding my upbringing) objected on the grounds that -even though tuition would be free, there would still be other expenses and money was scarce. I had to get a job! Sr. Octavia gave me the address of a firm where they needed an office girl (on the cheap I suppose). The name was van Raalte & ten Have, at Oude Zijds Voorburgwal. It was a wholesale business in kitchenware. It was a two-man business, one in the office and one on the road. I had to make the coffee, open the door, buy lunch for the boss, sometimes answer the phone and type invoices with two fingers. I had never so much as seen a typewriter, but he gave me a piece of paper and said, "Try it until you can do it". There was not much for me to do and I hated every minute I spent there. The salary was ƒ. 10 per month. I looked at the clock to see the hands creep slowly forward and looked out the window, at the boats passing through the canal, at the people who were 'free' walking on the other side. Now this district is the 'red' area of Amsterdam and it is not advisable to walk there after dark. I must have told them at home how I hated it there. Sometimes when the boss had to go out, his wife would come and sit there, knitting, and keeping an eye on me. I was desperately unhappy! However, I was only there for a few months, when Louis - who had spoken to his sister Netty - found me another job. Netty was bookkeeper at Ferwerda & Tieman, a firm importing wine and bottling it and retailing through their 30 odd outlets throughout the country. They had an office and extensive cellars on the Weesperzijde 55-58, near the river Amstel. There were 9 people working in the office and I was the 10th and the youngest. My job was to assist Miss Benjamin at the telephone switchboard and do some simple typing. I was shy and frightened in this new environment and did not feel up to the work. I made many mistakes at first, but I improved and stayed there for 3 years, from age 14 to 17- Miss Benjamin taught me how to handle the phone and Mr. Veltkamp showed me the mysteries of the Gestetner. Price lists and other information had to go to the depots and sub-depots. Mr. Veltkamp would cut the stencils and put them on the machine and I had to run them off. This was a machine you had to turn by hand and put the ink on the roller from a tube, like toothpaste. The three of us were in a kind of annex to the general office and there were glass doors separating us from the rest of the office. Many deep discussions took place between Mr. Veltkamp who belonged to the Reformed Church and Miss Benjamin who was a socialist. She had s brother-in-law (Dr. Jaap Kruyt) who had written a dissertation for his Dr's degree called "De Onkerkelijkheid in Nederland". In the course of his research he had interviewed many priests and ministers of religion and Greet Benjamin was very much influenced by him. She later married a schoolteacher and moved to Doesburg and actually became a member of a protestant church as I heard later. One thing we had in common was our love of music. She had a very nice voice and sang in Toonkunst, which is a prestigious choir which has strict auditions before you are accepted. Each year they perform the Mattheus Passion by Bach with the Concertgebouw Orchestra. The son of our boss, young Mr. Wybren Ferwerda, was also a member of this choir. I learned a lot at Ferwerda & Tieman, earned fl. 40 per month and after initial difficulties, was reasonably happy there. It was during this time that I met my first boyfriend. He worked in the same area in the same sort of firm - Bicker & Modderman -who traded more in spirits. The young man's name was Andre Rooswinckel and he waited for me after work and rode home with me on the bike. He always wore a hat and looked rather insipid and was a real pen pusher (pennelikker). I did not know quite how to behave or rather how to get rid of him. During lunchtime we walked along the water's edge of the Amstel River. When the Grail had a performance in the Stadsschouwburg, he asked me for tickets. He wanted to take me. When I talked to Jacques and Siny about this I was rather taken aback by their reaction. Jacques said, "Is this starting now already. We have had all this boys trouble with To and now you start". (I was 16 at the time). The result was that Andre had to pick me up at their home and since Jacques and Siny were also going out that night, he had to return me to Jacques on the Leidse Plein after the performance at 11 p.m. However, the thing we went to see was over by 10 p.m. so Andre suggested to go somewhere and we did go to a Cafe to have something to drink. He acted like a man of the world, I thought, smoked a cigar and ordered beer. I probably had an orange juice. We sat and talked. Then we walked back to the Plein and met Jacques and Siny there and I think that after this the friendship fizzled out. My memory is a bit vague there. I remember that he left a bottle of Eau de Cologne in my bike bag on my birthday and I was teased by my colleagues. Bicker & Modderman had big cellars in another part of the City on the "Burgwallen" and Andre took me there once, because he had something to pick up from the old building. Afterwards he showed me around the huge cellars but he impressed upon me that I should not tell anyone that he had taken me there. I was so green that I did not understand why it was so important that nobody should know After I had worked for three years at Ferwerda & Tieman, the firm merged with the firm of Oud & Zoon in Haarlem and only a few of us transferred there. In the meantime we had moved again, not far though, to 22 Zaagmolenstraat, which was definitely a come-down as far as area was concerned. From this house (I was 16) To left to get married to Louis. It was in February 1933 and Siny had made me buy a new silky dress in a mauve colour. It was very cold weather and I hated the dress. However it was a big wedding with dinner and dancing. Louis had a brother who was a genius in writing lyrics to the hits of the day and for example, on the tune of "Das ist die Liebe der Matrosen", he wrote: Hoezee voor onze Lou en Tootie Leef gelukkig blijf gezond Klinkt het nu van mond tot mond Hoezee voor onze Lou en Tootje Dat het jullie nu voortaan Maar altijd voor de wind mag gaan A1 komt er crisis in je leven A1 zijn de tijden nog zo slecht Als jullie van elkaar blijft houden Heus dan wordt je nooit verkouden Dan komt alles wel terecht. It was now 1934 and times were bad. Many people were out of work. I wrote many letters of application and had some interviews. At last I received an answer from Numan's Blikfabrieken, giving me an appointment for an interview. It was a long time after I had written the application. I found out later that a girl had been engaged with excellent references, but when she started work she could not read back her shorthand and so she had to leave. I was therefore really second choice. When I arrived on the Haarlemmerweg 325 Amsterdam, I was interviewed by a woman, who was in charge of the correspondence department, where I was to be the typist/ stenographer. There was no indication that this meeting with this woman would change the course of my life. I got the job in this business which employed about 350 people in their factory. There was an office in the factory itself with the manager and his assistant; there was a bookkeeping department with about 8 people and the correspondence department with 5 people. The building was old and awful and very cold in winter. Mr. Numan was one of those old-fashioned Liberal bosses: you either worked hard or got the sack. I was paid ƒ 40 per month to start with. I had to take down letters in shorthand, type them, put them in a book and Miss Goeman (that was her name) would sign them at the end of each day. There were difficulties in the beginning as I made mistakes and Tine Goeman was not known for the patience she displayed in the office. It came to the stage when I was fired. After a few days she called me into the private office and asked me if I had told my father that I was going to lose my job. I hadn't. Then she offered to give me a second chance and from then on it went better and I worked myself into a good and trusted position in charge of the office, when Mr. Numan died and Tine Goeman became the boss. I stayed there until I was married and expected my first baby (with a short interval to work at Veerman, when the war broke out). After leaving school I had followed night classes at a school for girls run by the Catholic Women's League. Every evening (except Tuesdays, when we all had to go to our sodalities, as decreed by the Bishop) I had lessons from 7 until 10 p.m. and did Dutch Commerce Correspondence, English, German, and stenography. It was difficult, but I finished the three years and got the diploma, after which I continued English and German for which I did the Mercurius exam. During my stay at Numan's Blikfabrieken I got to know Tine much better. She lived with her widowed mother, and after her mother died in March 1934 she was on her own in the flat at 152 Admiralengracht. She had a housekeeper who cleaned and cooked the meals. After a while it was decided that I should move in with her so that it would be easier for Pa to go to St. Bernardus (a home for the aged) which Siny had managed to get Pa into. He stayed there until his death (1957) After this, Joh started to drift a bit. Sometimes we did not hear from him for months and months. During the time I lived with Tine, I made my trip to England, where I was invited to visit my penfriend Kathleen Gildea. It was then 2nd July 1938 and I was 21. Tine accompanied me to Vlissingen (Flushing), where I boarded the boat train to Harwich and from there on to Victoria Station London, where I was met by Kathleen and her fiance Eddy. I spent one week in London and visited the Tower, Westminster Abbey and Westminster Cathedral and also Hampton Court, changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace, etc. She was going to come to Holland the next year, but that never happened because the war broke out.

 

After I moved in with Tine Goeman I became interested in the Maria Vereniging, an abstinence movement, of which Tine was a member. This movement's members abstained from drinking alcohol in reparation for the sins committed as a result of over indulgence. Servio was an offshoot of this Maria Vereniging. It was a group of young people, under the direction of Tine Goeman, who put on one-act plays combined with short pep talks about the scourge of alcohol. The usual thing was that a hall was hired and two one-act plays were performed with a speaker during the interval. No admission was charged, so we usually had a full house. To raise money we had a full-length three-act play once a year for which we charged. There were rehearsals every week and I remember that when the war had already started and we had black outs, that we had to give up eventually and the club never re-formed again. We performed "Daddy long legs", "En Jacob diende", "De Tante uit Indie", "Jessonda" etc. We had good times rehearsing as well as on the stage. Two members of "Servio" were Ries and Kees Dobber. When their brother Freek came on holidays from the Seminary of the Salesians in Belgium, (part of the N. France province) they brought him along and that is how I first set eyes on Fred Dobber, who was to be my husband. One evening we had to perform in Opdam, a little town in the north of North Holland. The problem was that the farmers in the north did not keep summer time. So when we had decided to take the 11 p.m. train back to Amsterdam, we thought we had plenty of time, not realising that we would have to finish before 10 p.m. So, as soon as this could be done conveniently, they let down the curtain, while Harry Uleman and I were still on stage and had just reached the "happy ending" and we were whisked off to the train which someone had managed to keep waiting for a few minutes (these things can be done in the country) and under the railway gates, which one of the men held high for us, we scrambled on to the train, still with our make-up on, to the great hilarity of the engine driver, conductor and fellow travellers and I can still see Dad running along the platform to see in what compartment I was sitting. The war ended this pleasurable time, as it brought to a close so many other enjoyable things. The wartime was grim and dull for us young people.

 

We go back a bit to the Zaagmolenstraat for another involvement I had, this time with the Grail. This was a movement which started in the diocese of Haarlem, and the instigator was Professor J. van Ginneken S.J. He put the movement under the guidance of a religious community of women, called Vrouwen van Nazareth (something similar to the Missionary Sisters of Service). They wore civilian dress and their habit only when in their convent, which was the Tiltenberg. These sisters structured the movement along hierarchical lines, starting with group leaders, house-leaders and going up in higher leadership. They gave these functionaries mythological names, such as: Sybille, Amazone, etc. and the highest leadership belonged to those of the "Tafelronde". The uniform was spectacular for those days, because of what we would now call "psychedelic" colours. Each house had a distinctive uniform. Mine - as a member - was light green blouse, dark green tunic and scarlet short pelerine and beret. There were other, more outrageous colour combinations, like yellow and purple, and orange and green. When I became a group leader I wore a grey silk blouse, dark red tunic, green long cape and grey wide-brimmed hat and red tie with red shoes. As you progressed through the ranks, you went through three grades, all indicated by different badges, and some of the higher ranks were only attainable by the vrouwen van Nazareth. There was also a separate detachment for girls who were student at Uni or in high schools. Siny - who did not like me to join the Grail at first-, tried to get me into that group which was called the Cadets. However I did not qualify and I was glad in a way, because now I could join with other working girls. We had marches through the City streets and carried flags and sang marching songs. Here are some that I remember, showing that the Grail was ahead of its time in wanting women to take their place in community life. Komt op dan, vooruit nu en blaast the trompetten De vrouw wil naast het machtig mannenspoor Ook van haar vrouwenvoet de tere indruk zetten Op het mensenlot alle eeuwen en tijden door Wij hebben ons hoofd niet met stelsels verward Wij voelen de Geest en de Liefde van binnen En dragen den Christus nu vol in ons hart etc. And the Cadets had the following marching song: Wij zijn de Graalcadetten, scharen ons fier om de Graal Kennen geen and're wetten, spreken geen and're taal Meisjes die God willen eren, moeders die haar wensen verstaan Kunnen de wereld bekeren, Zullen den Boze verslaan. There were Mass plays in the stadium in Amsterdam and in Schiedam, with thousands of girls taking part. These were all in the form of speaking choruses and the text for one of them was taken from Thomas a Kempis Imitation of Christ. It was called "The Triumph of the Cross". Another one dealt with the life of a Dutch 14th Century Saint called Lydwina van Schiedam. In the Grail we received excellent Christian training as well as learning to speak in public, to do charitable work and to dance and sing and study.

 

Just before the outbreak of the war in May 1940, I tried to get a job with better pay and opportunities than were available for me at Numan's Blikfabrieken. I landed a job as shorthand typist in Dutch and English at Veerman's Import and Export of porcelain and glass (Orrefors). I had done a course in English shorthand in the meantime. I did quite well for a few months and then the German Army invaded Holland and we were all dismissed because the borders were closed immediately. One girl I worked with at Veerman's was Jewish. Her name was Ans Waterman. After the war when people were trying to trace lost relatives and friends through ads in the newspapers, I saw an ad in our paper as follows: Will anyone knowing the whereabouts of Miss Ans Waterman or has met her in a concentration camp please contact Dr. David Moffie. I received some unemployment benefit for which one had to sign daily at the Labour Exchange. When Dad and I attended the wedding of Oom Ries and Tante Annie in May 1940, we had to leave and go back to the city so I could sign the register. This was called "stempelen". Some time later Tine re-employed me at Numan's. The political situation moved to disaster when the Germans invaded Holland. We had always hoped that our country could stay neutral, as happened in the 1914-18 war. But this was not to be. On Friday 10.5.1940 at about 7 am. Tine woke me up and said, "Come and look outside". We were living at 51 Orteliuskade, which was on the outskirts of Amsterdam, and we could see what was happening on Schiphol. Waves and waves of bombers of the Deutsche Wehrmacht and bombs exploding everywhere. It was frightening We turned on the radio and heard that the Germans had passed the border and from then on there were bulletins every now and then, telling us where they were. Only records were played and they were all French and English. This lasted until the next Tuesday, when the Germans bombed Rotterdam. Tantan's brother was killed on that occasion. The commander of the Dutch army spoke on radio and told the people that it was impossible for the minute Dutch army to hold out any longer against the superior German forces. The Dutch had made a valiant attempt on the "Grebbeberg" but to no avail During those 5 days Queen Wilhelmina and Prince Bernhard had left for London together with the Cabinet. Princess Juliana and her children were already in Canada. The departure of the Queen was not understood by the people, but later it proved to be a wise move. She encouraged us through regular broadcasts on the BBC "Radio Oranje" and this became the source of reliable information and kept up our spirits. The next 5 years were difficult to say the least. Things you thought you couldn't do without, became scarce and food was rationed. In the beginning we thought it couldn't last long, but it dragged on and rumours were rife. There was a curfew and radios had to be handed in. Our radio was removed and hidden in the factory, while Dad constructed something from bits and pieces so we could listen to radio Oranje with earphones. June 29th was Prince Bernhard's birthday and flower sellers everywhere had white carnations for sale. Prince Bernhard always wore one and he still does. People wore them as a sign of defiance to the Germans and loyalty to Oranje. The German Kommandant promptly issued a proclamation that any demonstration in favour of the "House of Orange" or the "Traitor German Prince Bernhard" was prohibited under pain of fine or imprisonment. This did not stop people however. Some planted marigolds in their gardens in the form of a "W" and others called their newborn babies Wilhelmina or Juliana putting big birth notices in the papers. This may all sound childish, but there was nothing ordinary people could do to show their resistance and they were pinpricks that annoyed the Germans and as such were worth the efforts. The bombing raids were terrifying. When at work at Numan's Blikfabrieken, we had to go into the storage cellars each time there was a "luchtalarm". At first we were terribly scared, but gradually we got used to it and listened to the explosions to hear whether these were far away or close by. The factory girls found it a nice break from sitting at their machines and sang songs while sitting on the cement floor in the cellar. Then came the terrible persecution of the Jews. It started with the yellow star they had to wear, then they were barred from public places such as cinemas and theatres, swimming pools etc. Soon the Germans started rounding them up and sending them to Westerbork (30 KM from the German border). We were told that they would be put to work there, which would have been bad enough, treating them as slave labour, but it turned out to be only a halfway house to the gas chambers in Germany! Amsterdam had a large Jewish population, they had found a safe haven in Amsterdam (which they called "the new Jerusalem") after having fled from Spain and Portugal in the 15th century. Many lived in the inner city where they had two synagogues. Some were pedlars and small tradesmen, others - the wealthier ones - lived in Amsterdam South. At Numan's Blikfabrieken we had a Jew as boss at the time. Mr Numan had taken this man into the firm shortly before he died, and it was a disaster. He was a rogue, but this has nothing to do with anti-Semitism: he simply was no good. But he was of course among those who escaped the Germans and he came back after the war thinking he could step back into his position in the firm. But things had changed and his claims were refuted and in the end the case came before the Court. I was among those who had to give evidence and I told the magistrate what had been said when he came to see Tine Goeman to win her over to his side and to promise her all sorts of things. Tine had died by that time. His name was Rodrigues Lopez and he lost his case! We also had a Jew working in the factory called Schweitzer, who was a fine craftsman. He had to register and by that time we knew what this meant. So Tine (who was then business manager) went to the "Lion's Den", being German Headquarters in Euterpestraat, to tell them that we needed Schweitzer to be able to fill the Wehrmacht orders. The answer was: "If your firm can't function without this Jew, then there is something wrong and we'll have to put someone in there who will teach you..." So that was that. He was taken away and we never heard from him again! The Germans put two of their people into the firm of Numan's Blikfabrieken. One, called Hermann Stöhrig, became manager in the office and another, called Bielstein, in the factory. I had learned German and could also take shorthand in that language, so I had a lot to do with Mr. Stöhrig, who was really a very nice man, as Germans go. We also had an occasional visit from the big boss from Germany, Herr General-Direktor Dr. Werner Funk, and this resulted in a big so-called A2 Anlage being installed in the downstairs large factory hall. It could in one operation spew out cans for the Wehrmacht. These cans were then sent to Meat, Cheese or other factories to be filled with food for the German soldiers at the Front. Tine had arranged with some of these firms, to send them a few extra dozen cans (mistakes as they were called) half of which came back to us filled with whatever was put into them for the soldiers. We also received smoked eel (which sometimes disappeared in transit), tinned cream, etc. The food situation became extremely difficult, especially towards the end of the war - the winter of 1944/45 - the 'hunger winter' as it came to be called. There were ration cards, but often the shops ran out of things. We came to the stage where we had only the food from the public kitchens and it was not very good. We boiled sugar beet, using the syrup for sweetening and 'the pulp to extend the volume of the soup kitchen rations, or - if we had some flour - to mix it together and bake this mixture into awful pancakes, Some people found ways of getting things and one day someone brought a pig's head to the office. It had to be divided among the few people still left in the office and it was difficult to hack the thing into pieces with the help of pocket knives! In the early days after the bevrijding (liberation) we still received food from the public kitchens, but it became a bit better. The Canadians supplied dry biscuits and powdered milk and from this, the kitchens made a kind of porridge, which we regarded as the most delicious food we had had for a long time. The biscuits came in large square tins 50x30x30 cm approx., and the Amsterdam boys soon found a use for them. They lashed a few of the tins together and used them as boats in the canals. My brother Jacques, who was a big man and used to eat substantial meals, developed hunger oedema and looked as though he would not live. However, he recovered that time, only to die shortly after the war (May 1946) at the age of 48 from something quite different: kidney poisoning. We did not hear from Joh at all and we are still not quite sure how he survived. He never talked about it afterwards. There was also the great strike, which started with the railway workers and spread to trams and buses. German soldiers travelled on the trams to keep them going. There was a constant stream of underground information re the progress of the war but it was difficult to know what was really going on as the news coming from Britain and Germany was often contradictory. There were also the jokes of course, which helped to keep us sane. One New Year's Eve at midnight, everyone came out on their back verandas in Orteliuskade and the street behind us and they banged pan lids and generally made an awful din. Someone started singing the Wilhelmus and everyone joined in. Such things kept up our spirits although it now seems rather trivial.

(I wrote this down as it happened, and try to translate some of it here) Rumours and still more rumours! Rumour is rife, we have noticed this during these last days of the war. Wednesday evening 2-5.1945 "The war is over, yes, really I heard it from somebody, who heard it from someone else, who heard it over the radio. Tomorrow it will be announced officially " Thursday, 3-5-1945 "Rumours of peace are completely unsubstantiated.... " Friday, 4.5.1945 Still nothing ... the situation is untenable. People are getting nervous and on edge; want to believe everything and nothing, not daring to believe. Friday evening: I have just attended to Paul and put him to bed (he is now 8½ months) and I'm walking around in my dressing gown and on slippers. Fred and Tine are sitting at the table. Somewhere someone yells "Hoera!" "Probably someone having a birthday in the neighbourhood" I say. There are still people walking outside and it is now 9 p.m. and we have to be in at 7 o'clock (Sperrzeit as it is called), but it is not unusual in these exciting days. We came home last Wednesday at 11 p.m.... There is a man calling to Mrs. Prent downstairs: "Peace, the war is over! Yes it is really so this time!" Fred and I jump up and run down the stairs to Mrs. Prent. But she doesn't know any more than what we heard the man say. Upstairs again and I put on my dress and shoes and so the three of us venture out into the street and to the Mercatorplein. On the Plein there is a lot of activity and people are milling around, It seems really to be true that the war is over; we can hardly believe it. Young people waving red-white and blue flags come from the Jan Evertsenstraat.... There is a man who reads aloud a bulletin from Truth, the communist underground newspaper. He reads: "The armies in North West Germany, the Netherlands, the Friesian Islands and Denmark have unconditionally surrendered, this means that "Nederland is vrij". Do you still doubt it now, asks Tine. I must believe it now. Back home, we open the bottle of Vermouth, specially kept for this occasion. Sitting at the table with our little carbide light, while people are still singing in the streets, we drink to the start of a new era… Some observations, relating to the War days, I wrote in Paul's "Baby Book" from Sept. 1944 to May 1945: 17.9.1944 I received vouchers for a baby mattress, 2 blankets, 1 baby parcel, 3 bunny rugs, 4 sheets and 1 pillowslip. When the baby arrived I had only received the mattress and the baby parcel (1 dozen nappies, 1 singlet (vest) and 1 jacket). 22.10.1944 There is no longer any electricity in the city. We now have a little carbide light, made by Mr. Prent downstairs, In comparison to the candles we first had, this could be called a sea of light! Dad was in the queue at the soup kitchen from 8.30 - 12 noon. People are cutting down trees, fences, etc., to burn in their stoves. Candles are ƒ. 4 to ƒ. 6 each. Last week we visited Tante Annie and Oom Joop. They had their first baby and it is a girl, Ansje, and she weighed 5½ pounds. Now all 5 babies, who were expected this year, have arrived: Beppie, Paul, Ansje, Albert and Emmy- 5.11.1944 "Zeeuws-Vlaanderen is now free of Germans and Antwerp is free!" 2.1.1945 We now receive 1¼ loaves of bread and 1 KG potatoes per week per person. This is not enough and the Amsterdammers take bikes and wheelbarrows and go (on foot sometimes) to the country, as far as Hoorn they go to try and buy food from the farmers. 8.1.1945 Situation is getting desperate, Today was the deadline for men between 16 - 40 to register for the "Arbeitseinsatz" which really means deportation to Germany to work in the factories. Dad has decided not to register and wait and see what happens. He is working at the Blikfabriek every other week and when the money to pay the workers at the Fabriek runs out, he - and of course Tine as well - will be out of a job. The scarcity of food is getting worse every day and nobody knows how it is all going to end. Yesterday a little girl of about 7 came to our door with a note from her mother, begging for food. We gave her a few potatoes. 14.2. 1945 Dad went to the baker shop at 6 am. this morning and at 10.30 he managed to get 1 loaf. Then I took Paul in the pram to queue and hand in ration cards for food, which is coming from the Red Cross in Sweden. I waited from 9.30 until 11 am. when Dad came to take my place. In the afternoon to the Soup kitchen. A very long queue and then the news: "Food can be collected from 3.30 until 5 p.m." However, it was 6 p.m. before they started dishing out the food and at 7 p.m. Dad came home with the meal we should have had at 2 p.m. Tantan had knitted a jacket for Paul, but on the way from Beverwijk to Amsterdam it disappeared without a trace. Someone else must have needed it more than we. The Swedish Red Cross has sent ships with food and we are to receive, free of charge: 3 loaves of bread, 4 pkt of margarine and ½ lb of beans. Dad bought 50 KG of Tulip bulbs last week for fl. 1 per KG. We toast them on the stove and they have a nutty flavour. 18.4.1945 The food situation is now such that we get only half a loaf of bread per week and the Soup kitchens will close next week. But .... Arnhem, Assen, Zwolle, Leeuwarden en Groningen have been liberated. The Allied Forces are on their way to Amersfoort l We have to hold on for a little while longer, the end is near ....... ————————— Saturday, 5.5.1945 Only now do we really feel free. The flags - red white and blue with the orange sash - are flying everywhere. We have also taken our flag out of hiding on Friday and it is hanging now proudly from our window. We kept it all tucked away for 5 years. Sunday, 6-5.1945 First to Mass. The church is full and above the altar is the Dutch flag. After Mass the organ intones the Wilhelmus and the whole congregation rises and sings, a very emotional moment. Mijn schild en mijn betrouwen Zijt Gij O God mijn Heer Op U zo wil ik bouwen Verlaat mij nimmer meer "Dat ik steeds trouw mag blijven Uw dienaar t'alle stond De tyrannie verdrijven Die my mijn hert doorwondt. This is the sixth of the 15 verses of the Dutch Anthem. On the Dam our new Burgomaster is going to be installed. He is F. de Boer, Director of the Steamship Company Nederland. Dad and I, on the bike, he riding, I on the carrier, to the Dam. However, when we got there, nothing seemed to be happening, no Burgomaster, no nothing. So we wandered around a bit, many people in the streets but still no jubilation, no Koninginnedag atmosphere, so we went home again. That same evening German officers, who resided in the Grote Club on the Dam shot at people from the windows of the hotel and 19 people were killed and many wounded. So much is happening and it is difficult to give an orderly report! There were for instance food parcels which were dropped from the air by allied planes, with the agreement of the Germans, for the starving people of the north of Holland. On Wednesday 2nd May we heard the sound of aeroplanes. We had heard that this would happen, so were expecting it. There, all of a sudden, were 10 large 4-engine bombers over Schiphol dropping their peaceful load. After we had yelled and cheered, we went back to whatever we were doing. But that was only the beginning. That same morning there must have been close on 200 planes and the enthusiasm of the people, who had come to the Orteliuskade to have a close look at what was happening, knew no bounds. It was a magnificent spectacle. The only pity was that we knew exactly what was in the parcels and how nice it all would be, but that on the 10th of May our quota still had not arrived. The food distribution was still woeful and we expected it to take a few more weeks before everything would be back to normal. They also started picking up N.S.B.'ers (National Socialist collaborators). They are getting what they deserve. It took until August 1945 for the Japanese to surrender. We were glad that the bomb had been dropped (God forgive us) because it brought an end to the war and we did not know at the time the terrible devastation and the long-term consequences. Dad was on his first trip as radio-telegraphist to Canada. I was spending a few weeks on holiday with friends in Zeist and I had Paul with me, who turned 1 year that same month. I was rather under-nourished and the friends I stayed with went out of their way to try and put some weight on me. My weight at that time was 45 Kg, which certainly is not very much. Since there was no public transport, I travelled from Zeist to Amsterdam in the cabin of a truck and it was paid for by a few packets of cigarettes Dad brought back from Canada. But gradually things got back to normal again. Just after the war finished Tine and we had moved from the Orteliuskade to Amstelveen to a bigger house and Tantan - who in the meantime had retired as Headmistress of a Girls School in Beverwijk - moved in with us. The rent at the Orteliuskade (ƒ-33 p.m.) was higher in Amstelveen (ƒ 60 p.m.) but with three people to pay for it, it worked out all right. This happened in 1946 and this was also the year that Oom Jacques died. When we moved to Amstelveen, Tine bought a piano and I started piano lessons. The teacher was Olga Hoffman, who kept cats in her house and the house always smelt of bleach, because she used it to keep the cats' quarters clean. The cats never went outside because she was afraid that the neighbours would complain. But she was a good teacher. My neighbour, Ida den Besten, also took lessons. We two, as well as some mothers of pupils, were invited to Olga's for a cup of coffee and a club was formed, which met every week in the home of members by rotation. We called it the "Coffee Club" or sometimes the "Klets Club". They were just nice, social gatherings and I enjoyed talking with these women from different backgrounds, But my proficiency in playing the piano was not great, although I did enjoy it very much. To start at 30 is a bit late ..... In Amstelveen we lived very happily until quite unexpectedly Tine had a heart attack, which left her partly paralysed. It was a great shock to us all. Dad was home between voyages. It took only a few weeks and then she had another attack and we found her dead in bed one morning in October at 7 am. Her death changed our life considerably, apart from leaving a great emptiness in my life. She was only 55 years old. Dad left shortly after the funeral to go to Texas to collect a tanker "Stanvac Pendopo" to go to Indonesia and he did not come back for 18 months. During his absence Treesje made her appearance. No longer having Tine to pay her share, meant that our financial situation became somewhat precarious. I decided to let one of the big upstairs rooms to a young man working for the K.L.M. and that helped to pay the rent. Dad came back and decided to give up seafaring and he got a job at Philips (N.S.F. Hilversum = Nederlandse Seintoestellen Fabriek). Two years after Treesje was born, we had another daughter, Lucy. She was born one day before my birthday and I remember it well, because it was election day and I had firmly decided that it was too important to miss out, so just before 12 noon I went to the polling booth, which was only a short way down the street, and about 2 p.m. Lucy arrived. Paul, Trees and Lucy were all born at home and the "verloskundige" was Thea Sam, Tantan's niece, and we had a nurse looking after the family for about a week. When Dad had decided that he wanted a job ashore, he had first considered taking a job offered in Indonesia (the Dutch East Indies as it was still called then) but that didn't come off and just as well because a few years later Indonesia became independent and Hollanders were no longer very welcome. So I answered ads in the paper and one letter went to Philips in which I wrote that by employing Dad they would not only have a competent man for the job but would also make a young family very happy. They told Dad later, that this had made them curious to see the man whose wife wrote such a letter. So now Dad was home more, although he had to travel to Hilversum every day.

 

While I was a member of Servio, we had a meeting of Sobrietas in Blaricum. I was going there with a group of girls from the Grail. I had sent out circulars and a small group wanted to come, so we all went in our colourful uniforms and on our bicycles. We had learnt a chorus (spreekkoor) and Freek Dobber was also in it, since he was on holidays from the seminary. He had been to a few rehearsals which we had weekly on the Bloemgracht and we had all noticed his strange accent. He did not take much notice of the female members of Servio. The performance in Blaricum took place in a big barn, because the rain was pouring down. Going home the rain was still going strong, it was awful. I saw the student Dobber on his bike with his nose practically on the handlebars, looking neither to right or left, wearing a "Burgerwacht" jacket belonging to his brother as protection against the rain. We were all soaking wet when we reached home. After the holidays Freek went back to Belgium to continue his studies until we heard from his brothers that he was coming home for good. After a while he came to Servio again. He started studying for radio telegrafist at Radio Holland, where two of our Servianen - Jan Jaspers and Henk Molenaar - were doing the same course. Then there was the Bla-tento, which meant the Blauwe Tentoonstelling. In Holland, if you join an organisation where you give up alcohol, you are "van de blauwe knoop". This Bla-tento was held from 21 Jan until 24 Jan 1939 - Freek and I were put in charge of the literature stall. We stood there every night to hand out brochures etc., to the public. On the last night, it took a long time to clear everything away and Tine suggested that I should go home. Freek asked if he could take me home and I agreed. We walked very prim and proper along the dark Bloemgracht and before we came to the end of the gracht he asked me the big question. I didn't say 'yes' immediately; it had come a bit unexpectedly; I had first to get used to the idea. When we moved from the Admiralengracht to Orteliuskade, the relation had progressed to walking in the park, cycling into the country, etc. As Freek didn't have any money, our entertainments were limited, but taking the bike out into "God's vrije natuur" didn't cost any money and that is what we mostly did. Then, on l0th of May 1940, war broke out and that started to change our lives. On the 4th November Freek got his 2nd class certificate at Radio Holland but he failed for the 1st class for signalling and taking down Morse code. Radio Holland stopped the course and shortly after the Germans decided that all young men, who were unemployed, should come forward and their names be taken. On the 26th April 1942 we had decided to officially get engaged. The rings had to be paid for by me, because Freek didn't have a cent. He paid for it later by making hairclips at home and he paid me back on the morning of our engagement day. On the l0th of April 1942 Mr. Numan had died and this brought about many changes in the firm. Tine found an opportunity to get Freek a job in the firm, so he was free from the German round-up of young men and also he would earn something. This was not a happy time. Freek did not do very well in the job at first; it was definitely not his cup of tea. This had an adverse effect on our relationship. However, things got better and we decided to go ahead and get married, which happened on 2 June 1943 . We looked like a real bride and bridegroom, although my dress was on loan from Tante Annie (Annie and Ries married in 1940) and Freek wore a hired 'jacquet' with silk top hat and grey plastron. The Mass was at St. Augustinus Church on the Postjesweg (this church, although quite new, has now disappeared) and the celebrant was Fr. Loos CssR, who was my confessor at the time. Oom Ries and Oom Kees were on the altar, and my brother Joh sang Panis Angelicus and Ave Maria. As there was no petrol, there were no cars and we drove to church in horse-drawn carriages. We were late because of the continuous air-raid alarms; it was a beautiful and sunny day. We spent the day and had our wedding dinner at Tante Siny and Oom Jacques, who lived in a beautiful old canal house on the Herengracht. Oom Theo had made a cake, which was quite something because you couldn't get any ingredients in the shops. Alas, it was put in the downstairs kitchen and the ants got at it. However, we didn't worry too much about that, we cut the worst bits off and ate the rest! Tine had many business relations who provided us with some other goodies such as butter and an Ox tongue, etc. So we have nice memories of this day, considering the situation. We took my father home to St. Bernardus in a little bike carriage and then went to Orteliuskade, which Tine had vacated for the night. Next day we were off to Ugchelen for a week's holiday. How we got there I don't remember. There must still have been trains at that stage. After the honeymoon it was back to work, where I was now no longer Miss Jagerman, but Mrs. Dobber. When in February I was sure that I expected a child, I resigned and on 30th of June 1944 I left Numan's Blikfabrieken. As farewell gift I received a beautiful baby cabinet, made by the firm's carpenter. And then on the 18th August 1944 we had our first child, a beautiful boy. He experienced the worst war winter 1944/45, but he was breastfed and grew as if there was no hunger and privation. However, I was very, very weak and by the end of 1945 I became ill, but that comes later in the story. Now first in chronological order what happened to Dad. Towards the end of the war I had urged Dad to get in touch with Radio Holland. One Sunday he went to see Mr. Leyenaars, the Director, on the Weteringschans. Immediately after the "liberation" he started a repeat course at Radio Holland and on 19.6.1945 he was told to go to Rotterdam to be enlisted. At last on the 4th July he signed the contract with Radio Holland and left on the:
m.s. Tiba 2.7.1945 to Canada (Montreal) s.s. Kelbergen 19.8.1945 to Spain (Huelva) s.s."Kelbergen 15.10.1945 to " " 6 trips in all to such places as Huelva, Cardiff, Hull, Liverpool) m.s. Stad Maastricht 14.9.1946 to Calcutta, Bombay and Madras s.s. Zaanstroom 3.4·1947 to Iceland, Faroer, Hull, Immingham m.s. Stanvac Pendopo 14.11.1947 3 trips to Indonesia m.s. Sibajak 4.6.1949 home to Holland from Indonesia m.s. Ceram 1-9-1949 to Karachi etc. From these travels he brought home many things which were still unavailable in Holland, such as nappies, slippers for me, a little suit for Paul. From Spain: 2 lengths of material for dresses for me, 3 suits and 2 pairs of pants for Paul, slippers for Tine, also bananas, lemons, oranges, cotton thread, cotton for mending socks and stockings and from Sfax, dates. He also bought some clothes for himself and looked quite handsome in his battle dress. However, I became ill and the doctor diagnosed it as typhoid. I was immediately sent to the Wilhelmina Hospital in the isolation ward for infectious diseases. It was a large ward with about 30 very ill women and children. One little 2 year old girl, kept on crying "Doosie, doosie" which means a little box in Amsterdam popular language. The nurses could not make out what it was she was fretting for. Her mother knew however and it turned out to be a little cardboard box in which she kept little bits of material in different colours, which the child liked to play with. There was also a baby with meningitis who died and there were three other women who died in the short time while I was there. Strangely enough this did not affect me as much as the fact that I had to leave there and was moved to another ward for TBC patients. I really thought then that I would never get out. What had happened was that a bright young female doctor had realised that I didn't have typhoid, but pleuritis interlobaris as it was called officially. I stayed in this ward for about 6 weeks and then was allowed to go home on the condition that I would rest and not kiss my baby as the doctor said that my illness was tubercular. That was not a pleasant message. But I was glad to go home and after a couple of months rest I was declared better but I had put on a considerable amount of Kg’s and my clothes did no longer fit me.

 

Immediately after the war ended there was much talk about emigration and Tante Rietje spoke to us about it. We went to a film about Australia, which showed us kangaroos and kookaburras and exotic flowers and sandy beaches etc..... It all seemed wonderful and a real adventure. However we heard also stories from people who had emigrated and were sent to migrant camps and I was not happy about the idea that we would leave the security of a job and a house for something like a camp in an unknown country. I thought Dad should have a job before we left for Australia. So I bought Australian Newspapers, the Age etc., which were 6 weeks old, and wrote applications for several jobs I thought would suit Dad. On one letter - to the Commonwealth Lighthouse Service - we received an answer, offering a position as lighthouse keeper in Tasmania, if we could arrive within the next 12 months. We hardly knew where Tasmania was and looked it up on the map and read the information in the Winkler Prins, which wasn't much. However we decided to go ahead and with this letter it would make things a lot easier. Auntie and Uncle decided that they would go as well and we hoped that it would be possible to go together and offer each other support. It was on one day in July 1952, I think it was a Friday, that we received notice that a berth would be available for the next Tuesday (!) on the ss "Nelly". That threw us into a panic. Since we had started to think about emigration which was several months ago, I had become pregnant again. So my first reaction was to wait till the baby was born. I was a bit worried about having a baby in a strange country, although later I thought that babies would be born every day in Australia as well and that I would be all right. But I rang the steamship company, just in case there was a way out, but I was told that if we did not take this opportunity, we would go to the bottom of the list. The man on the phone said, "Anyway it is much easier to travel now than with a newborn baby". This seemed reasonable enough although I later had second thoughts about the "easy travelling" because I was seasick most of the time we spent at sea. That same Friday afternoon, Ted de Roos came on the bike and breathlessly inquired if we had received a similar letter to the one they had received. Theo and Rietje decided to pack their belongings themselves, but we thought it better to pay a professional to do it for us. So we first selected the things we wanted to take with us and they came and took it all away and handled all the formalities for us. I had already been in touch with the wife of the head keeper at Eddystone Point and knew that it was not necessary to take any furniture. We would be allotted a furnished house. Other information proved to be wrong, namely that we would not be allowed to import into Australia any carpets and mattresses, so we left all these behind. We wanted to take our piano and all our books. We were allowed 3m ³ space and the firm who did the packing managed to get it all in one huge packing case. Friends and relations came to say good bye. What happened to the furniture, I don't know; some was sold, other things were taken by people. When we went back to Holland for the first time in 1974, I found at Carla's the little bookcase which I had had in my bedroom at home. It is a treasured object in her house. In the last few days Ida den Besten gave us meals and we still had our beds to sleep in. Niek den Besten took us in his car to Rotterdam where we had to board the ship and Tantan came with us. I can't remember much of what happened there except that they played the Wilhelmus through the loudspeakers. The "Nelly" was a troopship which had been converted (not much) to take migrants to Australia. It was an awful ship. Dad and Paul were in a dormitory for 75 men and I was in a 12 bunk cabin with the two girls. Because by this time I was about 5-6 months pregnant, I was seasick practically all the time, I had my meals in the cabin most times (although this was really not allowed) but the smell of those dreadful dining rooms made me feel sick. Life on board was like living in a refugee camp. I had a terrible time, because of the seasickness but the others amused themselves with playing cards, dancing and other games. There were special things arranged for the children and Paul took part in a production of "Repelsteeltje". Teresa was always on the go and many times we had to search high and low to find her. She refused to stay in the play area with the other children. She and Lucy were only little toddlers and sometimes they had an 'accident' so we (Auntie and I) had to do washing in the primitive facilities of the ship. No throw-away nappies in those days. We were allowed on shore in Cape Town and the remarkable thing was that I felt O.K. as soon as I touched terra firma. I don't remember much of Cape Town although it was our first encounter with 'apartheid' as we saw buildings, telephone booths, etc., with signs saying "whites only" or such like. We also had our first milkshake there which was a great favourite with the children. We went via Cape Town because of the steel hull of the ship, which was regarded as unsuitable to go through the tropics. Dad had some English money left from his travels and that paid for the milk-shakes! I also remember walking through a beautiful park where we saw some tame squirrels. Then off again to the ship and on to Fremantle where the immigration officials came on board, and forms had to be filled in. I signed a form for child endowment and put T.Dobber-Jagerman as I was used to doing, but they did not accept this and crossed off the 'Jagerman'. Paul had his birthday on board (8 years old) and we gave him his present, which was a box of Meccano we had brought with us from Holland. At last we arrived in Melbourne and were met by a gentleman from the Department. We were taken to a city migrant hostel, somewhere near the Exhibition Building. We had £ 50 landing money and we had to use this money to buy mattresses, because we had left those behind. This did not leave us much money, but we could order provisions from Mr. Twist (Green's in Williamstown) who was the regular supplier of Lighthouses and he gave us credit, until the first payment of wages would come through. All our stuff was put on the Cape York, but our big packing case was to come a few weeks later from the ship. We were going to Cape Schanck and we could get there over land and we would be able to shop in Rosebud. So off we went to our great adventure! It was a complete change from the life we were used to, electricity from a dynamo, cooking on a wood stove, heating water in the copper for baths and washing. I had written to the Correspondence School for lessons for Paul and they had a course especially for migrant children who had to learn English first, before going on to the normal school lessons. My time was getting closer, so we decided to ask the Department if we could have Auntie and Beppie staying with us for the time I would be in hospital and that was O.K. So one day there was a knock on the door and a taxi driver said "I have here a young woman and a kid for you" and there they were. It was especially good for me to have someone with me these last few weeks. One evening I felt that the time was there and we had a taxi coming from Rosebud to pick us up. We had to go to Dromana, which was the nearest hospital. I had already been to the doctor there a few times with the lady from the lighthouse (Mrs. Gledhill) so I knew the doctor. However, he wasn't there when the baby was born so the nurses delivered the baby. All went well, although I had at first difficulty in understanding the special hospital language, but that was soon O.K. They were surprised that I could speak such reasonable English after only having been in the country for 6 weeks. I had a nice time in hospital, listening to the radio, hearing that Eisenhower had been elected President of the USA and that was big news. Dad went to see the priest in Dromana and when we left hospital we had the little heathen baptised first, before going home! When Marc was 4 months old, we were transferred to Eddystone Point in Tasmania. We went by the Cape York and we enjoyed this trip very much. Marc slept in our cabin on the little seat, which could be made into a little bed for him by putting a board against it so he could not fall out. Lucy was a favourite with the mate and he carried her around with him and let her hold his fishing line etc. He said she reminded him of his own little daughter. Life at Eddystone was very good, it was for Dad a completely new life because he had to chop wood, paint the lighthouse (at Cape Schanck), polish the lenses, and keep watch during the night. I also had to do a lot of work I had never done before, like baking bread, looking after the garden and the chooks, teaching Paul and later Beppie and the other girls. But there were no distractions like cinema or shopping and when the children were in bed, I had lots of time for reading and writing letters. We spent three years in Eddystone and once had a holiday with Theo and Rietje who lived in an old farmhouse in Broadmeadows outside Melbourne. I taught Paul for one year (grade 3) and then we sent him to boarding school in Hobart at St. Virgil's College. He straightaway topped his class and did very well throughout his time at school. Then I started teaching Teresa and then Lucy the three R's by correspondence lessons and this went very well. I had a lively correspondence with the teachers who even bought a dictionary and books as gifts for the children when I sent them the money. We spent 3 years at Eddystone Point. Rietje stayed with us for a considerable time and also Beppie spent months with us until they established themselves in Launceston where Theo opened a Pastry cook business. This gave us the opportunity to get away from the Lighthouse and move to Launceston. We liked the life at the Lighthouse but we didn't want to send all the children away to boarding schools. We took over a milk bar in Invermay Road and managed to stay there for 9 months with very unsatisfactory living quarters. Then Dad was fortunate enough to find a job with the PMG as it was then called, as a trainee technician. From Invermay Road we moved to Rees Street where we managed to buy an old house for £ 1600 which we sold for the same price (luckily enough). Our next place of residence was Ross Avenue (£ 3,300). This was a much better house, the children had more room. Paul went to St. Patrick's College and the girls (and later Marc also) to St. Finn Barr's Primary School. In 1965 we moved to Hobart because Dad had to finish his diploma course at the Uni. By this time Teresa was in Matric, Lucy in 3rd year, Marc 1st year and Philip started school at Immaculate Heart of Mary in Lenah Valley.