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Moving to No. 2 Melnichnaya St.
CHAPTER 1 In the autumn of 1924 we moved to a new apartment in Melnichnaya St. (or Dzirnavu iela in Latvian) in Riga. Itwas a three-floor house where only the third floor was a residential apartment; the first two floors weretaken up by a small factory that manufactured special sweets for people wishing to stop smoking and another small factory that made stockings. The stocking-making machines worked around the clock and the walls of our apartment kept shaking slightly from the noise made by them. There were only a few children in the surrounding houses with which our house shared a courtyard. However, there was an interesting place above our apartment: the attic. This is where old baskets, old books and other useless things were kept and, even more interesting than that, this is where the pigeons' nests were. We saw both the little eggs and the little chicks. Many years later, when I was working for "Sovetskaya Molodezh" ("Soviet Youth", a Russian-language newspaper published in the USSR) in the spring of 1945, shortly before the 1st of May, we discussed the material to be prepared for the holiday issue. (The International Day of Solidarity of the Workers, marked on the 1st of May, has been a state holiday in the USSR for many years. - Tr.). Maya Albertovna Kinze, the Deputy Editor, said that it would be a good idea to publish a short story about the marking of this date during the German occupation. I said I would write it (where did I get the pluck to do that, I still don't know!). I wrote the story and it was considered quite nice, despite the fact that M. A.Kinze was a strict and not too benevolent critic. The story was published. I based the beginning of the story on my childhood memories of the attic above our apartment at No. 2 Melnichnaya St., while the rest of the story was based on my underground experience in the Young Pioneers movement and on the way we marked the 1st of May during those years. "PIGEONS AND RIBBONS" By L. Turgel Garik did not like to be sad and he did not like too much deep thinking either. His life was always easy and simple. His parents went to work and he, Garik, went to school, read his books and went skating. His round cheeks always wore a healthy glow and a nice welcoming smile never left his lips. Life was especially nice during the year when he joined the Pioneers. Every day was filled with joyful events. It seemed that there were so many things to be done but the days just seemed too short. And then everything stopped. The word "war" hung above the city like a heavy cloud. During that night Father did not come home. "He is with the shock troops, - said Mother, - he will come back." But he never did. Garik was not afraid of the bombings and the threatening roar of the enemy airplanes. Yet he suddenly felt lonely and sad. He did not see any of his schoolmates in the school yard, even though they did agree to meet there at certain hour. There were no Pioneers' meetings anymore. Then the Germans came. Garik hid his red necktie in a safe place, he was going to keep it no matter what. "That'll show them!" - the boy whispered as he tore off German notices off the walls. "That'll show them!"- he whispered as he drew five-pointed stars with a piece of chalk on the inside walls of buildings. The 1st of May was coming soon. In the evenings, after going to bed, Garik kept dreaming. Music and familiar songs could be heard from afar, columns of people were marching in the streets and there were lots and lots of red banners… If only the 1st of May could be the same as it has always been! If only something could happen that would turn this day into a happy and sunny holiday! He, Garik, must mark it somehow. Let it pass without a parade, without music and songs, but it shall be a special day. "That will show them!" "Victor, do you still have your pigeons?" Victor raised his eyes in disbelief at his friend. "Show them to me." Garik and Victor climbed up a small ladder and reached a small door; the boys had to bend their heads to get into the attic. The space under the roof had been warmed by the sun and it had that special stuffy and warm smell. All around there were pigeons' droppings, fluff and feathers. Victor once had seventeen pigeons living here, but now only two have been left. Someone has been stealing them, probably the Germans who live upstairs. Victor could not do anything to catch the thief. Victor carefully raised his favorites from their corner. The pigeons were moving their small heads, showing their blue-gray necks. Garik carefully looked at their feet. They will fit well enough! "Victor, listen!" - Victor's eyes were wide open and he wanted to say something, but Garik whispered something to him quickly and Victor smiled, nodding his head. The pigeons were still sitting quietly in the boys' hands, opening and closing their little eyes. Where could one find some red ribbon? It has to be wide and long. One cannot buy such things these days. Suddenly Victor remembered that last year the future Young Pioneers were taking part in the ceremony of joining their organization. It took place on the 1st of May. They were all standing in a row and one of the girls, Velta, was there too. She had red ribbons in her long fair plaits. Her mother gave her the ribbons as a present for the ceremony. This is what they were now looking for. They did not want to involve another person in this important matter, but only Velta could help them. She did not ask the boys what they needed those ribbons for. The ribbons have not been used for quite a while. Mother said that wearing red ribbons with the Germans around could be dangerous. So, Velta now wears yellow or green ribbons in her hair. She has been keeping the red ones as a dear memory. "You better come to our building on the 1st of May, at 10 in the morning, and you'll see for yourself, - said Garik in a voice full of importance. The two ribbons are sewn into one long one. The boys' heads were bent above the ribbon and they were both carefully writing something on it by paintbrushes dipped in bronze-color paint. The paint turned into gold after drying. After the few last brushstrokes the brushes were put aside. The inscription emblazoned on the ribbon spoke to one's heart: "Long Live the 1st of May!" The long-awaited day, the 1st of May, had arrived. It was a clear sunny day. The streets were full of pedestrians. The two boys stood near a window on the stairs of Victor's house. Their hearts were pounding. Another moment - and the pigeons were released. The boys ran back into the apartment. No-one had seen them… The pigeons were slowly flying down. A long red ribbon was fastened to their feet. The gold letters on it were clear and bright. People could read it: "Long Live the 1st of MAY!" After a couple of rounds above the street the pigeons soared up and disappeared behind the rooftop of the building. They were now flying above some other street and the people there could also read: "Long Live the 1st of May!" For a long time two pairs of boys' eyes followed the birds' flight from behind the window curtain. Somewhere in the street a girl with long fair plaits raised her head and smiled. Her eyes were following the red ribbon moving above in the sky. Our New Apartment Our new apartment was very large and at first we took
up all the rooms by ourselves so there was plenty ofroom for everyone.
However, the situation changed I Attend Mrs.Lishina "Gymnasium" …I had to sit for several tests in order to be accepted to this school. I do not remember anything about the tests in Russian and arithmetic because they seemed very easy and simple, but I do remember the German test very well. I was sitting all alone in a classroom, when a school teacher with an ugly, angry face, a limp and red hair gathered in a bun, came into the room. She spoke to me angrily and started dictating a text for me to write down. She then asked me to read a short passage in a German book and tell some of what I had read. In the meantime she checked my dictation text and I suddenly felt that she looked a bit surprised. At that time I could write in German without mistakes and I could tell a simple text quickly and easily enough. She obviously did not expect a little girl like me to do so well in the test. Even her voice became somewhat nicer when she told me that I could go. It transpired later that I did very well in all my tests.
It was a private school, a really "old-fashioned" one, like the ones they had during the Czar's time. It seems to me that a portrait of Czar Nicolas II was hanging in the school hall. The headmistress was Mrs. Olimpiada Nikolayevna Bochagova-Lishina. (She died not so long ago, many years after the war.) When she came into the school hall, where the students walked around during recess, everyone immediately stood in a neat row and curtsied. This was a special kind of a curtsy, which we were taught and then practiced diligently during our dancing classes: both arms were put together in front, the right one on top of the left one, the right leg made half a circle and stopped behind; with the right leg still in the back, one had to squat a little, while holding the body completely erect, and then bring the right leg back while simultaneously straightening up. The students standing in the long row did all this simultaneously and in absolutely similar and much-practiced motions. If Olimpiada Nikolayevna came into the hall during our dancing lessons or gymnastics the ceremony was the same. She had a stately demeanor, walked straight, looked at us with a strict gaze and wore a rustling dress. Everyone was afraid of her. From Form 5 up she taught us Russian and Russian literature. Her daughter, Anna Nikolayevna, taught us history. Her daughter, Olimpiada Nikolayevna's granddaughter, was at the time attending Form 1. She was a pretty, self-assured, haughty girl, a "favorite". On my first day at school I suddenly found myself in an unfamiliar world. All the students gathered in the hall with everyone's eyes turned towards an Russian Orthodox icon the corner. A Russian Orthodox priest, a "Batyushka", stood near the icon and intoned a special prayer to mark the beginning of the school year. He had a long beard and he sprinkled around holy water. After his prayer everyone sang together, as they do in a church. My First Girlfriend When I started school I found that Raya Opeshkina was also in my class. She was the girl who had lived in the same house as Aunt Sonya did, at No. 8 Ganibu Dambis in Riga, where we moved in after returning from Russia. I was very glad to see Raya at school, at least now I had someone there I knew. We sat at the same desk and became good friends. Raya was a very nice quiet girl, a gifted one. She could draw very well. She was especially good at drawing little figures of boys and girls. She did it very quickly and all the little figures looked very much alike. I tried to do the same and managed to copy her manner of drawing little girls. I did not acquire a full command of that, but it did not bother me. After school we used to draw whole classes of little school girls, we drew desks, made little notebooks and textbooks for our students, etc. Raya and I were very good friends during all those three years. Raya's fate was not too good. After getting married she was sick for many years. She died of cancer. When I sometimes meet her husband, Volodya Magarshak, we always speak about Raya, about her good nature and her talents. When she was alive he did not always appreciate her good qualities. Now he tells me that he was sorry about many things in his past behavior… And There Were Others The lives of Lena and Marusya Novik passed along "in the vicinity" of my life. Marusya Novik played Schubert's "Musical Moment" at the New Year's concert and since then I have always loved this piece of music. I still do. I found myself rather "attracted" to Lena. She came from a very wealthy family, wore black patent-leather shoes every day(!) and knee-length silk stockings. Lena Novik-Rosenbaum still lives in Riga. (Both Iren and Tusya have met her daughters, Lilya and Ira). There was an expression used in that home: "devans enfants!" ("not in front of the children"). All that has been left of the "former grandeur" of that family was the aspiration to wear chic clothes and an arrogant attitude… There was another of my classmates whom I liked: Haya Gurevich. She was a strong girl, taller than me, very capable and very nice. I found that her very beautiful handwriting was her most attractive feature. We all thought that her handwriting was especially clear and pretty. Many of the girls, including myself, asked Haya to write in their school diaries the list of the different lessons fixed for the week. I used to open the diary just to look at her handwriting. I also tried to copy her writing manner and even succeeded a little. Haya played an important part in my life after school. When I decided to go ice-skating for the first time Haya offered to come with me. She lived not far from the skating ring that was situated on the corner of Nikolayevskaya St. (later Gorky St.) and Rytsarskaya St. (later Krasnoarmeiskaya St.). The skating ring belonged to the Latvian Athletics' Society. When we came there, Haya saw her two older brothers (they must have been about 13 or 15, but to me they seemed as tall as giants) and asked them to teach me to skate. The two "giants" took me by my arms and started making rounds on the ice together with me. I barely managed to move my feet! After a while they let go of my arms and said: "Now you try doing that alone!" I tried and succeeded and since then I could skate without anyone's help. So, in a way Haya Gurevich was responsible for my skating skills. I still remember how her two brothers lead me along that skating ring. It was both nice and a little frightening… We had a real English girl in our class. Her name was Edith Erch and she was the daughter of the man who wrote the English textbook we were using at school. Edith spoke good Russian but she had an accent. She also had a lot of trouble with the Russian grammar. She shared a desk with Tanya Sherman and they were good friends. Edith was the only one in class who wore her hair down; it was done up in long "corkscrew" curls, "English curls" as they were called, and held by two clasps on both sides of her face. Edith used to knit during all the lessons. I remember she was knitting a very long green scarf with a pattern either in silk or something similar to silk. She was doing her knitting on round needles and she used to say that was being ordered to finish a certain knitting assignment every day. As a matter of fact, we were allowed to knit or sew during our lessons and there were quite a few girls who did so while there was someone else at the blackboard answering questions. I also remember another of our girls: Sonya Wail. She was a harmless, not too clever and a rather "fidgety" girl. She lived not far from the Viesturdars Park, on Middle Street that connects Vilandes St., Yanka Kupala St. and Auseklya St. I visited her at home a few times and we used to go for walks together. We even had a "love story" in our class: Lisa Evgenyeva, a pretty coquettish girl, fell in love with George Loulou, a real Frenchman and a very handsome boy. The "love story" was, of course, discussed by everyone in class: was her love reciprocated, were they "together" or not… Lisa had slanting blue eyes, light wavy hair, two dimples and a lovely skin. She was usually all smiles, spoke in a rather affected manner and made no secret of the fact that she liked George. She was not such a great student. I remember visiting her at home once too. We also had two girls from an orphanage: Evgeniya Gorshkova and Lena Pchelina. Lena was a simple and carefree girl, while Zhenya Gorshkova was grim, tense and a real "grind". It so happened that I soon became the "top student" in class, as it was called then. However, the school administration wanted a Russian girl to be the top student and not a Jewish one. The only girl who could have claimed the title was Zhenya Gorshkova because the only thing she knew how to do was to sit and "grind" her homework. Thus, the teachers started trying to mark up her results. They forgave her the terrible pronunciation in French and German, her unclear replies, misses and hitches, and they still gave her top marks. It did not help though: she just did not have what it took to be the top student and I had subconsciously started trying to outdo her. I felt the injustice and rebelled against it. So, if before that I studied rather carelessly and did well, now I really invested time and effort in my lessons and assignments. During my three years at the Lishina Gymnasium (from 3rd year to 5th year) I either received top marks only and maybe one or two "very goods". In any case, my marks were always better than Zhenya's. I clearly remember how envious she was and how the teachers tried to "push me down". I remember very well our report cards: they were long pink folded cards that had some official details on the outside and the subjects we learned and our marks on the inside. In my case it was a long line of "excellents" with one or two "very goods" in French or needlework. And that was it. Some of Our Boys There was a "bad" boy called, I think, Alexey Volkov. He was a poor student and his behavior was bad too. He always got reprimanded. He shared a desk with Vsevolod Suslov. At gymnastics he stood next to me that meant that he was short like me. Therefore, when we had dancing lessons he was usually my partner. I noticed that he enjoyed that, but he was a poor dancer and I was not happy about that "partnership" at all. We were taught all the "old" dances: the waltz, the "krakowyak", the "pas-de-quatre" and the "pas-de-patiniere. A boy called Nika Ryzhkov was a good friend of mine. He was a tall thin boy, very polite and talented. He was very good at drawing. I had some of his drawings in my album; they were usually small landscapes done in small confident strokes. Nika lived not far from me and we often went home from school together. He often carried my school bag. On the way we used to discuss our school affairs, such as how silly it was to fall in love at school and how ridiculous Lisa Evgenyeva looked while "pursuing" George Loulou. I do think though that Nika was in love with me a bit! I met Nika many years later. He was an architecture student and had turned from a thin young boy into a tall broad-shouldered fellow. I hardly recognized him. I also remember that the youngest boy in class was a certain Lavrushin.
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After I passed the tests Mother took me to the dressmaker
to order a school uniform. All the students at Mrs. Lishina's school
had their uniforms made at that dressmaker's. The uniform was, of
course, the same one for all the students: a pleated skirt of a
certain length and a blouse with short sleeves (to which long sleeves
could be tacked on if needed). A black apron was worn on weekdays,
but not during holidays, it was also part of the uniform. There
were also white cuffs and a white collar that were sewn onto the
dress. The design of the cuffs and the collar as well as the lace
decorating them had to be of a certain kind. White cuffs were worn
both on the long sleeves and the short ones. It was all very pretty.
When all the students, both the older ones and the young ones, stood
in one row at school it really looked very nice. It was a girls'
school but there were exceptions and a few boys were accepted (I
think, from the Form 6 up.) There were a few of them in each of
these classes.
