Gene Stern

Stephen: I am convinced the math teacher who paddled you was Biff Bailey (My football coach) whose classroom was on the lower level near the cafeteria. He also smacked me and David Schneider with a yardstick when we were too loud outside his classroom door.

Ann Shepard (Rueve)

So glad that helped, Gene. What a wonderful tribute to your father. My deepest condolences. 

Philip Spiess

THE EYES OF DR. T. J. ECKLEBURG  [cf. The Great Gatsby, chap. 2.]

 (Ann, now that I know how to post pictures, you've created a monster.)

Paul Simons

Gene - it seems right to combine celebration and condolence, appears your father's life and passing are cause for both. A very good thing that he and his family came to this country.

About events at the school - yes it was Bailey who did the paddling. Today's word would be "excessive."

About the mechanics of the website the icons are pretty tiny but they are intuitive. One that I like is the YouTube URL acceptor, another is the one that looks like a couple of links in a chain and as you'd expect it's for URLs - links

Philip Spiess

Gene:  A lovely tribute to your father, Victor Stern.  Do I understand that he was a survivor of the Holocaust?  My parents had a cottage at Evergreen until my father died in 2003; are there other memorial benches there?

As to Mr. Bailey's penchant for paddling, I wrote this up in Post # 6096 (9-26-2022).  I also mentioned the "Grand Moose," perpetrated and perpetuated in Mr. Bailey's home room [Room 118] by us 9th-grade guys -- but no one has commented on it (David M. Schneider, I'm looking at you!).  

Ann Shepard (Rueve)

Gene, I have a connection with Evergreen as well.
Long before it was developed into a retirement community, the area was owned by the Phillip Meyers family, who developed the Williamsburg Apartments in the 1960s. I lived in a townhouse there from 1979 to 1981. That's where I met my (future) husband Ed, who lived in the townhouse next door with his three teenage children, and two dogs.
Early one morning, bleary eyed, I was putting my dog out on the back patio. I looked over the privacy fence, and a horse stared back at me. My first thought was that my neighbor must have another big dog, but it dawned on me,"Nope, that's a horse".
Weeks later, after I had met the man next door, a conversation about the horse came up. Ed chuckled. He said that his daughter had discovered the stable on the adjacent property and made the acquaintance with the owner of the horses. They let her ride the horses whenever she wanted. Ed said, one night, it was too late to take the horse back, so she just tied it up on the patio. 
Ed and I became great friends, after that first conversation. We also enjoyed walking our dogs together every afternoon around that property. We didn't realize we "really liked" being together until after he moved.
I hadn't thought about that horse for years. I need to call my (now) stepdaughter and remind her. I'm sure that will make her smile. 

Ann Shepard (Rueve)

Phil, let the pictures begin!!!

Dale Gieringer

    Speaking of Cincinnati chili, here's another gastronomical delight from across the river that I don't remember from my days at WHHS, but which is featured in today's NY Times.  Savoring Bourbon, and Its Storied History, in Northern Kentucky..  What better tp accompany a four-way? Drive across the river to Covington or Newport and get snockered on bourbon from an authentic local distillery.  While you're at it, stop by the package store and load up on low-cost Kentucky whisky to smuggle back home.   Unless of course you'd prefer to stay in Ohio and enjoy a nice, cold Burger Beer.  

Philip Spiess

If y'all find yourselves in Bourbon territory or traversing the Dixie Highway, stop by Bardstown, Kentucky, to visit the Oscar P. Getz Museum of Whiskey History, housed in Spalding Hall, the former main building of what was variously over time a Catholic college, a seminary, an orphanage, and a boys' school; St. Joseph's Proto-Cathedral in Bardstown was once the seat of a Roman Catholic diocese that covered the entire Old Northwest Territory.  Oscar P. Getz was the late proprietor of Barton Distilleries and a collector of all things whiskey; his collection is now a fine museum on a lovely topic (said by one who should know in both cases).  As Bardstown is a ways from Cincinnati, it is probably advisable to stay overnight, in which case you'll want to stay at the Old Talbott Tavern in Bardstown.  Founded in 1779, it is believed to be the oldest continuously operating tavern hotel in the United States; Patrick Henry signed its 1785 tavern license, George Rogers Clark used it as his headquarters during the Revolutionary War, and a mural painted by associates of the exiled King Louis Philippe of France in an upper room was shot up by Jesse James.  ("Federal Hill," a.k.a. "My Old Kentucky Home," Senator John Rowan's famed estate, is nearby.)  Bardstown -- and Covington as well -- are part of the historic Kentucky Bourbon Trail (check out its website), in fact, practically its two ends!

Gene Stern

It is interstimg to see how many of us have connections to Evergreen. I have not seen any orher benches dedicated to past residents, so we may be the first to have done so. The building was also home to Myers Winery, and I was told that the largest wine cellar East of the Mississippi is located underneath Evergreen. My Mom was 93 when she pssed aboit 4 years ago at Evergreen.

We are off to Athens today, so I will probably not be on the Forum until after I return to the States on November 10 after we return from Venice.

Ciao!

Doug Gordon

Phil, re your post about the 1937 flood from last month, you might enjoy my grandfather's film on the event.

Ann Shepard (Rueve)

Doug,

Interesting film. My mother was a young social worker for the welfare department during the great flood. She told me about having to be rowed to people’s homes to deliver food and clothing. It’s amazing to me how much of the city was under water, familiar places like Knowlton’s Corner. Thanks for this bit of history. 

Gene Stern

Dear Gail:  I have been asked to give a small talk at our 75+2 party in June 23. I may recount my family histriry so all may kniw about my family's escape from Nazi captirs and how we emigrated to Cincy in 1951.

Philip Spiess

Doug Gordon:  Very interesting film.  I noted two obvious ladmarks in it:  St. Rose of Lima Church on Eastern Avenue (actually Riverside Drive) by the Main Pumping Station of the Cincinnati Waterworks (Eastern Avenue east of Torrence Road), and the main entrance gate towers (Kellogg Avenue at California, Ohio) to Coney Island Amusement Park (the next shot shows the roller coasters, notably "The Shooting Star," in the background).  St. Rose Church, a notable red brick Victorian church with a high steeple, located on the riverbank, has a River Flood Gauge painted on its back wall, showing the heights of the major floods, the highest at 80 feet above the banks being the 1937 flood, followed by 1884 and 1913.  In addition to all the water damage, the 1937 flood overturned gas storage tanks located along the Mill Creek near the Crosley Corporation on Spring Grove Avenue, spilling a million gallons of gas which spread on the flood waters.  A snapped and arcing electrical trolley wire set the whole mass on fire, and the Mill Creek at that point became a sea of flame, destroying at least thirty buildings down to the water line.  (In 1947 the Millcreek Barrier Dam with its massive watergate was constructed along the line of the Sixth Street Viaduct to help control future flood waters; it did little to help with water pollution until very recently.)

Bonnie Altman (Templeton)

Gene, 

I am not Gail, but I think your family's escape from the Nazis would be interesting to many of us.

Ann Shepard (Rueve)

One final Cincinnati Chili post. Empress Chili celebrates 100 years. 
https://www.wvxu.org/local-news/2022-10-24/100-years-cincinnati-chili-public-library?_amp=true

Philip Spiess

And remember, to celebrate this anniversary you can find the recipe for Empress Chili at Post # 6092 (9-25-2022).  (It's easy to make!)

Philip Spiess

THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM  [per Edgar Allan Poe]

Gail Weintraub (Stern)

Gene,

Please post the story of your family's escape from the Nazis on this Message Forum site. It is the most appropriate venue for engaging our classmates. Although many do not post, many more do view the Message Forum site.

We would enjoy reading your story. It would also give other classmates an opportunity to share their family stories.

Looking forward to reading yours.

Gail

Richard Winter

I look forward to hearing Gene's family story. 

Meanwhile, I'll share one story from my family history, no doubt far less dramatic.   

My paternal grandfather, Tevya Winter, was a baker in eastern Poland in early 1914 when he learned that he was about to be conscripted into the army of the Czar (Poland was at that time occupied by Russia).   This would not have been a good place to be, especially for a Jewish man, so we are fortunate that he managed to get passage to the US before they came to get him.

He ended up working in a bakery in Dayton OH, saved money as fast as he could, and within a few months sent steamship tickets for my grandmother and their two children, one of whom was my father, Chaim Moshe.  Then World War One broke out and mail to Eastern Europe was badly disrupted.  According to family lore, the tickets arrived in 1921 -- seven years later.   My Dad entered the US at age 11 as Harry Maurice Winter -- a name no doubt suggested by a helpful immigration agent on Ellis Island.  

So, my ancestors on my father's side came here between 1914 and 1921, which makes them much more fortunate than those who stayed behind.  Two of my grandfather's first cousins left for Israel at the same time he came to America.  They survived and often visited us when I was a child.  One of their grandsons is exactly my age and I met him on a family trip to Israel in 1977.   He was a tank commander in the Israeli army and fought in the Six Day Way and the Yom Kippur War -- quite a contrast with the way I spent my youth.  I admired his courage but was glad I got to spend my 20's in Ann Arbor, Michigan and Cambridge, Massachusetts, not fighting wars in the desert.  Of course, he was grateful to have grown up in Israel, not in Poland.  My father's mother was one of thirteen brothers and sisters.  She was the only one of the thirteen who got out of Poland and thus was the only one not killed by the Nazis.

As an immigrant Jew, my father faced a lot of discrimination here from the 1920's through the 1960's.  His high school counselor told him in 1928 that Jews, especially Jews from poor families, couldn't expect to go to college.   He ignored that and worked his way through the University of Cincinnati College of Engineering on the Co-op Program.   He faced employment discrimination through most of his career but managed to find his way and played a significant role in the manufacturing that helped us win World War Two.  My Dad was a patriot, proud of his country, and aways grateful for the life he was able to have here, where he could have a Jewish family, live in safety, and give his children education and opportunity.

Considering all this, I feel extremely grateful to have grown up in the United States and to have gone to Walnut Hills High School.   

 

Gene Stern

Me my Mother and sister on the USS General Muir, a WWII military transport, crossing the Atlantic and landing at Ellis Island on June 14, 1951 I was sired at the Essen slave labor camp and born on Jan 4 1946. 

All of the slave laborers were forced march out of the Essen camp near the end of April with the Americsn army fighting their way south. My Dad said to my Mom, "they are not taking us to a picnic but will probably  shoot us" As they came to a 90 degree turn, with one armed guard at the end of the line and one at the beginning, my Dad pulled my Mom and they ran and hid in a barn. While in the barn, A Nazi soldier came upon them, raised his rifle and my Mom begged him not to shoot the father  of her unborn child (Me!)

Shortly thereafter an American soldier from Chicago found my parents and as he and my Dad could converse in Polish, my Dad ended up working for a British General as s physician in Latvian displaced persons camps until the First United Presbyterian Church of Avondale sponsored our family in the USA  I attended South Avondale, Rockfdale Temple and North Avondae elementary until my parents bought a house in Winton Place  Upon graduating from Winton Plaсe elementary I was accepted at WHHS and  started my history that we all did ending with our graduation in 1964.

Philip Spiess

These both are important stories.  That is why we must maintain this Forum -- in whatever form in the future, and perhaps Walnut Hills High School should as well (it could be a source for history classes) -- as an historical archives.  I myself will readily admit that, although it is a bit of a stereotypical statement to say (as was often said in our day at school) that "Walnut Hills was 1/3 white Protestant, 1/3 Black, and 1/3 Jewish" (and the equivalents were no doubt wrong), nevertheless the fact that I grew up with -- and studied with -- and associated with -- my own kind (white Protestants), but also with African Americans, and with folks of several stripes of the Jewish faith, I feel was terribly important, not only to my upbringing as a spiritual and loving person, but also to my development as a world-conscious cultural person as well.  (Hail, Walnut Hills!)

I would like to add a slightly different story of the Nazi regime's Holocaust, not just about Jews but about Protestants as well.  This is not my story, but the story of my former boss, now deceased, at Browne Academy, whose picture you can see at Forum Post # 6122 (10-21-2022) (he's on the left).  His name, as I knew him, was Alex Clain-Steffanelli, though that, as you will see, was as newly created as Gene Stern's new family name.  Alex's parents, father an Austrian, mother a Romanian, had both been professors at the University of Berlin when the Nazis took over.  As anti-Nazi Party intellectuals, they were rounded up in the 1940s and quarantined (yes, my boss said it was viewed as a "concentration camp") in Berlin itself; as a result, my boss was born (circa 1943) in a Berlin hospital "in concentration."

His father and mother were freed by the Allies at the end of World War II, but, "being German" (remember that one was Austrian, the other Romanian), were viewed with suspicion.  So the family -- father, mother, and son -- emigrated to post-war Italy, namely Rome, where they were viewed much more tolerantly.  The family Clain (an Austrian name) adopted the postscript name "Steffanelli," as sounding much more Italian, and therefore hoping to blend in.  Thus my boss, as a child, grew up playing on the hills of Rome (a matter which led to his teaching Roman history, as did I after him).  His father, unable to pursue any further academic career, took up the trade of being a dealer in coins and medals, namely, a "numismatist"; his mother became his father's assistant.  Eventually they migrated to New York, and thence to Washington, D. C.

The rest is not long to tell.  The Clain-Steffanellis, father and mother, became the Curators of Numismatics at the Smithsonian Institution's National Museum of American History, and basically created its collections of coins, paper money, and medals in the Smithsonian as they exist today.  The son, Alex, my boss as head of the Middle School at Browne Academy in Alexandria, became first a teacher and then a head of school at several Washington-area private schools, eventually ending up at Browne Academy, where he was my son's middle school history and geography teacher before becoming head of the Middle School there and hiring me to replace him as teacher of History and Geography. 

Gene Stern

Phil:  I recall that Dave Schneider and I were doing the "grand moose" outside of Bailey's classroom and that was the reason for us getting wacked by Biff. Maybe you can give us a history of the "grand moose"?

Richard Winter

Gene,

What a story! And, what a great photo! I'm so glad that it all worked out for you and your family.

Richard

Dale Gieringer

        Our classmate Ruth Carter's parents were refugees from a Polish concentration camp  (I believe it may have been Auschwitz).  And the Rothfelds, Katie and Anita, one grade below and above us, were children of Austrian Jewish refugees.  

        As another portestant resident from the white Anglo-German ghetto of Westwood, let me second Philip's remarks about the diversity of our class.  The one thing we were short on was Catholics, but that's because they had their own college prep school.   Of course there weren't any evident LBGTQ's, either,  but that was a different era.