Bea’s Story

I mentioned several posts ago that Carolyn (Peters) Stucky has shared a box of items from our family history. One of those items is a three-page, typewritten manuscript labeled Beatrice Buller’s Story. Since the last post discussed Henry and Bea’s experience as MCC relief workers, now seems an appropriate time to share Bea’s story as recounted in her own words.

WALLS AND WINDOWS: I Was a Stranger and You Took Me in

Ask most teen-agers today what the word “Holocaust” means and you’ll be met with a blank stare or shrugging shoulders. Ask most young people what they know about World War II and you’ll receive similar reactions. Except for a few movies and television programs, some as inane as Hogan’s Heroes, our children are learning very little about those war times, the persecution of the Jews, the death camps. Some kooks even pretend the Holocaust never happened. That’s why my pastor in Beaumont reminded me of the importance of telling and re-telling my life story and of explaining how the living testimony of Mennonite relief workers in France helped me to find Christ and His peace and how I felt safe and sheltered in the caring community of the Mennonite church.

Yes, the theme “WALLS and WINDOWS” seems very fitting for my experiences as a German-Jewish refugee, a holocaust survivor, who found in the midst of war and strife the small redemptive community of Mennonite and Quaker relief workers serving war sufferers “in the Name of Christ.”

I was born in a German-Jewish family in Duisburg on the Rhine. My father, an attorney, was put into prison during the first few months of the Hitler regime. His crime: being Jewish. My parents were non-practicing Jews but, under Hitler, religion did not count, he declared us racially inferior and so at age 12 I soon learned what it meant to be rejected, undesirable, even an enemy of the people. After 6 weeks, my father was released from prison and decided to leave Germany and start a new life in Belgium. The rest of our family joined him one year later, except for my older brother who had to stay in Germany to complete an apprenticeship in the shoe industry. My parents had decided to take him out of an academic high school and place him in a trade that promised more immediate earning possibilities … an important consideration for refugees. When he finished his training, he could not live with us in Belgium, because it was impossible to get a work permit at that time and so he emigrated to the United States. From that time on, our wish to be reunited as a family led us to apply for a US visa as well. But the mills of legal US Immigration grind exceedingly slowly and the German troops invaded various parts of Europe and thus our hopes for a new life in the US were cancelled twice. It took my parents 8 years from the time they first applied for a visa, till they finally stepped on American soil. I cannot tell you all the details today except that in December 1941, when we thought we were well on our way to the US, we were stranded in Lyon, France when Pearl Harbor was attacked and America entered the war. Confused, worried and disheartened we found our way to the MCC office where Joe Byler and Henry Buller received us very kindly. But they did not know themselves whether they would be allowed to stay in France, now that the US had entered the war. Our US visas were cancelled because the US now was at war with Germany and considered us Germans (which meant enemies), even though the Germans had taken our citizenship away for leaving Germany. We were their enemies, too, they felt.

I’ve had a lot of practice being considered “enemy” or at least undesirable. When Hitler came to power in 1932, we became enemies because we were Jews. When we fled to Belgium, we lost our German nationality, they called it “ausgebuergert” [expatriated, denaturalized]. It was strange, Hitler did not want Jews to leave Germany, even though they were “enemies,” so Germany revoked our nationality and we were stateless. In Belgium we were treated kindly for seven years, but when the Germans overran and occupied Belgium, we were enemies again. We fled to Unoccupied France with the help of the French underground, arrived in Lyon, France five days before Pearl Harbor and automatically became enemies again, this time to the Americans. Later in 1944, when I came to the US, even though I was married to Henry Buller by then..... (that’s a whole other story) I was classified as an enemy alien. I could not own a gun, a short wave radio set and every time I wanted to travel more than 10 miles from Akron, PA I had to apply for permission in writing to the Attorney General in Philadelphia. (I was working at MCC Headquarters for 18 months while Henry had gone overseas again on his second 3-year term of relief work in England, Germany and France.)

I did not mind too much being considered an enemy alien in the US, because I lived in the nurturing community of the MCC Headquarters family. This is another time when I experienced the sheltering and shielding walls of a vibrant faith community. From the C.P.S. men and their families, from Irving Horst, my boss in the Publications Section and from all my new Mennonite friends, I learned a great deal to help my new faith grow and also to become acquainted with my new country. This is where windows were opened to me. I learned to look out at the world with a new vision of love and compassion and with a desire to serve God and His children. I cannot emphasize enough how formative those 18 months in Akron were for me. That is where I received an important part of my education, both spiritual and temporal … Within those sheltering walls of that MCC community, I felt safe even though the war was not over, I felt loved even though my husband could not be with me and my family was still in danger in Europe and I learned to look out through large, clear windows upon a world that needs Christ’s message of peace, forgiveness and servanthood.

P.S. Oh, so you want to hear a bit more about that “whole other story” and what happened to my family? Well, in 1941 when we had asked Joe Byler and Henry Buller for advice, I mentioned that I could type and do shorthand in German, French and English … so they hired me. Joe Byler soon returned to the US and Henry and I worked in the Lyon MCC office together. We also discussed all the problems of the world. It was the first time that I realized that the Christian religion is more than going to church every Sunday and singing and praying … that it is a life-changing belief which makes people leave their homes and serve in dangerous places without a thought for their own comfort or safety. I read the Bible for the first time and soon wanted to be baptized and join the Mennonite church too … but WWII developments complicated that a bit too. Nov. 10, 1942 German troops occupied all of France and the city of Lyon, too. The Swiss Mennonite minister who had planned to come to baptize me and marry us, could not enter France but Henry and I were legally married at the city hall on November 11, 1942, the day the Germans occupied Lyon. Three weeks later we were interned in Baden-Baden, Germany for a year and 6 days with US diplomats and in March ‘44 we were exchanged against a group of Germans who had been interned in the US. My parents remained in France and lived under an assumed name, narrowly escaping being sent to concentration camp twice. My older brother had joined the US Army, my younger brother the French Resistance, (and I had become a conscientious objector). My family was finally able to come to the States at the end of the war in 1945. My older brother is Jewish, my younger brother became Catholic and with my Anabaptist-Mennonite faith, we are a very ecumenical, loving family.

Although Bea did not set out to write a history of her life, we can gather several details from her story and then supplement them from other sources to fill out her biography.

Bea reports that she was born in Duisburg, Germany, where her father was an attorney. She recounts that several months after Hitler came to power, her father was imprisoned. Since Hitler became chancellor on 30 January 1933, we can date her father’s imprisonment to sometime in the first half of 1933. Bea indicates that she was twelve at the time.

Bea’s father was released from prison in mid-1933, after which he moved to Belgium. We are not told where in Belgium he lived, but it was presumably reasonably close, since the Belgium border was only 50 miles southwest of Duisburg. The rest of the family except Bea’s older brother joined him in Belgium the following year, that is, 1934.

Bea’s older brother, we are told, emigrated to the U.S. after finishing his training in the shoe industry; the date of his emigration is not given, although several hints help us to narrow down the time frame. Bea reports toward the end of her story that her family finally made it to the U.S. in 1945, eight years after they had first applied for a visa in order to be reunited with Bea’s older brother. This means that he had emigrated sometime between 1934 and 1937.

The next signpost on the way is the report that, after living in Belgium for seven years, Bea, her parents, and her younger brother fled, with the assistance of the French underground, to the unoccupied zone of France. They arrived in Lyon, France, on 2 December 1941, five days before the Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbor. That attack, of course, brought the U.S. into the war against the Axis powers (most notably, Japan, Germany, and Italy). Unable to proceed further due to their identity as German-born persons, the family was stranded in Lyon. 

Providentially, Bea’s family went to the MCC office in Lyon, where she met and then worked alongside Henry Buller and eventually married him on 11 November 1942. As has been already reported (see here and here), Bea and Henry were interned for a little more than a year—a year and six days, Bea reports here—then were released as part of a prisoner exchange and traveled to the safety of the U.S. First Henry and then, after at least eighteen months, Bea returned to Europe to continue their work with the MCC.

What of the rest of the family? According to Bea, her parents remained in France living under assumed identities until they were finally allowed to emigrate to the U.S. in 1945. Bea’s older brother, who had emigrated in the mid-1930s, had in the meantime joined the U.S. Army. Her younger brother had joined the French underground. It was only sometime after the end of the European conflict on 8 May 1945 that Bea’s parents (and brother?) finally made it to the U.S.

Such is the account that we can reconstruct from Bea’s story. Remarkably, neither her parents nor her two brothers are named. Fortunately, other sources fill in the blanks somewhat. 

For example, we learn from Bea’s obituaries (several are posted online) that she was born 25 September 1920 and passed away on  12 October 2008 (see, e.g., here). We are also told that she was survived by her brother Gerard. Presumably that statement also signals that her other brother and both parents had passed away before her. None of the obituaries gives their names.

Thankfully, other sources fill in those blanks. According to the GRANDMA database, Bea’s father was Richard A. Rosenthal, and her mother’s maiden name was Marie Neumark. An entry at Ancestry.com (here) supports and supplements this identification, listing her other brother as Kenneth L. Rosenthal. To be honest, the name Kenneth does not sound particularly Jewish or German. Another source (here) gives his name as Kurt Lutz Rosenthal, and yet another listing at Ancestry.com (here) gives his name first as Kurt Lutz Rosenthal and lists Kenneth L. Rosenthal as an alternate form (presumably the name he used in the U.S.). In the end, it is safe to conclude that Bea’s older brother (the sources agree that he was born in 1917) was originally named Kurt and probably later went by Kenneth. According to most records, he died in 2002, six years before Bea.

Remarkably enough, Bea’s younger brother Gerard, who was born in 1923, appears to still be alive at age one hundred. One cannot be certain about this, but there is no trace of an obituary, and several sources list a current address. Again, the name Gerard sounds more French than German or Jewish, which raises the possibility that this was not his birth name. A listing at Ancestry.com (here) fills in the blank, noting that Gerard was also (previously?) known as Gerd Ernest Felix Rosenthal. Even more interesting is the fact that Gerard’s testimony was taken and recorded by the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum (here).

One final tantalizing note: like the name Gerard, Beatrice is generally considered a French name, not a German or Jewish one. Thus it is not surprising to see that one source (here) indicates that Beatrice was also (previously?) known as Berta. Could it be that some members of the family adopted new names (recall that Bea’s parents lived under assumed identities) during their French sojourn? A name change would help to explain how Berta/Beatrice’s Jewish identity went undetected by the Nazis. It seems that there is much more to Bea’s story than we will ever come to know.

Henry and Bea

Another online treasure recently discovered (see earlier “Arrival from Russia” here) is the full run of the Mennonite Historical Bulletin (1940–2012), a publication of the Historical Committee of the Mennonite General Conference (see here). The April 1984 issue (here) includes an article that will interest many readers of this blog: Rachel Shenk’s “Mennonite Central Committee in Europe, 1940–70.”

As many of you know, Grandpa Chris’s younger brother Henry and Henry’s wife Bea were active in the MCC’s relief work in Europe during the 1940s. Not surprisingly, Henry and Bea are mentioned several times in the letters that constitute the bulk of the article. Although the entire article is well worth reading, I highlight here the references to Henry and Bea.

Henry first appears in a letter written by Henry Wiens on 12 June 1941 that describes the nature and the location of their relief work: 

Here in Lyon our milk distribution in the schools ceased about May 1, as the Red Cross program commenced. We have, however, been conducting a school feeding program through the cantines scolaires [school canteens]. … we have been furnishing about 2500 meals a day to the neediest school children in Lyon. The poor children suffer especially during these times, for their parents are not able to buy the nonrationed and much more expensive foods, such as fresh fruits and vegetables. They are confined almost exclusively to the very lean rations of bread, macaroni, and other staples. Moreover, we have distributed here in Lyon some 540,000 squares of vitamin A chocolate candies for the Quakers. This made a tremendous impression upon the local population and upon the school children. …

We are also distributing five tons of rice and five tons of pois chiches [chick peas] among the school children in the nearby industrial city of Saint Etienne, a city about forty miles south-west of Lyons. Being chiefly a coal mining region, the people are very poor and consequently suffer intensely. Either Mr. Buller or I have been going to Saint Etienne about once or twice a week to administer this project for the Quakers, as they are furnishing everything in the way of funds. Although we represent the Quakers there, we indicate that we are Mennonites and so the Mennonites also get considerable credit for this. … Moreover, we have also been distributing vitamins for the Quakers at Saint Etienne. We are distributing a total of 1,200,000 doses of vitamins for the Quakers there. As far as I know, the Mennonite office in Lyon has been responsible for the largest single distribution of vitamins in France by a non-French organization, and possibly we have distributed more vitamins than even any single branch of a French relief organization. (Shenk 1984, 3)

From this extract we learn that Henry and other members of the MCC relief team were distributing food and vitamins, among other staples, to the poor and needy people of Lyon and the surrounding area. The mention of Lyon is important, since it not only tells us where Henry and Bea were located but also provides insight into their situation.

As noted above, the letter was written in June 1941. By then, France had surrendered to Germany and the other Axis powers, and the nation had been divided into two regions: a northern zone occupied by German troops and a southern zone governed by the French Vichy government, which had been set up to collaborate with the Germans. As seen in the map below, Lyon was in Vichy France.

In other words, during this time Henry and his MCC colleagues were distributing supplies in the zone governed by French authorities, although under the ultimate authority of the Germans. This information helps us understand better the situation described in a second letter by Wiens, this one dated 28 June 1941:

I should like to add to what I have said before, namely, that the Mennonites were always much more conservative toward a possible evacuation than most of the other delegates. When the crisis broke about May 15, I happened to be in Marseilles. People talked as though we would all have to leave within ten days. When I suggested that we would still be here for the fourth of July, I was roundly laughed at. It is hard to imagine the hysteria that prevailed there then, and even more afterwards. There were many reasons for this, including the fact that the Marseilles consulate was apparently unusually nervous. In fact, about two weeks ago, the American Consulate at Marseilles was making it a regular policy to telephone the Quaker office every other day, asking them how many had left for America, and warning the rest to leave as soon as possible. About June 15, Brother Hoover was definitely notified by the Quaker office that it would be best for him, since he had a wife and obliga­tions at home, to leave within a week. Upon Brother Hoover’s request, Brother Buller and I went to Marseilles immediately for a conference. We all agreed that there was no immediate danger, and that as long as telegraphic communications were open with America, we did not intend to leave without first com­municating with you. We also ab­solved the Quakers of all responsibility for the evacuation of the Mennonite delegation, except that we hoped we would be kept informed of the general situation. At the same time, the Quakers received a reassur­ing telegram from Afserco, Phila­delphia. At a general meeting of the delegate, we indicated that we believ­ed that the work could continue rather indefinitely, and that the Mennonite work would go ahead as usual. (Shenk 1984, 4)

The crisis mentioned in the letter, dated to about 15 May, was presumably the negotiations (to use the term loosely) before and the signing of the Paris Protocols between Germany and the Vichy government led by Marshal Pétain. That is the agreement that led to the division of France into an occupied zone and an unoccupied zone. Clearly, some non-French residents of the unoccupied zone feared that they would lose their freedom.

So it was that, six months later, on 22 December 1941, another MCC worker, Joseph N. Byler, wrote:

I have just been to see Mr. Vance and he informs me that, while they will do all they can to help us leave with them, if and when they leave, they can give us no guarantee that it will be possible. So the situa­tion is not at all as easy as I have hoped. It seems to me that it is up to us to decide definitely what we want to do. I am writing Mr. Kirshner to find out if the Quakers are leaving at this time. I also want to know what he thinks are the chances of getting both money and supplies for the continua­tion of relief. Buller has decided to stay for the time being. For myself, I am still undecided. I may wait and chance going with the consular staff. … I think we will have to face the facts. If you decide to stay, it may mean considerable hardship and a long duration. Of course, we may be able to leave with the Consulate, but we cannot bank on that too much. It is my personal feeling that it might be best for you to leave if the Quakers are leaving. I should know what they are doing in a few days.… (Shenk 1984, 4)

In November 1942, less than a year after Byler’s letter, German forces occupied the southern zone where the MCC relief work was located. Henry and Bea, along with Lois Gunden, continued the work to the best of their ability until they were taken into German custody in early 1943 (Shenk erroneously gives the year as 1944). They were then interned in a hotel-prison in Baden-Baden, Germany, 260 miles to the northeast of Lyon.

A July 1946 MCC report offers additional details:

On the morning of November 11, 1942, the German armies crossed over the demarcation line and totally occupied France. This date became a turning point of our French relief program which had been started in the summer of 1940 by Ernest Bennett. We were at this moment carry­ing on two major projects: the con­valescent home at Canet-Plage, where Lois Gunden was stationed, and the boys home of Tourvielle; this latter in cooperation with the city of Lyon. The next two months before going into internment, we spent look­ing about for someone to carry on our program and placing our funds in such a manner that general requisi­tioning would not reach them. 

Through our friend, Mr. Samuel Ybargoyen, counsul of Uruguay at Lyon, we found Mr. Roger Georges, who carried on the work of the Secours Mennonites throughout the war period. Mr. Roger Georges car­ried on with the funds that were left him and kept the home of Canet­-Plage going, as well as opening up other homes as the demands for evacuating children from the bomb­menaced cities increased. The money that we left Mr. Georges, of course, was not sufficient to keep the pro­gram going indefinitely, but Mr. Georges was able to secure subsidies from French organizations, official and otherwise, so that children could be maintained away from the danger of warfare. It was thus that at the end of March, 1945, when Bros. Sam Goering and Henry Buller arrived in France, they found a larger program in operation than the interned workers had left. (Shenk 1984, 5)

Although the general outline of events is clear, some details remain fuzzy. For example, Shenk (1984, 5) writes that the Mennonite workers were interned for a year and a half, but Bea’s Mennonite Weekly Review obituary (here) states simply that is was “more than a year.” Henry’s obituary (here) supports the shorter time frame, dating the internment from January 1943 to February 1944. 

Another discrepancy concerns Henry and Bea’s return to France after being released. According to Shenk (1984, 5), all three detainees returned to the United States after their release, then after the war ended (8 May 1945) Henry and Bea returned to their MCC work in France. Bea’s obituary offers a different story, reporting that Henry returned to France “soon after their release in February 1944.” The MCC report, for its part, dates Henry’s return to late March 1945, which was not only nine months after D-Day but also within weeks after Allied forces had pushed the Germans entirely out of France and back into Germany. In this case, it seems best to accept the MCC report’s precise and entirely reasonable dating rather than the ambiguous “soon after” of Bea’s obituary. According to Bea’s obituary, she joined Henry in France only after the war. 

Although this post has filled in some details of our family history, there is so much more waiting to be discovered and remembered. For example, research for this post uncovered an article titled “Guests of the Gestapo,” which includes interviews of U.S. diplomatic personnel originally stationed in Vichy France who had been interned in a hotel in Baden-Baden, Germany (see here). Although it is possible that this was a different hotel than the one in which Henry and Bea were interned, their respective accounts share striking details in common, which leads me to think that the interviewees were interned together with Henry and Bea. The intereviews are freely available online and well worth reading. In addition, to learn more about Henry, Bea, and their experiences, see the 2014 Buller Time post titled “Uncle Henry, Aunt Bea, and the Nazis” (here). 

Works Cited

“Guests of the Gestapo.” 2013. 9 July post on the website of the Association for Diplomatic Studies and Training. Available online here.

Shenk, Rachel. 1984. “Mennonite Central Committee in Europe, 1940–70.” Mennonite Historical Bulletin 45.2:1–9. Available online here.

Sheep and Feather Grass

My recent nighttime reading has been in volume 2 of Johann Cornies’s letters (Epp 2020). On several occasions Cornies mentions feather grass and the danger that it posed to sheep. For example, in his 17 November 1837 letter to the governor of the Taurida governate, Matvey Matveyevich Muromtsyov (Muromtsev), Cornies wrote:

In this region, sheep are often very thin during the summer, even with experienced owners. I would also mention that feather grass is very abundant on the local steppes and many sheep have died from it in several places. I have heard that in the region where Fein grazes his sheep, there is a huge amount of such grass. If you therefore took over 1,000 ewes from Fein this autumn and kept them over the winter at your own risk, it could easily happen that one third of the flock, or more, could die. It is also advisable to ask Fein whether the herd he is selling is free of “Raende” [bloating]. (Epp 2020, 89)

It is possible, though doubtful, that the bloating mentioned is somehow related to the feather grass. Beyond that, there is no hint at what about feather grass poses such a danger.

The following year Cornies returns to the same issue, this time in his 4 August 1838 letter to Wilhelm Martens: 

The steppes are as green as in May. However, the feather grass is abundant and we are perplexed as to how to protect our sheep from it. I am having a machine built that would supposedly operate easily and could be sold cheaply. If this were to succeed, I believe firmly that very many sheep might be saved from death. (Epp 2020, 130)

As before, we learn nothing about the specific danger that feather grass poses, only that it killed so many that Cornies was devising a machine to address the problem.

Eleven days later, on 15 August 1838, in a letter to Andrei M. Fadeev (the previous chairman of the Ekaterinoslav Bureau of the Guardianship Committee), Cornies wrote:

Feather grass is an evil that has befallen our sheep herds. It grew abundantly because of our frequent rains and grows as thickly as if it were a field of grain. I am having a machine built to cut down the feather grass and reduce its evil effects that could result in the death of thousands of sheep. Should the machine work it will be of incalculable usefulness, saving many thousands of sheep from certain death. Once tests have been done, I will report their results. (Epp 2020, 135)

The specific danger that feather grass posed still remains unexplained. We read only that it threatened thousands of sheep within the Molotschna colony and that Cornies had commissioned construction of a machine to cut it down. Nearly a year later, in another letter to Fadeev (26 June 1839), Cornies reports that his machine had not worked as had hoped:

The implement that I had built last year to destroy feather grass has not proven itself. It was supposed to cut this grass, not uproot it. However, machine maker Dyck has now made a sketch of a different machine for this purpose that may well work. (Epp 2020, 182)

Nothing more is said of feather grass in Cornies’s letters and papers during this period. Still the question remains: Why was feather grass so dangerous to sheep? 

If the threat posed by feather grass was the same in the 1830s as it is today, which seems a reasonable assumption, then a recent article titled “Feather-Grass Disease of Agricultural Cattle: Diagnosis and Treatment” (Dovyd'ko 2023) may well hold the answer to our question. The article, which was published in Russian and in English (it appears that it was written in Russian and then machine-translated into English), is freely available online here. 

According to the article,

The disease occurs when animals are fed with feather grass hay, when they eat feather grass stems and grains, or when they graze in the steppe zones in areas where feather grass grows. The disease is common in sheep, cattle, and horses. (quotations from Dovyd'ko 2023 have been edited for clarity in English)

Cornies mentioned sheep grazing on the open steppe, which is one of the situations described here. The article then identifies two ways that feather grass seeds can damage livestock. First, “in sheep, the seeds and leaves of the feather grass are introduced into the wool and then work their way into the skin.” The skin may become infected and cause the animal discomfort, but the condition does not appear life-threatening. More serious is the ingestion of the feather grass seeds.

During the chewing process, the caryopsis [seed] and awn [bristle-like appendage] of the feather grass migrate from the oral cavity to the region of the parotid salivary gland, supraorbital cavity, jaw joint, intermaxillary space, and other parts of the head, where they cause the formation of fistulas, purulent-necrotic [pus-filled and tissue-killing] foci, the intensity of development of which depends on the level of their infections. … The injured tissue is edematous [swollen with an excessive accumulation of fluid], a limited inflammatory process is observed, followed by the formation of nonhealing fistulas, often pus-filled centers appear in the places where the awns are introduced, which gradually merge to form abscesses. Body temperature rises by 2–3 degrees Celsius. From constant anxiety and pain, animals become gradually exhausted. … With damage to the tissues of the intermaxillary space, chewing muscles, and tongue, the body temperature rises, and the animals quickly lose weight.

How might one diagnose feather grass disease? The article explains, “The most characteristic signs of feather grass disease are difficulty chewing food, salivation, coughing, and an unpleasant odor from the oral cavity.” It also outlines how to treat the disease: hydrogen peroxide, opening of abscesses, and use of antiseptic/antiobiotic therapy. 

These treatment options were not, of course, available to Cornies and the Mennonites of his day. Still, Cornies took the right approach in terms of prevention, since the article states that “the most effective means of dealing with feather grass is mowing the feather grass before it blooms.” This was precisely what Cornies intended with his machine, which “was supposed to cut this grass, not uproot it.” 

Cornies apparently understood that the problem was not with feather grass per se, which could be eaten by sheep and other animals, but rather with feather grass that had ripened and whose seeds posed a serious threat to the lives of any sheep who ate them.

Works Cited

Epp, Ingrid I., trans. 2020. 1836–1842. Vol. 2 of Transformation on the Southern Ukrainian Steppe: Letters and Papers of Johann Cornies. Edited by Harvey L. Dyck, Ingrid I. Epp, and John R. Staples. Tsarist and Soviet Mennonite Studies. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Available online here.

Dovyd'ko, Oleg. 2023. “Feather-Grass Disease of Agricultural Cattle: Diagnosis and Treatment.” Pioneer Produkt website. Available online here.

Ninety Years Ago Today

What can we say about 11 December 1933, ninety years ago today? Thanks to countless resources now available online, and with a little help from generative AI (Bard and ChatGPT), we can actually say quite a bit.

On 11 December 1933, Franklin D. Roosevelt was in the first year of his presidency. He would go on to serve three full terms before dying early in his fourth term (1933–1945). Fourteen presidents have since followed: Harry S. Truman (1945–1953), Dwight D. Eisenhower (1953–1961), John F. Kennedy (1961–1963), Lyndon B. Johnson (1963–1969), Richard M. Nixon (1969–1974), Gerald R. Ford (1974–1977), Jimmy Carter (1977–1981), Ronald Reagan (1981–1989), George Bush (1989–1993), Bill Clinton (1993–2001), George W. Bush (2001–2009), Barack Obama (2009–2017), Donald J. Trump (2017–2021), and Joseph R. Biden (2021–). Thus someone born on 11 December 1933 has seen exactly a third of all the U.S. presidents who have ever held office. To look at the matter differently, someone born on that date has been alive for 38.5 percent of our nation’s history since the ratification of the Constitution in 1789 (i.e., 90 of 234 years).

In other parts of the world, the Nazis had seized control of the German government in 1932, and Adolf Hitler, appointed chancellor early in 1933, now exercised absolute control over the nation. The Soviet Union, just as firmly in the grip of a dictatorial leader, Joseph Stalin, had just passed through a severe multiyear famine (1930–1933) that had led to the deaths of millions, including, in all likelihood, some from our broader Molotschna family. Since then, both the Third Reich and the Soviet Union, along with their tyrannical leaders, have ceased to exist, cast onto the proverbial dust heap of history (Trotsky).

On 11 December 1933, almost the entire world was in the throes of the Great Depression, whose start is typically dated to 1929. By 1933, the gross domestic product in the United States had decreased from its 1929 levels by 30 percent. Prices of goods produced fell dramatically, and the unemployment rate increased to nearly a quarter of the working population. This economic collapse extended across all classes and sectors of society, including America’s farms. Wheat, for example, sold for $1.50 a bushel in 1922 but only 57¢ on 11 December 1933. Likewise, corn fetched 85¢ a bushel in 1923 but only 30¢ in 1933. Not surprisingly, many farm families, unable to pay their mortgages or feed their children, were forced to walk away from the land into which they had poured their lives.

This is the world that someone born on 11 December 1933 entered. Of course, our world never stands still, and someone born that day has witnessed significant changes, challenges, and developments. Major world events include the establishment of Social Security (1934), Jesse Owens winning four gold medals (1936), the Spanish Civil War (1936–1939), the Hindenburg disaster (1937), World War II (1939–1945), D-Day (1944), atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki (1945), Jackie Robinson playing for the Brooklyn Dodgers (1947), the creation of the State of Israel (1948), the formation of NATO (1949), the establishment of the People’s Republic of China (1949), the Korean War (1950–1953), Elvis Presley recording his first single (1954), Sputnik I (1957), the admission of Alaska and Hawaii as states (1959), the assassination of Kennedy (1963), Israel’s Six-Day War (1967), the Green Bay Packers winning Super Bowls I and II (1967–1968) the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy (1968), the Apollo 11 moon landing (1969), Nebraska winning its first national championship (1971), the end of the Vietnam War (1973), Nixon’s resignation (1974), the death of Elvis Presley (1977), the Iranian Revolution (1979), the eruption of Mount St. Helens (1980), the launch of Apple Macintosh (1984), the Space Shuttle Challenger disaster (1986), the fall of the Berlin Wall (1989), the dissolution of the Soviet Union (1991), the creation of the European Union (1992), O. J. Simpson’s arrest and trial (1994), the founding of Google (1998), the September 11 terrorist attacks (2001), the invasion of Iraq (2003), the sale of the first iPhone (2007), the swine flu pandemic (2009), the killing of Osama bin Laden (2011), Russia’s annexation of Crimea (2014), Donald Trump’s election as president (2016), the COVID-19 pandemic (2019–2021), and Russia’s invasion of Ukraine (2022)—to name just a few.

Inventions since 1933 include items as mundane as the ballpoint pen and as spectacular as jet engines, the transistor, the personal computer, the cell phone, and (Bard tells me) artificial intelligence. Someone born in 1933 may well have begun life in a home without electricity or indoor plumbing; now one must go camping (or to an underdeveloped country) to experience that sort of life.

The price of a Ford Model T was $445 in 1933. Today’s Ford Escape ranges from $27,000 to $40,000. In 1933 an acre of Nebraska farmland cost, on average, $21.20; in 2023 it is $3,835. A loaf of bread was a nickel and a gallon of milk 30¢ in 1933; today that bread will cost at least $1.32 and the milk in excess of $3.00. The average cost of a gallon of gasoline was 18¢ in 1933; ninety years later it is “down” to $3.16.

Without a doubt, someone born on 11 December 1933 has experienced both lows and highs, challenges and successes, mourning and celebration. But reaching the milestone of ninety years of a life well lived is cause for pure, unrestrained celebration. So on this, your ninetieth birthday, Dad, all your family and loved ones not only celebrate with you but also celebrate you, May you have many, many more!