| Notes |
- RESEARCH_NOTES:
1. Censuses:
1960 LDS Church, FHL film 471796, May 1960, 1020 Gramercy, Ogden 21st Ward, Lorin Farr Stake:
Jack Merlin Petersen, Elder, b. 22 Mar 1932 at Ogden, UT.
Irene Lydie Nadia Filonoff De Lanskoy, member, b. 9 Aug 1933 at Nice, France.
Kerry Andre Petersen, child, b. 7 Aug 1954 in Ogden, UT.
Karen Lorie Petersen, child, b. 9 May 1956 in Ogden, UT.
Chris Robert Petersen, child, b. 9 May 1956 in Ogden, UT.
Notes previously of Ogden 8th Ward of the Lorin Farr Stake residing at 650 8th St.
2. Naturalization record, 1952, U.S. Naturalization Cert. dated 16 Nov 1955, District Court, Ogden, UT; Name change by Decree of Court to Irene Nadia (de Lanskoy) Petersen as a part of naturalization. Original first name was Lydie.
3. Nicolas Filonov is the birth father of Irene. Name reported to civil authorities in Nice at time of birth was Irene Nadia (and as Catholic) which concealed her Jewish ancestry later protecting her from future Nazi occupation and its anti-semitism in Nice, France. Nicolas de Lanskoy presented himself later 29 Mar 1946 as the father to the civil authorities in Nice which made him the legally recognized father according to civil records. He had no marriage relationship (but did have an intimate relationship) with her mother. Later De Lanskoy married Nevoussia 22 Nov 1958
4. Education: Commencement invitation, 10 May 1979, graduation from G.E.D. program, Anchorage, AK.
5. The newspaper "The Ogden (Utah) Standard-Examiner," Sunday evening, November 22, 1959, p. 2C:
"Person to Person.
From Europe.
Good to get back! … Mrs. Jack M. Petersen will arrive home today with her three children, Kerry, and twins, Karen and Chris, to join her husband, after seven months in Europe.
Mrs. Petersen, a native of Nice, France, has been there visiting her Russian parents, Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas de Lanskoy, who are now making their home in Nice. It was her first visit home in nine years.
Mrs. Petersen came to America is an LDS convert and receive her American citizenship papers four years ago. Mr. Petersen joined his family for a month in the summer and while there he and his family visited in Scotland, England, France, Italy, Austria, Switzerland, and Germany and Denmark.
"My wife's mother acted as interpreter," Mr. Petersen said, "as she speaks 14 languages. She was attached to the Russian Embassy in Washington, D.C., at the time of the Russian revolution."
He explained that after the overthrow of the Russian government, Mrs. Petersen's parents were exiled in France and have lived there since."
[Kerry's note: Article inaccurate in regards to Irene's correct parents and the number of languages spoken by her mother. Her mother was never married to Mr. Lanskoy; he was a family friend who gave his family name to Irene at her birth. Her mother spoke Russian, German, French, and English.]
6. Irene's recollection: "I only had had one that I called my Godmother. Her name was Andree Blin (double e is not a mistake as in French a female Andree would have an accent on the first e) and she was not my official Godmother. The Official one I never met. Her first name was Lydie as my middle name used to be till I dropped it when I received my Citizenship. Andree was a great friend of ours and when Kerry was a Missionary she had a man in her life but not married. Kerry tried to teach them the Gospel but to no avail but they did get married from his efforts. His last name was Mr. Bailet and I have a picture of them. She lived at 49 rue Rossini in Nice. Her uncle was a Catholic Cardinal and she did private beauty facials and beauty massages. She declared my name at the Town Hall at my birth, my Godfather's name was Hubert de Von Den Brook (sp) he was a priest helper at the Church (nice guy)."
7. 1957 New Year's greeting card from Suzanne Hindzee to Irene Petersen. Image is on FamilySearch. The card is hand painted by "LV" who is certainly Lydia Volant, who also adds a note to the top of the next page. Lydia is Suzanne's daughter. Anjoute is Anna Herzenberg Landau. It is there first contact after Irene left for America. Translation:
"Dear little Irene. [Added at top:] Best wishes for a good year from Lydie. I was happy to receive your nice card which gave me great pleasure. I am happy to finally know your address because I had learned from Aunt Aniute that you were gone to America. But I did not know the circumstances of your departure and that gave me concern that you left all alone so far away. Also I am happy to know that you are happy, because you deserve it. You have done well to write to me since I take interest in all you do. Have you any news from Nice? Aunt Anjoute has not written to me about your mother -- I am going to write to her directly. Write to me, tell me about your life and if you need any special service, I will do my best to do it. I wish you meanwhile lots of happiness, and health in the year 1957, that you will be happy and joyous. I wait for news and hug you with all my strength. Your aunt Suzanne."
8. Christmas greeting 1958. Image on Family Search. "Dear Irene, I am writing to you from Canada. Your mom probably told you I have left to rejoin my daughter Lydie who lives at Scarborough near Toronto. You see that I will not be far from you. I am eager to know about you and your family. I hope you are happy because you deserve it. Here we are working hard. News from you gives me pleasure. Have a great Christmas and lots of happiness in the year 1959. Your aunt Suzanne. Write me: 39, Thornbeck Drive, Scarborough, Ontario, Canada."
9. Christmas card postmarked Dec. 7, 1959 from Mrs. S[uzanne] Hindzee, 356, Quebec Avenue, Toronto W. (Ontario) Canada to Irene Petersen, 1020 Gramercy Avenue, Ogden, Utah. Image on FamilySearch. This would have been when Irene with her three children returned from France:
"Dear Irene, I wish you a Merry Christmas in returning from Europe, as well as lots of happiness and health to you and all your family. I think that your mom told you that I had come here [Canada] to rejoin my daughter. Canada pleases me well but I love France more. I hope to have good news from you and perhaps to see you again one day. How old are your children? Lydie has two children; boy and girl, 4 and 2 years old. Aunt Anioute [Anna Landau] wrote to me that you have some beautiful children. I am happy for you. Affectionate regards from your cousin (or aunt) Suzanne Hindzee."
10. Letter dated 19 Feb 1960 from Suzanne Hindzee to Irene Petersen. Images of original on FamilySearch:
"Mrs. S. Hindzee
356, Quebec Ave
Toronto W
Toronto, February, 19, 1960
My dear Irene,
I cannot thank you enough for your nice letter, which reading it brought me great pleasure. Also, through your account, I am able to better know your life.
I understand that you yearn to come back to your American home, after tasting European life and seeing mom again in this charming region of Vence.
Unfortunately, life and material needs lead you and bring you, [French idiom “vous mènent et vous aménent”, in English it would probably be simpler such as “lead your way”], where we would expect the least to go.
Me too I can’t keep from yearning all the more as I am getting to know and acclimate to the American way of life. [page 2] However, what matters the most is the world we are creating or what is being created around us. And this world is your new family, your dear children (who I would like to meet), as for me, my daughter, and my grand-children’s [world] whom I love so much and for whom I continue and strive to live here.
Me too, I would be happy to see you again, since we are both on the same continent. I think we could get to meet each other, sometime in the near future. If you come here, it is very easy except for the matter of your children and the consequent travel costs. On my side, it would be easier for me to travel, being alone. Yet, my work hinders me as I started to work here in October 1958 (almost one year and a half] at Toronto General Hospital. [page 3] (My material situation obliges me). I cannot go away more than 3 days in a row (if I am “off”). But in summer I will have holidays 2 weeks + 2 days = 16 days. On this occasion, I intend to rent a cottage “up North,” in the region of the Georgia Bay. Or maybe instead, in those [regions] with non-freezing water lakes such as the water of Ontario, so that my daughter can come there with her 2 kids Robert 4 ½ years old and Martine who will be 3 years old in June. It would be wonderful if you could join us with your children. What do you think about that? I expect to do that in the month of August. If this would be doable for you, please send me your suggestions.
I would also be happy to receive on that occasion, a little picture of your family as I send you a picture of my daughter and her two children.
[In margin page 1] I sent a Christmas card to Katiocha your mom, but I did not receive an answer, which is quite unlike her. Has she changed addresses?
[In margin page 2] I will always be happy to hear from you and to write to you, though on my end, I often keep quiet, being usually very busy. Indeed. I am waiting to read more about you soon, and in the meantime, I hug you as well as your dear little ones, and forward my friendly greetings to your spouse and your family. Your cousin, Suzanne Hindzee.
[In margin page 3] Dear Irene, before I leave you, I have to tell you I often think about you because I have very good memories of you. You still are for me this charming little girl, so courageous that I used to know and who is now in her turn a brave mom…”
11. 7 Feb 1962 Letter from Suzanne Hindzee to Irène Petersen. Images of original on FamilySearch:
Envelope postmarked 16 Feb 1962 from Toronto and addressed to Mrs and Mr Jack Petersen, Hi-way 30 Motel, 7121 Fairview, Boise, Idaho, U.S.A. (address crossed out and forwarded to 7040 Rosewood in Boise.
"Mrs. S. Hindzee
40 Cadorna Ave.
Toronto 6
(Ont) Canada
Dearest Irene,
I was very happy to receive your nice Christmas card, most of all because it was bearing at latest news from you. I was asking myself how you were doing, worried that your silence meant some misfortune or hassles came your way, keeping you silent. Nevertheless, I was not quite angry at you, knowing that anyways with your three little ones; you must not have a lot of free time. I do not know if I should congratulate you for the change happening in your life even though the new situation of your husband will most certainly relieve considerably your financial burdens. However, [page 2] I can guess you regret leaving your old house, which you built through so many sacrifices and where you had your routine. So tell yourself that it is essential. Your children are growing and they will need more space… and you will get used to it and perhaps love your new place. New beginnings are always difficult, we fell isolated, knowing nobody, but little by little everything changes. That is how it went for me, though under different circumstances, since I was already older when arrived here. And I had to reorganize my life in a very different way than what I had forecasted, and I had to work in totally different conditions. However, I stay here because I love my daughter and my grandchildren, and I am afraid to be kept apart from them maybe forever. For you as for me what keeps me here is my family. As such, I would be greatly happy to see you again after so many years and changes, since we are on the same continent. If I were free, I would not hesitate to fly to Boise and get to know your charming little family and hug you all from the deepest part of my heart. Alas, the impediment [to that travel] comes from [page 3] my work at the hospital. It is very rigid; I could maybe take holidays for 4 days in row, because we get 2 days off per week. To get to Boise from Toronto it takes one day, leaving at 1 p.m. from Toronto to Chicago, then Salt Lake City, you can get to Boise by 9.50 p.m. I guess it’s even longer taking the railway. But maybe we could meet again this summer. I will be on holidays for 2 weeks (16 days). I would have liked to invite to spend these 2 weeks in the cottage I intend on renting, as I have been doing for the last 2 years at Wasaga Beach, on the coast of the Georgia Bay. It would be fun for the children who are mostly all of the same age. Robert is now 6 years old, Martine 4 ½ years old. I could watch over the children while you and Lydie go out in the evening to the movies or wherever. For you, it must be easier to come by car. I know there would be the cost of gas, but since you [page 4] would be invited, it could work as a compensation. What do you think about my idea? On my side, it looks quite attractive. Lydie will also be very happy to see you again and for the children it will be quite a treat. Wasaga is a very nice place for kids with a huge sand beach and swimming is safe. G. Bay is very large and looks quite like the Mediterranean. What do you think about that? If you make the decision to accept my offer, just tell me so I can rejoice. I can take holidays in August (at the beginning). What are your plans and those of your husband? I hope you will give me a heads up. How is your Kerry? I hope his throat ache went away and everybody is in good health. [I hope] your construction ended happily and that you feel good now in your home in Boise. I will be waiting for news from you my dear little Irene and my thoughts are with you.
[In margin] Give my kisses to your little ones and friendly feelings to your husband that I will be happy to meet. Your Aunt Suzanne."
12. Letter dated 3 Jul 1962 from Suzanne Hindzee to Irene Petersen in Boise, Idaho. Irene and family had just moved from Ogden, Utah, to Boise, Idaho. Images of original on FamilySearch:
"Mrs. S. Hindzee
40, Cadorna Ave
Toronto 6 (Ont)
Toronto, July 3, 1962
Dearest Irene,
It’s been long since I had some news from you – 6 months – since Christmas. I can imagine you have been very busy moving into your new house. Everything must be organized anew and it takes time to do it all. I hope you managed well and you are enjoying it now. How are you and all your family, I hope each one of you is in good health. Despite your silence, I heard from you through Katioucha (your mom). It’s her who [page 2] told me you were very busy. She also asks me if I can go see you before I go back to Europe. I would do it willingly, even though I have not decided yet the date of my departure. Alice, who wrote to me, asked if I could come in August. I do not think I would be able to go away so fast, since I still have to get rid of my furniture etc. I would be very pleased to see you before my departure, alas you are so far from us. It would take me a day to travel, even with the plane. I will get information from American Travel that I have not contacted yet. Don’t you think it would be better that we met at half point, as for example, if I went on holidays somewhere closer to you. I leave it to you for the best solution because I would really like to please your mother. And I would like to have the pleasure of meeting your husband and your two children. While waiting [margin page 2] to hear from you, I send you my kindest hugs to share with your children. Friendliest thoughts to your husband. Kindly yours, your cousin (aunt). Suzanne.
[In margin page 1] If you can, write my address in the envelope (when you answer me) in typed letters or with a typewriter, because here if the address is not written correctly, the post office does not get the letter through.”
13. Letter dated 27 Jul 1962 from Suzanne Hindzee to Irene Petersen in Boise, Idaho. Suzanne had visited Boise and this letter was written on her return to Toronto, Canada. Original on FamilySearch:
Toronto, July 27, 1962
Dearest Irene
I am writing to you directly upon my arrival to give some news about my return trip. I traveled with the train in rather good conditions (besides fleas who feasted on me) next to American navy sailorman probably off duty. He was very well educated and I could sleep in peace. I spent the rest of the time in the “Dome,” eating the delicious food that you prepared so nicely for me. Therefore, I avoided lunch and dinner in the dining-car and only went there for breakfast because I had quickly run out of tea.
I arrived in Chicago slightly late at 10:30 a.m. and it was already 11:30 a.m. C.S.T. in Chicago. As it was, when I arrived at the Greyhound station, there was only one hour to wait for the departure of the bus to Toronto. I had to [page 2] pay $17.70 -- more expensive than Canada because of the taxes. Moreover, I had to change busses in Detroit where they stopped for lunch in a charming town (all the road between Chicago and Detroit is beautiful, the landscape is charming and bucolic, with shaded villages on the shores of rivers and lakes). As I reached Detroit, I was left with 60 cents, which I spent on a coffee and a turtle toy for my little ones. I arrived at home by 4:00 a.m. and fell asleep. …. This afternoon, I had to start over and it did not start well. I called at that school where I wanted to follow a course that would have granted me a diploma though modest still a Canadian one. Alas, they told me my English skills were still insufficient and that I was too emotional. Infuriated I replied that I become very emotional when people are offensive, because without exaggerating I understand [page 3] that all this is only used as a pretext, because as we say in French, “They are prejudiced against me and since they are stubborn they did not want to back down.” All that would not have affected me, but I know that somewhere else I would be even more handicapped due to my age. Indeed the hospital is my only resource. Everything is against me staying in Canada. I phoned Lydie, she seemed happy to have me on the phone, but she told me she does not feel the courage to do anything, because she has to renounce to so many things in her life, that right now she gives up without even trying. You can imagine what I have felt when I heard these dreadful confessions. She would have liked to go see Robert on Sunday, visiting day for the children at Illahee Camp where he is staying since July 22. However, her husband cannot. I offered her to come with me but then she has to leave her husband alone on Sunday, and she does not dare to do that. What a misery!
[page 4] I went to the Toronto railway station to get a refund for the unused train ticket from Chicago to Toronto. They promised they would send me the refund in 10 days. So that in order to go see Robert in [Coboug?], I had to borrow money from my landlady, all the banks being closed. With all that, I am so sorry I could not send you back the money from Chicago. I was fortunate you provided me [with some money] because without that I would have had to wait for the train in Chicago, which would have completely exhausted me. I hope you did not have money troubles because of me. I felt remorseful with everything that happened, and I will never thank you enough for your kindness and your warm welcome. In addition, even with my current impecuniosity, I do not regret my trip, that allowed me to see you again and appreciate you. On my return from Boise I thought a lot about you and I find you have “un beau caractère” [French idiom meaning a strong personality in a positive way, literally in English “having a beautiful personality”.] and a certain maturity in your reasoning [page 5]in all of your ideas, even a moral balance very rare among young people nowadays. What I like with you is your everlasting desire to elevate yourself, it is a strength within you that guides you maybe even without you knowing it.
As I was thinking about you, I came back, alas to all my concerns here, material and moral. My project with the certified nurse’s assistant’s school went astray. They rejected my application, under the pretext that my English level and other nonsensical stuff, but I guess it is my age that allows them to refuse me. All my hopes are gone and my further chances are nonexistent. I need to start winding up my stuff. See, I am writing and I am confessing to you as with a friend, since that is what you are [for me]. I would like you to write to me in the same way. I will send you pictures, if they turn out well as soon as they are ready.
[Margin page 5] I hope I can repay my debt to you when I become “replenished.” I will also check out for soap, French coffee and the [Katioucha?] record if I can find it. Please forgive my writing. Tired, I am writing in a very uncomfortable position.
[Margin page 1] After drowning you with my news, I can leave you while waiting for news from you. Thank your husband for me and forward him my best memories and friendliest feelings. Do not forget to kiss Karen, Kerry and Kris for me, whom I found very nice children. I hug you with all my heart (Peuchère!) [French idiom from Marseille, meaning “for sure”, it used to reinforce approval or underline a statement).
With affection, your Auntie Suzanne."
14. Letter dated 17 Aug 1962 from Suzanne (Herzenberg) Hindzee in Toronto, Canada, to Irene (de Lanskoy) Petersen in Alaska. Mentions the death Anjuta (Herzenberg) Landau. The letter mentions Alice, which it probably Alice Nikitina, but Alice did not die until 1978. Original image posted on FamilySearch:
"Dear beloved Irène,
I add these few words to your mother’s letter to explain to you that she sent me that letter by mistake. At first, I did not understand and I read it, sorry. I have not heard from you. I am going through a depression crisis, the passing of aunt Aniouta being a terrible shock for me. With her gone, disappears the last person who had a sincere and motherly affection for me, a soul in which I could confide in. I am feeling very much alone.
The other aunt Aniouta, she waited for the year of Alice to die – and I will not see her anymore. I am in great sorrow.
I send you my best wishes for your birthday and with the letter of your mum.
[Forward] my friendliest feelings to your husband and “kisses” to your two little-ones.
Kisses and hugs
Suzanne."
15. Original images on FamilySearch. This letter was written just after Irene moved to Anchorage, Alaska, from Boise, Idaho:
"Mrs. S. Hindzee
166, Sunnyside
Toronto 3
(ONT) CANADA
Toronto, July 18, 1965
My dear little Irene,
I learned from your mother that an unpleasant and unexpected event happened to you. Your mother and I think you also are unhappy because your life is disorganized, broken and you have to organize it, rebuild it again in unknown circumstances. I understand your distress and I am writing to let you know that in these harsh moments, my thoughts are with you and that you have my truest compassion.
Nevertheless, I hope that you will be able to be as happy in Anchorage as you have been in Boise, we never know where happiness awaits us. Your mom wrote that you will have trouble selling your house in Boise. Couldn’t you rent it instead of selling it at a probably unsuitable time. It could be possible that one day you may be happy to be there again. Because it is such a beautiful house and it is a shame to lose it.
[page 2] Of course, I find awful these forced transfers in a private company, and I did not know it was even possible. Let it be so [French idiom “Passe encore”, meaning literally “Let it pass again”, but in English the sense is more like “I understand this situation for” or “Let it be so”], for the military who already know better and whose transfers are justified by State policy and not private interest, which is a consolation for them however deceptive it might be. However, why keep complaining.
I wish you as much courage as you have ever had until now. That you may find satisfaction and consolation within your family. God keep you in His watch and bless you. Tell yourself that you are young and that it is only one episode in your life. Better days are waiting for you.
I kindly hug you, forward my best thoughts to “Jacques” [Jack], kiss your dear little ones without forgetting the little Catherine [Kathie]. I don’t forget you though you don’t hear from me.
Your aunt who loves you. Suzanne
I am leaving America on the 8th of September. I will be in Menton around the 20th. I hope I will see your mom again in good health. Write to me if you feel like it. I will be happy to get some news from you.”
16. New Years Card dated 23 Nov 1985 from Suzanne Hindzee to Jack and Irene Petersen. Images of original on FamilySearch:
"Nice, 23 Nov. 1985. Dear Irene and Jack. Merry Christmas to you and all your family and also a very happy and peaceful New Year 1986. With my best wishes and kisses. Suzanne. Dear Irene, Thanks for your cards and the photos. They are good memories for me. Also I was happy to ___, as well as your husband and your "cadet" [son?]. I think you are pleased about your trip. So many memories for you. I telephoned Nevoussia and I [regret?] to having bothered her, she must think I am a pest. Here we have had a beautiful autumn until Nov. 15 -- Alas, at present it is going to freeze. I hope that your Christmas will be temperate. Your news gives me great pleasure. I hope all is well with you and your 11th grandchild has arrived [in the meantime?]. With my affectionate thoughts, I hug you amicably. Suzanne."
BIOGRAPHY:
1. "Additions and corrections to Patrick's account below: Elizabeth Herzenberg Werblovsky was born 25 December 1866 in Moscow, Russia. She was the eldest child of Renee or Rebecca and Edouard Herzenberg. She died the 19th June 1942 in Nice, France. She was married to Adolphe Werblovsky and they had two daughters (I don't remember in what order, but one died early in infancy and I believe was called Natasha or Natalie (same) and my mother Catherine (Ekaterina Adolphevena(sp)) Werblovskaya or Werblovsky was born 8th October 1893 (Russian dates given are on new Russian calendar). Catherine was married legally twice - in Russia to Victor Butzkoy and in Paris to Nicolas Olimpieff. She had a son Artemy Victor Butzkoy, born in St. Petersburg, Russia on 16 June 1916, died 26 November 1993 and a son Andre Olympieff born in Nice, France 26 December 1926 and died in Nice, France, from complications of measles on 28 July 1929. Irene Nadia was born in Nice, France on 9 August 1933 fathered by Nicolas Filonoff, common law husband and tremendous alcoholic or "wino" and very abusive when drunk. Mother did not let him recognize his paternity and on account of Hitler rising to power had me baptized Catholic and declared at the City Town Hall as Irene Lydie NADIA (as last name), I went by that name till 1945, never questioning why I was the only catholic in the family and why I had the last name of Nadia. I was never told about my Jewish-ness till after the WWII, which probably saved my "derriere." My biological father was Russian Orthodox and used to sing in a choir at the beautiful Russian Orthodox Cathedral in Nice, France; I used to attend with him at times and also went there at age 5 to kindergarten and acquired a bit of Russian reading skills (very rudimentary). I always spoke Russian and French from infancy. We lived on Avenue Shakespeare across from the hotel my grandparents owned called "The Petit Provencal" in the Russian Colony neighborhood (which was large). Mother separated from Nicolas Filonoff early when I was around five - he died at age 56 on 19 March 1945 from alcohol related disease. We moved in with my widowed (wife to my maternal grandfather Adolphe born 8 June 1861 and died 2 December 1934) grandmother Elizabeth Werblovsky who had a very nice apartment across from the main railroad station in Nice (38 Avenue Auber, apartment # 68 on the 3rd floor); the train station was my playground during the war years. There I witnessed first the French troops in 1939 and secondly the arrival of the Italian troops in 1942 as mother and I were sitting on a bench at the little garden area between train station and apartment. Then once again we witnessed another occupation by Germans and Vichy Government. I was late going to school because of whooping cough (I caught the cough in the bomb shelter in our building on December 7, 1941, which later I was to find out about that fateful day in Pearl Harbor) and other respiratory ailments and was taught how to become an avid reader by mother. When I went to Auber School across the street at age 8, I skipped a grade right away. In first grade, I had my favorite teacher, Madame Passeron, who I later had as a middle school teacher in another school (I have a picture with her, me, and the class as a first grader). I noticed that many of the children kept disappearing from the first grade class - well it turned out they were Jewish children leaving for the United States or other places to hide from the Germans and the Vichy Government. Little did I know I was one of them and thanks to mother's foresight of changing my identity, she saved my life clear as far back as 1933. The headquarters of the Gestapo interrogations was right in our courtyard where I witnessed detainees (Jewish) jumping to their deaths to escape going to Death Camps. It was at the famous Hotel Excelsior where hordes of poor people marched in front of our main front door on their way to cattle train wagons across the street at the station and on to the death camps. The children were shuttled by horse and buggies (form of taxi at the time - called "fiacre") - I still see their faces. I now realize I could have been one of them. Mother had a lot of health issues. Keep in mind she was almost 40 when I was born and she was an apatride refugee, a person without a country or no income or ability to work. She was very educated and spoke many languages fluently. She gave English lessons and was actively engaged as other people were in selling all valuable things that availed us with food. She was recipient of social healthcare and it seemed that we lived in dispensaries and doctors offices. I was always sickly and she wasn't in much better health. By this time all the family wealth was lost and we were in dire poor war conditions. She deprived herself of food to better feed me with meager food coupon allotments and establish better health for me. She lost her teeth, on account of food depravations and gum disease. In the summers I would go for three months to the "mountains" at the catholic summer camps such as Sospel and La Bolene Vesubie. In one such camp, I witnessed the Germans chasing the Italians in front of our camp in the high mountains to the Italian border; the Italians were dropping their arms in piles on the road. I forgot to relate that as we were occupied by all these people, and my playground being the train station, I would hang around these soldiers as a skinny waif with freckles and hungry hazel eyes and they all would offer some of their food. Lots of German troops were not even Germans and had been forced into their army from other countries and were nice to Children. They had hard to come by oranges, black bread with schmaltz, or lard, etc. As soon as Nicolas Filonoff died, I was recognized by Count Nicolas de Lanskoy as his child. He was a friend of mother's at the time. He was frequently a visitor in our apartment and was very nice and sang Russian songs and played on the guitar. He was also an actor and had appeared in movies made at Studio de la Victorine in Nice, France. He was very handy with tools and could fix anything. He lived in the Russian Colony neighborhood and in the same apartment building as my biological father; it was called Le Palladium at 2 Boulevard Tzarewitch, Nice. He lived on the very top floor and Filonoff lived in the basement. It was Lanskoy who learned first of the untimely death of Filonoff and came to inform us. The gift of a noble name in my behalf was quite something in those days - no longer a bastard child and at this point I became Irene Lydie Nadia de Lanskoy (I later dropped Lydie when I applied for my American citizenship). After the war mother began to receive wonderful care packages from Canada from the B'nai Brith Jewish organization and they were full of great surprises, foodstuff, etc. I also began to attend the Jewish organization ORT that gave technical school training as a sewing machine seamstress. The American USO occupied Nice and both Lanskoy and mother got employment and mess hall privileges (it helped with me being a kid of eleven with freckles and pigtails and looking just like Margaret O'Brien, the child movie star from US, or even like their kid sisters). They played Canasta and other card games while I waited for mother to get off her shift, who was an English translator in USO's different hotels around Nice. I would sometimes go to the mess hall and eat with her. This is where I got acquainted with plain Jello that the GI's would unload to me. They often took me along as a kid sister to football games where cake donuts were tossed about for fun and snacks. I went to concerts with them at the Palais de la Mediterranee, a plush theater and casino requisitioned by American troops. I collected photos and addresses of the GI's. As they would leave for other assignments, they would leave small gifts. My biggest and most prized was from Sgt. Avera from Florida who was on his way to Germany - he left me a small a traveling checkers game, which I still have, and 125 packages of Dentyne gum of 10 pieces per pack. When the soldiers first came to Nice, I and many kids used to beg for gum "one chwing gomme please" and we would chew on them for a month by sticking them in sweet water every night. Needless to say, I now thought I was a millionaire. After my training at ORT with a scholarship or cash stipend, I then started to work in a men's shirt factory as an apprentice and hiding the fact that I was only 12 and not 14 as the law required. I worked in two shirt factories and brought all my earnings to mother for our subsistence and in turn received movie money - we went to the movies a lot (no TV). She and I used to eat at soup kitchens, where they would dish what they called soup in a "gamelle' or small tin (aluminum), which I still have as well as some food coupons). Another job in Nice was as a nanny and light housekeeper for a little girl named Dominique, age 5. At this point I moved on my own into Foyer de la Jeune Fille (YWCA Hostel) in Nice and became very independent; I also worked in another Hostel washing dishes. One day hurrying on the run, I said to mother and a young Mormon missionary by the name of Stephen Beard that I was interested to go to the USA or America - they took me seriously, but I was just kidding! (I had no clue where it was or how far or even how to speak English). Regressing a bit, my brother Arik was living in London, England, since 1939 all through the London Blitz and we had lost touch with him because of the war; we did not reunite till 1949. At this time he was pretty well to do and after his visit in Nice, he invited me for two months to go to London from August to October 1949 - my first adventure away from home. The second one was the following year as an immigrant to Utah as a nanny to a boy named Lee, age 3-1/2, and his sister, Esther, 17 months old. I was also a helper to their mother who had severe Bulbar polio in Ogden, Utah. They advanced the money for my passage on the ship Queen Elizabeth and then across the US on a Greyhound bus (3 days and 3 nights - no facilities and stops every 3 hours). I did not speak English (mother tried to teach me, but I was sure I would never need it). I had to also attend high school part time as I was under age 16 (almost 17). This was May 1950. I lasted on the job a year and then went to work in a tailoring mill cutting linings for suits and coats. I then moved to a YWCA in Ogden, Utah. I met my husband, Jack M. Petersen, in May 1952 and married on September 26, 1952 ." - Irene Petersen Jul. 19, 2007
"I don't have time to tell my whole story, but I will tell you later; briefly: Edward was born in Jelgava called Jeligowo in Polish around 1834 I don't have the exact date left to Moscow in the 1860's probably or before. Married Rebecca Herzenberg, a cousin, and we still have to find her line He had many Children. One of them was Elizabeth (eldest) another Anna born 16 Mar 1882 in Moscow. Elizabeth had Katarina (Catherine) Verblovsky who lived in Nice who in turn had Irina (Irene) Petersen who in turn had Kenny. Irina moved to Alaska when she married Jack Petersen. Anna had Vladimir Landau my father who was born in St Petersburg and moved to Monaco in 1918 after revolution. So Irene and me and her family are cousins. I know them all and they visit me in Monaco from time to time. This is super short. All info I had was from my father hand-written. Kenny and Irene did more on the family line then me after that. We are still gathering pieces." - Patrick Landau: 19 July 2007. [Kerry's note: Jeligowo in Poland is erroneous and should be Jelgava in Latvia.]
2. Irene to Kerry Petersen 13 Jan 2009: "You went to France the first time in 1959, the year you turned 5. My last name until I was almost 12 was Irene Lydie Nadia declared at the Mairie as such and made Catholic. I did not know I was Jewish till after the war. (Lydie ? was my real Godmother but I never met her); acting Godmother was Andree Blin who also declared my ficticious name at the Mairie and was a great friend, the Godfather was the Sacristain at the main Cathedral Notre Dame on the main drag in Nice. His name was Hubert de Van Der Broek, I stayed in contact with him for many years. I went to Catholic school and church, but as I got older, I wondered why my mother was not Catholic. When I was about 12 and my birth father had died, De Lanskoy went to the Mairie with my mother and claimed he was the birth father - so it was not an adoption, but only an acknowledgement or Declaration. Since his name was nobility, it was a good family name to have. One may speculate also that be claiming Irene as a daughter, it opened up French citizenship for him since he had a daughter who was French."
3. Short autobiography from Irene dated 25 Feb 2016:
"I lived in Nice across the big train Station from 1933 through the world war 2 till I left in May 1950. 1933 was the beginning of Hitler's rise. My mother with my Russian father Nicholas Filonoff but never married him and didn't let him give his name to me. He was an abuser of wine and in those instances was an abuser in many other ways. He died March 19, 1945. So because of intense anti Semitism, she made me Catholic and gave me a fictitious last name, Irene Lydie Nadia, and never told me about being Jewish till the end of the war at about 11 or 12 years of age as she was afraid that I would blubber to someone. In our court yard was the infamous Hotel Excelsior the headquarters for Gestapo interrogation of Jews and then marched across the street right past our front door to the train station to the Camps and their eventual death (only I didn't know this. Jewish Kids kept disappearing in my classroom.) I played in the streets a lot and it could have been me. My mother saved us. She also painted our windows blue and one time I saw someone commit suicide from a balcony of that Hotel. We lived with my Grandmother Herzenberg. Mother and her communicated in German so that I would not understand their conversations. Grandmother died in June 1942, she was the oldest of the Herzenberg children (9, I think) your grandfather being the oldest of the 2 boys. I spoke Russian and French from birth and English at 16. I used to go to a Catholic girls Camp in Sospel for 3 months at the time. I attended very little schooling as I was a sickly child. But I educated myself by reading a huge amount. Suzanne Herzenberg was my idol relative."
4. "Autobiography, March 19, 2015
I am Irene Lydie Nadia de Lanskoy Petersen.
In my youth I went by the name of Irene Lydie Nadia. I was born on 9 August 1933 in Nice, Alpes-Maritimes, France. My parents were Russian refugees of the 1917 Bolshevik Revolution. They were "apartheid" people - people without a country. My mother was Jewish which had an impact on my life. My maternal grandmother was born as Elizabeth Herzenberg. According to her death certificate, she was born 25 December 1866 in Moscow, Russia. This certificate was per the information supplied by my mother to the Nice, France authorities; however, the Latvian Archives in Riga has since shown that she was born in Kuldiga (or Goldingen) in the Courland region of Latvia. She was the eldest child of the ten children born of Edouard or Elias Ocipovitch Herzenberg and his wife Renée or Rebecca also with the maiden name of Herzenberg. Renée was a cousin, but her exact relationship is currently unknown. Edouard was born in Mitau, Latvia, according to my mother's recollection; however, it may have actually been in Pilten, the ancestral home of his father Joseph. Edouard moved from to Latvia to Moscow, Russia, with his young family. My grandmother died on 19 June 1942 in Nice, France. She married my grandfather, Adolphe Werblovsky, who was born 8 June 1861 in Vilnius, Lithuania and died 2 December 1934 in Nice, France. They had two daughters -- one, named Natasha or Natalie, died early in infancy, and my mother, Catherine (Ekaterina Adolphevena [sp]) Werblovskaya or Werblovsky was born 8 October 1893 in St. Petersburg. (Russian dates given are on new Russian calendar).
My mother, Catherine, was married legally twice - to Victor Petrovich Butzkoy 24 September 1915 at Mironocitkoy Church, Kharkiv, Ukraine, and Nicolas Olimpieff or Olimpiev 9 Oct 1923 at Saint-Cloud, Hauts-de-Seine, France in Paris. Victor was born 24 May 1890 at St. Petersburg and Nicolas was born 21 May 1897 in the Province of Don, Stanitza, Oustniedveditzkaya, Russia
She divorced her first husband 27 July 1922. She had two sons: Artemy Victor Butzkoy was born in St. Petersburg, Russia on 16 June 1916, and died 26 November 1993, in St. Helier, Jersey (Channel Islands); Andre Olimpieff was born in Nice, France on 26 December 1926 and died in Nice, France at two years of age from complications of measles on 28 July 1929. I was fathered by Nicolas Filonov, my mother's common-law husband, who was born in Kharkiv, Ukraine. She did not let him recognize his paternity as he was a tremendous alcoholic or "wino" and very abusive when drunk.
Catherine, my mother, was raised in St. Petersburg, Russia. Her family was very well-to-do. Her father was a banker. As a child she was quite pampered and was cared for by private nannies.
My mother left Russia before the Bolshevik Revolution (see Appendix 1) with her first husband on his government assignment for the Tsar. Victor Butzkoy was a captain in the army who had served in World War I. He was then an assistant military attaché, and was sent to Tokyo, Japan and Washington, D.C. They left in December 1916 and traveled eastward across all of Russia by train in very cold conditions all the way to Khabarovsk and on to Vladivostok, leaving Russia for the last time, heading for their assignment, which was to last for one year. After Tokyo, they traveled to Washington, D.C., via the ship "Empress of Japan" arriving 15 January 1917 at Vancouver, Canada, from where they travelled by rail across Canada entering the United States at 31 Jan 1917 at St. Albans, Vermont. They spent some time in New York City before arriving to Washington, D.C. While there they were able to visit Niagara Falls and Coney Island. But the Revolution took place in October 1917 and they were never able to go back to their homeland. They had left Artemy Victor (Arik), my half-brother, in Russia for her parents to take care of. It was much safer for a small baby to stay in his home environment than go on that long trip. I have a newspaper clipping about her visit to Washington, D.C. (Appendix 2). They actually left from Petrograd, Russia - the city of St. Petersburg, whose name was changed to Petrograd in 1916, then to Leningrad, and is now again St. Petersburg.
Mother and her husband returned to Europe and spent a lot of time trying to get her parents out of Russia. Some of the time was spent in Sweden with her cousins. After a struggle and a lot of red tape my grandparents and baby Arik were able to escape through Finland. They were then reunited and lived in many cities throughout Europe including Wiesbaden and Berlin. They spent some time in England. They were finally permitted to live in France as refugees. The family of my mother's husband, Victor Butzkoy, stayed in Russia. Victor sent what help he could to his parents. They were landowners in Ukraine and Arik was able to receive revenue from these holdings later in life. She married her second husband, Nicolas Olimpieff, and ended up, along with her parents, in Nice, France. Nicolas worked in my grandparent's restaurant, which was named "Tip-Top." After this marriage failed, they separated and vanished from her life. She then met my natural father, who was doing odd jobs at my grandparents' hotel in Nice. Mother and Nicolas Olimpieff were never legally divorced; she lost contact with him.
My mother was a talented artist. She studied very early already painting and drawing at home in Petrograd. She had a private teacher who taught her very serious drawing first and then painting in water colors. One of her teachers was an artist of the Academy of Art of Petersburg and used live models at her home. She studied art at schools in St. Petersburg, Cohran Art Gallery in Washington, D.C., and the Kingston Art School in England for oil painting. In these schools she was considered one of the best. She liked portrait painting, scenery, flowers, seascapes but not animals. I am also told that she studied piano for 10 years. But maybe because of the condition in which we lived, I did not see much of her talent or hear her play the piano.
The political climate in 1933 was becoming very anti-Semitic throughout Europe. Hitler and the Nazis were beginning to gain full power. This was not new for my mother, she had experienced it through her youth in Russia. She was fortunate, as her father was a "Jewish merchant of the 1st guild" with special privilege. They were permitted to live in St. Petersburg while most other Jews were not. It did require a passport. However, in 1904-5 during the pogroms of the Russian Jews, the Jews even there were persecuted, killed and robbed. It became safer to leave the capital. She was taken with her governess to live in Abo, Finland. When things were safer, she returned to Petrograd and lived in the family's flat for the rest of her childhood and part of her married life. Through these special privileges, she was able to attend school at the Petrograd Gymnazia of Princess Oblensky -- one of the exclusive schools for daughters of aristocratic and wealthy families. They were allowed to have only 10% Jewish girls' enrollment. At this school she continued her art studies.
With her Jewish heritage, my mother did not give me a family name. She had me baptized a Catholic and declared me at the City Town Hall of Nice as Irene Lydie Nadia, with Nadia as a last name. I went by that name until 1945, never questioning why I was the only Catholic in the family and why I had the last name of Nadia. I was never told about my Jewish heritage until after World War II, which probably saved my "derriere." My mother carefully guarded this secret from me and others.
I was born at home, in a basement apartment at 22 Avenue Buenos Aires in Nice, France. This was in the large Russian section of town and Russian was my first language at home, and, of course, I learned French simultaneously. My mother felt that I should be protected and a French friend of my mother's, Madame Blin, who was present at my birth and knew of our Jewish heritage, registered me at the town hall under the fictitious name. This friend, Madame Blin, I later considered my Catholic godmother and she was very dear to me. My son Kerry visited with her many times when he was on his LDS Church mission in Nice in 1973. She virtually adopted him. He was the only Mormon missionary to have a Catholic godmother. I had another godmother named Lydie, who was given to me at my birth, but I didn't have much of a relationship with her. At the age of eleven I took my Holy Communion at the Catholic Church. I asked my mother if she would join the church that I belonged to, so we could go to church together. This is when my mother joined the Catholic Church.
Because my family lost everything in Russia, they had to start over very meagerly in France. When I came along we were rather poor. Although my grandparents had had a hotel and a restaurant in Nice, it was lost through litigation. I do not know the details - it may have had something to do with Mother's second husband. My mother spent a lot of time with attorneys.
Nice is a beautiful city in southeastern France on the Mediterranean Sea and the French Riviera with its beaches and its beach front. Tourism is essential to its economy, along with processing of olive oil and manufacturing of perfume and a cultural center. It is the capital of the Alpes-Maritimes Department, very close to the Italian border and the principality of Monaco, with the town of Monte Carlo between the two countries. Nice has an active commercial port, and the high mountains to the north protect the city from severe weather. It is built around a bay and Nice is divided into old and new parts, separated by a river named "The Paillon" and the "Colline du Chateau." The Colline du Chateau is a high rocky mound on which the first settlement was built with a castle and surrounding walls. Old Nice grow around the base. It was a well-known trading colony in the ancient world and was taken by the Romans in 152 BC. It has changed rulers many times through the years.
My biological father, Nicolas Filonov, had a Russian name, but he was born in Kharkiv, Ukraine, possibly on 23 December 1891. He belonged to the Russian Orthodox Church and used to sing in a choir at the beautiful Russian Cathedral in Nice. I used to attend with him at times and he also took me to the beach when I was young. At that time, we lived on 17 Avenue Shakespeare across from the hotel my grandparents had previously owned, called "Le Petit Provençal," in the large Russian colony neighborhood. Mother was never married to him. They broke up when I was around five years old. He died at age fifty-six on 19 March 1945 of alcohol-related disease. I was 11 years old. He was buried in a pauper's grave at the Caucade Cemetery in Nice and his remains were removed after ten years. After his death, I wasn't allowed to go into his apartment to get any of his belongings, and I was not allowed to attend his funeral, but had to wait in the cemetery outside of the chapel. I am not sure why this was done.
We moved in with my widowed grandmother, Elizabeth Werblovsky, when I was about five years old. She had a very nice apartment across from the main railroad station in Nice at 38 Avenue Auber, apartment #68 on the third floor. The building had three elevators, two for tenants and one for service workers. My grandfather had died when I was one year old. The railroad station was my playground during the war years.
After my father died, I was legally recognized in 1946 by a family friend, Count Nicolas Pavlovich de Lanskoy, as his daughter. I was twelve years old at the time. My name then changed to Irene Lydie Nadia de Lanskoy. By recognizing me, it gave him the opportunity to claim and receive French benefits. Having a good name, a noble name, was important and significant at that time and it was a wonderful gift. Now as an adult, it seems to complicate my genealogy since I had no real family ties to him. I later dropped "Lydie" when I applied for my American citizenship. I am a first-generation American naturalized on 16 November 1955 at Ogden, Utah. Nicolas de Lanskoy was a frequent visitor in our apartment and was very nice to us. He was Russian, a nobleman of a well-known Russian family, a talented man who could sing, act, and play the guitar. He played in movies and theatrical groups. Because he had been in the cavalry, he was good with horses and was given different movie parts where horses were used. The movies were made at Studio de la Victorine in Nice. He was very handy with tools and could fix anything. He lived in the Russian colony neighborhood in the same apartment building as my biological father. It was called Le Palladium at Boulevard Tzarewitch, Nice. He lived on the very top floor in a one-room apartment with an equally large terrace, and my father lived in the basement. It was he who learned first of the untimely death of my father and came to inform us. He was married later (1958) to a very nice Russian lady name Mnevert Nevoussia Sabaneeff, who was much younger than he (she was born 24 October 1919 in Moscow). My family and I visited with them in France several times and she visited us in Alaska in 1979. Count de Lanskoy died 30 October 1977 in Nice.
Throughout my youth, they called me "Lala", a common Russian nickname. I attended a Russian kindergarten when I was five, in the year 1938. The school was close to the Russian cathedral. I learned a bit of Russian reading and writing skills, but it was only rudimentary. That was my only formal education in the Russian language, which I spoke fluently, along with French. I loved going to school, but being sickly with all kind of illnesses and anemia, I didn't go to French kindergarten or to the French first grade.
As preparations for World War II began - I was then six years old - soldiers began occupying several buildings by the train station. First I witnessed the French soldiers in 1939, and then came the arrival of the Italian troops in 1942. Mother and I were sitting on a park bench in a little garden area between the train station and our apartment building. All of a sudden the Italian soldiers came rolling in on military trucks and occupied Nice. Then once again, a few months later, sitting on the same bench, we witnessed the occupation by Germans and their Vichy government administrators.
I often played in the streets, which I considered to be part of my playground. I didn't realize that I should have been more concerned for my safety, especially at such a young age.
Because the train station was my playground, I hung around these soldiers. I was a skinny waif with freckles and hungry hazel eyes. Not all the German soldiers were bad. A lot of the enlisted soldiers were drafted into the German army from Poland, Finland, and other captured countries and were often serving against their will. Some were White Russians who joined to help Germany free their homeland. I was fascinated by the different soldiers. They were nice to me and other children. They gave us things that were hard to come by, such as oranges and black bread with schmaltz (lard), and other treats.
My mother, being extremely well-educated and intelligent, taught me how to read not only French but Russian at home. I recall how I resisted her insistence that I should learn English, telling her I would never need that language. How little I knew then.
I had private lessons from a very old French lady who used to do nothing but give me dictations, and I became a very good speller by doing this. I read books and books and more books. I would read in bed, but sometimes I was supposed to go to sleep, so then I stuffed clothes and other things under the door to hide the light. Sometimes I used a small electric lamp under my covers so I could read late into the night, just devouring books. I was able to get these books from a friend of my mother, classics written by Jules Verne and Victor Hugo and others. They were all very good books. I did a lot of pretend playing in our apartment. I made my own house with blankets, curtains, and pillows. I put a little lamp in them and read till all hours of the night. I did a lot of walking in town and in the countryside. I loved this famous old Mediterranean city and its beaches.
I was late going to school because of whooping cough, which I caught in the bomb shelter under our building on December 7, 1941. Later, I was to find out about that fateful day in Pearl Harbor. I had other respiratory ailments. Then I went to Ếcole Auber Elementary school, just downstairs and across the street from our apartment building. I was eight years old when I first went to school, and skipped a grade right away. That put me in the class of Madame Passeron, my favorite teacher. I later had her as a teacher in a middle school named Ếcole St. Lambert. I still have a picture with her and my class.
My mother was very artistic. One day I took a picture to school that my mother had painted of my favorite doll. My teacher hung it at the front of the classroom so everyone could see it. The school was watched over by the Italians and the next day the picture was gone. I believe the Italians liked it and took it.
At school, I then noticed that many of the children kept disappearing from the class. They were Jewish children leaving for the United States or other places to escape the Germans and the Vichy government. Little did I know I was one of them. My mother's foresight in 1933 in changing my identity saved my life.
Because I was raised through the war years under Italian, German, and Allied occupation, we lived a most disrupted life. I didn't attend more than three years of regular school in my youth or graduate from any school in France.
When France surrendered to Germany, the Germans set up a puppet government known as the Vichy government. A famous old World War I general, Maréchal Pétain, was put in charge of the government as a figurehead. In other parts of France they had a different government. I remember him pictured on a white horse, and there was a song that we had to sing about the Maréchal. We also had to write letters to him in school. When Admiral Darland came to town, we had to march in a parade for him; of course, the school was closed for that event. Admiral Jean-Francois Darland was a Petain supporter.
The Italians, who were allied with the Germans, occupied Nice and were much more sympathetic to the Jews. They were not persecuted as much by the Italians. So during this time there was a major exodus of Jews from those areas of France that were occupied by the Germans, with an estimated 30,000 or more coming to the Nice area for the Italian protection. This influx of Jews may have attracted the Gestapo to the area because they shortly thereafter replaced the Italians. They literally chased them out.
When I was ten years old, on September 6, 1943, a German SS officer by the name of Brunner arrived in Nice. He was a great specialist of the "Final Solution." The Nazis' final solution for the Jews was to exterminate them. I was too young to realize or understand what was happening around me but I learned about it later. Under his order, the hunt for Jews began. It was very dangerous for my Jewish grandmother and my Jewish mother and maybe even for me.
Unfortunately for us, he set up the Gestapo interrogation headquarters in the Excelsior Hotel, which was on the left side of our courtyard. They immediately took over the local synagogue. The Gestapo began to patrol the streets in special cars. My mother and grandmother were very careful. They kept their windows blackened out by painting them blue. They abided by the curfew, which was the time you had to be off the streets. Many times the Gestapo would blow air raid sirens to force people out of their apartments onto the streets. Special SS troops, with their sleeves rolled, would look over the general population on the street. They apprehended any pedestrian who had what they considered Jewish characteristics, without questioning or without ever verifying their papers. These people were hauled into the cars and taken to the closed synagogues, which the Germans had taken over and looted. These people were interrogated and subjected to a physical examination to check for circumcision - automatically considered proof of Jewishness.
The main synagogue was about a mile from where I lived. When people were identified as Jews, they were moved to the famous Hotel Excelsior. During this time they were robbed of all their possessions, which would include their household goods, jewels, money, and all other valuables. They were then systematically processed and loaded onto trucks to be taken to the train station. Sometimes they were forced to march in procession the two or three blocks to the station. They detained all the known Jewish rabbis and more prominent Jewish people. They raided hotels, apartments, clinics, offices, and even funeral processions.
Since Gestapo headquarters, where interrogations were held, was in our courtyard, I witnessed Jewish detainees jumping to their deaths to escape going to death camps. Hordes of poor Jewish people marched past our front door on their way to the train station across the street, where they were loaded in railroad cars to be taken to the death camps. The children were shuttled by horses and buggies, the taxi at that time was called a "fiacre." I can still see their faces. I now realize I could have been one of them.
I remember when I was ten years old, I would see lines of women carrying their babies and holding screaming children by the hand. The older people that could hardly walk assisted each other. They were watched very carefully by SS guards, who were ready to prod any who hesitated.
During this time, the SS gave bounty rewards for those who turned in Jews. I remember a Russian tailor who had his shop just down the street. He was known to turn in Russian Jews to the Gestapo for payment.
The Jewish underground was established to assist by supplying false papers, hiding and transporting people, and holding religious activities. I remember that Monsignor Remond, who was the head Catholic Bishop in Nice, was credited with helping to save more than 300 Jewish children by hiding them in the mountains, summer camps, and in boarding schools.
Mother had a lot of health issues. She was almost forty when I was born. She was an "apartheid" refugee, a person without a country, without income or ability to work. She was well-educated and spoke many languages fluently. She gave English lessons and was actively engaged, as other people were, in selling all her valuables to supply us with food. She was a recipient of social health care and it seemed that we lived in dispensaries and doctors' offices. I was always sickly and she wasn't in much better health. Of course, food and supplies were rationed, which continued until 1945.
By this time all the family wealth was lost and we were in dire poverty and lived in war conditions. Mother deprived herself of food rations to better feed me with meager food coupon allotments, in order to establish better health for me. She lost her teeth and most of her hair because of food deprivations and gum disease.
We ate a lot of rutabagas, pumpkins, and garbanzo beans, all boiled in water without any fat and very few spices, if any. Often we went to a nearby soup kitchen, where they dished out what they called "soup". We always waited in a long line for our daily rations; there we exchanged our coupons for food. As I said before, my mother many times went without her rations so I could have more food. Like everyone else, we brought our own container, a "gamelle", to the soup kitchen. My container was a small round aluminum box with a lid. I still have this container, as well as some of those food coupons. One of the soup kitchens was just around the corner from our apartment and the other one was on one of the main streets. The main street one was the nicer one. It was like a hotel restaurant and you could eat there. The other one was dirty, I once saw a woman pull a dirty old rag from the soup, that had somehow dropped into pot; thereafter she just kept serving the soup. Another place where we ate was the Salvation Army. If we peeled potatoes we could eat for free. I became very good at peeling potatoes.
In the summers for two or three years, during the war, I went for three months to the "mountains" at a Catholic summer camp. One of these camps was in Sospel, and we stayed in barracks. Another was in La Bollene Vesubie near the Vesubie River, where we stayed in a building. The camps were run by the Catholic nuns. The camps were good memories. We had lots hikes, religious devotions, and activities. At the Bollene camp, I witnessed the Germans chasing the Italians on motorcycles and in cars up into the high mountains and over the Italian border. The Italians were dropping their arms on the road in piles. They were safe if they made it back across their border. My grandmother died while I was at camp in June 1942.
Some of my bad memories were of sitting in bomb shelters, which were usually dark, damp,
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Chris & Julie Petersen's Genealogy
1933 - 2021 (87 years)
