When France fell, we knew we could not go home again. We lost everything and, eventually, almost everyone I had ever known. When the Germans crossed into Lithuania, they took my grandparents out of their home, marched them to a nearby school and shot them point-blank. A young cousin my age was taken aboard a ship, raped and thrown overboard. There were too many such stories. It felt strange, and somehow not quite believable, that we were in Los Angeles and really safe.
My father’s brother Nicholas, his wife Fania and his 19-year-old daughter Sarah had also gotten out of Paris just in time. They joined us is California. Each family had been able to send some of their money ahead to America, but the majority of their assets were inaccessible because of the German occupation. And so the two families decided to buy a house together: It would not only be cheaper, but we would have each other to rely on in this foreign country, where we knew no one else.
In 1940, Beverly Hills was not really developed; we bought a four-bedroom house for the seven of us. Sarah was attending Berkeley and slept on a couch on the weekends she was home. I was in the eighth grade and my brother in the second. Life in Beverly Hills was bewildering. My parents had a very hard time learning English, as they did not know anyone except for the few shopkeepers they interacted with.
My mother made CARE packages for the soldiers overseas. My father joined the California State Guard and rode his horse every night along the Santa Monica coast looking for Japanese submarines. I often rode that horse after school on the gravel paths through the still-empty and undeveloped Beverly Hills.
I went on to Beverly Hills High School, where I was the only foreign girl. The kids made fun of my accent. I remember algebra class, where I had to learn about pounds and inches when all I knew was the metric system. I mostly sat in the back of the class and cried. It was all beyond bewildering. I still only count in French.
Kids can be mean, and I was a good foil and a target for all kinds of teasing I did not understand. My brother Alec had similar experiences in elementary school and often cried. But within a few months, we began to understand and speak English, and that made our lives much easier.
I learned English mostly through my radio class, where I had to learn lines and recite them on air. Our high school had a half-hour segment Saturdays on Los Angeles’ KMPC. I often played some mad gypsy or any weird character with an accent. Forty years later, I had my own weekly segment on San Diego’s KPBS. Strange how early experiences form the professional decisions that influence the direction of one’s life.
My father and uncle met a geologist who told them about the probability of finding oil in Wichita, Kansas. They invested in the wells and hit several gushers. I still have the photo of my uncle with an oil-soaked shirt from when the oil first gushed.
My father and uncle bought the building on the corner of Beverly Drive and Wilshire Boulevard, which contained the Beverly Theatre movie house. My friends and I could go for free, although it only cost a dime on Saturday afternoons. We always stayed for the double feature; at the intermission, there was a drawing for kitchen appliances. My father and uncle also owned the block next to the Beverly Wilshire Hotel and grew a victory garden there. When it doubled in price, they sold it. What a mistake! But who knew then that Southern California would experience such explosive growth?
My parents were very strict. I think I was the only girl in high school not allowed to wear lipstick — so I sneaked lip gloss when I was out of their sight. By my senior year, I was finally allowed to go out on a date with a boy, but my father was always standing at the front door waiting for me and yelling at the boy if he brought me home later than expected.
My family’s story is one of loss and recovery. My mother’s family lost everything when they fled Russia and the communists, then Paris and the Nazis. Every time, they started over just to lose it all again. And so here we were, having arrived with almost nothing, starting anew; and with a little ingenuity and a lot of luck, we were making a life for ourselves.