Wednesday, May 27, 2015

My father and his sister at the time he worked at Korczaks Orphanage

My father, Pan Misza Wasserman Wroblewski on the right in both photos and his sister Niura (Chana). The photo on the right was taken at 87 Krakowskie Przedmiescie in Warszawa in 1932 or 1933 when my father worked at the Korczaks Orphanage.
"The background" of the photos, 87-89 Krakowskie Przedmiescie in Warszawa prior WWII. Both buildings were rebuild after the war. Miodowa str can be seen on the picture on the right. They are also present in the old Canaletto paintings! Janusz Korczak lived at 77 Krakowskie przedmiescie.

"The background" of the photos, 87-89 Krakowskie Przedmiescie in Warszawa prior WWII. Both buildings were rebuild after the war. Miodowa str can be seen on the picture on the right. They are also present in the old Canaletto paintings! Janusz Korczak lived at 77 Krakowskie przedmiescie.

My father remembers:

On September 1st, 1931 I arrived in Warsaw, 92 Krochmalna St. I was received by the manager of the orphanage, Stefania Wilczynska. The conversation was polite but brief and to the point - she had a lot of other duties to perform. I was given two days free to look around and get to know the environment.

A 12 year old boy called Felek Grzyb was my guide, showing me the living arrangements, sometimes adding short explanations: “Here everyone takes their shoes off so as not to bring in dust and mud.” “Here is the kitchen - nothing interesting. Mrs Doba rules here. Here are all the pots and pans, and here are the plates and cups and saucers. And the place is as clean as a whistle - it’s simply frightening!”
I said: “I suppose the girls help out a bit?”
Felek changed his tone. “What do you think? They work in shifts, and the boys do too...” He obviously wanted to change the subject and said: “Just look at this little gadget - you put the hot dishes on it and turn the winch, and they arrive in the dining hall still hot. You can try it yourself.” He opened a door which led to a small study, and then to another room, which he described as a sort of sewing room.

We entered a large hall. I noticed many rows of little drawers on one side. “Everybody has his own,” Felek said. “We put various things in them. The little ones even put things like buttons, boxes, coloured glass, and stones - their treasures” he added with an air of superiority, pointing to the bottom drawers. Afterwards he added proudly: “There are no keys - we don’t need them.”