Part XVII Family Trip to Europe, Summer 1931

 

The Bea Blog consists of diaries and letters written by my grandmother Bea Cohen Rubin (1899-1985) and other members of her family. For more information about Bea and how this blog came about, see Blog Archive under 2013/June/Part I -- Intro and 1913. 

In June 1931 my grandmother Bea Cohen Rubin sails  to Europe on the SS New York along with:

her mother, Pauline Cohen

her sister, Marion Cohen

her daughters, Jean (7) and Ande (5) Rubin

Her husband, Milton Rubin, joins them later and returns with them in September, again on the SS New York.

Here are the passenger lists for their voyage on the Atlantic:

Notice the listing of "Grill Room Chef, TONY" (the only member of the staff to go by one name and all upper case).

And of course there's an orchestra leader, band leader, and motion picture operator. 

I see some familiar names, including one celebrity-to-be – the young actress Mildred Natwick (1905-1994) (traveling with her mother and sister). She was just getting started in her career in 1931 and it's unlikely that Bea and her family would have known of her.

 

Natwick is remembered for small but memorable roles in several John Ford film classics, including 3 Godfathers (1948), She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (1949), and The Quiet Man (1952). She played Miss Ivy Gravely, in Alfred Hitchcock's The Trouble with Harry (1955), and a sorceress in The Court Jester (1956).

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mildred_Natwick

Finally, some photos from Montreux, Switzerland, where Bea and Co. spent most of that summer:

Top: Marion and Pauline in their car

Bottom: Bea (center) with Jean (l) and Ande (r)

Part XVI – Like scenes from a movie (1956)

The Bea Blog consists of diaries and letters written by my grandmother Bea Cohen Rubin (1899-1985) and other members of her family. For more information about Bea and how this blog came about, see Blog Archive under 2013/June/Part I -- Intro and 1913. 

In the summer of 1956, Ande Rubin (Bea’s daughter and my mother) once again travels to Europe by herself. She is 30 and single. (See Part XIII for Ande’s letter from Paris in 1953).
 

Ande 1948
 

Ande 1958
 

 
 
From Rome, where she stays in the Hotel Excelsior, she writes about the nightlife:
 
Then of course to Doney’s on the Via Veneto, where one sits and watches the whole Roman world go by – everyone tonight from Rome to Hollywood –
 
Charles Boyer, Jack Benny, Linda Christian and E. Purdom (what a pair!), Stewart Granger …
 
Moving on to Madrid, where she stays in the Palace Hotel, she writes about a sightseeing adventure:
 
As I was about to go in [to the Palais Royale], two huge busloads of United States Naval officers drove up, a path was cleared for them, everyone else was held back while they were assigned a special guide, and about to go through in a solitary phalanx of uniforms. At that point, a darling ensign who could Spanish spotted me behind the ropes and apparently told the guard in his best high school Spanish that I belonged with them. The Spanish guard looked very skeptical, gesticulated madly but finally gave in and let me through  – at which point I had suddenly joined the Navy (well over 50 of them)! I can't tell you how funny it was.  Anyway, all 51 of us were taken through the entire Palais and you have no idea what a peculiar feeling it is to see 50 pairs of eyes focused on one’s ankles (and mine yet!) while the guide is pointing out the magnificent Teniers Tapestries. They (from the USS Albany, now in Valencia) apparently hadn’t seen a girl in months and any “American Pequeña” would do. My Spanish-speaking rescuer – Ken Doyle of California (all of 20 I imagine) – asked me out this evening so I will meet him at 12:30 and perhaps see some Madrid nightlife.

And the next day she writes:

 
Practically landed in a Spanish jail last night – and not for making speeches! My nice young Navy man, one of those sweet clean-cut American boys – with freckles and a kewpie-doll face, wanted to see me safely (really!) to my door around 4 am – well, no sooner had we walked into the hotel elevator, than 3 Palace bellhops surrounded him, shouting “Prohibido! Prohibido!” and began to drag him ignominiously through the lobby into the street. He kept protesting “Why? Why?” all the way, which made it even funnier – and the entire night staff of the hotel (this is a big hotel – 800 rooms) went into gales of knowing laughter. Meanwhile, I stood innocently in the elevator with my mouth open, mumbling “But in America …”! Anyway this was my famous farewell scene with the Navy.

 

Part XV -- Celebrity Wedding 1939

The Bea Blog consists of diaries and letters written by my grandmother Bea Cohen Rubin (1899-1985) and other members of her family. For more information about Bea and how this blog came about, see Part I -- Intro and 1913 under Blog Archive.

My mother Ande and my aunt Jean c. 1933

In the summer of 1939, my aunt Jean Rubin (almost 16) goes by train on a tour of Western states with a group of other New York girls and a chaperone. They visit Colorado, California and Idaho.

While staying at the Del Monte hotel in California, Jean and her companions find themselves in the midst of the wedding of movie stars Joan Fontaine and Brian Aherne. Among the wedding guests is Joan Fontaine's older sister, Olivia de Havilland.

Following is an excerpt from one of Jean’s letters home:

Written on board the Southern Pacific, August 1939

Dear Mum –

The only time I get to write to you is in between stops – Del Monte was too wonderful – we were kept very busy and our company was really fun.

To please Ande I will tell you about yesterday’s wedding first – Saturday morning Ellie pointed out a woman on the porch and said that it was Irene Dunne. I wouldn’t believe her but as she walked to her car I did … Then Saturday night while we were waiting to go to dinner some ordinary looking people came thru the swing door and I said to Ellie – who are you going to tell me that is – she looked and said Olivia de Havilland and started for a pen and paper [for an autograph]. I really was so sure that it wasn’t she but sure enough it was . . . then we saw Joan Fontaine come in. They both acted natural etc. and are very nice. Then when we went dancing in the Bali Room there they were again – it was a party – Olivia had a red and white dress with sea-shell jewelry and Joan had on an ivory brocade – she danced quite a bit but only once with Brian. When they did dance together we maneuvered so that he bumped into me! Thrill –

 Before the wedding (http://www.gettyimages.com)

Then yesterday [we] went to church at 11:00 in the chapel where they were to be married – we are quite friendly with the Reverend who married them. After church we waited outside and made friends with the policeman so that we were allowed inside the gate!

Leaving the church (http://www.gettyimages.com)

Ellie had her camera and snapped Brian coming in and also the rest of the bridal party – Olivia wore chartreuse long-sleeved net – very simple – and a small chartreuse velvet hat – she carried orange-red begonias – Joan was in white.

Brian and Joan (https://www.pinterest.com)

Olivia and Joan (https://www.pinterest.com)

After the ceremony they had a reception at Del Monte which we didn’t see and so went to our al fresco lunch . . . but [later] we found ourselves in the midst of the wedding party waiting to see them off. We were provided with rice and patience and waited – Olivia was standing directly opposite me about 2 ft. away. She was just darling . . . Then out came Joan after a 'phone call to the Ahernes in England – she wore a green suit and sables – I hit her with my rice – she and Brian (in a plaid cap) drove themselves away in a little Packard convertible – after fondly kissing Mirna [Myrna Loy?] and Livvie. . . .

Best Love,

Jean

Part XIV -- College Edition

Letter from Wellesley 1945

The Bea Blog consists of diaries and letters written by my grandmother Bea Cohen Rubin (1899-1985) and other members of her family. For more information about Bea and how this blog came about, see Part I -- Intro and 1913 under Blog Archive.

My mother Ande Rubin (right) and her best friend Bernice Richman in their senior year at Horace Mann High School for Girls, 1943

My mother Ande Rubin (Bea’s daughter) attended Wellesley for her freshman and sophomore years, from 1943 to 1945. She transferred to Barnard in 1945 and graduated in 1947. She was very unhappy at Wellesley and she wrote a number of angry -- yet also funny -- rants citing Wellesley’s flaws. (It probably didn’t help that Ande's best friend from high school was at another college, and Ande's sister Jean, a junior at Wellesley when Ande arrived, loved Wellesley and was successful there both academically and socially.)

Soon after her 19^th birthday in March 1945, Ande writes to her mother Bea:

Today, I practically died – quite literally. In Badminton class, we have to jump rope for about 10 minutes continuously – I feel absolutely ill afterwards. I get completely winded and my heart just goes a mile a minute. I see no reason to force myself to do this outrageous stuff when it has such an appalling effect on me and can do me nothing but harm. I am sure it will take 3 years off my life (that’s no fooling).

She illustrates her point with a cartoon:

Among Ande’s other complaints are what she sees as lack of intellectual rigor among her classmates and the failings of her English professors:

Mr. Houghton, though I don’t dislike him, makes me so mad. He told me yesterday that “the course was failing me” and that although I did very well on my tests, that he was sure I didn’t think in general or have intellectual interest. WELL! I told him right there and then that one of my objections to Wellesley was that I felt so many of the girls have acquired information, yes, but that they didn’t actually think and that by God, I did! No one can tell me I don’t think because what gets me so is that most of the people around here don’t think one tenth as much as I do. Then he tells me he has been speaking to Mr. Kirby-Miller who has told him how difficult I was last year. When I think of what KM did to my English and his complete lack of appreciation for anything that was even slightly imaginative or subtle, it makes me sick but what could I say to Mr. Houghton? Then he holds [Classmate X] up to me as an example – how she always talks in class, thinks, etc. so I said, “Mr. Houghton, one has to take into consideration difference in personalities” because I am seriously not disposed towards talking in class and that’s no barometer of intelligence or lack of it  (and I “think” every bit as much as [Classmate X] and possibly a little more and I’d take ten of me to her any day, even if that does sound awful). There is a certain kind of personality that is appreciated by Wellesley – a sort of eager, exuberant, enthusiastic, superficial, naïve kind that I am NOT and since Wellesley can’t change me and I can’t change Wellesley, it’s all pretty frustrating.

“Mr. Kirby-Miller” and “Mr. Houghton” were English professors Charles Kerby-Miller and Walter Houghton.

Ed. Note: When I was applying to colleges in 1978, my grandmother Bea told me several times that Ande was so happy to transfer from Wellesley to Barnard,  that “Barnard could do no wrong.”

Part XIII -- Letter from Paris 1953

The Bea Blog consists primarily of excerpts from the diaries my grandmother Bea Cohen (1899-1985) kept for 38 years, starting in 1913. For more background, see Part I -- Intro and 1913 (under Blog Archive).

Letter from Paris 1953

My parents, Ande and Byron, on their wedding day, en route to Paris, October 1958

Bea’s youngest daughter, my mother Ande Rubin, was happiest when she was traveling in France and Italy. She traveled regularly to Europe: from the age of five (1931), throughout her childhood and young adulthood, with my father on their honeymoon (1958), and for a couple of years until I was born (1961).

I’ve been reading letters Ande wrote home from Europe during the 1950s, when she traveled alone by ship on several occasions. What stands out for me in particular is her confidence traveling on her own, her ability to make friends, and her ebullience and sense of humor. She comes across as smart, fashionable, elegant and charming – accustomed to comfort, but open to adventure (relatively speaking, that is).

Though Ande only hints at unhappiness in this letter, she was emotionally and physically fragile from a young age. After college, she grew increasingly dependent on prescription pain killers, sleeping pills and tranquilizers. Overmedicated, she died in her sleep in 1967.

 Ande’s letter from Paris, on Ile de France letterhead, August 1953

In August 1953, Ande travels to France on the Ile de France and finds herself in the midst of a general strike. In Paris she stays at the Hotel Continental.  Typical of her letters from France, this one is peppered with French phrases and brimming with enthusiasm. She addresses the letter to her older sister, Jean, but asks Jean to share it with their parents, Bea and Milton.

                   August 13-14

                   I can’t imagine what the NY papers are making out of this situation and I have visions of Daddy calling Eisenhower on the hour, but in spite of the tie-up of everything, Paris est encore Paris et je l’adore!

                    
                   Pas de trains, mails, gas, electricity (they have auxiliary systems however so no candles so far) etc. C’est vraiment formidable! Anyway as to me:

                    
                   Shortly before we disembarked at Le Havre we were told that the boat trains weren’t running so we would go by bus to Paris avec un petit paquet de lunch et une boteille de vin pour chacun. WELL, Le Havre was a MADHOUSE! Fortunately I got a porter who took pity on me and decided in ringing tones that “La petite fille n’est pas solide” so gave me a hand with les bagages. I sat next to a man in the bus – Jewish textile man from New York – married twice, 3 children, with a carton of Milium, Orlon, Nylon, etc. which he plans to take orders for all thru Europe. I wish you could have seen him struggling with this 300 lb carton, FANTASTIC. Anyway, we finally took off and rugged as the ride was, the Normandy countryside is so unbelievably beautiful that it was completely worth la difficulté. We finally got dropped off at La Gare des Invalides – I went off to the Hotel while my textile friend stayed at the station to try to make arrangements to get out of Paris avec carton somehow by the next AM [. . .] In the meantime I was to make a reservation for him [at the Continental], since all the evening flights out of Paris had been cancelled (Air France had walked out of the control towers). Well, don’t you think the management decided to give him the room next to mine avec un connecting door and when he finally arrived told him they had “fixed everything”! So then I knew I was in Paris. […]

                   Had lunch yesterday with the textile man (who still hadn’t been able to get out via plane, train or bus) at The Rond Point […] Finally, the textile man got himself to Zurich – Thank GOD (for me, as well as for him and the future of Milium).

Like the rest of her family, Ande is very alert to (and not shy about commenting on) social status and background – particularly who is Jewish and who is not – and, because her father Milton was in the textile business, she shares details of fabrics (e.g. Milium, Orlon, Nylon) and, later in the letter, the fashion houses she hopes to visit (e.g. Fath, Dior, Lanvin, Carven).

                   
                   Last night had dinner with some girls from the boat at La Reine Pedaque (Chateaubriant avec Bernaise, Vin Rosay, etc.) and went to the folies. Not BAD. The girls are Navy wives who are planning to meet their husbands – jet fliers – in Cannes. We met a Naval Commander at the folies who gave us a big speech about getting out of Paris as soon as possible, etc. etc but I feel quite sure he was a typical Naval alarmist and anyway there’s no way to get out. The trains aren’t running, the busses are completely jammed, half the planes aren’t flying and those that are, are so overloaded I’d rather put my life in the hands of a striking Frenchman on the ground. […]

                                                          Am not in the least lonely and wish I felt this way chez New York. […]

                                                          I went over to the St. James et D’Albany ce matin because I thought I would have a chat with the vendeuse there and see if I couldn’t get into some of the collections. Fath and Dior are open only for buyers now, but she gave me cards for Lanvin and Carven so that should be pleasant.

                                                          Paris seems extremely uncrowded and I suppose even the people scheduled to come are staying away until all this gets settled. […] Ce soir j’ai mangée avec mes amies du bateau à un très bon restaurant sur la rive gauche.

                                                          I’m going to take a chance on mailing this. Maybe you will get it by next January!

                                                          Love, Moi

Lanvin dress 1953 ( https://www.pinterest.com/volfi/lanvin/)

Carven dress 1953 (https://www.pinterest.com/eastoo1133/1950s-cocktail-and-evening-dresses/)