Elaine Eff:  Today is July 9, 2001.  This is Elaine Eff and I’m in the home of Naomi Kellman at Spring House at 8911 Reisterstown Road in Pikesville in Baltimore, Maryland.  And I am recording her stories for the Jewish Women’s Archive “Weaving Women’s Words.”  So, Naomi, why don’t you tell—why don’t you start with—why don’t you just tell me your name and when you were born and you can probably just keep going.

Naomi Kellman:  [chuckles]  I’ll do that and go for 90 years.  Well, I was born July 31, 1911.  We lived in East Baltimore, which was a Jewish community in those days.  I lived there until I was three and then we moved to Madison Avenue right below the park where, again, a lot of the Jewish community lived.  There was a great big field, I remember, right where Temple Gardens now stands.  I used to chase butterflies there and I would go out with my nurse to the park and sit with her while the squirrels came and ate peanuts off my hand.  And it was very pleasant.  I remember going to the zoo with my father.  It was a nice childhood, and then when I was eight we moved to Windsor Hills.

EE:  Tell me about Madison Avenue.  What kind of neighborhood?  What kind of house did you live in?

NK:  It was a row house.  The houses look exactly like they looked then.  They—were pretty upscale Jewish neighborhood.  And I think—we sold it to a black family, I think.  But it looks exactly like it looked then—upscale, you know—very neat, very clean with white stone steps—white marble steps, I guess they are.  And I remember one day my mother let me go out and clean the steps, wash the steps.  Did I have a good time!  So I looked at them after I washed them, “Gee, now how do I get into the house?”  So I walked around the back because I wasn’t going to walk on those pristine steps.  Pristine steps—they were white and beautiful.

EE:  Who else lived—who lived in the house with you?

NK:  My mother and father because I was an only child for nine and a half years, and then my aunt and uncle and two cousins moved in with us.  And then we—they moved out.  I mean, they moved out—it was temporarily.  And then they moved to their house in Forest Park, and—I guess it was Forest Park on Winfield Avenue.  And we shortly afterwards moved to Windsor Hills on Alto Road.  We lived in this huge house.  We lived downstairs.  My uncle, who was a professor at Hopkins, moved upstairs.  Then when they went to Germany to live my father bought the whole house except for and we rented out five-room, a five-room apartment.  That’s the place I’ve always called home and I loved it—a huge lawn—two acres and a tennis court and a kitchen garden.  And it really was,  a little house on it for the gardener.  And it was really a great place for parties and just to go out and lie in the sun, and I was very privileged to live there.

EE:  What did your—

NK:  And it was just a good life.  Originally, my uncle and aunt lived there but they went to Germany.  He was a professor at Hopkins and that was when my father bought the whole house. 

EE:  What did your father do for a living?

NK:  He was a lawyer and a well-known lawyer, and he was a leader in the—Zionist leader in the community and one of the founders of Beth Tfiloh and president for I don’t know how long.

EE:  Now, where was Beth Tfiloh then located?

NK:  On—I think it was on Norfolk—in Forest Park on Norfolk Avenue.  We—he founded—he was one of the founders and I think first it was in a frame house.  I don’t remember where—the street it was on first.  But that’s where it eventually was built.

EE:  So do you always remember going to Beth Tfiloh or do you remember going somewhere else before that?

NK:  Always went to Beth Tfiloh.

EE:  I’m kind of—I want to finish up sort of with your houses and your neighborhood—

NK:  Okay.

EE:  —before we get into Beth Tfiloh.  So why don’t we—

NK:  Okay.

EE:  —do that?  Why don’t you tell me, if you can, first about the difference—you said you lived in East Baltimore and—

NK:  That I don’t remember at all.

EE:  Okay.  So why don’t you tell me about the neighborhoods on Madison Avenue and, actually, what was the address?

NK:  The address was 2545 and I can tell one of my neighbors was the Hirschbergs.  They lived next door to us.  They owned the art store. And another neighbor—somebody by the name of Smith.  I don’t know what they did but I think she got sick and lost her speech.  Oh, I think her son was lost in World War I or killed, and that’s when she was shocked speechless literally.  And then I don’t know if you know her or know of her—Beatrice Goldberg Nassauer. [Now, why did you make that face?]  She lived—Bea Goldberg—she lived two doors up.  Did you know Irving Applefeld?  Did you know Irving Applefeld?  Anyway, then he lived next door to her, I think—Bea Goldberg.  And eventually, Temple Garden—and then there was just a great big field where Temple Gardens now stands and where I used to go and chase butterflies.  My nurse would take me out to the park, as I said before.  And I remember once having peanuts and I held my hand out.  I remember this so distinctly.  And this little squirrel came up and scared the living daylights out of me.  And it was very pleasant because I remember my father used to take me for walks on Sunday, and we used to go to the zoo and to the conservatory.  He seemed to be very interested in that, and then when I was eight years old—I think we lived there for about five years—the neighborhood, as I said, was upscale Jewish—primarily Jewish.  I don’t think the Smiths were Jewish.  But—

EE:  Do you remember the neighborhood having been something other than Jewish before you moved there or was it—were the houses built when you moved in or—

NK:  Yeah.

EE:  They were—you moved into them new?

NK:  I don’t know whether they were brand new or whether my father bought the house from somebody—not a realtor so much as an owner, somebody that lived there.  I really don’t know.  I don’t think they were brand new but they were very nice houses.  I remember the layout.  The parlor on the right hand side as you walked in and there was a parlor, for guests only.  And you walked back—I guess it was kind of—there was a hall and there was a staircase—it was a dark one too—going upstairs.  And then there was a dining room and then there was the kitchen and then you went to the backyard.  And upstairs there was a wonderful library and in the library there was an alcove in the far—on the back wall.  That’s where my father would sit and tell me stories, and in the front window was a bow window—looked out on Madison Avenue and it was a lovely room.  And it had a very interesting chandelier; I remember it was kind of copper colored.  And then my aunt and uncle and two cousins moved in on their way from East Baltimore to—down to Forest Park.  And they lived on the third floor while their house was getting—being readied or until they bought a house, whatever.

EE:  Did you think of it as a large house?  How did you think of the house when you were—

NK:  I didn’t know any better—the only thing I knew.  And then when we moved to Windsor Hills we had bought this huge house but it was a—there were two apartments.  We lived downstairs and my uncle and aunt lived upstairs.  But the house was huge—even I had sense enough to know that—and two acres of ground, and the tennis court, and gorgeous oak tree.  We had a dozen; I counted them once.  And then when my aunt and uncle went to Germany to live—he was a professor at Hopkins—my father bought the house from him.  We had a five-room apartment; we had the rest of the house—a 14-room house, I think. And then I got sisters.  They came when I was nine years old and I got three sisters in rapid succession, and I was very thrilled.  But it was really great.  I could climb trees.  We had a wonderful pear tree to climb.  You couldn’t climb the cherry tree though, and we had a kitchen garden.  You could go out front—outside and pick your corn and have it for supper, and it really tasted good.

EE:  Who else, who lived in that neighborhood?

NK:  Oh, yes—very distinguished people.  First, my uncle was a professor of Egyptology, lived with us and then he moved around the corner and then—well, then he went to Germany and came back and lived around the corner.  And that’s where he was burned to death, had a tragic fire—he and his wife and his younger son.  The two older children were at their aunt’s house and they survived.  And [coughs] the Burgunders—he had owned the, Lansburgh’s in Washington, a department store.  The Burgunders lived there and the Hollanders lived there.  They owned Rem’s [phonetic].  And Gundersheimer, I don’t know what he did, and Dr. Fagan, who taught at Hopkins.  There were a number of professors there, as I say, and Uncle Aaron and people by the name of Schwartz who were in the clothing business.  And the Cuban Consul lived next door to us, and people by the name of Schultz lived next door to the Cuban Consul. 

EE:  Who did you play with and who were your friends growing up?

NK:  Who were my friends?  Oh, the Brodies—Israel Brodie, Naomi Brodie and Ruthie Brodie.  He was a lawyer.

EE:  Yeah, tell me about who your friends were, who—

NK:  Well, I—Brodie—Mr. Brodie was a lawyer too and Lieba Sachs.  They were cousins; they were first cousins.  And then there were the Beezers [phonetic].  See, Rosie was a social worker.  Well, they were younger.  They were my sister’s friends.  They’re the only ones I really remember.  And, oh, there was an Ann Fauntroy who lived in back of me.  She wasn’t Jewish.

EE:  Tell me about the neighborhood.  What was it like?  Can you describe it?

NK:  It was rural.  It was a little like Mount Washington but it had—it was more diverse in its housing, and some of the houses were very elegant.  There was one house, or two houses—there was one house that looked like almost a Greek temple.  It was a red brick with long columns.  My father almost bought that and my mother said, “You buy it and I don’t live with you.”  So we didn’t buy it; so we bought a bigger house.  [chuckles]  But it was a different kind of a house, and then they made it bigger because they added sun parlors.  I mean, sun parlors were all the vogue.  And, as I said, my uncle lived there, upstairs—and downstairs—and when they moved we took over the whole house and made that small apartment.  And that was really a lovely house.  I mean, it was an architectural monstrosity but it was great inside.  We had this huge long living room with a fireplace at one end.  It was very graceful.  I don’t know whether your mother ever saw that house or not—a graceful staircase going upstairs and that took up the whole front of the house.  And then the back was a huge dining room with my mother’s very nice dining room furniture and her silver service—you know, the trays and the pieces.  And to the left of that was the library, which was something anybody would give his eyeteeth for—books by the hundreds—I guess maybe close to a thousand books all around.  And then there was a tiny breakfast room and a kitchen and a bathroom, because I lived in there.  Before we moved it was an apartment, and then upstairs we—three bedrooms and then that apartment—an apartment and a shower stall in the bathroom, and a regular bathroom with a tub, and then the five-room apartment, as I said. [coughs]  It was really very nice and kind of impressive when you looked at it from the outside—it’s still standing there—and this huge, expansive lawn to the left—no, to the right, I guess, as you walked out the front and its great big, wide steps to go up to the front door.  And to get up to the wide steps you had to—you came in a small—not—well, what—it was a gateway but there was no gate.  There was a little entrance and a little path, go up these huge steps, and—with no railing.  We were agile to go up those steps.  I’m scared to death to do it now without holding on to something.  And we just had stones—jagged stone on either side.  But, of course, you could reach it with the steps—it was so wide.  And there was a wrap-around porch, and it was really ideal.

EE:  What did the house look like on the outside?

NK:  I’ll have to take you around and show it to you.  It was a yellow shingle house—varying shades of yellow to pale white depending upon when it was painted—and green shutters.  And then they added the sun parlor too.  It was a nice house until they added—destroyed it architecturally, really—and they added these sun parlors that eventually had all—one became a small living room and the other became a sleeping porch when we took over the whole house.

EE:  Do you mean they put them on two floors?

NK:  Yeah.

EE:  A two-story sun porch.

NK:  Yeah.

EE:  Very nice.

NK:  [unclear] uncle lived upstairs and it was a living room.  Yeah, it was a living room only.

EE:  What did living in Windsor Hills mean at that time?

NK:  It was pretty prestigious.  It was—it was just as prestigious living there as it was in Pikesville, except it wasn’t quite as ostentatious.  I mean, you had as much money and you had a lot of professors living there, and a lot of well-known people.  I guess we didn’t have as many millionaires but there were a few, the Hollanders, the Burgunders.  It was a very well-heeled neighborhood.  It was also a mixed neighborhood.  As I said, the Cuban Consul lived next door to us and believe me, he wasn’t Jewish.  And another non-Jewish family lived next door to him.  As a matter of fact, the Shultzes told us that—or I guess the Cuban counsel, Consul told us when Jews were buying that house, they tried to move heaven and earth to prevent the sale from going through.  And they couldn’t because there was no restrictions.  Then they discovered we didn’t have horns, and they told us that, and we became very good friends.

EE:  When did you actually begin to—and was your life pretty defined by Judaism and by knowing Jewish people?

NK:  I’m sure it was, yes.  I don’t think I ever knew—except for some people I played tennis with who lived in the back, I really don’t think I knew any non-Jews—oh, no, at high school I did.  You see, I went to Park School and they were primarily Jewish, and then when I went to public school though I had non-Jewish friends.  I went to a public high school, to Forest Park.  And my parents couldn’t stand me anymore; I was so snobbish.  And—

EE:  Where was Park School located when you went to it?

NK:  Well, when I was in the kindergarten—first, I went to the kindergarten—that was on Mount Royal Avenue.  No, not Mount Royal Avenue.  What is the name of that street?  I know how to get there.

EE:  Take me there.

NK:  I can take you there.

EE:  Can you take me there in your mind yet?  But it was downtown.

NK:  No, it wasn’t downtown; it was midtown.  You know that old Shaarei Tifiloh

EE:  Shaarei Tfiloh.

NK:  Tfiloh synagogue, a great stone synagogue, red brick stone.  That’s where it was.  Two red brick houses and this was one of them, and that’s where my kindergarten was, and then it moved to Liberty Heights Avenue.  And that’s where I went to school on Liberty Heights.  And you know the street that runs past Carlins between—I think it’s Reisterstown Road and goes up—goes up to Reisterstown Road or Park Heights or whatever it is—not Park Heights.  But anyhow, that’s—it was right there at that corner.  I mean, that’s where the little station was.  Then it sat far back—then along the ground it had a lacrosse field, I think—and so—and a hockey field.  It had several buildings; I remember a woodworking shop.

EE:  Who went to Park School at that time?

NK:  Well, in my class—well, Walter Sondheim; you’ve seen his name around.  He was a senior in high school when I was, I think, in—I must have been a freshman in high school.  And his sister went there.  Her name was Bertha; she was older than he.  Jane Hutzler was in my class.  The Hutzler brothers—her brother and sister went there.  And Dorothy Hess was in my class, who owned Hess shoe stores, a—somebody by the name of Dorothy Loeb, and a Henry Bierney who was the Suburban Club—belonged, went there.  Who else went there?  And a friend of mine, Lieba Sachs.  Her father was a lawyer, a well-known lawyer and her cousins, the Brodies, until they went to Israel.  And—

EE:  How would you describe—I mean, besides, you know, by name—what—it sounds to me like there were a lot of—a certain group of people that went to Park.

NK:  Well, they were pretty upscale, financially, and I think upscale in every sense of the word, professionally.  I mean, you didn’t get any laborers or little grocery store people.  They were all very well heeled.  I mean, I guess I was among the poorer ones there.

EE:  Where—it sounds to me like they were the most—it was primarily German Jews.

NK:  There were.

EE:  What—were you aware of those—

NK:  Oh, yes.  Oh, yes! [emphatic]

EE:  Tell me about that.

NK:  There was a very definite class distinction.  I was also not invited to all their parties.  They belonged to the Suburban Club.  Now, my father didn’t want to belong to a club but if he did he would have belonged to the Woodholme, which I guess in the eyes of the Suburban Club was a step down, you know, socially speaking.

EE:  [unclear]

NK:  There was a level—the Suburban Club—the German Jews were quote, unquote, the elite.  But they had been here.  They were all assimilated when the Russian Jews came over.  Now, my father was a baby, so in a sense he was not born here but he grew up here.  And, of course, I was born here.

EE:  Now, where was your father from?

NK:  Russia.  That’s all I know.  I mean, I don’t know whereabouts.

EE:  So, did you actually have the sense that you were discriminated against as a Russian Jew?

NK:  I think I felt like they thought I was inferior.  There was that sense of inferiority because I remember too meeting a—one of the girls.  It was a woman by this time saying to me, “Oh, you were one of the few people I liked in my class.”  I thought to myself, ‘That’s a good joke.’  But she was one of the very definite German Jews.  Her father was Judge Frank and, of course, you know it was very interesting because I lived as well as they did.  We didn’t have a butler but we had, I think, like three in help and a gardener, and a maid, or two maids in the house, depending—and the house was a very beautiful house.  And the grounds were beautiful but there was a difference.  Believe me, there was a difference. 

EE:  Did you have a sense that you could be—only be friends with one group of people or that you had to choose your friends or that you were chosen?

NK:  It was probably a feeling of being chosen because the German Jews just were a clique.  And if there was a class party or something I was invited, but I wasn’t invited to their little parties, you know.  Or—and see, their parents were friends. And I remember—this was after I was grown—one of the guys I went to school with, Arthur Gutman, said to me, “Your father was a well known lawyer.”  And I really gasped because I didn’t know he knew my father was a lawyer, let alone well known.  But, I mean, that’s how different we were, how separated we were. 

EE:  Were there ever any incidents, you know, sort of between the—

NK:  No.

EE:  —Jewish classes?

NK:  No, no.  But there was a—there was a distinction that doesn’t exist now.  Then there were people who came in later who didn’t know, who weren’t aware of the difference, because, see, we, after all, by that time the Russian Jews were pretty affluent.  And so they didn’t know that there was a difference between the Russian Jews and the German Jews.  And these people, of course, I guess, are mostly Russian Jews who had come in more recent—after—it must have been after World War II—I don’t know—or later.  It was quite a distinction between the two and I know I felt it.

EE:  Were there places that you could or couldn’t go that—

NK:  Oh, not Jewish. [I don’t want it anyway.] [chuckles]  We couldn’t go because the non-Jews wouldn’t let us.

EE:  What kind of places?

NK:  I think there were some swimming pools we weren’t allowed to go to.  I don’t know how they would have known.  I guess—where else weren’t we allowed to go?  I—there were places where we could not go and we just didn’t go—I mean, I would never even think of trying to go.  I can’t think of what they are now.  But believe me, there were.

EE:  So tell me about your transferring from Park School to Forest Park High School.

NK:  Oh, you talk about changes.  I cried so.  My mother was about to send me back to either Park School or another private school when I finally got adjusted.  That was worse than going from a high school to college, which seemed like a natural transition.  But, I mean,  when you come from a school with 16—15 in your class where you can move your desk around or get up and sit on the door stoop, and where everybody talked at one time in class, and then you go to a classroom where there are like 50 in your class, and everybody sit—has to sit in a seat and can’t move, there’s a difference.  And there were so many people whom I didn’t know.  One girl, I remember, said to me—I mean, I met her on the streetcar going home, and she said, “My name is such-and-such.”  And she happened to know a lot of Park School people.  She went with them.  She said, “I’m in your class.”  She recognized me but I didn’t recognize her.  It took me a long while before I got to know these people, and then I loved it.

EE:  Now, why did you transfer?

NK:  Well, I think there were several reasons.  One, my parents said that I was so snobbish they couldn’t stand me.  Then, by that time I had three sisters and there was a little business of money.  And  Park School was expensive.  It’s one thing to send one child when you only have one child, but another thing when you’ve got three other kids.

EE:  So, did your other sister—where did your other sisters go to school?

NK:  Well, they had—they had a wonderful advantage.  They went to the Windsor Hills School, which had all the advantage—it was brand new, so it had all the advantages of a public school and all the advantages of a private school.  And it was fairly small and it was up the street from us. 

EE:  Tell me about Forest Park in those years, and when did you graduate?

NK:  I graduated in 1929 and I loved it and—once I got acclimated.  I really loved it. Because I went out for hockey and tennis and basketball—I was lousy in basketball.  And I’ll tell you, I also studied hard—got nothing else to do.  I didn’t have any friends so I was a pretty good student, which I wasn’t at Park because I didn’t bother to study.  And in Park School I was—I failed every year in arithmetic but every year regularly and had to be coached every summer.  And they would say to my mother, “She doesn’t have to do arithmetic.  She can write.”  Well, guess what?  At public school they didn’t think that was such a great idea, so they flunked me, so I had to go to summer school.  And by that time I took geometry and that was okay because I could memorize it, but it was a whole different ballgame.  I think having so many people in the class was confusing but it was great.  After awhile I really loved and made good friends there.

EE:  How did you go to school?  How did you get to school from Windsor Hills?

NK:  Either the streetcar, or I think I walked a lot of time.  It was a good healthy walk but I walked it.

EE:  What was the neighborhood like between your house and [Forest Park]?

NK:  It was pretty good.  I mean, Windsor Hills, of course, was quite prestigious.  But it wasn’t elegant like Roland Park, but it was just as prestigious, I think.  And, I mean, you’d certainly never be ashamed to say you lived in Windsor Hills, and it was very academic.

EE:  Where was the business district in Windsor Hills?

NK:  Well, there’s Wallbrook Junction, and that’s where you had the stores, or up on Garrison Boulevard or Garrison Avenue—Garrison and Liberty Heights.

EE:  Do you remember any of the stores especially that you went to or that your mother went to?

NK:  Well, there was the Windsor Drug Store, that was on Windsor Mill Road, and there was an A&P at the junction.  I think it was an A&P. And I think there was a candy store there at the junction where you could go to—where you waited for the Windsor Hills car.  We had a Tooterville Trolley that ran back and forth between the—Wallbrook Junction and Hillsdale.  There was a drugstore on the corner and I don’t know the name of it.  And then there was the Windsor Drug—the Windsor Drug Company Drug Store—whatever it was.

EE:  Where did you hang out?  Did you hang out with your friends anywhere?  After school—where would you go?  Where would you go after school?

NK:  To my house, I guess. 

EE:  Now, tell me about your mother.

NK:  She was a mother. 

EE:  What does that mean?  What did she look like?  Where was she from?

NK:  She was born in Russia there.  She was up there.  She was not stylish looking, although she wore pretty good clothes.  She was fat—say, pleasingly plump—more than pleasingly plump.

EE:  What was her name?

NK:  Annie—good old-fashioned Annie and she was very—she was a wonderful mother, and she was very welcoming of our friends.  And we could always bring people home for a meal.  There was never a problem.  All of our friends—I mean, first place—first, it was me and then my sisters.  And that house was always filled with kids  which after my sisters got old enough to have their own friends, and my father was kind of scholarly and he was quite well known.  As a matter of fact, he was so well known that when he died his funeral—he was buried from inside the shul.  The coffin was placed in front of the altar.  I think it was the first time that was ever done.

EE:  Tell me his name.

NK:  Harry T. Kellman, and he’s written up in “Who’s Who in American Jewry,” and “Tercentenary History of Maryland.”

EE:  What was his contribution?

NK:  Well, he was a well-known lawyer and he was a well-known Zionist.  He was a Zionist leader.  He was president of the local district and president of the Seaboard Region. 

EE:  And what do you remember about his involvement and about his—I guess his political involvement with Zionism?  Would you call it political?

NK:  Well, he believed in emigrating to Palestine.  I mean, he, I don’t think, would have gone, but that’s what he believed in. 

EE:  Did you ever have meetings at your home?  Do you remember any of those?

NK:  I don’t remember any of the meetings.  I’m sure we did.  We used to have great big dances for that and for Hadassah because we had a tennis court, and we could have the dances out on the tennis court.  It was a great party place.

EE:  Yeah, what were you doing with a tennis court?

NK:  Playing tennis.

EE:  Who were the tennis players in the family?

NK:  Me, and my neighbors.

EE:  Were you a serious player?

NK:  Well, I thought I was serious.  I wasn’t so great but I played seriously and I loved it, and I was always very popular in the summer.  [chuckles]

EE:  Now, what do you remember about growing up as a Jew?  What do you remember about Judaism coming into your home or going to the temple?

NK:  It’s part of my life.  I don’t think I ever thought about it.  I never thought about it.  I mean, I had non-Jewish friends and I invited them over and, I tell you, it was a very nice house, and everything.  I mean, I think—every—I could always be very proud of everything in the house.  At least, I was.  Whether it was worth being proud of, I don’t know.  I think it was.  I mean, this beautiful library, this elegant living room. 

EE:  Did you observe the Sabbath in the home?

NK:  [chuckles]  After my father got religion.

EE:  What do you mean, after he got religion?

NK:  [chuckles]  When he became president of the shul. And because before he wasn’t that observant, but then he became strictly observant—the riding and—of course, we were always kosher.  And—does that bother you?

EE:  [Hot.]

NK:  Oh.  I don’t know how to open the window.

EE:  Oh, no, that’ s not [unclear].

NK:  Oh—

EE:  Can you remember how—remember Sabbaths in your house?  What the rituals were?

NK:  Yes, of course—mother lighting the candles before dinner—always candles on the table.  Friday night was always a special dinner.  I’m afraid it was mostly fish, which I hated but—and the good china.  And when we had guests they were generally invited for Friday night, and the Shab[bos] chala covered by the napkins, and my father saying Kiddish.  And this was true on Saturday too.  We didn’t have chalas on Saturday, and I could not miss a—I never missed a meal on Saturday.  And I would bring people home.  That’s when I always brought people home for dinner, which was midday.  And that was always a special meal.  It was always very, very nice, and then on Saturday afternoons these wonderful—they had Oneg Shabbats at our house.  This started out when my father and a group of Windsor Hills men would take walks.  They were people like Philip Sachs, who was a lawyer and Mano Schwarz—I don’t know if you ever heard of him, the furrier—and another—and the Besers.  No football.  They landed at somebody’s house for tea, and eventually they landed at our house most of the time and then all the time, because we had the biggest house.  And so every Saturday afternoon they came to our house for tea—tea and talk.  And Henrietta Szold’s sister was one of those who came regularly.  I think Henrietta Szold might have been there once or twice; I’m not sure.  And her niece is a friend of mine.

EE:  Who would that be?

NK:  Henrietta Szold?

EE:  Tell me about Henrietta Szold.  Did you meet her?

NK:  I don’t think I did.  I don’t remember meeting her.  I knew the family very well.  Eva Leah is exactly three days older than I am and we’ve been friends since our carriage days, I guess.  She was the founder of Hadassah and probably the foremost Jewish woman in the world.

EE:  Were there many stories about her told in Baltimore?

NK:  Oh, sure.  She’s a Baltimorian.  Her father was a—Rabbi Szold and her brother-in-law was Lewis H. Levin and her niece was Eva Lea, who was my friend.  There are two—Sarah and Harriet Levin and a brother—two brothers—two, I guess.  And, well, I’ve known them all my life.

EE:  What’s—were there ever any stories told about Henrietta Szold?

NK:  Oh, millions of them.  I don’t remember any—I don’t remember any.  But she was the most famous Jewish woman in the world and, as I say, she founded Hadassah and the Hadassah Hospital.  She was a wonderful woman.  I mean, I didn’t know her but the girls—I mean, her nieces were crazy about her, although I think Eva Leah said she was a disciplinarian.  Maybe that’s what Eva Leah said about her.  And that’s about all I know about Henrietta Szold.

EE:  What do you remember about your getting involved in Jewish organizations?

NK:  I’ve never been terribly involved.  I was—I belonged to the B&P Hadassah and I was active.  I think I was president—some—

EE:  You called it the B&P Hadassah?

NK:  B&P, Business and  Professional women’s group.  I don’t think I was very—I was active to some extent.  I went to meetings and I think I was president but I’m not sure.

EE:  Were you involved in any organization when you were—you know, when you were—before you went to college?

NK:  No.  And actually, I wasn’t involved with any organizations when I went to college.

EE:  Where did you go to college?

NK:  Goucher, where all nice Jewish girls go.

EE:  And what did you study in college?  Was there—did you study with anyone?  Did you have anyone who influenced you in particular?

NK:  You mean professors?  I had a French professor, Mademoiselle Rosselét, who I thought was simply marvelous.  I remember she’d speak French to us whenever she saw us.  She’d chatter away and then one day we were walking down Charles Street and when Goucher was in town chatting away in French going a mile a minute.  And then all of a sudden she stopped dead and turned and looked at me and said in English, “You weren’t in class this morning.”  [laughs]  She wanted to make sure I understood that.  She was really a wonderful lady.

EE:  What did you major in in college?

NK:  English.

EE:  And that—so tell me what your memories of Goucher were.  It’s funny.  We don’t think of Goucher as—you know, when I was growing up we never thought of it as a Jewish place.

NK:  Well, it wasn’t Jewish.

EE:  Right.

NK:  It’s Methodist.  But I think there were a lot of Jewish students—city girls there anyway.  And there some non—some out-of-towners too.  And there was a little group and they found each other.  The out-of-towners found the city girls and vice versa.  And the interesting thing about Goucher in those days, they had sororities—no Jewish sororities.  And, of course, joining a sorority, you have to be invited to join.  It was a feather in any girl’s cap and there were many hearts broken because a girl’s mother—

[End of Side 1, Tape 1]

NK:  —belonged to a sorority and the sorority—didn’t invite her to join.  And there were all kinds of politics.  And there were a lot of Jewish girls, you know, who weren’t so Jewish who thought they should have been invited.  And they weren’t invited and got to—be in a non-Jewish sorority that have a Jewish girl as a member. But now I don’t think they have sororities at all.

EE:  Were there tensions between Jewish students and non-Jewish students?

NK:  I don’t think so.  I don’t think so.  If so, I didn’t know it.  Maybe there were in the dormitories.  See, I didn’t have that.  And I didn’t really—no.  I mean, I never heard of any.  I think—no, I’m sorry to say,  I think most of  the officers were Jewish.  But that’s not true. A friend of mine, a Jewish friend—Elsie Abrams Seff was a president of City Girls.  And I found it a very pleasant place.

EE:  What was City Girls?

NK:  The girls from in town.  In the city, you know, the Association of City Girls, those were “in-town” girls.

EE:  What—do you remember sororities when you were in high school at Forest Park?

NK:  Not really.  I don’t really remember.  There were certainly no Jewish sororities.  At least, I don’t think there were.  Anyway, I didn’t belong to any.

EE:  Well, what was the reputation of Forest Park when you went there?

NK:  I think it’s better than it is now.  But it’s not so great.  Not—it was new and that is why I think I was sent there.  You know, at that time my parents couldn’t stand me anymore and I had to go to public school.  Besides, they couldn’t afford it anymore—private school.  And so they went to—I went to Forest Park but it was brand new and it was supposed to be so great, but I don’t think it is now.  I think it is probably the least good of the public schools.

EE:  Yeah, you don’t hear much about it—

NK:  No, I—

EE:  —anymore.  You really don’t, but, which in this day and age is good.

NK:  Yeah.

EE:  Yeah.  So, tell me about what you did after—did you maintain your—any ties to the Jewish community besides your friends—I mean, to the Beth Tfiloh?

NK:  Oh, I still belong to Beth Tfiloh.  For awhile I was active in the Sisterhood.  I was active and then somehow I drifted away; I think after I moved out here and gave up my car and just couldn’t get places after I moved here. 

EE:  When did you leave—give up the house in Windsor Hills?

NK:  At about—oh, we gave up the house in Windsor Hills a long time ago, it seems to me.  I know, because before my mother died—I guess maybe the ‘40s or the ‘50s, and then we moved out to Park Heights—to Labyrinth Road.  We lived there for about 25, 30 years.  We lived every place for 25 or 30 years.  I ought to be older than God. Well, I am.  [unclear] because Mother lived on Labyrinth Road.  That was the first time I ever lived outside of Windsor Hills.  No, it wasn’t the first time but—

EE:  Why did you leave Windsor Hills?

NK:  Well, it was getting black, for one thing, and it was really—well, I guess that was the main reason.  And it was far from the mainstream, but I think probably because it was getting black.

EE:  In the ‘50s?

NK:  I guess so—‘60s, I guess.  Maybe it was later.

EE:  So, did you—did you not—did you see—were people starting to leave the neighborhood?

NK:  Yeah.

EE:  You noticed a white flight?

NK:  Yeah.  Maybe it was later than that.  We lived on Labyrinth Road for a long while.  God, the years go by.

EE:  Where did you live on Labyrinth Road?  What was your address?

NK:  3609; it was up—it was between Park Heights and Reisterstown.  We lived in Green Acres Apartments and—which were really nice apartments, or had been very elegant.  And then the neighborhood began to deteriorate.  And then—I’m trying to think.  What—I guess—we were there until my mother died, and then my sister had a stroke, went to a nursing home.  And my nieces decided I could not live there alone.  The neighborhood again was getting black and they—one—they came over, my niece and nephew, one Friday night and said, “Guess what?”  And I said, “What?”  They said, “You’re moving tomorrow.”  And I moved tomorrow.  Here I am.

EE:  It was that easy?

NK:  Well, I just put clothes in a suitcase and sold the furniture, except for this.  We’ve had this ever since I can remember.  And my nephew took our books.  He came down and took them.  But they kept the apartment for two months and Howard came and—we had this tremendous library.  And I guess we sold the rest of it.

EE:  You have a tremendously close family, don’t you?

NK:  Yeah.

EE:  Tell me about—

NK:  I think the cousins aren’t that close anymore but my other cousin—I mean, my mother’s sisters—my first cousins and I were very close.  Those two sisters didn’t speak but I’m close to them.  One died and I was particularly close to the older one.  The other one lives here at North Oaks.

EE:  What kinds of things did your family do to be together?

NK:  Well, my mother and my aunt were sisters so we celebrated holidays together and I know well, I trotted after my cousin, Zelma, like a little puppy dog.  And she was the bright one and the beautiful one and the everything one.  And Ruth was always so terribly popular.  And we were just friends.

EE:  Were there any special events or special occasions that—or rituals that your family observed?

NK:  No, not particularly.

EE:  Not any special holidays?

NK:  Well, we celebrated all the holidays and every Friday night.  I mean, I wasn’t allowed to go out for dinner on Friday night.  If I had guests—or Saturday—I had them over on Friday night or Saturday—for Saturday midday dinner.

EE:  Now, you stayed in the family house [unclear].

NK:  Yes, I stayed there until we moved to the apartment.  But my mother moved there too.  My father died when he was 50; he was very young.  He died—where were we living?  We were still living in Windsor Hills, I guess.  Yeah, we were still living in Windsor Hills when my father died.  Isn’t it funny?  I can’t think right.  We were living in the big house.  I remember his coffin was in front of the fireplace overnight and the cortege was tremendous, and then we moved to Labyrinth Road because the house was so big.

EE:  Tell me about your dad’s funeral, what you remember of it that’s interesting.

NK:  Well, it was at the—in the shul; I remember that.

EE:  When they took the—

NK:  The coffin in, all the way up to the bima.  They couldn’t get in on the bima.  And the rabbi spoke and I think there was somebody from New York who spoke.  And then after that—several weeks after they had a memorial service.  And then a plaque was mounted in his memory.  And he was the founder of the shul, you see.  (coughs) Procession. And then he went to the shul.  Don’t forget, we had the services at the shul.  And then they went from the shul to the cemetery.

EE:  At what point did you start taking over some of the household responsibilities?

NK:  I don’t think I ever really did—after Mother died, I guess.  She really was responsible.  I never did anything financially.  I don’t think I ever even paid rent. 

EE:  So, tell me what you did after Goucher.

NK:  Well, for a year I walked the streets [chuckles] for a job, and I was lucky because I could walk the streets looking for the kind of job I wanted.  And then I got—well—

EE:  That was during the Depression, wasn’t it?

NK:  Yeah, I got out in ’33 and they were just not looking for neophyte copywriters.  At least I knew what I wanted to do and somehow I knew what a copywriter was.

EE:  What was a copywriter?

NK:  Somebody who writes advertising copy.  What you see in the paper for the ads, that’s copy.  And eventually I got a job in Washington with the Hecht Company.  And from then on then I was in. 

EE:  So you—did you commute?

NK:  I think at first I lived there—lived with a cousin in a rooming house, and then I commuted.  And then I had an apartment with somebody, and then I left there and I went to New York.  And I worked there; then I came back to the Hecht Company.  And I think I went to Lansburgh’s first; then I went to the Hecht Company.  And my boss went to the Hecht Company.  And then what happened?  I must have retired at some point.  I think I went to an agency—an advertising agency.  At some point—oh, my first job I think it was with an agency—Van Sant Dugdale.  And I remember this guy—I answered an ad and sent in samples.  This man said to me, “If you’re going to have the job you should have we’ll hire you.”  And I’ve always said, “The minute they found out I was Jewish they’d fire me.”  Now, that may or may not have been true.  It could be my Jewish sensitivities.  But they knew I didn’t know anything to begin with.  I mean, I didn’t even know what copy was.

EE:  Well, how—what made you decide you wanted to be a copywriter?

NK:  I wanted to write ads.  I didn’t know what the term was, and I would rewrite the ads in the paper.  Those were the samples I showed.

EE:  Well, what influenced you most?   What kinds of things that you read or was there anybody in particular that influenced you to choose that career?

NK:  No, because I’ve been writing ever since I can remember, and I figured out that was the one way I could get into writing.  It was what I wanted to do when I was a little girl and I did it.

EE:  So, did you consider that a pretty successful career?

NK:  Yes, I think it was pretty successful.  I never made a whole lot of money.  A lot of people were a lot better and certainly a lot richer and made a lot more money.  But I think—I think I had good jobs.  I think my job at the Associated was a good one.

EE:  Yeah, now, when did that come up?  When did you switch over from—

NK:  I think it was 1952 that I went to the Associated.

EE:  And what made you do that?

NK:  I was probably working in Washington at that point, and I think there was an opening at the Associated.  And I walked in and I was hired.  Oh, Harry Greenstein had known my father and that might have prompted his hiring me, you know, right off the bat, and that boss was a bastard.  Your mother got along with him fine but your mother would have gotten along with the devil, so—and he was the reincarnation, anyway. [chuckles]

EE:  But you stayed there for a long time.

NK:  I think—Yeah, I out-stayed a lot of the bosses.  I stayed there for over 40 years.  Then I retired; then I came back for a couple of months.

EE:  Well, tell me about your tenure.  I mean, that—there’s a lot of change at the Associated Jewish Charities—

NK:  Oh, yes, it’s a—

EE:  —in 40 years.  What was it like when you started and what did you start at?  What was your—

NK:  Same thing; I was a copywriter and I never advanced, never made much money.  And I never even wanted to advance.  I mean, I didn’t want to be head of the department.  I’m not an executive.  I wanted to write—very simple—and that’s what I did. 

EE:  Are there any things there that you were particularly proud of?

NK:  That I’ve written?  Yeah, I probably have some stuff in my scrapbook that I like and feature stories—that’s feature stories that I’ve wrote on my—I freelanced.  I couldn’t tell you what they were at this point.  And I have “The History of Baltimore” which I think is pretty good, and it was—it was basically the history of the Associated.  I think they were stupid not to print it because they don’t even have one.  And if nothing else, I mean, it’s good for their records.

EE:  Do you remember doing the research?  What was that like?

NK:  Oh, well,  I love doing research.  I mean, I could do research all my life and not—and I like delving into the past.  So—reading old manuscripts and old—there’s one wonderful old history.  Who wrote it?  Blumberg—a guy by the name of Blumberg.  I think it’s the only history of the Jewish community that… Isaac Fein wrote one.  I don’t think that was so great. 

EE:  Have you seen Gil Sandler’s new one?

NK:  No.

EE:  No?

NK:  Does he have one out now?

EE:  Yeah, sort of taken from his articles that he wrote, columns that he wrote for the Jewish Times.

NK:  Oh, is it any good?

EE:  People like it.  People like it a lot because they find themselves in it.

NK:  Oh.

EE:  It’s very personal.

NK:  I’d like to see it.  I think I’ll go down and get a copy.

EE:  Do you have a library here?  I’ll bet it’s here.

NK:  I doubt it.  It’s not—Jewish a place.

EE:  Did you find—did you ever feel that you were in a field that was unkind to women workers?

NK:  No.

EE:  [unclear] any difficulties?

NK:  No.  No, either I’m very insensitive to these things, because, I mean, I never felt like I was discriminated against.  Now, when I was at Van Sant Dugdale they were notoriously antisemitic.  I don’t know whether they would have kept me on if I—if they hadn’t discovered I was Jewish or not.  But they sure as hell knew I didn’t know anything when I came.  But I really don’t know but it’s a possibility that they didn’t hire any Jews.

EE:  Was there anyone who influenced you particularly in your work?  Anybody you worked with who really inspired you?

NK:  I don’t think so. 

EE:  I mean, you really were the history.  You lived the history of the Associated.

NK:  In a sense I did, Yeah.  I mean, I was there for 40-odd years.  I was there when Harry Greenstein was there.  He’d been there awhile and he—I went there in ’52.  [How about some Ginger Ale?]

EE:  This is fine.

NK:  [I can offer you something stronger.]

EE:  I’m fine.

NK:  I told you I went there in 1952 and I think I stayed until 19—it wasn’t 1990 something, no.  It must have been in the ‘80s.  Well, I was there for 40-odd years altogether. 

EE:  Tell me how what—how it changed, like where was it located when you first started?

NK:  Okay, it was located on Monument Street—Monument and Eutaw.  And there was an old parking lot on the side and when you walked in.  The reception desk to the right was the room where I sat and your mother [Ann  Eff  Goldberg] sat opposite me.  And across the hall was Lou Friedman, the comptroller, and his secretary, and the campaign chairman—on the right hand side—that’s where—I sat first until I had to go in the back.  And upstairs was Jewish Family Services.  And around the corner was the Jewish Big Brother League and the Associated Placement and Guidance Bureau.  And then, what else was there?  And the Jewish Big Brother League.  I guess that was it.  And oh, HIAS was there too.  That was—and then the Jewish Family and Children’s Service, and then the Hebrew Hospital was renamed Sinai.  And that moved from downtown uptown, and the Jewish community to the JEA.  I don’t—I think it moved to the Jewish—became the Jewish Community Center, the merger of the Y and the JEA—the merger of the two agencies—YM—YWHA—the three agencies.  And they were right down the street, right next door to the Associated.  Not—I don’t remember the chronology there, what came first, but I think they were all there when I got there in ’52.  Sure, they were.  And, gosh, how [unclear] forget.

EE:  So, were they all sort of—was it one big, happy family?  Did—

NK:  Well, they were just separate buildings.  The Associated was in this building and there was a parking lot, and then it was JCC, and so were separate buildings, separate agencies, except that the JCC was part of the Associated.  And I guess we were a pretty happy family.  Oh, and the Associated Placement and Guidance Bureau and the Jewish Big Brother League were around the corner in those days.  And HIAS was somewhere in the building.  It seemed to me it was on the ground level.  You went in by way of the parking lot.  And then they bought the Uptown property.  I think first the JCC moved out.  The JCC was a merger of the JEA—the Jewish Education Alliance, the YM, the YWHA.  They moved out and they went up to Park Heights.  And then I—not have my chronology right, and then the Jewish Family and Children’s Service went up, and the Big Brother League and HIAS.  And when did the Associated go up?  Oh, the Hebrew College as well; oh, the Hebrew College was on Eutaw Place and Wilson and they went up.  And I don’t remember when the Associated went up. 

EE:  But you went up with them, right?

NK:  Yeah.

EE:  Do you remember any really sort of important things that happened during the period that you worked there besides the move up to Northwest Baltimore?  Any specific events like, you know, visit or travel?

NK:  Let me think.  Who [unclear] came—I thought I’d never forget it.  I think the Prince of Wales was there—came to visit us.  I could go through my history; you’ll probably pick up some things.

EE:  How long did you work with that “History of the Associated?”

NK:  Oh, I don’t remember.  It probably took me awhile and a lot of research.  And I’m a slow writer.

EE:  So, did you—you stayed with the Associated—the—in the same job more or less?

NK:  Yeah, no advancement—not even much in salary either.  But I loved what I was doing.  And as long as I could write that was all I wanted.

EE:  Did you write much for the newspaper?

NK:  Yeah.

EE:  What kind of things did you write?

NK:  Feature stories.  Here’s a whole book of it.

EE:  Oh, I’ll have to look—we’ll have to look at those.

NK:  And freelance and feature stuff that I sent in to the newspapers.  Yeah, I got a lot of stuff in the papers.  I got some good publicity, if I do say so.

EE:  Yeah.  Do you remember any stories that you wrote that were particularly—that made a difference or—

NK:  To the Associated?

EE:  Well, or to anyone.

NK:  I don’t think anything made a difference.  [unclear] there was a story that I don’t even remember what I wrote. 

EE:  Did you ever think about writing a book besides the “History of the Associated?”

NK:  I think I’ve thought about it but I don’t have the stamina.  I don’t think I have the mind that can go that long.  I could probably write a history of something.  I couldn’t write anything really creative.  I don’t think I’m that creative.

EE:  So, what do—what did you do in your spare time?  What did you do for leisure?  Did you travel much?

NK:  Yeah, I went to Europe several times.  Once, I went just to three capitols, Rome, Paris, London.  Once I went to Israel for two weeks and to Europe for two weeks.  Once I just went to Israel.  And I went to California—that’s not Europe.

EE:  Did you ever visit any of your cohorts when you went to Israel, people from similar organizations?

NK:  No, I never did.

EE:  And how did you maintain Judaism [unclear] in the home?

NK:  How did we—

EE:  After your mother passed away?

NK:  I’m afraid we didn’t do much.  I mean, one of the great things we did when I was growing up and my father was still alive we had some interesting people at our house, like Bialik, the poet.  And one of the men was like the prime minister of Israel; I don’t know his name.  He was there, but we had—came with his daughter I remember.  And we had some pretty interesting people there.

EE:  Did you have friends within the—within the Associated that you were particularly friendly with, or—

NK:  No, because—oh, Phyllis Hirsch, whom I still see.  And your mother and I were friends.  And—

EE:  Why don’t you talk—mention my mother’s name just so you have it on the record.

NK:  Oh, your mother, Ann Eff.  She was a great secretary.  She was a very—your mother was a very—she—a vision person, and a kind of takeover person in a nice way.  She could take charge; she could—she could pull things together and do things.  She was a leader; she was an organizer.  Don’t you think so?

EE:  Yeah.  That’s—I could use some of her skills right now.

NK:  I think all of us could use some of her skills. 

EE:  Who have been your best friends?  I mean, do you have people who have been your closest friends over the years?  I’m curious about your friendships with women.

NK:  I guess Phyllis Hirsch has been one of my best friends.  I don’t think I have any really close friends anymore.  Isn’t that funny?  My cousin, Zelma, and my cousin, Ruth, were very good friends besides being cousins.  I used to follow Zelma around like a puppy dog’s tail.  I’ll probably think of a lot.  Isn’t that funny?

EE:  Do any of your friends date from Windsor Mills?

NK:  Windsor Mills?

EE:  Windsor Hills?

NK:  Not real friends.  I mean, somebody came to see me not so long ago, who’s really my sister’s contemporary, Gloria Sagner Harris.  I don’t know if you know her or not.  She came to see me not so long ago.  And who else in Windsor Hills?

EE:  That’s okay.  Did you go to summer camp?  What did you do in the summer?

NK:  I went to camp Louise; I wouldn’t go to a sleep-away camp.  Well, that was a sleep-away camp but it was nearby. 

 

[end of side 1, tape 2]

 

EE:  This is Elaine Eff.  I’m in the home of Naomi Kellman at 8911 Reisterstown Road in Springhouse, and we are talking about her life in Baltimore and—for the Jewish Women’s Archives “Weaving Women’s Words.”  This is the second tape on July 9, 2001.  Naomi, we were just starting to talk about your summers at Camp Louise.  What don’t you tell me what Camp Louise was?  Tell me about Camp Louise.

NK:  Camp Louise was really a camp for under-privileged children, although a number of us—it was founded by Aaron and Lillie Strauss for deprived kids.  They funded their stay there but a number of kids from middle and upper middle class families also went, and you never knew who came from what family.  And it was really a wonderful camp.  It may not have had all—I hate to use the word amenities, because amenities doesn’t quite mean this—but it had all the things that a good camp—rustic camp should have.  Maybe we weren’t as rustic as the more expensive camps, but anyway, I liked it.  And I went there for several years.

EE:  Do you remember where it was?

NK:  It was near Pen Mar.  In fact, I think it was in walking distance of Pen Mar.  I’m trying to think of the name and I don’t remember the name.  It was in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

EE:  It was in Maryland.

NK:  In Maryland.  The Buena Vista?  It wasn’t in Buena Vista; it was near Buena Vista. 

EE:  Well, what—how did—

NK:  And a lot of well-to-do kids went there.

EE:  Do you remember how you got there?

NK:  It seems to me there was a little train or my father would drive me up.  It was just about an hour away—not very far.  I was scared to death to go away to camp, to a New England camp.

EE:  Oh, it was an Associated—it was operated by the Associated.

NK:  No.

EE:  It was not?

NK:  Uh-uh.  It was privately endowed by Aaron Strauss and I think he—they called him “Uncle Airy” and “Aunt Lil.”  And he also found Camp Airy, which—for the boys.  And—which was some distance away.  And the two camps would—the girls would go visit the boys, I think, on Saturday night or vice versa.

EE:  Do you remember anything special that you did there?  Any activities?

NK:  Well, I went—Yeah, I went horseback riding and I played tennis—a lot of tennis.

EE:  Do you remember swimming at all?

NK:  Well, I went—did some swimming, and a swimmer I never was. 

EE:  I’m trying to remember if they had any Jewish content to the summer activities.  Do you remember any?

NK:  Not really.  I was just trying—if they had any on Friday nights.

EE:  Did your sisters go also?

NK:  No, I don’t think so.  I don’t think my sisters went.  They—

EE:  There was a lot—big age difference between you and your sisters.

NK:  Yes, nine and a half years’ difference between me and the sister next to me.

EE:  Did that—how did that affect your relationship with them growing up?

NK:  Well, but I was—we weren’t friends until they grew up, because at nine and a half—I was nine and a half when Mimmy was born.  They were friends.  They went to school together and—but now we’re friends. And I’m very close to the sister who’s in the nursing home.  She really counts on me for an awful lot.  She’s—her life is not a very happy one.  And Mimmy and I are quite close and Millie and I are close.  And Mimmy—Mimmy’s nephew—Mimmy’s son, my nephew really—all my nieces and nephews are great but I’m particularly close to him.  He’s like a son.  He’s really one darling boy.  Boy—in his 50s.

EE:  Yeah.  You’re lucky that you were so close to her children.

NK:  Yeah.

EE:  It’s nice to have that.

NK:  It is a nice feeling.  I mean, and I know he likes me.  I think all the kids like me.

EE:  Was it considered unusual not to marry in your age—in your day?

NK:  I don’t think it was a—I don’t think it was unusual.  I think people were getting more emancipated.  I mean, it was more desirable to get married.  I mean, I always wished I—I’ve never sat down and cried about it but I think it would have been nice.  Also, it could have been terrible.  So, I mean, it’s not like there were no men. 

EE:  But you were really a career woman too.

NK:  Yeah.  But I guess I could have given that up easily.

EE:  Did you—well, did you consider that unusual?  I mean, was that considered unusual to be—you know, to be a working woman?

NK:  I don’t think—no, because I think working women were coming into their own at that point.  There were people who had far better jobs than I did.  Better—I mean, when I say that they were probably better paying jobs, more important jobs.  But I—see, I had the job I wanted and I think that’s the best kind of job to have.  I’m doing what I wanted to do. 

EE:  Well, in a sense you were doing what you wanted to do where—

EE:  —you wanted to do it also.

NK:  Yeah.

EE:  Did you at all think that was serendipity getting the job that you spent most of your career at the Associated?

NK:  I guess.  I’d like to know where my samples are. 

EE:  Oh, when you find them—

NK:  They’re in a scrapbook like that.  Hmm.

EE:  Let’s talk a little about—I guess about maybe the changes that you saw in concerning the Women’s Movement, because you really sort of worked right through it.

NK:  I worked right through it but I don’t—I don’t think I was ever very conscious of it, that—or even that interested in it.  I was always—I mean, I’m not a pioneer; I’m not an activist.  And so I—the Women’s Movement as such with its political aspects—I mean, it never meant anything to me.  I mean, I think it’s great we got the vote, but let somebody else work on it.

EE:  Right.  You made—you really made your mark in other ways.

NK:  I don’t know if I made my mark but at least I did what I wanted to do and I think that’s all anybody can ask out of life; I really do.  I think you’ve got to make peace with yourself if you don’t get what you want to begin with.  As I said, marriage would have been ideal; it could have been terrible.  My life has been a good one.  I’ve never known—I’ve never had riches.  I’ve always been comfortably off.  I mean, I think this is nice living—maybe you would hate living in one room.  I don’t mind it, if somebody’s going to take care of the one room.  [chuckles]

EE:  Well, it’s a bit—it’s a far cry from 14 rooms at Windsor Hills, isn’t it?

NK:  Right.  It is a far cry from 14 rooms.  Of course, we lived in nine, so let’s be honest about it.  And then—it’s not quite as impressive when I say that’s where I lived, and people say, “Oh,” you know, because I was always very proud of that house.  And that’s—that’s always been home, though we’ve lived other places.  But anyway, I guess I’m a contented person.  My mother said the best thing about me was that whatever I had was the best in the world, and I’m really pretty content with life.  And I guess that’s a good way to be.  I don’t envy somebody because he’s richer or married or anything. 

EE:  That’s great.  And I think that’s probably a good place to end—

NK:  Yeah.

EE:  —our conversation, you know. 

NK:  I’m content and I guess—I can say I’m happy.  The only thing that concerns me is, like, knowing my sister is not happy.  But by the same token, she wouldn’t be happy anyplace.  And I said something to our doctor about it.  He said, “But you know she was unhappy 30 years ago.”  So—

EE:  Yeah.  Would you have any messages for people who, you know, are—I guess of your generation and for the generations coming behind you?

NK:  Don’t wish for what you can’t have.  Just say, “This is it,” and—I mean, I don’t know that I did that consciously but—I don’t think I did.  And I think you’ve got to have it in you.

EE:  Well, I can tell you’re a happy person.  This room really is bright and cheerful and you’re surrounded by the people you love.

NK:  Well, I have two little great nieces over there.  Where are the babies’ pictures?  They’re so cute, the twins.

EE:  We’ll find them.  Well, I’m going to say thank you—

NK:  Thank you.

EE:  —unless there’s something that we forgot to talk about.

NK:  I don’t think so.

EE:  [several words unclear]

NK:  Good Lord!  After two hours!  My life wasn’t that momentous.

EE:  Well, I think this was great and I know a lot of people think your life has been pretty momentous.  So let me say thank you.

NK:  Well, thank you.

EE:  And I’m—

NK:  Now, what’s going to happen to this life of mine.  I mean, what are you going…

[END OF INTERVIEW]