We continue Agnieszka Witkowska-Krych's "Taste of Ghetto Life" series, in which the author explores, among other things, the issues of feeding the ghetto's inhabitants, the activities of ad hoc feeding stations for starving residents, and the Transferstelle, a kitchen feeding children and infants.
The author tells the story of the courthouses, which served as a transit point for food smugglers, Janusz Korczak's efforts to obtain aid for the Main House of Refuge, the so-called house committees, and the people and institutions that had to face the nearly impossible task of feeding the poor and saving them from starvation. We publish columns on our website weekly. We invite you to read this challenging book, based on a diverse and solid source base.
Warsaw-born Bogdan (Dawid) Wojdowski, who as a teenager found himself in the Warsaw Ghetto, in his moving novel "Bread for the Dead," based on facts and his own experiences, paints a picture of hunger for the inhabitants of the closed district: "The first days of hunger are the worst, then it becomes bearable. First comes weariness, arms and legs feel heavy, every word grows into a painful clamor in the ears. The colors do not please the eyes, and the light hurts them. (...) One is constantly thirsty, cracked lips dry up. The jaw clenches of its own accord, and a pain erupts behind the ears at the sight of a tin spoon abandoned on the table. Then thoughts of food begin, terrible, exhausting fantasies. The stomach works like a siphon. The thought of a piece of turnip is enough for him, and his teeth crunch through the fibrous pulp, and the juice, faintly reminiscent of black turnip, milder in taste and sweetish, flows down his throat and moistens the swollen tongue, leaving a tart residue in the mouth. (...) The thought breaks away from the turnip and soars high. "When will they bring that bread?" (1971, pp. 24-25).
Bread – the object of desire for tens, hundreds of thousands of people crammed into a small area carved out of the so-called Northern District. The vast majority of whom died of hunger, disease, and exhaustion during the deportation operations and in the Treblinka extermination camp. Food: in the ghetto, alongside those craving bread and dreaming of turnips, there were also those who dined at the "L'Ourse" café, and the "Gazeta Żydowska" of August 1, 1941, reported that the kitchen at 11 Leszno Street "will distribute candy for adults and an additional 50 grams for children." This, however, does not change the overall picture of a place where obtaining food was a matter of paramount importance – a condition for, though not a guarantee of, survival.
Prof. Konrad Zieliński, head of the research department of the Warsaw Ghetto Museum
Hotel Britania – Nowolipie 18
In the Warsaw Ghetto, besides food stations, community kitchens, and mid-range restaurants, there were also establishments of a slightly different nature – more expensive, more elegant, meeting places for the "new financial elite" of the closed district. It was written about these individuals: " There are also among them […] people whose sources of income no one knows anything about. And they live well, prosperously, on pre-war terms " (Ringelblum Archive. The Warsaw Ghetto, vol. 5, Warsaw 2011, p. 71). This new social class was recruited primarily from people involved in smuggling goods into and out of the ghetto, police officers of the Jewish Order Service, but also officers of the Office for Combating Usury and Profiteering. These individuals met in ghetto establishments to discuss their business dealings. Stanisław Różycki, among others, wrote about this: " There are those who were cab drivers and porters before the war. […] Others – from the same social class – young – already have audacity, audacity, and even a sense of humor. […] These are seen above all in Arizona. It's a small bar-cafe in the basement of the Britania Hotel, where the wealthiest residents of the ghetto live, having lost their former apartment. The rooms are expensive, because they are expensive, but there's also light, […] bed linen, breakfast, lunch, dinner on site. And there are pleasures and entertainment on site; you don't have to go out into the dirty street to spend the day decently and delightfully, far from the nightmare of war and the ghetto. Because there's dancing, a café, a restaurant, cards, dances, alcohol, girls, everything in abundance, everything your heart desires, to live not to die, music, singing, humor, wit add color to the gray boredom of smuggling life " (Ibidem).
The Britania Hotel, mentioned here, was a pre-war investment. It didn't enjoy the prestige of the Bristol, Polonia, or Europejski, but it was considered relatively decent. It's no wonder, then, that those who had to move to the ghetto and couldn't find suitable accommodations chose to live there, provided they had the means. The hotel itself advertised in the licensed "Gazeta Żydowska," noting that it offered long-term rentals, with amenities such as central heating. (Gazeta Żydowska 1941, no. 3, p. 10).
Stanisław Różycki described the atmosphere at 18 Nowolipie Street with considerable reserve. The guests who frequented it were, in his view, dressed in exquisite attire, perfumed, and fresh. The drinks served at the tables were primarily alcoholic beverages, such as "liqueurs, wines, cocktails" (Ibidem), while the food included "oranges, lemons, apples, […] cakes, orangeade, mayonnaise, fish, chicken, sardines" (Ibidem). A special guest, whom Różycki calls " the king of the middlemen ," reportedly ordered dishes that the residents of the surrounding streets could only dream of: "goose breast with matzo, honey, onion with liver, plum brandy" (Ibidem). Różycki's observations regarding the standard of this establishment, however, were bleak: " in essence, it's a den, a nest of the worst outcasts, people without scruples and shame, mostly uneducated simpletons, trying to make the gestures of great lords. […] It doesn't matter that there are orgies, a brothel, a card room, gambling, dancing, food, drinking. It doesn't matter that money is thrown around as easily as it is squeezed from the pockets of the poor " (Ibidem, p. 72). This is an everyday scene, although – as Różycki assumed – it could have differed from what happened in the establishment during curfew, when no one could officially enter Britania. "Music all night long, […] waitresses and other women too. And there's no shortage of vodka, wine, pastries, meats, mayonnaise, fruit" (Ibidem). Compared to the crowded, gray streets of the ghetto, this place must have made a huge impression. This was confirmed by an unnamed Rode, who visited Britania shortly after leaving one of the refugee shelters. Years later, he recalled the establishment on Nowolipie Street: " dancer girls in evening gowns, servants, an orchestra, tables, alcoholic suppers, wafting smoke from cigarettes and cigars. […] The orchestra was playing, dancing, laughter, fun... " (ŻIH Archives, file no. 302/129), i.e., everything that was almost unattainable for the average, seriously impoverished ghetto resident.
Agnieszka Witkowska-Krych – cultural anthropologist, Hebraist, sociologist, in recent years a curator at the Museum of Warsaw, researcher of the life and legacy of Janusz Korczak, collaborator of the Forum for Dialogue Foundation and the Center for Yiddish Culture, author of texts on "last matters" – the last journey of Korczak and his charges, the last performance of the pupils of the Jewish Orphanage and the last notes in Korczak's Diary.
Photo: Nowolipie, the intersection of Karmelicka and Mylna streets during World War II. From the left: the ruins of the tenement house at Nowolipie 24 on the corner of Karmelicka 11, the tenement house at Karmelicka 12 on the corner of Nowolipie, the gable wall of the tenement house at Nowolipie 20, further down the street the tenement houses at Nowolipie 14a, Nowolipie 14, and Nowolipie 12. Straight ahead is the side elevation of the tenement house at Nowolipie 17 and the tenement house on Mylna Street (land registry no. 7346). (Warsaw Foundation 1939, source: photo scan sent by Tomasz Lerski)
