Mystery Location

Here's my Dad, on a double date, somewhere in post-war Germany. I am pretty sure that this photo was taken in Bavaria. Usually, it's difficult to differentiate one bombed-out German city from another. But this building is distinctive. I nonethess was unable to determine the location.

Do you know where Dad and his friends were when they gathered for this photo? My first guess is Stuttgart, followed by the areas around Würzburg and Schweinfurt. If you have an idea, please leave a comment.

Germany, 1946. My Dad, cigarette in hand, is on the far right. This photo dates from the period before he met my Mom.

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Germany, 1947. Here's another view of the building.

UPDATE: Mystery resolved. I found my Dad's negatives, and he wrote the location on each image's envelope. These are photos taken near Hohenheim University, in Stuttgart.

Still Friends, in a Different Time

Stuttgart (or Schweinfurt) Germany, about 1946. My Dad—wearing the hat—and his friend, Casey, stand together again, this time as Displaced Persons. The two men studied Agriculture in Stuttgart. This photo may have been taken there or in Schweinfurt, which was the location of the Displaced Persons camp to which UNRRA assigned Dad.

Don't-Miss-the-Train Reunion

 

Stuttgart, West Germany, August 1985. I traveled to Stuttgart to participate in a conference about medieval maritime commerce. I was happy to visit the city because my Dad studied there after the war. I stayed in a suburban hotel and rode the train into the center each morning. I've never seen cleaner train stations.

The Same Steps

Hohenheim University, Stuttgart, Germany, 1946. Dad took several shots of this spot.

Study Break

Hohenheim University, Stuttgart, Germany, 1946. My Dad, on the left, and two classmates take a study break after classes.

Tucked Away

Hohenheim University, Stuttgart, Germany, 1946. Here's a touching scene from Dad's (pre-Mom) double date. It looks like it was a cloudy day, but the sun came out later.

The Life Box (Part 28)

I used to sew many of clothes. It seemed like everyone sewed in the 1970s. It was easy to find fashionable patterns, and there was a fabric store in nearly every shopping mall. Mom and I sewed the ensembles we wore during our European vacation, and I later sewed the garments I packed for my trip to Stuttgart. I think I sewed every bridesmaid gown I wore. Oh golly, I once even sewed a swimsuit.

I saved many of the sewing patterns I used. I was looking today for the pattern for my senior-prom dress, but I could not find it. It was a wraparound halter dress that I made in a silver fabric. I intended to show the pattern to Mom because I wondered if she'd now think the dress was too risqué. It didn't seem daring in 1975 or 1976. (This is not the pattern, but it is very close to it.)

I did find several other patterns from that era, so I wonder if I didn't lend the wraparound halter-dress pattern to someone. I recall I went through a "Cossack phase" during which I sewed many billowy blouses and dresses. I still have those patterns. Here's one:

I made a grey blouse out of the pattern, and I sewed a pink and grey bias-plaid, A-line skirt to match.

I even wore that outfit to a school dance:

Suburban Chicago, January 1975. Dad catches me before the party.

Saving Ourselves

Displaced Persons sought to preserve their national identity. Once the Soviets swooped into the Baltic States, Lithuanians, Latvians, and Estonians took steps to save their cultures.

The DPs published booklets describing Lithuania's history, holiday customs, and family traditions:

Stuttgart, Germany, 1948. "Lithuania, My Dear Country," a short history of Lithuania. The text appears in three languages: English, Lithuanian, and German.

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Other leaflets preserved more recent history, describing the deportations of Lithuanians to Soviet prison camps:

Seligenstadt, Germany, 1948. The cover of "Pro Memoria," a leaflet that chronicles the memories of persons whose families were deported in 1941 to the Gulag camps. The text catalogs the numbers of Lithuanians shipped to the labor prisons. The "inventory" includes the numbers of the train (cattle) cars on which the deportees traveled:

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Groups also published pamphlets detailing the history and regional variations of folkdress:

Seligenstadt, Germany, 1947. "Folkdress Costumes for Lithuanian Women," a pamphlet that describes folkdresses, offeres patterns for sewing them, and creates sketches of local versions:

An inside page of the same pamphlet, illustrating the folkdress of a region appropriate for a girl, on the left, and a woman, on the right.

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Often the DPs would conduct a "paroda," or exhibit, highlighting some aspect of their culture. Women, for example, sewed miniature Lithuanian folkdresses representing the regional variation. They dressed dolls in the folkdress costumes and put the dolls on display.

Schweinfurt, Germany, 1946. My paternal Grandmother, Tatjana, on the far left, jokes around with two other women as they set up a "paroda" of dolls in folkdress.

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Every DP camp also had a wooden shrine with a traditional Lithuanian folk cross. The crosses resembled the ones Lithuanians erect in the countryside and at cemeteries.

Schweinfurt, Germany, about 1948. The traditional cross designates this area as a camp of Lithuanian DPs.

Campus Steps

Hohenheim University, Stuttgart, Germany, 1946. My Dad's classmates gather for a lunch break.

Lunch Break

Hohenheim University, Stuttgart, Germany, 1946. My Dad (standing in the foreground, on the left) and fellow university students step away from their classwork. He's not texting.

Double Date

Here's my Dad, again on that double date for which I initially could not place the location.

Hohenheim University, Stuttgart, Germany, 1946. My Dad, on the far left, is in his early twenties here. This rendezvous* occurred two years before Dad reconnected with my Mom.

*In our family, "rendezvous" is a term used to refer to an innocent passeggiata, picnic, or other platonic activity with someone of the opposite sex.

Indoor Shopping

Stuttgart, Germany, August 1985. This place reminded me of the Galleria Vittoria Emanuele.

Speaking of that Galleria post: are you buying a lottery ticket tomorrow?

A Lost Friend

Casey was my Dad's closest friend since childhood. Dad and Casey went to high school together in Lithuania. They also attended college as fellow Displaced Persons, and they remained tight during the time the two men were in Germany.

After my Parents emigrated to the United States, Dad remained in touch with Casey for a time. Casey settled into a new life near Bogota, Columbia.

The two men saw each other only one more time after the war years. In 1955, Casey visited my Parents once my Parents had moved to Suburban Chicago. It was during that visit that Casey brought my mother the Colombian pocketbook that she carried for many years. Casey also gifted a small oil painting, depicting a typical Colombian village. You can see the framed piece here, behind the swell lamp and again here, behind my Dad's head.

My Dad and Casey lost touch after the mid-1950s, and we don't know what became of Casey.

 
Stuttgart, Germany, 1946. Casey and my Dad pose for a photo as fellow college students. My Dad had elegant hands.
 

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Suburban Chicago, Summer 1955. Casey stands near the door of my Parents' new apartment building during his last visit with my Dad.

An Influential Friend

When my Dad was a high school student, he had planned to study medicine. In his teens, he became close friends with a classmate, Casey. Casey convinced my Dad that it would be more interesting for the two of them to study agricultural sciences together.

My Dad and Casey enrolled in the agriculture program in Lithuania. When they fled to the Displaced Persons camps at the end of the war, Dad and Casey continued their studies in Germany. Dad took classes in Stuttgart.

The plan to study agricultural sciences was a wrong turn for Dad. When he emigrated to Brooklyn—and then relocated to urban Chicago—there was little demand for someone with an agriculture degree. Dad therefore retooled himself and went back to school in the States.

Casey emigrated to South America, where he put his agricultural training to use. He became the owner of a coffee-bean plantation. Casey sent photos to my Dad of himself riding horseback around his property and harvesting his crops. Late in the 1950s, Casey sent my Mom a Colombian pocketbook that she carries in this photo.

Do you have a person in your history to whom you attribute a "sea change" in your life? Or is there a moment you can identify as a turning point for you?

Kaunas, Lithuania, June 1941. Casey and my Dad take a break during classes during their first year in college.

Every generation of college kids looks great.

These students resemble models ready for an all-American, tailored fashion shoot.

Hohenheim University, Stuttgart, Germany, 1946. My Dad—the second of two coat-wearing men on the left—stands among friends on a brisk day.

On Campus, After Classes

Hohenheim University, Stuttgart, Germany, 1946. My Dad—on the far left, in the raincoat—again joins fellow DP students after classes on the campus of the bombed, post-war college.

Do you think we'll blend in if we wear lederhosen?

Hohenheim, Stuttgart, Germany, 1946. My Dad, on the left, and his friend, fellow Displaced Person Casey, go native while touring the Bavarian countryside.

Classes may have started, but it still feels like summer.

Hohenheim University, Stuttgart, Germany, 1946. My Dad—on the far left—relaxes with campus friends. This photo likely was taken on the same day as the double date snapshots.

Campus Memento

Hohenheim University, Stuttgart, Germany, 1946. My Dad captures a photo of two classmates as they pose in front of the damaged campus building.

Bridal Shop Bongos

Stuttgart, Germany, August 1985. You'll find music across the street from the shoe shop.