Her Hebrew lessons that morning seemed to drag
on forever. And her mind was everywhere except on
the work. She couldn’t conjugate her verbs, forgot
her spelling words, and mispronounced some simple
sentences. At one point, she even forgot her teacher’s name and stared at her blankly when Mrs. Rose called on her to answer a question. Finally, her teacher took her aside.
“What is wrong with you today, Anna?” Mrs. Rose
asked. “You look as if you are in another world.”
Anna explained that the great conductor Toscanini
was going to conduct the rehearsal of the orchestra
that day. “My father was so nervous this morning. I
guess some of it has rubbed off on me.”
A slow smile spread across Mrs. Rose’s face. “Ah,
now I understand. But do you think you could just
try to focus until the end of our lessons?”
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Anna nodded and sighed. “I’ll try.”
When Mrs. Rose finally dismissed the class, Anna
was the first one out the door and across the field to the rehearsal hall. She wished Eric were there with
her, but her friend had been absent from school for
the last couple of days.
She had stopped by his apartment the previous
day to find out what was wrong. Eric’s mother greeted her at the door, looking haggard. When Eric came out to talk to Anna, he looked equally tense.
“I brought this homework for you,” Anna said,
holding some papers out to Eric. “Mrs. Rose thought
you should have this so you won’t get too far behind.”
Eric took the papers. “Thanks.”
He was just about to close the door when Anna
stopped him. “Aren’t you going to tell me what’s
wrong?”
Eric hesitated. “I haven’t been feeling that well. A really bad headache.”
Was a headache, even a bad one, a reason to miss
a couple of days of school? Anna didn’t think so. “Is everything else okay?”
When Eric finally glanced up, his eyes were bleary
looking, as if he hadn’t been sleeping. Anna knew
that look. She had seen it in Renata’s eyes before her announcement that they were leaving Poland. But
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Eric wasn’t saying anything else, even when Anna
asked him a second time. They said their good-byes
and he closed the door.
Pushing those thoughts aside, she entered the re-
hearsal space and quickly found her spot to the left of the stage. She caught Papa’s eye and waved. He raised his eyebrows to let her know he’d seen her. She was
anxious for her father and for all the musicians. She knew they wanted nothing more than to impress the
great Toscanini.
Mr. Huberman was already onstage and about to
address the orchestra. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are indeed honored to be in the presence of a genius. He is not only a great musician, but a great friend to all of us who have escaped from persecution. Without further
ado, I present to you Maestro Arturo Toscanini.”
The orchestra members were on their feet,
applauding for the man who made his way up the
stairs and onto the stage. Anna craned her neck and
stared at the conductor. She wasn’t sure what she had expected to see. The words genius and greatness had conjured up images of something that was
larger than life and not quite human. But Maestro
Toscanini looked about as average as they came. He
was not a particularly tall man. He had a thin fringe of white hair that encircled the back of his head, with
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just a tuft on top. His mustache was gray and full.
His eyebrows were bushy and knitted together. If she had passed him on the street, she would not have
given him a second look.
He bowed to the musicians and shook hands with
Mr. Huberman. Then he simply said the name of the
composer of the piece the orchestra was rehearsing:
“Brahms.” With that he raised his baton and began
the rehearsal.
For the first two sections of the symphony,
Toscanini didn’t say a word. He conducted, listened, and remained silent. Anna thought things were
going exceptionally well. She relaxed into the music and closed her eyes to listen for the sections that she loved so much. She hummed along and nodded her
head in time with the music.
But with the start of the third section, Toscanini
became upset. Without warning, he began to pound
The musicians stopped in the middle of a musical
passage and stared at one another and at their
conductor, who was continuing to shout and rage. It
didn’t help that he was yelling in his native language of Italian. No one could understand a word he was
saying. Finally, Mr. Huberman climbed back on the
stage and spoke with Toscanini, who was still ranting
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in Italian. When Mr. Huberman looked back at the
orchestra, his face was grim. “He says it’s horrible,” he began.
“Terribile! ” Toscanini screamed in Italian. Anna didn’t need an interpreter to translate the word. From the way Toscanini was behaving, he must have
thought the orchestra members sounded like the
barnyard animals that Anna heard when her father’s
former students used to play. Where was the compas-
sionate man that her father had referred to? She was glued to her seat, every nerve in her body on edge. She felt sick to her stomach, like the time the German soldier had entered the train to check their papers. But this time, all her anxiety was focused on her father and the members of the orchestra. When she glanced
over at Papa, he appeared to have gone quite pale.
Toscanini was still shouting, and from where
Anna was sitting, it looked as if fire daggers were
shooting from his eyes. He appeared so wound up
Anna thought he might explode. Mr. Huberman
continued to translate. “He says you all sound as
if you are playing a Russian march, not a beautiful
Brahms symphony.”
Toscanini shouted some more.
“Now he says that you are playing as if there is
mud in your instruments. This is meant to be light,
not heavy and thick.”
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What was he talking about? To Anna’s ears, the
orchestra sounded as light as air.
Suddenly, Toscanini began to prance around the
stage, lifting himself up on his toes and dancing a silly jig of some kind. Anna had to smile in spite of herself. He looked quite ridiculous and even some of the musicians snickered and giggled.
“There,” shouted Mr. Huberman. “That’s how he
wants you to play. As if you were up on your toes and dancing.”
“Si, si, ” said Toscanini. “Danza! ”
With that, Mr. Huberman left the stage and the
rehearsal continued. Toscanini continued to inter-
rupt from time to time, shouting some instruction
that no one seemed to understand and waving his
baton in the air as if it were a sword. Anna felt on edge until the rehearsal finally ended. Mr. Huberman approached her as she sat waiting for her father to
pack up his instrument.
“And how do you think we sounded today, Miss
Hirsch?”
“Wonderful!” Anna gushed.
Mr. Huberman paused and then said, “If you were
to think of something that we might improve, what
would that be?”
Anna paused. Mr. Huberman was asking her to
critique the orchestra. Was that really okay? “I-I think
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the violins still need a bit more emotion when they
play,” she stammered. “Especially in the second
section. It’s meant to be a lullaby.” Then she stopped and looked away.
Mr. Huberman raised his eyebrows and leaned
forward. “I’m impressed with your observations,
Miss Hirsch,” he said. “And you are correct about the violins. You really are a budding musician.”
Anna blushed a deep red. Then she frowned. “But
I don’t think Maestro Toscanini likes the orchestra
very much.”
“Oh, and what makes you think that?”
Anna couldn’t believe Mr. Huberman was asking
the question. Hadn’t he heard all the yelling? “He was saying such terrible things about the music.”
“And you think that because he was shouting he
didn’t like us?”
What else could she think? It was so obvious. She
nodded.
“But you are quite wrong about that, Miss
Hirsch. The only reason he was shouting is because
he respects the orchestra so much he is willing to
let the musicians know how he really feels.”
Anna frowned. Respect? He had a funny way of
showing it.
“If he didn’t care, he would not have said a
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word. Believe me, Miss Hirsch, the maestro is quite
impressed with this orchestra.”
z
Papa didn’t say much on the walk home with Anna.
He looked completely downhearted. Anna didn’t
push him, not even to tell him what Mr. Huberman
had said about how much Toscanini respected the
musicians. She still wasn’t sure that was true. When they reached the apartment, Papa disappeared inside, muttering something about needing to practice.
Anna spotted Eric sitting on the stoop of his apart-
ment building, and she walked over to say hello.
“You should have been there for the rehearsal,
Eric. It was like nothing I’ve ever seen.” She went on to tell him about Toscanini and even demonstrated
the silly dance he had done. Finally, she collapsed
in giggles and plopped down next to Eric. “Are you
feeling any better?”
Eric didn’t respond. It was only then that Anna
noticed how distracted he appeared. He was staring
off into space and barely smiling, not even at her
description of the rehearsal or the dance. And the
skin around his eyes was rubbed raw, as if he had
been crying. “Eric, what’s wrong?” He just shrugged
his shoulders in reply and looked away again. “Please
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tell me. You’re my friend and I’m worried about you.”
Anna pushed him.
Finally, Eric looked back at her. “My mother still
isn’t happy about being here—in Palestine, I mean.
She finds it so hard. And she’s having so much trouble learning this new language.”
Anna nodded. “We’re all having trouble with that!
You should hear my grandmother. She can barely put
two Hebrew words together.”
“I know,” Eric agreed. “But I think it’s more than
that. She’s just so sad all the time. I think she just really misses Poland,” he added.
At that, Anna paused. She hadn’t thought much
about Poland in the last few weeks, not since the day she had discovered her clarinet was missing. In the
intervening time, the country of her birth had almost vanished from her mind. Were there things that she
missed about her former home? Yes, she still missed
her friends, her lovely house, and the familiar sound of her language being spoken on the streets. But she didn’t miss the angry people who were targeting
Jewish citizens. She didn’t miss the sight of signs on stores warning that Jews were not welcome. She didn’t miss the thugs who threatened old men, even when
they were minding their own business and not both-
ering anyone. She had seen with her own eyes how
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conditions in Poland were getting worse and worse,
and Papa had told her that Jewish citizens in other
countries were also suffering. She didn’t miss any
of that.
Since their arrival in Palestine, Anna had only
received one letter from Stefan, even though she had written him several times. In it, Stefan had written that all the Jewish families in Krakow were more
afraid than ever. He was still trying to talk his father into finding a way to get out, but so far, they were stuck. That letter had arrived a month ago. Since
then, there had been nothing from Stefan—as if he
had disappeared.
“My father says we should be grateful that Mr.
Huberman was able to get us out of there,” Anna
reminded Eric. “I know it’s hard to get used to
living in a new place, but I think it’s even worse back in Poland.”
“You’re right,” Eric replied. “I just wish that my
mother saw it the way your father does.” Then he
exhaled, as if wanting to push away the thoughts.
“You know what? I’ve been promising to take you
exploring ever since we arrived here. How about
tomorrow, after school?”
What Anna really wanted was to hear the orchestra
rehearse on its second day with Toscanini. But Eric’s
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eyes had suddenly brightened when he talked about
going on an adventure. A moment ago, he had looked
so discouraged. There would be more rehearsals to
come, she reasoned. This sounded like it could be fun.
“Sure,” she replied. “Let’s do it.”
Chapter
29
Eric and Anna headed out the door of the schoolroom
as soon as Mrs. Rose dismissed them.
“Where are we going?” Anna asked, following Eric
down the hill toward the main road.
“We’re going to the beach.”
At that, she stopped short. The beach! She had wanted to go there ever since she spied the sea from their apartment balcony on the first day. And she
certainly wanted an adventure. But maybe this was
too much. Baba knew that Anna was going to be
with Eric for the afternoon. She had even given her
some money to buy a snack. But she assumed they
would stay close to the apartment building. Neither
she, nor Anna’s father, would have approved of a trip to the beach—at least not without adult supervision.
Just a week earlier, Anna had learned that there had 205
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been an attack on a convoy of trucks in the northern part of Palestine. The Jewish driver and several others had been killed. Jewish groups had retaliated with
an attack on Arab workers and also killed several
people. The British military had imposed a mandatory curfew. Everyone had
to be in their homes by dusk.
Perhaps this was not a good time to be out wandering on the streets.
“Wait, Eric.” He was already steps ahead and
turned at the sound of her voice. “I’m not sure we
should do this.”
“You said you wanted some fun.”
“I know,” she replied. “But I don’t think my father
would want us to go to the beach alone.”
Eric retraced his steps to stand next to Anna. “I
know what I’m doing. We’ll walk down to the beach,
put our feet in the sea, and then come back home.
Nothing bad is going to happen.”
It was an appealing offer. And the urge to go with
Eric was beginning to take hold. She remembered
that when her family had vacationed at the Baltic
Sea, the water was so cold that when she dipped her
foot in, her leg had cramped all the way up. Papa had told her that the sea in Tel Aviv was much warmer,
even though the weather had turned cool. Anna was
wearing a jacket and a knitted cap pulled down on
her forehead.
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207
“Do you even know how to get there?” she asked
weakly.
Eric grinned. “Just follow me.” And with that, he
began walking again. Anna hesitated for a second
and then took off after him as he began to wind
his way down streets, some so narrow that only
pedestrians could pass. She felt turned around in
circles and struggled to keep up with her friend. The last thing she wanted was to lose him in the crowd
and be left on her own.
“I know what direction the sea is in,” Eric called
over his shoulder, as if he knew she doubted him. “I can smell it! We’ll just keep heading that way.”
Anna followed. Eric had always proved he was
a wizard at finding his way around, and she hoped
that he would do the same now. Every now and then,
armored tanks with British soldiers on board rolled
by on the streets of Tel Aviv. Anna shuddered at the sight but had no time to think too much about what
it meant. Eric was still plowing ahead and Anna tried to stay close to his heels. Despite the cool weather, she could feel her face start to grow hot and the sweat begin to gather across her neck and back. And just
as she was about to shout out to Eric to stop, they
rounded a curve and there it was.
The Mediterranean Sea lay ahead of them, stretch-